Locked (The Heaven's Gate Trilogy)

by C. B. Day

  “No time to shower,” I mumbled under the noise of the teacher’s lecture as I hunched into my chair. I could feel Michael’s stare, burning into my back. I reached up and smoothed my hair against my neck, as if somehow he could see through the wall of hair to my Mark.

  Tabitha wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t need to know that,” she muttered back at me.

  “Ladies, something you’d like to share with us?” Mr. Bennett hovered between our desks.

  “We were just discussing our research paper, sir,” Tabitha countered smoothly as the class snickered.

  “I was just saying that I’d graded your interim submissions. Yours is good, but you still have some work to do,” he intoned, sliding our paper off the top of his pile.

  The class laughed as Tabitha eagerly snatched the paper, and then sagged with disappointment.

  “You all do.” The teacher skewered the class with a withering glare. Everyone fell silent. He resumed walking the aisles, handing out papers as he went.

  “You only have one week left before your final submissions. I suggest you take my feedback very seriously and focus on it during these last days. Failure to address this feedback will lower your score by a full grade.”

  The class groaned and Bennett smiled with spiteful glee.

  “Because I am a nice man, I will give you the rest of this period to regroup. Now go to it.” Grumbling, the class soon broke apart, the noise of scraping chairs and conversation overwhelming the room.

  I huddled over Tabitha. “What did he say?”

  She held the pages out to me. “See for yourself.”

  I took the paper and began reading the chicken scratches of red ink he’d left across the front page. I was vaguely aware of Michael reading over my shoulder.

  “There’s a lot, but it’s doable,” I said, wondering where I’d get the energy to tackle all the additional research and revisions our teacher had suggested.

  “There’s more,” Tabitha said glumly, turning the paper over. The entire back page was a sea of red. “But we can’t do it without talking to Maria again.”

  “No way,” Michael interjected sternly.

  We both turned to face him. After our talk, Michael and I had commenced a careful dance. Outwardly, everything was the same. We still spent most of our classes and lunch together; he still drove me home every day after school. But our conversations were stilted, as if he was afraid to say too much; it seemed as if an invisible force field kept him from getting too close to me. And I, trying to keep the secret of my dreams, found it easier that way, even if the distance between us was sometimes painful. For as much as I relied on Michael’s solid presence and the protection it seemed to offer, I was equally afraid of him, and my dark, sleepless nights had only made me more cautious.

  I even welcomed his discreet, periodic absences. He couldn’t hide the agony his disobedience caused him any longer. I recognized it in the whiteness of his knuckles when he gripped the edge of his desk; the restless pacing as he waited for my slow, human body to catch up to him on the walk to his car; the grinding of his teeth as he muscled through his endless migraines. It racked me with guilt to think of him in constant pain – and to think of the people who needed him, whom he was leaving out there to struggle, all because of me. His strain mounted and mounted until, in his most private moments, when he didn’t think I was looking, he would let down his guard; then it seemed to rack his body in spasms of agony.

  Only when he had reached that point would he allow himself to disappear – sometimes for days.

  When he was gone, I was grateful that his pain would be lessened, feeling guilty at the role I played in his misery. I left unsaid my thanks for feeling that, just for a moment, I could breathe again. While I waited for him – and I did wait, cursing myself as I did so -- I pored over the newspapers searching for another unlikely story of rescue and redemption somewhere half-way around the world, happy for the distraction from my own worries and the feeling of Lucas’s eyes, ever watchful.

  As far as the research paper had gone, Michael had simply followed Tabitha’s instructions and tagged along, adding his contributions during the periods he was in school. As long as he didn’t see any threat to my safety, he’d kept quiet. So his comment took Tabitha by surprise.

  But not me. As soon as I knew what we had to do, I remembered his concerns, and my promise not to go back to the shelter. I’d braced myself for his protest. But what I hadn’t been prepared for was the closeness of his body, the heat I could almost feel rolling from him in waves, the catch of my heart as he voiced his concern. I leaned against the desk and took a deep breath.

