Teen Fury: Unleashed

by Amanda Torrey

  I fold the picture quickly and shove it in the pocket of my jeans. This kind of thing could be my undoing. I’ve been so caught up in my own drama that I haven’t even considered what the kids have been going through, nor have I realized how much I missed them.

  My heart grows about four sizes, feeling tight and out of place in my chest.

  “Remember, honey. You are important to many.”

  I close the door behind me, wondering if it’s possible to feel any lower than I do now.

  Ryder opens the car door for me and I climb in without a word.

  The drive to school is silent, and my stomach rolls over at the thought of entering that building, where I’m the convict awaiting my execution.

  Time to mend some broken bridges. I cross my fingers, sending a silent prayer that it’s not too late.

  Chapter Forty-six

  In true tragic fashion, the first person I see when I turn the corner to head to my locker is Jade. She looks different—her clothes are tighter than normal and her hair is a lighter shade of strawberry blonde. I can feel her change in attitude before I even approach her, but I can’t tell if it’s positive.

  “Hey.” Not the most creative segue, but I figure I have to start somewhere.

  She responds by slamming her locker shut, the metallic sound echoing down the nearly empty hall. The bell is about to ring for third period, and most students have already found their way to class. Her eyes never meet mine as she stomps off, her high-heeled boots clunking down the hall.

  Ryder reappears next to me, his arm barely touching mine, yet sending a shock up my arm and down my spine. He’s usually so good at avoiding contact, I assume he’s trying to offer comfort. Who would have thought he’d end up my anchor in this tumultuous friendship storm?

  He doesn’t return my smile when he delivers me to my class. I feel him watch as the door closes behind me, though.

  Mr. Shaw smiles when I enter the classroom, taking my seat in the middle of the second row. I barely have time to register Jenny’s snarky grin when I’m called to guidance. I scoop my books into my arms and make my way down the hall, kinda sorta missing Ryder’s escort.

  “Felicia, it’s so lovely to have you back.” Mrs. Evans stands when I enter her office. She gestures to an overstuffed chair across from her. I sit on the edge, clutching my books as though they were my security blanket.

  “How are you feeling?” She peers over the bifocal glasses perched low on her pointy nose, her owl-like eyes studying me as I gather my thoughts.

  “Fine?”

  “I know things haven’t been easy for you lately.” She leans closer and clasps her heavily ringed hands in her lap. “Should you need anything during the day, my door is always open.”

  “Thank you.” I look at the clock over the door, wondering why she had to pull me out of class when I’ve already missed so much. Aren’t they supposed to care about my education?

  “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about, in person.” She fidgets with an onyx ring, pulling it off, sliding it back on.

  I try to look interested in whatever she has to say.

  “It’s about the grant.”

  “I know I’ve missed some of the deadlines, but I promise I’ll have everything in before the final deadline on Monday.”

  “Actually, they declined your request for an extension. Since most of the other applicants didn’t proceed through the second stage, and since you were—” She clears her throat, “unavailable, they awarded the grant to the most qualified student still in the running.”

  She pauses, and I think maybe she’s waiting for a response. I’d honor her wishes if I weren’t suffocating under a stack of bricks, the weight of disappointment cracking my ribs and preventing air from reaching my lungs.

  “I’m so sorry, Felicia. We all thought you’d get it. But the entire committee asked me to urge you to reapply next year.”

  Next year. Not this year. To her, applying next year probably makes perfect sense. But to the kids who could benefit from the grant? Next year may be too late. Next year they will be a year older. Next year they may be less optimistic, less interested in positive change. Next year, next year, next year!

  “Thank you for your time.” My cheeks might crack from smiling so brightly. I breathe deep as I walk out her door, ignoring her apologies and well wishes and welcome backs. My hair follicles itch, and I’m tempted to let the Fury fly, to give freedom to the beast within.

  Young Dylan’s face pops in my head, and I flash back to the first time I saw him hanging outside The Shack, looking hungry and forgotten. How his tentative grin burst into a bright smile when I invited him in and bought him a triple chocolate milkshake. The thrill I got from helping him when I know I’d seen the kid around town often, never with an adult in sight.

