PANDORA

by Rebecca Hamilton

  “Move over,” I grouch.

  Jason’s eyes are full of worry. It makes them even darker. His hair, a soft russet color, makes them stand out even more in the harsh fluorescent lighting.

  “This is your sister?” one of his friends ask incredulously.

  “Yeah.” Jason glowers at all the boys staring at me. “Don’t get any ideas either. I don’t let just anyone talk to her.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Problems, Blue?”

  Jason’s best friend, Tom Wallace, grins at me from the other side of the table. The old nickname makes me smile. He’s called me that since I was about four. Tawny locks fall into his brown eyes as he smiles at me. Like Jason, he has a football physique. Tall and muscular. Built to do some damage on the field. He and my brother have been best friends since pre-school.

  “You mean aside from being the most talked about person at Adam’s High?”

  “Aside from that,” he laughs at the sarcasm in my voice. “Why are you limping?”

  “Banged up my knees while I was running,” I tell him, trying not to look at him. Tom has always made me nervous. There’s an intensity in his eyes I’ve only ever seen in one other person’s when he stares at me. The insane urge to stand up and bolt from the room grips me. Somewhere in the back of my mind something stirs to life and I wonder if he will give chase. Do I want him to? Then my eyes focus on Devon’s raven locks in front of me and that same part of me wants Devon to give chase. But who did I want to catch me though?

  Devon or Tom?

  Hmm . . .

  “When did you do that?” Jason demands.

  “Yesterday.” My tone leaves no room for questions. Jason knows I was fine when I went to bed. He nods, but his eyes promise that I’m going to get grilled when he gets home.

  “So what’s up with those two?” Tom waves in the general direction of the table I’d just left.

  “They’re idiots.”

  Tom laughs at my disgruntled tone, but he says no more and lets me eat in peace and then is nice enough to dump my tray for me. Jason’s eyes narrow. When the bell rings, the both of them escort me to my next class. Jason is starting to look murderous by the time they drop me off. He’s not blind. Neither am I. I can see the appreciation in Tom’s eyes.

  I sigh and go into Calculus. My head is pounding, my knees throbbing, and there sits Devon and Morgan still glowering at each other. Saidie is amused by it all.

  I just want to get through the end of the day and go home.

  Mr. Rawlings announces a pop quiz. Could this day get any worse?

  Chapter 7

  There is a note from Emma on the kitchen table to say she will be out for the evening and that Dad is going to be out with friends as well. Ha! If they expect either Jason or I to believe that hogwash they really are naïve. It’s Friday. We know they go to the movies on Friday night. They just go to the cinema three towns over to be less conspicuous. I so wish they’d come out of the closet and just fess up. It’d make their lives easier, but then again, maybe the sneaking around is part of the charm of their relationship.

  I have the house to myself. Jason will take a shower at the gym after practice and then go meet up with his latest girlfriend. He’ll be out for hours. A grin spreads over my face and I bolt upstairs to change into my penguin pajamas and pull my hair into a ponytail. I’m going to veg out and relax. My mom forgot to take her collection of old Dorris Day movies when she left and I have a fondness for them, especially Pillow Talk. It’s my all time favorite movie. Rock Hudson and Dorris Day are not the typical teen movie, I know, but it’s the one thing I have left of my mom and I watched them incessantly growing up.

  I wonder if I can wheedle someone into delivering a pizza to me. Pop’s Diner makes great pizza’s, but I’m in my jammies and I don’t want to change clothes or drive back into town. My stomach is craving pizza though. Maybe Emma has one in the freezer I can pop into the oven. The fridge yields no pizza, but I do grab a can of Coke and snag a bag of chips from the pantry to tide me over. Dad has a home theater couch in the media room and I take full advantage of the reclining end after I push play on the DVD player. I just need to spend a little me time after the trauma of the last two days.

  The doorbell rings.

  GRRRRRR.

  So much for me time. Maybe I can ignore it. I’m in my favorite pj’s and answering the door dressed like this could be a bit embarrassing. Could be my new neighbor . . . hmm. Oh God, definitely embarrassing and so not gonna happen.

