“Okay. I’ll wait in the office.” I let out a huge sigh.
“I’ll be there as close to 2:30 as I can get. Are you okay? You sound wiped out.”
“Yeah, just tired. I think it’s the weather.” Which was true. I was sick and tired of the gloomy rain.
I ended the call, wondering what to do with myself. Maybe I could go hang out in the bathroom until study hall or hole up in one of the cubicles in the back of the library until it was time to go to the office. I did have a report coming up for English. Miss Troxell was always easy on me. Perhaps she would vouch for my absence this afternoon. My feet started walking in the direction of the library as if my mind was already made up.
I tried not to think of Garreth, but that was nearly impossible. All my thoughts were centered around him, so to not think of him took some serious effort, even if the voice I heard in my head now was tinged with anger. Even if the warm blue of his eyes were cloudy and hostile. I just couldn’t believe he would drink on his lunch break with those idiots. My instincts were right on. They were wolves. More than anyone else, Garreth understood the power of influence. He understood temptation and being swayed in the wrong direction.
At least, I thought he did.
Was he so eager to fit in with those guys? Was he pressured? I was starting to feel guilty. He would have stayed and eaten lunch with me if I hadn’t encouraged him to go with them. I shook my head, wondering how Garreth was handling this sudden turn of events.
My stomach growled and I realized that my own lunch break was sadly overdue.
I settled myself in one of the wooden cubbies in the back of the library, hoping no one would notice me. I unwrapped the now smushed granola bar and took a bite, feeling it fall like lead to the bottom of my stomach. Holding my soda can underneath the folded layers of my sweatshirt, I popped the tab, hoping the sound wasn’t too obvious. It could be worse. I could’ve smuggled a bag of McDonald’s french fries in, attracting anyone within a two-block radius.
All I wanted was to be alone.
I tried to make myself comfortable on the wooden chair and found myself wishing for the comfortable seat I had been exiled from. I can’t believe I fell asleep in the parking lot.
Despite what happened after I woke up, there was something strange about the dream I had slipped into. The details were cloudy, but there was a balance of comfort and terror all jumbled up in it. And there was something bizarre about that feather in the parking lot.
Thirty-three minutes came and went and all I did was ponder my dream and play with the scrolled mark on my right palm. I was mesmerized, zoning in and out, making it disappear and reappear, timing how long it took. Now my hand ached from clenching it over and over and I still had a dull ache in my stomach.
After the final bell, I waited for my mother in the office, my butt numb from the library chair. I found a softer seat and stared blankly into space, chewing my bottom lip, trying to thwart off the thoughts of Garreth that played over and over in my mind. Two secretaries busied themselves behind the long formica counter, casting curious glances in my direction at regular intervals. I recognized one from last year when Garreth and I basically dismissed ourselves after my disruptive dream in history class. Garreth feared that Hadrian was closing in on us and that’s when the mark on my hand came into existence.
I shut my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall, trying desperately not to think of them. Two Guardians, so alike, yet so different. But attempting to push them both to the back of my mind was futile as I tried to make sense of what just happened. And the funny thing now was that they no longer seemed so different anymore. Just unbalanced. It was adding up to something that subconsciously I didn’t want to face or believe possible—that in the blink of an eye, Garreth could change.
A familiar figure strode into the office pulling me from my thoughts. My mother reached out, touched my forehead in concern and then said, “Ready?”
As we pulled away from the school, she turned up the heat in the car and eyed my damp clothing.
“What’s with the wet?” she asked, returning her gaze to the street.
Without thinking it through I answered, “We had gym outside today.”
“In the rain?” her forehead got all scrunchy in the middle.
“It actually stopped for a while.”
Which it did.
She didn’t answer.
“We started running track today.”
Which we didn’t.
My mom inhaled deeply and dropped the subject. Why was I lying? What was wrong with me? But I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth about Garreth. Not yet. Maybe never.
