Authors: Dawn Brazil
“I – I…” I struggled with what to tell and what to keep hidden. Did I need her, the lone adult I could talk with, the one person who saw me as a real person, to think of me as insane?
No.
So I forced something from my mouth. “I saw Zack and Casey kissing this morning in the hall.”
“Oh.” She cast her eyes down and her brow creased in what I perceived as confusion.
Zack was my boyfriend – well, sort of. I wanted to break up with him after we graduated. Therefore, the cheating was inconsequential. However, our mothers, for their own selfish reasons, insisted on us dating. My cowardliness in full force, I wasn’t certain that breakup would ever take place. My mother loved him, which meant I had to also. Ms. Graves knew this, she knew quite a bit about me. But I wasn’t in a sharing mood now.
“Well, I can certainly understand your surprise at witnessing that. But…is that what is actually bothering you?”
“Yes, honestly…it is. I think…it…startled me. I felt…betrayed.” Unable to face her as I concocted my lies, I diverted my eyes like a chastised child. My hands shook in my lap. I clenched them together quickly. She could be so perceptive at times.
I’d better make this more believable.
“And I feel sick.” I ran my hand along my abdomen for emphasis. “I think I may have eaten the wrong thing for breakfast.” I looked up at her from under my lashes to determine if she bought my story. I held my breath with anticipation.
She sat and stared at nothing for a moment, with her mouth twisted to one side. Her demeanor insinuated she was unmoved by my poor attempt at acting.
“Okay.” I hunched my shoulders, defeated. “Please, trust me when I say I can’t explain why I’m here. Not really… But believe me – it’s bad. Disturbing, even. I feel like I might vomit from the thought of it. May I please be excused to go home…please?”
She approached, unhurried. “Look at me, Chloe.” She shined her intrusive scope light in my eyes. “Open your mouth.” She peered down my throat. If she examined me that meant she believed me.
Right?
I hoped.
She didn’t speak further but stared at me with her brow creased. Her mocha eyes were squinted, their usual gentleness replaced by a haze of doubt. I fiddled with my oversized bag, with my manicured nails, and anything else within reach while she silently deliberated.
She sighed softly. “Sweetie, I know life can be difficult. I want you to remember that you can always come and talk to me. My door is always open for you. What we discuss is between the two of us, only.” She paused, maybe because she reasoned I might say something, confess the truth, or for dramatic effect. I wasn’t sure why she did it. But I could tell she was contemplating letting me leave. I took advantage of the opportunity to convince her further.
“I’ll go straight home. You can trust me. You can call my mother to make sure I’m there. Please.” I pleaded. “I know I can tell you anything. You’ve never told anything we’ve discussed before. But,” I stammered, and tried to hold in my tears, “this is different.”
I’m losing my mind. How could I tell her that
?
Chapter 3
“Okay.” Ms. Graves hesitated, rotated in her seat, and then scribbled a note on the clipboard on her desk. “Take this to the office explaining I gave you permission to leave.” She snatched the note back and looked me in the eyes. “Chloe, for heaven’s sake – go home. Do not go anywhere else. I will call your parents to let them know you’re on your way. I trust you to do this.”
“I will, I promise. I shouldn’t be around anyone else now anyway. Not in my condition.” I glanced at her sideways.
Had I said too much?
Would she want to discuss what I said?
I stood like a pillar of salt ready to crumble at any minute. As I took the pass, she observed me closely. We both knew I had no medical illness. I knew why I needed to leave but wondered why she allowed me to go.
“Thank you so much,” I called behind me. I raced from the room to the attendance office.
A line of students greeted me as I entered, going home also, I assumed. Two students up the line, a girl from my third period class held a tissue to a bloody nose. Trevor Reid stood in line in front of me. He didn’t appear to have an ailment. But he had his backpack and a note in hand. He twisted and glared at me. He motioned to the others in line ahead of us.
“I loathe standing in these interminable lines,” he said. He pulled on his J. Crew bag to adjust it on his shoulders. “The majority of us are parting for the day due to illnesses. Why, against all logic, would they have us detained in line like this? I believe I will express my concerns to my father. This school is indebted to us students. We pay an abundance of money to attend, to have…”
Trevor was a complainer. He complained about everything. It didn’t help that he had the most grating nasal voice either. And he talked like a Harvard professor and not a normal 12
th
grader. I pretended to listen, but I allowed my mind to wander back to the strange events that led to my emotional breakdown and the need to go home early.
