The Catcher's Dreams (FEATURED)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - shines

Cassandra hadn't stopped crying.

Shards of her glow were everywhere – on the staircase, at the doorstep, and in Drake's reflection when he stared into the mirror.

It was a strangely rhythmic species of sobbing, two inhales and one long exhale, over and over. Drake would think it was dying away and then it would crescendo greatly in a series of wetness and rain. These strange bursts made it impossible to sleep. There were also a few shards of her glow in his room, shards he'd tracked in on dirty shoes. At night these shards glowed a dusky lilac, and Drake's imagination became fond of turning them into monster eyeballs or alien lights and scaring him.

The clock read ten fifteen. He'd normally be asleep by now. Cassie should've been asleep by now, but she was still sobbing, and as Drake listened, another one of her horrible crescendos stabbed his ears.

He slipped out of bed, tiptoeing barefooted to the door and down the stairs to the living room. Earplugs? There was probably a set somewhere. But it wasn't just the noise that bothered him, but the shattered pieces of glow lying around.

The lights turned on like reluctant fireflies, illuminating the hall. No Ayis were in sight. Drake stood alone, bare feet shivering on the wooden boards.

(The living room: two chairs, one piano, and five dusty sets of footprints where the Ayis stood to welcome him every afternoon.)

There were more smatterings of glow here than anywhere else, some forming as satiny threads drifting through the air like the pieces of Chauffeur's glow in the car, others translucent glasslike fragments that looked hard but disappeared once Drake stepped into them.

"I should get the Ayis to clean them up," he muttered to the air. It reminded him that they had no way of seeing the pieces.

"Fine, I'll do it myself." The air nodded.

He stepped on as many pieces as possible, making them disappear. Then he caught the drifting specks on his tongue. They were hot, like ash from a volcano, and they brought with them images of a distorted kitten in his mind – Grey under a chair, Grey leaping down the stairs, Grey purring, and Grey running away. Each image twisted in strange ways; the kitten melting like wax in one, leaping at Drake with demonic red eyes in another.

Crying was his background music.

Soon most of them were cleaned up, save for a few pieces atop the piano. The sobs crescendoed.

As Drake wiped the keys, he struck a note. A merry C sharp.

It bounced through the air.

It kissed the crying, and the latter momentarily stopped.

#

"Hey, Hirsch."

Drake looked over at the sound of his correct last name and a dancing maroon aura waved. "Hey, Sagan."

"You okay? You look really worn out." Cody settled into the chair next to Drake's. Above the pistachio aroma of his wine-like glow, there was a wavering exclamation of conditioner. It twirled and twirled into cotton-soft curls.

"Tired," Drake said, stifling a yawn. Yawns could sometimes accidentally suck in glows. "Didn't get a lot of sleep last night."