Run Smooth

The sky was a dark grey and I was running. Rain pelted my skin and my shoes squelched as they padded against the ground. My clothes and hair were soaked, and every time I inhaled, the muggy air filled my nostrils. I tried not to breathe.

When I reached the costume shop I stopped. It was deserted. A memory of the store bright and bustling surfaced in my mind, but I pushed it away. I crept inside, lightly pushing the door. Its hinges creaked noisily, and I paused, making sure no one heard it. After a few moments of silence, I kept going.

I trailed my fingers along the wall, searching for the light switch. I tried to turn all my senses off and focused on my touch. The peeling wallpaper scraped against my fingers, and suddenly I felt smooth, grooved plastic. I took a deep breath and flicked the light on.

The room was empty. Moth-eaten outfits draped on hangers, and dust covered the shelves. A dark fedora caught my attention--it was the only item in the room that looked brand-new. For some reason, it looked familiar, but when I tried to remember why, my mind felt foggy. I pushed the thought away and continued over to the stairs.

They looked unsafe. The first step squeaked when I stepped on it. I laid my hands cautiously on the handrail and went to take another.

"You don't want to do that."

I jumped and spun around. Advancing towards me, his boots clipping the floor, was....a Musketeer? I stared. His eyes were shadowed by his large hat, and his dark mustache only allowed me to see his nose. "Who are you?" I asked nervously, suddenly shivering.

His voice rumbled. "I am a mask. A disguise. Nothing more."

I stepped forward. "A disguise is a cover. I asked who you were, not who you are pretending to be."

The musketeer halted, taken aback at my sudden leap of courage. He was silent. I moved closer. I could almost see his eyes now.

"I could strip you of your mask. I could find out who you really are," I declared.

His laugh surprised me. "Try. I dare you."

I reached forward without a second thought. I ripped off his hat and his long black cloak and stamped them under my feet. When I looked up again, though, in the musketeer's place was a pirate.

He laughed again. "What did I tell you?" He stroked his mustache arrogantly with his hook.

Angry, I yanked at his bandana and tore his mustache off. He screamed, and I backed away.

But instead of transforming into another costume, he stood there motionlessly. Nostrils flaring. Brown eyes burning.

It was Desmond.

*

I awoke with a start. Thank goodness, it was just a dream. I swallowed and tried to slow my beating heart. Why was he in my dreams again? What business did he have, strolling into my subconscious whenever he wished?

I scowled. He wasn't inducing these dreams. I was. I was letting the fortune teller's words get to me, I was filling my mind with foolish thoughts. I threw the covers off myself and sat up. My alarm clock shined 4:37 a.m., and I sighed. I knew Mum wouldn't approve, but I couldn't foresee myself falling asleep after that dream.

I threw on a sweatshirt and grabbed a fluffy towel from the downstairs cabinet, and then on a second thought, poured myself a small glass of milk.

Outside, the moon's reflection rippled on the waves. I walked calmly down the patio steps, out onto the sand. The breeze was cool, not cold, but I was still thankful for my hoodie. I spread my towel on the sand a few feet up from the shoreline and then stepped out further. The warm water lapped at my ankles as I stared up at the brilliant sky.

Finding Orion and Cassiopeia in the stars was effortless for me. When I stretched out on my towel, my unbridled gaze flitted around, absorbing the whole essence of the night. I let myself sink back into my hood and closed my eyes. The ocean and the sky never failed to comfort me.

Once my breathing was calm and steady, I allowed my mind to slip back to the subject that always seemed to get me so worked up.

Desmond. I had to get more answers. I didn't know the slightest thing about him, apart from my minor observations in the cafeteria. For goodness sakes, I didn't even know his last name! I could sneak around and collect information about him through the school records, but I had a feeling somehow he'd figure it out. To give him the satisfaction of his stalkee's curiosity concerning his private life--I was not about to let that happen!

The only other way would be through gossip, which wasn't always reliable, or direct confrontation.

*

Monday. It was a dreaded day already, but it was also the day I was going to have a complete conversation with Desmond. I was not looking forward to it.

I barely remembered dragging myself back to my bed after almost drifting off on the beach. Despite being wide awake at 4:30, the second time I woke up, around 7:00, I was dead tired. All throughout my shower I tried to decipher my dream.

Desmond's disguises had to symbolize something. The fortune teller said he was in the shadows, so perhaps he had some dark secret. I vowed to pay attention to any certain topics he avoided when we talked at school. I tried to figure out what the stairs meant, also--he warned me not to go down them.

I stopped scrubbing my hair suddenly. What if the basement signified his past, and he was trying to protect me from it? It was a scary thought. Surely I was just digging too deep into my dream. But what if it was true?

By the time I got to school I was even more determined to discover his secret. I didn't wait around for Emil and Char, but instead went straight to the music room.

