Angels Shade

by White, L. C

  “Right here ought to do it.” He releases his hold. “Take your best shot.”

  I’m glaring into his eyes, struggling to calm down. I really want to hit him, but at the same time I want to jump, and wrap my legs and arms around his body. I’m blushing, as good Beth and naughty Beth, weigh up the pros and cons of throwing myself at him.

  I quickly lower my arm, and with velocity spin toward school. I curse his name over and over under my breath.

  “Beth,” he yells.

  I shouldn’t be acknowledging him, but I’m turning to him, like he’s pulling an invisible string tied around my damn head. He slants his view on me, his eyes have a sinful glow.

  “I dream,” he says. “Do you want to know what I dream about?”

  Well clearly I do, that’s why I’m hovering here like an utter loser, unable to speak.

  “I dream about girls.” He sniggers. “Want to hear the juicy wet details.”

  I growl out, nearly stamping my feet. On a scale of one to ten, my shame and fury are too heavy to weigh. He has no idea what I’m talking about, and I don’t know whether that is a good or bad thing. I needed some answers. But now I’m marching away from that calamitous conversation, more convinced that what is happening to me, is really in my head. My mom was right. Dr. Bennett was right. Perhaps I do need meds, before I start running around Fort Carson butt naked, declaring my love for Satan.

  Chapter Four: The Crazy

  Beth

  It is always the same. I sit on the brown leather couch in Dr. Bennett’s dark office, twiddling my fingers on my lap, preparing to do what Marcus advised, and play down my problems. But I know no matter what I say or do, he’ll figure me out eventually. He always does.

  He sits at his antique desk before a floor to ceiling book shelf, full of thick leather bound volumes on psychology, peering over his reading glasses at a piece of paper in silence. This is a trick to see how I’ll react. The refusal to acknowledge my presence as the sound of the ticking clock grows annoyingly loud. I know I have issues, but Bennett isn’t free from problems either. I know he’s an alcoholic, I can smell the whisky in here. I know he has family issues because the picture he has on his desk of his wife, is face down. And I know he’s having an affair with the blonde dimwitted receptionist outside. I’ve seen the way he looks at her, and the way he touches her. He was probably banging her bones on his desk before I got here. Maybe that’s why the picture of his wife is face down. I smirk to myself. He is in no position to analyze my crazy mind.

  “Something amuses you?” He places the paper on his desk and leans back in his chair. “Come on, it’s good to share.” He clasps his fingers together over his chest.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “So Beth, it’s been a month. How are you feeling?”

  “Good.”

  I pull my clammy fingers apart and rest them on my knees, trying not to show my anxiety. But now my damn knee has developed a mind of its own, and is bobbing erratically. I’m dying to bite my fingernail, but I know as soon as I do, Bennett will have me on meds. At my last appointment, I had control, but today my control is none existent, thanks to Tristen Blake.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Bennett says, in a patronizing manner.

  He stands up from his chair and strolls slowly to the window. I watch the back of his creased shirt as he tweaks open the venetian blinds. I find my fingernail between my teeth. I don’t know how it got there. I quickly yank my hand away from my face, squeezing my fingers once again on my lap.

  “Have you been using the diary I gave you?” He walks to his desk and perches on the edge, with his arms folded across his chest.

  “Yes.”

  “And would you like to discuss it with me?” He removes his glasses and uses the tip of his gray tie to clean them.

  I don’t want to tell him, but if I don’t give him something, he will run over the one hour session, until he pulls it out of me. I know how this works. I’ve been coming here since I turned twelve.

  “You know what is discussed in this room, stays in this room, Beth.” He smiles. “We have made so much progress already, gaining some control over your experiences.”

  “Okay,” I utter, fast. “I think you are right.”

  “How?”

  I roll my pupils around the room, taking a breath. “I had a different experience.”

  “And by different you mean in a good or bad way?”

  “I’m unsure.”

  “Okay Beth.” He pushes himself off the table and returns to his chair. “So you’re unsure. That’s progress in itself. Your own mind is trying to work out the difference between reality and delusion. Sometimes that conflict is needed to make sense of what is happening to us.”

