First Impression (A Shadow Maven Paranormal)

by Pauline Creeden

  The class mumbles a collective affirmative. The mood of Jackson Hall is sober. Once Mr. Scott starts in on our geography lesson, we all settle into the forced rhythm of daily school life. Before we head out into the hall for our second period, Ben fumbles with the paper he was holding and drops it unintentionally into the trashcan. He reaches in and pulls it out, wraps a second item in it, and stuffs it into his jacket pocket, and calls to me, “Wait up.”

  I frown. “Do I really need an escort between classes?”

  He shakes his head, and one side of his mouth pulls down. “No. You know, all this isn’t really working out the way I’d planned. I’m sorry that you are feeling crowded. I don’t really think you need a babysitter, you know. I’m just worried.”

  I frown. “Why would you be? We barely know each other.”

  He shrugs. “I guess I’ve just never met anyone like you, and I don’t want you to disappear from my life too soon.”

  I swallow back a lump in my throat. He’s nothing if not sincere. I sigh.

  A blush barely shows under his olive skin. We stop at the door of my French class, and he rubs the back of his neck.

  I shrug. “I appreciate what you—and Matt—are doing. But at least while we’re in the school building, we’re probably pretty safe, right?”

  He looks up, like he’s thinking it over. After a moment, he finally says, “Right.”

  “So no escort required.” I pat him on the shoulder and open the classroom door. “Have fun in gym.”

  AT LUNCH TIME, MATT MEETS us up on the roof, and even has a third sack lunch which he hands me. When he smiles, I notice a dimple on his cheek barely peek out. “The lunch of detectives, as my dad always says.”

  I force a smile, hoping that the boys won’t notice if I don’t eat much of it. I pull out two packs of toaster pastries and pass one to each boy. “I brought extras, too.”

  The three of us sit on the roof, Matt against the wall with me this time, Ben across from me and leaning on the chain link fence. His gaze remains on the owl hovering in the sky.

  I’m assaulted by the smell of mustard when I bring the sandwich to my lips. I nibble at the crust and try to avoid the strong yellow stuff. Matt watches me intently, so I smile and nod. “Pretty good.”

  His shoulders relax and he unwraps his own sandwich. “Glad to hear it. My dad was busy this morning, so I made the sandwiches.”

  Ben spits out the bite he’d just taken and stares at the sandwich in his hand.

  Matt frowns. “Come on, man. That’s just rude.”

  After wrapping the sandwich back up, Ben stuffs it in his bag and rinses his mouth with a sip of coffee. “How much mustard did you put on the thing?”

  “I covered the bread like I’d do with mayo, I guess.” Matt shrugs and takes a huge bite of his sandwich. He winces but chews and chokes the thing down. He looks over at me with his brow wrinkled in worry. “A bit too much mustard, I guess.”

  I laugh and wrap my sandwich back up. “It was sweet of you to try.”

  He blushes and wraps his sandwich up, too. He snags a bite of chocolate toaster pastry. “Good thing you brought these so we don’t starve.”

  I laugh and bite my own pastry. “I saw your dad earlier, talking to the guidance counselor. What was that about?”

  Matt nods and shoves half a pastry in his mouth. “He was here interviewing a few of Stacy’s closest friends to find out if they’d heard from her or might know where she’d be. The sheriff wanted the guidance counselor to be present during the sessions.”

  “That makes sense.”

  Ben stands, having finished his pastries, and stuffs the wad of silver wrapper into his pocket. He whistles, and Steven descends on cue, landing just in front of his owner. Ben wipes the bologna from his sandwich with a napkin and feeds the bit of meat to the bird.

  Matt laughs and stands. “At least someone is enjoying the lunch I packed.”

  I stand and dust myself off, too. A green Buick pulls out of the teacher’s lot and heads for Washington Street. It’s a strange sight to see any vehicles leaving that lot at this time of day. I lean toward the fence.

  Matt steps up next to me and peers over my shoulder. “I think that’s Mr. Scott’s car. He said he wasn’t feeling well last period.”

