Muse Song, #1

by Sarah Biglow

  2

  I watched Abbie disappear into the hallway, my mouth hanging open. Peter turned back to the board and hastily erased the poem. As he started for his seat, face still flushed, I realized I was standing. I hadn’t meant to leave my seat or speak out but I was just so tired of everyone blaming Abbie for things she couldn’t control. She hadn’t said anything to me last period but I could tell she’d been crying and it killed me that I couldn’t tell her I understood what she was going through. She’d think I was mental because, despite how often it happened, I was almost certain she had no idea why she could make things happen. But I did.

  Last year, instead of getting the sex talk when I hit puberty, my father sat me down for the God talk. According to him, being the son of the Greek God of the Underworld gave me certain powers of my own. Suddenly, I could see the auras of other Greek deities. I’d learned to tune out the faint aura around the people at school for the most part. At home, where my father didn’t care who saw or felt his power, it was far more difficult. I didn’t want to tune out Abbie, ever. Of course, I’d been too scared to tell her I’d fancied her since the start of the year.

  As if being the spawn of Hades himself wasn’t bad enough, I’d gotten stuck with a stepmother intent on psychoanalyzing me whenever possible. Apparently even now, Hades and Persephone ended up together and ruined people’s lives. Namely mine. Thanks to her, my mum divorced Dad when I was seven because she caught them having an affair. Mum moved back to England and I got stuck with them because Dad got sole custody.

  I sunk back into my seat and waited for Ms. Eisner to continue the lesson, a little of my anger burning off. She took a few minutes to compose herself before resuming her lecture. Instead of paying attention, my mind drifted to the first time I’d noticed Abbie’s ability. We’d been in world history in early October and Abbie had looked into a junior girl’s eyes—her name was Audrey—just for a second and then Abbie’s aura flared bright around her. She’d hummed a little tune and touched Audrey’s neck, prompting her to serenade the class about Ancient Egypt. The teacher hadn’t been amused by the interruption and both Audrey and Abbie had gotten detention. Being able to tell someone was part of the Greek pantheon was all well and good but it didn’t help much that it didn’t come with a handy field guide of who’s who. As best I could tell—solely based on watching her and the fact that everyone affected seemed inspired—Abbie was one of the nine Muses.

  Ms. Eisner stopped droning on long enough for everyone to hear Abbie being summoned to the principal’s office over the PA system. I gripped my pencil harder than necessary as Peter smiled and puffed his chest out, proud he hadn’t gotten into trouble this time. I hoped Abbie wouldn’t be in too much trouble over this. As soon as I got home I was going to make sure she was okay.

  3

  Waiting thirty seconds, I dragged myself to my feet and beat the familiar path to the central office. I walked in and took up residence in the chair to the right of the principal’s office. Any minute, the secretary would glance up for the ten seconds it took to nod that I could go in. It was a ritual we’d almost perfected. In the distance, the end of period bell blared.

  As usual, the secretary sitting at the front desk was bent over a computer and the administrative assistant was filling teacher mailboxes with newsletters. It was like I wasn’t even there. They were so used to me I got as much notice as a potted plant. Seen and then forgotten. I imagined what Principal Tannery would say once we were face to face, that I was always disrupting class, and I couldn’t control myself around other students. I hated that I couldn’t explain why I was drawn to people and I was so tired of being treated like the biggest liar on the face of the planet. But even more, I was tired of feeling so alone. If only everyone else could act like I wasn’t there. Then I wouldn’t have a chair in the office with my ass permanently imprinted on it. Just as I settled in for the wait, Mom burst through the door and her eyes immediately zeroed in on me. I couldn’t meet her gaze. Panic gripped me around the middle and cold sweat broke out on my neck and upper lip. Principal Tannery had called Mom before he even talked to me.

  I am in so much trouble.

  Mom didn’t need to say a word for me to know just how deep her anger ran. “Abigail, what did you do this time?”

