Page 18 of Sour Lollipops and Sweet Nightmares (The Society #1)

Georgia

“ T hanks for nothing,” I growled into my phone before tossing it on my bed.

The police were just as useless as campus security. Both took me seriously until I mentioned the name Kratz. That was when the ‘explain what happened’ questions turned into inquiries about my scholarships and Mom’s debts as if I made the whole thing up for money.

Rachel tried to warn me. I should’ve listened to her. Mind you, the entire reason I spent the weekend in a constant state of paranoia was because of her. Maybe I was impressionable, but I couldn’t handle her Issac is evil talk.

There were people out there who casually went through life, completely calm, no matter what happened. Then there were people who overreacted to every situation. I was not the calm one in that comparison.

While I tried to look at things with a logical mind, sooner or later, my anxious thoughts would take over. I don’t know why I was that way. I just was. My imagination didn’t run wild, it ran rampant.

A simple walk to the store turned into a daunting expedition of what ifs. What if Mom tripped on the sidewalk and broke her nose? What if a serial killer was waiting in that alley? Or what if a car jumped the curb and came right at us?

Every possible worst-case scenario rolled through my mind, taunting me with the possible outcome.

My mind has always worked that way, even at a young age.

I remembered looking through the bars of my crib one night and wondering if the stuffie on my floor would break my fall or eat me.

According to Mom, I came into the world shaking and crying. So, maybe I was just born anxious?

Over the years, I learned how to quiet my random thoughts. Now they were mere whispers that occasionally popped up in the back of my mind. That was until I met Issac.

For the past five days, those whispers were loud, bellowing warnings of danger.

I spent the weekend teetering on the edge of paranoia.

I’d walk around a corner and immediately think he was there, or something would move, and my heart would try to jump out of my chest. Not spiraling into a full-blown panic attack every five minutes took all my willpower.

It would’ve been less tiring if Issac had shown up.

But he didn’t.

All week I’d been looking over my shoulder, expecting him to be lurking in the shadows, and guess what happened?

Nothing.

Nada.

Zip.

Which was why this morning I found myself thinking about a boyfriend Mom had when I was eleven.

He thought he could cure my anxiety by spouting off some ridiculous saying.

‘There was nothing to fear but fear itself.’ ‘Paranoia is another form of ignorance.’ And my favorite, ‘suck it up, buttercup.’ Needless to say, their relationship lasted only about 3. 2 seconds. He was an idiot.

I wrapped grandma’s old widow’s robe over my shoulders and headed to the kitchen to make some coffee.

It was the kind of fur-trimmed housecoat that women in soap operas answered the door in when their husband died under suspicious circumstances. Mom gave me a strange look, but I liked the way the silk felt on my skin. That and it reminded me of my grandma.

Hoot, hoot.

“Son of a bitch.” I jumped back, jerking the hand I was filling the coffee pot with, causing water to slosh on the counter.

I don’t know what was worse for my heart, Rachel or that damn owl.

Was my paranoia irrational? Absolutely. But that didn’t mean someone wasn’t after me. At least that’s what I told myself, especially when Rachel brought up Issac and his friends. She made it sound like they were actual monsters. Although, for some reason, she seems particularly afraid of Ravi.

If she didn’t have me constantly looking for a place to hide, I might’ve asked her about it. By the way, bushes were not as easy to dive into as one would think. I had scratches all over my left arm from that experience.

Rachel was a bad influence. The girl even had me questioning the existence of heaven and hell. Not once in my life had I considered praying. Because God wasn’t real, and this wasn’t a fairy tale where magic existed.

It was reality, where people sucked and life was hard. Yet last night, I almost got down on my knees. That was how crazy she made me. I was getting ready to ask a divine being who didn’t exist for help.

Me.

Georgia Pyne.

The same girl who refused to put her baby teeth under the pillow because fairies weren’t real. I threw them away like any sane person would do.

That moment was when I realized how much energy I was wasting, worrying about something that was never going to happen. Issac and his friends were no different than every other bully. They had their fun humiliating me and had moved on. Why else would they leave me alone for days?

Honestly, I was a little disappointed in myself for letting him get to me in the first place.

