Chapitre 53: Chapter 53: Catcher in the Riley
"Ugh, why the hell are we here so damn early?" she growls, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
I scratch the back of my neck sheepishly. "Sorry, I accidentally set my alarm too early. My bad."
Erica's blue eyes narrow at me, but there's a softness there that takes the edge off her scowl. "You're lucky you're cute, Jason."
My heart does a little flip at her words. "You, uh, need to use the bathroom?" I ask, noticing her fidgeting.
She sighs heavily, her blonde hair swishing as she nods. "Yeah, and it's gonna be a real shitshow." She sighs.
I can't help but snicker at her bluntness.
"Just this once," she continues, jabbing a finger at my chest, "I'm letting you wait out here. But I swear to god, Jason, if you fucking move an inch, I'll make you regret it."
There's that delicious mix of threat and affection that I've come to crave from her. I give her my best innocent smile. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Erica disappears into the bathroom with a final warning glare, and I stand there, exhaling slowly. The hallway feels even emptier now, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead.
Suddenly, warm hands clap over my eyes from behind, plunging me into darkness. A lilting voice purrs, "Guess who, baby?"
My heart leaps into my throat. I grab at the wrists, but it's like trying to bend steel. Whoever this is, she's freakishly strong.
"Who the fuck is this?" I demand, a note of panic creeping into my voice.
'I don't recognize this voice at all. It's not Lyra is it?'
The hands drop away as arms encircle me from behind, pulling me into a tight embrace. "Babe, calm down! It's just me, Riley," the voice giggles.
I spin around, heart pounding, to find myself face-to-face with a girl I vaguely recognize. Her short black hair frames a tan, athletic face, and hazel eyes blink at me in confusion. It takes a moment, but I place her. I've seen her with Skye a few times in the cafeteria.
"What the fuck?" I sputter, backing away until I hit the lockers. "I've literally never met you. Get away from me!"
Riley's brow furrows, worry creasing her features. She reaches out, placing a warm hand on my cheek. "Baby, what's gotten into you? Did you hit your head or something?"
I slap her hand away, anger and confusion swirling in my gut. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. I'm not your 'baby,' and I've never even spoken to you before!"
My mind reels. Nothing she's saying makes any sense. Out of a newly trained habit, I reach for the reassuring weight of the gun tucked into my waistband, only to remember with a jolt that Erica wouldn't let me bring it with me anymore. Panic claws at my throat as I realize how vulnerable I am.
Riley recoils as if I've struck her, hurt flashing across her face. "Last week, I ate over at your family's house. You cooked carbonara. Brooke and I talked about how funny it is that you like the Gilmore Girls…"
'Is that some sort of asian dish?' I get confused, i don't know how to cook.
"I have never heard of Carbonara. What the fuck even is that?" I cut her off, trying to solve this before something awful happened to me. "Look," I say, trying to keep my voice steady, "I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I want no part of it. Just leave me alone, okay?"
Riley's eyes fill with tears, her bottom lip trembling. "Jason, please. You're scaring me. What's happened to you?"
The genuine anguish in her voice throws me. Could she actually believe what she's saying? But how is that possible? I rake a hand through my hair, feeling like I'm losing my grip on reality.
I freeze, my mind latching onto a detail that suddenly seems glaringly out of place. "Wait... did you say Gilmore Girls?"
Riley nods, her brow furrowing deeper. "Yeah, you know, that show you're always quoting? With the fast-talking mom and daughter?"
My head spins. Gilmore Girls? That doesn't exist here. In this world, it's the Gilmore Guys. The realization hits me like a truck. This girl isn't crazy, she's from somewhere else entirely.
'Holy shit!' I throw my desk at the wall within the study of my Mind Palace.
"Holy shit!" I breathe heavily, mirroring my thoughts out loud. My eyes widen with fear. "When... when do you think we started dating?"
Riley tilts her head, looking increasingly concerned. "Um, sometime in September? Jason, what's going on? You're acting really strange."
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "Okay, this is going to sound absolutely insane, but you've been transported to a new world."
"What?" she asks?
"I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out. The show you mentioned doesn't exist here. And I've never met you before today. Something's seriously wrong."
Riley's face pales, her eyes darting around the hallway as if seeing it for the first time. "But... that's impossible. How could I...?"
"Look," I say, trying to keep my voice calm, "there's someone who might be able to help explain this better than me. His name is Louis Hill. You need to find him. He's like us."
