Rage in Pain Roz: The R.I.P. Series Book 2

by Kris Johnston

  I looked around the room, wishing I'd been lucky enough to get a class with Roz, but if I was, it sure as heck wasn’t this period. I crossed my fingers, wishing I'd see her soon in the next class, or the one after that. I knew Parker was a year ahead of Roz, which meant I was a senior this year, so the odds of us having a class together were small, but I still hoped.

  I needed her to look at me with something other than horror. I needed to be able to look at her when she had her guard down, and just gaze at her. I needed something, anything, to remind me that she still loved me, even if she didn't know who I was.

  “Mr. Evans?” The teacher asked loudly, interrupting my thoughts.

  I cleared my throat and looked up. A girl stood next to Mr. Ivers, holding a paper in front of him. She stared at me with a slight smile.

  She was very pretty. She had long, thin legs in the tightest pair of jeans I'd ever seen, with a snug, fitted blouse that enhanced her ample cleavage. Her hair was platinum blonde and fell in loose curls around her shoulders.

  She stared at me with that small smile, and something in her eyes said she was quite familiar with Parker Evans before his electrocution accident.

  A bad feeling came over me.

  “The principal would like to see you in his office,” Mr. Ivers said, “About a schedule change.”

  I stood up from my desk and gathered my belongings. The platinum blonde let her gaze roam up and down my body as I walked toward the front if the class. She made sure to let her eyes linger on my crotch and I felt the blood rise to my face.

  She's a hussy with a crush on Parker, I thought. Great, just my luck.

  “Take this note with you,” Mr. Ivers said, “Good luck.” He turned away and continued with his lecture for the class.

  I nodded uneasily and reached for the note still in the girl’s grasp. She pulled it close to her chest as my hand moved forward, grinning as if I should be enjoying this.

  I wasn't. I was completely uncomfortable.

  “Take the note,” she whispered.

  Glancing at the teacher, I moved my hand forward just enough to grip the paper and pull it away. She giggled and I turned, walking out of the classroom. I was halfway down the hall before I realized she was beside me.

  “Come on Parker, let's have a little fun before you go to the Principal’s office,” she murmured, and ran her hand up my arm.

  I knew being harsh with this girl was the only way to get her to stop with all the attention. So, I decided to use the amnesia excuse and let her have it.

  “Are you the only one in school who doesn’t know I have amnesia?” I asked her bluntly. “That means I don't know who you are, I don't know who any of these people are, and I sure as hell will not go have some fun with you because you, sweetheart, are a stranger to me!”

  She looked momentarily crushed, but reached out and grabbed my hand.

  “So what, maybe your mind doesn't remember me,” she said suggestively, “But I bet your body does.”

  She pulled on my hand until it was almost touching her breast. I stood there like an idiot, shocked, watching my hand get closer and closer to the dip in her blouse.

  Wake up, moron!

  I wrenched my hand away, out of her grasp, and stared at her.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  She pouted prettily.

  “You really don't remember?” She asked.

  I shook my head no, keeping up the pretense that I was Parker Evans, Amnesia Sufferer.

  She leaned forward, and stood on her toes so she could reach my ear.

  “I'm someone you'll remember soon enough,” she whispered, her breath gliding along my skin.

  It felt more like a threat than a promise.

  With one last caress down the length of my arm, she turned and walked away, her shapely, toned legs and rear end taking her toward the administration office. My eyes marveled at her painted on jeans, and then I had a complete lapse of reason. I imagined myself going after her, grabbing her and pushing her up against the lockers, forcing my hands all over her delicious body and kissing her everywhere. I imagined her gasping at my rough treatment and the sound of it would only make me want to do more to her.

  What the hell?

  I shook myself out of the thought. Where had that come from? I've never seen this girl before today. What was going on with me? Was I experiencing one of Parker’s memories? I hoped to hell I wasn't. The implications of that could mean bad things for me.

