Archanum Manor

by Michael Pierce

Her expression was back to disbelief or confusion.

  “He’s…”

  I nodded.

  “I don’t understand. He was fine a week ago.”

  I was about to say more when Mr. Clayton asked for all student attention up front.

  “I’ll explain tomorrow,” I whispered.

  “No, you’ll explain right after class,” she demanded, beginning to cry.

  “Mr. Grain?” Mr. Clayton said.

  I looked forward at being called out in front of the whole class.

  “You’ve been gone an awfully long time. Do you have a note from the office?”

  I shook my head.

  “Would you come up here please?”

  When I stood up from my desk, Leslie did the same with tears rolling down her cheeks, sniffling loudly like she was having a sudden allergy attack. She wouldn’t look me in the eyes before bolting out of class without a coherent word.

  “Class, please get started on pages 117–121 in your books,” Mr. Clayton said as he ushered me into his connecting office/storage room.

  “Did you come back just to make the girls in my class cry?” he asked, squinting at me as he pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. His face was contorted in a disapproving sneer, and he didn’t appear to be joking.

  “No, sir,” I responded.

  “Miss Behring has been gone for a while, too, and I know you two are close. Do you know where she has been?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well, you’ve missed too much class,” he said, leaning back against the desk and folding his arms. “To get more than an incomplete, you’ll have to make up time this summer.”

  “I understand. That’s not a problem.” I knew it wouldn’t be a problem because I wouldn’t be back.

  “Okay…well…you need to get all this absenteeism worked out with administration. You can do that now.”

  “Can’t I just sit through class?” I asked. “I’ll get it all sorted out later today, but for now I just want to stay here…and learn.”

  Mr. Clayton thought about it for a moment and his demeanor softened.

  “Sure, you’re welcome to stay, but please bring me a note tomorrow. Also, talk with me after class and we’ll arrange some times to help you get caught up.”

  I thanked him for his help and returned to my seat. Leslie hadn’t returned, and I tried not to think about her sobbing in the bathroom over my dead brother. After last night, I was all cried out.

  My day of normalcy did not include continuing my conversation with Leslie about Jeremy’s death. Sure, she deserved some answers, but she’d never get real closure anyway. There would be no funeral and she wouldn’t be able to visit his tombstone. No matter what I told her, I’d never be able to fully satisfy her yearning for answers, for the truth, which constituted acceptable closure. I would have to skip out a few minutes early and dodge her completely.

  Leslie stormed back into the classroom a few minutes later. She slung her backpack over her shoulder, picked up her notebook, and spoke loudly. “May I be excused? I need to see the nurse.”

  Mr. Clayton wrote her a hall pass. She stopped briefly at my desk, keeping her eyes toward the door, and said, “I can’t do this right now. Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow,” I repeated, knowing tomorrow would never truly come.

  Second and third periods passed by without incident, helping me to find the calm and normalcy I’d been craving. Both teachers were concerned with my absence, but neither one made me leave the classroom. When I sat down on the rickety wooden bench before my gym locker, it took me seven tries to get it open. One more failed attempt to remember my combination and I would have given up entirely.

  I sat before the open locker as guys around me changed into their gym clothes. I couldn’t remove my jacket with everyone around me. The concealed holster had grown heavy on my shoulders.

  At the far end of the row, Logan would typically be changing, but he wasn’t here either—another reminder that life had not returned to normal. Logan had stayed at the camp with Darius and his family and I was confident I’d see them again soon, but today I tried to distract myself from thinking of any future rebellion-related obligations.

  One by one, the guys trickled out of the locker room and soon my row was empty. I peeked around the corner and saw those in the aisle were headed for the door. I rushed to remove my jacket and shoulder holster, hid the weapon in the coat bundle, and stuffed them both in the back of the locker. Then I placed my backpack in front of the bundle—out of sight, out of mind. Now I could change at a leisurely pace and join the rest of the students on the blacktop.

  I got outside just in time to see my class disappear down the hill, headed toward the football field. I hurried after them, not worried about missing roll call. Coach Andrews stopped on the track that surrounded the field like a moat. I then knew what was on the agenda for today: running the mile.

  When I reached the rest of the class on the track, Coach Andrews finally noticed me.

  “Grain, so glad you could join us,” he said.

  “Happy to be here, sir,” I replied.

  “We need to talk about your—”

  “I know,” I said, cutting him off. “My attendance. I’ll see you after class.” Though I had no intention of keeping this promise, either.

  And that seemed to put him at ease. “All right. Good plan.”

  He went back to addressing the class, telling everyone to stretch and do their best. This wasn’t a race against others, only yourself. Only you knew how much effort you were putting into your run. He had a clipboard of last week’s results and encouraged us to best our own times.

  Obviously, I didn’t have results from last week on the clipboard, but if any of my old times were on there, then they’d be nothing to brag about. Coach Andrews had told me (on several occasions) that I wasn’t living up to my potential. I thought about his feedback, and when the whistle blew, I began running—not a halfhearted jog, but an actual run for a time I could be proud of. I ran from the orderly in black scrubs. I ran from the Lorne Royal Guard. I ran from gunfire in the Doria Falls rebellion camp. I ran from Kafka as he cleared a path through the forest. And I ran with Jeremy across the beach after the third Guardian of the Great In-Between was slain. I now knew what it felt like to run for my life, and I was still alive. I didn’t think about running. I didn’t think about impressing people in gym class. I thought about staying alive—how I had to stay alive—and to do so, I needed to train. And I needed to take any opportunity to train that I could. So I ran.

