Sojourner

by Maria Rachel Hooley

  “Then I guess I’ll just have to hope a simple thank you will do.” Closing the locker, I lean against Lev and offer a sweet smile.

  “Then I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it because I don’t think Walker and I have anything to talk about.” Griffin just shakes his head and walks away. Gail looks at me and catches up to Griffin, joining his march to his own locker.

  “Satisfied?” I lean against Lev’s chest, savoring the way my head tucks under his chin.

  “Thank you.” His grin seems lighter somehow, as though all the cares of the world have suddenly left him and he is now weightless, which makes me wonder what is really going on between Griffin and Lev.

  “I thought you said you weren’t jealous.” We walk to his locker and he drops his arm from my back and grabs my hand.

  “No, I just said that wasn’t what was bothering me.” He is in the middle of fishing out his books when Celia pops over, a broomstick skirt falling almost to her calves billowing with her stride. A pink sweater completes the ensemble, warming her skin tone.

  “Look who’s back!” she cheers, smiling. “It’s really good to see you, Lizzie.” Her gaze wanders from my face to Lev’s and back again.

  “Well, I’d say I’ve missed it, but I wouldn’t want to lie.”

  “Course not.” She winks. “Do you have lunch plans?”

  “I dunno.” I bat my eyelashes at Lev in a mock flirtation. “Do I?”

  “What do you think?” He grabs a book and notebook before slamming the locker door. “Unless you really want to eat with Hauser….”

  “Not funny.” I smack my spiral against his chest. “So I guess you’re definitely stuck with me.”

  “Poor Lev.” Celia shakes her head. “You won’t be able to handle this one.”

  “If that’s a bet, you’ll lose,” he murmurs, toying with a strand of my hair. Feeling his light touch, I turn toward him, our eyes locking. My breath turns shallow while staring at his beautiful face.

  “Elizabeth?” Lev says. “We’d better get to class before the bell rings.”

  I blink slowly, my thoughts fogged. It’s a few seconds before I realize Celia has already gone and most of the hall is deserted.

  “I’m surprised the bell hasn’t already rung. Did you set the clock to Indian time or something?” I ask innocently.

  “Ha ha.” Grabbing my hand, Lev leads me down into the classroom just as the tardy bell rings. We find our seats before Mr. Maguire enters the room. As I sit next to Griffin, I can feel undisguised animosity. Ignoring him, I open my book to chapter twelve as noted on the board. Then I realize how distracting Lev’s blond hair is.

  But there is also something else. It’s the same shimmering at his shoulders that appears like liquid light filtered through a prism in the same way the late afternoon sun would look filtered through a sprinkler. But this time, in addition to the way the air seems to shimmer, it also seems to reflect more than usual. So bright.

  Then again, he is sitting by the window, and the sun is making an appearance today, glittering off the snow. It’s possible I’m seeing things, I guess. Frowning, I peer around the room, trying to gauge if anyone else is distracted.

  No one sees it. Even Griffin has stopped paying any mind to me and jots notes from the board, something I don’t think he’s resorted to in years. Gail would probably take his notes and write his assignments. There’s got to be a reason he keeps her around, after all.

  The more I think about it, the more I realize I’m the only one who sees it, because let’s face it, the weird glow would top world history any day. Even Mr. Maguire hasn’t realized there is a white light in the center of the room, and he sees Lev as well as I do.

  Without realizing it, I’m trembling. Just another way my life and this nightmare are alike. There are so many things that don’t make sense, and if my eyes hurt from this bright light surrounding Lev, why is everyone else so obtuse? I want to raise my hand, but I know better. If they did see it, they would be reacting. So am I hallucinating? Am I having a different kind of nightmare? None of it makes any sense.

  So instead of dwelling on it, I force myself to listen to Mr. Maguire’s voice and jot my own notes, planning on talking to Lev later, even though I have a feeling that will get me nowhere.

  Just before lunch, Lev finds me shoving my books in my locker. He grins at my method, and once the locker door slams shut, we both hear a few books tumble against it.

