Sheltered

by Debra Chapoton

  Ben pulled the side chair up, giving himself a moment to process the rush of information. He sat next to Megan. “No, not that I know of. Maybe it’s a reaction to his meds.”

  “What meds?”

  “Um, stuff he takes to, uh, control his . . . problem.”

  Megan waited a second to see if he’d explain more and when he didn’t she told him, “When he came out of it he acted like himself, well, like Chuck. He said to me, ‘Hi, how ya doin’, Megan’ and then he got up like nothing happened and went downstairs.”

  Ben stared at the screen and didn’t meet her eyes.

  “Ben, he walked on the ceiling. It was like what Cori did to that guy only he was in control. And . . . he was really scary. I was afraid he was going to kill me.”

  Ben reached his hand out and touched Megan’s wrist. He felt awkward, but he ran his fingers up her arm and squeezed her shoulder. She leaned toward him and he was unsure how to respond. He gave a little squeeze and dropped his hand. “It’ll be okay,” he lied. “What do you want to do? Call the police?”

  “Yeah, right, after they were here last night. They’ll investigate this place and I have a feeling Mrs. Kremer isn’t going to check out too well.” She took in a deep, shuddering breath. “Is she?”

  Ben shook his head. “Look, Meg, I don’t know why all this stuff is happening. I can’t explain it. But . . . if you think Chuck should go, then I . . . I guess I could get him into some kind of facility . . . maybe.”

  “And Adam, too?”

  Ben touched her hand again, took hold. “Megan, Chuck and Adam are the same guy. That’s his problem. He’s schizophrenic. There’s really only Chuck.”

  Megan pulled her hand away and used both to cover her mouth. “Oh, no.” Her eyes welled up again. “He doesn’t have anywhere else to go, does he?”

  Ben shook his head, took both her hands when she dropped them to her lap, and pulled her up. “Come on, we can talk to Emily about this. Make a decision.”

  “No.” Megan dropped back into the chair. “Maybe nothing really happened. Except the seizure. I had a bad day. I might have imagined the attack.”

  Ben sat down. “You had a good day, I thought. You seemed happy between all your classes. Did your . . . appointment . . . go bad?” He wished he hadn’t said that as soon as it was out of his mouth. Megan’s face fell and the sobs began. Ben had no idea how to respond to her outburst, but he didn’t have to. A double ringing of the doorbell was immediately followed by pounding at the front door.

  Ben jumped up and fled the room. He could see through the front window the outline of a police cruiser in the street. He stage-whispered back at Megan, “It’s the police.”

  ***

  Could this day get any worse? Megan grabbed all the tissues and dabbed at her eyes with the dry ends as she sneaked into the kitchen to listen.

  Ben opened the door and invited the officer in. She heard the cop stomp the snow off on the rug and close the door behind himself.

  “Are your parents home tonight?” the officer asked. Is that what Ben told him last night? That he lived here with his parents?

  “No, sir, sorry. It’s just me and, uh, my girlfriend.”

  Girlfriend? Was that creepy or sweet?

  A sweet but necessary lie, she decided. Megan could imagine the policeman scanning the two adjacent rooms for her. She should probably make her presence known.

  “Uh huh, well, I’m here following up on what happened last night. The guy’s locked up and he won’t be out for a while. He was working alone, but if you see anything suspicious don’t hesitate to call 911. Tell your parents that, too.”

  Megan shifted her weight and persuaded herself to go into the foyer. “Hello.” Her voice was meek and she could feel the officer’s eyes examining every inch of her.

  “Evening, miss. You all right?”

  “Uh huh, I’m fine.” She should explain her reddened eyes, but Ben was holding out his hand and if she was supposed to be his girlfriend then she should grab it. As soon as their fingers were intertwined Ben grinned at her and she smiled back. Her eyes were most certainly shining.

  “All right, then. You kids take care. And keep your doors locked.” The policeman let himself out and Ben locked the door as soon as it was closed. He reached for Megan’s hand again and led her into the living room and onto the couch.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, still holding her hand.