  Ryder meets me in the hallway, and though I’m still smiling, his gaze turns darker and he grabs my arm with urgency and pulls me into the stairwell. He rubs my arms as though he’s trying to bring feeling back to my limbs. A giggle erupts when I see how serious he is, how caring, how concerned. He doesn’t even know how I’ve failed.

  His forehead wrinkles when my giggle turns to a chuckle, then an all-out, drop-down, belly-hurting chortle. He pulls his hands away like I’ve somehow managed to burn him, which makes me laugh louder. A snort escapes from my nose, and I’m not even the slightest bit embarrassed. Someone walks by us, looking curiously at the scene I’m causing, then runs up the stairs when my laugh turns deeper, darker. I’m the school psychotic, and who knows what crazy stunt I’ll pull next?

  “You done?”

  I burst into more laughter, holding my belly with my free hand, then grabbing my cheeks because they burn. I can’t remember when I last laughed this much, but I know it probably involved Jade and Corey.

  Next, Peter’s scarred face enters my mind. He comes to The Shack regularly now, but it took weeks of coaxing and bribing him with strawberry shakes and Sean’s homemade pretzels to make him feel safe enough to stick around for a board game session.

  My laughter dies as quickly as it was born.

  Ryder stands stoic, and I’m sure he’s afraid to say anything that might set me off again.

  “Okay, I need to get to class.” I walk away, and he follows. “Hey, thanks for the laugh therapy.”

  A look of confusion flickers across his face, but he doesn’t say a word.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to walk to class on my own. I need a little time to regroup.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Here, I got you a replacement phone. Text me if you need me.”

  I nod and thank him for the thoughtfulness. My fingers are going into withdrawal from the lack of texting; I never thought I could go this long without communication with my friends. Then again, I’m sure my phone isn’t plagued with missed calls or texts.

  I duck into the bathroom to splash water on my face before my next class.

  The face looking back at me seems older than I remember. I suppose that’s from the lack of sleep and too much stress, but to be honest, my looks are the last thing on my mind.

  As I twist the dial on the paper towel holder, I notice a heart with a Z drawn in the middle. Probably some girl crushing on Zane.

  My stomach twists at the thought of him, and though I hate to admit that I could have even one ounce of positive feeling toward him, I have to come to grips with the fact that I’m worried about him. I haven’t seen him in school, and I’m more than a little suspicious that his black eye was brought on by letting me escape last time.

  I push my way out of the bathroom, into the pseudo reality of my high school. Zane’s a big boy—a fighter—and Meg does have some affection for him, so I’m sure he’ll be okay.

  The kids I mentor, however… I’ll never know what a difference the grant could have made in their lives. No matter how kind and giving Sean is, he can’t allow the kids to spend all their out-of-school time at The Shack in
the dining area.

  A headache lodges itself firmly in my temple, and I try to rub it away with no success.

  Walking by the library on my way to class, I notice Corey sitting by himself near the window. My mood brightens a little—I could make my apologies to him now when he can’t easily escape me.

  He has to forgive me. He’s Corey.

  I smooth my hair, toss my shoulders back, and stroll through the door. He doesn’t look up, which is good because if he doesn’t see me, he won’t try to escape.

  I trip a little on my untied shoe-lace, dropping my notebook. After I pick it up, I notice Corey looking at me, a big, friendly smile on his face. He stands up, his posture welcoming. I pick up my pace, ready to hug him and go back to normal.

  Before I reach him, that girl passes me and runs into his arms. He closes his eyes when he hugs her, and I slump, hugging my notebook tight to my chest. Wishing I could disappear into the bookshelves, invisible.

  He kisses her lips, takes her by the hand, gathers his things, and leads her toward the other exit. Corey, leading? Kissing? Guess I’m not the only one changing.

  I just never thought I’d see the day when Corey wouldn’t see me. The one boy who knows me better than I know myself.

