Mayday

by Jonathan Friesen

  He cleared his throat. “Now, boys. Listen as Mr. Shane demonstrates what a little attention can do. Shane, will you repeat their names?”

  “Eddie Jackson, Sean Klaeburne with an e . . .” It wasn’t hard. I had gone to school with these idiots for a year. I finished the list, and Mr. Loumans looked to the sky, a heavenly glow on his face. Yes, my memory cemented the deal. I could see it. I was a certified heavenly being, despite my apparent violent nature when it came to cans of tuna fish.

  I stepped onto the bus and plunked down in the front seat. I needed to think.

  I could keep track of Will at Hope Home, keep him away from Adele, but school was another matter. From a cubicle in the guidance office, how do you keep two students apart?

  Thomas huffed up the bus steps, sporting a good shiner.

  “Hey, Tommy, where’d you get that beauty?” Eddie pointed. “You do that, Will?”

  I whipped around. “I did it.”

  The bus went silent and stayed that way throughout the drive to school. There has to be a way to make Addy see Will for what he is. She won’t believe me, not in this body. Of course, she might believe Crow.

  Brakes hissed, the door opened, and the kids from Hope Home, so hesitant to enter the bus, pounded down the aisle, ready to wreak havoc on this fine educational institution. They quickly disappeared into the crowd filing toward three sets of double doors.

  But not Will. He slithered off the bus, slow and easy, pausing when he reached my seat.

  “You don’t scare me,” Will said.

  “Not yet, huh?”

  “Not at all.” He slapped my shoulder and walked away.

  “I’ll pop in second hour, Will,” I called.

  “Sure thing, Mom.”

  “Speak to Adele before then, and I’ll kill you.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and smirked. I grinned back, though inside I felt he had me beat.

  • • •

  I walked through Central High. It looked the same—no reason it shouldn’t, as I was last there a few weeks ago. But the halls felt tighter, the voices sounded louder.

  Girls’ laughter sure was.

  “Hey, Shane!”

  I spun and watched Thomas weave awkwardly between the masses.

  Yeah, I remembered him pretty well.

  I waited, and he huffed up with his plus-size backpack. “We walk through the same halls, but it’s like we’re pushing through different schools.”

  I readjusted his sagging pack across his back. “What d’ya mean?”

  “Everyone stares at you. Guys mutter. Girls group together and look. I walk, and nothing.” He quickly spun, that backpack slugging me in the shoulder. “Straight in front of you. Do you see her? It’s Crow.”

  Crow stood surrounded by five or six disciples. Gigi, Heidi, Kell, all suck-ups, wanting a piece of Crow’s throne. At year’s end, she had planned to bestow the mantle of bad girl upon one of the deserving juniors, and there were plenty who wanted a crack at the title.

  Though I never did pass the baton, Kell was my final choice.

  “What do I do?” Both Thomas and I asked in unison.

  “You go talk to her.” We said that together, too.

  “Listen, Thomas.” I grabbed him by the backpack strap and spun him around. “There are things I can tell you about Crow, things I want to tell you. It will help your cause with her. But believe me, it wouldn’t be good for Crow to see me right now, so let’s walk the other way.”

  I risked another glance toward the lockers. Crow stared back. Not looked, stared, with tired eyes but a face wild and beautiful. Those around Crow laughed, but her face didn’t crack. She was beyond that: she’d seen too much.

  Crow appeared amused, as if the bizarre had marched into her domain.

  She broke out of her circle, the kids parting, and walked straight at me, stopping square in front, a hair too close for my comfort.

  I searched for any evidence that Sadie was right. That my first time back changed me for the better. Crow’s clothes were the same: black top and black jeans. Crow’s cold sensuality, still my desired vibe.

  But it clicked. She came toward me. I had never lowered myself to that. Was she hard? Yeah, the years had taken their toll. But my arrogant pride had taken a hit.

  A very good development.

  “I’ve not seen you here before,” Crow said.

  “I’ve not been here before.”

