Echoes Marissa Lete (best ereader for students .TXT) 📖

Why me? Who would be following me? If they were going to hurt me, wouldn’t they have done it? But all they did was follow, then drive off. Maybe they were going to spy on me? But how would they know it was me? They aggressively pulled out behind me earlier, so did they know my car? If so, would they find out where I actually live eventually? What would happen when they did?

I think that maybe I should tell my parents. I’ve always tried my best to be honest with them. But it took them years to believe me about the echoes, would they really believe that someone in a black Suburban was trying to follow me home? And do I really want to worry them about something that might just be nothing at all?

I decide not to. Maybe the person following me thought I was someone else and will realize it soon. Plus, what real evidence do I have? I didn’t get a license plate number or even a description of a person. Even if the police got involved, it would be impossible for them to do anything about it.

So instead, I calm myself down, take a long hot shower, and go to bed.

Chapter 4

The next morning, an alarm is going off in my room that is not from today. I check the clock, and it’s only six o’clock, an hour earlier than I normally get up for school. I reach for my phone as if to turn it off but realize there’s nothing I can do. I groan, pulling a pillow over my head and cursing my past self. Today last year must have been my first day at the new school, so of course I would have gotten up extra early.

By the time my past self turns off the alarm, I am wide awake, so I decide to get up and make myself breakfast.

Halfway through cooking some eggs, I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. It’s noise from last year, so probably just my own echo coming down to eat before school, too. I remember leaving extra early that morning to allow time to find my classes.

As I’m sitting there, munching on a piece of toast, my phone starts ringing.

“I’m panicking. My homework is missing. That Chemistry assignment we spent an hour on last night. I can’t find it. Do you have it?” Grace starts talking the second I answer the phone.

It takes me a minute to remember what she’s talking about. “I think it might be in my backpack, probably got mixed in with all the papers,” I tell her.

“You think you have it, or you do have it? I need confirmation because otherwise I’m screwed,” she says.

“Let me check. It’s in my car.”

“I’m staying on the line until you confirm,” she tells me, and I laugh.

“Maybe if you kept better track of things, you wouldn’t have to deal with situations like this,” I tease, standing up from the table and reaching for my keys on the key rack.

“I don’t need a Laura lecture right now. I need my homework,” she replies, serious.

“Okay, chill. Give me one second.” I walk to the front door, and just before I touch the handle I hear the sound of it opening up from last year. Twenty minutes early, just as I remembered.

However, something I don’t remember happens just as I’m about to open my car’s door. A voice calls from across the street.

“Hey! Laura, right?” It’s an echo of the same boy I heard two nights ago, coming from the direction of the abandoned house across the street. His voice is unmistakable. I look over as if to see someone there, but the street is empty. I freeze, one hand on the car door handle, the other hand with the phone in it dropping to my side.

“Yeah! Mark?” My past voice calls back from the driveway. Maverick, I correct myself now, though I still don’t remember any of this. I turn around to face the abandoned house, feeling a strong urge to hide as if I was eavesdropping on a stranger’s conversation. But it’s just me, alone.

Footsteps tap across the street, towards where I stand now. “Close. Maverick,” he replies with a laugh, probably a few yards away.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I can hear the embarrassment in my voice.

“No worries. First day of school?” he asks.

“Yeah, it is,” my echo replies. I find myself at a loss. You’d think I would remember somebody after meeting them twice.

“Don’t stress, St. Martin isn’t a bad school. Just don’t eat the lasagna and you’ll live.”

My echo laughs. “Thanks for the tip, I’ll avoid it.”

“Is that your schedule?” Maverick’s echo asks.

“Oh! Yeah, do you want to see?” I reply. Two sets of footsteps walk towards each other. A paper shuffles between hands.

“Hmm.” Maverick’s voice is deep but soft. “Mr. Gleems! I had him last year. Old guy. That class is going to be a breeze. I slept through most of it and still got an A.”

“That’s good to know. I was actually worried about Biology,” I hear myself say. I remember being worried about Biology, and I remember Mr. Gleems having a surprisingly easy class. But I don’t remember Maverick telling me this.

“Ms. Harding is a good English teacher, but you can’t get away with sleeping in hers. Pay attention and you’ll be fine,” Maverick tells my past self. She was a good teacher but made me work for my A. “I don’t think I ever had the other teachers you have, so I’m gonna have to say good luck with those.”

I hear my own laughter, then, “Any recommendations for extracurriculars?”

“Anything you want, but definitely not softball. That’s what all the snobby, cool people do.” I can almost hear