  Answer the door, the voice in my head laughs.

  Crap, not again. The panic starts to creep back in. Why do I have to start hearing voices now, after all this time? It’s not fair.

  The doorbell rings again followed by a loud knock.

  No way am I answering the door. It could be something I’m hearing in response to the voices. I’ve read about this. I’m not giving into the delusions. I refuse to be crazy.

  “Bess, you home?”

  That shout I recognize—Morgan. I jump up and when I get to the door, I look through the peephole and sure enough, Morgan is standing on my porch holding a pizza box.

  I unlock the door and crack it open just a bit.

  “Hey,” he grins at me, that perpetual laugh in his eyes. “I wanted to apologize for earlier and figured I’d bring pizza and some pop to make it up to you.”

  I frown at him and listen hard for any sign of voices in my head, but they are silent. It’s only me and Morgan and . . . pizza. I can smell the divine aroma wafting from the box. My stomach growls and he laughs.

  “So, can I come in or not?”

  The pizza makes up my mind for me. I step back and let him in. “Shoe’s off. You track up Emma’s floors and she’ll hide you.”

  He puts the box on the coffee table and sets the two liter of Coke in the floor. “Plates?”

  “I’ll get them.”

  I snag two plates and two of Emma’s plastic oversized glasses we use on pizza nights and then go back to find Morgan propped in the middle section of the couch. He’s actually grinning at the phone conversation taking place on the screen.

  “Here,” I hand him a plate and a glass before diving into the box. It has all my favorite toppings and my stomach growls again. Morgan is pouring drinks so I dump two slices on the plate he’s got balanced on his lap.

  “What’s this?” He nods towards the screen.

  “Pillow Talk,” I say and then bite into the cheesy mess and sigh out loud.

  “It’s funny,” he says around a mouthful of pizza.

  I laugh at the obvious surprise in his voice. Most kids our age have never even heard of these old movies from the sixties. “It’s pretty old.”

  “This is a nice place.” His eyes are transfixed to the PS3 and the mountain of games beside it. Dad, Jason, and I are all video game junkies. We have everything from Call of Duty to Rock Band.

  “So you like old movies?”

  “Not all of them. This one is from my mom’s collection. I grew up watching a lot of the old Dorris Day movies. Weird, I know.”

  “Nah, not weird, just different. Your parents not home?”

  “Dad’s out for the night.”

  “And your mom?”

  I sigh. I hate it when people ask me about my mother. It’s a touchy subject.

  “My mom left us a long time ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No worries, I got over it.”

  “You don’t sound over it, Bess.” His eyes are full of concern and questions. “What happened?”

  My eyes close and I try to find the words to tell him to bugger off. He did bring me pizza and I don’t want to be a jerk, but I don’t really know him well enough to tell him about my mom.

  “My mom and dad died when I was six,” he tells me suddenly. My eyes snap open and back to him. “They were in a plane crash. My grandfather raised me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No worries,” he winks at me. “I’m okay. Granddad
made sure I was loved and it’s not so bad anymore. I still miss them, though. I was only six when they died, but I remember them. It really does helps to talk about it. Promise.”

  “That’s what everyone always says, just talk about it, it’ll get better.” Even to me, I sound bitter. It isn’t as simple as telling him about my mom. My mom leaving is what screwed me up. It broke something inside that I’m not sure can ever be fixed. I hate her.

  Morgan tucks his feet under him and waits.

  Honeysuckle surrounds me. The faint scent of dirt, leaves, and the musty smell of the forest invades my senses and I relax. Morgan has such a calming effect on me. It’s bizarre, bur I find myself curling up on the couch and nodding. I want to tell him about my mom, about me, about everything. I need to.

