by David James
I breathed in...
This is too much, this storm of him and her.
...and tried to forget.
Tyler smiled as he walked away calling, “Seriously. Let this go, otherwise it’ll eat you alive.”
But, as I turned and walked through the cafeteria doors and the thunder crashed against me, my eyes hit two hundred others forcing one thought to rise above the rest: They could be anywhere.
Tyler was right; I could feel those thoughts sinking their teeth into my heart until I had no choice but to live them all over again.
I tried to push it all away, but couldn’t.
Then, instead of thinking about what was, I found myself focusing on what wasn’t.
I am not breathing.
I am not living.
I am not me.
I could not forget.
As I walked to where my friends sat, I lost myself in the sounds of the screams of teenage dreams, hoping I could find a way to breathe again. And, in the middle of the wonderland that no one really understood because it never seemed long enough to let you, I remembered.
Mom and I stood shaking in the icy October night, wind screaming at us as though it never would again. The whole night was like that: Loud and angry. Even the moon, full and infinitely bright, seemed to shiver with quiet rage like an old enemy. And as the moon lit up the sky, so did our house burning orange in the darkness.
“Stupid kid,” my father said to the police. He rubbed his thumb against the back of his head. “He’s only five. Must have knocked a candle over in his sleep.”
I hadn’t.
It had been the anger.
The moon. Always when the moon was full, bursting.
Mom squeezed against me, but I could feel her pulling away as though the wind was pushing her back. She had a rule, I knew: Never be close enough for it to mean something.
“Let’s go sit in the car, Calum,” she said. “It’s too cold to stand out here.”
It was even colder in the car, the wind somehow finding its way in through the cracks and thin windows. In the back seat, I could see Dad still talking to the police, see the way he pointed at me, his lips forming words: Stupid, idiot, worthless, nothing. I could see the fire reflected in his eyes.
That’s when I first thought this: I am nothing.
And when I felt anger rise again, felt rage burn inside and destroy me like flames to our house, I thought this: I am my father’s son.
“Calum?” Mom said, her voice tense and afraid. “Don’t do it again. Get out of the car!”
But I couldn’t move.
I could hear him scream louder than the wind. “I’m not paying for what that stupid kid did. I didn’t even want him.”
I closed my eyes. I could feel the familiar rush of tormented hate as it coursed through me like acid.
Stop. Stop. Why couldn’t this stop?
I heard a car door slam and mine open and Mom was pulling me out of the car but it was too late. I felt the car explode, felt the heat as the burst of metal and plastic and fire threw us across the yard.
I heard Mom land next to me, heard bone crunch and heavy breathing and “I’m okay. It’s just my wrist.”
“See! The boy’s a freak!” Dad shouted.
He was right.
I felt more anger, but pushed it away.
I promised myself I’d never feel angry again.
I’d hide it somewhere deep inside so I could never find it, push it far away so it would never find me, until it disappeared forever and I was free. Until I could live and breathe and be me without destroying things I loved.
I didn’t know how it happened, this secret power only my parents knew of but never spoke about, but I knew anger was the reason. What else could it be?
Like a fist against my face: “Damn kid is a freak.”
He was the reason, too.
I opened my eyes and saw the stars, how they blinked and lit the sky in close clusters. Saw how they made beautiful shapes. Somehow, even though they were all different sizes and colors, they came together as though they always had. As if it was normal to be that close.
That was the first time I noticed the stars.
The last time I cried.
I picked out a star, the brightest one, and made a wish.
~
“Nothing is how it’s supposed to be,” said Annabelle Lee. Her body moved like an ebony worm as I sat down, her eyes struggled to find a safe place on me, like always; I was a topic better left unsaid.
“Hi, Calum,” Annabelle said smiling cold.
An unspoken rule: If they were to really look at me, they wouldn’t like what they saw; a boy filled with a dark past no one really wanted to understand. Secrets everyone suspected but no one dared question. So they smiled and waved and said they were happy to see me, their eyes never meeting mine.
I was more ghost than boy; they saw me, but didn’t.
No one but Tyler ever really did.
But I had something unspoken, too: I liked it that way. If they didn’t have to look, neither did I. These were the hours I could pretend to be normal.
Pretend to forget that I am not me.
“Homecoming is next week and they haven’t even started putting up the decorations I made,” Annabelle complained. “Everything is so wrong.”
“So you’ve said for the past three days, Annabelle,” said Tyler. Somehow he managed to beat me to the table. He took a huge bite of pizza and said, “Hey, Calum.”
“Sick, Tyler,” Annabelle said, her long black hair, straight as arrows flying, tossing back. “Swallow before you speak. We don’t need to see what you’re chewing, thanks.”
I cringed. She always said his name like Ty-luh, with a shrill lift at the end as though she were singing, which might have been nice had her voice sounded any less deviant.
“You say that everyday, babe,” Chad told her as he reached his hand farther down her arm, brushing it up and down and up again. Annabelle and Chad Glass had been dating on and off since middle school; they had matching rings to prove it. “And the school can go to Hell if they don’t like your decorations.”
Annabelle rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Chad. They just haven’t put them up yet. They will like tomorrow or something.”
