The Amaryllis

by Alyssa Adamson

  I could tell the instant Mrs. Brown saw the sketch. Her hand covered her heart; her mouth fell open. She glanced in the girl’s direction. “Wow. Oh wow! Excellent work, Lily. I’m really looking forward to the painting.”

  The corpse didn’t move. She didn’t give any indication that she’d heard.

  Clearing her throat, Mrs. Brown reluctantly let the subject drop. “So, I’m going to go over these sketches and make sure they’re appropriate. Then, we’ll move on to the canvas.”

  My eyes flickered toward Lily often, hoping and dreading that I’d find her scowling back. At least, if she did, I could transition into a heartfelt apology for encroaching on her personal moment, but she never looked. Even when the bell rang, she didn’t spare me any other mind than to stay far away.

  Zach appeared at my side on the walk from third period to lunch, face pale. The purplish marks under his eyes gave some indication that he hadn’t slept. Still, he grinned. “I have so much to tell you!”

  I wanted to be happy that he was happy but the wounds of his abandonment still felt fresh. I shot him a look that would cut through his enthusiasm like butter. “Where were you?”

  “I had the most amazing night of my life. Oh my god, Ed. We stayed out the whole night, just talking.”

  Talking. Right. “And that made you unable to shoot me a little text? ‘Hey, Edy, I’m trying to catch some sleep. Won’t be able to pick you up.’”

  “I know.” He smiled so serenely, so caught up in whatever thoughts occupied his mind, that I itched to strike him. “I’m sorry. But it—he—Gregory—I don’t even know how to describe it.”

  “I waited for you.”

  “I’m in love.”

  My jaw slackened. Against my every intention, I erupted in peals of laughter. “You’re in love. Really?”

  He nodded. Oblivious.

  “What’s his favorite color?”

  “Blue. Like my eyes.”

  My brow lifted until it pained my face. “Are you kidding me? It’s been one day, Zachary.”

  My scathing tone did the trick. Zach glared. “I didn’t know you were the expert, Mom.”

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “I just don’t like that you’re being a real know-it-all about my life. Can’t you be happy for me? Why do you have to correct everything I do?”

  “I do not—”

  “You do. You think you’re smarter than me. Admit it, Eden, admit it.”

  My face tingled with a distant need to shriek. “I’ve never thought I’m smarter than you.”

  “No? Just right now?” In a poor imitation of my voice, he mocked, “I’ve been sitting in detention every day because of you…The new kids aren’t going to be good looking at all…Where do you put the tampon—?”

  “That one was meant as a joke!”

  “—And you’ve been really rude to Greg when he’s been nothing but sweet to you! Is it not me, then? Do you think you’re better than everybody?”

  I stammered as people around the hall began to stare. “You have to admit you sound a little crazy!”

  “It doesn’t make it crazy just because you don’t agree with it!” Spinning on his heel, he put his back to me and stomped down the hall. Away from the cafeteria.

  How the hell had I become the bad guy here?

  The hot tears of frustration oozed over my skin. I wiped them away but the mess was already made. My reflection in the nearest window had taken on the shade and girth of a newly ripened tomato.

  I ducked into the library and established myself in the furthest reaches of the room, where the most enticing thing to read was the Encyclopedia A-G. Then, I let myself cry. Zach and I hadn’t had a fight in all of the six years we’d known each other. Gregory had only been around twenty-four hours and he’d already screwed that up.

  I collapsed against the nonfiction section. The day had hardly begun; how could I want to go to bed for a week-long hibernation before noon?

  I blamed the winter. Graduation might’ve hung within reach, but I hadn’t yet received an acceptance letter. I’d applied to all the greats: Cornell, Berkeley, Princeton—although I would’ve preferred somewhere a little further than Jersey…

  At this point, I didn’t need a great school. I didn’t even need a good school. I just needed a place to go. A place that wasn’t Joy.

  “Eden?”

  I wanted to groan but I didn’t expect that to improve my pathetic image at the moment. Masking my face with my hands, I wiped in vain at the tear tracks. “Phil.” I powered through a laugh. “What brings you around these parts?”

