Entranced

by Tamara Hart Heiner

He reached the living room and settled on the couch beside me. “Yeah, I got your text.” He didn’t look at me.

  I fell silent, not really sure what I was supposed to say. “How are you coping?”

  Stephen turned his head and stared at me. “So now you want to talk? Why did you blow me off when I was the one with questions?”

  Even from here I could smell the alcohol on his breath. That explained the bloodshot eyes. I cringed and popped a finger in my mouth, chewing on the nail. “I’m sorry. I was just . . .” Any lame excuse I might give slipped back down my throat.

  “You knew,” he said, his tone accusing. “I know you did. How? How did you know? And why won’t you tell me? Why are you here, Jayne?”

  I wrapped my fingers around each other and searched for a plausible explanation. “Your dad just didn’t seem well when I had my job interview with him last spring. It worried me.”

  Stephen considered me, and I watched his hope for answers evaporate. He slumped over, pressing his fists into his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Stephen,” I said. I hesitated the briefest of moments, and then placed my hand in the space between his shoulder blades.

  “Why did this happen to me?” he murmured, an undercurrent of anger flowing in his voice. “My life was perfect.”

  I thought of the pretty blond he’d taken to prom after I turned him down. “What happened to your girlfriend? Are you still together?”

  He shrugged, a quick movement under my palm. “We don’t talk anymore. I don’t talk to anyone, except in passing at school.”

  “Not even Toby?”

  He swiveled to face me, and my hand fell from his back. “Who would want to hang out with the moping, drunk orphan?”

  True, he wasn’t exactly appealing when he put it that way. “Friends are there for you even when things are tough.”

  A sneer marred his handsome face. “Like you? You haven’t been there for me. Not since you got your new boyfriend.”

  There was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice, and I bristled under the attack. “Let’s not get the facts confused, Stephen. I broke up with you because you cheated on me.”

  “But I apologized!” His face twisted up as if he might cry. He placed his hands on my knees. “I tried to show you how sorry I was.”

  I pulled back, but his grip held strong. “Forget I brought it up. Maybe you wouldn’t be so sad if you didn’t drink so much.”

  His gaze slid away from me. “Everyone drinks.”

  Trying to conquer Stephen’s lackadaisical attitude about alcohol would be difficult, even if it was the alcohol-induced state that caused his father’s suicide. “I never stopped caring about you, Stephen.” I placed my hands over his. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

  He shrugged. “Sure.”

  “No. Promise me you will.” I would take it too personally if Stephen committed suicide. There had to be something I could do to prevent that from happening. “If you start to feel really depressed, really alone, call me. I’ll be there. I’ll come here if you need me to.”

  Stephen blinked and looked at me, those vibrant green eyes showing a spark of life again. “It’s almost like you actually care.”

  “How can you say that?” I exclaimed. “You know I do!”

  He peeled one hand off my knee and cupped my face, then leaned forward. My heart realized what was happening before my mind did, and for one heart-pounding instant, I couldn’t think of why I shouldn’t let him kiss me. And then my wits caught up to me and I jerked away, crashing against the far side of the sofa.

  “I see how it is,” Stephen said, turning his face away, a crimson hue creeping up his cheeks.

  “I do care about you.” I sat on my hands to hide their trembling. “But not like that.”

  “Why?” he demanded. “Because you couldn’t forgive me? Because you found someone new?” He reached over and grasped my hand tightly in his own. Tears shimmered in his eyes, glistened on his lashes. “I need you. I need you, Jayne.”

  I shook my head and pushed myself to my feet. “I want to be there for you, Stephen. But not as a girlfriend. As a sis—”

  “Don’t say it,” he interrupted, lifting a hand and squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re not that to me, and you never can be.”

  My chest ached, and I swallowed hard. “Then I’m just your ex. An ex who wants the very best for you.”

  “Okay,” he said softly. “That’s who you are.”

  We lingered in silence another moment before I accepted that there was nothing else I could do here. I rubbed the palms of my hands on my jeans. “I hate to leave you like this.”