"Us? You are too?" She nods slowly, looking lost and bewildered. "Okay... okay, I'll try to find him. But Jason, what about us? In my world, we're..."
I wince, hating to crush her hope but knowing I have to be honest. "In this world, I'm engaged to Erica Knight."
Riley's face drains of color, her tan complexion turning ashen. Her eyes widen with a mix of disbelief and terror.
"Erica Knight?" she whispers, her voice trembling. "The drug dealer? Doesn't she... doesn't she sell fentanyl?"
I shake my head, furrowing my brow. "No, that's just a rumor."
But even as the words leave my mouth, a flicker of doubt creeps in. My mind races, memories shuffling like a deck of cards. 'Wait, was that true in the other world, or...?'
"Actually," I say slowly, confusion evident in my voice, "maybe our original Erica did sell fent? I'm not... I'm not entirely sure anymore."
I take a moment, lost in thought, trying to untangle the threads of reality that seem to be fraying at the edges. The fluorescent lights overhead buzz ominously, casting strange shadows across Riley's frightened face.
Suddenly, I snap back to the present, remembering the imminent danger. "Look, Riley, you need to get out of here. Now."
My eyes dart anxiously to the bathroom door, knowing Erica could emerge at any second. "If Erica sees you being touchy with me, she might actually kill you."
Riley's eyes grow impossibly wider, terror etched into every line of her face. She takes a stumbling step backward, her athletic frame seeming to shrink in on itself.
Riley nods, her eyes still wide with fear. "Louis Hill, okay," she mutters, her voice barely above a whisper. She takes another step back, her gaze darting between me and the bathroom door. The fluorescent lights flicker ominously, casting strange shadows across her face.
"Jason," she says hesitantly, wringing her hands. "Can I... can I talk to you again later? Maybe after school? I just... I don't understand any of this, and I'm scared."
The desperation in her voice tugs at something deep inside me, but I push it aside. I can hear the faint sound of moaning coming from the bathroom, and panic surges through me. My heart pounds so loudly that I'm sure Riley can hear it.
"Just go fucking find Louis before you get us both in trouble," I hiss angrily, my words sharp and biting. I glance nervously at the bathroom door, praying Erica is taking a thicc shit. "I'm serious, Riley. You have no idea what Erica's capable of."
'I assume, She really almost killed that weird big girl the other day. She hasn't killed yet though.'
Riley's eyes widen, She takes a shaky step back, her athletic frame seeming to shrink under the weight of this bizarre reality.
"You're... you're really not fucking with me, right? This isn't some insane gaslighty way to break up with me?" she whispers, her voice trembling like a leaf in a storm.
My eyes narrow, and I lean in close, my voice low and intense. "I swear on my mom and Brooke, I'm not." The words hang heavy in the air between us, charged with an almost electric intensity.
Riley's mouth opens, but before she can respond, a familiar figure strides purposefully toward us. Justine's fiery red hair cascades down her back like a waterfall of flame, her green eyes sharp and alert as they zero in on Riley. She positions herself slightly in front of me, her stance protective and assertive.
"Is there a problem here?" Justine asks, her voice carrying a hint of steel beneath its casual tone. Her gaze flicks between Riley and me, assessing the situation with the precision of a lioness eyeing potential threats.
Riley blinks rapidly, her brow furrowing in confusion as she stares at Justine. "Justin?" she mutters, sounding utterly baffled. Her eyes travel up and down Justine's curvaceous athletic build, lingering on her face as if trying to reconcile it with someone else entirely.
"No, no," Riley says hurriedly, shaking her head as if to clear it. "There's no problem. I was just leaving." Her voice cracks slightly on the last word, betraying the turmoil roiling beneath her composed exterior.
Justine's eyebrow arches skeptically, her gaze never leaving Riley as the girl backs away. The click of Riley's sneakers on the linoleum floor echoes unnaturally loud in the deserted corridor, each step punctuated by the faint buzz of the flickering lights.
As Riley's footsteps fade away, Justine turns to me, her emerald eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Okay, spill it, Jason. What was that all about? Why was she being so weird?"
I sigh, running a hand through my hair as I frantically search for a plausible lie. I can almost see the gears turning in Justine's head, her analytical mind trying to piece together the puzzle before her.
"It's nothing major," I say, forcing a casual shrug. "She, uh, wanted Brooke's number. Said she has a crush on her or something."
The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but I maintain eye contact with Justine, willing her to believe me. 'This is something I'm not sure I could explain to Justine.'
