The Watcher

by Lisa Voisin

  “Besides,” I added, “I need to freshen up.”

  I’d read once that the antidote to some venoms is to inject small doses of the venom and let the body develop its own antivenin. They do this with farm animals, horses, sheep, and goats. I would have to do this to myself with Michael. See him in small doses at school every day until seeing him no longer made me suffer. I couldn’t expect Damiel to understand, but I needed some time alone to prepare myself for a class with Michael. I needed to let the small dose of him I’d just seen in the cafeteria prepare me for the larger dose.

  Damiel squeezed my shoulders gently a few times, and I sighed. I was so tired all of a sudden, I could have taken a nap right then and there. He dropped his hands and whispered in my ear, his breath almost tickling my skin. “See you in class, beautiful.” I drank it in and walked away, not looking at anyone on my way out.

  Perhaps Damiel was an antidote all by himself.

  Chapter Ten

  I slept so deeply that night I almost missed my alarm. I awoke Thursday morning feeling jarred, and while I managed to pull myself together for school, I couldn’t shake the damp cloak of sleepiness that hung over me. Before my first class, I saw Damiel talking to Fiona at her locker. For some reason she wasn’t responding to him, not even flirting. Her normally straight shoulders curled in toward her chest, and she dragged books out of her bag as though each one weighed fifty pounds. Damiel was focused intently on her, and when he touched her arm, my stomach flinched in response.

  Farouk joined me in the hallway, his gaze following mine. “Is Fiona okay?”

  “I don’t know. She looks pretty sad.” I made a mental note to check in with her later. “What could Damiel be saying to her?”

  He gave me a puzzled look. “Damiel?”

  I motioned over my shoulder. “Yeah. Talking to Fiona.”

  “I see Fiona, but Damiel’s not with her.”

  I looked back in their direction and Damiel was gone. “That’s so odd,” I said, “he was just there. Didn’t you see him?”

  Farouk was contemplative. “You know, my sister Fatima sees things.”

  “I’m not seeing things!”

  Unfazed by my reaction, he continued, “She had a vision about our uncle when we were ten.”

  I thought about asking if Fatima ever saw shadows or strange flashing lights or even people who weren’t actually there, but decided against it. “What was it about?”

  “She saw him in a car crash with a drunk driver on his way home. She was so upset, my mother convinced him to stay in the guest room that night. The next day, we heard about someone else getting killed in an accident on the same road. That’s when we knew it saved his life.”

  I shivered. Did he think I was seeing things the way his sister did? “This is nothing like that. I’m sure he was just there.” I inclined my head in Fiona’s direction and bit my lip. The last thing I needed was to be having visions. First Michael, then Damiel? Was I incapable of talking to a gorgeous guy without hallucinating about him? Motioning in the direction of my class, I waved as Farouk and I parted ways.

  Damiel kept to himself in English. He sat at the back of the room, and after smiling and winking at me he focused mostly on the lecture. Michael’s blue eyes were even more intense against the blue shirt he wore, and he even smiled a hello to me before he sat down. I was beginning to think that Damiel wasn’t working as an antidote to him anymore. I was going to have to be a big girl and suffer through this crush.

  I became increasingly curious about Damiel’s conversation with Fiona because, surely, I couldn’t have made it up. He could have been interested in her too, though from how sad she looked it seemed more like he’d rejected her. I kept an eye out for him at lunch, but neither he nor Michael was around.

  I did spend a fun lunch break with Heather, Farouk, Jesse, and Dean in the cafeteria, where we finalized our movie plans for the next night.

  “Where’s Fiona?” I asked.

  “She had to go to the library,” Dean replied. “Something about a history test.”

  Heather had begun treating the movie outing like some kind of team building exercise. She’d expertly planned the night, giving everyone specific roles. Dean and Fiona would meet us there with tickets, Farouk and I would line up for popcorn, and she and Jesse would stand in line for seats. We planned to get there at least an hour early to allow for all this. If we ran into any difficulty, we would text each other, staying in constant communication. All in all, it was a plan worthy of international espionage, which was perfect considering we were seeing a spy movie.

