Chapter 1 -
04/16/2017
Three years, three months, and three days ago. To be exact. That’s when my heart skipped a beat out of the blue and a vision flashed into my head, throwing me off guard.
I had seen everything surrounding me slow down. Outside the window, a bird flew across the branches. But it looked suspended in midair, its chirping lingered. Inside the living room my cat, Swallow, was in the middle of a stretch, each move seeming to take a full minute to complete. On the table, even the steam from the coffee ceased rising, forming a white blur atop the travel mug.
Against these broken motions, I was rising. My feet dangled off the floor. My body arched back, curving along my spine. My arms fell, dropping the phone to the ground. Soon I reached the ceiling.
“Sasha!” Mom’s voice trailed from the driveway, snatching me back.
The visions dissipated into white spots. I snapped to focus, and glared down at the dark blue denim shorts in my hands.
“In a minute!” I pulled it up quickly and tucked a corner of my gray tee shirt into the waistband.
That was weird. I pushed away the thought about the strange images, as I headed downstairs. I must be out of my element from packing everything last minute.
The cloudy day in early June dragged with humid air. When I shoved the door open with my suitcase, the thick, moist heat hit me like a flying brick.
I rolled my head. Still damp from the shower, my waves of hair fell to one side, as I mentally sorted the things that I needed for the trip.
The blow-dryer. That’s for sure, although it wouldn’t do much good in this heat. The retro horn rimmed sunglasses. The slim sandal. The hooded windbreaker. My ribbon. The ribbon.
I should be focusing on more serious stuff like my father losing his job as a middle-school physics teacher a few months ago. Now we had to leave Boston for his new position in Vermont over two-hundred miles away.
When my parents announced to Samuel and me that we were heading to a hick town called Enosburg in Vermont, they called it a family vacation. “Just for the summer.”
Sure. I hadn’t even bother raising an eyebrow. I wasn’t one to let my expression betray my thoughts.
What my parents really wanted was to see if we would adjust to living in Enosburg before the family settled there. Permanently. Their plan was to start a new life. I should have called them out on it. But what was the point of doing that, if I couldn’t change anything?
It wasn’t that I was reluctant to leave Boston. The city was ancient. Having lived here all my life I never felt that I belonged. On a number of occasions when I skipped across the potholes along narrow and gritty streets between red brick buildings, I tried to envision leading a life outside the city.
I always felt this curiosity rooted deep inside me. I itched for something different.
But I wasn’t sure if, at age fifteen, I was ready to move away from everything familiar just to settle into stifling suburbia. Right now things were uncertain and I’d rather think about what I needed for the trip.
I stopped at the minivan and watched my mother come around the back. Undeterred by her ample figure, she always moved about with quick and steady strides, carrying an air of certainty. I admired Galina Soboleva. My mother had the confidence I so desperately wanted for myself.
Mom tossed aside her wavy golden tresses and popped open the back of the minivan. I watched her study my gray suitcase with her deep-set emerald eyes. “You can just leave it there, Sasha,” she told me. I nodded and slipped to the side. “We got all the stuff here, Jay,” she said again.
My father nodded to her. At six feet five inches, Jay Ears was someone you wouldn’t miss in a crowd, even at five o’clock on a Friday afternoon inside South Station.
Stooping down, he reached into the back of the minivan and placed the first aid kit against the back of the seats before angling down the cooler. My gaze followed him, as he reshuffled a few other items in the trunk. He worked without glancing around, beads of sweat trailing down from his forehead. When he straightened, he flashed a soft grin at us, and then hoisted my suitcase into the space he had just made.
Dad’s real name was Jie Ye. It was a name that he had run from for the better part of his life. In the early seventies, he fled northern China after witnessing the suicides of his parents behind their mud house. When he arrived the United States, he Americanized his name, as a way to cut ties to the country of his origin.
I left my parents to attend the luggage and I caught Sam struggle to pull on something next to him, his seatbelt stretched tight. His sandy hair wafted about his tanned cheeks.
Ten years my junior, Sam was always mischievous. What set my brother and I apart was how our parents treated us. They adored Sam, as they did me. But there was always something different in the way they looked at me when they thought that I wasn’t watching.
What was the word? Apologetic! Yes. My parents catered to my every need, as if they felt sorry for me. Maybe for the fact that I was nothing like them.
Appearance wise, I was a strange blend. I inherited my father’s long limbs and I got a bloodless complexion credited to my mother’s pale skin tone. A mop of thick black hair cascaded in wild waves. A few strands crisscrossed my cheeks, coating my eyes.
