Ember

by Jessica Sorensen

  “Well, that’s very deep, Cameron.” Mr. Mackerlie looks about as befuddled as the rest of the class. “Were you in AP English at your old high school?”

  Cameron clicks his pen. “I was, but it seems the English department is limited here.”

  “We are a small town,” Mr. Mackerlie replies, shuffling through some papers in his hands. “Where did you live before here?”

  “New York.” Cameron jots down something in a notebook.

  “Oh, the Big Apple.” Mr. Mackerlie selects a paper from the stack and places the rest on his desk.

  “That would be the one.” Cameron sounds bored.

  “Well, it’s great to have you here,” Mr. Mackerlie welcomes him and moves on to Shakespeare. Cameron doesn’t glance at me during class. However, I can’t take my eyes off him. He is both fascinating and frightening. Who is this guy that digs up graves in the cemetery? Who speaks up for me in class and writes the most beautiful words? Who is from New York, just like Asher?

  ***

  My next class is about as uneventful as watching paint dry. But during third period, while Mr. Peabody is scribbling math equations on the board, the intercom clicks on.

  “Mr. Peabody.” The secretary’s voice statics through the room. “Can you please send Ember Edwards down to the main office?”

  “Go ahead, Ember.” Mr. Peabody turns back to the board.

  The entire class looks at me. I sigh, grab my bag and book, and head to the office. The secretary is talking to a slender woman with blonde hair, a sharp nose, and glasses framing her narrow face. Her hair is tight in a bun and she sports a pinstriped pantsuit. I drop down in a chair and wait.

  “Yes, I know, but I don’t see why you have to do it here,” the secretary, Mrs. Finnelly, tells the woman.

  The woman leans on the counter. “Can you just check again?”

  Mrs. Finnelly sighs and types something on her keyboard. She rolls her chair back to the corner filing cabinet and takes out a thin manila folder. “Here you go, Beth, but I don’t see how her file is going to help… Oh, Ember, I didn’t see you walk in.” She looks nervous.

  Beth turns around and her blue eyes promptly darken with abhorrence. “Ember Edwards, I’m detective Crammer.”

  My lips twitch. “Why am I here?”

  “I think you already know the answer to that.” She motions to the counselor’s office door. “But why don’t we go in here so we can talk more privately.”

  I follow her into the councilor’s office, which is packed with plants and family photos. There’s a bag hanging on a coat rack in the farthest corner and the air smells like pumpkin and spice. Detective Crammer takes a seat in the office chair and I sit down in front of the desk.

  She opens the file with my name printed on it. “You excel in English… but your math grades look a little weak.” She takes off her glasses and tosses them on the desk. “Well, I’ll get straight to the point since we only have the office for a few minutes.” She rolls forward in the chair, and overlaps her hands on top of the desk. “As I’m sure you heard, Laden Miller disappeared last night. Now, the last place he was seen was a party you were at. Is that correct?”

  “Yeah,” I answer. “But a lot of people were.”

  “Just a simple yes or no will suffice,” she says snidely. “Now, as I’m sure you’ve also heard, Laden Miller’s car was found down at the bridge in a very similar situation as how your father’s car was left after his disappearance three years ago. You were the only one ever investigated for his disappearance—the police never had any more leads.”

  I brazenly cross my arms. “The charges against me were dropped.”

  She pulls out a small notepad from the pocket of her jacket. “I pulled up your father’s case and it said that they got a call right before your dad disappeared. The call was from you and you said he was going to be murdered.”

  “No, I said he was going to die. There’s a huge difference.”

  “Huge difference or not, it’s highly suspicious. And then you ran away right after.”

  I opt for silence, knowing from experience that fewer words mean fewer opportunities to twist what I say around.

  Her eyes narrow and then she jots something in notepad. “It’s such a strange case. Raven feathers, an hourglass, the bright red X on the road. And of course there’s the blood.”

  “They’re all symbols of death,” I say. “I told the police this last time.”

  Her eyebrows furrow as she reads over her notes. “Hmm… no one ever made a note of that.”

  I shrug indifferently. “Well, it’s true. Except for the X, they all represent death. You can Google it if you want. It’s pretty common knowledge.”

  “Did you do that before or after your dad disappeared?”

  “After.”

  She reddens with frustration. “You know, I find it highly suspicious that you were at a party Laden Miller attended and then he disappeared. And there were witnesses that said they saw you peeling off in your car right after Laden drove away with another girl.”

  Witnesses? “My mom has a strict curfew,” I lie, but not very well.

  She sifts through the notepad. “Actually, if I read the note in the file right, your mother’s a pretty inactive parent. In fact, she gave up her custody of you and sent you to live with your father when you were four.”

  “Well, she still likes me home at a certain time.” I make an effort not to fidget, or she’ll use it against me.