Justine's eyebrow quirks up, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "Brooke, huh? Well, can't blame her for having good taste." She chuckles, the sound echoing off the empty lockers. "Though I have to say, Michelle Obama is still number one in my book."
I laugh, relief washing over me as Justine seems to buy my hastily concocted story. The tension in my shoulders eases slightly, and I lean back against the cool metal of the lockers, feeling the ridges press into my spine.
Justine's gaze suddenly sharpens, her head tilting to the side as she notices something. "Wait a minute," she says, her voice lilting with amusement. "Why aren't you in the bathroom with Erica like usual? Did she finally decide to cut the umbilical cord?"
I can't help but grin, a warmth spreading through my chest at the thought of Erica. "It seems my beautiful warden is easing up on the restrictions," I say, my voice soft and affectionate. "It's only been two and a half months, Justine. Baby steps, you know?"
Justine rolls her eyes dramatically, but there's a fondness in her expression. "Oh wow, Good for Erica. That's pretty big for her." She speaks playfully and then, in a faux reporter tone, speaks again. "Breaking news: Local delinquent allows boyfriend bathroom independence!"
I narrow my eyes slightly, feeling a flicker of annoyance. "Don't make fun of Erica," I mutter, my tone more defensive than I intended.
Justine laughs, the sound echoing off the lockers like wind chimes in a storm. "That's right, you're probably just as crazy as Erica is," she says, her green eyes twinkling with mischief. "You know, I've never seen a man so singularly obsessed with a girl as you are with Erica. It's like she's the sun, and you're a sunflower, always turning to face her."
I sigh, my gaze drifting back to the bathroom door. I try to will it open with my mind, imagining Erica's blonde hair swishing as she emerges. The fluorescent lights above us flicker, casting strange, elongated shadows across the linoleum floor. For a moment, it feels like we're suspended in time, trapped in this liminal space between night and day.
"People don't know what it is I have," I say softly, almost to myself. My fingers trace abstract patterns on the cool metal of the lockers, following the ridges and valleys of dents left by countless students before us. "With Erica, it's like... it's like every day is the life I feel like I Dreamt about for years, you know?"
Justine looks at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and pity. She runs a hand through her auburn hair and sighs deeply, the kind of sigh that makes you think she's carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.
"Jason, I can't say I know what that's like," she admits, frowning. Her voice is tinged with reluctance as if admitting this takes something out of her. "But it sounds... intense." She looks at her phone. "Ahh, Shit, Jay, I gotta get to my locker. I'll see you in class." She nods goodbye and walks away.
*****
Time seems to slow to a crawl as I wait for Erica. Minutes tick by, marked only by the occasional buzz of a failing light or the distant echo of a slamming door. I scroll mindlessly through my phone, but my eyes keep darting back to the bathroom door.
I check my watch. Thirty minutes have passed. The second bell rang five minutes ago, signaling the start of the first period. My stomach churns with worry. What's taking Erica so long?
Just as I'm about to go check on her, the bathroom door swings open. Erica emerges, her face pale and hair disheveled. She grabs my arm with trembling fingers, her grip so tight it almost hurts.
"Jesus, Erica, what happened?" I ask, taking in her appearance. She's drenched in sweat, her shirt clinging to her body. Her piercing blue eyes, usually so confident and challenging, are wide with what can only be described as horror.
"It was bad, Jason," she whispers, her voice hoarse. "Really fucking bad."
I blink, trying to process her words. "What do you mean? Are you okay?"
Erica shakes her head, a shudder running through her body. "It... It got on the walls."
My mind reels, trying to make sense of her cryptic statement. "The walls? How?"
She leans in close, her breath hot against my ear. "The angle was weird," she hisses, her voice strained. "I was straining so hard, and then... fuck, Jason, it was like a goddamn Jackson Pollock painting in there."
I pull back, searching her face. There's genuine distress in her eyes, mixed with embarrassment.
I nod at her, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Come on, let's get out of here," I say softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
As we pull out of the parking lot, the tires crunching over loose gravel, I turn to her. "Hey, you feeling sick or something?" I ask, concern lacing my voice.
Erica shakes her head, her blonde hair catching the sunlight streaming through the windshield. "Nah, I was just majorly stuffed up. Fucking hell, it was like trying to pass a brick."
"Nice," I say, rolling my eyes while I smile at her.
As we drive off i feel anxiety over take me. 'I'm going to have to tell her everything. I can't keep this from her even if I wanted too. She'd clock me lying.'
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone