The Locker

by Richie Tankersley Cusick

  “I love him, you know.”

  She wasn’t joking now, I could tell. She wasn’t smiling anymore, and she was very serious.

  “I know,” I said.

  “Not romantically, you understand,” she said quickly … too quickly, I thought to myself. “Tyler would never see me that way. We’ve grown up together. We’ve been buddies for too long.”

  I nodded. I saw the way she looked down at her shoes scuffing through the dirt, and I saw the way the corners of her mouth moved in an uncertain frown.

  “Anyway, here’s the thing. Tyler’s going to get away from this stupid town.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, almost defiantly. “Yeah!” She smiled. “Tyler’s going to get away from here and do great things!”

  “I believe that,” I said sincerely.

  “He’s going to get a scholarship, did you know?” Noreen went on proudly. “All the teachers are rooting for him—he’s got so much support around here. He’s going to get it.” She nodded again, her voice adamant. “He’s got to get it.”

  She ducked her head again and quickened her pace. She raked one hand through her hair and gave it a brisk fluff with her fingertips.

  “And what about you?” I asked quietly. “What are you going to do when you graduate?”

  “Oh, you know”—she laughed, kicking at a rock in her path—“stay here. Open a beauty shop.” She saw my look of disbelief and shook my arm again, more roughly this time. “No kidding—I love to do hair! I mean, look at this—” She ruffled her own curls. “Absolutely nothing to work with—all frizz. So I have to get vicarious pleasure from doing other people. I mean, we’re not talking just your friendly neighborhood old-lady perms here—I’m talking big time! Tanning salons … makeovers … fake nails … even massages!”

  “I’ll come.” I grinned at her. “I could sure use a complete overhaul.”

  “Unless Jimmy Frank asks me to marry him,” she added, casting me a glance that was both wistful and mischievous. “And then I’ll move out to his farm, have ten kids, and milk cows.”

  We stared at each other and burst out laughing.

  “Ten kids!” I exclaimed, and she leaned toward me conspiratorially.

  “You have to understand the process that entails.” She tried to keep a straight face. “It’s a nightly ritual that requires complete and selfless dedication.”

  Again we laughed uncontrollably, not stopping till we reached the athletic field. Noreen spotted the boys at once, perched on the bottom row of bleachers and having an intense conversation, by the looks of it. They broke off as we walked up, and I thought both of them looked kind of uneasy. I had this feeling we’d interrupted something important, but of course I was feeling so paranoid by that time, I knew I shouldn’t trust any of my feelings.

  Still hanging on to me, Noreen stopped right in front of Tyler and gave him a sly smile.

  “Look who I brought,” she cooed, and Tyler’s face flushed, though he was trying very hard to look like he hadn’t heard her. I could have died.

  “Is that your head, Noreen?” he asked casually. “Or is the moon out early?”

  Beside him Jimmy Frank stood up and started walking back to the main building. After a brief shoving match, Tyler and Noreen followed, and I trailed after them. We hadn’t gone far when Jimmy Frank started to lag behind and eventually fell into step beside me, but the others didn’t seem to notice and kept on.

  “Thanks again for helping us,” I offered, but he didn’t really seem in the mood for conversation. His face was grim, and there were hard white lines around his mouth.

  “Did you take anything out of my truck yesterday?” he asked abruptly.

  I stared at him in surprise. “Like what?”

  “Just tell me—you either did or you didn’t.”

  “Hey, I’m not in the habit of stealing things, okay?” I snapped. I couldn’t believe his attitude—not when we’d found such common and important ground yesterday, and I’d actually begun hoping he could help me figure things out about Suellen.

  He looked like he was going to snap back at me, but then thought better of it. Without a word he strode off and disappeared into the building, leaving me to stare after him with a sick feeling in my stomach.

  I didn’t understand what was going on.

  I didn’t understand anything anymore.

  I was so glad when class ended that day. Jimmy Frank’s accusation had left me in a surly mood, and I didn’t even feel like talking to Noreen about it, so I wasted time in the girls’ bathroom till I was pretty sure school had cleared out. There was that unnatural kind of hush in the corridor as I walked to my locker. From somewhere upstairs I could hear the low murmur of teachers’ voices as they drifted out of empty rooms, and then their muffled footsteps coming down and going out the front door of the building.

  I stopped and looked nervously behind me.

  Empty.

  Just a long stretch of deserted hall.

  I quickened my pace and hurried on to my locker. I shifted my books to one arm and nervously fiddled with the lock. I yanked at the door, and it came open easily in my hand.

  At first I thought I was seeing things.

  I stood there, eyes riveted on the inside of my locker, and everything was moving—sides—top—bottom—everything—breathing and bubbling and squirming, as if the whole locker had suddenly come alive.

  And then it began to melt.

  Little pieces coming apart like scabs falling, flaking, flowing right out the door—

  Right onto me …

  And yet I knew better.

  I knew even though I couldn’t make myself believe it—I knew even as the dark brown pieces of my locker broke apart and spattered out onto the floor and streamed over my shoes and my hands and up the sleeves of my sweater and into my hair—

  I didn’t even feel them.

  I was someplace else now.