  “That could be interesting,” he says, eyeing the door, “Especially when you open it again.”

  “That’s after lunch,” I say, grabbing his hand. “Right now we’re at lunch. Though I do think someone else has lost his appetite.” I nod toward where Griffin stands at the cafeteria entry, glaring. “You ready to eat?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So why did you want me to stay away from him?” I smile, hoping this time I’ll get answers.

  Griffin scowls and storms off, Gail trailing behind, trying to assuage his ego. Matt just grins and shakes his head, which neither of us quite understands, but then that’s Matt. Nobody understands Matt really. Not even Matt.

  “Because he has a bad temper and thinks he owns whatever he wants. It’s a nasty combination.” His grip tightens, and he pulls me closer. “And he doesn’t own you.”

  “You got that right,” I mutter, shaking my head as we walk into the cafeteria. I watch what is coming out of the lunch line. Pizza. No thanks, the spaghetti was bad enough.

  “What do you want?” he asks, looking from the hot food line to the salad bar.

  “The salad. It’s…safer.”

  “Good point.” We both walk to the salad bar and pile a plate of veggies before picking one of the few uninhabited tables around the room. In the distance, I see Shelly and Bree already at their table. Shelly waves to me, inviting us over, but I point to the one we’ve chosen and mouth the words, “We’ll talk later.” She smiles and nods.

  Lev immediately begins eating and I stare at him, the flawless profile and blunt line of his jaw. And then he looks up, his expression unsure.

  “Okay, what’s up with the staring?”

  I shrug. “What do you mean? I’m not staring.”

  “Yeah, well, what’s going on in your devious mind?” He sets his fork down, obviously waiting for my response.

  “Devious?”

  “Yeah, now share.”

  “You’re going to think I’m nuts.” I toy with my napkin. “Really, really nuts.”

  “You’re assuming I don’t already think you’re crazy.” he chuckles. “That’s what I call blind optimism.” He waits for me to go on and looks up when I don’t. “And?”

  “Have you ever met someone who’s really different?” I spear a bite of salad.

  “Yeah, you.”

  I laugh, realizing he has no clue what I’m getting at. “No, Lev, I mean really different. You see things about them you can’t explain.”

  “Can’t say I have.” His smile dwindles to the guarded expression I’ve often seen, and he seems to focus on eating. I wait to see if he’ll ask for more, but he doesn’t.

  “Lev, no matter how I try to ask any of this, it’s going to sound weird, so I might as well just throw it out there.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to play catch.” His jaw tightens slightly and he picks up his milk to take a drink.

  “Too bad. I’m tired of trying to pretend I’m not seeing what I’m seeing. Do you realize I’ve had dreams about you ever since I can remember?”

  “Mmmm.” He frowns. “So maybe I really don’t exist. Maybe I’m a figment of your imagination.” He wipes his mouth. “Now that’s a thought.”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. Lev, when I look at you, I see things, weird things. You…shimmer…like there’s more to you than what everyone sees.”

  “All right, then.” He reaches over and touches my forehead. “Your fever hasn’t come back, has it?”

  I bat his hand away. “Be serious!”

  �
��I’m trying, Elizabeth, but the things you say.” He nonchalantly leans back in his chair.

  “Answer my questions. Tell me why I dream about you.” I take a bite and stare at him.

  “How would I know? It’s not like I have control over your unconscious mind.” He folds his arms across his chest and shakes his head.

  “I just want answers. This is driving me insane.”

  “Lunch time is almost over.” He nods to the clock above where we dump trays. “So you might want to eat.”

  Disgusted, I drop my fork into the salad and try to reign in my temper. It doesn’t help when I feel his hand slip atop mine, his fingers gently caressing my skin. When I look up, I find myself swimming in those blue eyes.

  “Why won’t you tell me?”

  “There’s nothing to tell.” His rough voice sounds like he’s hiding something, but I have no way of getting past the walls he’s set up, and Celia has made it clear she won’t talk about her brother. So I’m pretty much at a standstill. Shaking my head, I get up.

