Gravity - By Abigail Boyd Page 0,18

from the back row in art class. She glared at me over the fence that separated our house from the neighbors'. Her glittery eyelids sparkled wildly in the low sun. It took her a second to notice that she had been caught, but as soon as she did, she quickly turned around and ran back towards the house behind her.

Although whoever had moved there had only arrived a few months ago, this was the first time I paid any real attention. Awesome, I thought as I started rinsing out the sticky brushes, another person that hates me.

I fed a plate of spaghetti and round meatballs to the hungry carpet. I tipped the plate over and the long noodles cascaded down. The mess disappeared as the carpet absorbed it, nourishing itself. A smear of crimson was all that was left. My actions didn't seem strange to me at all. But the smear looked like something else. Like blood.

I bolted upright in my bed, heart hammering below my ribcage. I didn't think it was a nightmare, but I was scared. Terrified, in fact. I tried taking a few deep breaths, but I couldn't get the air down low enough.

My bedroom was one of three small rooms that came off of the main basement. Our basement ran the entire length of the house and was all finished, so it was very comfortable. The main space had seen its share of entertaining in the day, and couches and a fairly large TV were buried beneath boxes of junk and castoffs from Erasmus. I was grateful for the privacy, although I never did much to take advantage of it.

But now I realized how cut off I was from the rest of the house. Still groggy, I stood up out of bed, bare feet slowly touching the floor. The reason for my fear suddenly became obvious.

There was someone here. An animal instinct took charge. I was sure that someone was watching me. I could feel a change in the regularity of my surroundings, a foreign buzz of electricity. One of these things just doesn't belong...

Fearfully, my eyes darted to my closet first, the usual suspect in slasher films. Before I could think about it too much, I walked over and looked inside. The hair on my arms and neck prickled. Adrenaline made me brave as I pawed through my hanging clothes, but nothing awaited me there.

I turned, half expecting a serial killer in a hockey mask to be casually hanging out behind me, but for all I could see, I was alone. My room wasn't that big and there was really nowhere else for someone to hide. I peeked underneath the bed, but all I could see were shoeboxes.

I opened the creaking door, every second expecting the intruder to show him or herself and catch me off guard. Out in the hall, I peered in the laundry room. The washing machine and dryer stood alone opposite a freezer chest. I lifted the lid of that, not knowing why even as I did it, but the inside harbored only a frozen turkey and leftover freezer pops. Then onto the storage room, although it was so packed with junk no one could jam themselves inside no matter how skinny. The main room awaited me, the only place I hadn't checked.

I flicked on the overhead light, bathing everything in yellow fluorescence. The bric-a-brac and furniture in the room cast shadows on the floor and in the corners. Shadows anything could wait in, watching me as I unknowingly stepped out.

Stop thinking like that, I scolded myself.

I peered behind a few items: a tub of Halloween costumes, a broken box fan, a pile of outdated computer equipment Hugh always said he'd use but never did. But still, I found no sign of the invasion that I felt. The adrenaline ran out, and flight mode threatened to kick in. It took everything I had not to run, but stubbornness is a powerful characteristic, and I had inherited that in spades from Claire. I needed to know what had overrun my house.

There was a sliding glass door downstairs, as our house was built on a slope. Usually, I was proud my parents trusted me not to take advantage of it. Right now, it just made me feel exposed. I contemplated running either up the stairs or to the door. The motion detector lights outside hadn't been activated, and I was certain that I had locked the door before I went to bed.

For a