Travelers

The room smelled like cheap lip gloss and urine, but I still took a deep breath. I hugged my arms across my chest, closed my eyes, and forced my mind to concentrate on my bedroom. At this hour, my parents would be at work, leaving the house empty. As always, a sharp pain tugged just below my heart, and a whooshing sound, like a wave of water forced into a small space, overtook my senses. A frightening cold seeped through my torso for a split second before I felt the tingly rush of my body materializing. I glanced around and laughed aloud. I stood in my room between my bed and the dormer window that overlooked the street, right where I planned to be. Grateful no one else could see me, I did a quick happy dance. Then I grabbed one of the textbooks I’d forgotten that morning and closed my eyes again. I ignored the familiar cold rush as I prepared myself to reappear in the bathroom stall. Since I’d left no more than fifteen seconds ago, I doubted anyone even noticed my absence. Solid ground formed under my feet a few seconds later, but before I opened my eyes, I knew something was wrong.