Dirty Secrets

Part 22

Lyla was prepared for a quick transaction. She had already picked out the model and color of the phone that she wanted and she was armed with her dad's account info and credit card. She and Darcy stood in line laughing at stupid jokes that no one else would think were funny, paid for the phone, and got out of there.

Leaving the store with her new phone in her back pocket and plastic bag in hand, Lyla's dry mouth was the first indication. She felt lightheaded with the onset of dizziness. It wasn't until the girls had made their way to the food court that Lyla's mental fog began settling over the mall ecosystem. By the time they found a table and ordered their food, the meds were recalibrating Lyla's operating system.

She was convinced that the pink and gray capsule was the culprit. Each morning when she awoke, she was clear-headed. But a few hours after ingesting her morning meds, she found it difficult to concentrate. It was like being encased in an amniotic sac, detached from the real world.

The stream of Saturday shoppers flowing past the food court looked like they were being projected onto a screen behind Darcy, as though Lyla was watching a super low-budget movie with janky special effects.

Darcy dug into her shrimp fried rice.

"That looks good," said Lyla doing her best to maintain some sense of normalcy.

"Why didn't you get some?"

"Plastic forks and spoons. That's a hard no for me."

Darcy's shrug indicated that she didn't understand the reference.

Lyla bit into her sandwich. As she chewed, she was once again reminded that her tastebud neurotransmitters weren't functioning.

Her friend grinned. "That guy at the phone store was so flirting with you."

"What guy?"

"What guy?" Darcy mocked her. "The cute guy."

Lyla examined her cheesesteak.

"You okay?"

"Fine. Yeah."

Darcy didn't buy it. "You wanna get outta here?"

"I'm fine."

"You might want to tell that to your face."

Lyla forced a smile, then took another bite of her sandwich. The intoxicating smell of onions, grilled steak, and cheese triggered her salivary glands but when she bit into her cheesesteak, she was disappointed. She was acutely aware of the textures of bread and greasy, grilled meat in her mouth. But where was the flavor?

Darcy pushed her fork around the mound of rice before asking, "So can you talk about it?"

"About what it's like in there?"

"No. I mean about what happened."

"With what?"

"I mean, how did it happen? You told me you were going to watch Jack play football. And maybe do something after, right?"

Lyla's heart pounded. She needed a sip of her soda to get the mouthful of food down her throat.

Darcy lowered her voice and leaned forward. "The next thing I know, I hear you're in the hospital."

Lyla placed her cheesesteak onto her plate, a gloomy expression on her face.

"I'm sorry," said Darcy. "If it's too soon..."

"I really don't remember much about that," Lyla answered haltingly.

She experienced a flash of vivid memory. She was standing outside the football field squinting against a raging wind. A peculiar little girl with a pale complexion appeared, materializing on the sidewalk a few feet away. With her large eyes, an impish nose, and a head full of strawberry ringlets, she resembled a life-size doll with an artificial polymer face.

"Your dad said that you fainted," Darcy whispered. "That maybe you had some kind of seizure?"

"He wants you to wear the ring," the little girl insisted, a devilish flame flickering in her round chestnut eyes. She clamped Lyla's wrist with a cold hand and held Keenan's silver serpent ring in the other.

Lyla jerked backward off her chair, knocking over her beverage in the process. She crashed to the hard floor on her back, the cheesesteak exploding upon impact nearby.

"Oh, my God!" Darcy gasped, helping her friend to her unsteady feet. "You okay?"

With wide eyes, Lyla scanned the onlookers for the little girl. A group of teens laughed uproariously. One kid heckled, "You dropped something."

Other shoppers continued past. Two middle-aged women approached. "Are you alright, hon?"

Lyla reached for her sandwich.

"Don't worry about that." The woman waved her hand. "Someone will take care of that. Why don't you sit down for a minute?"

"I gotta go," Lyla replied, near panic. The color had drained from her face, beads of perspiration formed at her hairline.

Darcy took her arm. "We're leaving," she said to the women. "Thanks."

Lyla broke free and paced rapidly toward the exit, her rubbery legs wobbling.

"Wait!" Darcy grabbed the plastic bag from the chair beside Lyla's. "You forgot your phone stuff." She jogged after her friend. "I'm so sorry," she said when she caught up to her.

"It's okay," Lyla mumbled. She couldn't feel her feet on the hard tile floor.

"No, it's not okay. That was super stupid. I shoulda never done that."

"You didn't do anything."

"I'm so sorry. I won't ask you any more questions. Promise."

Lyla continued walking, eyes forward, on a mission to reach the exit that seemed miles away.