  “I think I’ve had enough.” I feel the pent up frustration that’s been building since we moved to this hole-in-the-wall town nearing an explosive level. Jimmie wants to protect me. Lev wants to protect me. Gail wants to shoot me. Griffin wants…something unmentionable. And I still don’t have any answers.

  “But you’ve barely eaten.” He also rises.

  “I wasn’t talking about lunch, Lev.” As I start to walk away, he grabs my hand.

  “What kind of dreams do you have? Are they good or bad?” he asked, his words stumbling over one another.

  “Both, not that it really matters.” Without waiting for him, I dump my tray and head to my locker. Part of me expects Lev will follow, but he doesn’t. Instead the hall fills with other students. He lingers in the cafeteria.

  “Did you have a good lunch?”

  I whirl to find Griffin there, leaning against the door.

  “Yeah, it was all right,” I mutter. I open my locker, and my English book tumbles out. Just the one I needed for the next class.

  “If you’d been with me, it would have been amazing.”

  “It’s cafeteria food, Griffin. How amazing could it be?”

  “So go to dinner with me.” His smile is soft. “All I’m asking for is a chance, Lizzie. Please?”

  “I dunno. And right now I have to get to class.” I close my locker and lock it before starting down the hall.

  “Just think about it.” He starts to walk away then pauses as though he’s mulling something over. Then he looks back at me. “Not everybody is what they seem.”

  Unsure what to make of that last comment, I watch him walk down the hall. Then I start toward class, not expecting Lev to suddenly appear in my path, and judging from the dark expression on his face, I can tell he’s heard at least part of my exchange with Griffin.

  “I thought you were going to stay away from him.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

  “We attend the same school, Lev. How far away do you think I can get?” I try to walk past him to no avail. My fingers clench my books and I wish I were taller so I didn’t have to look up to him.

  “Elizabeth, I care about you. Maybe I can’t give you the answers you want, but hanging around Griffin won’t get them either.” His blue eyes are warm and soft.

  It takes everything I’ve got not to fall apart. I really believe he has the answers. If he doesn’t, I really don’t want to know what that means.

  Chapter Eight

  Saturday spills into my room at the edges of the curtains as I slip into the waking world. I sit up and stretch, trying to remember whether any nightmares had come to me last night, but it feels as though a black veil has fallen in my mind, and I can’t pull it aside, so I content myself with the idea that I must not have dreamed.

  From downstairs, I hear the drone of voices. At first I think the television is on, but the longer I listen, the more I recognize Jimmie’s voice. I try to make out the words and whom he’s speaking to but I can’t, and so I go to the window and peer out, hoping I’ll recognize the vehicle.

  It’s a police car.

  My stomach gives a nervous jump, and I head to the closet, grabbing the first sweater and jeans I find then I slink downstairs, hoping to catch at least the tail end of the conversation, but Jimmie stands at the front door where he has just seen a police officer out.

  “What’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?” He rakes his fingers through his hair and looks away.

  “Why were the cops here?”

  “No reason.” He walks toward me and takes my arm, guiding me toward the kitchen. “How about some breakfast? I’m starved.” He looks straight ahead, never at me, one way I can tell he’s lying.

  “Tell me.” I plant my feet and pull away.

  For a moment his gaze locks with mine, and behind the tough exterior, I see a panic rising, which means whatever has happened has to do with me. Jimmy rarely panics about anything else.

  “Somebody grafittied the garage door,” he admits. As I start to go outside to see, he grabs at my arm. “Stay in the house. I’ll paint it this afternoon.”

  “I want to see.”

  “You’re not going out there. Period.” He walks to the front door to peer out where the cop is taking pictures.

  “Why? It’s about me, isn’t it?” I stride toward him. “Jimmie, it’s been this way in lots of places. I’ve gotten used to it. I never fit in in either world, and that’s not going to change.” I grab the doorknob to go outside, but his hand stops me.

