The Amaryllis

by Alyssa Adamson

  “Sure.” As I strode out onto the walkway, my ‘winter-wear’ still hung from my fingers, unable to at ward off the bite of the wind.

  Zach pulled himself through the window, waving frantically over the roof. “Get a move on, Edy, we’ve got big news to discuss!”

  Frost colored the sidewalk an ominous blue. My butt felt bruised in preparation. “I’m moving as fast as I can.”

  He produced a brown bag from the bowels of his backseat. “Picked it up fresh.”

  “You had time to get Dunkin Donuts? I’ve been sitting in detention every day because of you!”

  He grimaced. “What if I said it’s for you?”

  “Then I suppose I could be persuaded to forgive you.”

  He thrust the bag over the roof and into my free hand. “Figured you might be interested in some tuna salad.”

  “Ah!” I clung to the bag like a lifeline, shoveling the sandwich it held into my face with clawed fingers. “You’re the best!”

  “I know. You can think of all the ways to make it up to me in the car.”

  If not for the stillness that accompanied the snowfall, I wouldn’t have heard the hollow thud of Dad’s fist against the store window. A glance over my shoulder saw his silent plea, “Careful!”

  The store itself looked much unchanged since my childhood, although, back then, the sign had read Amy’s Garden. The building was cozy, brown, cottage-like. Only in recent years, with the inheritance handed down from Grandma’s passing, had we sprung for the greenhouse projections off either wall. We lived up above, separated from the world of living green by a narrow staircase.

  “I knew you had to be buttering me up for something.” I rolled my eyes. “How exactly should I make it up to you?”

  “Let me copy your History homework? I was up all night finishing that paper for Gold. I’m exhausted.”

  “How’re you going to drive if you can’t see?”

  “Figured I’d sleep through English.”

  “You’re an inspiration to us all.”

  His lids drooped before they shut. I swore I heard him snore, startling himself to clarity. “Probably geology, too.”

  “Might as well. Why else would they include the study of rocks in the curriculum if not for nap time?”

  Zach fell into the driver’s seat like a load of bricks. I followed, clutching my bag and my breakfast to my chest just before the car lurched back into the road at ever-increasing speeds. Thirty. Forty. Fifty. Unfamiliar pop music erupted through the speakers.

  I had to scream to hear myself above the noise. “I hope you don’t intend on copying it while you drive.”

  “Just give it to me at lunch. We’ve got bigger things to discuss.” He didn’t wait for me to ask. “So, Ashley texted me this morning from the attendance office. She said she saw new kids.”

  I knew Zach well enough that ‘kids’ must’ve translated to ‘boys.’ Otherwise, he wouldn’t have cared.

  An image of pale hair and violet eyes flashed through my mind.

  When I didn’t instantaneously erupt with enthusiasm, as he’d surely hoped, he tore his eyes away from the road to stare me down. “Nothing? You’ve got to admit we’ve been hurting for a change of scenery!”

  I couldn’t fault him there. New people didn’t come to our town and they especially didn’t bring kids our age. While Joy, Georgia held no scarcity of square footage, a great deal of it was uninhabitable, like the odd cornfield, pumpkin farm, or untamed grassy expanse. And no professional advancement beside the grocery stores or family farms meant people didn’t end up here by accident.

  The population stagnated around a few thousand and the towns around us fared no better.

  “Any guys?” I inquired.

  Zach turned red all the way to his collar. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because you don’t care about the female scenery.”

  “Caught me. Two guys and a girl.”

  Just as I’d suspected. “Did your source find out anything else? Favorite colors? Blood types?”

  “Are you made of stone, woman? I don’t know about you, but I’m getting pretty tired of looking at Brian Elwin’s butt in the cafeteria. I need variety.”

  “You don’t even know what they look like.”

  “Ashley said they’re hot as hell!”

  “I forgot that she was the expert on the subject.” I’d never been friends with this ‘Ashley’ —never been friends with anyone but Zach, really—but I’d seen her around school before. And I’d seen that pizza-faced boyfriend she often hung from. By her judgement, ‘hot as hell’ could mean ‘subpar at best.’

