First

Oh, Tre’quan! whispered Lyssa sighing deeply. I love you so much! Hold me in your arms and never let me go!

Lyssa was sixteen years old and loved Tre’quan Havelock with all her heart. She knew they were made for each other, were soul mates fated to be together forever.

Tre’quan, on the other hand, didn’t know Lyssa existed.

She pulled his picture in for another passionate kiss, being careful not to get spit on it or hold it too tightly. All the pictures she had of him had been clipped from the school newspaper and were kind of fragile. It was the last good one she had, the others having been dampened and crumpled when, by accident, she’d handled them too roughly.

Lyssa Ann Brunner! For the third time - turn that light out and go to bed! shouted her mother from the bottom of the stairs.

"I am in bed, Mom!" she yelled, highly annoyed. Why did she always have to spoil things for her? And how would she know the light was still on? She was downstairs - was there a hidden camera in her room or something? All she was trying to do was kiss her one true love goodnight!

"Well, turn out the light and go to sleep, then! Do you know what time it is? You have to get up early in the morning!"

Lyssa mumbled under her breath. She reached over and shoved her lamp switch so hard that the small, pink-flowered, chintzy lamp almost fell off the nightstand. It’s off now, Mom! Are you satisfied? I know what time it is!

She didn’t actually say this out loud as she didn’t want her mother to come clomping up the stairs and flinging her door open to give her a lecture about being a sassy-mouth, never mind that she’d just reminded her of how late it was and coming up to her room would delay sleep even longer.

Lyssa wasn’t stupid. It only took that happening once for her to learn her lesson. She’d been grounded for the following weekend and missed going to see that new movie with her best friend, Mags.

She opened the nightstand drawer and carefully placed the picture inside. She scooted back down under her covers.

She was desperate to find a way to get Tre’quan to notice her, something she’d been trying to make happen for two months now. She sighed. If only she wasn’t so drab. She looked like a nerd!... which, she admitted to herself, she was.

She fell asleep thinking of him, hoping to dream of him, but, though she did dream, it wasn’t of Tre’quan. She woke up right before her alarm went off, and reached over to hit the silence switch before it started making its annoying buzz.

She hated that clock. Her mother bought it for her and didn’t get the one she wanted, the one with the picture of the lead singer of her favorite boy band, Signs of Time. That one played one of their songs as an alarm.

When Lyssa explained it wasn’t the one she wanted, her mother said, I asked you to go with me, and you didn’t want to. Just be happy I remembered you needed a new clock.

As soon as Lyssa got the chance, she was going to replace it.

She dragged out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom down the hall.

After completing her morning wash-and-brush routine, she stood in front of her closet trying to decide what blouse to wear with which pants. She frowned. Everything she had was dreary and uninspiring. Boring. But her mother wouldn’t let her get the cute, up-to-the-minute, cool clothes she wanted. The kind that might attract Tre’quan.

She finally pulled out her pastel-yellow, short-sleeved, button-down-the-front blouse with the rounded collar, and her crisply creased tan slacks.

Might as well go all-nerd, she thought sourly, deciding to wear her brown penny-loafers.

She checked herself in her full-length mirror, making sure her off-black, unruly hair looked as best it could, and her non-fabulous clothes were in place. As usual, she wished she were taller - not that she was particularly short, she was a good five-feet-three-inches, almost as tall as her mother who said she’d probably get a couple of more inches - but she was still shorter than Mags, and she was so skinny! If her chest were any flatter, it would be concave, and her butt was the same. It was embarrassing. I’m a black girl, she groused to herself, I should at least have a good butt! I’m shaped like a number two pencil. She eyed her butt with disgust as she stuck it out trying to make it look less flat. She made a face.

She had light skin like her mother, but fortunately, like her father, she had full lips and a less than narrow nose, so she seldom got mistaken for anything other than black when seen up close.

She gazed into her eyes, wishing they were the same beautiful shade of gray as her mother and father’s eyes. Just her luck to have two parents with fantastic steel-gray eyes and come out with washed-out dull brown ones. Well, they did have a few flecks of gray, but they were basically brown.

When she was twelve, she asked her mother why they had gray eyes while she didn’t. Her mother pointed out that the majority of black people had brown ones. She’d explained that her eyes were gray because her great-grandmother’s father was white and had gray eyes, and she’d taken her eye color after them.

What about Daddy? Does he have a half-white great-grandma too?

