Shine: Season One (Shine Season Book 1) Page 5

  8

  Aura did not feel optimistic about the potential therapeutic benefits of hypnotherapy when she entered Dr. Hope’s office. She hadn’t slept well, there was no coffee at breakfast because it was supposedly addictive, and it was way too early for her to be thinking straight.

  And the outer reception area for Dr. Hope’s office was completely pink. Pink paint, pink drapes, even pink unicorns on the cabinets. With the faintest trace of cotton candy in the air.

  Clearly this was going to be a total clownfest.

  And then there was Dr. Hope herself.

  “Good afternoon, Aura. I’m so happy to meet you. I hope we’re going to be friends.”

  She hated Hope instantly. The good doctor was way too attractive. Come to think of it, everyone here at TYL was attractive. Was that a rule? She judged Hope spent about forty-five minutes in the morning putting on her face, complete with makeup, blow-dried hair and false eyelashes. Her clothes fit snugly, showing off her uber-curvy figure. Her almost preposterously full breasts strained against the sheer fabric of a scoop-necked blouse that would draw a eunuch’s attention to her assets.

  She blew the bangs out of her face. This doctor chose to practice at an institution where all the patients were young women? You had to wonder.

  “Happy to meet you,” she mumbled, shaking the doctor’s hand, doing her best not to stare at the tremendous jiggling.

  “I think you’re going to love hypnotherapy, Aura. Have you ever tried it before?”

  “Um, no.”

  “You’re a prime candidate for success. Did you know that?”

  “They didn’t mention it in my initial briefing.”

  “Well, it’s true. Do you know why?”

  “My dazzling blue eyes?”

  “No. Your dazzling IQ. All the girls here are special in one way or another. But according to our records, you’re the smartest girl we have in residence.”

  “How would they know that?”

  “They have their ways. No one comes here without extensive screening. We have to determine whether a Shine is a viable candidate for rehabilitation, or whether they should just proceed to…the other place.”

  Glad I studied for my SAT.

  “Come into my office.” Hope opened the door. The inner office was painted a somewhat more subdued lime green. The only furniture was a computer desk and chair, obviously Hope’s workstation, and a much larger padded chair tilted at an almost horizontal angle, not unlike a dentist’s chair. She had an unsettling suspicion the chair was for her. She hoped she wouldn’t be asked to rinse and spit.

  “Please be seated.”

  As she hoisted herself into the chair, she noticed strange mechanical equipment hung from the ceiling. She didn’t have any idea what it did.

  “Hypnotherapy is simply a mild form of hypnosis,” Hope explained, “but it can have profound therapeutic benefits many people have found useful for harnessing their demons, be they addictions or asocial tendencies or Shine. The idea is to release the conscious mind and tap into the subconscious. To dig deep inside and see what may be troubling you. And ultimately, to visualize a more positive image of yourself that can become your inner strength. Your totem. Your guiding light. Does that sound good?”

  “I’ve always wanted a totem. Does it come with its own pole?”

  “Let’s not be dismissive before the therapy begins, shall we?”

  “Sorry. What do I do?”

  “Just settle into the chair.”

  She fell back against the padded head cushions, adjusting herself till she was semi-comfortable. She lowered her arms onto the padded armrests. A second after she did, she felt a backward pull on her arms and the back of her neck.

  “What’s happening?” She tried to squirm but found she couldn’t move. Something pinned her to the chair. She felt as if she’d been cuffed, but if so, the cuffs were invisible.

  “Just relax, sweetie. Nothing to worry about. This is to help you relax.”

  “There’s nothing relaxing about being pinned down like a bug.”

  “It keeps you from slipping out of the chair.”

  “But—”

  “Now I want you to pick a spot on the ceiling and concentrate on it, okay? Find a speck you like, or a corner, and let that be the focus of your attention.”

  She decided to play along. Since she was harnessed here anyway. “Okay, got my corner.”