  “This isn’t just about fitting in, Lizzie. Just take my word.” His blue eyes beg, and the solid-as-a-rock Jimmy disappears.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just let it go!” he snaps, releasing my hand and pacing the room.

  “I can’t.” I rush to the door and slip outside before Jimmie can stop me. The cop, who has just put the camera away, looks up, probably expecting Jimmie.

  “Hello, Elizabeth.”

  “Hi.” I step up to the garage and see the words “Half Breed” scrawled in red paint across the door in letters two feet tall. I take a step back, though I’m not really surprised by it. It’s the same writing, I note, as on the locker mirror, and I cringe.

  “Do you have any idea who would do this?”

  “No.” I think about telling him about the locker, but I’m sure that Jimmy has already done that. He’s never really been one to let me speak for myself. I know he means well, but sometimes it just makes me crazy.

  I head inside and see Jimmie perched on the edge of the sofa, cigarette in hand. He’s lost in thought and doesn’t even hear me come in.

  “I thought you quit.” I drop into the recliner.

  He grins halfheartedly. “I did.” Smoke wafts around him, and his taut posture and somber expression remind me of a pianist in a jazz club. His bloodshot eyes dart toward me.

  “Jimmie, that wasn’t so bad. It’s probably just a prank like my locker.”

  “Maybe.” He takes a long drag from the cigarette and stubs it out. “Then again, just before your dad disappeared, someone painted words on his house, too. “Red trash.” I never wanted to tell you that because I hoped we’d never come back here.” He shakes his head.

  “It’s just a coincidence. That was years ago.” I get up and sit next to him so I can lean against him.

  “Maybe.” He wraps his arm around me. “I wish we’d never come back here.”

  “So it’s easier to believe somebody’s after me?” Even though I had a hard time making that leap, some part of me believed it. After the nightmares, I could believe anything.

  “I watched the way this town tried to destroy your dad, Lizzie. Every day. When just making his daily life difficult didn’t work, the graffiti came. That didn’t work, either. And after that, he was gone. He left, they said, but I never bought it. I was never able to prove something bad had happened to your dad, but I know something did.” He closes his eyes, his l
ips pinched together uncomfortably. “He’s probably buried somewhere in this town and whoever got him is still here, going about his business as though he’d simply provided a public service. Now you’re in danger, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  He gets up and walks away, heading to his bedroom. Although he’s stubbed out the cigarette, a faint bloom of smoke still rises from it, and I watch until it fades. That’s how I feel, like life is just ebbing from me. Maybe Jimmie’s right. Maybe somebody is out there who hates me based on my bloodline, but I’m not going to just hide and duck my head.

  Feeling the anger simmering just beneath the surface, I grab my camera, slip on my coat, and drive off before Jimmie can lock me away like Rapunzel.

  Although there is still snow on the ground, the roads are clearing some. A few years ago, Jimmie told me about this beautiful hiking trail not far from his mom’s house. There’s a waterfall, which considering the snow and all, should be beautiful this time of year. Right now I could stand for something to calm me down. In Dallas, I used to visit the arboretum a lot. Something about nature tends to put bad stuff in perspective, and this waterfall sounds like my new arboretum.

  Glancing in my rear-view mirror, I check to see if Jimmie is following me. No cars there, so at the park entrance, I tap my turn signal, and park near the trail head. Apparently I’m not the only one who’s here, another vehicle, a Porsche, sits in the lot. Then I realize that the car belongs to Griffin, and for a second I think twice about taking a hike. But this place doesn’t belong to Griffin, and I’ve had it with people trying to force me out of things.

  The image of Lev standing in the hallway yesterday comes to mind. I keep seeing the way he has his feet planted a couple of feet apart with his arms crossed over his chest, as if to say that nothing gets past him. It just irritates me, and if he won’t give me any answers, I don’t really see that his warnings are all that. I mean, Griffin is an absolute idiot. Any girl in her right mind can see that. But a dangerous idiot? I don’t really believe that. And I really doubt he had anything to do with the graffiti. His parents would absolutely kill him, and if the town found out it was Griffin, what would that do for his reputation?