His thumbs come to a standstill, hovering near the screen. Slowly, Trevor lowers his phone into his lap, and turns his head in my direction.
“But you said she was—”
“I know,” I say. “I thought she was, but now…”
I can’t find the words to explain. Koren’s back, that much is true, but there’s something missing about her. A part of her that was left wherever she’d gone.
“How can that be?” Trevor is whispering now, watching for the others around us. “How could a Bleeder come back to life like that?”
“That’s the thing. I’m not so sure she ever was a Bleeder. The idea of anything dead coming back to life is impossible. I know that much. But…” I look away for a moment to collect my thoughts. “She’s not the same, Trevor. Koren’s different. Something happened to her while she was gone. I have to find out what.”
He nods, completely focused on the subject at hand. He seems as baffled as I am.
“Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll help you anyway I can.”
And just like that, whatever happened this morning is forgotten. At least, for now; I still have Evan to worry about.
I can’t say I’m surprised that I don’t find Koren in the cafeteria. Maybe it’s not my business. Maybe I shouldn’t pry. But how can I deny something is wrong? I can’t stop myself from wanting to do whatever I can to save her, from whatever it is that’s haunting her. It’s what I’ve always done for Koren Banks. The only thing I know to do.
Trevor and I search the cafeteria for Evan, but as soon as he spots us walking through the door together, his eyebrows pinch in disapproval before turning away. Considering what I did, it’s the nicest thing he could do. But I kind of wish he’d kick my ass, rightfully so, and call it a day. Wishful thinking on my part.
“Give him a day or two. He’ll cool down,” Trevor says.
“Yeah,” I say back, though I seriously doubt it.
I don’t blame Evan. How could I? Things are changing. The people around me are different. I’m different. Strange things are taking place here, in this town, in this school. I’m losing control of my life. I can feel it.
oren’s late to first period the following day. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who realizes how uncharacteristic this is for her. Though, not everyone is a creepy guy like me noting every little thing about Koren Banks. I need to focus on a hobby, one that isn’t a gorgeous girl with pouty lips and blue eyes.
The rain has calmed enough to let the track dry, and the idea of getting back to practice intrigues me. I’ve been neglectful lately. Running track will clear my mind. It always does. I make a mental note to run the track as soon as I can.
I watch from the corner of my eye as Koren slips into the desk beside me. It’s hard to stop myself from glancing at her. She’s not trying to talk to me today, and for some reason, I feel as if she’s purposely avoiding me. Had I stepped over the line yesterday?
“Let’s review last night’s assignment. Please swap your homework with a partner for correction,” Mrs. Kingsley instructs.
The class quickly begins to exchange their papers, no one giving much thought to who gets what. I wait.
“Switch with me,” Koren says beside me.
My heart quickens. Is she talking to me?
I try to keep calm, not wanting to look like a total sucker. Picking up my paper, I swivel in my seat. “Here ya—”
Koren passes her paper to Lily Pearce.
It’s like sophomore year all over again. When the rumors floating around about me made her question our friendship. When me, the guy she’d known since forever, suddenly didn’t exist. It hurts as much now as it did then. An old wound reopened.
Koren keeps her eyes on the paper being handed to her and I’m left grading my own assignment. I’m so annoyed, I don’t even bother listening for the answers. Guess I should have known things would pick up where they left off. It’s almost like Koren never left. Almost.
After fifty long, excruciating minutes, I throw my books into my backpack and get up a second before the bell rings. Is this what I get for caring too much? The silent treatment. As I reach the door, I hear my name, but I don’t turn around. Even though an ache in my chest says otherwise, I have to keep my pride intact.
The day passes like a drawn out collision. You know something terrible is bound to happen, so you brace yourself for the inevitable impact. This day can only get worse and I want to get it over with. But as usual, it’s taking its sweet ass time.
During passing period, I find Trevor and Evan in Xander Hall. Their presence brings some much needed relief. I could use a distraction right now. Of course, there’s still that little fact of me practically exploding on Evan, and that is going to take some serious forgiveness.
