The Gateway Through Which They Came

by Heather Marie

  don’t stop to think; I step forward, bracing myself for a sprint in her direction. My face warms with the overwhelming beat of my heart, her presence throwing my emotions into a whirlwind. Mid-stride, I move my lips to call out, when a surge of pain slams through my arm. I turn in time to spot a girl in a purple raincoat rubbing her shoulder.

  “Sorry,” she says, her expression pinched from the pain she must feel in return.

  An incoherent mumble leaves my lips as I watch her enter the hall. When I turn back to the plaza, Koren’s gone.

  The haunting image of Koren plagues my mind throughout the Morning Prayer. I manage to get it together in time to say amen with the rest of the class. Mrs. Kingsley flashes a disappointed look my way, as if knowing my heart isn’t in it this morning. I don’t know where Mrs. Kingsley’s been. It’s no secret I’m not as devoted as I should be. She knows it. I know it. The whole damn school knows it. But even I can’t hide the emptiness in my voice today.

  I saw her. I finally saw her. After all this time, I hoped and wished that it wouldn’t be like this.

  Months were spent searching for Koren. A search that consisted of no one but me. Any profiles of her online had been abandoned, leaving behind pictures of friends and places she once loved. No one could ever give me a clear answer: even her supposed friends were clueless. All anyone knew is that her family up and moved. People assumed it involved some sort of family emergency. I often ask myself how that can be. How can no one know what happened to her? And now that an answer stands right in front of me, I still can’t believe it.

  The truth is too much to process. The girl who was bursting with life less than seven months ago is now a Bleeder. I can still remember our conversations. Those nights on my front porch when I’d find Koren resting along the steps, waiting for me. They were the days long after our friendship had dwindled. When it had become nothing but secretive visits in the dark.

  It’s as if she was too embarrassed to be seen with me. The kid who’d become an outcast. A freak. The things I couldn’t explain had become rumors among our friends. Everyone, except Trevor, believed the stories. That something was wrong with me.

  How does one explain that their whole life revolves around the dead?

  While I found myself cast into the shadows, Koren had marked her place in the crowd. She’d become the center of everything. Loved by everyone. And I sat back hopelessly, watching it all fall apart.

  The only thing I have left of her is that night; the last night I had her in my life.

  It was the beginning of our junior year. Portland was nearing the last of its summer days, the shift of autumn in the air. I came home from a late night on the track, to find Koren sitting casually on the porch steps. Her visits were sparse and always unexpected. So when I saw her there, after months of nothing, I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Hey,” I said, as I walked up the path.

  Her expression didn’t return my excitement.

  “Hi,” she said flatly.

  I shrugged it off. Her moodiness was something I’d gotten used to. We’d known each other long enough to sense when someone was a little cranky.

  “What’s up?” I said, slinging my backpack to the ground.

  She didn’t answer right away as I sat down beside her.

  “I just wanted to see you,” she managed to say, her eyes locked on something across the street. With her elbows resting on her knees, she clasped her hands together and rubbed her thumbs across her skin.

  I watched as her fingers clenched and unclenched, her body slowly rocking back and forth. It made me uncomfortable.

  “Are you okay?” I leaned forward to get a glimpse of her face, my smile long gone. I’d never seen her act like this before. It was so unlike her.

  She looked down at her hands, her blonde hair draped between us.

  “Hey,” I whispered, reaching to tuck the loose strands behind her ear.

  I needed to see her face. To understand what was causing this.

  She shied away from me, as if feeling exposed. I dropped my hand to the top of hers and squeezed. It was my way of telling her that I was there. That I was listening. And when she looked back at me, the porch light a hue of yellow across her face, her eyes were rimmed with tears.

  “Koren—?”

  “Why aren’t we friends anymore?”

  Her question rattled me. I didn’t know how to answer. Didn’t know the right words to say. It was something I’d been wondering myself for the past year.

  “I don’t know,” I replied. Because I honestly didn’t.