  “Let your eyes go into deep focus. Relax. Let your mind drift into a more suggestible state.”

  “I can try, but—”

  “Pick a place you find relaxing. The beach. The mountains. The forest.”

  “Bainbridge Island,” she murmured.

  “Excellent choice. You’re surrounded by green. Maybe you’re hiking. Do you like hiking?”

  “Love it.”

  “So you’re out hiking, and you come to the foot of a tall staircase that ascends into the heavens. You’re not sure you can climb that high. But you decide you’re going to try, just the same.”

  “In for a penny…”

  “That’s the spirit. You start up the stairs. You walk and you walk and the walk seems to take forever. You tire, but you continue to climb. You want to know what’s at the top of the stairs. So you push on, even past the point where you don’t think you can climb any further.” She paused. “Finally, you reach the top. Do you know what you see?”

  “A giant with bags of gold and a singing harp?”

  “No. You find yourself, Aura.”

  “But—how can I be in two places—”

  “Shh. You see yourself, but at the top of the stairs, you see yourself as you always wanted to be. Tall. Strong. A good daughter. A good friend. A woman in complete control of herself. A woman who doesn’t need to resort to illegal or self-destructive activities to be popular or powerful. A girl who doesn’t even remember that she can do those things. Because she doesn’t need it, doesn’t want it. A girl whole unto herself.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you see it? Do you see the new Aura?”

  “I—I do.”

  “I want you to focus on that image. Let it imprint itself on your brain so you can carry it around with you in your subconscious, long after this session is over.”

  “I can do that.”

  “And now I want you to relax your mind completely. Let consciousness drift away. Close your eyes. Fly down the stairs, back into the island forest, back into complete rest and oblivion.”

  “I—I—I…”

  She never finished the sentence.

  ***

  “Open your eyes.”

  Aura sat bolt upright. She looked both ways at once.

  Apparently she was no longer pinned to the chair.

  What happened? Last thing she remembered, she was flying down some endless staircase. But her eyes were sticky and she felt tired and her arms ached.

  “Your session is over, sweetie.”

  She glanced at Hope’s computer screen.

  The fifty-minute hour was over.

  Time sure flies when you’re…something.

  “What did you do to me? Where did the time go?”

  “That’s the magic of hypnotherapy. As I predicted, you’re an extremely gifted subject.”

  “Answer my question. What did you do to me while I was asleep?’

  “Honey, I didn’t do anything to you, and you were never asleep. You were wide-awake and conscious. You entered a hypnotic state. That’s why you don’t recall the passage of time. Have you ever been so absorbed in a task or activity that time just seemed to disappear? Maybe you were writing a paper or reading a book, and then you looked up at the clock, astonished at how much time had passed?”

  “Well, sure.”

  “That’s what we call flow. You entered a flow state. Except your task wasn’t writing a paper—it was repairing your psyche. I bet you’ll detect the aftereffects almost immediately. You’ve had a lot to deal with lately. You’ve been carrying too much pain. But I think yo
u’ll find this session, and our later sessions, will help. You’ll feel better, sleep better, and have a more positive attitude about life.”

  “We can hope.” She put a smile on her face, but there was still something disquieting about the whole situation. She didn’t care how well Little Miss Cleavage spun her psychobabble. She didn’t like it.

  She heard a knock on the door. It opened a crack.

  A man stood on the other side. She didn’t know his name, but she’d seen him earlier with Dr. Coutant. “Sorry to intrude.”

  “No worries,” Hope replied. “We’re finished. Is there a problem?”

  “Very much so. I’m afraid we’ve had a…development.”

  “Regarding…?”

  “There’s a staff meeting at five. Mandatory attendance.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  He closed the door behind him.

  “Aura, let me say again what a pleasure it’s been working with you. I look forward to our next session.”

  She nodded, jumped out of the chair, and left the room. Still thinking.

  An emergency staff meeting at five. She wondered if that related to Perfume’s disappearance.