Someone had once complimented me by calling my eyes “almond-shaped.” But I wasn’t so sure about the flattery, because there was an odd thing about my right pupil—a dab of jade around my hazel-colored iris. I must have looked to my parents like I was at the mercy of a wacky sculpturist.
My parents felt sorry for me. They had done their best to make up for my deficiency in looks and flair.
As much as I loved my family, I preferred nursing my difference in private, away from any unsolicited attention. I felt a sense of detachment, some might say. It was really just that I found comfort in solitude. Or in the company of Swallow, my cat, whose eyes were just like mine with a tint of emerald in her brown pupil.
When I pulled open the door, Swallow peeked out from under the car seat. Sam must have unfastened the carrier, when my parents left it by his booster seat.
I reached down for Swallow, as she slid out and leaped over. Pacing around my feet, she rubbed her forehead against my ankle before sticking up her rear. I reached down and pampered her with a backrub. When I straightened, I caught the reflection of a flock of birds cruising across the hazy sky from the black tinted car window.
“Wait,” I called out to my parents and I spun around.
Where was it? I ran toward the house with Swallow scuttling next to me. It must have slipped out of my shorts when I sped down the stairs.
Once inside the house, it didn’t take me long to find what I was looking for. My phone was on the table and I snatched it right up. I was ready for the door, when it vibrated, indicating an incoming call. I peeped down to find a red light flashing with no display of a caller ID.
Who could that be? My eyebrows narrowed. I decided to ignore the buzz, but the phone throbbed. It turned burning hot.
“Ouch!” My hand jerked in reaction. In a rush, I pressed one of the buttons on the phone. A number appeared. The digits looked strangely familiar. Where had I seen it before?
My skin prickled when it hit me that I was gazing at my own number. That was weird. My heart pounded fast. I was too curious to brush it off now.
I pressed the button again and felt the phone cool in my grip. The screen darkened until a green light came on, signaling that the call had connected. I held my breath as I brought the phone to my left ear.
“Hello!” said a man, “Are you ready to begin your journey?” he asked.
“Excuse me?” The question took me by surprise.
“Are you ready to begin your journey?”
To Enosburg Vermont? I bit the inside of my cheek. “Who is this?” I demanded.
“Please answer if you are ready to begin your journey.” The question came the third time as a reply.
It must be a call from the resort confirming our reservation, I thought. I was puzzled that the clerk had my number instead of either of my parents’ numbers on file.
“You are ready. Yes?”
I finally relented, whispering a response. “Sure.”
“OK. Confirmed,” the man said. I detected a very subtle change in his tone. He seemed excited. “With your permission, the Apogee Course is now engaged for your entry.”
What Apogee Course? Was this a prank call? I was on edge.
For a moment, everything grew quiet. Not a sound came through the other end of the line. The entire house turned unnervingly silent. My eyes cut across the room, and I saw the hands of the clock on the wall dissolve. Things became strange, very strange.
“You will take off on the count of three,” the man went on. I caught a series of rhythmical noises in the background.
What was happening?
My body jolted forward. My arms dropped to the sides. My cell phone slipped off my hand. When it hit the floor, the voice of the caller faded out of earshot. A puff of wind swept my feet off the ground and hurled me up in the air.
What’s going on? I glanced around, my eyelashes batting. My hair, as unruly as I was tense, twirled around my shoulders.
Time seemed to slow down. Outside the window a bird flew across the branches. But it looked suspended in midair, its chirping lingered. Inside the living room my cat, Swallow, was in the middle of a stretch, each move taking a full minute to complete. On the table, even the steams from the coffee ceased rising, forming a white blur atop the travel mug.
A realization crashed over me that I was seeing the visions I had earlier. Only now they weren’t just visions. Things were really happening!
Out of nowhere I smelled lavender. The fragrance diffused in the warm air, like an overspill resulting from a deliberate act. It stuffed the room and a wave of fatigue washed over me.
I began to think that someone had tossed me up in the air like a scarf caught in the wind. I was reaching the ceiling.
Help.
I wanted to call out to my parents. My mouth fell open. My fists were clenched tight. My knees bent at an angle. But I couldn’t strike a blow with my legs. I couldn’t throw a punch with my hands. I couldn’t even squeeze a sound from my throat. I was utterly and helplessly paralyzed.
It must be the lavender, I thought. The scent permeated the room, making my eyelids grow heavy by the minute.
Stay awake!
I bit my lip and fought to break away from whatever force had come over me. But I was too out of it now. Against my will, my eyes shut tight.
“Alexandra Sasha Ears,” the man’s voice returned. No longer through my phone, he spoke directly into my ear. “Three. Two. One. Go.”