  Tears well in my tired eyes, but I blink them away and chastise myself for my weakness. I bite my cheek until I’m reminded that there is pain more intense in this world than emotional pain.

  I make it through English, scribbling notes and doodling in the margins. The drone of the teacher’s voice allows me to enter a sort of Zen state, and though I’m sure my SATs won’t reflect this as a good thing, the fact that I haven’t entered a mental institution yet today is a direct result of the Zen.

  The ringing bell at the end of fourth period brings me back to the world, and I move through the swarms of people in the hall like a fish swimming upstream. I don’t belong here any more than an elephant belongs in a dog crate.

  I’m heading into the cafeteria as Mrs. Evans taps me on the shoulder, beckoning me to follow her back to her office. My stomach growls in protest, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since last night in Mercy world. Not that I feel like nourishing this dysfunctional body of mine, but I also would rather avoid passing out and having to explain another episode to the school nurse.

  I sit in the same overstuffed chair I was in an hour ago, wondering what more she could possibly have to say to me.

  “Felicia, thanks for coming in.” She says this with a serious face, like it was my choice to stop by for a visit.

  I raise my eyebrows, waiting.

  Mrs. Evans shuffles through some papers on her desk, then pulls out a file that I presume is mine. She pulls out a manila envelope and hands it to me across the desk.

  “What’s this?”

  She leans back in her chair and swallows hard. She fiddles with the corner of the envelope, and I find it a bit amusing that she looks so nervous, like she’s the one sitting in the comfy chair waiting for the bad news to be delivered.

  Then again, maybe it’s not bad news. Maybe I’m misreading the situation. Maybe the grant committee reconsidered.

  “I’m very sorry to have to do this the first day you’re back from your leave of absence, but first-quarter warnings have been given out, and I need your parents to sign yours.”

  Warnings? That I’m failing? Blood rushes out of my extremities, and my feet feel like blocks of ice.

  I want to defend myself, but what is there to say?

  I haven't turned in a single homework assignment in weeks.

  She hands me the envelope, and I think I even signed something verifying that I received them. I may have mumbled “thank you” as I shuffled out of her office, my feet barely working.

  I walk to the caf, amazed at how my body could continue to function when I think my heart actually stopped beating. Can you be dead and still function in high school?

  As much as I’d like to run home, I know I have to finish the day. And my growling stomach takes no pity on my lack of joy in life.

  After handing my money to the lunch lady at the register, I carry my tray to the far corner where no one is currently sitting. The loser corner. Exactly where I belong. Not like any of my so-called friends would welcome me if I crashed their table.

  I bite the cardboard pizza and chew each bite fifteen times, until the crust turns to mush. This manages to keep my mind off everything else. Then it’s time to take another bite, and all the misery of the day comes back to me until I start counting the next.

  Eight, nine, ten…Jenny enters my line of vision. Eleven, twelve, thirteen…I don’t want to get to fifteen because then I’ll have to swallow and I’ll have to imagine how much worse the day could get if Jenny continues on the path toward me.

  Fourteen, fifteen…where’s Ryder, anyway? Isn’t he supposed to protect me?

  “Leesh! There you are!”

  “Don’t call me that.” I take a bite of pizza. One, two, three.

  She flops down on the bench across from me. I don’t remember inviting her. Four, five, six.

  “Isn’t it so great about the grant?”

  This gets my attention. Is she seriously going to try to make it a wonderful thing that my dreams were destroyed?

  Shoot, I lost count. I pick up at nine. Ten. Eleven.

  “I have soooo much I want to do with the money.”

  I swallow on thirteen. What is she talking about?

  “Those puppies are going to be the most confident, wonderful dogs in the world after they have their pedicures! I might ask for your help setting things up- you’re way better at that sort of thing than me.”

  Jenny got the grant?

  Jenny’s stray dogs are going to get pedicures, and my troubled kids are going to get the shaft?

  “Well, they made me change it to grooming and getting rid of fleas and whatever, but the most important part, I think, is the pedicure.”