  Zach deflated. “No wonder she wouldn’t send a picture.”

  Even from down the road, I heard the high school blare its homeroom bell, officially proclaiming us late. Again. “Crap. Can you drop me off in front? I can’t get detention today.”

  He shrugged. I suspected the prospect of unattractive new kids had put him in a minor depression. “I guess.”

  No sooner had he stopped the car that I threw myself into motion, casting the door aside and sprinting across the grounds. My bag beat against my spine with every step, bits of croissant and tuna fish from my gifted breakfast raining behind me.

  Art class had never been a favorite of mine. In the words of my teacher, Mrs. Brown, no matter how kindly she tried to phrase it, I was “not artistically inclined.” And I knew it.

  Our very first assignment that year had been common enough: a self-portrait. She’d taken one look at mine and surrendered to her compulsion to laugh before squaring herself back into a professional, albeit purple, mask. She’d concluded, “Great effort, Miss Graves, but maybe you should look at yourself the next time you draw yourself.”

  If not for the treat of detention, I wouldn’t have minded losing a few moments of it. But Mrs. Brown had gotten it into her head that I could be ‘fixed’ if given enough time. Detentions nowadays meant an extra hour in her class after school. Practicing.

  The thought of another day bent over the desk, repeatedly drawing hands until they met her specifications—and they never did—sent me running headlong toward the hall of electives. As the door loomed in the distance, my chest cried for breath. I fell into the room.

  Every set of eyes locked on me.

  Mrs. Brown stood at the board, scrawling out the outline for our newest project in neat cursive: What do you love most? A crown of faux flowers held blonde hair away from her eyes. It made it possible that I saw the change on her face with my untimely entrance. She’d been chipper before I got here. She was always chipper before I got here. “Thank you for joining us, Miss Graves. Please. Sit.”

  My classmates had, predictably, chosen the same desks they normally did, despite our teacher’s flower child sensibilities prohibiting assigned seats. I’d made my home in the way back, in the desk pressed up against the window to more easily comfort myself with the prospect of freedom.

  Until today.

  The more discreet of my classmates glanced over their shoulders at my stolen seat, but an overwhelming majority had turned themselves completely around to stare. The thief, for her part, lounged across the chair like a sofa, arms crossed, head hung over the back as if in sleep. Her eyes hung at half-mast. Rather than at me or her adoring fans around the room, she stared out the window, pupils flickering with each snowflake collecting on the glass. But it wasn’t any of that that contributed toward her draw.

  This stranger looked like nothing I’d ever seen before.

  Her face didn’t budge from a blankness as cool and as grey as stone. Eyes like molten steel stared at nothing. Through nothing. Into nothing. They simply…stared. Blonde locks cascaded over her shoulders in waves so perfect they might’ve been plastic.

  She was the most perfect girl I’d ever seen. Hands down.

  But just as much as she looked beautiful, she looked lifeless. Empty.

  “Y…yes, Mrs. Brown.” I eased toward the back of the room, and my stolen seat, in measured ste
ps. Out of the corner of my eye, I kept my gaze trained on the newcomer. It wouldn’t have shocked me if new girl was not-so-secretly a vampire. It didn’t help my case that my pulse pounded harder in my neck.

  But she didn’t pay me any mind, even as I fell into the chair beside her.

  If it had been any other class, maybe I would’ve paid more thought to the lecture being given up front. But it wasn’t and I didn’t feel bad shirking it to openly gawk at the new girl. For once in my life, I’d found my way into the majority. Across the rows, the rest of the class spared frequent stares as well.

  I could only imagine why.

  The boys would’ve already envisioned themselves taking her home, knowing nothing more about her than what I already did. She was new. She was exciting. She was drop dead gorgeous.

  The girls couldn’t be so easily deduced. Whether for curiosity or jealousy they ogled her under their arms, I didn’t know. After all, I felt pretty curious, myself. New girl sat as still as a human statue, completely oblivious to the class around her. The glare of the institutional lighting set her skin off like chalk.