  “It’s the only way,” I said calmly, searching his eyes, willing him to understand. “We can’t answer any of Bennett’s questions unless we ask her directly.”

  He held out his hand. I passed him the papers so he could scan the comments himself.

  “We’ll just make it up then,” he said dismissively, thrusting the papers back at Tabitha.

  She looked at him in wide-eyed horror. “You can’t just make up a research paper. That’s cheating. It goes against the scholarly ethic.”

  “I’m just dumb muscle,” he retorted, squaring off against her, arms crossed as if daring her to defy him. “I don’t really care about scholarly ethic.”

  Tabitha stood up, her patent platform boots bringing her eye to eye with Michael. “You listen to me,” she started, pointing a finger at him.

  “Hey, no need for that,” I said, stepping quickly between them to interrupt her diatribe. I looked hurriedly over my shoulder to make sure Mr. Bennett was not listening in before continuing in a low voice. “We need these answers, Michael, and we need to get them the right way. But there’s more than one way to do it.”

  “Yeah. If you don’t want to go down there, we’ll just do it ourselves,” Tabitha interjected.

  A vein throbbed in Michael’s forehead. “No way. If you go, I’m going with you.”

  “What’s wrong with you? First you don’t want to go at all, now you insist on going? What are you, afraid you aren’t going to get enough credit? Or do you just want to keep Hope all to yourself, keep her under your thumb?” Tabitha was gesturing wildly, her fauxhawk shaking with every move.

  Michael’s face burned with anger but before he could respond, Tabitha continued. “Well, guess what? It doesn’t matter what you want. Mrs. Blankenship said no men at the Center. Period.” She crossed her arms in a mirror image of him and jutted out her hip, mentally declaring the case closed.

  “You heard her share the rules, Hope,” Tabitha continued, goading Michael with her confidence. “Back me up.”

  I stared at the ground. When I’d made my promise to Michael, I’d conveniently forgotten about that one little rule.

  “She’s telling the truth,” I mumbled, my hand straying to the back of my neck.

  I raised my head, willing myself to meet his gaze. His eyes blazed with fury.

  “Then you can’t…” he began.

  “We can call her,” I blurted out.

  My interruption stopped him short.

  “What?” Tabitha asked.

  “We don’t have to physically go to the Center to talk to her. The Center has phones. We can just ask to speak to her on the phone.”

  Tabitha looked skeptical. “What if she doesn’t…?”

  I cut her off, impatiently waving my hand. “Her English was great, and it’s not like she’s going to be out somewhere. They keep her there all the time, under lock and key. All we have to do is call Mrs. Blankenship to set it up.”

  My logic was impeccable. I sat on the top of my desk with a self-satisfied smile, waiting for them to agree.

  Tabitha was annoyed. She looked at our paper, now crumpled in her fist, and shoved it into a folder.

  “Fine. But we’re doing it right after school because if this doesn’t work we have no other choice but to go down there.” She glared at Michael. “Alone.”

  *****

  Michael a
nd Tabitha huddled around me, oblivious to the bustle of the hallways, as I listened to the interminable ringing on the other end of the line.

  “Why don’t they pick up?” Tabitha breathed, tapping her foot with impatience.

  “They probably don’t have a full time receptionist. It’s a nonprofit, remember?” I reminded her.

  Finally someone picked up and transferred me to Mrs. Blankenship. I repeated the carefully rehearsed lines, promising to keep our phone call with Maria short if she would approve it.

  “I see,” I said, my brow furrowing at her response. “Well, thank you anyway, Mrs. Blankenship. And let me know if anything changes.”

  I pressed the off button and closed my cell phone.

  “See!” Tabitha was already crowing with triumph. “She wouldn’t allow it. We’re going to have to go down there after all.”