“Hey!” I keep it casual, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Evan will let yesterday go.
For a moment I think this could be the case, until Evan stops mid-sentence and gives a disapproving look as I approach. Talk about an awkward silence.
“We were just discussing the mysterious arrival of Koren Banks,” Trevor chimes. His face is hopeful, bearing a smile as he looks from me to Evan. I kind of feel bad that he’s become the mediator between us. It’s ridiculous and unnecessary, and it’s my fault. Trevor’s a natural when it comes to diffusing the problem. Whether it’s keeping friendships intact or hiding the truth about my gift, he’s definitely someone I can rely on. Not that I haven’t considered telling Evan, but the fewer people that know, the less chance of it getting out. Besides, somehow I doubt he’d take it very well.
I force a smile. “Yeah. Talk about random.”
I look to Evan for a response. If there was ever an uncomfortable moment between friends, this would be it. There are words that need to be said, but like a deer stuck in the headlights, I’m frozen. Completely and utterly useless.
Trevor and I look at Evan like we’re waiting for a pin to drop. For a second, I think it may be possible. He might actually let this go. Yeah, not so much. Say something, asshole, I tell myself. Apologize. Talk to him. Say something! But nothing comes.
Evan purses his lips together with frustration, as if Trevor betrayed him by forgiving me so easily. And I guess in a way, he kind of did.
“I’ll catch up with you later,” he says to Trevor, before walking away.
Evan doesn’t turn back as he hurries down the hall, distancing himself as quickly as possible. I consider chasing after him. To say something super sappy that would make him laugh, or punch me in the face. Either way, something would be better than nothing. But I can’t get my feet to move, as if this situation is so beyond me that my subconscious is too afraid to face it. Evidently that goes for a lot of things in my life as of late. I’m such an asshole.
“How long do you think he’ll ignore me?”
Trevor sighs, watching as Evan disappears around the corner. “You really freaked him out, Aiden. How else is he supposed to act when his friend nearly rips his head off? You should have seen yourself. I’ve never seen you like that.”
“Like what?”
“You were… you were scary, man.”
“Scary? How?” I need to know what they saw, what became of me when I lost myself in that haze.
Remembering the rage that erupted inside me brings back the fear. The fear of not knowing who it was looking back at them, because it didn’t feel like me. Could it have been what Father Martin saw in me during confession? The same thing that turned the Redhead to dust?
Trevor’s face is serious when he says, “You weren’t you.” And left it at that.
Throughout my next class, his words echo in my head. You weren’t you. Then who was I? What is it they could see that I couldn’t?
English is a complete bust. I don’t know what this Hamlet guy is so worried about. It’s not like he can all of a sudden kill a Dark One with his bare hands, throwing everything he once knew about himself completely out the window. I’m pretty sure he didn’t have a crush that miraculously found
her way back into his life, acting as if it’s not completely out of the ordinary to disappear for months. He didn’t have something inside of him fighting its way out like a maniacal monster.
To make matters worse, on my way to third period, I’m lucky enough to catch a glimpse of Justin Chase and Koren rekindling their undying, masochistic relationship. It’s like a scene from an 80s movie, the way he presses his palms against the lockers, Koren’s body between his arms. Her face is slack as if bored by Justin’s flirtation. Or maybe I’m making that part up because I’m pathetic like that. Whatever.
I manage to make it to theater without completely losing my mind, and without bashing Justin’s head in, which sounds appealing right about now. In a few minutes I’ll have to see his gloating face, and I’m not so sure I can stop my fist from breaking his nose.
In my hurry to get the hell away from the sight of Justin and Koren, I make it to class before anyone else. The lights of the theater have yet to be turned on, leaving a spotlight shining above the stage. It’s exactly the atmosphere I need to get a decent break before people start filtering in.