  “Then don’t go.” His eyes met mine again and I saw the muted agony, the desire.

  “I can’t stay,” I said. It wasn’t really me he wanted; it was human contact, touch, comfort. “I’ll check up on you, though.” I took a step closer and hesitated, afraid my nearness might take me into the danger zone. Then I bent down and kissed his cheek. “I mean it, Stephen. I’m here for you.”

  He turned into me and wrapped his arms around my neck, pulling me into an embrace. “Jayne.” Then he let me go and pushed his way out of the living room without a backward glance.

  All was quiet at my house when I got home. “Mom?” I called. “Dad?”

  “They went out,” Beth called from upstairs.

  I turned on the kitchen light and started rummaging through the fridge. My fast food burrito had long since digested, and now I craved bagels. Ever since working at JT’s Bagel Shop last year, I’d had an affinity for the delicious round slices of bread.

  I made myself an egg and ham bagel sandwich, then went up to my sister’s room. I knocked and poked my head inside. “I guess we’re on our own for dinner?”

  Beth lay on her stomach on the bed, kicking her legs and writing in a notebook. She turned her face toward me, her wavy brown hair spilling across her left cheek before she tossed it back. If she were a little taller and didn’t have brown eyes, we could pass for twins.

  “Yep. Just us.”

  “Hey, I know.” I brightened. “Let’s go to the mall. Celebrate the end of the first week of school.”

  “No thanks.” She turned back to her notebook.

  “Oh, come on!” I exclaimed. “Am I not cool enough? Tell you what. I’ll pay for one item.”

  She hesitated, a glimmer of excitement lighting her eyes. “Anything?”

  “Thirty dollars or less,” I amended.

  “Well, okay.” She shut the spiral notebook, dropping her gel pen on top.

  My phone began to ring while she slipped her shoes on. I patted down my pockets, searching for it before realizing I must’ve left it downstairs. I hurried from the landing, jumping the last few steps to the kitchen. It had stopped ringing by the time I got there. I flipped it open and checked the name.

  Aaron. My heart gave a small squeeze of joy. For a moment I’d almost forgotten how much I liked him. I felt a flash of guilt and called him back. “Aaron! Are you home?”

  “Yeah, just got in. What’s wrong? You’re out of breath.”

  “Oh, got winded taking the stairs.” I curled up in a chair at the kitchen table, setting my knees against the rounded edges. “How was work?”

  “Since you asked . . . something interesting happened after you left.”

  “Oh?” I ran my fingernail over the grain of the table. Beth walked in, her hair fluffed and lips glossy. I held up a finger for her to wait. “Interesting good or interesting bad?”

  “I’ll let you decide.”

  “That sounds ominous.” I wrapped my arms around my knees and leaned forward. “Did something happen?”

  “You know that boy you Saw?”

  Carter. “Yes,” I said, cautious now.

  “I was just getting off work, changing my clothes, when alarms started going off in his room.”

  “What?” I gasped. I dropped my legs to the ground, my chair scraping the tile as I scooted backwards. My heart dropped to my stomach,
and chills shivered over my arms. “What happened?” Immediately images of Carter pulling out his IVs or trying to hurt himself flooded my mind. My eyes burned with unshed tears, and I braced myself.

  “Is everything okay?” Beth whispered. “Do I need to call someone?”

  I couldn’t answer her if I wanted.

  “Stay calm,” Aaron said.

  Too late. “Tell me now.”

  “He’s breathing on his own, Jayne. The nurses kept saying what a miracle it was. He was sitting up and awake and breathing. Apparently he did a one-eighty in the past hour.”

  I sat there, speechless.

  “Jayne? Are you there?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. “I’m so glad. Oh, Aaron, I thought maybe I’d lost my powers.”

  “You’ve still got it, Jayne,” he said, and I heard the fondness in his voice. “That little boy is going to be just fine.”

  “What’s wrong?” Beth asked the moment I hung up, her eyes wide in alarm.

