She reaches for his hand which is almost completely shoved into the pocket of his leather jacket. The second they touch, her eyes roll back in her head and she passes out. Dorian is standing looking down at her before she hits the ground. At the sound of her fall, the whole class turns to see what’s going on.
Dorian’s face is ashen as he says loud enough for the whole class to hear “She’s having a seizure.” And almost as if on cue, the girl starts to tremble and writhe.
As others rush to her side, I’m still staring at Dorian. While most of the class is trying to get closer, Dorian is backing away with his hands in his pockets. He’s looking down at her with a horrified and guilty expression, his mouth ajar. Just before he slips out the back door he looks straight at me, and then he’s gone.
I can’t make sense of what just happened. Dorian didn’t do anything to her – I was watching the whole time, but then why did he look so guilty. How did he know so quickly that she hadn’t just passed out? He said it was a seizure right away – how would he know? And his expression…if he didn’t do anything to her, why did he have that expression?
It seemed like the paramedics were never going to arrive and then it seems like they’re never going to leave. They check her pulse and breathing multiple times. The seizure isn’t stopping and considering all the scary things they’re saying about her condition I don’t know why they aren’t trying to get to the hospital faster. The whole room feels tense with the hope that they could move just a little quicker. As the paramedics push her through the door, class time is almost done and most people are packing up when Professor Kondy raises his voice from the front of the room.
“Today’s incident will not change our course curriculum. I expect you all to study chapters 4 and 5 in greater detail because I will not be giving a makeup lecture for what was missed today. You should also read chapter 6 before our next class to prepare for the next lecture.” Ugh. This guy is a piece of work. Is there anything that could derail his precious curriculum?
In his haste to get out of the room, Dorian left everything at his desk. I decide to skip running home for lunch to see if he comes back for his things. I send off a quick text to my mom letting her know I won’t be there, and I wait but he doesn’t show.
After a long time staring at his belonging, I decide to pack everything up and take it with me. I can give them back in our second class together this afternoon –he can’t be rude to me if I’ve done him a favor, right? I’m glad to have a good reason to talk with him, but he isn’t there for that class either and I ponder the possibilities of what to do with his things all through class while I should have been paying attention.
I feel odd about keeping his things overnight. I decide to do the right thing and turn them in to the admin office. As a reward to myself I decide that I should be able to have one quick look through his notepad. On the first page I flip to, I see an image of my own face perfectly sketched staring back at me. My eyes are drawn wide open and I have a look of awe on my face. Oh my – this must be what he sees when I’m looking at him. I guess I haven’t been hiding my admiration very well. No wonder he keeps looking at me. It all makes sense now that I realize that I must be part of some art project he’s doing – the faces of hopeless adoration.
I flip through several more pages and see a few more drawings of my face, and one that makes me drop the notepad in shock. I pick it up to study the picture in more detail.
The pond and the trees are all sketched in perfect detail. The shape of the rolling hills is exactly how it should be and in the foreground is an image of me with my hand rubbing Mary’s head by the edge of the pasture. How could he have seen that? I was at home. Has he been following me? A sudden fear and thrill run through me. I look around the empty room expecting to see him staring at me now, but I’m alone. I should be furious with him and offended that he was spying on me, but those aren’t the emotions I’m feeling. I’m flattered and excited and hopeful – does he want to be near me too? The brief flicker of a thought that he’s interested in me sends a spark through my body from head to foot that makes me suddenly feel warm like my whole body is instantly blushing. I’ve never felt something like that before and it takes me by surprise.
With all my effort I change the direction of my thoughts and try to regain my composure. I squinch my eyes shut tight and make my thoughts repeat several times in my head “He doesn’t like me, and all these pictures don’t mean anything.”
Suddenly it’s very important to me that he doesn’t know that I saw this. I can’t even risk turning this stuff in – what if they told him it was me that did it? If I were a different, more courageous person I would confront him about it – but right now I just don’t want to be caught snooping. It’s my best chance of figuring out the real reason why he’s been following me. I need to take his things back to the biology room and leave them there in hopes that I won’t get caught.
I practically run to Greene Hall to put everything back. I pile everything up on a small table at the front of the room. I make it in and out of the room in what I imagine to be record time and by some miracle, I don’t think anyone noticed me. It’s 5 o’clock, so all the class buildings only have a few stragglers now, like me. Walking back to my car I breathe a sigh of relief.
At home, I’m glad that my parents are busy with harvesting. It gives me time to think about Dorian’s drawings. I’m sure that I should be scared, calling the cops, getting a restraining order. In my head I can think of all the responses I should be having, but the problem is that I just can’t make myself feel that way. He must have been hiding somewhere in the tall grass watching me. Trespassing and stalking. Why then can’t I stop smiling when I think of it? Maybe that’s the reason why I was so terrified to confront him about his drawings – I didn’t want him to see that I was happy about being stalked. If he’s got a thing against girls that like him, he’d be able to see right through me and he’d probably start walking the other way.