  I chanced the smallest peek through my fingers; all I could make out was the eclipse. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  He knelt beside me. “You are crying.”

  “I know. I can tell.” I hid further behind my arms. The only thing worse than being caught crying in the library had to be looking into Phil’s face with swollen, blotchy eyes.

  “Are you hurt?” he demanded. The rough flesh of his palms met my wrists with gentle, but firm, intent. He pried them from my face. “Eden. What happened?”

  He stared into my eyes and I fell instantly adrift. The whole world turned clear, pulsing violet. A familiar haze crept over my mind, turning my body to mush and whispering in my ear to confide in him. Cry with him. Touch him.

  Unlike yesterday, it was easy to escape Phil’s charms. The moment that suffocating influence crept over my mind, I shied away, turning into the shelf to hide. “No. I’m not hurt.”

  Sinking out of his grip, I grabbed what little I’d brought with me and staggered to my feet. Phil didn’t hesitate to take my waist to steady me. “Then—”

  “I think I’m going to head to lunch,” I lied. My growling stomach backed me up. “I’ll see you in Calc.” Unfortunately, Phil didn’t let up his grip. “Excuse me.”

  “I can tell when you lie, Eden. There is no need to tell stories with me,” he deadpanned. “You are avoiding me.”

  Maybe. Just a little bit. Not because I wanted to, of course—who would want to avoid Phil?—but because, if I came close enough, I didn’t trust myself not to touch him and fall adrift again.

  “How can you tell?”

  “Intuition,” he said. “Besides, it is written on your face.”

  I sighed. “Of course it is.”

  “I think you would feel better if you ate in here. With me.”

  My mind, at once, celebrated and rebelled against the idea. Even if I wasn’t anxious about being alone with Phil—and what awkward conversation today would bring—I hadn’t brought food. “I don’t have anything.”

  “Have mine,” He gestured to the window and the lunch tray balanced against it.

  “I don’t want to take your food.”

  “I had a large breakfast,” he admitted. After my moment’s hesitation, he continued, “If you would prefer, I could go to the cafeteria and get you your own.”

  “Or—third choice—I could go to the cafeteria and get my own.”

  “Then you would have to confront whatever it is in the cafeteria that you are avoiding.”

  “I’m not avoiding anything.”

  “You are lying again,” he said. “If you are not avoiding anything, then why hide in here?”

  I chewed on my cheek. “Just…admiring the literature.” Nevertheless, I found myself drawn to the window, and the food lying there. “Thank you.”

  He pushed his sandwich closer when I went for the fries. It was his only reply.

  “You’re spoiling me.”

  “You will starve if I do not. Please. Eat.” Phil pulled up two chairs from a nearby table and sat. Tossing a handful of fries into my mouth, I followed his example. “Will you tell me what made you cry now?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you accepted my bribe.”

  I returned the sandwich to the tray sans bite. “Funny. You always this full of jokes or just with me?”


  His silence was answer enough. Not a joke.

  “It doesn’t exactly work if you tell me you’re buttering me up.”

  “You want to tell me,” he countered, eyes following my hands as I brought each fry to my mouth. “I don’t know why you fight it.”

  I snorted. “You can’t know any such thing.”

  “I can. You want to tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Yeah?” I challenged. “What else can you tell?”

  Phil crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat to appraise me as a whole. I’d only asked the question as a diversion; now, I regretted it. The way he looked at me made me feel like a specimen under a microscope.

  Finally, he deduced. “I can tell that you are attracted to me.”

  I choked. As my skin turned hotter, my brain lost all ability to reply. What did one say to that anyway?

  And my reaction didn’t go unnoticed by Phil. The continued silence made the flat line of his lip ease downward.

  I dropped what remained of my ‘bribe’ and leapt to my feet. “Eden?” he inquired, perpetually stoic face making way for a flash of panic.

  As I swept toward the exit, I kept my lip zipped.

  “Eden!” His chair cracked against the floor. In my mind’s eye, I imagined Phil jumping up to follow.

