Margo's Lullaby

by Groves, B.

  Dean pushed his thought aside when his phone rang and secretly hoped that was the school canceling classes for the day.

  Teachers never admitted it, but they liked snow days just as much as the kids but hated the fact they had to make up those days when the students were enjoying summer vacation.

  Dean didn’t recognize the number, but the area code came from Philadelphia.

  “This is Dean Walker.”

  “Hi Dean, my name is Brittany Baker from K.T.L.M. channel four news station in Philadelphia. How are you today?”

  He knew the interview requests would come again since the tenth anniversary was coming up in a month.

  He’d seen Brittany on the news station before. She was a bubbly redhead who tried to do in-depth reporting but wasn’t very good at it.

  “I’m fine, thank you,” he answered, his voice showing no emotion.

  “Great! I’m sorry for calling early, but I wanted to do a televised piece about your experience with The Seven Hills Shooting to be aired on the anniversary. Would you be interested?”

  “I think I’ve made it clear in the past that I no longer do interviews,” Dean said, not hiding his hostility.

  She was persistent. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind? I know this is a painful time for you, and—”

  Dean laughed sarcastically. Some days were unbearably painful; it wasn’t just this particular year.

  Dean noticed the car pull up to the parking lot out the corner of his eye, but turned away from the huge windows looking outside, and ignored it.

  “Sorry, but the answer is no. You could be CNN for all I care, but I no longer give interviews,” he said cutting her off.

  Dean turned towards the front door again. He turned in another direction and set his eyes on a far wall. He tried to focus on the bright colors of the advertisement posters on said wall to take his mind off the memories that were penetrating his mind.

  Dean heard two female voices in the background speaking to each other, but didn’t turn towards them.

  He turned back towards the window as the reporter continued speaking and was surprised to see Florida license plates on the car outside. It was rare to see out of state plates besides Pennsylvania or Delaware this time of the year.

  “All right. If you change your mind, let me give you my direct number, and you can call me—”

  Dean sighed. “Lady, I’ve already told you no. End of conversation.”

  Dean hit the hang-up button on his phone and shook his head.

  He gathered his phone, ear buds, towel, and water to head back to the locker room to shower and change. He needed to get a head start before traffic snarled from the snow falling outside.

  Besides, he needed a distraction. Every time one of those damn reporters called, all those moments he tried to suppress came gushing to the surface, and he was always back to square one with the nightmares, the visions, and the anxiety.

  He glanced up to the back of a woman with flowing golden locks tied back into a ponytail with snowflakes still clinging to certain spots. She wasn’t too tall, about five-foot-six, and the long suede brown jacket covering her curves.

  He heard a slight laugh out of her and heard her say she wasn’t used to this kind of weather, and she’d have to adjust to it again.

  Who the hell would want to move up here from Florida? Dean had been thinking about moving closer to his parents in Miami but decided on staying a few more years. His sister, Emma, recently married, moved to North Carolina. She said she liked it there and tried to persuade Dean to move there, saying the schools were outstanding.

  Something about her voice rang a bell in Dean’s mind.

  “Well, here you go, and welcome home,” the girl behind the desk said.

  Dean noticed the girl behind the desk had a strange look on her face, but Dean couldn’t place it.

  She smiled up at the blonde woman, but Dean could tell it turned from genuine to fake in a matter of seconds after the woman told the girl her name, which Dean didn’t hear.

  Dean looked at the clock on his phone and found it to be getting close to seven. He needed to get moving.

  He rushed past the service desk, and into the locker room ignoring the two women as they spoke.

  He had the whole place to himself, but he showered and dressed. He brushed his dark brown hair and smoothed out his goatee after doing a quick shave.

  He brought out his shirt and tie and dress pants. After one last look in the mirror, he packed up his gym bag and came out of the locker room.

  The locker rooms were adjacent to each other. He walked back into the gym and bumped into the woman who just came from the women’s locker room walking in his direction.

  The collision threw them both back two steps.

  The woman’s water bottle hit the ground with a metallic thunk, and Dean dropped his gym bag but held onto his phone.

  “Excuse me. I am so sorry,” she apologized.

  That voice. Where did Dean hear that voice before?

  Dean bent over to retrieve her water bottle that rolled to his feet. “No, no. Totally my fault.” He still hadn’t laid eyes on her face.

  He stood up and held out her water bottle. She picked up his gym bag and straightened up.

  “How did we bump into each other with this place as empty as it is?” He asked jokingly.

  “The snow blinded us,” she answered with a laugh.

  The woman straightened up and held out his gym bag.

  The world stopped when Dean set his eyes upon the woman’s face. Even in his dying breaths, he’d know her face forever and after. Time had passed, but the looks were the same.

  Round, midnight blue eyes widened in recognition, and a small gasp escaped her lips.

  She knew him too. Her hand flew to her mouth.

  Dean thought a huge boulder smacked him right in the chest. All the air left his lungs, and he tried to talk, but words—words were lost now in the far outreaches of the cosmos.