  When I crossed the finish line, I nearly collapsed on the dirt. My whole body felt like it was on the brink of shutting down. But at least it wasn’t compounded by the crippling fear of being chased and shot at.

  As I gained control of my breath again, I looked at everyone still running...and walking. And then I noticed my present company and realized I’d come in third place, just behind the first and second runners.

  “6:15,” Coach Andrews said, walking up behind me and clapping me on the shoulder. “That was impressive. What were you doing during your time away?”

  “Running, sir. A lot of running.”

  “Well, it most certainly paid off. Nice job.” His smile radiated pride while he scribbled down my time on the clipboard.

  I was impressed by the time, too, now knowing I could do anything I set my mind to. And for the past six minutes, I had set my mind to running.

  I was one of the first to head back to change. Rushing to the back of the locker room, I found myself alone. I quickly changed my shirt so I could strap on the shoulder holster and cover it with my jacket. I was still sweating, which didn’t help with the addition of the jacket, but I had little choice. A few more guys joined me in the back row a few moments later, but they didn’t even glance my way. I probably could have strapped on the holster in front of them and they still wouldn’t have noticed.

  Once I finished changing, I headed out of the locker room. Coach Andrews
was conversing with a few female students on the blacktop, so I was able to slip away to the quad unnoticed.

  There wasn’t much food in my house, so I had packed a lunch of peanut butter and jelly on a bagel with a side of cherry tomatoes. On the way to my locker to retrieve my poor lunch, a girl caught my eye—a girl I thought I’d never see again.

  Anna.

  2

  Returned

  Anna sat on one of the brick tree planters, with Blaine and his new girlfriend (whose name I couldn’t remember) sitting on an adjacent bench. Several others from Blaine’s group of friends trickled into their lunch area.

  Anna looked just as I remembered her from school. She was nothing like the broken girl from the asylum, spouting nonsense in the Rec. Room and slitting her wrists in her cell—images that had haunted me ever since I escaped. She wore washed-out skinny jeans that were tucked into her black leather boots. A green flannel shirt hugged her upper body, with a black T-shirt thrown over it. Her strawberry blonde hair was shorter than I remembered, more like when I first met her, tucked back with a headband. She was talking and laughing, a sight I never thought I’d see again.

  When I strolled up to the group, Blaine was the first to notice me. He gave me a curt nod, which I returned.

  “I’m not Jillian,” Blaine’s girlfriend said.

  “I know,” I said. “And again, I’m sorry about the misunderstanding before.” The words were hollow. I couldn’t have cared less about her. I was staring intently at Anna.

  “How are you?” I asked.

  Anna finished chewing her mouthful of pasta before answering. “Fine?” she said, sounding completely oblivious to my real question.

  I wanted to approach her further, throw my arms around her, and beg for her forgiveness for ever suggesting she come with me to Provex City. But she made no attempt to rise, so I made no attempt to step closer. There was an uneasiness about her that I should have expected after all she’d been through.

  “I was worried about you,” I said, not wanting to say too much in front of everyone else in the group and just as I was about to ask her to talk in private, she said something that stopped me cold.

  “Why?” she asked with genuine curiosity. “Who are you?”

  I searched her eyes for some sense of recognition or some cruel joke. She silently challenged me to answer. I glanced over at Blaine who shrugged apathetically.

  “His name’s Oliver,” Blaine said after a long group silence. “You two used to date.”

  Anna burst out laughing. “Good one. I may have forgotten a few things over the past few weeks, from my time in the hospital, but I remember all of my exes. This guy certainly isn’t one of them.”

  “I tried,” Blaine said.

  “The hospital, exactly!” I exclaimed, seeing my window to trigger a trapped memory. “I visited you in the hospital. Remember? You had the cast on your leg. Remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember,” Anna said, all humor gone. “I broke it when I was ten. Blaine was there. Desiree was there. Eli was there. You weren’t.”

  “No, I didn’t know you when you were ten,” I said. She truly had no memory of me, and it hurt. All that we had been through was gone, erased like chalk on the driveway after a heavy rain. She had woken up from her dream and returned to the normal world, exactly what I’d been trying to do all day. “Well at least you remember Desiree.”

  “Of course,” she said matter-of-factly. “We’ve been best friends since first grade. How do you know her? Maybe that’s why you think you know me.”

  “Maybe. Does Provex City mean anything to you?”

  “No. Should it?”

  I shook my head.

  “You really don’t have much luck here,” Blaine said. “See you in art?”

  I nodded and left. I found myself heading for Mr. Gordon’s classroom without thinking. My locker with the sad lunch I’d packed was back in the opposite direction, but I didn’t change course.

