by C. J. Anaya
Fortunately, her drug phase had been a one-time deal.
“Your hair didn’t look half bad, either.”
“And still you lie. You’re such a good friend. No, I’m inclined to believe every crazy word you just uttered. Having said that, I’m completely freaked out. You shouldn’t walk to school by yourself tomorrow.”
“You’re sounding like my father, now.” I turned my back to the window and plopped myself down on my bed.
“No need to insult me. My request is a valid one considering what just happened tonight. You have your own car. You should drive it every once in a while.”
“The high school is five blocks away. It’d be a waste of gas.”
“I’ve never understood this need of yours to walk everywhere. It’s like you enjoy the exercise, and you and I both know that that is absolutely ridiculous.”
“Okay, you win. I’ll drive to school tomorrow.”
“I always win. You never put up much of a fight, you know.”
“Would the outcome ever change if I did?”
“Of course not!”
“Then why prolong the inevitable?”
“Too true,” Angie said.
I couldn’t help but smile at that.
“Well, since I don’t have the flu or any tropical diseases preventing me from going to school tomorrow, I better get some sleep.”
“All right. I’ll call you tomorrow so you can update me on all things high school.”
“Should be the shortest conversation we’ve ever had,” I said dryly.
“Please be careful.” Her voice became unfamiliarly serious. “You really have got me freaked out.”
“I’ll be careful,” I promised.
I hung up the phone and looked back at my window.
It was morbid. I knew it was, but I just had to look outside one more time. The need to reassure myself no one was spying on me was an obvious sign of paranoia, but I jumped up from my bed and walked over to the window anyway.
Gazing out across my quiet neighborhood made me want to laugh at how worked up I’d allowed myself to get. Honestly, the most dangerous thing in my neck of the woods was a potential visit from my neighbor, Mrs. Simmons, bearing homemade biscuits capable of rendering the most durable molar in two.
I was so busy rolling my eyes at myself, I almost missed the dark figure standing on the only patch of unlit sidewalk in front of my house. It was definitely the same figure I’d spotted when I was on my front porch, and it was definitely a guy, but beyond that I couldn’t make out any other details. I felt that same mysterious pull, making me lean forward a little. The only thing that prevented me from walking toward him in some hypnotic, trance-like state was my closed bedroom window. My forehead bumped the ledge lightly, and I was suddenly back to myself.
I blinked a few times to clear my head and focused in on the guy again. The mist surrounding his body clung to him in strange and unnatural ways. It was definitely horror movie material. Then he craned his head backward, looking up at something.
Was he looking at me?
I glanced down at my cell phone and started dialing Angie’s number, but when I looked up again the guy was gone.
Vanished into the ethereal looking fog.
Freaky.
Setting my phone on my desk, I willed myself to calm down. I was seeing things again.
I just needed to get some sleep…and possibly down a few anti-psychotics. Too bad I didn’t have any.
I turned out my lights and ran to my bed, still feeling like I was being watched. I wondered if going outside in search of the dark figure was smart or suicidal. It was going to be a very long night.
* * *
Waking up in the morning was difficult. Not only did I feel exhausted from the events of the previous evening, but my body was a little off. Maybe I should have actually eaten my lasagna.
After getting showered and dressed for the day I quickly made my way down the stairs. I still hadn’t heard a peep from my father and figured he’d slept through his alarm. As I entered the kitchen and pulled some cereal down from the cupboard I noticed a note taped to the refrigerator.
Got called in early this morning.
Will see you later tonight.
Love,
Dad
I was surprised I hadn’t heard him leave. I’m usually a pretty light sleeper. I poured some Wheaties into a bowl and turned toward the fridge to get some milk. That’s when I heard an odd noise coming from the living room.
Click click.
I stood still for a minute, listening.
Click click.
What in the world?
It sounded like acrylic nails tapping a hardwood floor. I walked slowly out of the kitchen and made my way down the hall, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. When I approached the entrance to the living room, the clicking abruptly cut off. I stopped as well, holding my breath, listening for more. The silence that filled the house made me feel slightly uncomfortable, and for the first time I wondered if maybe I was in some kind of danger.
I’m an idiot. One psychotic delusion, and suddenly everyone is out to get me.
Click click.
This time it came from the dining room to my right.
Delusional or not, I was officially terrified. Getting out of the house seemed like a reasonable conclusion to come to, but fear had paralyzed me, leaving my legs frozen and unresponsive even though the need to flee had intensified two-fold.
I could have been blowing things out of proportion, right? Homes made funny noises all the time. I was simply more aware of it now because…because…well, someone had tried to kill me last night. Hadn’t they?
The hair on the back of my neck stood up as the faint sound of footsteps sounded behind me. All of my weak attempts at thinking rationally flew out the window as panic took over, and I whirled around, sprinting for the front door. I ran into a hard, sturdy figure blocking my way, causing me to fall butt first on the hardwood floor. I let out a squeal of surprise, blindly jumped to my feet, and lifted my fist to deck whoever threatened my safety.
