Margo's Lullaby

by Groves, B.

  “I don’t need you to tell me what I should do,” Gabby said walking by him. “Goodbye, Dean.”

  Gabby brushed past him and walked the rest of the way from the path. She glanced back to see him standing there with his head lowered.

  She thought she heard him call her name, but she ignored the call and walked back to her house.

  Gabby unlocked the door, sniffling, and pushed it shut behind her. She closed the front curtains and slid down the front door to the floor taking deep breaths.

  She brought her knees to her chest and put her head on her knees. She lifted her head when she thought she heard footsteps nearby, but she wouldn’t answer the door.

  It was only after a few minutes that Gabby realized the music box was playing on its own.

  Chapter 6

  “Gabby…” That was all Dean could say after Gabby pushed by him on the trail when she walked away.

  He saw her turn around to glance back at him, but he couldn’t make out her expression.

  He immediately regretted everything he said, and almost knocked on her door, but when he came out of the trail, he saw she closed the curtains in the bay window, and he heard the loud click of the lock on the front door.

  Dean got the message loud and clear. He decided it was best to walk away—for now.

  Dean had a headache. He was tired and cranky. He made his way back to his truck and drove off, thinking he made a huge mistake by confronting her on the walking trail.

  The drive to school was no help. The roads were still being cleared, and people were driving like idiots.

  Just because the sun came out, didn’t mean that the ice was melted. Dean spotted two accidents on his way to work, and since he was already late to school, he had even more delays to deal with.

  He’d hear about it today.

  He couldn’t sleep the night before. Seeing Gabrielle Ryan’s car in the driveway at the end of the street made him restless.

  He felt guilty, and he wondered why.

  He had every right to still be angry. Didn’t he? Of course, he did. Gabrielle Ryan’s sister shot him. She killed other kids, and she killed his best friend.

  He had every right to be angry.

  He tossed and turned the whole night knowing she was only right down the street from him.

  He coincidentally looked out of the window the next morning and saw her go into the walking trail.

  Did he have the right to wait for her to come back and speak to her?

  At least he was giving her fair warning that this town would not take kindly to Gabrielle Ryan coming back. Her family’s pariah status would last forever here. She should leave and go back to Florida.

  Did she not understand that there would always be a call for blood from this small close-knit town?

  No matter how much he tried to ignore it, seeing her stirred—what he thought—were long dead feelings inside.

  Not even Beth did that. His longtime ex-girlfriend had been a much needed distraction after he recovered and graduated from high school.

  Beth was toxic, and their relationship wasn’t healthy from the start.

  He thought of Beth’s fall from a beautiful jade-eyed brunette to a junkie with rotting teeth trying to steal money from friends and family for her next fix.

  Dean never went as deep as Beth did. She’d introduced him to her world right off the bat, and Dean welcomed this new world while he attended college as an escape from all that happened to him.

  The parties and the new friends he made were priceless to him at the time.

  After a few years, and only hanging out with junkies, Dean became more aware that he was throwing his life away for a quick fix to numb the pain.

  After the university threatened to kick him out, his parents and sister intervened. He told them he could handle it and could get clean on his own. Thankfully, his parents knew better and sent him to rehab.

  He agreed only after he and Beth were arrested for breaking and entering.

  He tried to get Beth to come with him, and she was receptive at first, but she dropped out of rehab.

  Right after Dean completed his rehab, he found Beth overdosed with a needle in her arm. She survived and recovered for a while, and they were both happy.

  She would say it was life changing, but it was not soon after Beth changed her drugs of choice to meth, and the vicious cycle continued. Dean had to make up for his constant need for the cocaine and turned to alcohol. He barely graduated, but the alcohol ruled his life, and whenever he would try to distance himself from Beth, she would threaten to kill herself.

  Dean couldn’t find work from his past problems. He said he needed to get sober or he would never recover from the shooting or from the booze.

  He had to walk away. If he didn’t, he didn’t know what would have happened to him.

  Beth never killed herself, though she stalked him for almost a year, and there were times he almost gave in.

  The last time he heard from Beth, she'd moved in with a meth dealer.

  Meanwhile, he joined Alcoholics Anonymous

  Such a waste, he thought. Beth had been a beautiful woman with a bright future, and her dream of becoming a doctor faded away from the drugs.

  There were times Dean felt the weakness take over again, and he searches for a hit or wants a drink, but the exercise is a good outlet. His psychologist is a great guy. Dean resisted it for a long time, but found it helped him come to terms with what happened to him, and seeing Jake murdered.

  Beth was a time of his life he learned to put behind him. He loved Beth, but there was always a blonde in the back of his mind. What if things had been different that day? What if Gabby’s sister hadn’t done what she did?

  Dean pulled up into the parking lot as students and staff filed into the school for the day. All of them dressed in heavy winter clothes.

  Dean’s mind was still in a fog from lack of sleep and confronting Gabby right near their house.

  He needed to accept the fact that she now lived a few houses down from him, and it would haunt him every day while he lived there. He wondered if she would heed his advice, and go back to Florida, but she resisted, and Dean was kind of surprised how stubborn she was.