  I hate this. I hate the fact he may be right. For years I’ve tried to understand the darkness in me. I’ve never had an indication to tell me it wasn’t real. I got used to it, and accepted it. Tristen appearing in my mind has screwed all that up for me now.

  “You saw something you couldn’t explain, something from your everyday life that tells you your sleep paralysis is in fact, a coping mechanism for you?”

  “Yes.” I sigh out a breath. “A new boy at school. I actually asked him.” I redden, thinking about it.

  “And this boy, he must have had an impact on your subconscious somehow.”

  “God no,” I yell. “He’s a jerk.”

  “Maybe, but he still has enough influence over you to make you question reality. We have been working for years on it, and this boy has achieved it in a matter of days.”

  Jeez, is he saying Tristen Blake is my savior. How do I go to school now with that knowledge?

  “I want you to roll with this, Beth,” he says. “Let’s see where it takes you. You need to understand that nothing can hurt you, and that you do have control over your mind. What is happening, is your way of dealing with what you witnessed as a child. You are at a critical point in your life, entering adulthood, and normality is key. It’s homecoming soon, isn’t it?” he asks as I release a huff. “Are you going?”

  “I don’t know,” I mumble, thinking it is none of his business.

  “Well you should, Beth,” he says in an ordering tone. “Go have fun, and do what you kids do, party. I’ll see you again in a months’ time. Remember to use your diary.”

  I walk to the solid oak door, feeling deflated. One day I would love for him to say, ‘I don’t need to see you anymore Beth. Good luck.’ But no, these months fly by, and I’ll be here again before I know it, having my mind pulled apart.

  ***

  Mom is working late tonight so I’m on babysitting duty. Usually on a Monday, Jake stays with his dad, Troy Moore. Mom dated him for a while, and Jake was an unexpected surprise. Neither of them were compatible, and didn’t even try to make a go of it. They still remain close friends, and everything is amicable, which is good for Jake.

  I wait on the landing outside the bathroom for Jake to finish brushing his teeth.

  “Jake, you finished?”

  The door flies open. “Yep.” He leaps out of the door showing me his teeth.

  “Come on, bed time for you, monster.” I rub his curly hair.

  He races into his bedroom and dives onto his dinosaur bed. He jumps excitably on his mattress, as I pray this isn’t the start of a hyperactive refusal to do as he’s told. It’s nearly ten, and Kim has been texting me for facetime.

  “Bed Jake,” I say in a deep tone. “Or Barney gets it.” I swoop up his Barney plush toy from his pillow.

  He giggles and thankfully climbs beneath his covers. I set Barney down by his side and tuck the covers around his shoulders.

  “Bethy, you sick again?” he asks.

  “No Jake.”

  “Then why do you have to go to the doctors?”

  I perch on his bed, hating the worrying look in his eyes. It’s all my fault.

  “Jake, I’m fine. I just have bad dreams, that’s all.”

  “I have bad dreams too,”
he says sweetly.

  “Yes Jake, everyone does.”

  “Will I have to go to the doctor?”

  “No Jake.” I lean over and plant a small kiss on his head. “Now go to sleep.” I stand up and make my way to the door. “Goodnight Jake.”

  “Night Bethy.”

  I yawn on my bed, flipping up the lid of my purple notebook, expecting Kim’s face to start dancing around the screen, but it doesn’t. I get myself comfortable on my front, and let out another silent yawn as I click on explorer. I shouldn’t be doing this, but screw it. I type Tristen Blake’s name in on Facebook. I scroll down looking for a Tristen from Salem, but find nothing. Strange. Who doesn’t have a Facebook account?

  An unwanted memory pops into my head. What Tristen warned me about in my dream, sleep paralysis attack, whatever it was that happened to me. I type in the words: the Shade, into the search box. All kinds of crappy information appears, nothing that gives me any answers. I have to rephrase my words, so I type down: the Shade, sleep paralysis, visions. Again information I know fills the screen. I’ve read all about the hat man, the hag, and the reaper. This is what convinced me my dreams were real. Dr. Bennett insisted that googling, is the worst mistake to make, it only feeds the subconscious. And he’s right.