I stared out the window, thinking how today turned out so miserably. This morning was the only nice part. The part when I woke up to find him there in my room. Now all I could recall was the far off look in his eyes in the car.
My day was crap.
And now my whole week would be equally crappy. No Garreth for the rest of the week, and Friday loomed on the horizon. Ugh. Pizza with mom’s boyfriend . . . and Brynn. I could see it now, my mother playing the gracious hostess, the smiling doctor nodding in approval at her overly eager display of hospitality and Brynn . . . who would set foot in my house and butter everyone up. Probably by offering to set up a pizza topping bar or something just as equally witty, while, with each passing torturous minute, planning my demise.
Chapter Seven
After dinner I listlessly ventured upstairs, leaving my mother behind on the couch, the blue glow of the six o’clock news illuminating the living room. We had eaten with minimal conversation and I cleaned up afterward, my unspoken peace offering for this morning.
She was disappointed that I didn’t want to sit with her, but with my usual excuse of homework, I trudged up the stairs with guilt in each step. Really all I wanted was to be alone and brood. I couldn’t help feeling that we were growing apart with each passing day. If only I had the courage to include her in what was going on in my life, instead of keeping her at arm’s length. But if I told her everything, from start to finish, including what happened over the spring and the summer up until now . . . Yeah right.
Flannel pajamas beckoned from my dresser drawer. It was only 6:20 p.m. but the day had been too miserable for words. I needed comfort. Maybe I would make hot chocolate in a little while, or tea. Tea always made me feel better.
I opened my calculus book and within minutes everything on the pages blurred together. My mind kept wandering back to Garreth. Was he okay or was he as miserable as I was? I slammed the book shut and hung my head in my hands.
The urge to call someone hit me hard. But there was no one to call. Garreth didn’t have a phone. He had never needed one. I pushed the button on my computer monitor. It beeped with life. The bright glow greeted me and my fingers flew over the keys. Before I knew it, an email to Claire had been typed. Just seconds before hitting the “send” button I sat staring at the message, feeling utter loss in my bones. A tear trickled down my cheek. What would happen if I sent it? No one would answer it. Her email account was long since closed. Who else would have her email address? [email protected].
The “My” stood for the first two letters of her last name. Myers. But I always felt it was more personal than that. MyClaire. She would always be “my Claire.” My best friend.
My index finger hovered over the send button. I didn’t need to reread the message. There was nothing written in the “subject” box. The message didn’t pertain to anything in particular, just mindless babble . . . my awful day, how I missed her. I even mentioned how I’d been talking to Ryan a bit more. She would have loved his T-shirt today, a monkey with a banana up his nose. Claire loved questionable humor.
The ebb and flow of the content was more like a diary or a journal entry with no real rhyme or reason to it. I was just blowing off steam and admittedly, I felt better. For ten minutes Claire was alive to me again. I closed my eyes, hit the send button, crawled into bed and silently wished to myself that m
aybe somewhere, Claire would get it.
My alarm clock woke me up. Under the circumstances, I felt remarkably well. A weight of unimaginable proportion had been lifted off my chest with my spur-of-the-moment email to Claire. I smiled, imagining it had reached her on some celestial broadband. I sat up and stared out the window and felt the empty spaces fill once again.
The rain had ended, but it was cloudy and probably would be all day. Oh, well. At least my feet would be dry today. I looked around as if seeing my room for the first time. Something felt different. I heard my mother waking in the next room. If I took the time, I could calculate exactly how many minutes would pass before she was on the other side of my door.
Then it hit me.
Garreth hadn’t been here to wake me.
I wrapped my arms around myself, desperately trying to recreate the feeling I had all night, the feeling of being wrapped and cradled in soft, warm arms. I even remembered words floating to me, hushed in my sleep-filled dream . . . words that had said “I’m sorry . . . I’m here . . . forgive me . . .” I woke with the strong feeling that Garreth had come to me in the night. That everything would be all right. He had stayed, here in my room with me. I was sure of it. I looked around, expecting him to appear, but no Garreth. No angel wings to hold me tight, yet the skin on my arms tingled as if they had just been touched. They were chilled as if I had been lying against something warm for hours.