  He didn’t know if they would have any more conversations. Dean knew most of his neighbors, but they were still easily avoidable when one wanted to be left alone.

  He exited his car and remembered little after that.

  “Dean? Dean!”

  The girl was crying his name, and he wanted to answer. He did, but the pain was wracking his body. There was a pressure on his shoulder, and Dean tried to lift a hand to swap it away, but it was persistent and stayed in place.

  He struggled to open his eyes. The voice. A female voice cried his name.

  He could hear a popping noise. Kind of like a firecracker going off near him. Glass shattered, and Dean thought he smelled the mix of smoke, gunpowder, and something else… something metallic. A coppery smell.

  What was that other smell?

  His eyes opened when he heard another popping noise.

  A face was looking down on him. The features of the girl were frantic. Her blue eyes wide with fear, and another popping noise forced her face closer to his.

  He could hear her whimper in between the strange pops, her soft breath against his cheek. She was mumbling a prayer near his ear. Dean felt something wet hit his cheek.

  He saw her face when she pulled away. He knew that face well. He’d been yearning to kiss those lips for years.

  “Gab…”

  The face. She looked down at him. Her eyes sparkling with fresh tears, and what looked like red paint splattered on her face and hair.

  “Dean! You will be okay,” she whispered, but her own fear gave her away.

  Something was wrong. Something was seriously wrong. Dean struggled to remember what happened. He wanted to know what was going on. Why was he in so much pain? What was pressing on his shoulder? He couldn’t feel his leg, and his side kept cra
mping.

  What happened to him? Did he have an accident? Where was he?

  The one thing he knew was the face looking down at him. She looked like an angel, he thought trying to smile.

  “Dean, please. Hang in there. I’m here,” she said. “I’m here for you.”

  Dean closed his eyes. He was content for a moment. Whatever was happening, he didn’t care. He needed to sleep. Yes, the sleep would make it all go away

  Sleep…

  An anguished scream woke him again, and he wanted to protest. Whoever was screaming needed to stop. He stirred, and an arm around him tightened.

  His eyelids fluttered open.

  He was looking up at a chin now and wondered where Gabrielle went. She was looking down at him a moment ago.

  “Why?” The voice cried in despair. That sounded like Gabrielle Ryan.

  “Gab… Gabrie…”

  Why was she crying like that? What happened to her? Were they hurt?

  “Margo! Please stop!” Her voice sounded like she was talking through a tunnel.

  Gabrielle gasped. Dean felt her body tense.

  “Margo, talk to me!”

  The face looked down at him again. Her face and nose red, and her eyes puffy.

  “Dean…” she whispered in a voice so heartbroken that Dean wanted to reach out and touch her, but couldn’t.

  “I’m sorry,” another voice said. “I’m so sorry.”

  Another pop. Another anguished cry and all went silent.

  “Mister Walker?”

  Dean shook his head as he came out of his memories.

  “Mister Walker!”

  Dean looked up over his homeroom class in confusion. The students stared at him as if an alien possessed him.

  Dean’s eyes followed the voice. It was Molly Van Buren. The freshman with the frizzy, curly hair, coke bottle glasses who talked with a whistle through her braces.

  She had her hand raised high in the air.

  Dean cleared his throat and tried to shake off the vision. “Yes, Molly?”

  “Are you going to take attendance?”

  Dean rubbed his head. Molly’s eyes darted around in embarrassment, and Dean could hear giggles from the other students.

  “I was just asking,” she mumbled.

  Dean looked back at his homeroom class and then ripped a piece of paper from his notebook.

  “Molly, I am putting you in charge of attendance. Come up here and pass this around the class,” Dean said sliding the paper across his desk and putting a pen on top.

  More giggles and low laughter came from the class, and Molly stood, her face turning a deep shade of red.

  “Okay."

  Dean took long, deep breaths. He needed to get out of there for a few minutes. He needed fresh air.

  “Molly is in charge. I’ll be right back.”

  Molly turned to stare at him wide-eyed. Her eyes bugging through the glasses when Dean made the announcement.

  “Don’t worry, Molly. You can handle it,” Dean said, and the class laughed.

  Dean rushed out to the hallway, and he jumped when the morning announcements started over the intercom.

  He walked numbly into Dana Jenkins’s classroom. She didn’t have a homeroom class this year.

  A woman with short black hair and scars on her neck from several operations for various health problems was tapping away on her laptop when Dean walked in. She’d been a teacher there since before the Earth cooled—her words, not his—and was hated among the school students for being too strict. Dean was one of them; until he got to know her and found out she was one of the sweetest people he ever met.

  She glanced up to see Dean stumble into the doorway of her classroom.

  “Dean, are you okay?” She asked with genuine concern.

  Dean shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his mind.

  “I’m fine. Can you cover my homeroom for me for a few minutes?”

  Dana put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need anything?”

  “No. I need some air,” Dean said reassuring her. “If Michael comes around…”

  Dana's eyes flickered with annoyance. She hated Michael McConnell.