  Her eyes scrutinize me. “Where were you between the hours of two to four a.m. on Saturday?”

  Crashing into a lake, drawing crazy notes on my wall, blacking out. Shit! “I was with Asher Morgan all night.”

  Her eyebrows arch. “And he is?”

  “A friend of mine.” I’m digging myself a giant, coffin-sized hole.

  Thankfully, the lunch bell rings. She writes Asher Morgan down at the top of the notebook and then tucks it in her pocket. Then she hands me her card. “We’ll be in touch.”

  I take the card, stuff it into my back pocket, and leave the office, not looking back.

  Chapter 7

  Everyone in the school is calling Laden’s disappearance the Angel of Death Killing. The rumor spread about the detective interrogating me. It’s like I’ve relapsed back to three years ago, right after my dad vanished. The halls are fluttering with whispers of “Freak,” Psychopath,” and “Murderer.” But I walk with my head held high. A little gossip and dirty looks is nothing compared to being plagued by death every day.

  Raven still hasn’t shown up at school and she hasn’t called or replied to any of my texts, so I go to the cafeteria solo, crossing my fingers I’ll make it out alive. I’m waiting in line, when Mackenzie Baker comes brushing by, knocks her shoulder into mine, and nearly breaks a high heel trying to recover her balance. Ropes bind her wrist and mouth. Darkness devours her. Come out, come out, wherever you are. It’s a game and Mackenzie loses, lost in a sea of blood. I’ve seen her death before and it never gets easier.

  “You better watch it,” she says with edginess in her tone.

  I stare at her expressionlessly and don’t utter a word. She flips her hair and quickly returns to the conversation with her cluster of friends as they head for the tables.

  “So was I right?” The soft touch of Cameron’s voice sends a rush of adrenaline through my body.

  I step back and elongate the distance between us. “Were you right about what?”

  “About your poem,” he says with a charming smile.

  “You think I’m in pain?” I move forward with the movement of the line.

  “I think your heart carries a lot of pain.” He steps forward. “But that you hide it, just like you hide a lot of things.”

  He’s striking a nerve. “Isn’t everyone hiding something?” I ask.

  “Now those are the words of a true writer.” He reaches behind me, missing my arm by an inch, and grabs a tray. “But the question is, what are you hiding, Ember?”

 
; There’s accusation in his tone—he’s heard the rumors. “Bodies in the basement of my house and a burner full of ashes,” I say darkly.

  He’s unfazed. “Weird, because that’s the same thing I have in my basement.”

  I collect a tray. “I’d be happy that we share something in common, but we both know that neither of our houses have basements.”

  “Yep, but they have attics,” he says and it no longer sounds like he’s joking. “And attics are excellent places to hide bodies too.”

  I pick up an apple and slide my tray down, unsure what to say.

  He laughs. “Relax, I’m just kidding.”

  I offer him a small smile, and then pull a face at the food the lunch lady slops on my tray. Raven, where are you? I need my McDonald’s.

  “I think they forgot to kill it first.” Cameron pulls a revolted face. “It looks like it’s still moving.”

  “What? Don’t they have mystery surprise Monday in New York?” I loosen up a little, grab a bottle of water, and pick up my tray. My eyes browse the room lined with tables separated by cliques and social status. There’s a lot of chattering and wandering eyes at the accused killer standing in the center of the room. Who am I even looking for? I spot Asher in the far corner table sitting with the self-proclaimed artists of the school.

  Asher’s eyes find mine and light up. But then he notices Cameron standing next to me and he glares. Cameron returns the glare with equal animosity.

  “I thought you said you didn’t know him?” I ask Cameron with cynicism.

  He blinks the glare away and smiles politely. “I don’t know him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got places to be.” He struts off to Mackenzie’s corner table and immediately starts flirting with her.

  “Hot and cold much,” I mumble.

  Asher waves me over. I hesitate, not at him, but at the rest of the people at the table who are just as afraid of me as Mackenzie is. But then Asher smiles and my doubting thoughts surrender.

  I take a seat at the table and everyone gives me subtle nods, except for Farrah Taverson, who is the only girl at the table. And who dated Laden Miller up until a few weeks ago. She scowls at me, gathers her medieval era dress, and leaves the table.

  “You looked like you needed help,” Asher whispers in my ear.

  I stir the slosh on my tray. “I don’t usually eat in the cafeteria, especially without Raven.”

  “She’s still not here?” he asks and I shake my head, frowning. He takes a bite of his sandwich. “Do you know that guy you were standing by?” He licks a dab of mayo from his lip. I imagine licking it off him, along with many other things.

  “Ember.” His voice is low. “Are you okay?” His gaze travels to my forehead. “Did you go to the hospital after the accident?”

  “Yeah,” I lie. “And I’m fine. No broken bones. No concussion. I’m like a walking miracle.”