  My answer was hardly enough, and I could tell it wasn’t what she wanted. Koren bit her lip and looked up at the sky. Her tears gleamed in the moonlight.

  “We used to tell each other everything,” she said.

  “I know,” I whispered.

  I lifted my hand from hers, my touch seeming so out of place. Everything was too weird, too off. She looked back at me then, her blue eyes narrowed accusingly. It was like my hand was the cord holding us together, and when I let go, it severed us completely.

  “So that’s it then? That’s where we end?”

  I shook my head, my mouth opening and closing like a fish.

  There she was, demanding an answer from me—to fix us—and I had nothing.

  Without warning, she jolted to her feet. “I believed in you, Aiden. In our friendship. I thought you were my best friend.”

  “I am! Was. I don’t know.” What did she want from me?

  After all, I wasn’t the one that gave up on her. It was Koren who gave up on me.

  “Friends don’t lie to each other, Aiden.”

  “What are you talking about?” I could feel my eyes getting wider, her outburst taking me by surprise.

  Her face went blank, like she couldn’t believe I could be so dumb. But apparently I was, because the only thing I kept from her was my gift, and she couldn’t possibly have known anything about that.

  But maybe that was the point?

  When I couldn’t bring myself to admit it, to say exactly what she wanted to hear, she left me there. Running back to the home that was swallowing her whole. The same place she’d been afraid of for months. I let her go back there. To the home that had broken her. Changed her. A place that had been a second home to me for as long as I could remember, had become her nightmare. And I never knew why.

  That night worsened the guilt I’d had for years. The guilt for not telling her what I was. For not explaining myself. That I didn’t want to frighten her. That I didn’t think she’d understand.

  But what good did it do? Keeping it from her.

  My secret’s out now.

  Some shitty friend I am.

  After seeing Koren in the plaza today, I’m troubled with the idea of her becoming something I can’t possibly save her from. Keeping her from passing through the Gateway won’t do her any favors. No matter how badly I wish to keep her here, with me. It’s either send her away, or watch her become a menace to herself and everyone else. Becoming a Dark One means feeding off your wants and needs; their instincts are to cause damage no matter how malicious. It’s the consequence of losing touch of your humanity.

  So why would I stop myself from doing what’s right? From passing Koren over.

  I imagine the girl I knew before it all fell apart and it’s there, in my memories, that I have my answer.

  When I reach my next class, I try to clear my mind, but it’s useless. As I enter the theater, I’m relieved to find that Trevor is already seated in the third row, his usual spot away from the stage. It took some persuading to get him in this class. Fine Arts is required for two semesters in order to graduate. Being that it’s our senior year, we couldn’t procrastinate any longer. We figured drama would be an easy A. Neither considered that we might have to participate in an actual performance. I still cringe, thinking back to my part in last month’s showing of WHODUNNIT.

  Trevor is playing a game on his phone, oblivious to my presence as I seat
myself beside him. He’s slouched in his seat, looking as if he’s hiding from the skits that are about to take place today.

  “Dude,” I say, placing my backpack in the empty seat next to me. “You’re not going to believe what happened.”

  I’ve been dying to tell him about Koren since this morning, but it’s impossible to talk nonchalantly in the hallways about seeing the walking dead. He’s known about my gift ever since his grandmother’s funeral in our sophomore year—the same year Koren started slipping away. Trev’s grandma stuck around to see which deadbeat family members would come to see her off. She died by some mishap involving stairs. It was awful.

  Unfortunately, that meant Trevor finding me behind a mausoleum shaking like I’d battled a snow storm. When he tried to touch me, the tips of his fingers were singed by the iciness of my skin. Even my eyes paled with the freezing temperature. That’s how he describes it anyway. I sort of black out for a few seconds after it’s done.

  In true best friend fashion, Trevor asked nearly a hundred questions that day about my gift. He’s one of the only people who would be more upset about the fact that I hid it from him, than the fact that dead people walk through me. I’d like to think that’s how Koren would have reacted if I’d told her the truth. If I’d at least been ballsy enough to try. Then maybe it would be the three of us sitting here. Together and alive.