  “No, that’s not it,” I said slowly, still absorbing the news as the pit of foreboding in my stomach began to grow. “We can’t talk to Maria, even if we go in person. She isn’t there. She’s disappeared from the Center.”

  Chapter 7 – Lucas’s Discovery

  “We can’t do nothing,” I pleaded again, trying ineffectually to block Michael’s access to his locker. “Please, hear me out.”

  It had been three days since we’d learned the news of Maria’s disappearance. Tabitha had given up hope, developing a new strategy for completing our paper. But I was still focused on finding Maria.

  Michael sighed. Gently, he picked me up by the shoulders and moved me aside, depositing me gingerly next to his locker.

  Ignoring the flush I could feel forming on my skin under the thin tissue of my t-shirt – the flush that always came when he touched me – I pressed on as he slowly opened the door and started stacking his books on the shelf.

  “She told me she was going to find her sister. You know that means she is somewhere out on the street. Or worse.”

  “I know, Hope. But we have no way of finding her.”

  “We can go look for her!” Tears welled in my eyes. I couldn’t stand feeling so helpless.

  Michael turned and tilted my chin in his hand. I closed my eyes, trying to blink away the tears, but one lonely drop managed to trickle down my cheek. He wiped it away, his rough, hot fingertip leaving its own trail.

  “I already have one errant girl to look after,” he said gruffly, his voice low. “How could I possibly take on another?”

  His words stung. The last thing I wanted to be was a burden to him. My eyes flew open as I began to protest, but before I could say anything, we were interrupted.

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  We both swung our heads to find Lucas strolling down the locker bay. Usually, Michael’s watchful eyes kept Lucas far away from me, but today he’d taken advantage of our distraction. My cheeks were still burning with shame and anger at Michael’s words. I pushed him away, wiping my face against my sleeve, hoping Lucas hadn’t seen me cry.

  “Why is it whenever I see you two, there always seems to be some drama?” Lucas purred smoothly, moving closer. “I have to say, Michael, things always seemed much better for Hope when you were away. Wouldn’t you agree, Hope?”

  I stared silently at him, willing him to shut up.

  “Has he been bothering you when I’m not here, Hope?” Michael addressed his question to me, but his black look was meant only for Lucas. Anyone else would have withered under its intensity, but Lucas just laughed it off.

  “We just had some fun, didn’t we Hopie?” I winced to hear my family’s pet name for me on his lips.

  “What’s this?” he asked. I followed his gaze down to where I still clutched my scrawled notes – everything I knew about Maria and her disappearance. Swiftly, he snatched it from my hands.

  “Interesting,” he drawled, artfully dodging my attempt to grab the paper back as he flipped through the pages, reading my notes. “A missing person. And not just any person – a lost little girl.”

  He shot Michael a speculative look.

  “Sorry I can’t help you on this one,” he said coolly, never taking his eyes off of Michael as he handed me back my precious information. “I can tell it has upset you.”

  Confused by his kindness, I mumbled a hasty thank you and quickly put the pages back safely in my book bag. Unconsciously, I shrunk away from him, my hand drifting in its nervousness to cover my neck.

  He laughed again. “Didn’t think I had any emotions in me, eh, Hope? Even I can muster up some sympathy on occasion.” He twirled on his heel. “Good luck. I hope you find her,” he offered over his shoulder as he walked away.

  I stared after him, baffled by our exchange.

  “Why does he always just turn up like that?” I muttered.

  Michael’s eyes were full of suspicion. “What do you mean, always?”

  I cursed myself for the gaffe. Michael didn’t need to know the kind of attention Lucas paid to me when Michael wasn’t around. He had enough on his mind.

  “Nothing,” I said, hastily, looking for some way to turn the conversation to my advantage. “At least he seemed to understand how important this is to me.” The accusing tone in my voice was unmistakable.

  Michael’s jaw tightened. Barely controlling himself, he slammed his fist into his locker. When he pulled away, I could see the imprint of his knuckles in the buckled metal.