  I cross the page as Kim calls me, making my heart jump. I click on her face and she appears on my screen.

  “Hey.” She beams a smile at me. “So you going to come dress shopping with me?”

  “This is why you’ve been texting me every five minutes?”

  “Yes, and to convince you to come to prom.”

  I lower the lid for a second, annoyed. She only wants me to go because she now has a date. If we stuck to the original plan, we’d be pigging out on chocolate, watching chick flicks. But who am I to stand in the way of her getting laid, it still doesn’t mean I have to go with her. I pull the screen back up to see her pleading puppy like eyes.

  “Marcus asked you,” she says.

  “Marcus is being a dick lately.”

  “Because he’s in love with you.”

  “Shut up!”

  “It’s true Beth.”

  I go quiet. We’ve been there, done that. Shit, I won’t be able to look at him tomorrow after this conversation.

  “If that’s the case, going to the prom with him is only going to create one massive complicated mess.”

  “No, you need to talk to him, set him straight,” Kim says.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I grumble.

  “I kid you not,” Kim sings. “We are a team, and there should be no bad feelings before graduation. And we should all go to homecoming together, and get wasted.” She giggles.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “And you will come dress shopping with me?”

  “I said, I’ll think about it.” I wrap my hand over the top of the screen. “Goodnight Kim.” I slam the lid shut.

  Of all the things whizzing around inside my head, she goes and throws Marcus in there.

  I slide my laptop onto my bedside table, and fling my body over onto my back. Now I face either a sleepless night, or sleep paralysis. Great!

  Chapter Five: Fallen

  Beth

  “I fuckin hate circuit training,” Kim grumbles to me.

  She’s not the only one. Not one student I know looks forward to Coach Carter’s fortnightly beastings. First, it’s the beep test sit-ups. Then the roman chair, until our thighs can take no more. Then it’s onto the ropes. It’s messy, loud, and sweaty. Usually I try to get out of it, but today Carter wasn’t going to fall for my lady problems excuse. He screamed in my damn face and told me to get changed. So here I am, with my white legs on show, listening to Kim whining at my side.

  Coach Carter marches through the gym in Mesa High’s gray tracksuit, blowing his whistle like a lunatic.

  “Partner up!” he yells like a sergeant major.

  I remain where I am, watching as Tristen Blake swaggers in. The time dwindles away as he runs his hand through his hair like a super model. I can see the tattoo that caught my eye last week in all its glory. It’s not a dragon, or a Celtic symbol. It’s not Chinese writing. It’s a very detailed rope that wraps around his amazingly toned bicep. It’s beautiful, and it’s not the only ink he has. Just above his vest, on his firm chest, I can see another. But like when I first met him, I cannot see it all, and I wonder if I ever will. I’m in a state of hypnosis. I can’t help it. Tristen Blake is wrong in all the right ways.

  Marcus jogs up to my side as Kim nudges my arm.

  “What,” I snap at her.

  “Jeez Beth. You better stop before your eyes fall out of your head,” she says, referring to my view ogling Tristen.

  “Kim, Luke request’s your presence,” Marcus says, gesturing his head toward the pommel horse.

  This now has my attention. Not once has Kim abandoned me in gym class. This means I’m stuck with Marcus. This has all been orchestrated, it’s so obvious. I glare at Kim, biting down. But she doesn’t take in my silent warning, and is now jogging in Luke’s direction. God, she’s so desperate to get into his pants, it’s infuriating.

  “Looks like you need a partner. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you,” Marcus says.

  I look around to see everyone getting into position. Everyone is paired, apart from Tristen, who seems more than willing to do it all alone. Coach Carter points to the wall bars, and Tristen takes up position with his feet tucked under the bottom bar. Right now I envy his outcast status. The Coach won’t give him grief about doing it alone.

  Marcus drops down onto the mat, waiting for me to push down on his sneakers.

  “Come on. We’re not going to win this shit otherwise.” He pats his hand down on the mat.