  The snakes twist and turn just below my scalp. They are hurting me, digging into my skull, making me want to scream. I breathe deep like Ryder taught me, trying not to give in to something so evil, so reminiscent of my biological mother. But the snakes could so easily stop the annoyance, could end the prattling of the snotty little bitch sitting across from me.

  My face burns with anger, but Jenny doesn’t notice because she’s admiring her manicured nails as she goes on and on and on.

  I stand up, climbing over the bench and keeping my hands on the table. I might be able to rip her to shreds before she even notices. My sharpening teeth tear into my tongue as I clench my jaw, but the pain reminds me of giving Jenny what she deserves.

  Screw the deep breathing. I’m going to unleash the Fury.

  Jenny looks up as I’m about to release the snakes, and I’m startled by her suddenly flirtatious eyelash-batting and coy smile.

  Then I feel Ryder’s arms around me, gently pulling me away. She’s still trying to get his attention.

  Maybe there was something more to him driving her home than I’ve been led to believe. Maybe she has a reason to continue turning on the charm every time he’s around.

  I spin to face him, blood gathering in my eyes as I prepare to let everyone see my sharp teeth, eager to see the fright when my snakes reveal themselves.

  He leans close to me, resting his forehead on my forehead, and his calming scent floods my mind and dries my bloody tears. My breathing begins to match his, and the snakes subside.

  I collapse into his arms, the strain of the Fury too much. I don’t lose consciousness, but I’m only partially aware of Ryder leading me to his car, buckling me into the passenger seat, and delivering me safely to my room at home.

  Chapter Forty-seven

  I snuggle into my comforter, the clean, lavender scent comforting me, reminding me of my mom. This room usually feels like home, but right now I’m disconnected from everything around me, floating through space, hoping to find someplace safe to land. Someplace to be accepted.

  Mom slips int
o my room and whispers goodnight at some point. I pretend to sleep. Ryder left hours ago and gave me the distance I desperately needed, for which I’m thankful. Controlling the Fury was harder this time than ever before, and I’m a bit ashamed at how desperately I wanted to release it, even knowing the consequences.

  The pillow beneath me is wet, right where tears would have fallen if I thought for a second I could possibly have any left.

  My eyes close, but my mind refuses to turn off. Images flash through my mind as if they’re happening again, over and over and over again. Jade’s rejection. Corey’s ignoring. Zane’s disappearance. The grant committee denying my application. My dad’s new life. Jenny’s achievement. My mom’s sorrow. Failing grades. The monster within me.

  The thoughts refuse to cease, no matter how hard I dig my fist into my temple.

  I came here to fix my life, but somehow I made an even bigger mess of it all. If I had stayed away, I wouldn’t be so deep in this quagmire of depression.

  While I was in Mercy world, I never came close to letting the evil inside me show its ugly face. How stupid of me to think I could come back to this life and act like I wasn’t a totally different person. Heck, I’m not even sure I can be considered a person, period. Obviously life will never be normal. Not in this world, anyway.

  Unfixable.

  I kick my way out of my comforter and dig my old cat stationary from the junk drawer in my desk. Even though I haven’t used it since, oh, third grade or so, I figure the notes I need to write should be in my own hand-writing. Those I’ve loved deserve more than a text or email from me.

  With more resolve than I knew remained, I write my notes, remarkably managing to stop sobbing after the second note. All dried up, just like my future; my potential.

  I climb back into bed when I complete the final note. The clock tells me it’s only nine, so I need to wait until my mom goes to bed before I can walk away for the last time.

  And though I know I’ll bring pain to the people who read my notes, especially my mom, I also know I’ll bring greater pain and danger if I stay.

  Chapter Forty-eight

  My heavy breathing is the only sound I hear, though I know the woods are full of animals. The air is strangely still; not a single leaf blows as I try to find my way to the portal that will bring me to Mercy.

  I send up a quiet thanks for the full moon that lights the path. I’d like to avoid crashing into the trees, unless that will get me where I need to go.