CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

It's raining.

The rain drops hit my exposed skin with enough force to convince me I'm being stabbed over and over again wherever the water touches, and I break out into a run down the strangely familiar and empty street, as if trying to escape the icy touch of the rain.

A strong gust of wind blows and knocks me over, and I collide with the jagged concrete, immediately obtaining dozens of bleeding cuts that sting every time I take a breath. The road is freezing beneath my fingers as I push myself up and back onto my unstable feet, wobbling a few time before becoming reacquainted with the feeling of steady ground.

Just then, another gust of wind comes, threatening to push me over for the second time, but I clench my jaw and push against the wind, determined to remain upright. When it's passed, I start moving again, running my hands up and down my arms in an attempt to rid myself of the goose bumps covering every inch of my body.

I run for what must be hours until I spot a dark figure standing at the end of the road, watching me. My mind screams at me to stop running but my legs won't obey, pulling me mercilessly forward towards a fate I don't want to face. But as I get closer, the short dark hair transforms into longs blonde locks and the dull blue eyes change colour, turning brown. When I'm a metre away, I finally stop running and the persons ghostly pale face appears.

It's Sarah.

She lifts her arm, a small metal object held tightly in her hand.

"What are you doing?" I ask shakily, my eyes focused on the device.

"I'm taking back my life!" she shouts over the storm. And then she presses the object to my heart and I'm consumed by excruciating pain.

I wake up covered in sweat and breathing heavily, the last fragments of the dream already fading from my mind. My heart beats rapidly in my chest, as if traumatised by the happenings of my nightmare. A minute passes – a minute in which I focus on breathing deeply – until I shake the dream off and get out of bed, determined to face the day as if it hadn't started with fear and pain.

But the second I stop thinking about my dream, my mind is filled with Caden's voice, repeating the words he told me yesterday: he's your uncle, he's your uncle. Patrick is my uncle – my mother's brother, Rand's friend.

I still can't wrap my head around how it could be possible – how he could be related to me and yet still set on ensuring I don't continue breathing. Don't family members usually stick together? It takes me yet another minute to throw the thoughts circling inside of my head into a bin where I can forget they exist and get through my day without any unnecessary disturbances.

Downstairs, my dad sits at the table, staring at his untouched cup of coffee.

"You alright?" I ask.

He looks up, dazed. "Yeah, just tired."

I just nod even though I know that there's a whole lot more going on inside of him that he's not willing to show. Sometimes it's better just to leave people with their thoughts.

I prepare a quick breakfast, shovelling it down my throat, and do everything else required to leave for school, in record time.

"I'll see you later, dad," I say from the front door.

There's no response and I don't bother waiting for one.

-:-:-:-:-

Sarah is waiting for me at the front gates when I arrive at school. When she sees me, she smiles and we enter the school together.

"So you go to school here now," I say, but I'm looking for an answer.

"Yeah, my mum enrolled me here yesterday."

My stomach clenches at the word mum, but I just smile. "That's convenient."

She smiles too. "Can I see your timetable? I want to see if we share any classes."

I pull the slip of paper out of my bag and hand it over for her to compare with her own. I watch her smile slowly drop as she scans to the two pieces of paper.

"Nup, nothing," she says a few minutes later, sounding disappointed.

"Oh well," I say. "At least we'll see each other at recess and lunch."

Silence descends for a short while until she stops walking. "Well my locker is this way," she says, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder. "I suppose I'll see you later?"

I smile lightly. "Yeah, sure."

"Bye," she says before turning around and walking off. I breathe a sigh and continue on my way.  

-:-:-:-:-

Lauren is the first person I spot when arriving at the lawn for recess. She smiles and waves me over, and reluctantly, I walk towards her and her group.

"Hey," she says as I sit down, already feeling uncomfortable. The only positive in the situation is the fact that her friends don't look nearly as bothered by my presence as they did yesterday.

"Hey," I reply half-heartedly, my eyes searching the crowds of people around us for Sarah.

"Are you okay? You disappeared halfway through lunch yesterday and now you look really lost."

"I'm fine – just looking for someone."

"For that girl who showed up yesterday?" Shaun asks the second I finish speaking.

"Um, yeah," I say.

"I've seen her. She's in my English," he states. I have nothing to say to that, so I just give a small nod. "She's really nice."

After a couple seconds hesitation, I nod again, slowly.

"What's her name?" one of the girls – Kirsten I think – asks.