  “What?”

  “About lying. You know, that you’re my girlfriend, that I live here with my parents, that stuff.” He squeezed her hand.

  Megan let herself be mesmerized by his eyes. She couldn’t help but tilt a fraction of an inch toward him and then he matched the movement until their lips touched. Gently at first and then with a little more force that matched the pressure of their clasped hands.

  She felt the euphoria, felt her body responding to his warm lips. She liked the heat from his cheeks and his breath. She kept her eyes closed and enjoyed the scent of his cologne, how their noses kept touching, and the softness of his lips.

  ***

  From her nest at the window Emily had spied on the wintery world, watching and waiting for Ben’s return. When he finally arrived she slipped down the hall and started down the steps, stopping when she heard him greet Megan in the den. She perched on the fifth step and listened. The door at the bottom was ajar a good five inches and she could hear them clearly.

  When she heard Ben tell Megan that Chuck was schizophrenic and there was no Adam she put her head on her knees and clasped her legs tightly. She could barely take in the information. Why hadn’t Ben ever told her?

  She thought back to when she had explored Chuck’s room. Now she knew why he kept the field day certificate from so long ago.

  They were all damaged. It was no wonder that she had nightmares. No wonder Cori could levitate people. No wonder Chuck was walking on the ceiling, attacking. Having seizures.

  No wonder Ben was lying.

  She heard him ask Megan what she wanted to do. If she wanted to call the police.

  Emily closed her eyes and prayed. The police. The police. The police.

  A knock at the door. Her eyes flew open and she glimpsed Ben passing the stairs. He whispered back at Megan a phrase with the very words Emily had chanted.

  The police were here.

  She came down two more steps after she saw Megan slip by. She listened to the lies. Why did the policeman think Ben lived here with his parents?

  Girlfriend? Megan was his girlfriend now?

  Emily’s head was throbbing. She descended the last few steps and touched the knob when she heard the front door close. She stayed stiff, unmoving, and listened to Ben and Megan settle onto the couch. A few words: an apology, a question, an answer. Then a sheltered silence.

  She pushed the door wider, a sixth and seventh inch, enough to peer through with both eyes and see down the hall and into part of the living room. Their knees were touching, their feet toe-to-toe, but she couldn’t see their upper bodies.

  Too quiet.

  She pushed the door all the way open, stalled, then stepped through and closed it with excessive harshness.

  Too loud.

  “Em, is that you?”

  Tuesday

  Chapter 11

  Megan sat in the backseat on Tuesday morning. All three of them were quiet on the way to school. It wasn’t completely awkward, but if the drive had been much longer she would have brought up the fact that Cori had pounded on her door late last night. She had finally fallen asleep after lying there for an hour thinking about Simon, her parents, Ben’s kiss, the police, and most of all Chuck’s attack and epileptic fit. Then Cori had jiggled the knob and slurred a demand that Megan help her pick a lock. What was that about? Megan had merely rolled over and ignored Cori, who gave up and stumbled off more quickly than Megan expected.

  “See ya later, Em,” Ben said as soon as they all got out of the car.

  Megan noticed how he was slighting Emily
who wouldn’t answer him at all, not even to give him her usual thanks. Megan tried to smooth things over by calling after her, “Have a good day, Emily.” There was no response, only a quickening of her pace as if she were late for a test.

  Megan turned to Ben. “She’s upset.”

  “Did she have another nightmare?”

  “I don’t think so. I think she’s upset about what she saw last night.”

  They entered the school and Ben gave a nod to a couple of kids who passed by. “Chuck’s seizure?” he asked.

  “No,” Megan looked back at the kids he had acknowledged and then at Ben, “no, that didn’t seem to bother her when it happened. And I don’t think she believes me about him . . . you know . . . walking on the ceiling and attacking me. She’s upset about you.”

  “Me?”

  “She’s got a crush on you, you know.”

  “What? Emily? We’re just friends.” Ben began to blush and smile, the dimples fluttering in and out like they were nervous, too.