“Whoa, Hope. What’s wrong with you?”
I looked up, startled to see my dad standing there in front of me instead of the crazy ax-murderer I’d envisioned.
“Dad? You scared the living poop outta me,” I practically shouted. “What in the world are you doing here?”
“I live here.”
I stared at him hard trying to figure out if he was being serious or sarcastic.
“Yes, I’m well aware of that. I’m talking about the note you left saying you got called in to the hospital. What are you doing back so soon?”
The look on my father’s face made it abundantly clear that I’d baffled him. I thought about grabbing the note from the fridge and waving it in his face, but his expression switched from puzzlement to embarrassment.
“Right. The note. Turns out they didn’t need me after all.” His words came out slow and hesitant.
“Dad, are you all right?” Something certainly wasn’t right. The hospital always needed my father. I continued staring at him, trying to pinpoint what it was about him that felt different.
“Of course I am, darling. I’m just a bit tired. I’m feeling a little sick, actually. Maybe you could make it better for me?” He said it like he wasn’t sure I could.
“Make what better for you, and how? And since when do you call me darling? A little formal, don‘t you think?”
Now I was really confused. I hadn’t sensed my father had any health issues the night before. I had a habit of checking on him whenever I gave him a hug or a squeeze on the hand. He was all I had left, and I wasn’t going to lose him. I felt certain he wasn’t coming down with anything, but something was definitely off about him.
He acted like he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do next. Then he gave me an awkward smile and took several steps backward.
“Well, you should probably be getting to school now. Don’t you think?” His backward strid
e picked up some momentum.
I stood uncertain in the hallway, watching him continue to put distance between us.
“Uh, sure, Dad. You’ll be okay?”
“Yeah.” He turned away quickly and swung himself toward the bottom of the staircase.
I listened as my father stomped up the stairs, entered his bedroom, and shut the door behind him.
What the crap?
I moved to the front door, grabbed my backpack from off the ground, and walked outside to my car. My beat up Chevy wasn’t much, but it was mine. I climbed in and set my backpack on the passenger seat, all the while sensing someone watching me…again. It was the same awful sensation I’d felt last night on the way home from work. I looked up and saw my father staring down from his bedroom window.
What is going on with him?
I considered getting out of my truck and going back inside to figure out what was really happening here, but the idea of entering my own home made me feel nervous. Without understanding why, I quickly backed out of the driveway and pulled away from the house.
I studied the tree in Mrs. Simmons’ front yard as I passed by. It looked completely unscathed. I pulled over to the side of the road and quickly climbed out of my truck. I had to get a closer look. After reaching the tree in two running strides, I stared up at the perfectly browned bark with its rough and slightly weathered texture. Not a burn mark on it. There was absolutely no sign it’d been torched last night. I glanced around, still feeling like someone watched me.
“I’m losing my freaking mind,” I muttered under my breath.
I returned to my truck and headed for the high school. As I glanced in my rear-view mirror, I could have sworn I saw another flash of that very odd looking cat, a cat with two tails.
* * *
I walked through the front doors of Eureka High School and gritted my teeth as a young boy with spiked hair and several rings in his face ran into me. The brief contact gave me enough time to connect with his life force. It happened instinctively, and I was shocked I’d connected to it at all. It usually took a little more time than that.
He was nursing a fractured wrist and a bad sprained ankle. The injuries felt recent. I wondered if a fight broke out before I’d arrived, then noticed the skateboard in his hand. I did my best to smother the sympathetic emotions stirring within me. Now was not the time or place to heal a fellow student.
Forcing myself to move away from him, I carefully made my way down the hall. Several other students managed to jar me, one right after the other. Their various aches and pains overwhelmed me. Realizing I’d managed to connect to several life forces in a matter of seconds, I froze in my tracks. I tried to hold perfectly still, not wanting to accidentally connect with anyone else. As soon as a pathway cleared, I frantically rushed down the hall and into my first class of the day. I stood in the doorway and leaned against the wall, feeling like I’d just passed through a war zone. My thoughts returned to Sarah’s comments concerning my increase in power.
It’s been such a lovely, abnormal morning.
I walked over to my desk and nearly slammed my knee into it when I saw Angie sitting at hers with a cat-like grin on her gorgeous face. Not only was she here a full day earlier than expected, but she was early to our mythology class.
Early wasn’t Angie’s style.
“Hey, I can’t believe you’re here. I thought you said you needed another day to recuperate. Are you better already?”
“I still feel a bit drained and achy, but I heard there was a new guy in school and that he’s totally hot. I couldn’t stay home lounging around my bedroom while some slut—meaning Tanya Sedgwick—snatched him up before I did.”
I laughed, feeling relieved and happy to know that I had been right as far as Angie’s illness was concerned. I’d begun to wonder if something was wrong with me. Maybe I was sick. It rarely happened, and I didn’t usually notice since it was so easy for my body to heal itself. Sometimes, I had to force my body to stop the healing process just so I could get sick occasionally like any normal human being. Not a pleasant experience.