  But I couldn’t assume they would think so far into their evaluation of our newest addition. The boys paid attention to her. That made her a threat.

  When the bell finally rang, it failed to make me jump like she did as she rushed to her feet. For a statue, she was surprisingly agile, walking faster than anyone should across the room and into the hall, vanishing before the rest of us could budge.

  Mrs. Brown stared after her, mouth open as if to bid her farewell; then she thought better of it and glanced back at us. “I’ll expect your sketches tomorrow.”

  I didn’t even want to entertain the thought of what misery that would mean for me later.

  Instead, I busied myself with what news I’d bring Zach at lunch. If he wanted eye candy, I didn’t think he’d be disappointed—if her brothers were anything like her, of course. But if he thought he’d find boyfriend material in a statue like that, I’d sooner direct him toward Jeffrey Dahmer. At least he could fake a smile.

  ***

  I’d never been much of a fan of school. I hated crowds and I hated studying, but I’d made do this year while I waited to hear back from my top twelve colleges. Cornell had passed, but that didn’t shock me. They had the best horticulture program in the country and my GPA wasn’t up to par—cough, thanks, Mrs. Brown, cough. I’d applied to the University of Illinois because theirs came as a close second, but I probably wouldn’t take it. Illinois was too close. The California Polytechnic State University felt more my speed.

  The smile on Zach’s face as he bolted toward our table with bags of chips crinkling under his arm made it just the slightest bit more bearable.

  “Have you seen him yet?” he demanded.

  My mind unwittingly reflected the image of Lily, so still, so stiff. “I saw her.”

  “Oh no, no, no. You’ve only gotten the appetizer. I was eating a four-course meal in second period. He winked at me. He winked at me.”

  Could it be…?

  I chuckled, already elbow-deep in the chips he set out. “When’s the wedding?”

  “We’re thinking early spring. Not too hot. Not too cold.” He shoveled a handful into his mouth. Then his eyes widened; he pounded on his chest as he choked and sat. “Show time.”

  The rest of the room had already turned to the door and I followed their lead, meeting mercurial eyes across the crowd. The girl from Art class ducked in first, forehead very nearly clipping the top of the archway. Maybe the thought came to me because I could compare her to the other people standing around the cafeteria, but she had to be well over six feet tall. The bony prominences of her limbs protruded from her shirt. That face looked a little less beautiful now that the harsh lights above her could shadow the hollows of her cheeks.

  “Damn,” Zach whispered. “She could turn me.”

  Really? The more I looked at her, the more I believed that she’d escaped from the morgue.

  Her brother stood tall and slim like she did, but, unlike her, he didn’t stare into the abyss. He met people’s stares. He winked. He smirked. His hair, so black it reflected a rainbow in the light, fell over eyes that gleamed deep violet. Eyes I swore I couldn’t find a pupil in.

  Snake eyes.

  “That guy is going to marry me one day.”

  At least, I thought that was what Zach said. Check-out came at 11:02 am when the two new kids stepped away from the door to make room for the third.

  My beautiful customer, looking both younger and older than his siblings. Younger because of the more boyish line of his jaw. Older because of his look of severity. His full lips pouted of their own accord, although they sat in a blank line. Those same snake eyes fixed on the far wall, practically oblivious to the rest of us.

  “Edy, you’re drooling.”

  “I am not!” Nevertheless, I felt across my chin for the nonexistent dribble. “What did you say his name was?”

  “Ha! I knew you’d think they’re delicious. That’s Gregory. Gregory Bronwyn.”

  Somehow, I doubted we spoke about the same person. “He’s very…pretty.”

  Zach gagged on a mouthful of his lunch. “No. His sister is pretty. Gregory is the yummiest thing that’s ever honored this school with its presence. Ever. So watch your mouth.”

  As much as I expected people to jump up in droves to make room for the new kids, no one moved. No one spoke.

  “Should we invite them over here?” he hissed.

  “No way!”