“Then why are you making such a big deal about it?”
“Because it is a big deal! You have no idea what I went through making those decorations.”
“I just defended you!” Chad shouted, throwing his arms out in confusion.
“You just don’t get it.” She sighed. “You don’t know me at all.”
I don’t know me, either, I thought.
“I used to,” Chad said under his breath.
“Yeah,” I whispered. No one heard over the noise.
Jason Miles, wearing his shirt that matched Tyler and Chad’s, slammed into the table when he sat down. “What’s up guys?”
Annabelle slid closer to him. “Chad’s being a dick.”
“So, nothing new?” Jason laughed, and shoved a handful of fries in his mouth.
“Shut up, man,” Chad said, but he smiled at Jason. They started talking about next week’s game just as Annabelle’s friend Michelle sat down next to her.
Tyler leaned in close so only I could hear. “Think they’ll last?”
“Chad and Annabelle?” I laughed. “This time or the next seven times they break up and get back together?”
“Good point. Hey, cast is off! Nurse Anne said I’m good to go. I just have to watch myself during the next few games. Make sure I don’t play too rough.”
“You? Play rough? No,” I joked.
He punched me lightly in the arm. I was just about to punch him back when Chad slammed his hands on the table in a crash that forced silence.
“So, Jason,” Chad said slowly, his teeth clenched. He cleared his throat. “You getting pumped for the game next week?”
He nodded. “Sure.” And then, “Hey Annabelle? You’re in British History third period, righ
t? You think you could help me with my homework later tonight? I have to write this paper on World War Something and I could really use you.”
“Yeah.” Annabelle blushed. “I’ll come over your house at like nine.”
Chad gritted his teeth. “Actually, we already had plans, Jason, so I guess-”
“No, we didn’t,” Annabelle said. Her voice was high, hanging in the air like temptation. She looked at Jason and said, “We didn’t have plans. Chad doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Yes, we did!” Chad said, his words falling frantically. He stood up, and his hands gripped the table, turning white. “Why are you doing this again, Annabelle?”
Annabelle ignored him. “So, Jason, I’ll see you later tonight. I have some stuff you can help me with, too.”
“What, Anatomy?” Tyler muttered.
Jason smiled at Annabelle, and I could see them turn toward each other. Annabelle inched away from Chad, moving slowly closer to Jason until they were almost touching.
Chad fell into his seat. “You know what? I’ll come over, too. I’m in British History sixth period and could use the extra help. That won’t be a problem, will it guys?”
“What?” Annabelle whispered.
Jason coughed and sputtered, “Oh. What? Yes. I mean, no, that won’t be a problem.”
“Great!” Chad smiled. He winked at Tyler. “See you both at nine.”
Tyler cleared his throat and the table seemed to shift back to normal. Michelle and Annabelle began discussing their Homecoming dresses, turning away from Jason and Chad.
“You have a date for the dance yet?” Tyler asked me.
“Nah,” I shrugged. “Not yet.”
Jason poked me, as if he didn’t think I was real. “You should ask that new girl!”
I shook my head. I had just been starting to forget.
Jason turned to Tyler. “What’s her name?”
I opened my mouth to change the subject, hoping against everything that someone would interrupt Jason.
“Kate!” Jason exclaimed. “That’s it. You should go for her. Rumor has it she’s been checking you out all day, lucky bastard.”
Chills up my spine. I could hear the waves as they ran toward me again, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I drowned.
Tyler glanced at me and said, “No way. I heard she was some sort of crazy chick. I’d stay clear.”
I remembered her voice: Three days.
“Not her,” I said quietly.
“No? She’s hot though,” Chad said. “And the crazy one’s are always the best at-”
“At what, Chad?” Annabelle’s voice was cold, hard.
“Uh, nothing.”
“Exactly.” She looked at me. “She is crazy. I heard some weird stuff about her when I was in the office this morning.”
“Me too!” Michelle squealed. “There are rumors going around that she transferred here from Maine because she was in this coven of witches.”
Annabelle nodded seriously. “And they killed people.”
Chad snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure they did.”
Annabelle glared at him, but didn’t say anything else.
“I heard something like that too, actually,” Jason said. He leaned in like he was about to tell a secret. “Except I heard she was part of some cult in Detroit that worships the devil. I heard she’s only here to find her next sacrifice.”
Annabelle gasped. “No!”
“I knew she was too pretty,” Michelle said, pulling a finger through her mess of strawberry curls. “She probably takes baths in blood to keep her skin so perfect, like some vampire.”
Annabelle nearly screamed. “What if she’s the Bloodletter?”
“A girl? Right,” Jason laughed. “You think she’s related to Elizabeth Bathory, that serial killer countess that took baths in the blood of her victims?”
Michelle put her hand over her mouth. She slowly brought it down and, as her eyes moved rapidly from side to side, she said, “Ohmygod. Isn’t Kate’s last name Bathory?”
Tyler waved his hands in the air, mocking. He rolled his eyes and said in a high-pitched squeal, “Isn’t her last name Bloodletter?”
Michelle gasped. Her hand was shaking. “Ohmygod, is it really?”