  “I think she saw us.” Megan was direct. They turned down the next hall and one of Ben’s teachers passed by and greeted them both.

  When they reached Megan’s locker Ben leaned against the next one and whispered, “You mean . . .”

  “Yeah, and she’s jealous and I feel a little like I’m betraying her. I only just moved in and, well . . .”

  “I like you, Megan.” Ben’s eyes were only inches away. She held the edge of the locker door and would have swayed with it if he moved any closer. Secret mirth rose from her belly to her lips and spread across her face. This was what it was like to be normal.

  ***

  Emily let the numbness blot out the screaming rage within. Drops of blood stained the inner edge of the toilet bowl before they streamed down and were diluted in the water. She cut herself again, felt nothing, and watched with suitable appreciation as the pink tinge swirled and thinned.

  No one else came in the girls’ john except a single cheerleader, easily identified by the super white shoes with the blue initials of the school along the heel. The wall between Emily’s stall and the one adjacent was open at the bottom and high enough that she could see the girl’s thin ankles and smooth fake tan up to the middle of her well-developed calves. Since it was Tuesday this would be a JV cheerleader and not one of the Varsity girls who were known to be aggressive with girls like Emily.

  Still, she was wary. She grabbed some toilet paper and blotted her wounds. The first warning bell rang and she knew she had five minutes to finish up and get upstairs to first hour.

  The cheerleader flushed, took her time adjusting her clothing, and finally left the stall. She spent another couple of minutes in front of the mirror and Emily watched from the crack where the door would swing. Hurry up. Hurry up. Hurry up.

  When the outer door finally swung shut Emily came out and threw her satchel on the damp counter. She wet a couple of paper towels and tried to blot out the red stains that had formed while she spied on the cheerleader.

  The one-minute bell rang.

  Two girls burst in and Emily crumpled the paper towels and dropped them into the basket, turning her back on the girls as she did so.

  “Oh, this is cute,” one said.

  Emily turned back to see the girl holding up her satchel.

  “Where’d you get it?”

  Emily snatched at it, thinking not of its contents – the broken iPod, the rarely used hairbrush, two textbooks, a razor blade, the useless cell phone she couldn’t pay for – but instead she thought of the last birthday she had with her mom when, for a dollar, her mom had bought this at a resale shop. She tugged at the bag, but the other girl didn’t let go.

  Her earlier rage pitched her forward and she scratched at the teen’s face. The girl screamed, released the bag, and slapped back. Emily struck at both girls and pushed between them. She raced out the door propelled by the vocal abuse. She hit the stairwell and joined two boys who were trying to beat the tardy bell by running up the steps. As they reached the top landing the bell rang and the boys put on a burst of speed that got them through a class door before the ringing faded.

  But Emily slowed down. Her class was at the end of the hall and to enter now meant all eyes would be on her. She headed instead to the second floor bathroom.

  Her mother would be so mad at her for skipping class. She should be severely punished.

  ***

  Adam donned the Fedora and smoothed his plain black t-shirt. Chuck would have worn a sweatshirt today because it was cold outside, but Adam preferred short-sleeves. All the better to show off the guns and roses tattoo he got from that prick his brother’s girlfriend worked for.

  Poor Chuck, Adam thought, he must be delusional to think that a gorgeous girl like Cori was his girlfriend. She treated him like dirt. Maybe he should teach her a few lessons on how to respect his brother.

  He heard her plod down the stairs. He bowed and swept his hat to the floor as she entered the kitchen.

  There, that should teach her something. He grabbed a tuna fish sandwich from the counter and went out the side door. Coatless. The snow crunched under foot as he walked unhurriedly to his car. He started it up and sat there eating his sandwich. The car heater took ten minutes to warm up, the same amount of time as it took Cori to eat breakfast and leave.

  Adam lifted his hat in salute as she walked down the driveway and passed the front of the idling car. He put it in gear and aimed at Cori’s back. She stepped aside, as he knew she would, with barely inches to spare. He braked sharply at the stop sign; the gun slid out from under the scarf and onto the floor of the passenger’s side. Adam watched Cori in the rear view mirror.

