by Cody Wagner
Suddenly, the door was thrown open and Coach Adkins burst into the room. Seeing what was happening, he rushed to the bed and heaved me and Cassie off the girl as if we were pillows. The girl saw her opportunity and, screaming, flew at Jimmy. She was no match for Adkins. He caught and gripped her in a bear hug. He was so strong, she could barely even flail against him. Finally, she gave up and went limp in his arms.
“Turn on a light,” he said to me.
I ran to the wall and flipped the switch and together, we all looked at the girl.
It was Tracey, Luke and Darrin’s friend.
Before we could react, Adkins went for her eyes. Pulling back her lids, he looked at her pupils. Horror flashed across his face. Seeing my confusion, he regained his composure. Giving nothing else away, he ordered a student to get Principal Wolcott.
Sixteen
Aftermath
I’d like to talk about every single thing that happened next, but, when the immediate threat was over, I practically collapsed from fatigue and sickness. The exertion shot my temperature up and I could barely function.
I vaguely saw Wolcott come in with a group of teachers. They escorted Jimmy and Tracey out of our room. By the time she left, Tracey looked different. The insane hatred was gone, replaced with utter confusion as she sobbed and apologized. Even through the haze, it ticked me off. How could she attack Jimmy then beg forgiveness right after? She was obviously faking it because she got caught.
A woman I didn’t recognize sat down and began asking me questions. By that point, I was useless and she stopped, felt my forehead, and proceeded to make a huge fuss. I felt myself heaved up by Coach Adkins and placed on Cassie’s bed, where he dressed me. Although feverish and dazed, I hoped I wasn’t wearing my holey underwear. Afterward, someone led me to the administration building and put me to bed.
When I awoke some time the next day, everything was blurry and my throat was on fire. I half expected to be in my own room, thinking everything was a fever dream. I peeked around; this definitely wasn’t my room. It looked like a tiny hospital ward. There were cabinets of supplies all around and a gurney in the corner. A couple more beds sat around me, each with a retractable curtain.
Jimmy lay in the one next to me, sleeping. Seeing him triggered memories of the night before, and I flew up. Bad idea. The room swam and I had to stop and grip my blanket to balance myself. The woman I’d seen last night rushed over. I hadn’t even noticed her, and I flinched, almost toppling off the thin mattress.
“Sorry about that. I’m Dr. Lindahl.” She had one of those pleasant, disarming smiles she’d probably practiced a lot. Patting my arm, she continued, “You’re going to be fine. We just kept you here for observation.”
I didn’t care about myself and replied, “How’s Jimmy?”
She looked over at him. “Well, he had a frightening evening. But he’s fine, too.”
I closed my eyes for a few seconds, letting relief wash over me.
Lindahl patted my arm again. “He says you saved his life.”
“He has the strep to thank for that.” I froze as a realization hit: if I weren’t sick, I wouldn’t have heard a thing. I mean, if Cassie hadn’t woken up, I sure as hell wouldn’t have. I gulped and looked at Jimmy again. If I weren’t sick, he might have been killed.
A shudder started in the base of my spine and grew as it sped to my head. I had never been this close to death. I’d never even known anyone who’d been murdered, not even indirectly. Soon, my entire body was shaking. Dr. Lindahl jumped up and laid me back. Within seconds, I was still, but my mind continued to tremble.
“I can’t imagine what you’re going through. I can give you something for the anxiety.”
I shook my head, not sure what I wanted. Part of me craved nothing more than to lay down and sleep for fifty hours, part of me needed to talk to Jimmy (or at least stay and protect him), and part of me just wanted to leave. I settled for asking, “Is he going to be safe here?”
“Very,” Dr. Lindahl replied. “No one is allowed in without permission.”
“What about our friends?”
“No one,” Dr. Lindahl said. “Here, now take this.”
“I don’t want anything,” I said, turning away.
“It’s antibiotics for your strep.”