I lay in bed going through loops in my head of the same argument, but every time I let my thoughts drift to the possibility that he likes me, logic goes right out the window. I try to re-direct myself back to the emotions I should be feeling but I just end up with a goofy grin instead. I don’t know what time it was when I finally fell asleep, but I also know it was late enough that it better for me to not know the actual time.
At least when my alarm went off, I could be comforted by the fact that it was Friday. I was almost done with my first week of college and I could make it through one day no matter how tired I was from a restless night.
Everyone seemed to be in better spirits at school with the week almost being complete, but as I sat through a day without Dorian, all I felt was disappointment. His books were gone from the table in bio, but other than that there was no sign of him.
The way the room erupted into excited conversation, it almost felt like the last day of school not just the end of the first week. Before making it out of the room, I had three invitations to parties that night and one for the next day. I was only one of two freshmen that came from the local area, so it seemed like everyone was displaced and in a rush to make friends.
I politely declined the invitations for tonight because I wasn’t going to miss out on the plans I already made, but I said that I might go to the party Saturday night as I took the small flyer offered to me with the details. I didn’t really want to go to any of the parties, but it seems like I should try to make some college friends.
For me, tonight wasn’t about making new friends, it was about spending time with my oldest friend - Wyatt Jones. He was named after a Wild West sheriff, something that other people might consider a burden. Maybe it would fit in a place like Texas, but not in the middle of Wisconsin. Wyatt always seemed to like it though, – just like almost everything else in his life. He never seemed to see a disadvantage in anything, and it made him popular and easy to be around. Whenever he’d introduce himself to someone and they’d react to his name he’d
just smile widely and start talking in a fake old-time western accent so silly you couldn’t do anything but smile with him.
I wouldn’t picture myself as the best friend of the most popular person in school, I’m too awkward in social situations and I don’t like parties, but we’ve been friends since before either one of us was in school. Part of why Wyatt means so much to me is that he never seems to notice my flaws and he’s always shown unwavering certainty that I am exactly the type of person he wants as his best friend.
He was a grade ahead of me, but he’s been closer to me personally and geographically than anyone else for most of my life. His grandparents owned the house next door and since he moved in with them when he was three, we became very close. As kids, when my parents were busy, they would send me to Wyatt’s house where his grandma could keep an eye on us. My mom would do the same thing when Grandma Jones had something to do. Once we got older it just seemed natural that we should spend time together. Since it all started when I was only 2, I don’t ever remember a time when we weren’t best friends.
The last two weeks was the most time I ever remember us spending apart. Since he graduated high school, he’s been working at a cabinet/furniture maker. That shop, a business that does custom paint jobs on cement trucks and the gas station next to it comprise Pickett’s industrial neighborhood. Wyatt loves working there, and he loves learning new things so much, the owner of the shop sent him to a 2-week class in Indianapolis on designing furniture with curves. He was so excited; he barely talked about anything else for the month leading up to his class.
As I pull into the A&W where we were meeting to eat, I can’t believe how eager I am to see him. I didn’t even realize until just now how much I’ve missed him. As I walk in, I see him seated next to the door with a table already full of food. When he sees me, he flashes a wide grin, stands, and wraps me in a bear hug that lifts me off the ground as he sways side to side.
“Hey! You know I don’t like being picked up!” I try to sound mad as I swat at his shoulder, but I can’t keep the laughter out of my voice – it’s good to see him.
“Get taller and I wouldn’t have to” he jokes as he puts me back down on the ground. “Your dinner awaits – I ordered for you!”
“No, you ordered for ten!” I waive my hand at the tray piled with food as I sit across from him.
“Only for two. You…” He grabs the kid’s meal bag off the tray and pushes it toward my side of the table. “…and me.” He grabs the rest of the tray and pulls it tight in his arms while scrunching up his nose making a pig noise.
“You are a pig!” My insult only makes him smile wider and I can feel my answering smile grow too. “And what makes you so sure that I didn’t want to order something else?”
“History - you like those root beer suckers they throw in kid’s meals too much to ever change your order. But if you don’t want it…...I’ll eat yours too!” He reaches for the bag, but I snatch it away just before his hand can make contact.
“No, this is what I wanted. I’m just keeping you on your toes and making sure you didn’t forget me these last two weeks.” I tried to say as dramatically as I could.
“Lucky, it would take more than 2 weeks to forget the last 16 years with you….it would probably take at least 3, maybe 3 and a half weeks.” He says teasing me with his smile going from ear to ear even though he’s trying to keep it subdued.
The next two hours pass easily. When I finish eating, I relay every detail I can remember about my first week at college, including the party I was going to tomorrow night. I told him everything, except I didn’t mention Dorian.