  She squinted and let her unblinking eyes search mine, and when she spoke, her words were soft, reaching, “But I know you. Or you know me. Or something. Is that right?”

  I raised my eyebrows and exhaled slowly, drawn to the gentleness in me. “If so, let’s make a new start. I’ll go first. My name’s Shane.” My hand extended, and she peeked at it, made no move to grasp it.

  Her face twitched. “Your last name?”

  “My last name is Owen. And you are?”

  Crow’s legs buckled and she stumbled backward, her fair skin blanching still further. Her head shook in little spasms, and for a second I thought she was having a seizure. She steadied herself, grinned, lifted a finger and waggled it in my face. “Very good. Who have you been speaking to? Basil? No, Mel. Not Addy. She wouldn’t mess with that.”

  “I just told you my name, Crow. That’s all.”

  “You know my name. You know just what to say,” she whispered.

  Dong. The obnoxious first bell rang. She buried her finger in my chest, twisted it, and flicked up, nicking my chin. “I’ll see you around, Shane Owen.”

  “I hope so.”

  Kids scurried after her. Except for Thomas.

  “Okay, that was weird. That looked like a relationship that, number one, is not over, and number two, never started.”

  “You, uh . . .” I winced. “You may have nailed it there, friend. I’ll explain more later.” I slapped his shoulder and headed for the guidance office, my body shaking.

  Who knew that coming face-to-face with yourself could be so terrifying?

  • • •

  “Shane Owen? Oh, welcome to Central!” Ms. Crebat, our overly jubilant guidance counselor, led me past the inspirational posters to a small cubicle in the back of the room. “I know it’s small, but you’re working with only eight kids.” She clapped her hands together. “You know, maybe you could be convinced to help with some of our other needy students as well. When you have time, of course.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, no problem.”

  “Oh, how wonderful!” She grabbed both my hands and squeezed. “If there’s anything you need.”

  “Just these schedules.” I handed her the list. Her eyes glossed over.

  “Will Kroft is easy. ISS. In-school suspension.” Ms. Crebat glanced to her left and her right, and then lowered her voice. “It’s not right, you know.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  She took another look around the office. “What they do to that young man. That boy of yours was a marked kid when he arrived. Would you believe an officer called the entire staff together on Will’s first day? He told us there was no cause for concern, but that violence seemed to accompany our new student. I asked him if he had seen Will being violent. He said no, but the seed was sown.” Ms. Crebat exhaled. “That first morning I sat down and talked with Will for nearly an hour. Charming kid. Likable kid. If it wasn’t for that officer, he would have had a chance here. But by afternoon he was ISS. I think some believe he single-handedly accounts for every problem in this school.

  “I’ll get you the other schedules right away.” She scuttled out of the room, and I eased down into my roller chair.

  “Two,” I whispered. “That makes two.” Yesterday, Thomas, and now Ms. Crebat, both of them defending the undefendable. But I’d heard it myself: “Down by the river . . . a girl about my age, and I don’t think she’s going to
make it.” It’s hard to believe he was an innocent bystander.

  Of course, I also saw Will turn down a warm bed and help an old man into a police truck.

  My old life was getting murkier.

  I pushed back and rolled toward the wall.

  There. I stared into the empty cubicle near the door and remembered Crow’s one guidance office visit. The scene of her, of my, greatest embarrassment.

  That morning with Basil. Let’s stop that while I’m here.

  CHAPTER 15

  THE THOUGHTS OF C. RAINE

  An alliance with a powerful person is never safe.

  Phaedrus

  I QUIETLY OPENED THE DOOR INTO ROOM 56. ISS. Every attempt had been made to turn this place into a maximum-security prison. Windows? Cinder block sealed and, like the office, painted powder blue, the color designed to perpetuate mental instability.

  Flies buzzed the fluorescent lights, and the stale smell of vomit permeated the place.

  Seven carrels graced the perimeter of the room, all facing out, positioned to prevent any view of humanity. In the center of the room, two desks fronted two paras who stared blankly into the abyss. They were victims of the room as well. The carpet was brown, stained with large spots of unknown fluid.