  She ducked into the ladies room. On the way out, she caught her reflection in the mirror.

  She noticed a redness, a slight abrasion on her left temple. No, it was on both temples. And she found a tiny bruise on her right arm, too.

  Something happened to her in there, and it wasn’t just hypnotherapy.

  What did Hope do to her?

  What was really going on at TYL? What happened to Perfume? What was up with Coutant’s control-freak dominatrix routine? And why were Shines being incarcerated in a so-called rehab in the most remote location imaginable?

  She didn’t have a clue.

  But she was determined to find out.

  9

  Aura could not believe it. She didn’t think it was possible. How could this happen?

  She’d spent four months in detention, being interrogated over and over again, till she’d finally gotten transferred to TYL. They were supposed to be mindraking her, not forcing her to dress up in electric-orange short-shorts and jump around on an excessively lacquered floor.

  It seemed that no matter how far she traveled, there were some things she could never escape.

  And one of them was gym class.

  “All right then,” Coach Prater said, piping a whistle between her teeth. “Let’s go over the rules one more time for the sake of the new girl. The object is to avoid contact with the round projectile. Don’t be fooled. It may be a hologram, but if it hits you, it will trigger receptors in your uniform and you’ll feel like you’ve been hit by the real thing. Hard. This whole playing field is holographic, but if you run into a wall, it’s gonna sting. So don’t be stupid. And don’t make yourself a target. Keep moving at all times. Last team standing wins. Remember—physical health is essential to mental health. Having a fit body is the first step toward a fit mind. So don’t hang back. Give it all you’ve got. And remember, there’s no ‘I’ in team.”

  But there is “me,” if you spell it backwards…

  “Aura, do you understand the rules?”

  She nodded. What was there to understand? It’s high-tech dodgeball. The bane of gym class since time immemorial.

  The Coach blew on her whistle. “Go.”

  The virtual orange ball appeared in the middle of the field. She’d been teamed with Tank and Harriet, who stared off into space as usual. Sure, she’d be lots of help. The other side had Dream and Twinge and Gearhead. Mnemo somehow got excused. She sat in the bleachers reading.

  She assumed Tank was paired with the players the coach perceived as weakest in an effort to create some semblance of balance.

  The ball bounced toward Harriet. She recoiled as if it were a cobra. Tank grabbed it and hurled it toward Twinge, who managed to duck in time.

  The virtual ball bounced back and forth. She had some near misses, but no one made contact. She found her pulse accelerating. How badly would that thing sting if—more like, when—it hit her? Which was only a matter of time, given her general ineptness when it came to team sports. Maybe that was a function of her PTSD—and what Mark had called her “bad attitude.” Which was ridiculous.

  Just as ridiculous as the fact that she couldn’t get that man out of her thoughts.

  Everyone here kept saying they wanted to help her. But he was the only one who made her believe it.

  The virtual ball whizzed past her, missing by inches. Time to get her head in the game.

  She knew the ball would hit her eventually. Maybe she should just get it over with. Take charge of her destiny, in a suicidal way.

  Then again, her teammates might get mad if they thought she threw the game. So she plastered an expression of fear on her face. Oh no, I’m so scared of the big orange not-really-a-ball that I can’t move!

  The ball loomed larger in her line of sight. Impact rapidly approaching. Three…two…

  At the last possible moment, Tank leaped into the fray, grabbing the ball, saving her and holding onto it. Tank landed on her shoulder and rolled three times, then sprang back to her feet. She whipped the ball back at the speed of light.

  Behold the Amazon of Dodgeball. The other Shines weren’t going to put Tank down. She doubted if a hundred Shines could put Tank down.

  “Thanks,” she murmured.

  Tank grunted a reply.

  “Let’s see you catch one on your own, sister,” Twinge taunted from the other side. “If you think you’re up to it.”

  “Nah. She needs the big bad Tank to protect her,” Dream added in a baby-girl voice.