Navigating my relationship with Zack had proved difficult. It was simple: he wanted more romance; I wanted more friendship. He appeared oblivious to this. In fact, his behavior had been odd the past few months. Resigned to remain friends, my mood soured when he tried to kiss me. But we did pretend on occasion – when our parents were around. Unfortunately, all the stress of maintaining a fake romantic relationship had begun to wear on our usually impenetrable friendship.
He was my rock. The one constant person I could depend on. But lately, all I’d wanted to do was throw knives at him.
I had begged Matt to drive me to school early today so I could avoid Zack. Matt, the ultimate slacker, charged me a US History paper for his time.
When we arrived at school, all seemed normal. I rounded the junior corner to my locker but stopped short. Zack stood at his locker, right next to mine, clad in his football uniform. I’d forgotten about morning football practice.
“Dang it,” I said. “There goes my day.”
He leaned on his locker and talked to Casey, a mutual friend of ours. I whirled on my heels. I didn’t need my book for my first period class, I’d share with someone else and snag my second period book later.
When I’d made the decision to forego the locker, I glanced behind me to ensure Zack and Casey hadn’t spotted me. To my surprise, they embraced – a sensual embrace. Zack ran his hands through Casey’s short, spiky blonde hair. Then they closed the gap between them and kissed.
Baffled, I stopped and stood with my mouth agape and eyes transfixed. It took a moment for what they were doing to register.
What does a girl do in a situation like this?
I laughed. Hysterically. Our relationship had been anything but normal. My reaction was a side effect of it. To regain my composure, I escaped to the small space between the janitor’s closet and the water fountain nearest me. I leaned my head against the gray metal door and continued to giggle lightly.
He could have told me. I would’ve been relieved.
No more pretending.
I bit my bottom lip to suppress the fit of giggles that still lingered. Then I circled back to see if they were still kissing. They weren’t. They stood directly in front of me. Due to my laughing fit, I hadn’t noticed the two of them walk up. They held hands.
Wow, they turned into a couple fast.
Startled, Zack dropped Casey’s hand. “Chloe,” he said. His mouth twisted and his uncommonly dark eyes pleaded.
I wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation. I snapped to and spun around to leave. Zack grabbed my hand. He bulldozed me with his large muscular body and yanked me to him.
“We need to talk. Now.” His voice was shrill and his hands were moist against mine. With one fluid motion, he released my hand and seized me by the waist.
I tried to pry his hands away, but his grip was too tight. That was when I felt the zap and the nightmare really began.
A chill ran through me as the image of his bloody body became clearer in my mind. As if I’d taken a photo of the scene and examined it again. Unable to relive another minute, I shut the memory down as a bloodcurdling scream nearly escaped my lips.
I strained to suppress the memory that didn’t want to stay at bay and shook my head and threw my hands up to rub my forehead. Shamefully, I struck a new student being escorted by Dr. Michaels, the headmaster.
He carried an armload of papers and books when we collided. It all scattered to the floor. Surprised and embarrassed, I bent to help him collect his things.
Lost in thoughts of what had happened earlier, I hadn’t really noticed the new guy. I snuck a peek at him just as he lowered his head. Our eyes met. Locked. My breath caught. My heart split in two. He was beyond gorgeous.
Pull yourself together, Carmichael.
But it didn’t matter, he was probably like everyone else here. No one had their own mind, no one tried to be an individual…it was always “follow the status quo”. I knew. I was the biggest follower of them all.
Sorry you got stuck here in high-class hell. This place will eat you alive.
He glanced up with a dejected expression, his mouth drawn into a straight line, as if I’d said something. I turned my head to glance behind me, thinking his reaction was to something back there. But there was nothing odd, nothing out of place. I didn’t recognize him.
Why would he look at me like that?
Since I hadn’t uttered a single syllable, “bizarre” seemed the appropriate word. It couldn’t be because I bumped into him.
Could it?
