SHUT UP
SPEAK UP
SPEAK
“Me, too.”
Kristyn’s voice is incredulous. “No way. You’re totally normal.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Well, you’re more normal than me. I mean, do you ever feel like there’s something wrong with you ALL the time?”
“All the time,” Mary says, beginning to cry. “I feel like that all the time.”
“What? Mare! There’s nothing wrong with you! When have you ever gotten in trouble? You’re awesome.”
“I’m horrible.”
“Mary! No way! I’m serious. You’re pretty much the exact opposite of everything I hate about everyone.”
Mary chokes out the words, “There are bad things inside me,” before covering her face with her hands and sobbing. Kristyn reaches over to embrace her, to comfort her, but Mary pulls away.
“Shit. I’m sorry, Mare.” Kristyn waits for her to calm down but Mary’s body continues to be wracked by sobs. “Mare, should I go out and sleep on the couch so you can be alone?”
Please stay
Mary nods.
“It’s all right. I know you’re not mad at me or anything. Don’t be so hard on yourself, okay? You’re awesome.”
Kristyn gets up and steps lightly out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Lying in bed, her face still covered by her hands, Mary is suddenly, hideously aware of the enormous pressure of the shadows within her. They push and push and push, relentless. With a deep and shuddering breath, she gives up her last, desperate vestige of control, and the shadows explode silently into her room.
S
The next morning, Mary wakes, stiff and groggy, to see a scrap of paper lying on her nightstand. Sleepily, she retrieves the paper, a note, written in red pen on a torn cigarette box. “hi mary – hope you’re ok. you were sleeping when i got up so i snuck out. thanks for the shirt. say thanks to *barbie* give me a call! luv k..”
Mary rests her head back on her pillow and closes her eyes, relieved that everything with Kristyn is fine, and that her secret is still safe, hidden behind the closed door of her bedroom.
Are you sure Kristyn closed the door?
Mary is thrown into full and sudden alertness. She checks the door to see that, yes, it is still closed, but the hook hangs down, unlatched.
When did Kristyn leave the note? Did she see anything?
She quickly dismisses the thought; anyone who had seen her shadows wouldn’t have left such a friendly letter.
She would have screamed when she saw what was inside me
If there was anything to see at all, you mean
Maybe the shadows were already gone when Kristyn came in
And maybe you’re crazy
CHAPTER
Sixteen
As she waits for her class trip to the arboretum to begin, Mary stares out the school bus window, notebook in her lap, vaguely aware of bodies shuffling by in the aisle. She sits, making herself as invisible as possible, willing everyone away.
“Are you saving this seat for anyone?” She turns her eyes slightly to see who is speaking to her.
Nate
Her heart jumps into her throat, stifling her voice.
She shakes her head no and moves closer to the window.
Nate crams his backpack onto the overhead rack, and then drops his large frame onto the seat, filling most of it. “How’s it going?”
She shrugs her shoulders, still unable to speak. “Did you change your hair?” he asks. “It looks real good on you.”
She nods.
“Man, I’ve got so much stuff to do today, I don’t know how I’m supposed to get it all done. You’ve probably got a ton of stuff to do, too, right?”
Just talk to him
You know you shouldn’t, not after all that’s happened
From the edge of her vision, she sees Nate waiting for a response, tapping his finger anxiously.
You’re making him nervous. Just say something
“I guess,” Mary says at last.
“School sucks.”
“Yeah.”
See? Nothing bad happened
“I’ve got this arboretum thing, and then a test, and then football practice after school. You like football?”
She shrugs her shoulders.
“Know anything about football?”
She shakes her head slightly.
“Do you want me to teach you about it? It’s pretty easy. Well, actually, there’s a lot of little rules but the main idea is pretty simple.”
“Okay.”
“Let’s see … Football is a game. I guess that’s obvious. And you play it on a football field – that’s obvious, too, I guess. Actually, it’s not really a game, it’s more of a sport. Or maybe it’s both. I don’t know what the difference is, do you?” Again, she gently shakes her head no. “Maybe sports have sports equipment? No, that doesn’t make sense, ’cause of things like running. I don’t know.” He exhales deeply and looks down at his lap.