  Without looking away from his phone, Trevor says, “This better be epic. I’m so close to beating my previous score.”

  “Can you put your phone down for a second? I have to tell you something.” I’m nearly winded by the anxiety. I have to tell someone before I lose it.

  Trevor sighs. “Two seconds, dude. I’m about to— hey!”

  I tuck the phone between my legs and dare him to go after it. He frowns.

  “So not cool,” he pouts.

  I glance around the room to see if it’s safe to talk. A group of kids sit along the edge of the stage talking about book club, while a few others take their seats and wait for Mr. Townsend to arrive.

  Trying my best to whisper, I say, “I saw her.”

  “Who?” Trevor grumbles.

  “Her,” I say again.

  Despite his annoyance with me, I still have his full attention. I can almost see the wheels spinning in his head as he stares blankly back at me. His brow pinches together as if he’s seeing through my eyes to my brain, gathering my thoughts. And then his eyes light up. Click!

  “No fucking way!” he yelps.

  I hush him, but it’s too late. Heads are turned in our direction, and a few gasps ring out. It’s not like expletives at school are that shocking, even the sweetest girls drop one or two, but when it’s shouted across a quiet room, well, it doesn’t go unnoticed.

  Trevor’s cheeks go bright red just as the lights begin to dim.

  “All right. Who’s ready for some skits?” Mr. Townsend barrels through the theater door, and down the center aisle like a man high on caffeine. Which makes sense considering he always smells like he dowsed himself with coffee and cigarettes. I don’t think anyone is supposed to know about the cigarettes, but he’s not really fooling anyone.

  Everyone turns back toward the stage where Mr. Townsend stands under the spotlights, except Justin Chase, whose eyes linger on us a second too long. If I were Superman, Justin is my Lex Luther. It’s sort of an unspoken agreement that we despise each other for no reason other than he was Koren’s boyfriend until she disappeared, and I was her secret go-to friend whenever things were sour between them. I know more than I’d like to about that relationship.

  Mr. Townsend tugs on the waist of his khaki pants as he paces the stage. “Who wants to go first?”

  It takes a second for a hand to go up. Meanwhile, Trevor’s leg shakes, causing my seat to tremble along with it. I can tell he’s aching to talk more about Koren; almost as much as me, by the looks of it.

  “Julie! Come on up! And who’s your partner?” Mr. Townsend peers around the room.

  Julie Martin pulls her curly brown hair back into a ponytail as she stands. “Justin.”

  Seriously? I’m surprised that sweet, innocent Julie partnered up with Douche McGee Justin. It’s impossible to imagine how that scenario came about.

  Julie confidently takes the stage with Justin following her lead. He looks so tall and bulky compared to Julie’s petite frame. The church girl and the overconfident jock. Didn’t see that one coming.

  They position themselves on the stage and wait for Mr. Townsend’s signal to begin. We were each supposed to come up with a ten minute skit that showcases what we’ve learned so far this semester. Julie’s acting ability makes her a natural. Though, to be fair, she has been performing in plays for the Church of St. Christopher since she was a toddler. She always gets the lead role. Some would say it’s because her uncle is Father Martin, but in reality she’s just that good. Justin, not so much.

  “Begin,” Mr. Townsend prompts from the right wing of the stage.

  Julie and Justin’s voices carry across the room. From what I can make of it, their skit involves them portraying some old married couple, like Fred and Ethel Mertz from I Love Lucy.

  “Where was she?” Trevor whispers, leaning on the armrest merely inches from my face.

  “In the plaza,” I tell him through the side of my mouth, keeping my gaze on the stage to prevent giving us away. “I think she’s…” But I don’t finish the thought.

  It doesn’t take long for Trevor to catch on. “What happened to her?”

  “I don’t know. She didn’t look any different.”

  “No blood?” he asks with uncertainty. He knows I don’t want to think about how she died, but most of the time the site of blood does give away the fatal blow.