  It hurt to be entirely erased from Anna’s past, but I was glad she didn’t remember her time in the asylum—the horrible things she’d had to endure. And then I remembered what my mother had done for me, the things she’d helped me forget to try and give me a normal—a better life.

  I glanced back and saw everyone in the group back in the groove of cheerful conversation. Anna. I wouldn’t forget her. She was the first girl I’d kissed—or had she kissed me—it didn’t matter anymore. The important thing was she had her life back. Desiree had her friend back. And I was no longer responsible for her death. I guess I couldn’t ask for much more.

  I entered the Humanities building and sat across the hall from Mr. Gordon’s classroom. The door was closed and the light, off.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket. Taking it out, I saw a text from Desiree.

  Can I come over? she asked.

  I’m not home.

  Where are you?

  I thought about whether or not to tell her the truth, and finally decided it was easier to do so.

  School, I said.

  ?

  Anna’s here.

  ?!?

  I stared at my screen for a minute, thinking of the best way to respond.

  I’m on my way, Desiree said.

  Crap, I thought.

  My stomach growled, but I didn’t want to go back into the quad, so I suffered through the hunger. If Desiree left now, she’d make it to campus in about a half hour, right in the middle of history. Every few minutes, a new student or two claimed a spot on the wall. I noticed a few of them glancing over at me.

  After another few minutes, a short girl named Stephanie spoke up. “You’ve been gone a long time. Where have you been?”

  “Sick,” I said.

  “This whole time?”

  “Very sick,” I reiterated.

  The strap of my shoulder holster was beginning to dig into my back from leaning against the wall.

  A tall, lanky gray-haired man with overly thick glasses approached from down the hall. He stopped at Mr. Gordon’s door, opened it, and flipped on the classroom lights.

  “Good afternoon, everyone,” he said in a pleasantly cheerful tone.

  I didn’t know what I was expecting. I knew Mr. Gordon wouldn’t be here. But seeing the new teacher just reinforced everything that today really was—a pale imitation of my former life, an illusion.

  The new teacher held the door for all of the waiting students, who meandered into the classroom, most of them returning his warm greeting.

  I stood up, but didn’t move away from the wall.

  When everyone who’d been waiting was inside, he looked to me. “Are you in this class? Oliver Grain? The student who’s been out for the past few weeks?”

  The illusion around me was melting away. I could no longer pretend it wasn’t or that this was real life anymore.

  “No,” I said. “That’s not me.” And I walked away, toward the double doors.

  Most of the students were now headed to their respective classes. Blaine’s group had dispersed. I scanned the sea of bobbing heads, but didn’t spot Anna amongst them. I crossed the quad, no longer afraid of running into her, and retrieved my lunch from my locker. While the quad emptied out, I took a seat right where Anna had been sitting and ate my pathetic excuse for a sandwich. The bell rang as I took the last bite and grabbed the bag of cherry tomatoes. They were already turning pruney, but I popped one in my mouth anyway.

  I kept an eye out for Desiree, estimating she’d be here within the next ten to fifteen minutes, and she surprised me by arriving within five. I didn’t know if she had run half of the way or been dropped off, but she’d gotten here fast.

  She quickly spotted me sitting on the brick planter.

  “Thanks for the invite this morning,” she said, storming up to me.

  “It was good for you to spend time with your family.”

  “Who’re you to decide what’s good for me?”

  “Fine,” I said. “Then I wanted today for myself. A kinda way of
saying goodbye.”

  “What about me? Don’t I deserve the same?”

  “You’re not leaving forever.”

  She stood before me with one foot cocked out and hands on her hips. “How do you know that? I don’t even know.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. This was not how I wanted my last school day to end. “I should have called you this morning.”

  Her expression softened and she took a seat beside me. “I’m sorry, too. I’m just stressed and freaked out not knowing what’s coming next.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Don’t even say it,” she interrupted and snaked an arm through mine. “Just don’t.” I could tell she brushed up against the concealed weapon strapped under my arm. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “For your protection, M’Lady,” I said with a smirk. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m freaked out, too. It’s probably why I’m here today; not wanting to face what I know is coming.”

  “At least I’m not the only one.”

  We sat quietly together, taking in every detail of the school, watching random students getting along with their normal day. I envied them a little. It was safe.

  “What class does Anna have this period?” I finally asked.

  “English,” Desiree whispered, like it was a secret.

  “Then let’s go see her.” I hopped down from the planter and pulled her to her feet.

  I knew we were headed for the humanities building, but had no idea which classroom Anna was in. Instead of going through the double doors, Desiree led me around the perimeter of the building, toward the main entrance of the school. Around the corner, we stopped at the second doorway. The door was closed, but we took turns peering through the rectangular wire-glass window. The class was doing some type of writing assignment. I spotted Anna near the middle of the class, writing furiously on a sheet of loose-leaf paper.

  I stepped aside and let Desiree peek in on her best friend again.

  “What did I tell you?” I asked.

  “I knew you weren’t lying, I just really needed to see her for myself after everything you told me that happened to her.” She glanced in one more time and then stepped away from the door. “Are you sure all of what you said actually happened? It seemed like they drugged you up pretty good, as well as a whole hell of a lot of mental torture.”