Free Ephemeral (The Countenance) by Addison Moore Page A

devilish grin. “I gotta go. I have a quick errand to run before I start sloshing oatmeal.” Her eyes enlarge with anticipation. “I might just crack the case, of the not-so-grim reaper, wide open.” She bears into me with a wild grimace that suggests her sanity has long since left the building. “It’s all happening. I swear I’m going to prove to everyone that this whole place is made of pure bullshit. We’re lucid, and in a few short hours, everyone else will be, too.”
    Something tells me I may not want to pair myself socially with Casper just yet. Right about now her track record of lucidity could go either way. Personally, I’m rooting for her sanity to win out, so waiting a few short hours may prove to be treacherous.
    “Tell me what you know,” I demand. I’m not in the mood to shit around.
    “Not yet.” She snatches her purse off the bed. “Later, maybe if you’re good. Keep pissing off Kres—you’re impressing the hell out of me.”
    “She mention anything last night? You know, about her and Wes?”
    “As in the status of their relationship?” She presses her feet in a pair of shoes that remind me of the wedges my mother wore to the diner. She would let me borrow them if I was on the schedule without her. It felt like walking on marshmallows, warm and secure in her well-worn shoes. Just the memory of Mom brings back her sodden temper, her weak will to keep away from the liquor cabinet. I’m not sure what I miss more at this point, Mom or her shoes.
    “He wants a break.” She averts her eyes to the ceiling. “I’m guessing he didn’t have the balls to officially end it with her. I could see why though—it’s like giving a cat a bath, you have to do it slowly, or you might lose both your eyes in the process.”
    “The break was probably her idea.” I’d like to think Wes wants nothing more to do with her. I’d like to think it’s impossible that’d he’d even consider extending their relationship, but then again, he did let her touch him last night, indulge in a peck on the lips. 
    She shakes her head. “That’s one thing about Kresley, she’s a straight shooter. She might be a royal bitch, but she tells the truth just like a bullet. See you down there.” She shuts the door then pokes back in. “Ridley,” she shouts before slamming the door with finality.
    Kresley may know how to tell the truth, but so did that kiss Wesley seared over my lips.
     

     
    It occurs to me after she takes off that I forgot to mention the creature I encountered in the forest, more importantly the mysterious boy who saved me.
    I do a quick change and try to follow Casper out the door, but she’s already shot through the main hall and onto the brick road that unfurls in ten different directions.
    The wind picks up, tosses my hair into the sticky lip gloss I made the mistake of applying, and holds it there as punishment for committing the magenta-based beauty offense.  
    I try to wipe it off with the back of my hand, but it doesn’t budge, just creates a honeyed layer over my skin.
    The landscape looks barren, save for a few spare students, none of them being my fair-haired roommate. I try to decipher which way Casper might have went to run the errand that will supposedly launch a thousand CSI investigations.
    I spot her shock of blond hair near the forest’s edge.
    She pauses a moment before cinching the wool coat around her waist. She darts into the necrotic woods like a distance runner at the starting block. Casper believes she’s on her way to winning the race of a lifetime, two lifetimes to be exact.
    “Casper!” The wind extinguishes my voice before it leaves my lips. “No.” I jog forward. “Don’t go in there,” I whisper, breaking into a full-blown sprint.
    A vision comes to me. Twisted arms and legs, rags of clothing dangling off an entire herd of zombie-like creatures all lunging toward her small, frail body.
    “Casper!” I scream as she evaporates into the woods with