  My former-life stays in ISS depressed me enough that even I retreated when a threat was given. Today, only Will was in prison, and when I opened the door, he was whistling.

  Happy sounds were not allowed in ISS.

  A para pounded her desk. “Will, shut the mouth now, or we can help with the process.”

  Was that a threat? Sure. But within the walls of Room 56, different laws applied. It was similar to speeding on the Indian reservation. Get pulled over and you never knew what to expect.

  Large Marge, as we called her, rose to her feet. She was nearly as wide as she was tall, and when she stood, her considerable girth knocked books and papers clean off her desk. This time the entire desk lifted and fell with a thump. “I said, ‘Stop whistling’!”

  “I can’t, Large Marge. I’m in a good mood.” Will did not turn. “I’ve got me a date. Ever had one of those? I can explain how they work, if you like.” He cranked his head around and saw me in the doorway. “The Prophet. Come on in. I think we have some empty chairs.”

  “How’s the prisoner?” I winked at Marge, and she blushed and flattened her hair.

  “He’s unusually happy today. You must be Shane.”

  “Mr. Shane, the Prophet.” Will started whistling again. I walked over to the carrel on his left and pulled its chair next to his.

  He rocked back and forth. “Mm-mm. Smell that stagnant air? This is what I get to experience. Probably much different than your education.”

  “You’d be surprised.” I grabbed the front leg of his chair and shoved it back down to earth. Behind me, women sighed with delight at the show of strength. “Sounds like you got a date.”

  He nodded big, and a crease of pleasure worked across his face. Yeah, there was something magnetic about him. Will and Basil, they both had it. Poor Thomas.

  “Now,” I continued, “you can’t leave the grounds for dates. Mr. L was pretty clear on this point.”

  “You’re right, Wise One.” He pointed to his temple, created two upturned okay signs with his hands, and hummed. “So I will go on a date in my mind.”

  “A mental date.”

  “A mental date,” he repeated. “Yeah, that’s all I’m allowed, but as you see, I’ve learned to be satisfied with little things.”

  “And following your mental date,” I bent over and whispered, “might you just call 555-0177?”

  His hands opened. He peeked at me and licked his lips.

  “And after you ‘borrow’ a car, you might drive, lights off, to 7934 Sycamore Circle, yes? Four raps on the back window. And then it’s a crapshoot. Who is going to open the shade? It could be Adele. Ah, the joy if that happens, because your mental date turns into reality.” I leaned in even closer. “Or it might be Crow, in which case your date will take a painful turn.”

  Will jumped to his feet, tripped on his chair, and staggered back against a wall. “I don’t know who you are, but—”

  “No, you don’t. But you’ll be canceling that date, or when you open the shade, it’ll be me you’ll see.” I approached him and lowered my voice. “And I know where Jude keeps the gun. Are we clear?” I gestured toward his fallen chair. He eased over, picked it up, and plunked down in it.

  “We’re clear,” he whispered.

  I turned to Large Marge. “I don’t think you’ll have any more whistling issues.” I closed the door on Will’s curse, and exhaled hard.

  My threats held no bite, all my words just so much hot air. The truth was that pacifist Jude owned no gun, and I surely wouldn’t be able to intercept every date. I needed a more permanent solution. Basil wasn’t the answer, but I sure needed help.

  I needed Crow.

  • • •

  I spent the rest of the day in the photographic darkroom, my favorite room in which to cut class. The digital revolution pushed the room into disuse. It sat—small, abandoned, forgotten—near the art room, deep in the bowels of the school.

  Pitch-black. Unused. A perfect place to steal a nap.

  I never told my disciples about the hiding place. I never told Mel. Only Basil was privy to my hideaways, and he’d peek into the darkroom from time to time.

  It was there I first felt it strong. Sitting by Basil in the dark, my head on his shoulder. The switch happened. He must have felt it, too, though now I see how much earlier his mind had navigated the forbidden. We kissed. And I pulled away and elbowed him in the gut. Yes, to hurt him, but more to remind myself of the danger.

