Free 7 Souls by Barnabas Miller, Jordan Orlando

on the absent list. Do you realize what kind of bloody hell is going to descend upon you?”
    “Never mind that,” Mary said impatiently. She was peering at Scott’s plump, pleasant face, looking for some sign of the blind panic she’d seen there mere hours before. “What happened this morning? What were you—what were you warning me about?”
    (Look out, you’re in danger!)
    “What?” Scott’s blue eyes looked baffled. “What are you talking about? ‘Warning’ you? The only thing I’d warn you about is Mr. Shama, because you’ll have to—”
    “Scott!” Mary had grabbed both his shoulders. They were the only people in the corridor now—everyone else had vanished into classrooms and all the doors had shut. “Scott, this morning, in front of the school you, like, ran toward me , screaming that I was in danger.”
    Scott was shaking his head. He looked completely baffled. “Mary, what are you talking about? Are you, like, zonked out on drugs or something?”
    “They beat the shit out of you!” Mary yelled. Scott flinched—Mary actually saw a droplet of her own spit land on his gold-framed glasses. She realized she was shaking him. “Pete Schocken and Silly Billy and the rest of the damn team—they surrounded you and took you down!”
    “Mary, what’s wrong? What’s wrong with you?”
    She let go of his arms. I’m raving , she realized fearfully. I’m raving like one of those homeless people that everyone pretends they can’t see .
    What’s happening to me?
    “Scott,” she asked hopelessly, “don’t you remember this morning? Don’t you remember running down the street and screaming at me?”
    “This is the first time I’ve seen you all day.” Scott was looking past her, around her, trying to figure out if anyone else was lurking nearby—exhibiting the healthy paranoia of the geek who never knows when he’s going to get persecuted. “Listen, is this some kind of senior prank or something? Because I don’t think it’s very funny.”
    He doesn’t remember , Mary thought, amazed. She was sure of it—she could see it in his eyes. He really doesn’t remember .
    There was another possibility, one she didn’t want to consider.
    Or it didn’t happen .
    Patrick hadn’t noticed or reacted, she remembered. He’d guided her down the street like nothing unusual was happening at all.
    “Listen, I’ve got AP calculus,” Scott said nervously, checking his antique wristwatch. “I’m sorry, but the big joke’s going to have to wait.”
    I’m losing it , Mary thought. I’m going crazy; I’m remembering stuff that didn’t happen .
    She let go of Scott’s shoulders and let him pull away, not watching as he sprinted down the hallway.
    A black house with no lights, standing alone beneath a dark sky .
    “Something’s wrong with me,” Mary said out loud. She was alone now; her voice echoed strangely in her ears. Something’s wrong with my brain. I have to see the nurse . She started moving, walking toward the stairwell, trying to ignore the cold fear that was spreading through her like winter frost.
    B Y THREE IN THE afternoon Mary was outside the school, leaning on the black wrought-iron bars of the Chadwick gates, hands in pockets, book bag on the ground between her feet. She was staring at the lines in the sidewalk, which were actually kind of peaceful and soothing to look at. The school day was ending soon and she could hear the clashing of the school’s doors behind her as kids came out, just a few this early, the beginning of the tide that would engulf the sidewalk with a deafening clamor of voices and ringing cell phones and pounding feet; the repeat of the scene that had started the day.
    Why am I still here?
    Mary wasn’t sure. There was no reason not to leave and go home. Nobody was talking to her. Nobody cared about her. She stared at the sidewalk and saw passing shoes and trouser cuffs and the occasional skateboard or Razor scooter, but she refused to look up. I won’t