  “What about your car?” he asks with concern.

  My mood sinks lower. “That’s definitely a goner.”

  “And how about… how are you doing with what everyone else is saying?”

  I shrug. “It’s not the first time they’ve wanted to burn me at the stake.”

  He takes another bite of his sandwich and changes the subject. “So you never answered my question.”

  I dare a bite of my own food and it tastes as bad as it looks. “About what?” I casually put a napkin to my mouth and gag out the slosh into it.

  “About the guy you were with just now?”

  “That’s Cameron.” I ball the napkin up and set in on the corner of my tray. “He’s the other new guy here and coincidently, he’s also from New York.”

  “That’s weird.” His jaw tightens and he throws the rest of his sandwich into his bag. “Would you do me a favor?” He stands up and collects his garbage. “Would you show me around a little bit?”

  “Sure. But I’m surprised no one else has, especially Mackenzie,” I say. “She seems to have made it her abiding duty to show Cameron more than he probably needs to see.”

  He laughs and we head across the cafeteria toward the trash cans. “I don’t think I’m really Mackenzie’s type.”

  I eye his goth/emo style. He’s not her type, but he’s still beautiful, especially his eyes. “She may not admit you’re her type, but trust me, deep down I’m sure she thinks about you.”

  He throws his garbage into the trash, but holds onto a mini bag of Doritos. “And what about you? What’s your type?”

  I dump my tray into the garbage and bite at my lip. “I don’t have a type.”

  We walk for the exit door, side-by-side, and at that moment, everyone in the cafeteria doesn’t exist. We are the only two people in this world where, for a split second, death doesn’t prevail. Again, I crave to touch him, feel every inch of him, and understand what he’s thinking.

  He hands me the bag of chips, but I shake my head. “No, thanks. I’m okay.”

  “You didn’t eat anything. Well, you did, but you spit it out,” he says. My mouth waters as I eye the bag of chips and he laughs. “Just take them.”

  So I do and eat them as we roam up and down the halls. I explain where everything is—who everyone is. The two basic factors that everyone in high school needs to know to survive. After I’ve given him the grand tour, we stop in the fairly empty quad centered in the school. A large circle of pillars form the walls and there are benches in the middle.

  “I used your name this morning,” I say quietly. “When a cop brought me in for questioning.” He appears mystified so I add, “Questioning for Laden’s disappearance.”

  “I knew what you were talking about,” he says, leaning against a pillar. “I was just wondering why you said it so guilty. I know you were with me.”

  “For part of the time,” I clarify. “You dropped me off around three and she wanted to know where I was between the hours of two and four.”

  He gets this funny look on his face, like he might laugh. “So where were you for the extra hour? Or should I say we.”

  “You don’t have to cover for me,” I tell him. “Your name just slipped out because it seemed a lot better than telling her I was up in my room with a friend that was trashed out of her mind. And I’ve been through this before and excuses like that don’t fly.”

  “When your dad disappeared?”

  “How do you know about that?”

  His face is guarded. “People like to talk a lot around here, I’ve noticed.”

  I shy away. “I’m sorry. I’ll go find the detective and tell her the truth.” I turn for the office, but he blocks my path.

  “Last night was one of the best nights of my life,” he starts. “I have never made out so long before. And the lake was beautiful, crystal clear with a bright moon setting. And Ember… she is the most amazing kisser.”

  “Yeah, I think you took it one step too far on the last sentence.” I stifle a smile. “You might want to leave that part out.”

  He challenges me with a cock of his eyebrow. “Or find it out for myself.”

  “You seriously don’t have to cover for me.” My phone rings inside my bag, but I ignore it. “I can figure out something else.”

  “It’s fine,” he insists. “I know you didn’t do it.”

  There are no words to express my gratitude. “Thanks. I owe you big time.”

  He fiddles with his eyebrow ring, looping the tip of his pinkie through it then pulling it out. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and suddenly he looks nervous. “Okay, so I have to ask you something. And feel free to be completely honest with me.”

  “Okay…” I wait for the moment where he tells me he was kidding and he really thinks I’m a killer.

  “Hypothetically, if I were to ask you on a date, what would you say?” he asks.

  My heart erupts in my chest. “Well, if we were only speaking hypothetically, I’d say yes.”

  The corners of his mouth quirk. “And if I wasn’t speaking hypothetically.”

  “Then I’d say
I’d have to think about it.” I’ve been spending way too much time watching Raven seduce guys.

  He bites his bottom lip and reaches for my messenger bag. Before I can react, he extracts my cell phone. He punches a few buttons and hands me the phone. We stare at each other and I picture my lips pressed to his, tasting him thoroughly. He leans in like he might kiss me, then the bell rings and students pour into the quad.

  He winks and backs away. “Think about it and let me know when the hypothetical can become a reality,” he says before vanishing into the crowd.