I barged through the door without peeking through the window. It slammed loudly behind me, and I turned in a full circle. He wasn't there! The room was empty! I exhaled exasperatedly. Now was not the time to be playing hide and seek!

I racked my brain for any other place he could be. Then it hit me. The roof! Unfortunately, I had no clue how to get on it. I kept hitting dead ends. There was no way I could ask any of the teachers, and the way Emil described it, Desmond was the only other student to ever reach the roof.

Ideas, Ideas... It most definitely wouldn't be in the student's wing, which was probably why I'd never found it. That meant I would have to sneak by all the teachers in the faculty hall, meanwhile watching the time so I wouldn't be late for first period. I cursed Desmond in my head. Why did he have to make it so hard?

A little voice in my head suggested I could wait for him to start stalking me again, but my impatience ignored it. I wanted to talk now.

I ditched my book bag in my locker so I wouldn't have extra luggage and could move faster. I raced through the halls, which were pretty much empty. Once I reached the door separating both wings, I paused. I'd have to be even more careful now that I had the hazard of getting caught.

Slipping through the door, I slinked against the walls, watching each window and door. I passed several unmarked doors, and I hoped the entrance to the roof wasn't in any of them. Others were labeled by each teacher's office, and I really had to be cautious sneaking by the teacher's lounge. Their voices were muffled, but I could tell a lot were inside, and I prayed it was all of them.

Finally, I reached the door marked "Faculty Maintenance Room". Thankfully, it wasn't locked. I took two glances down the hallways and then pushed inside.

It was cleaner than one would expect. A couple water heaters blocked my vision of the whole room, so I walked around for a couple moments before I spotted it.

The door was obvious. "Roof Access Stairwell" it said, and I couldn't believe my luck. I checked my watch. It was around fifteen minutes till the first bell, twenty till the second. I pumped my fist in the air, and then a second time when I saw this door wasn't locked either. For a school, it wasn't very secure.

I shook my head as I ran up the steps. How on earth did Desmond find this room, and why was he even searching for it?! Only one more door stood in my way. I rested my hand on the knob, took a deep breath, and turned it.

The breeze smacked me in the face and almost swung the door wide. I kept my grip on it and slowly clicked it shut. As I turned the corner, I begged my intuition to be right.

It was. There was Desmond, his back to me, sitting leisurely on the edge of the roof. His long legs dangled off the side, and I held my breath as I crept up behind him.

"I know you're there."

I stomped my foot. "How do you always know where I am?!" I shouted angrily.

He turned to me, and his brown eyes glinted in the sunlight. "You're predictable. Also, noisy." He gave me a friendly smile. "Want to sit?"

I did, it looked so cool. My mind tried to protest--he wants you to sit, and he doesn't deserve to get what he wants!--but the urge to swing my legs in the open air overcame it. Though, in a small show of defiance, I sat at least two feet from him.

"Desmond." I spoke first. "Who are you?" I figured it would be best to start out simple.

He was still smiling. "I'm Desmond Chase. And you're Cassidy Lancelow. And our friend here is Barney."

I was confused.

"Barney, the seagull." Desmond waved his hand over to a bird about four feet from us. It was staring at me with that eagle-eye. I felt the annoyance for Desmond surfacing again.

"Can't you just be serious for once?" I urged.

He gave me a look. "And you're the queen of serious," he said sarcastically.

"I'm going to ignore you, okay? I have some questions for you, and I've got around ten minutes to get them answered." I tried to collect all the thoughts swarming in my head.

"Ten minutes? It's seventeen to the bell."

"Yeah, but it takes me at least five minutes to sneak through the halls. Which brings me to my first question: How on earth did you find the roof?!"

Desmond shrugged and swung his legs a little harder. "Every school has a ladder to the roof somewhere. I just decided to explore one day." He grinned. "I didn't expect you to do it the hard way."

I tried to disregard his obvious attempt to get under my skin. "Then you're showing me it before the bell," I commanded. "Second question: Are you psychic?"

He laughed out loud. "Maybe you're not as predictable as I thought," he mused, and I had to fight back my grin. "No. Do you really believe in that stuff?"

I stared directly into his eyes. "Possibly. I believe in a lot of stuff."

His eyes widened. "Oh yeah? Have you ever met a psychic?"

"I think I just did last night," I said, staring off into the distance. His eyebrow went up. I think he expected me to continue, and just for that I didn't. After all, there wasn't much to say. I'd have to tell him about my dream if I said anything more, and that was a definite NOT.

"My turn, Miss Cassidy." He scooted closer, and paused dramatically for effect. "Are you insane?"

My mind tripped over itself. Of course I knew the answer, but should I share it with him? In a spur of the moment decision, I decided to.

"Yes."