Steady

Chapter Two

"Bree! Bree, wake up!"

The blaring of Sydney's worried voice pulls me out of sleep's embrace and I jerked awake with a start. Light blinds me and I blink, gasping for breath, grabbing hold of my friend's arm, holding on for dear life.

"Jesus Christ, I thought I was going to have to call 911. Are you okay?" Sydney shakes as she presses a worried hand to my forehead. "Why in the hell are you on the floor?"

It's difficult to process her question, because all I can think about is how cold I felt seconds before she woke me. In my dream, everything was wrong. I was cold, lost, in pain... but not alone.

Sydney hooks her arms under mine and hefts me up until I can sit comfortably. I let out an unattractive groan as my back pops and shifts. Everything aches from sleeping on the hard linoleum floor and every joint protests the sudden shift in position.

"Bree?" Sydney shakes my shoulder, urging me to speak.

"I'm fine."

My mouth tastes like sandpaper, my head is pounding, and it feels like I went three rounds with Mike Tyson, but yeah, other than that I'm fine.

"Why were you out here on the floor?" she asks again, her voice harder and louder than before. "Were you sleepwalking?"

I open my mouth to answer, only to clamp it shut as a cold film of recollection coats my pores. The party. The Ouija board. The noise. The movement...and then the pain.

My mind whirls as I try to think of something to tell Sydney; something that isn't the truth. I know her well enough to know that she'll either get pissed about the Ouija board all over again or she'll start to worry about my health and maybe even my sanity. Hell, I'm starting to question it myself.

Reason tells me that there's a slim chance I dreamed the whole thing. Maybe I actually did sleepwalk my way in here. Maybe my heart was acting up and I saw things that weren't really there.

"What time is it?" I ask, evading her question.

"A little after eight. Don't you have a nine o'clock final?"

"Crap. Yes." I rub the sleep from my eyes and stretch out my muscles before slowly making my way off the floor and into the bathroom, with Syd trailing a few paces behind me.

"So, you ended up on the floor and you have no idea how?"

"Pretty much." I slather a dollop of minty paste over my toothbrush.

"Sleepwalking? Weird reaction to the alcohol? What?"

I glance in the mirror to see Sydney, arms crossed, hair disheveled, staring curiously as she leans against the door frame.

"Maybe," I mumble around a mouthful of foam.

"Maybe what?" She lifts her arms then lets them fall, growing increasingly annoyed at being given the runaround.

"I don't know. Don't you have a final at nine, too?"

"Nine thirty, actually. But I need to return some library books before then," she pauses, looking me over. "Are you sure you're okay, Bree?"

"Of course." I rinse my mouth and offer her a weak smile as I pass. "Never better."

Sydney narrows her eyes, searching for the crack in my armor, but I ignore her assessing stare as I throw my hair up into a messy bun, tug a t-shirt and jeans on over my camisole and sleep boxers, and sling my bag over my shoulder.