  She turned around and grinned slyly at me, as if she knew exactly what I'd just imagined. I felt my face burn and shifted my stance. Then I remembered the note from Administration in my hand, requesting me to speak to the principal.

  I had no choice but to follow her, and wonder why I was being summoned.

  Chapter 5

  ~Roz~

  “Why isn't he dead!” I screamed into the vast emptiness of the girls’ restroom.

  Devon and the others had ushered me in (and ushered all the primping females out), so I could get my bearings and come to terms with my sworn enemy showing up alive. And hopefully, to provide an explanation.

  My limbs became jelly and I sunk to the cold, hard, tile floor as Devon ran a paper towel under the faucet. She squeezed out the excess as I leaned my head against the wall, then handed it to me. I wiped my face and neck with it, but the coolness did nothing to help.

  I was still seeing red.

  “Someone please,” I said shakily, my voice coming in rushed, halted versions of itself, “Please, explain to me how he is not dead!”

  Odie took a seat on the floor next to me as she glared up at The Pastels who hovered around us.

  “Yes, please!” Odie demanded. “Someone tell us exactly what kind of horse shi-”

  “We tried to tell you all summer, Roz,” Devon interrupted, “But every time one of us made an attempt to reach out to you, you shot us down.”

  “So what?” Asked Odie angrily. “You didn't have to take no for an answer! She was grieving, for crying out loud! Of course she didn't want to see anyone. You still could've shown up at her door and demanded to talk to her!”

  “I did!” Devon yelled back. “Twice! As soon as I found out he was taken off life support and lived, I went straight to her house. Bonnie made it clear Roz wasn't having any visitors.”

  I looked up at her. I'd never known Devon had come to my house, or that Bonnie had forced her away. Knowing my state of mind over the summer, Bonnie would've seen how distraught and miserable I was, and in no shape to see my friends. Of course, there were those moments when Bonnie had persistently tried to get me to go hang out with Odie, or give one of the girls a call, but I was lost to the darkness for a time and having none of it. She must have known somehow just how deep my depression had been, if she'd sent away one of my friends even if she wanted me to see them.

  That’s Bonnie, always looking out for me.

  “I made everyone swear not to tell Roz until we could see her in person,” Devon continued. “I didn't want her to find out Parker was alive from a text.”

  She threw a look to Erica, who blushed prettily and did a slight eye roll.

  “I still think a text would've been better than her bumping into him in the hallway,” she muttered.

  “Agreed!” Odie shouted. “You guys said you wanted to protect her, and this is how you do it? Wait until the first day of school and let her find out like this?”

  Everyone fell silent in obvious shame. The Pastels knew he was alive, and never bothered to tell me? Even if I had blown off my friends all summer, they still dropped the ball on this one, big time.

  I reached out and clasped a trembling hand on Odie’s arm.

  “Did you know, too?” I asked her painfully.

  She looked at me, hurt. “The hell?” She shook her head. “I would've smashed your bedroom window to get in and tell you, if I'd known.”

  We stared at each other for long moments and before I knew it, my eyes were brimming with wetness.

 
“I don't think I can do this,” I panicked.

  She moved to her knees and put both hands on my shoulders, giving me a firm shake.

  “Oh, yes you can! You're Rosalind Ines Pastrano, the girl who lived through a nightmare with her parents and survived her boyfriend moving into the light! You can do this.”

  I appreciated her and loved her so much in that moment, but I was filled with unbearable pain and anger. It was the only thing I could feel, and it twisted itself inside of me, almost as if becoming its own entity.

  “I really don't think I can, Odie. This is asking too much. I can't be here, not today.”

  “We have nearly every class together,” she said reassuringly. “For starters, he's not going to try something the first day of school, and if he does, I'll be there to get help.”

  “If it makes you feel any better,” Belle said softly and stepped forward, “His aura is… different… than before.”

  I turned and raised my eyebrows. “Different, how?” I asked.