  I didn’t have time to respond before the door beside me opened and the secretary nodded that we could go in. Trying to steady my breathing, I collected my books and headed in, Mom hot on my heels. Principal Tannery sat behind his desk and wore an expression of deep disappointment and annoyance at having his day interrupted. As if principals did anything overly important. I set my books on the floor and took the seat opposite him. Mom sat stiff-backed in the chair to my left.

  The principal stared at me with his intense gray eyes peering up from beneath his bushy eyebrows. “Do you know why you’re here, Miss Rollands?”

  “I did something wrong … again.”

  “What happened this time?” Mom fussed with the keys in her purse—one of her tells, telegraphing how angry she was under the surface.

  The words began pouring out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Everything was fine until algebra. Then things just … happened.”

  “What kind of things?”

  I studied the tall shelves of books on child rearing and education around me. “I got to class late and Mrs. Eisner yelled at me. But it wasn’t—”

  The keys stopped jangling. “Why were you late?”

  “Mr. McManus needed to talk to me.” I waived away her concern about my tardiness. “Anyway, it doesn’t even matter. We were going over the homework and Peter Morgan told me to be quiet. I wasn’t even doing anything and then … I just touched him for a second. Then he got up to do one of the problems on the board.” I stopped talking before I spilled about my mini staring contest with Liam. They didn’t need to know about Liam. I rubbed my nose. “When Peter got up to the board, he wrote this poem about a girl in class, Shelley, instead of doing the problem. He looked so embarrassed.”

  Mom let out an exasperated breath. “And how did you get into trouble?”

  Principal Tannery remained silent as I bit my lower lip. “I guess I was humming. Peter accused me of making him write the poem but I didn’t even talk to him. I kind of yelled at him. I guess that’s why I got kicked out of class.”

  Mom barely stifled a groan. “We’ve talked about the humming, Abbie.”

  I tried not to let either of them know the scrutiny made me nervous. Weakness would only earn me further punishment. So I pressed my back into the hard wood of the chair and pressed my lips together. An uncomfortable silence fell between us while Mr. Tannery flipped through the rather voluminous pages of my school record. I’d lost track of just how often I’d been here, having this conversation.

  “We have a problem, Abigail.” He leaned forward with his eyebrows still pinched together and propped his chin on his steepled fingers.

  I stayed silent. Nothing I said would make the situation any better and I wasn’t sure I would be able to form a coherent sentence with the principal leaning over me like that and Mom ready to explode beside me. The knots from earlier returned in full force and I bit the inside of my lip to keep from puking.

  “You’ve been in my office eight times in the last three months for disrupting class, at least two dozen times in the whole school year. Why do you think that is?”

  I looked at the floor and then the bookshelf. Anywhere but Principal Tannery’s face. “I don’t mean to bother people. I wish I could explain what happens but I can’t. I know the teachers think it’s because I hum but that never mattered before. Did Ms. Eisner ever think people did things in her class because she’s so boring?” I finally met his gaze. “But you won’t believe me. You never do.” My voice got louder. “I’m just the troublemaker.” I hadn’t meant to start yelling.

  Mr. Tannery sat back in his chair, the leather squeaking against his suit jacket as he gaped at me. Apparently my slight outburst had caught him off guar
d. His brows still hadn’t separated and I honestly wondered if they were stuck like that. A quick sideways glance revealed that Mom’s cheeks had lost all color.

  “I’ve looked at your school record and things didn’t start happening until last year. What happened then?”

  Heat flared in my chest and sound fell away, replaced by a painful ringing. Acid scorched my throat so I couldn’t breathe. My hands curled into claws on the arms of the chair in an effort to keep from shaking in anger. He could talk to me about the outbursts until hell froze over but my parents’ divorce was off limits. “Abigail, I want an answer.”

  And I wanted him to shut the hell up. Taking a deep breath and swallowing past the acid, I answered through gritted teeth. “My parents divorced. And, no, that’s not the reason things keep happening so don’t bring it up.”

  Mr. Tannery’s brows finally dislodged themselves and flew up to his hairline. He coughed and turned his attention to the file sitting on his desk. He made a show of flipping through the pages before looking at Mom.