  Someplace dark and secret where I couldn’t move, couldn’t see, couldn’t call for help, just me and the roaches swarming over me, the maggots gnawing my eyes, the worms crawling out of my mouth—someplace dark and small and silent and not so very far away, and I was there, and I wasn’t alive, and I wasn’t even me …

  I was Suellen.

  21

  You have a fever,” Aunt Celia said, laying one hand on my forehead, using the other to hold a thermometer up to the light. “Not much of one, but still …”

  “I’m just tired,” I whispered. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  “You forgot to pick Dobkin up after school,” she said patiently. “You were walking in the opposite direction when I drove by. You didn’t even notice I got the van fixed.”

  “Tired,” I mumbled again. “If I could just sleep …”

  I saw her concerned expression … felt the soft, steady coolness of her hands upon my face.

  “Tyler asked about you,” she said with forced cheerfulness. “He saw you when we got home, but you weren’t in the mood to talk to him. He said to tell you hi.”

  I closed my eyes. I lay very still.

  “Let me help you, Marlee.” Aunt Celia smiled sadly, but I shook my head and turned over and buried my head in the pillow. There was a long moment of uncertain silence. I thought she might stay after all, but finally I heard the door close and her slow footsteps fading down the stairs.

  Roaches … hundreds of roaches crawling all over me …

  “They were real,” I whispered to myself, “weren’t they?”

  I thought they’d been real—they’d seemed real as I’d stood there in the hallway and felt them scurrying over my arms and up my neck—as I’d heard them pattering down onto the floor—as they’d raced into cracks and crevices to hide themselves in the dark hollows of the old brick walls.…

  But they wouldn’t be there tomorrow.

  With grim certainty I knew that by tomorrow there’d be no trace of them, and even if I told someone, nobody would ever believe me because there’d be no proof it had ever h
appened.…

  So maybe it wasn’t real after all.

  Maybe I imagined it—dreamed it—saw it in my mind just like I saw Suellen’s face and smelled her fear and felt her death and aloneness …

  I slept a deep and dreamless sleep.

  I slept without thinking, without feeling, black and empty and merciful.

  The room was filled with night when I finally woke up. There was no moon. No starlight sprinkled the sky beyond the windowpane, and a damp, chilly breeze filled the room with dread.

  “Aunt Celia?” I whispered.

  For just a moment I thought I’d heard something at the window. For just a moment I thought I’d seen a shadow crouched there beyond the sill.…

  The house was very quiet.

  My eyes sought out the clock on my bedside table, and I was shocked to see that it was just after twelve.

  There it is again.…

  I bolted upright, my heart pounding, the sick taste of fear in my mouth.

  Something outside my window …

  Slowly I pushed back the covers and got out of bed. I took one step, cringing at the coldness of the floor on my bare feet. My nightgown billowed out around my ankles, and I clutched it close to my body, trying to stay warm. I tried to call out, but my voice had gone. Trembling violently, I forced myself to walk several more steps until I had a clear view of the window and the darkness beyond it and the massive old tree clawing at the glass.

  There’s no one out there. I’m going to prove it to myself once and for all—I can’t go on being afraid of my own shadow every time I turn around.…

  I crossed the last few feet and took hold of the window. I felt weak and unsteady, but I shoved till I got it open. For several seconds I leaned out upon the sill, taking deep gulps of cold night air, waiting for my dizziness to pass, and right then and there I made up my mind to ask Aunt Celia to move.

  I’ll do it tomorrow. Before I even go to school. She’ll know I have a good reason for it.… She’ll have us out of here by the weekend, and I’ll never have to hear of Edison or Suellen Downing again.

  Having come to a decision about it, I felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I straightened up and felt the chill melt from my bones, a quick surge of heat replacing it. I leaned out farther from my window and lifted my hair up off my neck, and then I closed my eyes and turned my face into the cool, cool breeze.

  I stayed that way for a long time.

  I stayed there, and I let the tears come, and it didn’t matter that I was crying, because there was only the darkness and the deep, deep quiet and no one to hear but me.

  At last I lowered my head and gave a final sob.

  Then I stared out through the tangled limbs and into the soft, silent shadows.

  I never expected to see the eyes staring back at me.

  I never expected to see them there only a few feet away, or the branches pulling slowly apart around them, or the long silhouette uncoiling itself from the rest of the tree—

  My mouth opened in a scream, but before I could get it out, a hand clamped down over my lips.

  “Shhh … do you want to wake the dead?”

  “Tyler!” I screamed anyway, muffled as it was, behind his fingers. “Tyler, what are you doing!”

  “If I take my hand away, you have to promise you won’t make any noise,” he said patiently against my ear. “Promise?”

  “What are you doing?” I demanded again.

  There was a long, hesitant silence.

  Then, “Watching you,” he said softly.

  I stiffened in his grasp and tried to twist free, but he was too strong.

  “It’s not what you think,” he insisted. “I was worried about you, that’s all. Now will you promise to be quiet so I can let you go?”

  This time I nodded. I felt the pressure ease on my mouth, and his hand slid away.

  “Tyler—” I began furiously, but he held his finger to his lips to shush me.