“Oh.” I figured that was important, so I grabbed a pill and washed it down with some water.
“You should start feeling better within twenty-four hours.”
I nodded a thanks and glanced at the door. “Can I leave?” I wasn’t planning on abandoning Jimmy; I just wanted to check my options.
“Principal Wolcott wants to talk to you first.”
I felt myself tense; he probably wanted to grill me about last night. The thought of talking to him again made me nervous. However, I figured I might be able to get some answers of my own. Or at least some reassurances.
Half an hour later, a large set of double doors opened to my right and Principal Wolcott walked in. He was wearing a suit, as usual, and his hair was perfectly sculpted. I felt my throat dry up (which was probably a good thing) and tried my best to look sophisticated and smart. Lying in a hospital bed, my hair a disaster and body festering, I don’t think I succeeded.
The instant Wolcott saw me awake and disgusting, sadness washed over his face. It was just like orientation, where I felt he was suffering with me. When he reached my bed, he stuck out a hand. I went to shake it but stopped.
“I think I’m still contagious.”
“I don’t care,” he said, grasping my hand. His grip was strong and warm. It made me feel better.
He let out a long, slow breath. “I’m so sorry for these unfortunate circumstances.”
“I’m just confused,” I said.
He nodded. “I’m sure you are. But I hear we have you to thank for Jimmy’s safety.”
I hung my head. “If I had just reacted sooner, I might have stopped anything from happening.”
He put a hand on my shoulder. “You were ill and still took action. It’s more than most people would have done.”
“I doubt that,” I said.
He smiled. “Coach Adkins said you’re one of the hardest working students he’s ever had.”
I perked up. “Really?”
He nodded.
“Huh.” I didn’t know what else to say and sat there, blushing. I respected Coach Adkins and he didn’t seem the type to throw around loose compliments. I reminded myself to make some time to talk to him. Of course, I’d said the same about Timothy and hadn’t done a thing.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions about last night, if that’s OK.”
I shrugged. “OK.”
He leaned forward and rested his chin on his fists. It was surprisingly casual, and I guessed he was trying to make me feel more relaxed.
“First, I want to hear your version of what happened.”
I nodded and began talking, spilling everything I remembered, from seeing the door open, to the girl coming in, to her climbing into Jimmy’s bed and trying to smother him. I mentioned Cassie and I trying to stop her, without giving myself too much credit. I wasn’t being modest; guilt spread over me like a blanket. If I hadn’t been paralyzed with fear, I might have stopped everything before it started. If Cassie was awake, I’m sure she would have, and the thought depressed me.
When I finished my story, Wolcott had his fingers pressed to his lips. My throat ached, but I acted as if nothing was wrong.
“Tell me about the girl,” he said.
“It was Tracey, a friend of Luke and Darrin’s. I don’t know a lot about her.”
“Were she and Jimmy friends?”
I shook my head. “Not at all.” I paused for a second, feeling like a tattle-tale, before saying, “She was pretty mean to him. Lots of students here are.” At that, I shut up. It should have been OK to talk about this, but it was weird. Wolcott sat, looking at nothing for a minute.
“We have zero tolerance for bullying.”
&nbs
p; I’m sure my stare was incredulous—if he believed there was no bullying here, he was completely out of touch. But he didn’t seem to be the oblivious type and he nodded.
“We just don’t have the staff here to properly enforce it. And students are so hesitant to come forward.” He was right about that.
“That still doesn’t explain why she tried to kill him.”
He nodded absently, then said, “Was there anything different about her?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did she seem dazed or different or out of it in some way?”
I wanted to say that I wasn’t paying attention to her personality as I tried to get control of the situation. That’s when it hit me.
Control.
I had completely forgotten about that, and pushed myself up. “Actually, sir, when I got Tracey off him, Jimmy said something about her being under control.”
Wolcott shot up in his chair. “He said she wasn’t.”