  “Well, word in our coven is that he has amnesia as a result of Devon frying his rear end,” she winked, “But even then, that wouldn't change a person’s true aura.”

  Jessica nodded, “His aura is much lighter now. Before, it was always sort of a dark, sickly green, combined with swirls of black.”

  “The colors of a Dark soul,” Cindy continued in agreement. “But now, it's lighter. The green is pale now, almost an aqua color, with swirls of grey and white. It's extraordinary to witness it, if you have the proper enlightened vision.”

  I stared at them. “What do these lighter colors signify?” I asked.

  Devon shrugged, “Confusion. It makes sense, really, if he has amnesia.”

  “But amnesia doesn't explain the aqua, or the white,” Erica said. “The white is there, I saw it. It's almost like a thin line of smoke, and it forms in tendrils around his chest.”

  “Of course it does,” Devon said, “He doesn't know who he is or what he's done.”

  “Doesn't matter,” Jess insisted, “It's his true soul, in visible form. The amnesia doesn't change that. Something else happened to him. He's changed.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said, and faced Erica, “What does the white mean?”

  They glanced at one another and fell silent, but only for a moment.

  “Purity,” she said simply.

  “And it's wrapped around his chest,” Belle said excitedly, “So that doesn't just mean he's pure, it means he's pure of heart.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. The months of grief and despair I'd felt suddenly collided against each other inside the hollow cavity of my soul. I'd lost my beloved, and the one responsible for it was now supposed to be a good guy all of a sudden?

  Never.

  I stood angrily, using my hatred to stand on strong legs, and faced them all with fire in my eyes.

  “I don't know what sort of spell he's playing with here,” I said quietly, firmly, “But he wouldn't know purity if it sat on his face. I'll never believe it. He's too evil, too demented. And if you witches won't do anything to take him down, then I will.”

  “But it's true, Roz, he's-”

  I turned and left the restroom, escaping whatever nonsense Cindy was about to say. Parker Evans was a leech that sucked out the very essence of goodness from anything he touched. If The Pastels didn't deal with him, then I would.

  I'd just have to figure out how.

  ***

  My morning classes passed uneventfully, and for that, I couldn't have been more thankful. Odie took every single seat next to me, and we somehow managed to share a few laughs despite the gut-wrench going on in my stomach.

  It was third period when my soul was able to experience a small, quiet moment of complete peace. It was the first time I'd been able to find any true solace since… well, since Jimmy.

  Jimmy.

  I hadn't allowed myself to think his name for so long, but with Parker’s unwanted reappearance in my life, I was compelled to strengthen Jimmy’s memory now more than ever. And if using his name could help me do that, then I would.

  I allowed my heart to utter his name over and over again in a cadence.

  Jimmy. Jimmy. Jimmy.

  My first bit of peace and solace since Jimmy was in third period, which was art class, of course. Once again, Odie and I were able to be in Mr. Harken’s class together and even though I had shrugged off my paints and canvases all summer, today I felt different.

  Today, I had anger, rage, and sorrow. And I needed to get them out.

  There were no beginners in art class this time around, so Mr. Harken simply waved me on as I set up the supplies, allowing me free reign to create whatever it was that my soul needed to release.

  I simply could not believe my first day of school had begun with my nightmare staring at me from across the hall. It was almost as if the fates were insistent on making my life an absolute misery. I wanted to stay positive, because it had taken so much for me just to get out of bed and be here today, but in complete honesty, I didn't feel very positive.

  I was mad as hell.

  I tied the apron around my waist and swiped my brush along the black paint on my palette. Keeping my hand steady, I then stroked the color onto the canvas, feeling a rush at the simple action.

  Ah, there we are. How I've missed you, my paints.

  For several long, unhindered moments I lost myself to the canvas. I had no conscious thought of what I was creating, I was simply releasing the rage that was burning my soul alive.

  When the canvas was entirely black, I added green swipes to it, creating something of an abstract forest at midnight. Along the tips of the “trees,” I used the smallest brush I had to create wisps of color circling up throughout the dark air.