Her mother had laughed. No. Some people just get gray ones, Lyssa, or blue ones - like Patsy and Lew. You can see, right? Well, quit worrying about it. Your eyes are fine the way they are.

Patsy and Lew Remington were long-time family friends. In spite of the blue eyes and relatively light skin, they were black. They were also Lyssa’s best friend Mags’ parents, and Mags had inherited their eye color. Why couldn’t she have inherited all-gray ones like her parents?

Her mother had said, You know my mother and father have brown eyes, so it’s not surprising yours are brown, too. No one can control which way their genes match up, dear. Let it go.

She’d let it drop, but she still thought it was highly unfair.

Now she thought, grumpily, I bet I inherited my flat butt from that long-ago, how-ever-many-greats grandparent, too.

She studied her face critically. If only her mother would let her use a little more make-up. She felt the small amount of eye-liner, and pale, almost colorless lipstick she recently began allowing her to wear sure wasn’t doing much to enhance her dingy skin tone.

She may have light skin like her mother, but on her, it looked a whole lot different - flat and lifeless. She spent a moment wishing her skin had the same vibrant glow as her mother’s, or that she had her father’s darker, smooth complexion that made him look like an African prince - even with the gray eyes. It was something she sometimes daydreamed he was since he’d originally come from somewhere in Africa as an orphaned refugee. And she would’ve given a million bucks for either one’s hair, her mother’s luxurious jet-black locks, or her father’s deep brown ringlets.

The month before, she’d turned sixteen, and her mother and father said she could single date. She snorted, remembering that conversation. As if anybody (especially Tre’quan) was ever going to ask her for a date. She was probably going to be stuck group-dating for the rest of her life.

She made a face at herself, studying her hair, which was growing out from her last try at a short style, and as usual, looked a tad frizzy.

Geez. I look like a number two pencil with a chewed eraser! She peered closer, frowning. A number two pencil with a zit! She groaned. When had that happened?

Of all the things to wake up with... Good thing I noticed that before I walked out the door!

She resisted the urge to pinch at the small swelling above her left eye. She’d started getting those a few months back, and her mother warned her not to mess with it the first time she got one. She hadn’t listened and picked at it, which made it worse. It turned red and swelled to twice its original size.

She grimaced, remembering how embarrassed she was to have to go to school with that colossal lump attached to her forehead. She didn’t get zits often, but as far as she was concerned, getting one at all was too often. They always showed up on her forehead above her left or right eye. Once, she got them above both eyes at the same time.

Looked like I was growing horns - or antennas, she recalled.

After she got the first one, her mother took her to the family doctor. He referred them to a dermatologist who checked her out and mixed up a yellowish, odorless ointment in a jar that she said would help.

Now she pulled the jar from her dresser drawer and slathered on a finger full, letting it sit there for a minute before wiping off the excess. As usual, as soon as she finished and tossed the cotton-ball, the swelling was already going down. She didn’t know what the stuff was, but it was good. By the time she got to school, it would hardly be noticeable.

She was slipping her shoes on, noticing that she needed to redo her nails, when her mother yelled from downstairs, Hurry up, Lyssa! You barely have time for breakfast! And your dad wants to say good-bye!

I’m coming, Mom! God! Didn’t the woman have any patience? But she speeded up because she wanted to see her father before he left. He was going on the last of his four-times-yearly business trips for the computer company where he worked.

How’s my pretty girl? he asked in that deep, rich voice of his, smiling as she came into the kitchen. Though he had been in America for years, his English still bore a slight accent.

Great, Daddy. At least he thinks I’m pretty, she thought.

Well, come give me a hug, I’ve got to go.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he gave her a gentle squeeze.

She snuggled into his chest. He always made her feel so safe. He would be gone for only a week, but she was going to miss him.

He kissed her forehead and said, What do you want me to bring back for you?

Oh, Daddy, you know I don’t care. Surprise me. He always brought her a gift back from his trips, usually something odd but always something she liked.

He smiled. Okay. One surprise coming up, baby girl. He went over to where her mother was fixing a plate at the counter, and said softly, Take care, Neecy. I love you.

Denice Brunner, otherwise known as Neecy, put the plate down and smiled up at him as he enfolded her in his arms.

I love you too, Aaron. Drive carefully.

They gazed at each other for a moment, Neecy gently caressing his smiling face.