  But the worst part of the deal was that throughout and beyond the kiss, I never gave his girlfriend Mel a thought. Of course, if the roles had been reversed, Mel would have rejoiced in victory.

  Sitting in the darkroom as Shane, unaware of Crow’s thoughts and plans, frustrated me to no end. What were the odds that she’d show up on this day? By the end of seventh hour, I’d given up. I stood and stretched and exited the room. I let my eyes adjust and marched slowly back toward the guidance office. The last bell rang. Halls filled and then emptied, but I made no move for the buses. My first day at work reminded me of Will’s strength, and threatening him into submission would work for only so long.

  Inside my cubicle, I shuffled some schedules, stared around the empty room, and wandered to the door. I flicked off the light and stepped into the hall.

  “You’re not the first Shane Owen I’ve known.”

  The guidance door latched behind me with a loud click. Across the hall, Crow leaned back, fingers wriggling into her pockets. Her eyes rested heavily on me, and my palms sweated.

  “It’s a common name around here?” I asked.

  “No.”

  The school had cleared out, except for a few straggling teachers. The roar of a distant bus fell silent, and Central felt empty, as did I.

  “Shane Owen showed up during middle school, popped into my old tree house. In a few weeks she became my best friend, my soul mate. She stayed right up until my worst day, and then she vanished, as though she’d never been here at all. A storm took her.” Crow paused. “She knew stuff; she just knew stuff.”

  This wasn’t typical Crow. Not at all. I never offered my past to a stranger. But that was the difference—I was no stranger. She was speaking to her own soul, and her defenses dropped.

  So did mine.

  “A storm took her.” I shifted my weight on weakening legs and forced a grin. “It just blew her out to sea, I’ll bet.”

  “Yeah,” Crow squinted. “On a raft.”

  “A bouncy raft,” I said, and gave my head a shake. “That’s quite a story. Anyone ever find her?” I backed against the opposite wall, buried my hands in my pocke
ts, and fingered the locket. She would freak.

  “I don’t know. Do you?”

  “How would I know about a girl you met years ago?”

  She shrugged and swept back her hair.

  Wow, was I gorgeous.

  Crow rubbed the scar on her forearm. “How does anybody know anything?”

  We gazed at each other for a minute or more. A thinking gaze. A figuring gaze. “I need to get back.” I cleared my throat. “Missed the bus, and it’ll be a long walk.”

  “Where do you live, Shane?”

  “Hope Home. I took a job there.”

  Her lips curled, and she spoke so quietly I barely heard. “Will lives with you.”

  “Adele lives with you.”

  Crow stiffened. “What do you care about Addy?”

  There probably was a better way to do this, but I couldn’t think of it. “Listen, I’m in the middle of a predicament, and I need to know about Will and Adele. It’s part of my job. How close are they? I mean, how far gone is she?”

  Crow rocked, looked off into the distance, and her face hardened. “She says she loves him.”

  I breathed heavily. “Crow, due to my peculiar position, one that I am not at liberty to discuss right now, I have a vested interest in seeing that they not end up as a couple. How do you feel about that?”

  “Keep talking.”

  “As I recall, you also share that sentiment.”

  “As you recall? Who have you been talking to—”

  I waved her off. “I’ll have better luck destroying this relationship if I can get your assistance. Any interest?”

  Crow thought for a while. “You won’t touch her. You never will. So if this is an attempt to open the door for yourself, I have nothing to say to you except, Watch your back.”

  “No!” I exhaled. “No, I don’t want anything from her.”

  Crow was silent, trying, it seemed, to figure out why she felt so comfortable with me. She peeked up. “He’s all wrong for her.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, he is.”

  “But I told her I wouldn’t interfere. I’ve done that too many times already.”

  The list of guys I deemed not good enough had been extensive, and my protective streak ran deep and fierce. Addy had sucked from me a promise to stay out of her love life. I reluctantly agreed.