  Farouk eyed me a few times during lunch, but thankfully didn’t say anything about our earlier conversation in front of the others. He seemed to have something on his mind, so I wasn’t surprised when he walked me back to my locker after lunch. I thought he was going to bring up his sister’s vision again, but instead he asked me a question.

  “Are you seeing Damiel?”

  Caught off guard, I stammered, “I–I wouldn’t say I’m seeing him, but he asked me out.”

  He frowned and leaned on the locker beside mine. “Why go out with him?”

  It took me a moment to realize what Farouk was asking. Was I leading him on by accepting a ride to the movie? Was it a date? Come to think of it, the others had paired off into couples. It was best to clear up any relationship confusion as soon as possible.

  “Farouk, the movie is just a movie, isn’t it?”

  “Well, it’s supposed to be quite good.”

  I tried again. “I mean, you’re a sweet guy, and any girl would be lucky to date you—”

  “I didn’t mean…” His brown skin flushed slightly red.

  “Oh!” I said, embarrassed all of a sudden. God, did I sound full of myself!

  “I saw you and Michael the other day and I thought…”

  I heard a siren and ignored it at first, but its wails grew louder as it approached the school.

  “No. No,” I said, “he’s seeing someone.”

  The siren stopped, and flashing colored lights filled the halls. Everyone stopped walking to class as two paramedics rushed through with a stretcher. They hurried past us to the office, then toward the girls’ changing room.

  Farouk and I joined the other kids who were following the paramedics, trying to figure out what was going on. A buzz of panic filled the halls as teachers tried to usher us into classrooms, but we wouldn’t move. We gathered, waiting to find out what had happened and who had been hurt.

  A few minutes later they rolled the stretcher out, with a girl on it. I couldn’t see her face because the EMTs blocked my view, but one of her wrists was bandaged. Ms. Callou, the guidance counselor, followed behind them, her lips pressed firmly together, her T-shirt stained with blood.

  “It was a suicide attempt,” I heard someone whisper. As everyone asked each other what was going on, I heard the whispered words “suicide attempt” echo through the halls.

  As they passed, I saw a mass of strawberry blond hair and my heart caught in my throat. Her hands were over her face, but I recognized Fiona immediately. I took a step toward her, but one of the paramedics, a tall woman with graying blond hair, held up a hand to stop me.

  “Make room,” she said.

  “She’s my friend,” I explained.

  “You can see her later.”

  A hot rush of fluid hit the base of my throat. I swallowed hard and took a step back. Farouk touched my arm, and I turned to him. There was nothing to say. The combination of shock and surprise on his face told me we were both thinking the same thing. Why would bright, vivacious Fiona want to kill herself?

  They’d closed the school after the ambulance left, as if sending us home would stanch the flow of rumors. Heather and I rushed to the hospital and spent most of the late afternoon in the waiting room. We hoped someone would let us see our friend or help us make sense of what had happened, but only her immediate family was allowed to see her. My mom wasn’t at work, so even she couldn’t help. Afte
r a nurse told Fiona’s parents that her condition was stable, her mother broke down and cried. Her father shook as he held her, his face gray and tight. He spoke to her in hushed tones. I’d never felt so useless, not even the day my parents split up.

  Rather than burdening Fiona’s mom and dad further by hanging around, Heather and I decided to go downstairs. We wandered aimlessly, not sure where to go. Neither of us ready to go home yet, we ordered some flowers from the gift shop and headed to the cafeteria.

  I picked at my beef vegetable soup, but Heather couldn’t eat at all. Her coffee sat on the table in front of her getting cold. She’d crumpled a paper napkin between her fingers, the edges twisted into points, and her eyes were red and splotchy from crying.