  “Ms. Rollands, I’m sorry to ask you to come in the middle of the day but I’m afraid detention isn’t going to solve the issue this time.”

  An involuntary shudder danced down my spine. Even before the principal said anything else, I knew I’d really done it this time. Mom’s gaze bored into the side of my head in silent disapproval.

  “I’m going to have to suspend Abbie for three days. This is the eighth time in three months she’s been in my office for disrupting class. And she seems to be having some anger management issues that need to be addressed. Normally it would be a full week but since we are so close to the end of school, I’m going to be lenient.”

  Lenient, my ass. Still, I hadn’t expected suspension. I knew kids got suspended for fighting or vandalizing the lockers or other school property but not for disrupting class. The room was silent save Mom’s little grunts of breath, which signaled she was really angry but couldn’t find words to express herself. After a few seconds of annoyed sounds and swallowing, she looked at me. “Go wait outside.”

  I wanted to say something, anything to apologize, but it wouldn’t help my cause. I was persona non grata right now and maybe for the rest of high school. Until my eighteenth birthday for sure. So I let the adults talk, leaving the door ajar so I could eavesdrop on whatever Mom didn’t want me to hear. Instead of sitting down in the chair, I hovered by the door. The receptionist gave me a stern look—hey, I was an actual person now—but I refused to move. Even with the door ajar, it was hard to hear the conversation. Still, one word stood out that was far worse than suspension. Psychologist.

  Were they talking about the resident guy in the guidance office? Despite my track record, I’d never been referred to him. I’d heard stories from other students about how he made people read fortunes with phrases like “be your best” and “respect yourself” on them. How that actually helped with their problems, I couldn’t tell you.

  Mom and Dad had tried to get me to see someone after their divorce, when the outbursts started happening at school. Well, Mom had been the proponent and, since Dad disagreed, I had remained free from additional adult prodding.

  The door opened and I darted to a chair, trying to act like I’d been butt-in-chair the whole time and hadn’t overheard their conversation about the psychologist. Shaking her head, Mom gripped the car keys in a white-knuckled fist. “Let’s go.”

  Following Mom to my locker and then out into the cool afternoon breeze, I stayed quiet. I wasn’t stupid. I knew she was on the verge of exploding as we got into the car and she pulled out of the parking lot. She would do her tongue lashing in private.

  Neither of us had spoken a word since we left school. I was more than a little afraid of what Mom might say given the fury clouding her features. Desperate to break the silence, I tried the apology route. "Mom... I'm really sorry."

  Mom stayed silent, eyes fixed on the road ahead. Finally, as the car pulled off the highway onto the maze of streets leading home, I caught her gaze in the rearview mirror. Mom looked away first. "You shouldn’t have yelled at the principal."

  I gripped the side of my seat. “He shouldn’t have asked me about the divorce. I told him to back off. I shouldn’t have to talk about things that make me uncomfortable. Especially with him.”

  “I think maybe you should talk to someone about it. You’ve been acting out ever since your dad and I split up. I know it’s been hard on you—”

  “You don’t know.” Anger turned the taste in my mouth sour. “You just came home one day and told me Dad was moving out. No real explanation. I wasn’t a kid anymore, Mom. You could have told me the truth.”

  “People just drift apart sometimes.”

  I shook my head. “Then you should have said that. And it’s not like you’re friendly with each other. You still shout at each other whenever you’re in the same room.”

  “Abigail, that’s not fair.”

  “Why not? It’s true. You fight more now than you did when you were together.” I turned to look out the window, hoping some of my anger would dissipate. My emotions were damn roller coaster today and it was exhausting. I inhaled a slow breath and let it out through my mouth. Turning back around, I caught Mom looking at me in the rearview mirror again. Light flashed in her pupils and I wanted to believe it was a trick of the sunlight reflecting off the glass but it wasn’t. I started to hum a more complex melody than with my classmates. Without being able to control it, my left hand drifted until it brushed against Mom’s leg.