My mother’s dresser drawer scraped shut. Her feet were coming closer up the hall. I looked out into the center of my room. Nothing. I squinted my tear-filled eyes, trying to conjure an image of him, willing him to materialize in front of me just to see him disappear and be satisfied.
My jaw clenched. Panic rose in my chest.
Now. Please.
Nothing filled the space in front of my eyes.
Just the usual knock at my door as Mom’s sleepy steps echoed into the bathroom.
I choked on the lump growing in my throat and numbly sat on my bed. Like in a trance, I slowly walked over to my closet and chose the first thing my hand touched to wear to school. I combed my hair into a ponytail, going through my motions without thinking or feeling anything. Before my mother even got out of the bathroom, I was downstairs making coffee. I grabbed my backpack and keys and shut the kitchen door as she was mid-sentence, calling to see if I was up yet.
My feet found their way to the alley behind our garage. My hand found its way to the lock on the door of my white Cabrio. My butt found its way to the seat on the driver’s side. I started the car and headed for school, impatient to get there for once. I so desperately needed to be distracted. I needed the noise, the hustle and bustle. The gossip. The rumors. The cliques. The people I hated and didn’t understand. I wanted my ears and my head to be filled with their babble so I didn’t have to think of . . . him.
I parked the car and very zombie-like walked past everyone and into the school. I walked straight to the quad where my locker stood. If Brynn comes down the hall to pester me again, I won’t even look at her. If Ryan meets me here again, I won’t tell him anything. I won’t tell him about skipping yesterday afternoon. I won’t tell him about Garreth getting suspended and what he did to deserve it. I won’t tell him why my car is parked in the parking lot today instead of a gun-metal gray Jeep Wrangler. I will make it through my day just like everyone else. I hope.
My fingers effortlessly spun the combination, the numbers flying past with experience. Right. Left. Past the zero twice. Right and slowly . . . stop on 32. The lock popped and I slid the metal lever to the right. I pulled the door toward me. A large black suede-looking feather floated out at me. The feather from the puddle. It fell to my feet, zig-zagging in slow motion, as the words from my dream came back to me.
“I’m here . . . forgive me.”
My locker tilted sideways and everything was sliding. I heard buzzing in my ears as the voices of the kids around me began to fade away. They were pointing at the feather . . . wondering, laughing . . . they didn’t know what it meant.
But I did.
One voice came to me. The voice from my dream. The voice that belonged to the arms and wings that held me all night, comforting me.
It didn’t belong to Garreth. I was right about him not coming to my room.
An unbidden name came to my lips and I felt my mouth shaping it, making it real, rushing it out of my lungs with the breath I had been holding tightly inside my chest.
I heard the whisper with my own ears.
“Hadrian.”
Chapter Eight
Amid the laughter ringing in my eardrums, I was caught by a strong pair of arms, which appeared out of nowhere before my head hit the locker. I looked up, dazed, into Ryan’s concerned face.
“Are you okay, Tea?” he asked quietly, ignoring the little circle behind us that had stopped to watch the theatrics.
I nodded quickly, eager to regain my composure.
Behind us a shrill, familiar voice rang out above the muffled audience. Day two of misery had officially begun. Her footsteps clicked closer as she forced her way through the crowd and drew in an exaggerated breath of shock.
“Oh, Teagan, are you okay?” she cooed sarcastically.
“Leave her alone, Brynn,” Ryan answered on my behalf. “This isn’t the time or place.”
“Oh, but it is. Can’t you see? You’re such a hero, Ryan, saving Teagan like you did. Why, did you know she’s practically my step-sister?” She nodded her head as if declaring an utterly juicy tidbit to us all. I cringed at the mere idea of what the future held . . . perhaps someday being “related” to her.