“Huh?” I said.
As intent as I’d ever seen him, he said, “Are you sure?”
The change in his demeanor was weird and, although I was positive just a second ago, I suddenly questioned myself, saying, “I think so.”
He stared through me, like he was looking into my soul. “What exactly did he say?”
“Well, she was on top of him and, when he looked at her, he said, ‘You’re under control’.”
“Is that exactly what he said?”
I thought hard and, again, said, “I think so.”
Wolcott looked at something not in the room, then turned and squinted at Jimmy, who was still asleep. The look he gave was weird—Wolcott was definitely disappointed. Had Jimmy hidden this from him? And, if so, why? I didn’t have time to ask because Wolcott straightened and his old, caring self returned as he asked, “Did he seem surprised?”
That caught me off guard. “Now that you mention it, he was. Very surprised.”
He sat for a few minutes then said, “Is there anything else?”
“I don’t think so,” I said.
“OK.” He stood up. “I’ll let you get some rest then. But I may need you to talk to some other people. Is that OK?”
Surprised at his abruptness, I muttered, “I guess.”
“Good.” He reached, shook my hand again, and began exiting the room. Before I could stop myself, I blurted, “Wait, what is going on?”
“It’s nothing you need to worry about. Just focus on getting better.”
He’d told me not to worry about it months before, at the beginning of the year. Maybe things weren’t really my concern then, but they were now. I pushed myself up. “It’s nothing for me to worry about? One of my best friends was almost killed.”
He turned and stared at me. I felt sheepish; I’d just questioned the principal. But I felt I deserved some answers.
As if sensing my conflict, Wolcott walked back and put his hand on my shoulder. “I know and I’m so sorry. But I can’t tell you anything.”
“At all? Can you at least tell me why?”
“I’m sorry.”
I continued to barrage him with questions, but he’d only respond, “I’m sorry.”
I grew frustrated and, thinking of my dad at the hotel in Fort Smith, fell back against the pillow. At least Wolcott didn’t abandon me. He stood there, patiently letting me get it all out.
Just as I felt empty and was about to tell Wolcott he could go, I decided to throw out the ace in my sleeve.
“Does this have something to do with the Siren?”
Wolcott flinched in shock. It was the first time I’d ever seen him like that. His face grew tight and he looked angrily at Jimmy’s bed. No, he wasn’t angry, just disappointed again.
“What has he told you?”
“Nothing,” I said. “He hasn’t said a word.”
He looked as if he didn’t believe me so, to protect Jimmy, I added, “Someone gave him a poster of Sirens for Christmas and he freaked out.”
Wolcott leaned forward. “I never heard about that. Who gave it to him?”
I shrugged. “No idea. It was part of the white elephant thing.”
He stared at me for a second then straightened. “I have to go.” He squeezed my shoulder again and left.
I didn’t stop him; I knew he wouldn’t tell me anything more. Little did he know he’d already given me the answers I needed. My entire body trembled with the realization:
A Siren really exists.
I took a deep breath, knowing Tracey must have been brainwashed. And now I think I knew why she attacked Jimmy.
Panting, I turned and looked at Jimmy. He must have been sedated because I hadn’t heard him stir in a long time. I admit I crawled out of bed to make sure he was OK. He was breathing normally in his bed, which caused a shiver of relief to zip through my body. Taking a cue from Wolcott, I squeezed his shoulder, then walked back to my bed as Dr. Lindahl re-entered the room.
“I bet you’re ready to go, huh?”
I glanced at Jimmy before saying, “Yes, please.”
“Well, as long as you promise me three things, you can be on your way.”
“What’s that?”
“Number one, rest.”
I didn’t think that would be a problem. I was feeling lightheaded and my throat ached from talking with Wolcott. I nodded at her.
“Number two, take your medicine. All of it.” She pressed a package into my hand.
“Twice a day until they’re gone.”
“OK.”