Yes, Rachel didn’t help, but she genuinely believed in her crazy theories and campus gossip.

According to her, Issac’s dad was our new dean.

A man with no educational background whatsoever was now in charge of one of the country’s top Ivy League schools. Come on. How realistic was that?

Rachel may not be able to see the flaws in that rumor, but I could. I knew better than to listen to it. Just as I knew that the only thing my fear did was give Issac power over me. And that was not okay. I was going to take my power back.

When I woke up this morning, I didn’t look over my shoulder or try to find a place to hide. I was bound and determined to get back to my normal routine. Issac Kratz and his friends weren’t worth the wasted effort.

The second that thought left my head, the world around me quieted down. There were no more ominous footsteps echoing behind me or heavy breathing from someone who wasn’t there. It was just me, the smell of my coffee, and birds singing outside.

I sucked in a deep breath of the fresh morning air wafting in through my open kitchen window.

This was how it should be. A serene start to my day, full of sunshine and the scent of crisp morning dew.

Sighing contentedly, I sat down at the kitchen table and went over my notes from yesterday’s classes.

As I pored over various seismic charts, I realized that I hadn’t checked my data in days. Last year, I used all the babysitting money I’d saved up to buy a seismograph, then Mom and I took a trip out to Mount St. Helens, where I buried it in the side of the mountain.

It wasn’t for anything serious—professionals were already watching the mountain, and they didn’t need me to keep an eye on it—but I thought it would be fun to collect my own data.

Lately, there had been some interesting activity, so much so that I’d gone from checking the charts weekly to twice a day.

With the exception of the past three days, which meant I had some recordings to look over.

There was one problem with that. When I opened my laptop to check the readings, I couldn’t find the notebook where I recorded all my data.

Where was it? I had it on Friday before I went for breakfast. Did I put it in my bag? I was running late. I remembered jotting down numbers before running out the door, so it was possible. But where was my bag? The last place I had that was…

Realization dawned on me in a gruffly rumbled, “Shit.”

I left it in the cafeteria. Goddamnit. Maybe it wasn’t that bad?

It wasn’t as if it were a designer bag. I highly doubted anyone here would want an old, crocheted bag.

There wasn’t anything worth much in there, except for maybe the tiger’s eye necklace Mom gave me, and that was only worth a couple of dollars. So, someone probably turned it in.

Or Issac has it.

“No,” I argued with my thoughts.

Why would Issac or his friends be interested in my bag? It was worth nothing. It had sentimental value for me, seeing as my grandma made it. But for them, it would be garbage, right?

I looked over at the feathered head staring at me through my living room window, with his big yellow eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. He doesn’t have it.”

The owl slowly tipped its head to the side as if say, Sure, because your luck is going to change now.

“Listen, Mr. Owl, the sun is out, so I’m not afraid of you.” I blew a lock of hair out of my face. “And I’m not afraid of Issac either.”

Just because he was an asshole who thought he could do whatever he wanted didn’t mean I was afraid of him. Given the reaction of both the cops and campus security to my claims, one could argue that he could, in fact, do what he wanted.

But that didn’t mean that I was scared. If—and that was a big if—Issac did have my bag, I would go and get it back. I could stand up for myself. And I had a new can of pepper spray.

I grimaced as the owl continued to tilt its head until its face was almost upside down. Why was it looking at me like that?

“Get out of my window, you creepy demon bird.”

“Hoot.”

“Ah,” I screeched at the sudden sound and threw my almost empty mug across the room.

I swear it laughed at me.

“That’s it.” I got up and stormed into my room to change.

Today was going to be a normal morning, damnit.

I was going to go on my run like I did every day.

And no creepy demon birds or possible bag-stealing assholes were going to ruin that.

I could deal with my missing bag later after I had a nice, normal routine-filled day of scheduled breaks and classes, which would hopefully remain Rachel-free.

She’d show up eventually. She always did. Don’t get me wrong, it was sweet that she wanted to look out for me, but every time I turned around, there she was.

The girl even followed me to my classes yesterday. Ever been to a geology lab with someone who didn’t know what slate was? Needless to say, that was not a productive class.