A Portal to Leya Read Free Page B

don’t know if I can keep reading. I’ll try. Please
call me. I have more emails, I’ll post soon.
    Heather OMG
this blog is so depressing. What is it? Is it like a memorial for Leya Blackwater?
Do you think she can hear you? I’ve never read a blog like this before. I knew Leya
too!! Do you call her Leya? I didn't know her that well. I love that nickname
though. She was in two of my classes this year. I just moved here from Vermont.
Leya was hilarious. She used to look back at me and cross her eyes when Mr. D.
was lecturing. I loved how she crossed her eyes! Lance, I really like how
you’re writing this blog. I think it’s so cool. I can’t wait to read more. I
feel so sad for you though. : ( I do think you could use some help.
    @heather thanks but I’m fine. I don’t need your help. If you think you’re going to cheer
me up, you’re not. Life isn’t that simple. It’s not all about root beer lip
gloss and the ski team. I think you are grossly misinformed about me. I despise
most people and am writing this for myself and Leya and no one else. I don’t
want any diatribe about how pitiful I am and how sad it must be. All that
wasted jargon; all those niceties make me want to vomit.
    Heather fyi
I don’t wear lip gloss and am petrified of skiing and I forgive you honey.
    @heather don’t call me honey.
    THE
RETURN
    I
saw Leya. I swear it was real. She was right next to me. I smelled her— strawberry
shampoo. She was sitting on the foot of my bed. She looked right at me and
smiled. She moved in closer. I reached out. I touched her hair, ran my fingers
through it. I put my head up close to it and smelled it. Our mouths were so
damn close but then a sharp painful agonizing wretched sound penetrated my
ears: “TIME TO GET UP, LANCE!” It’s unbearable pain, the real world, I mean,
without Leya. I don’t know if I want to stay here without her. Why? Who did
those things to her? I’m supposed to go back to school. I can’t imagine. Leya loved
school, told me to study hard: Study hard, Lance!  I hear her. I feel her
energy, I know now my blog is working. I keep thinking about her eyes. They looked
almost sad. I can’t bear it. Was she sad for herself or me?
    Lance
    COMMENTS
    2cents you’re in denial dude. Get some help, some meds, something. When I lost my dog,
I was the same damn way. Get a grip.
    Heather I’ll
look for you today, Lance. What do you look like? Who are your teachers? PM me
a pic of yourself so I can find you! You won’t scare me away. I know you’re
sad, but I can cheer you up!
    @heather no
thanks.
    @2cents I don’t need your asinine advice. Losing a dog and a human are two entirely
separate items. You’re a buffoon.
    2cents I loved that dog like a brother. Yeah you need to get a grip bro
    DISSASSOCIATED
AMENISA
    Ok,
I did it. It was painful, like jumping into a pool of ice; but I went to
school, faked it. I'm great at faking. The novelty is gone, so I can be
invisible again. But focus is impossible. I’m trying to listen to teachers but
their voices drone on like an annoying hum. One part of me knows I need to care
but the other part is lost. It’s as if my brain is split in two. One side is
for Leya and the other half is on pause. Someone asked me today if I know who
murdered Leya. How the hell would I know? I said. He told me to fuck off. There's
a bunch of rumors that Neal Lourdes is the killer. No surprise. Was it Neal
Lourdes or someone else? Maybe it was me. Maybe I blacked out. Could I do
something like that? Could I have some freaky psychotic break? I think it’s
called Disassociated Amnesia. I remember it on CSI. This guy seemed normal
enough and then murdered his family, kids too. His last memory was of
scrambling eggs. He didn’t remember a thing. No trigger. No signs. Then when I
got home today, a detective was waiting for me. That didn’t make me feel any
better. Jake, detective Jake, came to our door, said he wants to speak to me.
Dorrie made an arrangement because I