“Number three, the staff doesn’t want you talking about this. To anyone.”
I stared at her. It felt like some weird cover-up.
Seeing my confusion, she said, “They don’t want you to spread panic.”
I didn’t know how to respond. The request made sense, especially considering Wolcott didn’t even know what was happening. Also, I had no reason to doubt his motives or the teachers’. They’d done nothing to make me question their judgment. However, something weird was definitely going on, so, while I agreed with her, I told myself I could talk with Cassie and Roze. Hell, Cassie was right there when Jimmy was attacked, so she was already in on everything.
After dressing and grabbing my medicine, I pulled at one of the double doors which began to open on its own. It banged against the wall and I walked through then froze—a muscular man in an army uniform was positioned just outside. He looked straight ahead at nothing, like soldiers I’d seen in pictures. Is he guarding Jimmy? Staring at him, I made my way outside, lost in thought.
What is going on here?
Stepping out into the cold, two things happened. First, cold air scratched at my face like fingernails. Not wanting a relapse, I pulled an ugly wrap Lindahl had given me around my mouth. Second, Roze barreled into me with a giant hug. It was awkward, but nice. I almost made a sarcastic comment, but smartly let it go, saying, “It’s good to see you, too.” She punched my arm and I laughed (immediately regretting it as pain erupted in my throat).
As we walked back to the dormitory, I prepared for her to lay into me with questions. Instead, she said, “I have to tell you something.”
“What’s that?”
“Cassie’s in your room, packing.”
I stopped, my entire body tensing up. “She’s leaving school?” My hands started shaking; I didn’t know what I’d do if she left.
“No, she’s packing up your stuff too. You’re switching rooms.”
It was like a summer breeze had passed over me, and I exhaled the longest breath of my life. I slapped Roze’s arm. “You scared the crap out of me.”
I shook my head to get rid of thoughts of Cassie leaving, and said, “Why?”
“They figured you wouldn’t want to stay in the room where an attempted murder happened.” She stressed the words “attempted murder” as if amazed she got to say it.
Our moving made total sense. I didn’t think I could ever sleep there again. And I couldn’t imagine Jimmy back in the bottom bunk with those hor
rible memories.
“I’m glad,” I said.
“I figured you would be. I could barely sleep in my bed thinking about it.” She leaned in and whispered, “I put all my pillows in the closet.” I shook my head and she said, “Scoff all you want. I do what it takes. That’s why I covered my mouth when we worked out and look how that turned out.” With that, she pretended to cough and hunched over.
“I don’t look like that,” I said, straightening. I sure felt like it, though. The walk back to the dorms exhausted me.
We walked into my room to see Cassie shoving clothes into a suitcase. Cardboard boxes littered the room. She’d been hard at work—the room was mostly empty and the boxes mostly full. Feeling bad for not helping, I walked to my dresser and began pulling out clothes.
“Oh no you don’t,” Cassie said, tearing a pair of underwear out of my hands. She scowled at me and, realizing what she was holding, dropped them into a box with a yelp.
“What?” I asked.
She grabbed my arm and pulled me to her bed.
“We’re taking care of this. You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I’m fine,” I lied.
She glared at me, said, “You look awful,” and pushed me back onto her bed. I noticed she kept me away from Jimmy’s bed. In fact, it was piled with stuff, which made it less threatening.
I didn’t want to be lazy, but Cassie was right. I felt miserable and didn’t think I could stand up. I settled for propping my head up with a pillow and watched as Cassie and Roze worked together to box everything up.
“What are they going to do with the room?” I finally asked.
“I heard they’ll leave it empty this semester and reassign it next year.”
The thought was unsettling at first, but there were no signs of any struggles. Technically, no one was hurt. I guess new students next year would have no idea anything happened. Of course, people would try and scare them, but I didn’t want to think about that right now. While I could still function, I wanted to get their thoughts on my conversation with Principal Wolcott.