  “Don’t worry about that dickhead,” she said, making Dean laugh. “He won’t. Get yourself together. I understand.”

  Dana Jenkins was always so proper, but when someone mentioned Michael she always talked freely, and in many curse words.

  She understood. She hadn’t been injured when Margo Ryan went on her rampage, but she tried talking to her and was very brave that day from what Dean heard.

  “Thank you. Molly Van Buren is in charge,” Dean said with a snicker.

  Dana rolled her eyes. “Oh God. I better get over there.”

  Dean walked away and headed down the hallway to the custodian entrance. That was always unlocked, and no alarms went off whenever someone needed to leave the building quietly.

  Seven Hills High School sat at the edge of a small forest, and on the other side was a highway that connected Seven Hills to the rest of the world.

  On the other edge of the school started the marshes and a back bay that Dean couldn’t think of the name of. Off the distance, you could see the middle school about a mile away.

  The custodian door and office were facing the edge of the woods, and teachers snuck out there to smoke during their breaks because school property ended there. About two years ago, a teacher almost started a forest fire from smoking out there, so there was a crack down on the smoking, but that never stopped the teachers who smoked to sneak one in during the day.

  Dean kept his pack with him, though it was at least six months old, and the cigarettes were stale now.

  Today, he needed one and risked getting reprimanded for it.

  He nodded to the custodian who gave him a knowing smile and turned away as if he didn’t see Dean.

  Dean didn’t venture into the woods today. He leaned back against the building inhaling deep breaths knowing no open windows with occupied classrooms were around.

  He knew he only had minutes before his first class started, but Dana would cover for him for as long as she was needed.

  He reached for his wrinkled, and tattered pack, and pulled out the last of the remaining smokes inside.

  He lit up the cigarette with his lighter and inhaled the smoke, welcoming the nicotine that rushed through his bloodstream.

  His mind cleared, and he blinked hard to clear his vision.

  He’s always thought his memories of that day were lost in an abyss of his subconscious.

  This was the most he’d been able to see in all these years.

  And, now. Now, he was questioning what really happened that day.

  Each vision passed through his mind again. Each gunshot, each voice were coming through the static like a radio struggling to find a clear channel. What would he do if his memories came back?

  It all came down to Gabby.

  What was it about her this morning that triggered this vision? Was it her face he saw that day? Was it wishful thinking? Was she the one who was applying pressure to his wound?

  It couldn’t be. All he ever heard over the years was that Gabrielle Ryan’s sister Margo told her to run, and she did.

  Dean rubbed his eyes and took another long drag of his cigarette.

  Maybe he needed to park himself in front of his laptop and read the police report.

  Or you could just ask her, a little voice nagged at his ear like a little gnat.

  He waved a hand over his ear trying to kill the imaginary gnat and felt his nerves calming down.

  He closed and opened his eyes knowing he was back in a good enough mindset to go back to class.

  His eyes searched around the building to make sure no one was around and stomped his smoke out underneath his shoe.

  Dean froze when he heard footsteps rustling the leaves nearby.

  He dashed behind the dumpster, thinking what an idiot he was. He was only about two feet from the
custodian entrance, and he could have slipped through the door without being seen.

  Yet, something told him to stay.

  He heard a mature male voice, and his eyes narrowed when he heard a young female voice.

  He peered around the corner of the dumpster to see Michael McConnell and a student talking as they walked through the woods.

  What the hell?

  Michael stopped the young girl, Dean couldn’t remember her name and pointed his finger at her.

  Dean strained his ears to make out the words, but they were muffled from where he stood.

  The young woman nodded and put a finger to her lips in a “shh” motion. Then she laughed, and Michael still looked serious.

  “Go,” Dean heard Michael say. “Remember to keep this a secret.”

  She said something else that Dean couldn’t hear and walked away.

  Dean ducked behind the dumpster again, when Michael looked around, and Dean caught him taking a drag from a cigarette.

  Despite the cold Dean thought sweat was forming on his brow.

  If the student was being reprimanded, wouldn’t Michael do that in his office, and why would he even be out here smoking with a student, and talking to her?

  What was the secret all about?

  A strange sensation formed at the pit of Dean’s stomach. He questioned why Michael had a student outside with him during class.

  Dean tried to shake the weird feeling away. Michael was too smart for that kind of behavior. Wasn’t he?

  Michael always cared more for his reputation around the community than anyone else Dean ever met.

  Their conversation seemed uncomfortably intimate to Dean, and he realized he might have just witnessed an event that could change the course of the school.

  Dean waited a few more minutes. Standing against the brick wall as his mind reeled from speaking to Gabby Ryan that morning and now witnessing a possible student/teacher—no—principal affair.

  Dean didn’t want to jump to conclusions. He tried to talk himself out of what he saw, but the nagging doubts continued to rumble around his gut.

  The first bell rang bringing Dean out of his thoughts. He decided to keep this revelation to himself for now until he had further proof.

  Before Dean taught at Seven Hills High School, a biology teacher was convicted of statutory rape from a student who came forward a few years after she graduated, confessing to a long-standing affair.