  “Dean?” She whispered.

  Dean had to say something, but what could he even say?

  He tried to gather his thoughts, but his mind was all over the place. It was already in its darkest corners from the phone call a half hour ago, but now, it sunk even further to the memories he tried desperately to put behind him.

  The darkness was the worst part. Bits and pieces of that day surfaced. The pain, the blackness, seeing Jake slumped back in his chair with a huge hole in his head, blood soaking the carpet beneath him. His eyes staring up at the ceiling, his mouth wide open in shock. The gunshots ringing out through the library, with the frantic cries of students trying to flee for their lives when one young girl decided life wasn’t worth living and wanted to take the rest of the school with her.

  That young girl was the sister of the woman standing before him now.

  The day Dean finally grew the courage to talk to the girl of his dreams, turned into his worst nightmare.

  The months of healing physically, but never mentally. The years after with the drinking, and the partying to numb the nightmares, and the visions. Partaking in drugs just to forget that day, and to drown out the seeing his best friend’s life taken from him in a matter of seconds.

  It was only five years ago that Dean decided on sobriety and became a teacher.

  He became a teacher at Seven Hills High School. It was therapeutic, really. It helped him face his demons and try to move on with his life.

  Part of the library was now an empty memorial to all the victims that day, but the spirits remained. Sometimes if one listened closely, they could hear the terrified screaming of students and faculty.

  In the months after the shooting, Gabrielle Ryan, and her family disappeared.

  Her family—not able to face the community because of the heinous act their youngest daughter committed—moved out of town after the investigation was over.

  Another emotion hit Dean when he thought of that—bitterness.

  Sheer and utter bitterness bu
rned his tongue like a hot iron. Another emotion then simmered to the surface—resentment. Bitterness and resentment over quite a few things. One of those being told that he’d never play baseball professionally because of his shoulder injury.

  The other source of those emotions stood before him now. What was she doing here? When did she arrive back in town?

  “Gabby?”

  Gabby and her family slipped out of town in the middle of the night going into hiding. Somehow they eventually packed up their belongings and left Seven Hills forever.

  Nothing. Nada. Her family ran away, and Gabby left with them.

  Dean was furious. He never wanted to see her again, and now they bumped into each other in a gym.

  They were still holding each other’s belongings, and in an attempt to make clear his feelings towards her, he ripped the bag from her outstretched hand. If words failed him, then he could show her in another way. He needed her to know about the pain he endured over the years, and how she and her family walked away from their responsibility of facing a community that now loathed them.

  “What are you doing here?” He asked. His bitterness like a poison dripping from his words.

  Gabby flinched and took a step back. “I just moved back into town.”

  It was ironic. Dean had been so shy in school around her, and this was the first time he looked Gabrielle Ryan in the eyes, and this was the most conversation they’d ever exchanged.

  “Why?” Dean asked, incredulous at her revelation.

  Gabby hesitated but didn’t answer. Her face expressed remorse and sadness.

  Dean wanted answers. He wanted to know why her family never spoke about the shooting except a cryptic apology sent out through the news sources to the victims and survivors.

  Five students died that day, and ten more were injured before Margo took her own life.

  He needed to know. He needed to know why she left, but not today.

  He was too upset to speak to her now. He needed some time alone, and God how he wished he’d get that phone call about school being canceled, or maybe the distraction would be good for him. His mind kept going back and forth like a ping pong ball in the arcade.

  Not now, he thought. No, he couldn’t face her now.

  Even with all those feelings, he still thought she was beautiful standing there in front of him.

  “Dean, maybe we can talk,” Gabby suggested.

  Dean shook his head. Not today.

  “I have nothing to say,” he answered, his voice more venomous than he wanted it to be.

  Gabby looked up at him with desperation. “Please.”

  Dean shook his head again. He closed off every emotion he was feeling about Gabrielle Ryan at that moment.

  “No—no. I don’t want to talk to you. Not now. I can’t look at you now.”

  He handed Gabby back her water bottle, and without so much as a goodbye Dean walked away.

  He reached his Ford truck, threw his gym bag into the back seat, and backed out of the parking space into the street faster than he should have.

  His truck fishtailed when he changed gears into drive, and Dean took a deep breath, trying to calm his emotions because he needed to be alert in the snow.

  He slowed to a stop at a red light and laid his head against the steering wheel trying to get the memories in check and place them where they belonged—at the back of his mind.

  He looked up to see the red taillights coming into focus from the car in front of him again, and his shaking body eased.

  Dean only moved the truck again after the light turned green, and the car behind him blasted his horn.

  “Asshole,” Dean muttered, looking into his rearview mirror.

  All the old emotions came again. The happy ones before the shooting. The ones he didn’t want to hold onto from his bitterness and resentment. The happy ones were hard, but the bitterness and the resentment were easier to hold on to. They kept him straight. They kept him from feeling and remembering everything he wanted to say to her.

  But, no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t deny it.

  He didn’t hate her. He couldn’t. He tried for so many years, but hate was never in the cards. Was he bitter and resentful? Absolutely. But, hate was not an option.