  The door slammed shut under my hand and a few stragglers wandering the halls turned to stare. Once again red-faced, I ducked my head. Then, I walked. Not to the cafeteria, of course—even if there was still such a long lunch period to go. Walking in late, and, not to mention, alone, wouldn’t make me look mysterious like the Bronwyns. It just reaffirmed what people already knew about me.

  Nothing.

  The only difference a late arrival would make was in how loud my nothingness could be. If I walked in teary-eyed and without a friend to sit with, even I’d call myself a bit of a show-off.

  It made me miss Zach like crazy. His child-like enthusiasm made him braver than me and I knew he would’ve dragged me by my arm before he let me exile myself to the library; I was enough of a recluse already. Besides, he could’ve provided distraction enough from my shame.

  I should’ve known better. Better than to want for Zach. Better than to cry. Better than to think I could keep myself composed in front of Phil.

  Sounds of pursuit followed me down the hall. Phil. “Eden!”

  As I rounded the corner, I ducked into the bathroom. The thump of his heavy footfalls continued across the carpet, coming so close to the door that my heart lurched into my throat.

  “I know you are in there, Eden.” I kept very quiet, but his shadow never strayed from the glass. “Eden? If you do not speak, I will have to assume you are unconscious and in need of my help.”

  “Go away.”

  Phil hesitated. “You want me to leave?”

  “Yes,” I breathed. “Please, go away?”

  His shadow grew even darker and more Phil-like as the door opened. He peeked through the crack. “Are you alright?”

  My astonishment that he would enter the women’s room easily overshadowed my awe at the slip in his emotionless mask. Phil looked upset. Nervous.

  Hungry.

  “You can’t be in here!” I enthused, arm outstretched to shut the door. “Go.”

  “Only if you come out.” He seized my elbow. “Could we…talk some more?”

  If not for those eyes, and a face so beautiful it rendered me breathless, I would’ve refused him outright. As it happened, I couldn’t find my tongue through the haze.

  “Eden?”

  And to drift along a violet sea felt so much better than wallowing alone in the bathroom…

  “Edy?”

  I winced, searching for control of my arms. I didn’t recall giving him permission to call me that…I didn’t recall giving him permission to touch me… “Stop it.”

  Surprise flickered across that face. “What—?”

  With renewed fervor, I pulled myself from his grip. “I said stop!”

  “Stop what?”

  Without his touch and standing in a quiet room, breathing heavily, the thoughts creeping into my head felt all the more ludicrous. But I was all in now and I swore—now more than ever before—that Phil’s solemn face had to be an act. “I…I don’t know what you’re doing, but I want you to stop.”

  He held his hands up in surrender, but, nevertheless, stood rooted in place. His heat wafted across my skin. “I am not sure what you mean. I’m not doing anything.”

  I retreated a few steps that he matched with his own. “You…you’re lying!”

  “Perhaps I should bring you to the nurse—?”

  “No!” I dodged the hand he extended to feel my forehead. “I am not crazy. You’re doing something. You keep doing something, when you touch me. Stop. Please, stop!”

  His fingers flinched away like I’d electrocuted him. The look on his face darkened, dancing a fine line between blank and scowling. “No one will believe that.”

  My jaw dropped. Even to myself, I’d sounded half-crazed. An admission of guilt hadn’t been very high on my list of expectations. “What does that mean—?”

  “It means your rantings are just that: the rantings of a woman gone a little bit crazy. Who do you think would believe you?”

  I bit my tongue, head spinning with the taste of blood. “Says the guy who followed me into the women’s room. If I’m so crazy, why are you following me?”

  “Ensuring you don’t hurt yourself—”

  I snorted. “I’ve got some intuition, too, Phil. Enough to know when someone’s BS-ing me. Why did you follow me? Just let the crazy lady tire herself out if that’s what I am.”

  He froze, appraising me in long, languid strokes of the eyes. “You make me feel…better.”

  He brought me up short. Surprise displaced my rage and, with it, my courage to argue. By the time I regained the use of my tongue, he’d already turned on his heel and vanished through the door.