  “I call it The Event, but to be honest I don’t remember much about it.” My eyes drift close and I let myself go back there, to that day and I start to tell him about it. “I’d just turned seven a few days before. I remember I wore my brand new blue sundress and my white sandals. Mama had just taken me to get my hair cut. I used to hate long hair. We’d stopped in the park and I was playing on the swing. The sun was bright, but it wasn’t hot. It wasn’t even noon yet, so it felt really nice out. The birds were singing and I could hear the wind in the trees. My favorite thing about the park was the swings. I loved them and I made Mama push me. She laughed every time I squealed when I went too high, but I loved to go higher and higher. It never scared me, I could fly. One minute I was up in the air and the next is just a jumbled mess of images and sounds.”

  I shudder at the memory, but I’m not terrified like I normally am. Something’s different this time. “Dad said a bunch of wild dogs attacked us and that I fell and hit my head when Mom and I were running, but I’m not sure I believe him. I didn’t see what attacked us, or at least I don’t think I did, but somehow, I just get the impression they were bigger than dogs, maybe not even dogs at all. I can still see images of snapping, snarling teeth and I can almost hear something, but I don’t know what.”

  “You hit your head?”

  I nodded. I’d had a goose egg the size of a baseball. It’d hurt like the devil. “Yeah, I did.”

  “And your mom left after that?”

  “I hate her.” The words pop out, but they’re true.

  Again, Morgan just waits patiently for me to continue. He doesn’t push or prod, just sits there, sipping his pop and waiting.

  “She left us the day after the attack. It’s a little odd I can remember that, but not what happened in the park.” I sigh with old frustration. “She put her bags in the car and kissed us all good-bye like she was going on a trip. Jason stood stone-faced and Dad worked hard to keep a smile plastered on his face for us. I cried and begged my mom to take me with her, not to leave me. I remember running after the car as it pulled away until I fell down so hard I bloodied both knees, all the while screaming for her to come back. It was my brother who picked me up and brushed the dirt off my clothes. He told me not to cry anymore, that he loved me and would never leave me. I’d always have him and no one could ever take that away from us.”

  Morgan’s hand finds mine as a tear slips free. I haven’t cried over my mom in ten years. I’m more than a little shocked.

  “I never really recovered,” I tell him. “Something broke inside that day and it’s been broken since. I guess I just shut down. I stopped talking and my friends left when I wouldn’t play with them anymore. I’ve had nightmares since then too. Really awful nightmares. The doctors diagnosed me with Night Terrors. I started to feel afraid all the time, even when I knew there was nothing to be afraid of. I couldn’t sleep and by the time I hit junior high, you could say I was a real basket case.”

  “I’ll bet Janna didn’t help.”

  I laugh bitterly. “She’s the reason I was in Compton Academy.”

  “The private school you went to?”

  His blue eyes are so warm, so kind. They sucker me into confessing it all.

  “The mental institute rumors aren’t too far off base,” I sigh. “Janna found out I was seeing a shrink and I walked up on her telling everyone just that and I . . . snapped. I wanted to hurt her, Morgan. Physically hurt her. The images from the park flooded back to me and I could feel myself reaching out to grab her. I scared myself and ran to keep from putting my hands around her neck. My nightmares were all I could see. Next thing I remember, I woke up in the hospital. Compton Academy was my shrink’s idea. It was a school that helped the mentally unstable.”

  “So you were in the loony bin.”

  “It was a real school,” I sigh. “We had all the normal classes a regular school would have, but we also had therapy and we spent every moment there being watched, poked, and prodded. I hated it, but I stayed because I knew I needed help.”

  “So, you’re better now?”

  “God, I hope so,” I mutter. The voices in my head make me wonder if I really am better or not.

  He smiles at me. “You are better, Bess, you’re just worrying too much. It’s time to loosen up a bit and have some fun.”

  “It doesn’t bother you I’ve been in a mental institute or that I could still be just as crazy as I was then?”

  “Nope,” he grins. “Speaking of fun, think we can turn off the movie and power up that PS3?”

  “Sure.”