"Sarah," Shaun replies.

"There she is!" Piper says, and I turn around, following her gaze. Sarah spots me almost instantly and, after a quick look at Lauren, I gesture for her to come over. After all, what harm can come from her sitting with us? Shaun did say that she was nice.

Next to me, Emma moves back a bit and I do the same, clearing a space for Sarah to sit down.

"You're Sarah, aren't you?" Kira says opposite us.

"Yeah," Sarah replies.

"I'm Kira." She smiles. "And this is Jake, Shaun, Kirsten, Lauren, Emma, Evan and Piper," she says, gesturing to each in turn. Each one offers a form of greeting and smiles.

Something in me sinks as I witness the kindness shown by the group that just yesterday welcomed me coldly. They barely know Sarah and yet already they've been nicer to her than they've been to me, who they've known for nearly six months. I've never been mean to any of them, and still, they hate me. And the proof of that hate is right in front of my eyes – it rests before me, cruelly declaring its presence without even trying to be discreet.

I look down at my food as Sarah speaks with those around me. And then it occurs to me that maybe I'm jealous – jealous of the fresh start Sarah has and of the way everyone treats her. Their view of the real Sarah isn't clouded with automatic hate like their view of me is because no one knows about her disease – no one has seen her in the media or been warned about her by the newspapers.

A dozen questions appear in my mind then. How come the world knows about my disease but no one knows about hers? Surely she's left a trail of winters in her wake or had heat attacks in public? You can't hide things like that. Can you?

Suddenly, I feel like I don't know this new Sarah as well as I thought I did. What has she been through in the time between when I last saw her and now? Has she made friends? Lived a normal life? Or has she been hiding away, not daring to show her face until now? She said she was searching for me, but how hard was she looking? Everyone in the world seems to know about me and my current address. Didn't she ever think to look me up on the internet?

And what about her mum – my mum? Didn't she ever, for one second, when Sarah was younger, consider looking for her real daughter? I have no doubt that she's known that Sarah and I would die eventually if we weren't swapped back, so why didn't she try to find me sooner? Why didn't Sarah try to find me sooner?

The bell goes and I get up and leave quickly, without saying a word to Sarah. She hasn't spoken with me at all so why should I say something to her?

As I walk to my third class of the day, I think about how strange it is that my feelings towards someone can change so drastically in such a short period of time. Just this morning, I probably would have considered Sarah to be my best friend, but now I'm not sure we could even be considered acquaintances.

I spend science and health dreading the arrival of lunch time, knowing that I'll have to sit near Sarah and Lauren's group and pretend that things haven't changed. I can't exactly question Sarah about everything that's happened since we last saw each other in front of everyone and I can't act coldly towards her without providing a reason. So that leaves me with a single option – get on with life as normal.

When lunch does arrive, I smile at Sarah as I sit down to eat, but I don't say anything. Lauren greets me and I return the favour before we launch into a conversation that I'm only half involved in, the other half of me counting down the seconds until lunch is over and I don't have to act so cheerful.

Thankfully, lunch does pass fairly quickly, and before I know it the end of school bell has rung and I'm walking down the hallways, contending with all the other students desperate to get home.

Caden meets me at the same tree I stood under yesterday with Sarah and it's not long before she shows up too. Yesterday afternoon, we all agreed that we'd go back to Rand's place after school today to discuss what needs to be done and whether we should confront Patrick about his betrayal when the council meets on Saturday. But now I have other plans – plans to find out who Sarah really is.

The silence between the three of us as we walk isn't companionable like it was yesterday. Instead, I can feel the tension lining the gaps between our words, the awkwardness behind each unsurely spoken sentence and, underneath it all, the itching fear that has us on alert for dark unidentifiable figures waiting for us at the ends of roads.

Just thinking about the man who stood watching us yesterday pulls me back to this morning's dream. Was it hinting that Sarah isn't who I think she is? That she shouldn't be trusted?

For the hundredth time today, I find myself pushing unwanted thoughts out of my head in order to give myself space to breathe, and that worries me. Is this what my life is going to be like now? A constant battle within myself to enjoy the good, forget the bad and to push through the worst? Will I ever be able to live a normal life?

For the first time, I admit to myself that I'm scared – not just of the now and the later, but of the after. What if things don't turn out the way I want them to? What if the life I lead when all this is done doesn't make me happy?

What if I miss this life? What then?