  If they thought that would provoke her into doing something stupid, they really did not know her very well. She’d put up with a lot worse than this. And survived.

  The game continued. Harriet got tagged out. Even the Amazon couldn’t protect someone that physically inept. Her departure left the team at a significant disadvantage. Still, she figured Tank could handle it.

  Until Tank slipped. Butt first, smack on the varnished hardwood. Like a ghost knocked her legs out from under her.

  Tank was strong as titanium, but possibly not the most coordinated person on the planet. The Amazon picked herself back up before anyone nailed her, but favored her left leg. Twisted ankle, maybe worse.

  The one-minute signal bleeped. Two more virtual balls appeared in the air. Final showdown.

  She tried to get one but she wasn’t fast enough. Now each member of the opposite team had a ball. They all converged on Tank. Tank fell back, one hand pressed against the wall, standing on her good foot. Even the mighty Amazon couldn’t dodge three balls at once. Especially when she had a nonfunctional ankle.

  Damn. She owed that girl a proper.

  She could fix this. But that might get her in trouble.

  If they found out.

  She made a point of not letting it show. She didn’t furrow her brow. She didn’t stare. She didn’t extend her hand in a dramatic gesture.

  She just did it.

  Focus. Concentrate. Envision the muscles contracting, the swelling subsiding. Everything resuming its natural configuration.

  This was minor surgery. It shouldn’t take long. She felt the tendons tightening, snapping back into place.

  So did Tank. She put down her other foot and sprang into action.

  All three balls fired at once. Tank jumped up, executing an aerial pirouette. One ball went to the left, the other to the right. She caught the first one, bounced it off Dream’s unsuspecting shoulder, then caught the other, hurling it into Gearhead’s gut. Gearhead went down hard.

  But her weight brought her down a fraction of an instant too soon. Twinge threw low and nicked her in left foot.

  Tank hit the ground with a floor-shuddering impact. Twinge jumped up and down, clapping her hands.

  “I did it! I took out Tank! I win! I win!”

  And then the ball bounced off Twinge’s head.

 
“Not quite,” Aura said, brushing matted blue bangs out of her face. “I do.”

  10

  Aura felt completely lost, and not just in the metaphorical sense. The TYL complex was deceptively large and labyrinthine, decked out with Buddhas and mosaics and fish tanks but no directional signs. Somewhere between the twelve-step meeting and neurotherapy she’d gone completely wrong. Instead of a Big Book, they should give everyone a Big Map.

  Maybe she was still too jazzed from gym class to concentrate. She couldn’t believe she’d won. That victory buzzed through her brain for more reasons than the mere thrill of victory.

  She’d Shined, and no one knew it. And more importantly—

  She’d Shined. And it didn’t bring the gymnasium down in a pile of rubble.

  She wandered around outside the main building for a long time. Wasn’t the cafeteria somewhere nearby? Meals were her favorite part of the day. Fresh fruit and fish, no red meat. The Snickers bars were hidden in the closet, but she’d found them. They called to her.

  Being lost didn’t much bother her. If she were ever going to figure out what was really going on here, she would have to be curious. Maybe even nosy.

  By the time she reached the stables, though, she wondered if she had gone too far. The place appeared completely deserted. She remembered being told that the equine therapy sessions had been discontinued. Something about a recent accident.

  She turned back the way she came, hoping to figure out where she’d gone wrong. Somewhere in the background she heard movement, a rustling of bushes, not too far away.

  She stopped, listening carefully. Maybe she could follow someone back to wherever she was supposed to be.

  A girl emerged from behind the stable. Because of the trees and bramble, it was difficult to identify her.

  Until she came closer.

  Perfume. But something was wrong. Her face was pale and bruised and her eyes were completely bloodshot. She looked exhausted.

  “Help me,” Perfume said, her voice faint, barely a whisper. “Please help me.” Perfume stopped a few steps away, then seemed to crumble in place.