The Triangle (Episode 1: Origins)

Chapter 1

I always knew I was special. My parents told me so. My teachers told me. There was even a song on Barney that told me. Now, I was well past the age of taking Barney as gospel truth and feeling special is far different than being told you were. As I hovered two inches above my hardwood, bedroom floor, my feelings were beginning to change.

My cellphone rang and just like that, it was over. I rolled over from the fall, groaning. I leveraged the foot of my bed to pull my spindly form upright. Was it real? Was I in some sort of lucid dream? The doubts of what I experienced were forefront. I always tried to stay logical.

Conspiracy theories? Pass.

Bigfoot? Pass.

Blair Witch? Yeah, pass.

The jingle for Star Trek: Deep Space Nine entered its second loop and I stood (I know most people hated that show, but screw them. There were some real gem episodes in there). I grabbed the phone from my nightstand and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Isaac, where are you, my band's about to play in thirty minutes... you gonna flake on me again, dude?"

It was Cassie. My best friend. She was the only person who really got me. The only person who was awesome to hang out with, listening to good music and watching some Battlestar Galactica. I know you're thinking: "Whoa... I thought she was a dude." Yeah, the friend zone sucks.

"Isaac?"

"What? No. Yeah, I'll be there in a minute," And I meant it. I lived right down the street from The Hangnail — Boston, Massachusetts's premier venue for every band no one wants to see.

"Good," she said after a bout of noise characteristic of a band starting to play. "No, put it over in that corner! Listen, I gotta go. Hurry up!"

"Yeah, see ya."

"Bye."

I loved her voice. Both in song and in person. Her band had just tracked their first six song demo and it was really good. She tried to explain how the studio magic happened, but honestly I didn't care. A good song is a good song no matter how many takes it took her to get the words "gravity take me" right.

I pulled on my gray jeans and slipped on her band's t-shirt. I took a little too much time rearranging my hair in the mirror than I'd like to admit, but we're talking about Cassie. I don't wanna look like I just fell from the sky.

I turned around to look back at the spot where I thought it had happened. Could I make it happen again? Doubtful. I haven't mastered lucid dreaming, so I didn't think I could force myself to have the dream again.

I skipped most of the stairs that led down to the kitchen. Dad wasn't home. It's not like he never was (I'm sure you thought I was gonna go there), but when he wasn't I felt like I was king of the house. I even re-enacted Tom Cruise's Risky Business scene to the soundtrack of Cassie's new CD when he was gone the day before. I wouldn't tell anyone else this — especially not Cassie — but I trust you don't know her.

A short bike ride and a touch-and-go stop sign blow off later, I wheeled up and secured my bike upright to a light pole with three other bikes. The Hangnail rattled as the sound of high gain guitars and bass kicked in. Jesse, the jock-of-jocks, skidded in behind, moody as hell.

"Damnit, Isaac," he blurted and threw his beat up ten-speed to the curb.

He glared at me. His blue eyes narrowed, and that dumb vein threatened to burst in his forehead. The kid needed help. It wasn't my fault I beat him to the pole. Besides, there were plenty of other places to secure his bike.