“Break it up, everyone. There’s nothing to see.” Mr. Herman had stepped out of his classroom to break up the nosy little group that was growing in the hallway. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the cool locker to steady myself.
“Like I said, there’s nothing to see,” Mr. Herman repeated for our benefit. “Be on your way, Miss Hanson.”
Being dismissed was something Brynn loathed. She was supposed to be the “queen” of the senior class. As I turned to face her, she gave me a steely glare and uttered one last comment.
“Another girl falling at your feet, huh Ryan?” She did a little wave with her fingertips and added a mocking smile toward Mr. Herman as he turned his attention back to me and Ryan.
Assuming this was another student ploy to get out of class, he eyed us with suspicion. When he saw my pale, sweaty complexion his expression softened.
“Do you need to go to the nurse, Teagan?”
I shook my head, “I think I’m okay. I . . . I didn’t eat any breakfast this morning.”
“Mr. Jameson, why don’t you escort Miss McNeel to the vending machine in the cafeteria and make sure she fills up on something decent. I’ll inform your homerooms that you’re present and accounted for.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ryan spoke for both of us.
With a nod and a concerned smile for me, Mr. Herman turned around and walked back to his own homeroom class, which by the sound of it was getting a little too comfortable without his supervision. His voice boomed, restoring order to the chaos I felt responsible for and he shut the door behind himself.
“Are you dizzy?” Ryan was still holding my elbow, afraid to let me stand on my own.
I shook my head to answer “no” and began searching the floor for the black feather. It was nowhere to be found. Who knows how many feet trampled it? But still, I looked for it, unable to take my eyes off the floor. I was so sure it still had to be here, somewhere.
“What are you looking for? Did you lose something?” We were walking toward the cafeteria for my “breakfast.”
“Yeah, my mind.”
I felt foolish wasting time staring at the floor, knowing we would only be excused from the short ten minutes it took to take attendance. Asking Mr. Herman to give me a hall pass to look for a lost feather from yesterday’s rainstorm was not only pushing it, it was insane.
We entered the empty cafeteria, or
“food court” as we sometimes liked to call it. The five vending machines standing side by side on the one wall were all we had to give variety to the masterpieces like creamed corn and Hamburger Helper. The student body liked to consider it a secret addition to the food pyramid.
Ryan deposited a dollar bill and punched the buttons A5 and E9, dispensing a chocolate chip granola bar and a yellow mini package of Lorna Doone cookies into the metal bin below. He reached in and handed them both to me.
“Here,” I began fumbling with the zipper on my purse to pay him back.
“It’s on me,” he smiled.
“Thanks.”
We walked over to one of the white laminated benches and parked ourselves as I gently tore open the package of cookies, offering one to Ryan. He shook his head no.
“So, do you want to tell me what happened back there? What did you mean by you ‘lost your mind’?”
I chewed slowly, not eager to tell him anything. In fact, if I remembered correctly, I had just given myself a pep talk about keeping my problems to myself. That was before that stupid feather had to fall out of my locker and ruin everything. I looked at him closely, trying to read him, anticipating how he was going to react.
“You’re going to think this is crazy,” I warned him.
Ryan sighed and cocked his head to the side like I was stating the impossible.
“Don’t you think you and I have seen enough to know nothing’s crazy?” he asked.
I bit my bottom lip, wiped my mouth on the back of my hand and delved into the story I swore to myself I wouldn’t tell. Before I knew it, Ryan had been given a short-but-sweet account of the dream feather coming back to haunt me, the spilling-my-guts email to his ex-now-deceased girlfriend, the too-real dream I had last night, Garreth’s no-show this morning and unfortunately the whole escapade that happened yesterday; including the disgusting cologne worn by Derek Arnold, which I made Ryan swear under oath to never wear. I also spilled the beans about Garreth’s strange behavior, his drinking, his suspension and my hiding out in the library for the rest of the day.
LEMNISCATE Page 3