That was the moment when my whole life turned upside down.
I had seen everything surrounding me slow down. Outside the window, a bird flew across the branches. But it looked suspended in midair, its chirping lingered. Inside the living room my cat, Swallow, was in the middle of a stretch, each move seeming to take a full minute to complete. On the table, even the steam from the coffee ceased rising, forming a white blur atop the travel mug.
Against these broken motions, I was rising. My feet dangled off the floor. My body arched back, curving along my spine. My arms fell, dropping the phone to the ground. Soon I reached the ceiling.
“Sasha!” Mom’s voice trailed from the driveway, snatching me back.
The visions dissipated into white spots. I snapped to focus, and glared down at the dark blue denim shorts in my hands.
“In a minute!” I pulled it up quickly and tucked a corner of my gray tee shirt into the waistband.
That was weird. I pushed away the thought about the strange images, as I headed downstairs. I must be out of my element from packing everything last minute.
The cloudy day in early June dragged with humid air. When I shoved the door open with my suitcase, the thick, moist heat hit me like a flying brick.
I rolled my head. Still damp from the shower, my waves of hair fell to one side, as I mentally sorted the things that I needed for the trip.
The blow-dryer. That’s for sure, although it wouldn’t do much good in this heat. The retro horn rimmed sunglasses. The slim sandal. The hooded windbreaker. My ribbon. The ribbon.
I should be focusing on more serious stuff like my father losing his job as a middle-school physics teacher a few months ago. Now we had to leave Boston for his new position in Vermont over two-hundred miles away.
When my parents announced to Samuel and me that we were heading to a hick town called Enosburg in Vermont, they called it a family vacation. “Just for the summer.”
Sure. I hadn’t even bother raising an eyebrow. I wasn’t one to let my expression betray my thoughts.
What my parents really wanted was to see if we would adjust to living in Enosburg before the family settled there. Permanently. Their plan was to start a new life. I should have called them out on it. But what was the point of doing that, if I couldn’t change anything?
It wasn’t that I was reluctant to leave Boston. The city was ancient. Having lived here all my life I never felt that I belonged. On a number of occasions when I skipped across the potholes along narrow and gritty streets between red brick buildings, I tried to envision leading a life outside the city.
I always felt this curiosity rooted deep inside me. I itched for something different.
But I wasn’t sure if, at age fifteen, I was ready to move away from everything familiar just to settle into stifling suburbia. Right now things were uncertain and I’d rather think about what I needed for the trip.
I stopped at the minivan and watched my mother come around the back. Undeterred by her ample figure, she always moved about with quick and steady strides, carrying an air of certainty. I admired Galina Soboleva. My mother had the confidence I so desperately wanted for myself.
Mom tossed aside her wavy golden tresses and popped open the back of the minivan. I watched her study my gray suitcase with her deep-set emerald eyes. “You can just leave it there, Sasha,” she told me. I nodded and slipped to the side. “We got all the stuff here, Jay,” she said again.
My father nodded to her. At six feet five inches, Jay Ears was someone you wouldn’t miss in a crowd, even at five o’clock on a Friday afternoon inside South Station.
Stooping down, he reached into the back of the minivan and placed the first aid kit against the back of the seats before angling down the cooler. My gaze followed him, as he reshuffled a few other items in the trunk. He worked without glancing around, beads of sweat trailing down from his forehead. When he straightened, he flashed a soft grin at us, and then hoisted my suitcase into the space he had just made.
Dad’s real name was Jie Ye. It was a name that he had run from for the better part of his life. In the early seventies, he fled northern China after witnessing the suicides of his parents behind their mud house. When he arrived the United States, he Americanized his name, as a way to cut ties to the country of his origin.
I left my parents to attend the luggage and I caught Sam struggle to pull on something next to him, his seatbelt stretched tight. His sandy hair wafted about his tanned cheeks.
Ten years my junior, Sam was always mischievous. What set my brother and I apart was how our parents treated us. They adored Sam, as they did me. But there was always something different in the way they looked at me when they thought that I wasn’t watching.
What was the word? Apologetic! Yes. My parents catered to my every need, as if they felt sorry for me. Maybe for the fact that I was nothing like them.
Appearance wise, I was a strange blend. I inherited my father’s long limbs and I got a bloodless complexion credited to my mother’s pale skin tone. A mop of thick black hair cascaded in wild waves. A few strands crisscrossed my cheeks, coating my eyes.