I stole another glance at him while we picked up the remaining books and papers. He wore a black v-neck tee and Astor distressed jeans with black Converse. He was tall, at least 6 feet, with golden blond hair and a chiseled face I was certain should be on the cover of someone’s magazine. The word “hot” didn’t do him justice.
I knew it was wrong to judge a book by its cover, but he
was
probably like everyone else. He’d fit in well. Spoiled. Rich. Eye candy. Breathtaking…eye candy.
I reached over to pluck the remaining book from the floor and he reached for it as well. Our hands collided and an electric current passed through me. Butterflies swarmed my abdomen and a rush of thoughts attacked me.
What does that zap mean? Does he have a girlfriend? Does he want one? How is my hair? What the hell’s wrong with me?
I snatched my hand away. Shocked. Like when I was zapped and saw Zack dead on the football field.
I am not going through that again.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. And turned to take my place back in line.
If nothing more, I was a coward to the highest degree.
Chapter 4
I made every attempt not to turn and leer at the “new guy” as he walked away. It was useless. Curiosity was too strong an impulse. I pivoted and pretended to watch something else as I spotted him behind me. However, when I turned, his intense gaze was fixed on me. He held that same curious expression. I couldn’t place it. As if he were pleading, without words, which wasn’t unusual. Didn’t people often beg with their eyes, without ever uttering a word?
Except…his eyes were staggering. They held a message. Somehow, that frightened me. My mouth went dry at once and my stomach flipped. I didn’t want to know what that message was.
I diverted my eyes, embarrassed about ogling, and spun to face the front of the line. Those eyes. His eyes. They sent a chill up my spine and my stomach fluttered. My heart quickened. What was wrong with me?
Stop that!
I ordered myself.
Are you crazy, Carmichael?
Crazy was possible. After all that had happened so far today, crazy was definitely possible.
Trevor didn’t glance my way in line again with more complaints. I was thankful. I fiddled with the buttons on my Prada handbag while I waited. My mind cascaded from one random thought to another, trying hard to block what happened earlier and not talk to anyone else.
Therefore, when my name was called, I didn’t say anything. I didn’t acknowledge in any way that someone had spoken to me.
I blinked absently at the announcements posted on the bulletin board. Anything I could do to remain invisible and not have to talk with anyone.
She, this unknown person, continued to call my name, however.
Oh my God! Get a freakin’ clue. I’m ignoring you.
I assumed once she got that I didn’t want to talk, she’d stop calling me. She didn’t. To make matters worse, at least four other people joined in on her annoying quest to get my attention. I made every effort to stand in line and pretend I didn’t hear them. But it was unbearable. Like getting nudged continually with a fireplace poker in the gut.
Tiring of the noise and wondering why a facilitator hadn’t stopped them from making so much of it, I whirled around and yelled. “What do you want?” However, the large crowd I expected wasn’t present.
Swallowing hard. I glared at the wide-eyed girl behind me. “Did you say something…call my name or something?” She cocked her head to the side and raised one eyebrow. But she didn’t say a word. If it had been her, at least four other people yelled also. I craned my neck past her into the brightly lit hall. No one visible in the hall. I took one more annoyed glance at the girl behind me, then faced forward.
No sooner had I turned than it happened again. “Chloe,” she whispered once. This time, it was only the female voice.
I spun and scowled at the young girl who couldn’t have been older than 14.
“How do you know my name?” I shouted. My reasoning had gone faster than a pair of Louboutin sandals on sale at Saks.
She raised her hands in defense. “Dude, everybody knows who you are. But I didn’t say anything to you. Um…nobody said anything, actually.” I knew she told the truth. The voice didn’t sound the same. The more I contemplated it, the more I realized the voices hadn’t originated behind me at all.
I turned in line, shamed, yet again. Trevor and Nosebleed Girl stared at me like I had a giant talking zit on my forehead. I put my head down and rubbed my throbbing temple. The direction of the voices disturbed me. What if the voices were in my head?
Maybe I am crazy.
Like my mother’s sister, Agnes. She was committed to an asylum up north. A confirmed schizophrenic.
Maybe you’re crazy also, Carmichael
, the voice in my head screeched. This time the voice didn’t scare me as much. I recognized it. It belonged to me.