“No, it’s Black,” Chad said. He smiled and tilted his head at Jason. “You need help with your history, huh?”
“Shut up, Chad,” Annabelle said, her lips pursed. “And how do you know her last name, anyway?”
He grinned and took a sip of his water. “Oh, you know.”
Annabelle threw her hands on the table and stood up. “No, I do not know! How do you know her name?”
“I just do,” he said.
“You tell me right now!”
“Calm down, Annabelle. I’ll tell you tonight at Jason’s. I have a feeling we won’t have much history to talk about.”
Annabelle grabbed Michelle’s arm and said, “I need to go to the bathroom.”
After they left, Chad couldn’t stop smiling.
“So, do you have a date for Homecoming?” he asked Jason. “Maybe whoever you’re taking can double with me and Annabelle.”
“I haven’t asked anyone yet,” Jason muttered. He picked at his food as Chad continued to tell him about his plans for his Homecoming night with Annabelle.
Tyler whispered to me, “Annabelle and Chad really are perfect for each other aren’t they?”
I nodded. “I’m just glad the conversation always goes right back to them.”
“Yeah, sorry. I figured you wouldn’t want to talk about Kate.”
I shrugged. “It’s just after everything she’s said today I’d rather not think about it.”
“I get that, but you can’t ignore stuff forever.”
I sighed. “I know. This is different.”
The loud, metallic sound of the bell rang through the noise. In one swift motion, everyone moved toward the doors.
“Is it different?” Tyler asked when we stood up. “Or is it just more of the same.”
My storm: Kate. Dad. “I don’t know.”
Tyler gripped my shoulder. “Well, hey. Do you want to come over for dinner tonight? No practice today. We can pretend to do that review packet for Brandt’s class.”
“Eh,” I started. I didn’t want to think about Monday’s quiz, either.
I knew I needed to think, to try and understand why my heart seemed to live and die with three thoughts: The pain of Dad, the mystery of Kate, the confusion of me. I just couldn’t seem to find a place to start. There was no middle ground, only high and low.
“C’mon,” Tyler urged. “We have to start sometime. I have practice on Saturday mornings so I can’t tomorrow.”
“All right. That sounds good.”
“Good! Meet me at my locker after school and we can just ride to my house together.”
“Sounds good,” I said, not really paying attention. My eyes were searching the crowd, looking, wondering.
Is she close?
She could be anywhere.
Tyler’s voice in my ear: “She’s not here.”
I tripped on nothing. “What? Who?” I said as he steadied me. My lips were dry with a taste of the memory of Kate. My tongue ran across them. I needed air.
“When I was in the office I heard Nurse Anne say that Kate went home sick,” he said. “Must have been right after we saw her in the hall. You don’t have to worry. She’s not here today.”
“Good,” I said.
Still, Kate’s voice haunted me, and I couldn’t help thinking about how the freckles on her face reminded me of the stars I once wished upon.
I gripped my arm, felt the warmth of my skin where my birthmark forever was, and let the wave of students carry me into the hall.
You don’t have to worry.
Let them pull me under.
She’s not here today.
Let the feelings drift away.
-Kate-
“He’s the one. I’m sure of it.�
��
A snarl. How do you know?
I said, “I saw it in his eyes like you warned.”
If you are sure, he barked, then bring him to us. Tell him what you must to get him to the compound, nothing more and nothing less.
Even over the phone Marcus’ voice begged me to obey.
I nodded. “I’ll have him to you in three days.”
Good. Three days will be enough. We cannot wait any longer than that. Is the binding spell real? Did those treasonous fools speak the truth? The boy knows nothing of what he is?
“The binding was real,” I said, choking on the words and what they meant to me. What they made me remember. Then the lie came easily: “No. I’ve said nothing to him.”
He must know what he is, Marcus said. His voice rang in my ear making blood pound in my head. Has he shown any signs of his powers?
“None that I can see. The binding spell worked.”
It’s fading too quickly if the Orieno have found him as well. Keep watching. Do what you must. Don’t let them get him. We need him.
“Yes, Marcus.”
His voice spilled out in anger. The Orieno grows stronger each day you and the others are out searching.
“Yes, I know.”
You know what will happen if we’re too late then.
I whispered, “Yes.”
I cannot protect you if you fail. You’ll be no better than them.
“I won’t fail.”
No hesitation: Do not come back if you do.
Silence.
I heard the phone’s screen crack under my grip.
Three days, I thought. Three days until I’m free.
When I was sure Marcus was gone-
I finally breathed: You are mine Calum Wade.
-Calum-
Some blurry class periods later I found myself in the last hour of the day: Newspaper with Mr. Knight. Relief painted the room in light; outside in the courtyard, the sun broke through the dark clouds and fell into the room in three beams of gold.
Light to dark and back again.
Even though I felt my thoughts poke and prod in the back of my mind, reminding me of three worries on repeat, I felt the weight of the day fade. As the class came to life, so did I. Here, I felt as close to myself as I ever could, lost in the chaos of deadlines and gossip and words that had nothing to do with me. Working on The Hollow, the real me meant nothing, and that meant everything.