  Those old feelings struck him in the chest—hard. He couldn’t even think about it. How could he be like this after all these years?

  Why didn’t his feelings for her ever go away?

  Chapter 3

  Gabby stayed in the same spot long after Dean stormed out of the gym.

  Her surroundings blurred in her peripheral vision as her mind reeled from seeing him after all this time.

  Her water bottle fell from her hand and hit the floor with another metallic thunk.

  Never in a million years did she think the guy who’d been the only other person in this gym today would be Dean Walker.

  The hazel eyes, the rugged good looks, and the spiky dark hair were unmistakable.

  He’d grown a thick brown goatee.

  He was muscular in high school, but now, his muscles protruded the dress shirt he wore when he exited the locker room.

  He was as handsome as ever.

  “Hey, are you okay?” The front desk girl asked bringing Gabby out of her thoughts.

  Gabby’s vision cleared at the sound of the girl’s voice. She forced her thoughts back to the present to answer her.

  Gabby shot her a slight smile and said, “Yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry.”

  “No—no need to apologize,” the girl smiled. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  Gabby sighed and looked out of the huge windows. The snow was getting worse, and Gabby knew her quiet workout this morning was a lost cause. She might as well head home.

  “Yeah, I… um… sometimes,” Gabby stuttered, as she picked up her water bottle again.

  The girl gave her a sympathetic glance. “I know it must be hard coming back here.”

  Gabby had to admit she appreciated the sympathy. Sympathy she could appreciate, pity was another monster she couldn’t deal with.

  “It is and don’t worry I’m used to it.”

  “At first, when you checked in… I don’t know… I guess I expected something different, and—”

  Gabby reassured the girl. “No, please. There is no need to explain. Like I said I’m used to it.”

  “Why was Dean such a jerk to you? He’s usually the nicest guy in here,” The girl inquired.

  Gabby surmised the front desk girl couldn’t have been over nineteen and probably remembered little about the tragedy. She could tell it was an innocent question on her part. Gabby had learned over the years those with motives against her and her family, and those were genuinely curious about the day.

  “The day.” That’s what Gabby nicknamed it over the years. The day their lives changed forever. So many unanswered questions, and that’s why she came back to Seven Hills, so she could find those answers and put Margo to rest. Gabby called it “The Day.” What else could she call it? The tragic day? The lifelong nightmare she could never wake up from? That was too long, wasn’t it? Or how about the day her own sister took five lives and injured ten others? Maybe, refer to it as the rarity of a young girl committing mass murder? What?

  It’s what everyone asked. What made Margo different? These questions would surface every time another one would happen. After Sandy Hook, a documentary maker somehow found her private phone number and called. Before she could get in a word edgewise, he was grilling her about her thoughts on Adam Lanza.

  What made Margo tick? Experts chomping at the bit to know. She was a rarity, and all they ever wanted was their moment of fame to go on television to show the world they solved the Margo Ryan mystery.

  “We have a history,” was all Gabby would say. “I better go.”

  The girl went to ask another question when the phone rang. The girl smiled and said, “Hopefully, that’s my boss, and I get the rest of the day off.”

  Gabby laughed, and headed
to the locker room to change out of her gym clothes, and back into her street clothes.

  She wasn’t used to driving in the snow, and thankfully, the house she was renting was only a few blocks away.

  Gabby sat on the cold, metal bench inside the smelly locker room. The mixture of sweat, bleach, and different soaps created an unpleasant odor. Her eyes hurting from the garish yellow paint splashed on the concrete walls. The lockers were a deathly gray color, and Gabby struggled to fit her gym bag inside of one of them.

  This place was new from what she remembered when the family moved away, and most of Seven Hills was barely recognizable when she drove back into town just the other day.

  A brand new mall on the outskirts of town where a thick forest used to be, and one where Gabby and her old friends played when they were young, pretending it was enchanted with unicorns and fairies. Or they would turn it into a horror movie and think the Jersey Devil was after them. Gabby’s lips curved upwards from the memories.

  Seven Hills was located not far from the beach, and its own boardwalk. Gabby hadn’t driven towards the shoreline yet but heard how much the surrounding area had grown over the years. Seven Hills was a beach resort and a historical area around this part of New Jersey.

  Neighborhoods of Victorian era homes were scattered amongst the more modern homes and turned into small hotels and bed and breakfasts to attract tourists during the summer months.

  Big box stores and strip malls were the new normal in the area, and Gabby thought with all the new upgrades, her hometown had lost the charm it once held as a quiet vacation resort for most of the regular visitors.

  Homes were built where other forests used to be, and Gabby found herself lost when she entered town because some roadways had changed.

  Gabby tried to get up from the bench, but her thoughts turned to Dean.

  The gunshots rang out through the library. Gabby wanted to scream, but the only sound that came from her lips was a small sound of strangled fear.

  Chaos ensued as students, and faculty ran for their lives. Gabby tried to move, but the fear and confusion had her firmly planted in place.