  I look up at Matt and take a half step sideways. Our faces were too close. I clear my throat. “You had him last period?”

  Matt nods, seeming not to notice my slide to the right. “Yeah, for Political Science. He was all sweaty and looked like he was getting a fever. I bet they called in a sub for him the rest of the day.”

  The car disappears behind the copse of trees. Ben stands to my right now, watching the road. His face softens, and he looks more relaxed than he’s been this entire lunch break. I study his dark features, and wonder if he might be part gypsy. Since his mother roved with a band of them, could one of them have been his father? Gypsies and monks? What a strange childhood he must have had.

  He turns toward me, and his eyes study mine. My mouth suddenly feels dry, and I run my tongue across my lips. His eyes drop down to my mouth. My heart leaps to my throat, and I swallow it back down.

  Matt pushes off the fence, causing the chain link to rattle. “So, I’m still hungry. How about you two?”

  I shake myself from the spell I was under a moment before and step back. “Uh, yeah. Actually I am still hungry.”

  “Tell you what–since I ruined the sandwiches, we can get whatever you want downstairs in the cafeteria. My treat.” Matt smiles and throws an arm around my shoulder. He shoots a satisfied gaze at Ben and says, “You, too, Cousin.”

  I laugh and shrug off his arm. With an eye roll, I ask, “And what if I could eat a whole pizza? You still going to pay?”

  He nods, but his eyes take on a worried expression while he studies me. “Could you?”

  Ben steps forward, opens the stairwell door for us, and puts on a sly grin. “I don’t know about her, but I could.”

  My laughter echoes down the stairwell.

  AFTER GYM CLASS, I SHOULDER my messenger bag and wipe the sweat from my brow. It was a good, hard work out today. Just what I needed to get my mind focused enough to study for my biology test tomorrow. When I step into the hall and find Ben leaning straight across from the doorway, my heart flutters. Where did that come from? I shake it off.

  Matt sidles toward me from the side of the door and puts an arm around my shoulder again. “So, where to today, Chica?

  I glare at him and shrug off his arm. “Actually, I’ve fallen behind in my school work this week and really need to catch up on my reading. It’s off to the library for me. You boys staying?”

  Matt groans, and his shoulders slump. “The library? For real? Can’t you come over to my house and study, so I can at least play some games while you bore me to death?”

  Ben steps forward. “I’ve got to study, too. So I don’t mind the library. Why don’t you go home, Cousin. I think I can handle this.”

  Matt glares at Ben for a moment, and they stand in each other’s faces. Ben straightens to his full height, about five inches over his cousin’s head. Matt pushes his cousin back with a smirk. Ben falters a step from the surprise attack, and then he drops his back pack to the floor, his hands fisted.

  “Stop,” I yell, and jump between them. My back is to Matt, and both my hands are on Ben’s chest

  Ben is taller, but he’s also slim where Matt is dense muscle. I wonder how often the rivalry between them crosses into physical territory.

  Matt huffs over my shoulder. “I’m coming. I’ve got my phone. I’ll find a game to play or something.”

  I roll my eyes, but my breath is caught in my throat. I can feel the thunderous pounding of Ben’s heart beneath my palms. My hands slide down Ben’s chest before my fingertips leave his pressed cotton shirt. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. I lift my gaze to his and am startled by the desire I find there. I snatch my hands back and spin around. I can’t catch my breath again until I’m
a few steps away.

  What’s going on here? Yes, Ben is hot, and he seems to want a relationship with me. But do I want one with him? I’d already resigned myself to making it through high school alone. Ben is complicating things in a way I’m not sure I’m ready for or even want. I trudge down the hallway ahead of them. Besides, this is all going too fast, and I don’t believe in love at first sight.

  The school library always has a few stragglers like me in it, studying or getting info. We’ve got nearly three hours before they close at five. Plenty of time to catch up on the three chapters I need to review. We choose a large table near the middle of the room. I settle my books on one corner, Ben sits across from me, and Matt sits on my left side. But I’ve set my messenger bag on the empty chair between us, so I’ve got lots of elbow room.