  He didn’t return. Not for Calc. Not for Astronomy. And not for Gym.

  And I’d thought the day couldn’t get any worse. First, Zach. Now, Phil. I wondered if I should find somewhere else to be after school so I wouldn’t lose my parents to this magnetic repulsion.

  So engrossed in thoughts on the matter, I didn’t notice the slender body approaching me in the hall until his shoulder struck me, shoving my back into a locker. “Ow.”

  A foreign hand seized mine, pulling me close. “Eden Graves.” The air tasted of lilies and hot summer air. “What have I told you about looking where you are going?”

  The flesh under my fingers scraped like hard scales. Still, I clung to them like a woman possessed, unconscious as to the whys or the hows of my hand no longer acting as my own. Just like I recalled with Phil, the ground vanished underfoot, wishing to drop me into his arms.

  Then I remembered, and my distaste made me strong enough to hesitate.

  Gregory smiled down at me, bringing both sets of my knuckles to his lips. “You must be in quite the rush.”

  The feel of his mouth, just as harsh and scaly as the rest of him, gave me the push I needed to yank myself away. My powers of repulsion might’ve been welcome, after all. “Please don’t touch me.”

  Unlike everyone else, though, Gregory didn’t seem so much repulsed as amused. “Of course, Edy. I apologize.”

  “Eden. It’s…it’s Eden.”

  Despite the lack of contact, the trance he’d placed on me hung in the air. I blamed it for my inability to look away from his polite smile. My hands burned where he’d touched me, and not entirely unpleasantly.

  I felt violated.

  Wiping the feel of him off my palms, I made my escape. I didn’t know whether Zach had any intention of driving me home, but, in case he did, I didn’t want to risk being stuck in a confined space with his new friend. Not again.

  “What has you in a rush?” he inquired, stepping closer as if to follow me.

  “Just busy.”

  He quirked his brow condescendingly.
“Am I to assume, then, that you will not be joining us in the car?”

  I felt his eyes on me long after I turned my back. My skin prickled with it and my fingers shook over the combination to my locker. After my fourth try, I thought I heard the ghost of Gregory’s laugh, but, when I scowled over my shoulder, he was nowhere to be seen.

  5. Angel

  Morning came with rain and a pulsing in my brain like bass from a stereo. I laid in bed long after the alarm went off, forsaking the roses to listen to the drops strike my window. Mom had already come and gone. Then Dad. If their hasty exits were anything to go by, I imagined I probably looked as bad as I felt. If not for the weakness weighing me down like pockets of stones, I would’ve run from the room. Run from sleep. Run from my dreams.

  I could suffer through a night filled with Phil’s face. To a point, I might’ve even enjoyed it. But if there were one thing on this Earth I could not—would not—tolerate, it was dreams of Gregory.

  Shutting my eyes again, I prayed for dreamless rest. As I reached the border of consciousness, the creaking door pulled me back to the surface.

  “’D?”

  Zach’s voice sounded like it came from far away. I barely paid it any mind in my half-conscious state.

  Then his body collapsed atop mine.

  Groaning, I tried in vain to roll away, gasping for precious air. The fatigue in my bones meant combating his hundred and ten pounds came as an impossibility. “Get off!” When, finally, I managed to ease out from beneath him, I fought with my blankets until they fell to the floor in a heap. “What are you doing?”

  His face came into view, red and swollen and wet.

  “What happened?”

  He hesitated, shaking with another bout of sobs. Tears sprung forth in a flood. “He doesn’t want to see me anymore!”

  Inwardly, I breathed a deep sigh of relief. Still, I opened my arms and let him throw himself into my embrace. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. That sucks. That really, really sucks.”

  “He said I was too immature. I wasn’t too immature when I was…” he didn’t finish. The sobs stole his voice.

  Heat lit up my innards. It didn’t surprise me one bit that Zach had been used and discarded; it seemed like exactly the sort of thing to expect from Gregory. I wanted to hit him. Hit him hard.