“Hey, Hope. HOOOOOOOOPE!”
Angie waved her hands back and forth in my face.
“Sorry,” I said. “My brain damage has been especially debilitating this morning.”
“Wow, that word had a lot of syllables in it. I keep warning you that everyone is going to start believing you’re incredibly ancient.” She reached over and gave me an I-haven’t-seen-you-for-two-days hug.
I squeezed her back, thinking that her remarks about being ancient felt spot on. I was exhausted.
My stomach grumbled loudly. Exhausted and hungry.
“Crap! I forgot to eat breakfast.” I sat down in my seat and pulled a three-ring binder from my backpack. “So, tell me about this new guy. Wait, why didn’t you tell me about him on the phone last night?”
“After you and I finished talking, I received a phone call from a very reliable source who claims that a new family has moved into town, and one of those family members just happens to be male, our age, and hawwwat!”
“Angie, your reliable source wouldn’t by any chance be your eighty-year-old, next door neighbor, Mrs. Potts, would it?”
“Exactly!” she said as if that statement alone proved the validity of her intel.
That woman’s stamina amazed me. Didn’t eighty-year-old women need to be in bed by a certain time?
“Please, she’s a nosy gossip with absolutely nothing to do all day except make up crazy stories to report to the police. Don’t you remember that one time when she convinced the entire police department a bomb had been planted in her front driveway?”
“That was pretty entertaining. She made like a million éclairs and kept feeding them to all the onlookers.” She moved to the front of my desk. “I think she’s just lonely, personally.”
“She’s also blind as a bat.”
“I know. Crazy how she was able to see a hot guy across the street from her house, don’t you think?”
It was obvious Angie had purposely missed my point.
“What’s even crazier is that she’d care enough to call and tell you. Wait, that means the hot guy lives like two houses away from you,” I said, finally putting the pieces together.
“I know!” she squealed.
I tapped my pencil to my forehead in an effort to jump-start my sluggish brain cells. I was really struggling this morning.
She leaned over the front of my desk, looking ready to impart some big, juicy secret. I gave her an encouraging smile, knowing Angie enjoyed having an avid audience, even if it was just me.
“Okay, these are the deets. His name is Tie and he’s hot, hot, and hot.”
I stared at her as the shock registered on my face. “That’s all you know? That’s all Mrs. Potts told you? This is completely unacceptable. Your investigative skills are getting rusty, Angie. You usually have a guy’s entire life history memorized within the first ten minutes of him showing up on your hot guy radar, and all you know about this one is his first name? You got a last name floating around there somewhere?”
“Okay, first of all, I’ve been out of commission so cut me some slack here, and second, that was pretty much all Mrs. Potts knew. There really wasn’t much to find, although I did happen to inadvertently get a copy of his class schedule, and I know he has folklore and mythology with us.”
“Ah ha. That’s why you’re here early. I was wondering.” I wiggled my eyebrows at her. “And you got his class schedule…how?”
It was Angie’s turn to do some eyebrow wiggling.
“For your safety and security, I feel it’s imperative I keep my sleuthing skills to myself.”
“You totally made out with Mr. Peterson’s office aide, didn’t you?”
Her eyes widened. She was all innocence.
“It was a small price to pay for life, liberty, and the pursuit of hotness.”
“Well, considering the fact you probably just gave him your flu bug, I’d say the onl
y one paying the price in this situation is the office aide.”
“And I know he’ll think it was so worth it!” She let out a naughty little laugh.
I joined in and couldn’t stop as other students started filing in. The bell rang, and the last of the students fell into their chairs while Ms. Chinatsu Mori, our Folklore and Mythology teacher, stood up and addressed the class.
I looked around the room expecting to see someone new and good-looking in one of the back seats, but the same old faces I’d seen since kindergarten stared vacantly past me. I looked to my left where Angie was sitting and raised my eyebrows as if to say, Where’s the hot dude? She just shrugged her shoulders, puzzled, and then faced forward, pretending that her faulty intel and the price she’d had to pay to get it wasn’t as big a deal to her as it should have been.
“All right folks, since it’s February and Valentine’s Day is right around the corner I thought it would be fun to discuss some folklore and mythology that centers around…love.” Ms. Mori said the word love as if she were some swooning teenager.
There was giggling and grumbling in equal amounts as she picked up her piece of chalk and walked over to the board.
“Off the top of your head, who do you immediately think of?” she asked, chalk poised at the ready.
“Cupid,” yelled out a freshman.
“Cupid, seriously?” Angie muttered under her breath. “Why do they let the little people in with the seniors? It hardly seems fair to the masses.”
“The masses, meaning us?” I inquired softly.
“Of course I’m talking about us. Who else is as important?”
My lips quirked into a smile, thinking Angie’s statement was all the more hilarious because she was absolutely serious. Other students continued shouting out answers.
“Okay, so we have Cupid, Venus, who else?”
“How about Aphrodite?” Angie offered. “Wasn’t she a goddess of love and beauty or something like that?
