Free The Hourglass Door by Lisa Mangum Page A

eyes, feeling the rising pressure sliding through me like tentacles, sucking the energy and life from my limbs. I could still sense the ebb and flow of people moving—laughing, talking, jostling—all around me. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like I was drowning.
    A bright light flashed behind my eyes, stabbing into my brain like a hundred knives.
    Not again, I thought wearily, my hands clammy with fear.
    I’d been having these flashes every couple of hours, sometimes more frequently, for the last couple of days. And the terrifying thing was that they seemed to be flashes of the future. The first one had happened Sunday afternoon. A flash of white light and a glimpse of Mom cooking tuna casserole for dinner. I hadn’t thought much about it until dinner: tuna casserole. Weird, but not that weird.
    But then, when I woke up on Monday morning, I had another flash: Hannah wearing her blue shirt with the white lace trim. And that time I also heard the whisper of her complaint that her favorite red blouse still had a stain on the sleeve. When Hannah barged into the bathroom later that morning wearing that same blue shirt with that same complaint on her lips, I almost dropped the hair dryer in shock.
    The flashes had grown more frequent, more intense, and more accurate since then. It was like having some kind of a strange future déjà vu.
    No, please, not now, I thought as the light grew brighter, the sharp pain lacerating my mind. Frantic, I spun the dial and the lock popped open. Hallelujah! I grabbed my books at random and shoved them into my already stuffed backpack. Maybe I could get to class before—
    Natalie in a green shirt—
    “Hey, Abby. What’s up?” Natalie leaned against the bank of lockers, her green shirt the exact same shade as the one I saw in my mind’s eye.
    “Hey, Nat,” I said, grateful that my voice still worked. In my vision I heard myself ask “What time is it?” a bare second before the words left my lips in reality. A real-time flash? What was happening? My eyes hurt from the double vision.
    I saw two Natalies glance at the clock on her cell phone. “It’s almost noon. Is your watch broken?” She nodded to— a flash of gold on my wrist— the gold watch on my wrist.
    I shook it briskly, frowning. “I don’t know. It hasn’t been working right all week. It’s been running fast, and then, I don’t know, it’ll just stop for a while and then start up again.” My heart beat a double rhythm in my chest. Cold sweat covered my skin.
    “Weird. Maybe it needs a new battery,” Natalie said, waving the conversation away with her hand.
    Now she’ll say she’s late for history—
    “Listen, I’m late for history—what are you doing this weekend?”
    I shrugged. “Unless Jason has plans, nothing, I guess.” Just slowly losing my mind is all.
    “Great. Then you’re both coming to the Dungeon with us on Friday. If I don’t see you later—see you later!” The surging crowds swallowed Natalie whole.
    The double vision disappeared instantly. My constant headache roared with renewed strength. I blinked several times, my eyes dry and burning.
    “Both?” I said, and then I felt Jason’s hands slide over my shoulders. I hadn’t noticed that he’d walked up behind me.
    “You’re not planning on doing your homework during lunch, are you?” he asked with a smile. He held up a brown paper lunch bag. “I thought we had a date.”
    “What?” I looked down at the books in my hand. “Oh. No. It’s just . . . Is it lunchtime already?” I shoved my math book back into my locker.
    Jason’s forehead creased with worry. “Are you okay? You seem a little . . . distracted lately.”
    “No, really, I’m fine. Let’s have lunch.” Maybe some food would calm me down.
    I followed Jason through the crowded cafeteria to our regular table. He pulled out the chair for me and I sat down gratefully. My limbs felt heavy and uncoordinated. The hands of my watch lurched into motion, sweeping in a