  At first, I’m nervous, because I’m wondering if Ben’s going to want to study with me. But as he settles into his chair and breaks out a pen and notebook, I realize that my fears were unfounded. He’s a loner, like me. He’s used to studying alone and doing things by himself.

  We settle into the kind of comfortable silence that I’ve only ever found with a few people. He was right when he’d said he’d found his way into my inner circle. If I’d been alone since Tasha had her accident, honestly, I don’t know what I would have done without him.

  Because I find it easier to concentrate while music plays, I snap my ear buds into my phone and start my study playlist. After about an hour of studying in relative silence, I notice that Ben and I are on about the same page of work. We study at similar speed. He’s writing furiously in his notebook. I’ve been in my own little world. Matt has his head on his arms, looking like he might be asleep.

  A half an hour later, I stand and stretch, putting my ear buds aside. Ben stops writing midsentence and looks up at me thoughtfully. I shrug and grab my bag. “I need to go to the ladies' room.”

  He pushes his chair back and begins to stand.

  I put my hand out to him in a stop gesture. “I think I can handle this myself.”

  Ben looks around the room and says, “But the building’s nearly empty. I’m not so sure it’s safe.”

  My hands slap my hips. “Seriously? It’s just down the hall. I’ll be fine.”

  Matt sits up and yawns. “Actually, I need to go to the little boy’s room myself. I’ll go with you.”

  I throw my hands up in exasperation. “Fine.”

  Ben sits back down slowly, his eyes darting between us both. He nods and settles back into writing his outline.

  Matt walks me down the hallway. “So how much more studying do you think you’ll need to do?”

  I shrug. “I usually stay until the library closes.”

  “Wonderful.” His shoulders droop as he pushes the door to the Men’s room.

  I laugh and push the door of the next room over and head into the white-tiled bathroom. I pull my pony tail out because the tension is giving me a headache and run a quick brush through my hair. My phone beeps, and I swap it for my hairbrush. I read the screen. Mrs. Brown.

  Tasha is awake, thank God! Call her tomorrow when you get a chance.

  You got it! Thank God! I text back, a smile spreading across my face.

  I push out into the hallway backwards, replacing my phone into my bag. I run into something solid. “Sorry Matt, I—”

  Before I can turn around or even finish what I am saying, a handkerchief with a sickly-sweet smelling chemical is placed over my face. I kick and struggle, trying to hold my breath, dropping my messenger bag and all its contents on the floor. My muffled screams are barely registering. I’m lifted off my feet and dragged around the corner before my lungs are emptied, and I’m forced to take a breath. A curtain of night falls heavily over my eyes, and no amount of struggling will keep my unconsciousness at bay.

  I GROAN, AND MY SHOULDER drops. One wrist pulls on the other, and my skin sears. My eyes snap open. My wrists are bound together behind my back. Only a trickle of light passes through the curtain of my hair. Before I can stop myself, I panic. I pull my legs, but they are bound to the upright wooden chair I sit on.

  Mold, rot, and a musty, earthy odor assaults my nose, but there’s something else underneath it—the copper scent of blood? Am I in a cave? Underground? I whip my head up and look around. A single, naked light bulb in the low ceiling casts the room in pale light and long shadows. The walls are compacted earth. Shelves line the sides and are full of rusty old industrial-sized can goods, but there are no windows. A root cellar? Where on earth am I? The packed dirt of the floor under me is a shade darker than the surrounding clay.

  Sobbing comes from behind me and to the right but the area of the sound is cast in shadow. I struggle to turn. A deep, male laugh sounds behind me and to the left, making me jerk my head in that direction, but I barely see a figure before he moves out of my sight again. He smacks the naked light bulb above my head causing the light around the room to dance with the shadows. Straight ahead I find what looks like a dark doorway and stairs leading upward.

  The sobbing continues, and I jerk my head toward the sound. The light washes the area in and out, light then shadow. And on the floor is a bare, stained, twin-sized mattress. With a girl lying on it, her back to me.

  Laughter and movement comes from my left again, but when I spin, my chair tips. I crash to my shoulder and smack my head on the floor.