  Knees trembling, I stepped backwards. Hastily, I pulled my fleece over my head. “I think I’ll walk home.”

  Before he could respond, I darted toward the exit.

  *****

  The March wind had turned biting. I pulled the collar of my fleece closer to me and eyed the sun, hanging low on the horizon, as I turned onto the dirty sidewalk.

  It was a mere five miles home. I could easily cover that distance before sunset if I ran. Luckily, I didn’t have many books to carry home tonight.

  My books.

  I groaned. In my haste to get away from Michael, I’d dropped my backpack in the locker bay. I looked at my watch, and again at the sky. The wind surged about me, whipping my hair around my head like a whirlwind, as if it were daring me to test my luck.

  I thought of my homework, and my phone, deserted in the school. Grudgingly, I turned back toward the school and began walking.

  It seemed to take twice as long to cover the distance back to the school. The wind continued to fight me, seemingly coming from every direction, my hair becoming a nuisance as it flew into my face.

  Of course, I’d have left my hat in the bag. Grimacing, I rummaged in my jacket pockets for anything to keep my hair out of my way but came up empty handed. The wind shrieked and I dug my hands deeper into the pockets, trying to hurry myself along.

  As the school came in view, a lone grey car with tinted windows slinked up to the stop sign in front of me and waited. It didn’t signal. Nor did it pull away, even though there were no cars to stop its progress. As I came closer, the passenger window rolled down.

  “I bet you came back for this,” a smooth voice called out from inside the car.

  Cautiously, I bent over and peered inside. There on the passenger seat sat my backpack. In the driver’s seat was Lucas.

  “Let me give you a ride home,” he said, straining to be heard over the rumble of his engine and the roar of the wind. “You don’t want to be walking home in this weather.”

  As if on cue, a crack of lightening shook the sky.

  I looked over my shoulder at the massive gray clouds closing in the sky. Resigned, I reached for the door handle and eased myself into the car, asking, “How did you get my bag?”

  Lucas slid my backpack down to the floor, at my feet. He smiled, showing a row of perfectly straight, white teeth, which somehow seemed predatory.

  “Would you believe me if you said I saw it when I went back to apologize to Michael?”

  My eyes narrowed. “You did no such thing.”

  Lucas laughed and shrugged. “So, there’s no love lost between me and Michael. That doesn’t mean you and I
can’t be friends.” He pushed a button and the window next to me quietly closed back up.

  Then, his eyes never leaving mine, he reached across my chest and pulled the seatbelt forward, clicking it firmly into place. His hand trailed up the belt to where it had trapped my wayward hair. He fingered it appreciatively.

  I froze.

  “I have to make sure you’re safe, and comfortable, if I’m to see you home,” he said softly, loosening my hair from under the belt. He let the hair cascade through his fingers, brushing my collar away to expose my neck.

  My heart was thudding so loud, I was certain he could hear it.

  “When the wind caught your hair out there, it was like a corona, you know. The sun caught it for just a moment and it shone. Beautiful.”

  With a steady, practiced hand, he deftly tucked my hair behind my ear and slid his hand down the back of my neck.

  Instinctively, I pulled away, but not before I saw and heard the sharp intake of his breath. His hand stopped right over my Mark, tightening his hold.

  “What’s this?” he asked sharply.

  When I didn’t answer, he firmly gripped the base of my skull and gently pushed my face away, exposing the back of my head. With his other hand, he pushed down the collar of my fleece, giving him a full view of my neck.

  Instinct took over and I lunged back, pushing him away and swinging for his face. “Get your hands off of me, Lucas.”

  He leaned back in his seat, arms and palms up in a declaration of innocence, a bemused expression on his face as he easily deflected my useless blows. But there was a dark glint in his eye and his voice was rough when he next spoke.

  “I can see what Michael sees in you now, Hope.” He laughed, a cold, hard sound that made me shudder.