Untitled Chapter 12 (Michael's Order)

    When I wake up in the morning, I want to fall back asleep and into my dream. I’d been holding hands with Michael walking through the school hallway. The dream seemed to fast-forward and we’re standing in the hall again, except his arms are around my waist and my arms are wrapped around him and I’m just able to see over his shoulder as I cling to him.
    It’s the first good dream I’ve had in a while and there’s no doubt that it’s due to the absence of the shadows since Michael has arrived. I don’t think it’s that they’ve stopped coming for me, but that Michael’s just been stopping them before they can get to me. Maybe it’s due to the fact the Michael is here, period.
    I would love to conjure the images and feelings from the dream and take in the happiness of them.
    But the sun is up and it’s seven. I wash my face, brush my teeth, and throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before lacing up my Converse sneakers. Powder foundation is all I really need since my skin is clear of blemishes and smooth along with eyeliner because without it, it seems that I look a little tired. I rarely wear mascara because I find it hard to get it jut right, without any clumps or anything. I swipe on some neutral color lipstick that doesn’t make much of a difference then reach for my lips gloss but a hand stops me.
    I don’t jump because Michael has entered my room unannounced and unnoticed, because over the past week, I’ve gotten pretty used to it. I jump because the warm touch of his hand on mine sends a jolt through my entire body and my stomach turn to jelly.
    My eyes flash up to him in surprise.    
    “You look better without it.” He tells me.
    Still looking at him, I drop my lip glass back into the little pink and white polka dot pouch I keep all my makeup in and he removes his hand from mine.
    “I’ll give you a ride today.” Michael says, nodding his head in a gesture for me to come with him.
    Slightly confused, I pick up my purse and gym bag with my track shorts, running shoes, and blue uniform in it and follow him out of my room.
    “Where are Gabby and Erin?” I ask as we head downstairs.
    “They’ve been called back.” Michael replies.
    “Why?”
    “Only God knows.”
    I’m not exactly sure if he’s making a joke or not.
    
    The rest of the day goes on as usual, except that Amy is pretty pissed that I forgot to call her this morning and tell her I didn’t need a ride. The only mishap is that Michael’s early arrival had made me forget, not only calling Amy, but eating breakfast.
    I’m hypoglycemic, which doesn’t really affect me at all because I’m always eating or always hungry. But since I’d skipped breakfast and haven’t eaten anything since last night, I’m feeling dizzy and a little loopy.
    “Are you alright?” Amy asks me when I get to Mr. Hoffman’s.
    “I’m just a little dizzy.”
    “Did you eat or drink anything?”
    I’ve only been aware of hypoglycemia for about a year or two. Before, I’d just thought passing out was normal since it’s been happening for as long as I remember, but my parents had finally taken me to the doctor a couple years ago, when I was fourteen.
    I’d told Amy and she’s experienced my passing out multiple times. The first time, I had been curling my hair and started freaking out because I knew I was passing out. She’s tried to catch me and ended up with a burn from the curling iron on her hip. The second time I had gone crazy for a bit, raving about how good the sun felt. She thought I’d been high.
    “No.” I reply. “I think I’m just gonna go to the caff for some food.”
    It’s obvious that Amy is uncomfortable with the fact that I don’t ask her to come with me. Because it means that someone else will be coming with me, and it’s not someone she likes.
    But when I turn around, Michael isn’t sitting in his usual seat. In fact, he’s not in Mr. Hoffman’s at all. Slightly disappointed, but not about to ask anyone to come with me, I head down the hall.
    “You’re supposed to kill her when the other couldn’t.” I can hear a familiar Southern drawl say in realization and I turn the corner to see Gabby and Erin standing with Michael. “That’s the order you didn’t obey.”
    Just then Michael’s head snaps up and his eyes resting on me in alarm. Gabby and Erin turn around, no longer obstructing the path between Michael and me.
    “Lia.” Michael says, putting out a hand as if to calm me.
    “What is she talking about?” I ask, my eyes on only Michael.
    “Lia, this isn’t the time or place--”
    “Gabby, what are you talking about?” I turn to Gabby is Michael isn’t willing to answer. The agitation in my voice is obvious, it’s getting more desperate.
    “Lia--” His voice rises louder, more insistent.
    “Tell me what you mean!” I finally shout, trying to fight back how dizzy I felt.
    Michael sighs, his eyes and face show emotion. He looks tired and pained.
    “You--” He stops and sighs again as if to prepare himself. “You were never meant to live.” He begins walking toward me and when he’s five feet away I begin backing away from him.
    “What?” I try to ask, but only my mouth moves, no words come out.
    “But the future has been unwritten.” Michael says, his blue-grey eyes, begging me to understand.
    I’m getting dizzier and dizzier and I’m not sure if it’s because I haven’t had anything to eat or because of what I’m hearing. Barely able to feel the movements, I take slow steps away from him.
    “You live.” Michael says coaxingly. “And while you do, there’s still hope.”
    I can’t argue back. My hand finds the railing and I use it to support myself as black spots cloud my vision. My hands feel all clammy and my knees begin to shake.
    “Lia?” Michael senses something is wrong and he reaches out to me.
    “Lia, honey?” Gabby’s face is obstructed by the spots of black floating around.
    BOOM. I’m on the ground.
    “She’s hypoglycemic, idiots.” Erin’s voice says. “Get her something to eat.”
    Their voices are far away and distant. The kind of quiet voices you hear when someone talks to you on an airplane or when you’re just waking up. It’s hard to listen because you can’t quite focus on it.
    Michael’s face appears in my vision. He stares down at me, tortured expression, hands on my face, begging me to stay awake.