  “Why didn’t I see the signs?” she asked.

  “What signs?”

  “That Fiona was depressed.” Heather blew her nose into the napkin, then left it in a heap on the table. “She’s always so upbeat.”

  “She didn’t have any signs,” I said. Then I remembered how unhappy Fiona had seemed talking to Damiel that morning. My eyes stung. I didn’t even go talk to her. What kind of friend did that make me?

  “I guess she didn’t,” she said, pulling another napkin out of the dispenser and worrying it with her fingers. “I know it’s terrible to think of myself in a moment like this, but what kind of psychotherapist will I be if I can’t even help my own friends?”

  I grabbed one of Heather’s hands and squeezed it. “You’re going to be a great therapist one day, and Fiona is going to be fine.”

  “How do you know?” Heather asked, blinking back more tears.

  “I just do,” I said, and in that moment I did.

  “You mean some kind of sixth sense?” She smoothed the crumpled napkin onto the table and refolded it. “You know I don’t believe in that.”

  “I know,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean you’re right.”

  ***

  Friday was mild and sunny. It hadn’t rained for a couple of days and the fallen leaves had a chance to dry out in the sun. As I walked to school, I received another text from someone I barely knew asking about Fiona. That made a dozen since yesterday. I ignored it. I’d avoided the Internet too, not wanting to think what Elaine must have said, for surely she’d capitalize on someone else’s pain for her own popularity. It was all a horrible mess.

  What would make Fiona want to leave us like that? Without even saying goodbye? She had a great family, friends who cared about her. She got along with everyone. Why would she ever want to kill herself?

  I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I didn’t notice the white VW pull up beside me. Immediately recognizing the car, I tensed.

  Michael rolled down the passenger window.

  “Get in,” he said. “I’ll drive you.”

  I shook my head, keeping my tone icy. “I’m almost there.”

  I kept walking. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and parked it, grabbing his bag on the way out. I didn’t wait for him, but with his long legs it only took seconds for him to catch up with me.

  “We need to talk,” he said. “Please?”

  His voice was as soft as a caress, and it was sad what the sound of it could do to me, how much I wanted to be close to him.

  “This isn’t about Damiel again, is it?” I said. “Because I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

  “Probably not,” he said. “But won’t you hear me out?”

  I sighed. “We’ll just argue again.”

  I’d packed too many books into my school bag that morning. It was heavy, so I took it off my right shoulder and was switching to my left when Michael caught it.

  “I got it,” he said, slinging it over his shoulder as though it were weightless.

  My bag now his hostage, I followed him down the tree-lined street. At least he didn’t take off with it the way my brother used to. Instead he stayed close, so close that when a breeze hit, I could smell the shampoo from his freshly washed hair, combed back to dry in waves. If this had happened a week ago, I would have been thrilled to just hang out with him. But now, knowing he was going to talk about Damiel again made me increasingly nervous. Damiel seemed like my chance to get over him once and for all, but with Michael coming around all the time, that wasn’t working. Not at all.

  We walked almost a block before Michael took a deep breath and said, “I’m not trying to make things difficult.”

  “No?”

  “You think I want to do this?” He shoved his hands into his pockets, but he was close enough that his arm grazed mine, sending tingles all the way up my neck.

  Damn, why do I have to like him so much?

  “Do what exactly?” I bristled, struggling to focus. “Meddle in my life?”

  I hoped what I said would make him angry, because I wanted him to get so angry with me he’d leave me alone. But instead he was calm. “I’m trying to help you.”

  “You’re trying to help me? Maybe you should help yourself. You’re the one who pushed Damiel away because you don’t want to remember that part of your life—”

  “What?” He turned on his heel to face me, and I could have sworn the air snapped. “What are you talking about?”

  “He said you two were in the hospital together, that seeing him brought up bad memories for you.”

  “That’s a load of…” Shaking his head, he stopped himself, took a breath. “You don’t believe that, do you? You’re smarter than that.”