  The Bronwyns fell into step at the end of the lunch line. I should’ve been above watching strangers order food, but the curiosity caught like flue around here and it made me wonder—

  Do the new kids eat soggy pizza, just like us?

  “So,” Zach grinned. “Do you think I’m his type?”

  I had to shake myself free of a stupor. Looking at the Bronwyns felt like looking into a dream. “Who?”

  “Gregory! Who do you think?”

  Truth be told, I prayed for it. Nothing could brighten up my day like the disappointment of two hundred teenage girls finding out their newest obsession bat for another team.

  But Gregory didn’t look around the room again. As Lily finished at the register, tray laden with a soda and nothing else, he followed her through the room and out the door.

  The beautiful stranger held back, hands full with a heavily laden tray that the lady at the register took her time punching into the till. She let her hand linger on his for a second too long, retrieving his money with painful slowness.

  He didn’t seem to mind. Fixing a pleasant-enough smirk on his face, he shook her hand, fingers grazing over her forearm so he could hold it between his palms. The lady stared back, mouth ajar, until he released her. She never stopped staring, even after his smile slipped away. Even after he strode away, giving her a view of his back.

  Even after he disappeared through the door.

  “Guess not,” Zach deadpanned.

  I couldn’t think of what I’d been about to say, so I settled on, “Sorry, champ.”

  Through the window at my back, we all got a good view of the Bronwyns crossing the parking lot to an impressive black Mustang. Out in the snow, their skin glowed with an unnatural tan, like they’d been painted into existence. At least, in Gregory and his brother’s case.

  The girl looked more like a cinderblock. Stony and grey.

  “I better get an A on that essay, ‘cuz there’s no way I’m going to pass another English test while he’s there,” Zach whispered once they’d settled into their car, as though he worried they’d hear.

  Now that they kept out of sight, a weight climbed off my chest. I snuck a potato chip to hide my shaking hands. “Eh. He’s alright.”

  “Dear God, woman, are you insane? That’s the nicest piece of tail this town’s seen since Brian Elwin hit puberty.” He frowned at their car through the glass. “Well this day just took a turn for the worst. Please tell me you’re not working t
onight.”

  “I might plead the fifth so I don’t make your day worse.”

  “Damn it. Right after school?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve got a few hours.”

  “Do you think I could catch another nap at your place?” he inquired. “We’re repainting. Gives me a migraine.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  A hopeful glint lit his eyes. “Maybe a sleepover…?”

  “I guess. Dad won’t care and Mom…won’t be home very long.”

  “She’s got to be home sooner or later.”

  The thought had once occurred to me. Not anymore. “She’s been helping out at the grocery store part time. She’ll be heading over there later. It’s why he needs me.”

  Zach sighed, attention already shifted away from my financial problems and onto the Mustang. “They’ve got the whole school drooling after them and they sit where we can’t even admire them? I don’t get it, Edy. Explain it to me!”

  “Who knows? Maybe we smell bad.”

  “Disappointing.” Luckily, his interest didn’t span far enough that we’d have to suffer through more pining. “You got that History homework? I’ll keep the DD coming if you help me out?”

  I flipped through the mess of papers in my bag until my homework revealed its frayed corners. “I can’t guarantee it’s right.”

  “It’s better than I would do on my own right now.”

  Zach copied my paper until the bell dismissed us, and then ten minutes after our history teacher, an aging woman named Grey, collected them. Halfway through class, he ‘found’ his own and so kindly pointed out that someone must’ve dropped mine, because it lay on the floor all the way across the room. Mrs. Grey didn’t lead on either way whether she believed him or not, but she took them so I chalked Zach up as the victor. Ferguson: 9 Grey: 0.

  I preferred Math, which came after, though unaccompanied by Zach. I understood Math. And when I didn’t, I could study it on my own time. I studied often to stay in Mr. McKinnon’s good graces.

  When I walked through the door, the girl who had been my neighbor sat in my seat. I stilled in mid-step, irrational panic seizing me, as I waited for the world to right itself.