  Great. I’m partners with a fitness buff. I don’t do fitness, apart from running to class if I’m late.

  I begrudgingly lower down onto my knees before Marcus’s feet. I wrap my hands firm around his sneakers, wishing a sinkhole would develop beneath me, and swallow me up right now.

  “Ready. Set. Go!” Carter blows his whistle as he presses play on the beep machine.

  Marcus begins to sit. Every time he rises, he smiles as he puffs out air. The beeps soon become closer together, and Marcus is now up and down like a jack-in-a-box gone haywire. He’s grunting at me, and it’s so awkward.

  “Beth,” he growls. “Encourage me.”

  “By doing what?”

  “Words Beth.” He wheezes out, gritting his teeth.

  “I’m not yelling at you Marcus,” I hiss down at him.

  “Okay. I’ll give you a choice,” he says, out of breath. “You can either come to homecoming with me, or…” He blows out, curling back up to my face. “Scream at me right now.”

  I don’t want to do either of those things, and again he’s putting me on the spot.

  “You planned this didn’t you?”

  “Well, a man has to try.” He laughs, getting sweatier by the second.

  I completely ignore him as students, one by one, drop out. The only two now left are Marcus and Tristen. I look across to Kim. She’s lying on her mat, giggling with Luke. This class is so lame.

  Marcus’s football buddies cheer him on. I watch Tristen who is all alone, and still going strong. I don’t see a hint of exhaustion on the back of his neck. Not a drop of sweat from his hair. He’s like a machine over there.

  I turn my head and cringe, to avoid Marcus’s sweat and spit landing on me.

  “Shit, that’s it!” He slams his back down onto the mat, panting erratically.

  The whole class goes silent, noticing Tristen’s robust solid body, still crunching up and down. He hasn’t noticed all eyes are on him, or the tense hush with the odd nasty whisper. He’s in a world of his own. Wow-wow-wow. How the hell is he still going, and so fast too?

  Coach gawps at him for a second, then walks over to stop the beep machine.

  “Okay, good job Tristen. Take five,” Carter orders.

&nb
sp; Tristen stops, and as if he’s just been refreshed by the intense workout, he springs up to his feet, easily.

  “Drugs,” Marcus mumbles. “Fuckin asshole.” I scowl down at him. “What!”

  I shake my head, taking my hands off his feet.

  I managed three rounds of the beep test before giving up. I could have gone on a little longer. But if I heard the words, ‘Dig in there girl,’ from Marcus one more time, I would have kicked him in the face.

  Now I’m standing before the rope. The gym has four ropes. Tristen is on the rope next to me, and Marcus and Luke are at the far end of the gym. I close my eyes in dread. The furthest I’ve ever climbed, is just over half way up. I’m tired, embarrassed, and way too close to Tristen.

  Coach blows his whistle, and like a spider monkey, Tristen is on his climb. Jeez, he’s making me look so puny. I quickly wrap my hands around the rope, and using my feet also, I strain awkwardly to pull myself up. I wobble and sway, watching Tristen reach the top as my palms burn and sweat.

  “Come on Beth,” Kim hollers.

  I reach my limit as Tristen slides down the rope like it’s a slick fire pole. I’m just over half way up, around fifteen foot from the floor. I’m determined I can go up a little more. Growling under my breath and gritting my teeth, I avoid looking down as I reach up. But my leg grip weakens and fails, and I completely miss the rope.

  “OH SHIT!” I’m falling with my eyes closed tight, holding my breath ready for impact.

  I land screaming, not on a hard surface, but in someone’s arms. Oh god.

  “Beth… Beth. You okay?” Kim’s worried voice yells out.

  Winded, I open my eyes to see Tristen. Tristen for crying out loud, has saved me. I’ve fantasized about being held in his arms, and I got my wish in the most stupid way imaginable. I flush bright red, my heart pounding with horror and shame. He’s staring down at me with a look of horror, confusion, and awkwardness in his eyes. For a moment I feel safe and serene, curled up into his body, like I belong here.

  He allows my feet to drop down to the floor, as Marcus and the Coach hurry over.