  “You’ll stir up the whole neighborhood,” he warned. “You’ve got to be still.”

  “What are you doing hiding up here in this tree!”

  “What are you doing crying up here in this tree?” he countered.

  I got quiet then. He was looking at me so intently that I finally had to drop my eyes.

  “Come on,” he said, reaching out to me.

  “What? Where are we going?”

  “Never mind, just come on. It’s okay—I won’t let you fall.”

  I saw his arms reaching out to me … I saw the encouraging nod of his head. After a long moment I held out my own arms and felt him gather me up against him and lift me out over the windowsill.

  “Tyler—”

  “Shhh … don’t be afraid.…”

  “What if we fall—we’re up so high!”

  “We’re not going to fall—I come up here all the time.”

  “But, Tyler—”

  “Don’t worry, Marlee, you’re safe with me.”

  I put my head against his shoulder so I wouldn’t have to see the ground far below. He kept his arms tight around me, maneuvering almost effortlessly through the branches. I knew we were moving farther and farther out on one particular limb away from the house, and when Tyler finally stopped and lowered me down, I realized I was cradled in the protective circle of his arms.

  “Tyler,” I tried again, but he sighed and gave me a gentle shaking.

  “Trees help you think,” he said matter-of-factly. “They’re good for the soul.”

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  “Stick with me, and there’ll be lots of things you won’t believe.”

  Once more I felt his lips move upon my ear, and I tried to suppress the shiver that coursed through every vein in my body.

  “Cold?” Tyler asked and held me tighter against him.

  “Why are you doing this?” I mumbled.

  “Why not?”

  “What if someone sees us up here?”

  “No sensible person would be up at this hour spying on trees. Will you relax?”

  Again his arms tightened around me. I could feel the warmth of his skin, and the calm beating of his heart through his shirt. I could feel his hair soft against my cheek, and the touch of his chin as he rested it lightly on top of my head.

  “Tell me why you were crying,” he said quietly.

  I didn’t answer right away. A thousand emotions shot through me, all too painful to go into.

  “Tell me,” he said again.

  “I guess … because I was tired.”

  “And I guess … that’s not really the reason.”

  There was a smile in his voice, and his lips vibrated softly against my ear.

  “Do I have to do something drastic to get you to talk to me?” he murmured.

  I felt his head lower. I felt his mouth barely nuzzle against my shoulder.

  “You are cold,” he scolded gently. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”

  And I didn’t mean to say it, but it came out before I even realized. “I’m so scared,” I whispered.

  “Of me?”

  I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know.

  “Of me?” he asked again.

  He tilted my face back. His lips brushed my forehead, my eyelids, the tip of my nose. I caught my breath in surprise, and he was kissing my cheeks now, my ears, and as my pulse raced out of control, his lips covered my mouth, gentle yet demanding. His fingers smoothed my hair back from my face and traced down each side of my neck, and as I trembled violently beneath their touch, they slid slowly down my arms … and up again to my shoulders … then down once more, finally slipping around my waist, where they stayed.

  Pressed against him, I moved my head upon his chest and felt his cheek touch mine. His breath was soft and calm beside my ear, but his heartbeat had quickened to match my own.

  “Marlee …” he whispered, “what is it?”

  And I didn’t want to cry—told myself I wouldn’t—but his touch was so tender and his v
oice was so kind …

  “It’s Suellen,” I choked. “No matter how hard I try to shut her out, she won’t go away. I keep finding out things about her that I don’t want to know.”

  A cold breeze swayed the branches above our heads. Tyler’s hold around me tightened.

  “What kinds of things?” he finally asked.

  And every instinct was warning me not to say anything, not to tell him what I’d discovered—he’ll think you’re so weird—he’ll never want to be with you ever again—but I felt so warm, so safe inside his embrace—safe like I hadn’t felt in such a long time.…

  “I know Suellen’s dead,” I said quietly.

  I waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. As the minutes dragged by, a muscle clenched slowly in his cheek, and the line of his jaw went rock hard.

  “Tyler?” I whispered.

  “How do you know she’s dead?” He seemed to have trouble getting the words out, and I reached up to touch his face.

  “I can’t really explain it to you. It’s just that I see things … feel things. They happen, and I can’t stop them.”

  “But you’re … sure … about Suellen? You’re sure she’s really dead?”

  “Yes,” I said sadly. “I’m sure she’s dead, and I’m pretty sure her body’s hidden somewhere close to here.”

  He gave a start, as if the corpse of Suellen Downing might suddenly materialize out of the darkness.

  “Where?” he asked sharply, but I shook my head.

  “I don’t know, exactly. But near here—near this town. Somewhere.”

  “Have you … told anyone?” he murmured. “The police?”

  Again I shook my head. “Who would believe me? I know how all this sounds—I can’t even expect you to believe me. I don’t have any kind of proof—who’s going to listen?”

  He seemed upset. I could feel the tenseness of his muscles as his hands locked around my waist. Turning my head a little, I could see his wide dark eyes fastened on the night sky above us.

  “What’s it like, Marlee?” His voice was low, his lips barely moving as he spoke. “When you get those feelings? When you know all those things?”