Lyssa rolled her eyes and turned away, feeling slightly embarrassed, but secretly, she didn’t really mind their displays of affection. Even though they were old (almost forty-five!), they still loved each other. She knew kids with separated or divorced parents, and she would be devastated if her mother and father ever broke up.

Neecy watched her husband leave, losing her smile. A small frown crinkled her brow, and a slightly worried look settled in her eyes. She turned and handed Lyssa the plate she’d fixed. They heard the garage door open and then close as Aaron drove away.

Chapter Two

A Crash

I’ve got to get to the restaurant early, so hurry and eat your breakfast, dear, Neecy said. She went toward the stairs. I’ll be back down in a few minutes. Be finished by then.

Lyssa listened as her mother went up the steps. She resented the way she ordered her to eat, as though she were a little kid. And, because of her extensive allergies, her mother always insisted on checking out any new foods before she was allowed to eat them. She hated that, too. She sighed, wishing she could have cold cereal occasionally, or one of those breakfast bars Mags said were sooo good.

Plus, she always had to take a lunch to school - which her mother made for her. She wished she could try the food in the cafeteria.

She knew most of the foods she shouldn’t have and felt she should be able to decide for herself what she could eat. Well, there was that one time some of the members of her chess club stopped to get a snack after their meeting, and one offered her a slice of pizza. It hadn’t seemed to have any of the forbidden stuff on it, so she ate it. Bad move. She got sick almost immediately and barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up. Ugh. Her head felt as if she’d banged it up against a wall or something.

Okay, so maybe she’d made a mistake that once, but it hadn’t killed her. She figured that all she had to do was be careful and make sure not to eat anything that contained any of the ingredients in the pizza that made her sick. Her mother said it was likely one of the spices and warned her for the millionth time that she was not to eat anything without running it by her first.

Lyssa thought if she made sure not to eat anything spicy, she’d be okay. Of course, so far, she hadn’t worked up her nerve to try it again.

She sighed. Having to bring her lunch to school sure didn’t help her win any popularity. Oh, the kids were generally sociable, and all, but Mags was her only close friend.

She and Mags grew up together. They even called each other’s parents aunt and uncle, though they weren’t related at all. She sometimes wondered, though, that if their mothers hadn’t kept pushing them together when they were small if they would be such good friends now.

Still, they liked each other, and Mags’ mother made her bring a lunch to school too because Mags also had food allergies. But Mags’ allergies weren’t as extensive as hers, and unlike her, Mags had lots of other friends, too.

It wasn’t as if Lyssa didn’t have any other friends. She did, such as the ones in the chess and book clubs of which she was a member - all nerds like her - but she wasn’t as close to them as she was to Mags.

Of course, Mags - who was not a nerd - had an outgoing personality and was gorgeous. She had thick, long, black hair, and her mother let her add auburn highlights. She had an amazing perfect complexion and unusual-for-a-black-girl light blue eyes. Her skin was nearly as light as Lyssa’s but had more of a glow. In contrast to Lyssa, she also had a fabulous, long-legged, filled-out figure that she kept in shape with the martial arts class she went to every week. Plus, her mother let her choose her own clothes and wear more make-up. Heck, all the cute boys hung around her.

Mags was a good friend, though. She knew Lyssa liked Tre’quan, so she ignored his recent flirting with her. So far, it hadn’t deterred him, and he never noticed Lyssa beside Mags looking cow-eyed up at him.

Mags didn’t much care for Tre’quan because she said after being made captain of the football team, a rare feat for a junior, he changed. She’d never gone out with him, but she said before that, he was an okay guy

Now he’s a smug know-it-all who acts as if he’s God’s gift, she told Lyssa one day. But, if you like him, you oughtta say something to him. He ain’t never gonna know unless you do.

Lyssa shook her head sadly. You know I don’t have the nerve, Mags!

She wasn’t as outgoing as Mags, and she found her tongue had trouble working when she was around Tre’quan. She never said anything to him because she knew she’d pass out if she tried. Every time she looked at him, her mouth dried out, and her brain stuttered, leaving her unable to say much of anything.

She stared at her plate of eggs, one strip of bacon, and what her mother called a breakfast salad that consisted of a type of lettuce with mushrooms and tiny red, sweet peppery things that were delicious. Her mother called them torhoroas.

She so wanted to not eat it, just to spite her mother, but actually she was pretty hungry, so she picked up her fork idly wishing that she had a little brother or sister. Maybe then her mother wouldn’t spend all her time focusing on her.