  I shake my head once. “None.”

  He doesn’t ask what I’ve been asking myself since I saw her. Which is: if Koren’s dead, why doesn’t anyone else know about it?

  Trevor leans back into his seat and faces the stage, though we both know our minds are on anything but what’s happening in class. Justin and Julie take their seats and another duo is called upon. I slouch in my chair. How can I possibly get through another thirty minutes of this?

  “Hey.” Trevor nudges me with his elbow. When I turn to him, he asks, “Still going to the food drive tomorrow night? You know we have to make an appearance.”

  An odd sound comes out of my throat like the very idea of the drive pains me. Which it does.

  “Yeah, I probably should. Father Williams will have a shit fit if I miss another school function,” I say.

  Before Trevor responds, Mr. Townsend’s voice snaps our heads in his direction. “Mr. Ortiz and Mr. Atkins, will you please give your classmates your attention?”

  “Yes, sir,” we say in unison.

  We straighten our backs, and refrain from talking any further. I can hardly hear what Rose and Olivia are saying on the stage, because I’m too distracted by the young boy with the torn Joseph High shirt and blood-stained face stepping out from the shadows behind them.

  This is the hardest part about what I do. Bleeders aren’t always old, or crazy redheads with some unknown vendetta. Sometimes they’re a kid who was walking across the street after school, who got taken down by an asshole who had too much to drink. Sometimes they’re people who have a family that’s still mourning them, weeks after their passing. And sometimes they’re so scared, the only thing you can do is smile at them to let them know you see them. To let them know that they’re not alone.

  riday passes like Thursday, except the rain stops, leaving behind a gray sky and the chatter of birds seeking sunlight. I keep hoping to find Koren in the plaza each passing period. It means going out of my way and being minutes late for some of my classes throughout the day, but I have to keep searching. Bleeders can sometimes find themselves attached to a specific object or area, and for Koren it could be the Statue of Mary, or Joseph High altogether. The thing is, I never really know for sure.

  Disappointment sinks i
nto me like a lump of concrete lodged in my chest. I leave campus with Evan in the backseat and Trevor riding shotgun. By the way Trevor watches me, I know he’s reading the expression on my face. I haven’t been able to get my mind off her in months, and now it’s worse than ever. In the rearview mirror, Evan is as clueless as usual, smiling to himself at the fact he lied to his mom about where we were going. He’s always up for defying his mother any chance he gets.

  As I turn down Hillsdale Highway away from the school, I ask Evan, “What did you tell good ol’ Pam this time?”

  “I told her what any mom would want to hear, that I’m helping student council set up the food drive at the coffeehouse tonight.”

  Evan finds his excuse hilarious being that we’re on our way to Trevor’s house to break into his dad’s mini bar. His dad rarely drinks what he stows away. It’s usually there for looks in case they have company. His mom’s a wine fanatic, so she’s always serving that in place of hard alcohol. We’ve been watering down his dad’s whiskey for a while now. It’s never a problem since Evan has somehow convinced his uncle to buy a replacement bottle every now and again. The guy’s a drunk so we only have to pay a little extra so he can get himself a bottle. We’d keep it stashed away at one of our houses, but it would more than likely be found by either my bible-thumping mother or Evan’s nosy little brothers.

  “She’s gonna catch you in a lie one of these days, ya know?” Trevor’s always the voice of reason, at least as far as mothers are concerned.

  I ignore him and ask, “Has your dad discovered that extra bottle of Jack hiding on his shelf?”

  “Nah. He still hasn’t noticed that the seal on his has been cracked. To be honest, I’m not so sure he would care as long as we replaced it.”

  “Sure!” Evan says, gripping the sides of the passenger seat and pulling himself toward the center console. “Why don’t you ask him? Let’s find out if you’re right.”

  Trevor’s eyes bulge out at his suggestion. “I think I’m good.”

  Evan and I laugh, and Trevor faces the window with a scowl on his face.