  “Asshole,” she yelled as she reached the corner. She stepped up to the sidewalk and continued on the route.

  Adam saw her look back at the house. She’s watching for you, Chuck. He turned the corner and sped up. When he reached the end of the block he pulled up into someone’s driveway and turned around. I’d be doing you a favor, Chuck, if I just ran her over.

  He parked and watched her stop to light a cigarette. Stupid bitch, you’ll die of lung cancer. Better to put you out of your misery now.

  No, Adam, please, no.

  You’re a good brother, Chuck, so I’ll let her pass this time.

  Adam reached for the scarf and wound it loosely around his neck. He put the gun back on the seat.

  ***

  Ben was conscious of his knuckle-cracking and tried not to surrender to the habit when he was around Megan. He ducked into the john after lunch and ran a comb through his dark blond hair, checked his teeth for food, and worried over a pimple that menaced his dimples. Then he popped every knuckle and cracked his neck. When he came out and joined the crowds that flowed from the cafeteria he noticed Emily in front of him. At least he thought it was Emily, same stringy hair, satchel on the left shoulder. Did she have this lunch period all semester and he never noticed?

  He stepped around someone and tapped her shoulder. She jolted and withered to the right, ready, he thought, to duck into the nearest classroom.

  “Em!”

  Her head swung at the sound of his voice and he saw panic and fear fade from her eyes before she shifted her gaze to the floor.

  “How’s your day goin’?”

  She barely hesitated, “Okay. Yours?” She angled her body away from him though they were still moving with the flow.

  “The usual.” He walked alongside of her looking for obvious signs that Megan was wrong, that Emily did not have a crush on him. She acted no more interested in him than the fire alarm box they just passed. He didn’t see the flirty sparkle in her eyes that made Megan so attractive. He didn’t catch her stealing glances at him or staring openly like Megan would. Emily was . . . was just Emily. Sorry, little, pathetic Emily who needed compliments. “Hey, lunch was good.”

  “Thanks. I thought that since, you know, you bought the cans of tuna and the bread last night, so . . .” she still didn’t look at him. “I thought th
at’s what you wanted today.”

  “You’re the best, Em. Catch ya later.” Two compliments should do it, he thought. He veered off and turned to fall in step with Megan as she headed toward the cafeteria. Megan smiled up at him. He wouldn’t have heard Emily’s response even if she had made one.

  ***

  “What are you doing? You can’t skip class,” Megan beamed at Ben. She let him take her hand and they rounded the corner and went through the double doors back into the cafeteria.

  “It’s just Econ and there’s a movie. That’s the great thing about split lunch. Mr. Haley will have the video ready to start and the lights off as soon as the bell rings. He won’t even think of taking roll again.” He squeezed her hand. “Where do you usually sit?”

  Megan let go to motion toward a table of junior girls, hoping that option wouldn’t appeal to him. A jealous bone was making itself known to her; she didn’t want to share him.

  “Maybe we could try someplace else, though,” she said. She twirled her hair in her fingers, silent laughter circled her heart with a pleasant warmth.

  “My car?”

  “What about the parking lot attendant? Doesn’t he patrol the lots all day?”

  “Sometimes, but at lunch he stays down at the exit, checking for early dismissal passes. Let’s take our chances. What’s the worst that can happen?”

  Megan’s face clouded at that expression. She had heard it before from the father of her baby. Come on, what’s the worst that can happen? What are you so afraid of? Everybody does it. She faked a smile and shook off the memory.

  “Okay.” She placed her hand back in his and they wound their way past dozens of noisy tables and two teachers who were unlucky enough to have lunch duty. They ducked into the hall and out a side exit.

  The noontime sun hit their faces, but the freezing January temperatures begged them to run to the car. Megan nearly dropped her sandwich as Ben pulled her along. The blacktop was icy or wet depending on where the snow had melted. He used the remote to unlock the doors when they were twenty feet away and then he opened the door for her and ran around the car.