While we were eating ice cream, Wyatt told me all about his class. He must have taken a hundred or more pictures with his phone and he flipped through each one telling me what it was. I didn’t know a lot of the words he was using, but it was nice to see him so excited that I didn’t want to stop his explanations.
After eating, we went back to Wyatt’s place to watch a movie. Just a few months ago, Wyatt moved out of his grandparents’ house next door and into the one house in Pickett that was divided up into apartments. He wasn’t next door anymore, but I was glad he was still close. It worked out well for him, because the apartment building was only a very quick walk away from the cabinet shop where he worked – a benefit of living in a very small town. Wyatt’s apartment had the essentials according to him – a couch, a fridge and a TV. He didn’t want to buy any other furniture because he was planning on making his own someday. The owner of the shop he worked in would let him use the equipment at night whenever he wanted, so amazingly he actually could make his own furniture. Everything he’d made so far had ended up at his grandma’s house except for the desk he made for me which was in my room at home. Wyatt always thought of others before himself – it would probably be years before he got around to furnishing his own apartment and it would only be after he was out of things to build for the lucky people like me that he loved.
While watching the movie, I can’t keep my thoughts away from Dorian. Why didn’t I tell Wyatt about him? He’s the most interesting thing about my first week at college and I can’t think of anything else I’ve ever kept from Wyatt. For some reason I can’t place, I want to keep this to myself.
Darkly I think that I should let someone know about my stalker – just in case I go missing or something. Even that thought isn’t enough to actually make me say anything though.
Dorian, my dark secret. That’s a thought that does make me smile. I’ll use anything as an excuse to have some kind of a claim on him.
As the credits appeared on the screen, I realize that I can’t even remember what the movie we were watching was about, so I abruptly leave before Wyatt can start asking me about it.
Holding something back from Wyatt is making me edgy and being near him isn’t making things easier. I’m tired anyways and it appears that not getting sleep last night is catching up to me.
I lay awake in my bed Saturday morning contemplating what to do with my day. With Wyatt planning on spending the whole weekend in the shop, the only thing that I have on my docket for Saturday is to get ready for the party tonight. I’ve never been any good at getting dressed up or doing my hair, but then I remember how Em has saved me countless times.
Em is the only other student in the freshman class who is a local. But better than that, she’s the only other person besides Wyatt that I would consider a true friend. Her family had more money than most families around here, so she was living in the dorms. I think she would have gone to a bigger city for school except that she didn’t want to be too far away from her father. Her mother passed away when we were both in the 8th grade and ever since, she’s been taking care of her dad. I think staying close to home was her way of keeping an eye on him and that staying in the dorms was her way of trying to keep him from watching her too much.
I decided that after spending a few hours on homework, I would stop by Em’s room. I was only there once when I helped her carry up boxes on move in day, so it was about time I visited her anyway.
When I told her about the party she was absolutely gushing. She’d gotten the same flyer and she was ecstatic to spend the day getting us both dressed up. I didn’t even have to ask her, and she was already going on about how she was going to do my hair and makeup. Most of the time I tried to avoid letting her use me as a dress up toy, but today I was grateful. Even though this is going to be her first college frat party too, I know she can be trusted to get everything just right.
She’s bouncing with energy as she finishes curling my hair. She always seems to have boundless energy – especially when it comes to any type of social function.
At first, I was planning on going to this party because it felt like something you were just supposed to do in college. Maybe I watched too many movies, but it seemed like every one of them had a college party, so it was kinda like a requirement. I also didn’t want to be completely alienated from the rest of my class. I know I’m going to have a ha
rd-enough time just because I’m living off-campus, so I can’t make it worse by never seeing anyone.
It was the right decision to visit Emily. It’s hard to be around that much enthusiasm without some of it rubbing off, and now I’m starting to get excited for the party too.
Having finished her work on both of us, she opens her closet door to reveal the large mirror on the back. Em looks amazing, but I’m used to that. She has large dark curls flowing half way down her back, and perfect skin. Her eye lashes are so long she wouldn’t even need to wear mascara. On top of being naturally beautiful, she had an excellent sense of fashion and her strengths. Her clothes always accent her slim waist and long legs. I always thought she could have worn anything and made it look good, but she is the type of person that would never be haphazard about her appearance.
What really surprises me is my own reflection in the mirror. Except for my red hair and pale skin, it looks like we could be sisters. She’s managed to cover my freckles enough that my skin looks like porcelain. My clothes are usually loose and earth toned but wearing Em’s bright green 60’s inspired dress makes me look like I have a figure. My hair is styled just like Em’s and the makeup makes my eyes stand out by reflecting the color of the dress. There is truly no limit to what Em can do.
Before we head to dinner, Em takes about a thousand pictures of us with her phone and sends them out through all her apps.
We were planning to go the college dining hall. I was happy because it was cheap. She was happy because there were bound to be a lot of people there.
Lucky: Dorian Gray Novels Book 1 Page 2