  When I was done, I took a step back and looked at it. It was then that I remembered Jess’ words when she spoke of Parker’s aura.

  A dark, sickly green with swirls of black.

  I sighed. This was the opposite. Black, with swirls of green. I had unwittingly created a reversed version of my enemy’s soul. Awesome.

  The door to the classroom opened then, and a student walked in but I paid no attention. My eyes were focused on the painting before me and the contempt I held for myself at having painted anything to do with Parker Evans.

  I heard Mr. Harken speak in a quiet voice to the newcomer and the rustling of a paper, and then Odie was next to me whispering fervently.

  “I can't believe this!” She said. “Don't worry, we'll get our schedules changed. My mom will be all over it!”

  I glanced at her questioningly, and she nodded to the front of the class.

  There, next to Mr. Harken stood Parker Evans, and he was staring fiercely at me.

  “Class,” Mr. Harken said loudly, “Please welcome Parker Evans. He's a beginner, so I expect all of you to help him with techniques and such.”

  Odie raised her hand quickly.

  “Question?” Mr. Harken asked.

  “Why is he here?” She asked rudely. “This is a junior class. He's a senior.”

  Parker glanced down at the floor, and his face slightly drained of its color.

  Odd reaction, I thought.

  “Yes, well,” Mr. Harken began, “Parker here, has experienced some trauma in recent months and it has affected his memory.”

  Odie huffed. “That doesn't explain anythi-”

  “Odie,” Mr. Harken said sternly, “I'm sure Parker will be happy to answer your questions himself, perhaps in a more private setting.”

  “It's okay Mr. Harken,” Parker said, nodding, “I don't mind if the class knows.”

  Mr. Harken patted him on the shoulder and said, “The floor is yours.”

  Parker looked at Odie, then the rest of the class before landing his gaze on me. My rage fueled a little bit more as I noticed his confidence was gone and he looked nervous.

  Nice try, I thought. I'm not buying anything you say.

  “I had something of an accident at the end of last sch
ool year,” he began timidly. “Some of you might have heard about it. Anyway, it fried my brain a bit,” he paused and glanced around the room again.

  All the students were listening with rapt attention.

  “This morning, my, uh, mother… called our principal, Mr. Sanderson, and explained my situation. Together, they agreed that I should be moved back to eleventh grade, to sort of help me from falling behind and to maybe remind me of the things I've forgotten.”

  “Why art?” Odie demanded. “You never took this class before.”

  He cleared his throat nervously and looked at his shoes, then shrugged.

  “My… mother… thought it would be a good form of therapy for me. For my brain. She had my doctor sign all the paperwork, too. Everyone thinks it's in my best interest to go back a year.”

  “And we are more than happy to help, aren't we, class?” Mr. Harken said loudly, looking pointedly at Odie. The other students nodded and a few said encouraging words. Parker nodded gratefully to them, obviously relieved his speech was over.

  “You can't remember anything at all?” One of them asked skeptically.

  He shook his head, then looked at me.

  “I can't remember anything of my former life.”

  Yeah right, I thought, feeling my anger rise and soar across the room to where he stood. Nice try, liar.

  Chapter 6

  ~Roz~

  Mr. Harken chose Odie to be the one to show Parker where the supplies were and such, just as he had with me on my first day. It was obvious he did that for her rude remarks, and I silently thanked Mr. Harken for it. If anyone could give Parker a piece of her mind, it was Odie. And I knew she'd use the opportunity to set him straight.

  Odie stomped across the floor and reluctantly motioned to where the supplies closet was. Parker smiled at her shyly and nodded, following her to the back of the class.

  As she walked past me, she looked at me and shook her head, clearly displeased with her new position of classroom helper.

  As Parker followed her, he paused by my easel and looked at me with such longing that it reminded me of Jimmy. I shivered. I lowered my gaze to my canvas and his eyes followed, taking in the abstract I’d done.