  I laughed and wiped away the moisture on my face. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Everything’s really, really great.” I jumped up and hooked an arm through hers, suddenly elated. “Let’s go shopping.”

  *~*

  The weekend passed too quickly, and suddenly my alarm was going off Monday morning, the sound like a freight train to the side of the head. Swatting at it did not silence it, and I finally gave in when I realized it wasn’t on my bed. I tracked it to my jeans pocket before turning off the siren.

  The bedroom door creaked open, and Beth poked her head in. Her hair was up in two pigtails, tied off with blue ribbons that matched her pleated skirt and fitted shirt. Shirt that I paid for, by the way.

  “Jayne, are you still taking me to school?”

  “Of course.” I threw yesterday’s jeans into my closet. Since I had to work after school, I went for the black suit pants instead. “I’m almost ready.”

  She eyed me, probably noting my trendy bed head. “I don’t like to get to school late.”

  “Duly noted!” I chose a short-sleeved turtleneck sweater and yanked my pajama top off.

  “I’ll be downstairs,” she mumbled, finally backing out of my room.

  Since being in a rush didn’t afford me the luxury of showering, I put my hair in a messy bun instead. I was trying to copy my mother, but no matter how I tried, I just couldn’t seem to pull off her sophisticated look. I brushed my teeth and added some gloss to my pale lips.

  “Jayne?” Beth called from downstairs.

  I grumbled under my breath and quickly gathered up everything I needed for school. “Coming!”

  “We’re going to be late,” Beth sighed as we climbed into my car.

  “I’m a senior,” I returned. “Being early is no longer the goal.”

  She fell silent, apparently seeing my point.

  I turned the radio on, flipping stations until I reached the news.

  “. . . another beautiful day in Forked River. Expect some rain toward the afternoon . . .”

  I lowered the volume and let the forecast roll over us. Funny how the flow of traffic when we left ten minutes late was so much worse. I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel as we inched closer to the signal, still several blocks from school.

  “I told you,” Beth groaned.

  “Hey,” I chided, losing my patience, “at least I gave you a ride to school, okay? What happened to Whitney or Tiffany or whatever her name was?”

  Beth shrugged and looked out the window.

  “. . . strange symbol on the body of the latest in a string of suicides throughout the township—”

  Wait, what? I turned up the volume.

  “. . . police investigating what may indeed be a suicidal ritual,” the woman continued, and I strained my ears, as if I could pull more information from the air. “The other bodies—”

  “The whole squad is still mad at me for quitting,” Beth said loudly, interrupting the news.

  For a moment, I had no idea what she was talking about. Then I remembered. I wavered between paying attention to my sister and my insatiable journalist desire to get to the bottom of the story. Making a decision, I shut off the radio so I could focus on her.

  “I don’t even really care.” She huffed and pulled her backpack into her lap.

  Seriously? They weren’t over that yet? I inched the car forward and directed my attention at her again. “Those girls are nothing, Beth. You’re so much better than them.”

  “I don’t want to be better than them. I want to be their friend. But if they say I’m out, the whole school says I’m out.”

  I rolled my eyes and refrained from pointing out the flaws in this logic. “Let them do what they will, Beth. In a year it won’t matter. Everyone will have moved on to new drama and forgotten about you.”

  We reached the school, and I pulled into the drop off zone.

  “Thanks for the ride,” Beth said, getting out.

  “Anytime. Do you need a ride home?” I hoped she’d say no. I didn’t want to leave the office to get her.

  “No. I’ll find someone. And thanks for talking to me.” She smiled, a dimple popping out on her left cheek.

  “Just hang in there, girl. It gets better.” Eventually.

  “I’ll remember that.” She shouldered her backpack and headed for the school.

  I pulled out of the school zone and turned the radio back on, but only music filled my car. I’d have to wait for the news.