  "We aren’t done discussing this." Mom’s knuckles whitened as she gripped the steering wheel but she opened her mouth and a soft song issued forth. Warmth seeped into every pore of my body and I sighed. The feeling didn’t last nearly long enough to dispel the fury and fear before Mom’s body jerked and her hands relaxed on the wheel. “Abigail, stop it."

  "I didn’t mean to.”

  Minutes later, Mom took the last left onto our street and pulled into our driveway. I undid my seatbelt and darted from the car before she cut the ignition. She was right behind me.

  "Abigail, do not walk away from me."

  I stopped in the front hall. Hiding in my room wouldn’t solve anything so I tossed my backpack on the floor and waited for Mom’s scolding. She said nothing at first. The silence that fell was so palpable I felt it crushing my lungs. I fought to breathe. I still didn’t understand why today had earned me a suspension when the outburst was no different than any of the others.

  Mom walked into the kitchen and rubbed at her temples. "You really worry me, Abbie.”

  I shrunk back at her words. "I don't mean to get people into trouble. I try to just avoid everyone but things still keep happening. And I’ve been saying that the whole damn year and no one believes me. You’re my mom. You’re supposed to be on my side."

  "Don’t swear.”

  “Sorry.”

  Mom raked her hands through her hair. “You have to stop humming. It’s a distraction to other people and it’s getting them and you into trouble. I thought you’d be old enough to realize that you can’t always do what you want.”

  I didn’t argue. It was pointless. I knew I couldn’t stop humming and that wasn’t the answer Mom wanted to hear. "How long am I grounded for this time?"

  "Two weeks. No phone, internet or TV."

  Great. Worst two weeks of my life. "I’m still seeing Dad this weekend."

  There was no way Mom would refuse to let me go. She didn’t want to be back in court for failing to abide by the visitation schedule. Dad wasn’t above threatening legal action to spend time with me.

  "You better tell him you're grounded."

  "Fine. Whatever. Can I go now?"

  Mom nodded but followed me down the hall to my room. Before I could make a move toward my computer to see if Liam had sent me a message on Facebook, she yanked the Ethernet cable from the port and disabled the Wi-Fi. So much for that route. As stealthily as I could, I fished my phone out of the bottom of my bag. I�
�d just turned it on when Mom swiped it from me.

  “I’ll call you when dinner is ready. You use your computer for homework only. Is that understood?”

  What did I need to do homework for? I wasn’t going to school until sometime next week. But I nodded mutely and watched her stalk off down the hall. For a fleeting moment I considered trying to find the Wi-Fi password but that hope died just as quickly as it had come. Mom would notice and I’d be in more trouble than I was already. In the privacy of my room, I flung myself onto my bed and let a fresh batch of tears dampen my cheeks, soaking into the pillowcase. How had all of this gotten so screwed up?

  Just as I dried my eyes for what felt like the millionth time that day, I heard Mom’s voice in the hallway. "Dave, we have to talk."

  I crept to the doorway and peered out, homework forgotten. Despite the impending blowout, I knew Dad would be in my corner.

  "Abbie got sent to the principal's office again."

  Mom went quiet as Dad said something on the other end. Then, "It was the eighth time in the last three months, Dave." Mom paced in a tight circle, tugging at loose strands of hair. "She got suspended for three days. And, honestly, I can’t blame the principal. It’s getting out of hand."

  Her voice grew fainter and I strained to hear what was being said but only caught snatches of frustrated phrases. Finally, Mom turned back toward my room and I ducked out of view and eased my bedroom door almost completely closed.

  "You don't see it because you're hardly with her." Mom spun around so her back faced me. "Don't you ‘Cathy’ me. This is not about us, Dave. It’s about our daughter."

  Peering out through the crack in the doorway, I caught Mom rubbing the back of her neck. Another telltale sign of stress. "The principal suggested counseling. He gave me the name of someone he knows." She moved a few paces down the hallway and, by the look on her face, I knew Dad had said something to set her off. Her jaw clenched and her forehead crinkled. "Yes, a shrink. I think we should try it. Letting her do what she wants obviously isn't fixing the problem. And I don’t want to hear that she doesn’t get into trouble in every class. There is a problem that isn’t being addressed and it needs to be."