  He flies to the cabinet housing the games and is drooling by the time I turn the TV to the right input channel. He’s pulls out all the shooter games, my personal favorites. He’s like a kid on Christmas. I’m awed by the fact that I’ve told him most of my secrets and he’s still here. He’s not running away. He throws me a handle and before I know it, we are laughing. He doesn’t mention my mom again.

  Maybe I do have a shot at normal.

  Chapter 8

  I whined low in my throat.

  This was not my forest. How had I gotten here?

  The unfamiliar smell of the sea burned my nose. I could hear the sound of the waves as they crashed against the cliffs. Seagulls screamed their challenge from above.

  I saw an opening in the trees ahead. Going down, I crept forward on my belly, careful to stay hidden in what little shelter the trees offered.

  A lone wolf sat on her hunches, staring out over the cliffs at the sea beyond. Her profile was proud, arrogant even. The wind was blowing towards me and I sniffed at the smell of the other wolf it carried my way.

  Her scent was familiar to me.

  Confused, I whimpered.

  She must have heard me somehow because now she stared straight at me. Impossible. Her hearing couldn't be that good.

  The scent hit us both then, quickly and unexpectedly.

  This was a scent I knew, one I’d been tracking. This scent screamed danger to me. I scanned the area quickly, seeing nothing.

  My head whipped around quickly, hearing the challenge the other wolf howled. She wasn’t staring at an unnamed threat as I expected, though.

  No, she was stalking towards me, her teeth bared, snarling in rage.

  My ears flattened against my head and I stood to meet the challenge.

  She leapt.

  I wake up clawing at the empty air.

  I can’t breathe, fear chokes me.

  It’s only a nightmare, I tell myself.

  Only a nightmare.

  Chapter 9

  Despite the nightmare of the night before, I wake up refreshed and excited. Spending the evening with Morgan had done more for my own personal peace of mind than anything else I’d tried. Now, I’m ready to take on the world. I feel good. In fact, I feel better than good. I feel a little fabulous.

  At least until I look in the mirror and grimace at my reflection.

  The girl staring back at me is boring. I have on old faded jeans, a purple tee-shirt, and my hair’s pulled back in the inevitable ponytail. I’d purposefully done that to myself so no one would notice me. Now I want to be noticed. I buried the old Alex and now it’s time for me, the new and improved Alex,
to shine. I’m not plain or boring.

  My teeth worry my bottom lip. The real problem is I’m not good with change, but I’m determined to do just that. I want a fresh start, I need and deserve one. A make-over could be the first giant step toward that. It can’t hurt anything really. Unless of course they mangle my hair. Then it could be really bad.

  No. Positive thoughts.

  I need help so I grab my phone and scroll through my numbers until I find Saidie’s. I recognize her voice as soon as she answers.

  “Hey, it’s Alex. Do you have any plans for today?”

  “Mom and I are going to the mall to get the rest of the stuff I need for school. You want to come? We can swing by and pick you up in say half an hour?”

  “That’s perfect, but I am going to need some help when we get there.”

  “With what?”

  “A make-over.” My voice comes out hesitant.

  “Are you SERIOUS?” she squeals into the phone. I can practically see her jumping up and down. “Oh My Gosh! You have so come to the right person. No one will recognize you when I’m done.”

  Kinda what I’m afraid of, but kinda what I need.

  “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  Really, how bad could it be?

  Decision made, I bound downstairs and find my dad in his office. He writes science fiction and does very well. Two of his books have been made into movies. Not Hollywood flicks mind you, but they were on TV. He’s currently bent over his laptop, muttering and frowning at the screen.

  “Dad, can I ask you something?”

  “Hmm?” He doesn’t look up from his computer.

  “Can I borrow your credit card? I was thinking about buying some new clothes and maybe getting a haircut.”

  That gets his attention.

  He smiles.

  I wince.

  “I was wondering when you’d start wanting makeovers. Your mother’s notorious for them.”

  I ignore the mention of my mother.

  “You don’t mind?”

  “Of course not. Besides, it would be good for you, Alex. Everyone needs a change once in a while. Keeps life interesting.” He hands me his card. “Spend as much as you need.”