Someone had once complimented me by calling my eyes “almond-shaped.” But I wasn’t so sure about the flattery, because there was an odd thing about my right pupil—a dab of jade around my hazel-colored iris. I must have looked to my parents like I was at the mercy of a wacky sculpturist.
My parents felt sorry for me. They had done their best to make up for my deficiency in looks and flair.
As much as I loved my family, I preferred nursing my difference in private, away from any unsolicited attention. I felt a sense of detachment, some might say. It was really just that I found comfort in solitude. Or in the company of Swallow, my cat, whose eyes were just like mine with a tint of emerald in her brown pupil.
When I pulled open the door, Swallow peeked out from under the car seat. Sam must have unfastened the carrier, when my parents left it by his booster seat.
I reached down for Swallow, as she slid out and leaped over. Pacing around my feet, she rubbed her forehead against my ankle before sticking up her rear. I reached down and pampered her with a backrub. When I straightened, I caught the reflection of a flock of birds cruising across the hazy sky from the black tinted car window.
“Wait,” I called out to my parents and I spun around.
Where was it? I ran toward the house with Swallow scuttling next to me. It must have slipped out of my shorts when I sped down the stairs.
Once inside the house, it didn’t take me long to find what I was looking for. My phone was on the table and I snatched it right up. I was ready for the door, when it vibrated, indicating an incoming call. I peeped down to find a red light flashing with no display of a caller ID.
Who could that be? My eyebrows narrowed. I decided to ignore the buzz, but the phone throbbed. It turned burning hot.
“Ouch!” My hand jerked in reaction. In a rush, I pressed one of the buttons on the phone. A number appeared. The digits looked strangely familiar. Where had I seen it before?
My skin prickled when it hit me that I was gazing at my own number. That was weird. My heart pounded fast. I was too curious to brush it off now.
I pressed the button again and felt the phone cool in my grip. The screen darkened until a green light came on, signaling that the call had connected. I held my breath as I brought the phone to my left ear.
“Hello!” said a man, “Are you ready to begin your journey?” he asked.
“Excuse me?” The question took me by surprise.
“Are you ready to begin your journey?”
To Enosburg Vermont? I bit the inside of my cheek. “Who is this?” I demanded.
“Please answer if you are ready to begin your journey.” The question came the third time as a reply.
It must be a call from the resort confirming our reservation, I thought. I was puzzled that the clerk had my number instead of either of my parents’ numbers on file.
“You are ready. Yes?”
I finally relented, whispering a response. “Sure.”
“OK. Confirmed,” the man said. I detected a very subtle change in his tone. He seemed excited. “With your permission, the Apogee Course is now engaged for your entry.”
What Apogee Course? Was this a prank call? I was on edge.
For a moment, everything grew quiet. Not a sound came through the other end of the line. The entire house turned unnervingly silent. My eyes cut across the room, and I saw the hands of the clock on the wall dissolve. Things became strange, very strange.
“You will take off on the count of three,” the man went on. I caught a series of rhythmical noises in the background.
What was happening?
My body jolted forward. My arms dropped to the sides. My cell phone slipped off my hand. When it hit the floor, the voice of the caller faded out of earshot. A puff of wind swept my feet off the ground and hurled me up in the air.
What’s going on? I glanced around, my eyelashes batting. My hair, as unruly as I was tense, twirled around my shoulders.
Time seemed to slow down. Outside the window a bird flew across the branches. But it looked suspended in midair, its chirping lingered. Inside the living room my cat, Swallow, was in the middle of a stretch, each move taking a full minute to complete. On the table, even the steams from the coffee ceased rising, forming a white blur atop the travel mug.
A realization crashed over me that I was seeing the visions I had earlier. Only now they weren’t just visions. Things were really happening!
Out of nowhere I smelled lavender. The fragrance diffused in the warm air, like an overspill resulting from a deliberate act. It stuffed the room and a wave of fatigue washed over me.
I began to think that someone had tossed me up in the air like a scarf caught in the wind. I was reaching the ceiling.
Help.
I wanted to call out to my parents. My mouth fell open. My fists were clenched tight. My knees bent at an angle. But I couldn’t strike a blow with my legs. I couldn’t throw a punch with my hands. I couldn’t even squeeze a sound from my throat. I was utterly and helplessly paralyzed.
It must be the lavender, I thought. The scent permeated the room, making my eyelids grow heavy by the minute.
Stay awake!
I bit my lip and fought to break away from whatever force had come over me. But I was too out of it now. Against my will, my eyes shut tight.
“Alexandra Sasha Ears,” the man’s voice returned. No longer through my phone, he spoke directly into my ear. “Three. Two. One. Go.”
That was the moment when my whole life turned upside down.