She was shoveling food into her mouth when there was a loud crash and a splintering noise as if something had slammed into the house upstairs. The whole place shook, and the lights blinked out for a split second. They immediately came back on but kept flickering.

She froze, fork halfway to her mouth, her body flooding with sudden adrenaline. Then she hopped to her feet, dropping the fork. She ran over to the bottom of the steps and peered up into the dim stairwell.

"Mom? What was that? You okay?"

There was no answer. Her skin prickled, but she started up the stairs. Midways, she heard a faint sound. She paused, listening.

That sounded like a groan! Her heartbeat quickened.

Mom? She raced to the landing at the top.

She couldn’t determine a particular direction the crash or the groan came from, so she ran to her parents’ bedroom first because that’s where she thought she’d find her mother.

She wasn’t there. Everything seemed to be in place, nothing was broken.

Mom! Where are you? Maybe she was in the bathroom?

Silence. She began to feel panicky. Where was she? Why wasn’t she answering?

Then, there was another groan. It came from the direction of her room. As she hurried down the hall to the other side of the stairwell, she became aware of a strange, sweetish odor.

She reached her doorway and peered in. Her room reeked of the smell, and her mother was on the floor in front of the shattered window, which appeared to have been torn from its frame taking part of the wall with it. Her eyes looked dazed as she began to sit up.

Stunned, Lyssa stared at the hole where her window had been, then ran to her mother, kneeling beside her. A stream of blood trickled down the side of her face from a jagged cut high on her temple that started above her right eye and disappeared into her hairline.

Mom! Mom! What happened! Wha--

Suddenly, the sweetish odor became almost overpowering as a shadow from behind Lyssa fell over them.

Neecy’s eyes cleared and stretched wide as she stared past Lyssa, and she reached out and flung her daughter aside. She was on her feet in an instant, arms reaching for the pallid, vaguely humanoid figure that had glided silently from the tree outside the window and into the room. It lunged for Lyssa, but Neecy caught its arm before it could grab her.

From where she landed on her back when Neecy threw her, a shocked Lyssa heard a snap followed by a high-pitched, hoarse shriek. She quickly rolled onto her stomach, certain she’d find her mother killed and the thing coming for her. She was astonished to see she was wrong.

Neecy had broken the creature’s arm. Now she grappled with the figure and got her arms around its body and arms, pinning it in a fierce embrace, and began to squeeze. Her face contorted as she stared up into its pale eyes, and she snarled, her lips lifting over white teeth that appeared longer and sharper than usual.

From the floor, Lyssa watched in terror as her mother changed, becoming taller, bulkier, her color darkening until she was blue with thin, diagonal silver stripes. Her larger body ripped through her clothing and the… thing… she gripped gave another of its piercing, almost ultrasonic shrieks, trying to wrench loose. Lyssa heard more snapping sounds as Neecy held on, tightening her hold until the figure went limp, then she threw the thing to the floor. Her arm moved lightning-fast as she plunged her hand down into its chest - and ripped out what had to be its heart.

Lyssa screamed and scrambled backward along the floor toward the door as the being that had been her mother wiped the side of her face where blood still ran down - using the back of a hand with fingers that held wickedly curved claws - and turned her eyes toward her.

Stop! Look at me, Lyssa! she commanded, holding her eyes with a piercing stare.

Though she didn’t want to, Lyssa stopped, huddling against the wall, her heart slamming like a sledgehammer hitting a post. It was as though she were pinned in place by her mother’s gaze. The eyes hadn’t changed. They were the same steel-gray as ever. Her hair was a deep blue with silver streaks, but her voice hadn’t changed, either. Lyssa could recognize the creature as her mother even though there was a pair of short antennae protruding from her blue, silver-striped forehead.

Don’t be afraid, dear, she said, her tone softening as she blurred and reverted to normal. Wearily, she sank to the floor, the tattered remnants of her clothing fluttering around her. She wiped at her bloody face again but was careful to maintain eye contact with Lyssa. There’s been an accident, and you’re getting sleepy. You need to rest.

Her tone was very soothing, and Lyssa found herself nodding in agreement, current events beginning to slip away. Yes, she was sleepy. But dimly, though her mind felt chaotic and her thoughts were syrupy, she felt there was something she was supposed to do, somewhere she was supposed to go-- I have to get to school, I can’t take a nap…

Don’t worry about that, darling. Go to sleep. Forget. Her eyes seemed to expand and become a swirling gray mist, filling Lyssa’s whole world.