When the door clicks shut behind me, I find my usual spot and kick up my feet. I can’t wait for this day to end.
The sound of muffled chatter passes by the theater door, leaving me in a room filled with silence. I’m almost relaxed, despite the crap day I’m having. Leaning my head against the seat, I close my eyes and try to think of something worthwhile. Anything to distract myself from the craziness taking over my life.
I’m nearly in a happy place, when the once warm theater staggers to below freezing. The familiar chill glides against my skin, raising the hair on my arms. Clearing my throat as a sign of disregard, I take a deep breath and cross my feet at the ankle. I know it’s here, but I’m not in the mood. Not today.
“Leave me alone,” I tell it with my eyes still closed, keeping my focus on what little relaxation I can get.
The cold hits me harder, forceful this time. Almost as if someone turned the AC on blast. I stand my ground and refuse to give it what it wants. Will these things ever learn? I’m not a twenty-four hour Stop-and-Go. I’m not a damn cab driver that sits around, waiting to take someone home. Who the hell do they think they are?
The tremors shake me in my seat, and I’m fed up.
“Dammit! I said leave—”
I open my eyes. He stands in the row in front of me, eyes wide.
“He said you could help me,” the boy says, without missing a beat.
His shaggy hair is matted to his forehead with blood; the color of it is unrecognizable. The spotlight behind him outlines his silhouette, casting him in shadow. My eyes blink rapidly to adjust. His torn Joseph High shirt is stained with ink blots of blood. I don’t have to look to know there’s a chunk of his skull missing. This is the boy I saw on the stage before. The same boy whose candlelight vigil I’d attended days after he was killed by a drunk driver. He was a freshman, just barely. He’d only been for a few months, at least. I remember seeing him in the halls with a bunch of his friends, and on the track once or twice during gym.
Bennie Leeves.
He preferred Ben, but the guys in the locker room decided Bennie suited his tiny build. I always felt bad for him, being shorter than the others, but he took it in his stride. In death, his body is even more fragile.
I can finally make out the features of his small face: his round eyes, turned-up nose, and cherub cheeks. The hollowness of his eyes is disconcerting. They were green once, but now they’re an unnatural shade of onyx, as if his pupils dilated and consumed the life from them.
“Who told you that?” I say, grasping the arms of the chair and pushing myself forward.
“He did.”
His answer makes me shudder and look over my shoulder. I know who he means. The man the redheaded Bleeder spoke of. The man in the cloak I saw in her vision, or whatever it was she showed me. Could he be here? I carefully search through the darkened room, expecting to see the shape of a figure pushed into the farthest corner, watching. My pulse quickens, pounding in my ears. I’m unprepared for an encounter with this mysterious man. A man who has remained unknown and yet somehow knows everything about me.
My eyes squint in the dark, and find nothing. We’re alone, until the door of the theater opens and students begin trampling in. Their voices boom out around us as they enter. Frantic, I turn back to Bennie, who’s still standing in front of me. His eyes are sharp and focused on me, showing no interest in the others.
“Meet me backstage.” I snatch my bag from the floor and head down the aisle toward the stage. To prevent myself from capturing someone’s attention, I keep my head down and take long strides until I’ve reached the steps. Without looking back to see if anyone’s noticed, I climb onto the stage and disappear into the wing.
Who is he? Who’s telling the Bleeders about me? They’ve always been capable of finding me just fine. So why mention me at all? These are the questions I ask myself as I hurry to the dressing rooms.
Bennie is waiting for me. The sight of him under the bright lights accentuates the particles of shattered bone embedded in his clumped hair. One side of his head is more defined, making up for the pieces of skull the other side lacks. I can still see the tire tracks entrenched into the material across his chest. I’d be disturbed by the image if I didn’t feel so damn bad for him. Poor kid.
After taking him in, I finally speak. “Okay, tell me everything.”
He hesitates, the way a frightened child would.
“I’m going to help you. I promise, Ben.”
The use of his name brings him back to now. I didn’t know a smile could look so sad.