  By the time I got to school, I was five minutes late. To make things worse, there were no more spots in the senior lot, and I was reduced to parking with the sophomores. Maybe being late wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

  There was no easy way to tiptoe into my psychology class. Meredith’s eyes landed on me as soon as I opened the door. I gave her a small wave and muttered an apology to the teacher as I slid into the desk in front of Meredith’s. A moment later my phone buzzed with a text message:

  Where were you?

  I texted back: had to take my sister to school. I didn’t mention that I’d overslept.

  Meredith’s reply popped up so fast, she must’ve already been working on it. Crazy stuff going on. My dad’s freaked out. Saying people are being brainwashed.

  “So, everyone turn to page seventy-six,” Coach Johnson said, catching my eye and raising an eyebrow, “and read the two pages about social influences and how they shape our culture. Then fill out the questionnaire for your homework.”

  I put my phone away, knowing I was only minutes away from having it taken from me.

  “Hey, I have a question,” a kid in the back said. “Social influences would include these crazy people who form cults, right? And get masses of mindless people to follow them?”

  “Ah,” Coach said with a smile and a pleased nod. “You’ve been watching the news.”

  I sat up straighter, shifting in my seat. “What does it mean?” I interjected. “What about the symbol they found?”

  Coach shrugged. “Well, nothing’s certain yet. But if they find symbols on other bodies—”

  “Mass suicide, right?” the kid said. “Joining a cult and then following their leader off the deep end.”

  “But there are no cults here,” I said.

  “There are cults everywhere,” the kid scoffed.

  “What about the ducks?” Christy Taylor, a girl to my left, said. “Are they somehow related?”

  The ducks? Why did that sound familiar? The class burst into buzzing speculation while I racked my brain to remember. My mind flashed back to the boy I’d met the first week of school. Trey. Hadn’t something gone on at his school? Something about a duck massacre?

  Coach held up his hands to quiet us. “We don’t really have any answers right now. But these are good questions to ask. Keep them in mind while you do the assignment. Maybe you’ll come up with the answer. Oh, and don’t forget, our first test is in a week, next Monday!”

  I obediently turned back to the page, but all I could think about was getting to work and d
oing my own research.

  I almost didn't stop by Mr. Edwards’ office when I got there. But he was my boss, so I forced my feet to pivot that direction.

  He wasn't in there.

  Loud chatter carried down the hall from the copy edit room. I followed the sounds and found all of the staff hovering over the table, moving and rearranging pages of papers. I spotted Kate leaning against the wall, her dangly earrings brushing her shoulders. I avoided looking at her earlobes, which appeared stretched to maximum capacity, and slid into place next to her.

  “What are we looking at?” I whispered.

  She turned her large, excited eyes on me. “The symbol,” she said. “The one found on the last suicide’s body? The police just finished investigating all of the bodies. And—” She paused for effect. “They all have it.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  I pushed past Kate, eager to get a look at this controversial symbol. My heart did a double-time in my throat, as if certain that somehow this was the key.

  Before I got a glimpse of it, Mr. Edwards spotted me.

  “Jayne,” he said, pulling away and coming up to me. “I’ve got a job for you. You too, Kate.” He took my forearm and herded me out of the room, all while I slowed my walk and looked over my shoulder, trying to see the symbol.

  “But I—” I began.

  “I know,” he interrupted. “You want to be in there. But truthfully, that’s not where I need you.”

  My shoulders drooped, and I exhaled in disappointment. “Where do you need me?”

  He patted my arm and looked at Kate as well. “I need you to compile a list of all the suicides in the past month. Start with Forked River and expand beyond the township. We’re looking for numbers much higher than the standard deviation. I want to know how far this goes.”

  “This what?” I asked.

  He nodded. “That’s exactly what we’re trying to find out.”

  “I’ll take the obits,” Kate said.

  “Guess I’ve got city records,” I grumbled.

  We spent the next three hours scanning obituaries and compiling info from the city morgue into a spreadsheet.

  Kate put down her pencil and leaned back in her plastic chair. “Oh,” she groaned. “My eyes hurt.”