  “Oh, really? I’m supposed to be some kind of mind-reader? Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

  He led us across an empty baseball diamond near our school, walking so quickly I had to hurry to keep up. “Haven’t you noticed it’s hard to say no to him?”

  “I can say no.” I spat the words at him. Was he implying I was some kind of slut or something? Was I, as the girl, supposed to say no because it was what good girls did? “Why the hell should I? What if I don’t want to?”

  He took a step toward me, his eyes blazing and yet not with anger. There was tenderness there, and sadness, and I wasn’t sure what else. I wanted to commit that look to memory. But then some kind of wall came up inside him, cold and solid as iron, blocking his true self in. Or was it blocking me out?

  “That’s your choice to make,” he said.

  I recoiled. “I haven’t chosen anything yet.”

  “Even not choosing is a choice.”

  I swallowed hard, fighting the sting of tears. He couldn’t be giving up on me, could he? “What am I choosing between?”

  He led us around the corner, down the back road leading to the school. “Don’t you find yourself tired around him, drained even?”

  When he mentioned it, I realized it was true. I’d been very tired lately. But how did he know that, anyway? I stopped walking and crossed my arms over my chest.

  Turning, he stopped too, his hand clutching the strap of my bag. A lawnmower engine droned in the distance. “What if that was by design?”

  “I don’t understand. Why are you being so cryptic?”

  “Are you going to see him again?” he asked. “I mean, outside of school?”

  Not wanting to answer that question, I started walking again. “Just dinner tomorrow.”

  He fell in step beside me. “Don’t go out with him.” His voice was soft, almost pleading, with that strange musical quality I’d heard before.

  I didn’t have it in me to be angry with him. “I really don’t get it. You don’t want me, yet you come around like some kind of knight in shining armor and now you’re trying to warn me about some guy. Why do you even care?”

  “Don’t underestimate him. He’s not just ‘some guy,’” he warned. “He’s dangerous.”

  My throat clenched. “Dangerous? What do you mean? What aren’t you telling me?”

  He made an exasperated sound. “Can’t you just take my word for it?”

  I fought back the urge to argue with him, the need to know more. He could be so inf
uriating, but something in me knew he was telling the truth, or part of it. He and Damiel shared a past, but beyond implying that Damiel was lying Michael didn’t say anything. He was hiding something. If he was trying to protect me, what was he trying to protect me from?

  “You know my friend Fiona?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “Yeah?”

  “You were talking to her a few weeks ago but she didn’t see you, and Damiel was talking to her in the hallway yesterday before she—”

  “Look, I’m sorry about your friend,” he interrupted, handing me my bag. We’d arrived at the back doors of the school. “What you do is your choice. I’ll see you in class.”

  I was being dismissed.

  As I headed inside, I wondered if there really was something about Damiel talking to Fiona. Perhaps he was dangerous. But they were just talking, weren’t they? This thing with Fiona, could it be a coincidence? If so, how? And why wouldn’t Michael talk about it?

  I went to my locker before class. When I opened it, a small brown paper bag fell out. My name was written on it in tidy cursive script. Inside was a delicate silver pendant, an ornate upside-down hand with a blue glass eye in the middle. Clear gemstones bordered the outside.

  I was examining the bag for a clue as to whom it might be from when Heather approached. Her eyes were puffy and ringed with gray, this time not from studying.

  “We’re still going to the movie tonight, right?” she said.

  With all that had happened I’d totally forgotten about the movie. I didn’t think anyone would want to go. “Is it still on?”

  “Yeah. We don’t want Dean to be alone tonight. Though he won’t admit it, he’s pretty shaken. He can’t see Fiona yet either.”

  “Have you heard anything?” I asked.

  “Her mom called and told me she’s awake now and going through some tests. She’ll be home tomorrow. I’m gonna go see her then.”

  “Can I come?”