Lyssa nodded again as sleep began to settle over her confused mind. As she slid down into oblivion, the last thing she heard before everything faded out was the sound of the garage door going up.

Chapter Three

Freak Accident

The incident at the Brunner’s house that blew out the window and wall of their daughter’s bedroom, was so strange it was designated a freak accident. Not only did it make the noon and the six o’clock local reports, it even got a blurb on the national news.

The week following the mishap was weird for Lyssa. She kept trying to remember exactly what happened that morning. Her last clear recollection was one of starting to eat her breakfast at the kitchen table, and her mother saying she was going upstairs and would be back in a few minutes.

She couldn’t recall why she went back to her room, or why her mother was in there with her. She only remembered hearing an earsplitting noise and had a vague notion that her mother said something to her after the explosion. But she didn’t see how that was possible since they both were knocked unconscious. She did remember hearing the rumble of the garage door going up before she blacked totally out.

Her father said it wasn’t important why she’d gone upstairs, but it bothered her. She was uneasy, feeling as though there was something she was missing, something she needed to remember. She also had some disturbing dreams, though she could never clearly recollect them. Just some vague snippets about a blue giant and a hazy, pale figure.

When she came to in the hospital the morning of the accident, she was confused as to why she was there. Her father told her what happened and that her mother had sustained a head injury from flying debris. The wound was serious, according to the specialist that Dr. Tolbert, their family doctor, called in.

Lyssa’s heart had fluttered as she peered at her father. Is she awake? Can I see her?

Aaron, looking solemn, said, Not yet, dear. The specialist put her into a medically induced coma. He explained what that was.

Her eyes rounded. How long will she have to be in a coma?

Not long - no more than a few days, possibly a week, he assured her. The doctors know what there’re doing, honey, so don’t worry.

Dr. Tolbert had come in then, and said, Hello, Lyssa. I’ve run some tests on you - while you were out, dear, he said to her puzzled look, and you’re fine, just a few bumps and bruises. But, I’m going to keep you here for the rest of the day and overnight for observation, just as a precaution, you see. He smiled. You can leave tomorrow morning.

Her nod was uncertain. Okay, but why can’t I remember what happened?

That you have no memory of the accident isn’t unusual, Lyssa, he’d said, giving her a smile. You were knocked out, and that sometimes happens after such a shock - which is why I want to hold you here overnight. Don’t worry; it will likely come back to you. He gave her a pat on the back and left the room.

Lyssa had turned to her father. Will I be able to see mom before I leave tomorrow?

He shook his head. I don’t know, but the doctors know what they’re doing, Lyssa. He gave her a smile. Now wipe that worry from your face. I trust them; you should, too.

He was sitting with Lyssa and watching the room’s TV when he learned the accident was on the noon news. Knowing Neecy’s parents might’ve seen it, he’d hurriedly called them.

The blast wasn’t as bad as it sounds on the news. Lyssa is fine, and Neecy’s going to be. I’ll keep you updated. No, it’s not necessary for you to come. Here, let me put Lyssa on the phone, she wants to say hello.

Lyssa didn’t get to see her grandparents often since they lived in Michigan, quite a ways from her southeastern city in North Carolina, but she frequently spoke with them on the phone. This time, she couldn’t remember much of what they’d said, just that they were very reassuring.

Dr. Tolbert released her the next morning after telling her father to call him if she had any complaints and added, I want you to bring her in for a follow-up next week.

She felt fine. She was more worried about her mother than herself and didn’t think she needed to see the doctor again. However, she resigned herself because she knew her father would make her go anyway.

When she had asked about seeing her mother before they left the hospital, her father said, You can’t see her just yet, Lyssa. They’re still running tests. I’ll bring you back this evening, okay? He gave her a comforting hug, and a kiss on the forehead.

She nodded, but she was not happy about it. She didn’t want to leave the hospital without seeing her mother, but as long as she could come back that evening…

As to what had caused the accident, it appeared something fell from the sky, hit the willow tree outside her window, and bounced, slamming into the house. Lyssa watched the news report where the fire chief said it was a huge chunk of ice, maybe from a passing plane. He said that, though it was rare, especially since there were no storms in the immediate area at the time, it could’ve been some type of weather phenomenon since it was fairly cold that morning. They weren’t sure, but one of the firefighters found a big ball of melting ice in her room and more ice