“They’re talking about you, you know?” he says.
“Who?”
“The others.”
I let the words settle, shuddering at the thought.
He continues. “They’re saying that a man in all black is telling them to follow you. That you’ll send us where we need to go.”
“That’s right.” I force a nod. “Why is he sending you to me? Why not the other Gateways?”
Like I mentioned before, Gateways don’t make themselves known, and for good reason. Being what we are isn’t something we can broadcast to the world. It’s not exactly something many people would understand. And even though we don’t know the identities of our own, we can still feel them. Whether their energy comes from a distance or from across a crowded room, I can’t be certain. But as I get older, their energy becomes stronger; coming and going throughout the day. Just knowing I’m not the only one makes a world of difference.
“He says the others aren’t like you. You’re different,” Bennie says.
Great. That’s what I want to hear.
“Where is he? Who is he? Can you tell me that?” I’m fighting the urge to freak out. The last thing I want is to scare the kid more, but I’m desperate.
He shakes his head slowly, his eyes downcast. “I’ve never seen him.”
Frustration consumes me. This guy is sending Bleeders my way, but why? Is he another Gateway? Is that how he knows about me?
I fall silent, considering explanations for any of this, but come up with none.
“So… can you send me away now, like you promised? I don’t want to be here anymore.” He scans the room before whispering, “The others scare me.”
At his words, I realize he has no idea what he looks like. That his injuries have followed him even in death. The sadness in his eyes put my problems aside. What more could I possibly ask of him? I made a promise. I plan to stick with it. He has no idea who sent him here, and I’m no closer to finding him than before.
I shove aside my unresolved issues and answer. “Yeah, Ben. I’ll send you home. You have to walk through me, okay?”
He nods. For the first time since he died, he looks alive. His shoulders relax and his face brightens, just a little. If this is the last thing I can do for the kid, I’m not going to make him wait any longer. I take a deep breath, br
acing myself for the iciness that’s about to surge throughout my body.
“Go ahead,” I tell him. “I’m ready.”
With careful steps, he comes closer. He’s only a step away when he pauses.
“Don’t go looking for him,” he warns.
Confusion hits me. I want to stop him, to ask why, but it’s too late. Bennie doesn’t falter as he steps into my body, melting into my skin and fading into whatever waits for him on the other side.
The pressure within me builds like carbonation trapped inside a shaken soda bottle. My fingers go numb, the blood flow stilted by the overwhelming chill. I ball them into fists, fighting to keep my blood in motion, hoping that maybe this once I can make it through an exchange without losing consciousness.
My body goes rigid with cold, leaving my eyesight pitched in blackness. The severe temperature goes to my head and I feel dizzy. I’m on the cusp of fainting when my blood pumps to life once again. The warmth spreads throughout, and I’m almost convinced I can do this. Passing a Bleeder without blacking out would be a first. At least for me. My vision blinks in and out as everything shifts back to normal, and I think: Holy shit! It’s possible.
I’m nearly out of the dark when my body jolts from one temperature to the next. Suddenly my blood is boiling. The sensation is strange and terrifying. I’ve never felt it before. A fire burns within my skin, searing to the surface. Before I can hold back from passing out, the heat intensifies tenfold. And I collapse.
Seconds before losing myself to darkness, I think one last thing:
Caging the monster is impossible, because it’s already unleashed itself upon me.
oes your friend suffer from diabetes?” An older woman’s voice speaks from somewhere beside me. “Maybe he suffers from low blood sugar.”
“I don’t think so. He does this sometimes,” Trevor answers. Nothing comes after, as if whoever he’s speaking to accepts this without question.
Someone shuffles papers and a telephone rings outside the room. It smells of antiseptic, so I’m guessing it’s the nurse’s office. The surface beneath me is thinly padded and far from luxurious. By the stiffness of my neck and back, I’ve been here for at least an hour.
The Gateway Through Which They Came Page 7
