A few days passed, and Jordan forgot about the thing breathing in his room. He didn’t hear anything else, and it fell to the back of his memory.
Until Friday morning, right before his alarm sounded, Jordan woke to a strange sensation. Warm air fluttered over his face and a rotten stench stung his nostrils. Jordan’s eyes flew open, and he waved a hand in front of his face. In the darkness of the room, he couldn’t see anything, but the space in front of him felt like he was dragging his hand through water.
Heart racing, Jordan slid sideways and rolled off his bed to hurry across the room to the light switch. But after the bulb flickered to life, there was nothing to see. Jordan bent to look under the bed and opened his closet, but found nothing. He took a deep breath and sat on the edge of his bed.
“What the hell…” He’d distinctly had the impression there was someone breathing on his face. But how would that be possible? They’d have to be floating above his bed, right?
The alarm on his phone blared to life, and he jumped, falling sideways off the bed to silence it. There would be no snoozing for five minutes today.
Jordan went through the motions of getting ready for school, his mind elsewhere. He trudged down the stairs to find something to grab for breakfast.
“You’re up early!” His mom said, crossing through the kitchen with a basket of towels. “Can you bring the recycling bin up to the garage before you catch the bus?”
Jordan sighed, picked up an apple from the fruit basket. “Not today, mom.” He walked away and out the back door before she could respond, but not before he saw her mouth hanging open at his answer.
Once outside, he shook his head. Why had he said that? He had plenty of time to do what she asked. He hurried to the sidewalk and grabbed the recycling bin to bring it back to the house. Then still had time to walk back to the bus stop before it came into sight a few houses down.
Jordan climbed the steps onto the bus with his head down and slid into his normal seat. Today, he wasn’t even shocked when the cushion beside him compressed with the weight of someone he couldn’t see.
At school, Jordan couldn’t shake the feeling of being followed or watched. When he arrived in the cafeteria for lunch, he felt like he’d been looking over his shoulder so frequently he’d given himself whiplash.
Philip, Jordan’s best friend, slid into the seat across from him with his lunchbox.
“What’s up, man? You look a little pale.”
Jordan shrugged. “I didn’t sleep well, I think.” He looked over his shoulder again.
“What are you looking for?”
Jordan shrugged again. “I dunno. I keep feeling like… someone’s standing over me. It’s weird.”
Philip stared at the space over Jordan’s shoulder and frowned. “That is weird.” He unpacked his lunch and changed the subject. “Did you study for the science test?”
Jordan stopped moving mid-bite and wracked his brain. Some part of him registered the question and thought back to the night before. But there was something missing in his memory. He almost couldn’t even remember the topic of the science test. And then, like a slow drip of honey, the information reappeared in his mind. He saw himself at his desk, his textbook open and a notebook filled with his awful handwriting.
“Dude? You good?”
Jordan still hadn’t moved as he thought about studying. He quickly finished chewing and nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. I was trying to remember.”
“You were trying to remember if you studied?” Philip’s expression turned skeptical and more than a little concerned.
“No, of course not. I was trying to remember, um,” Jordan took another bite to stall and figure out why it was so hard to answer this question. “I was trying to remember how much studying I got done. That’s all. Sorry, I’m tired.” He added the lame excuse and cast his eyes down. What was going on with him?