  “Tsk Tsk…that wasn’t very smart, was it?” Deep throaty laughter follows. The voice is familiar, but my fogged brain can’t place it.

  I clamp my jaw and try to gain composure. Panicking will not get me out of this situation. What can I do? What are my options? I will myself to breathe slowly and for my heart to reduce speed. But it refuses to listen and thumps wildly in my chest, in my ears, in my throat.

  Rough hands snatch the side of my chair and yank me upright. I whip my head, searching, but he stays just out of sight. His laughter becomes hysterical as though this is some kind of game.

  Finally, he places his hands over my eyes. The rough texture of his palms and the smell underneath the earth and mold becomes stronger. Is it blood? My breath hitches.

  His hot breath tickles my ear, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “Guess who?”

  I struggle harder against my bonds, to release myself from his hands, but refuse to play his game by staying silent. He grabs both sides of my head and squeezes until I still.

  He pats my hair gently and pulls it up. I try to turn my head, but he yanks it viciously in the opposite direction when I do. I bite my lip to keep from screaming. When he’s done pulling it through a rubber band, into my usual ponytail, his hands rest on my shoulders, and he puts his disgusting lips against my neck. I struggle so hard that the chair falls again. Same shoulder. Same head injury. Stars dance before my eyes.

  Maniacal laughter rings in my ears. The husky voice he’s using seems like a disguise, but there’s still a familiar ring to it. “To think you’re a straight A student. Must not be very street smart, eh?”

  When he reaches down again to pull my chair upright, I whip my head toward him and look him full in the face. The light of the single bulb shines on Mr. Scott’s bald head. I choke on a sob.

  His eyes meet mine and he throws me back to the ground in anger. “You cheater!”

  Black spots dance in my vision and my ears ring from the blow to my head this time. Tears spring to my eyes. Sobs are coming uncontrollably now. Sweet Mr. Scott? He’s been kidnapping girls from Fairfax? Who’s on the mattress? Oh, Lord, please let that be Stacy.

  “No matter,” Mr. Scott says, and his voice has lost its false deep tone. “I was getting bored with that game, anyway.”

  He yanks up my chair again so quickly that my neck whips to the side with a crack. Pain shoots from my neck through my shoulder, until my fingers tingle from it.

  “Let’s play a new game!” Mr. Scott strides over to the girl on the mattress and grips her by the hair. He yanks hard, and she begins kicking and screaming.
He drags her in front of me.

  It is Stacey. Her hair is as matted as a rat’s nest, and her mascara runs down her cheeks like the makeup of a grotesque mime. She has no shirt on and sits on the floor in jeans and her beige-pink, dirt covered bra. Innumerable red slits cover her arms and torso, most of them bleeding.

  My eyes grow wide. She looks like she’d run through a thorn bush. Her hands and feet are bound in silver duct tape. Her bloodshot eyes plead with me. Her lips are cracked and bleeding. Has it really only been a day since she went missing?

  Mr. Scott pulls a long knife from behind his back, and at the sight of it, Stacey begins whimpering. “No, please. Please don’t.”

  He looks down at her with sad eyes. “Tsk, Tsk. The pants are going to have to go today. I need more places for Knife to taste your skin.”

  Stacy’s sobbing becomes more frenzied as she struggles to breathe.

  Mr. Scott licks his lips and turns his gaze on me. “Or if you’re a good girl, maybe Knife will sample the new skin first.”

  He releases her, and she struggles away, doing her best to return to the mattress as though it’s the only safe place in the cave. And for a crazy moment, I wonder if it is. With a wild smile on his face, and the light glinting on his blade, Mr. Scott walks slowly back toward me.

  I want to scream, but somehow all sound escapes me. My mouth is wide open, but my throat is closed so tight that it takes all of my concentration just to breathe.

  “I didn’t want to do this to you, Chira. You’re one of my favorite students. It’s the bad girls Knife likes to taste. You’ll be the first good girl. But Knife has wanted a new flavor.” He kneels down and presses the knife against my green sweater, and suddenly I can breathe again. I scream.