You’re still making him nervous
He’s nervous ’cause he likes me. Is that so bad?
You can’t be with him. Sooner or later, he’s going to want to … you know, and you know you can’t
I like him
“I don’t know,” she admits.
“Well, anyway, you’ve got two teams of twelve, which is different in Canada than in the States. And, ’cause soccer is called ‘football’ by the rest of the world, everyone else calls our football ‘American Football,’ which isn’t even right because Canadian football has a lot of differences, like fewer downs and bigger teams.”
As Nate speaks, Jordan, the long-faced boy who teased her on her first day of school, enters the bus.
Go away
He claims the seat in front of them.
Shoot
Mary tries to ignore Jordan, even as he turns and says “Hey” in Nate’s direction.
“Hey,” Nate replies. Jordan turns back and settles into his seat. Nate continues his attempt to educate Mary on the intricacies of football. “Okay, so you have two teams of twelve, or eleven in American football, and each one is trying to get the football into the other team’s end zone as many times as possible.”
Jordan turns his head to face them and says with a smirk, “What are you two talking about? Sounds dirty.” Nate rises in a burst of speed, pulls his elbow back and snaps a fist in Jordan’s direction, stopping at the last moment before contact is made. Jordan flinches backward and Mary pulls away, startled.
“Shit, I was just joking!” Jordan says.
“That was a warning. I’m in no mood for your shit.”
“Fine,” Jordan turns back in his seat, sulking.
Nate sits back down beside Mary. “Sorry. He’s pissing me off right now.”
“That’s okay.” As alarming as Nate’s outburst was, Mary feels a surprising sort of satisfaction at the thought of Nate hammering his fist into Jordan’s face.
“Anyway … what was I saying?”
“End zones or something,” she replies, smiling slightly.
“Oh, yeah, the end zone. Okay, the field is a hundred and ten yards long, with zero at the center and fifty-five yards going out on either end, so it’s fifty-five plus fifty-five, which makes a hundred and ten. And then at the very end are a few extra yards. Those are the end zones and they have the goal posts at the front, but only in Canada. Got it?”
“Sure.”
Not at all, but I don’t care
“Great. Okay, so the team with the ball is called the offense and the one trying to stop them is the defense. On offense, I play fullback and, on defense, I’m a line backer, which are both positions for big guys like me. If I get to make college ball, I’ll play offense or defense, but not both; it’s too hard to learn both playbooks, know what I mean?” Mary’s mind begins to drift on Nate’s sea of words, incomprehensible as they are to her.
“No.”
“Sorry. I
should probably shut up now.”
Before she can stop herself, she says, “No, I like you.”
What?!?
“Oh,” he says, looking taken aback.
What have you done?
She feels her heart sink, her stomach churn.
“That’s cool. I like you, too.” Jordan begins to snicker in front of them and Nate cuffs him hard across the back of the head.
“Should I keep going?” He asks and she nods, nearly paralyzed by the extraordinary, accidental revelation of her true feelings. “Okay, so in football, you score when you can get the ball into the opponent’s end zone. There are a few ways of scoring …” Nate leans forward to address the seat before them. “Jordan, I swear, if you say anything, I’m going to split your head open.” He leans back. “Sorry. So there are a few ways of scoring: you can carry the ball into the end zone, or catch it there, or kick it, or capture it. Is this making any sense?”
“Sort of …” Mary answers.
Liar
“… but not really.”
“Maybe I should draw a picture of it. Can I borrow your notebook?”
As she hands Nate her notebook, the teacher, Ms. Calens, climbs on board. She is stocky and slightly stern in appearance, a fact that is somewhat at odds with her casual khaki pants and a pale blue golf shirt. Her gray hair is short and untidy. She whistles loudly, then says, “We all here?” No one replies. “If you’re not here, speak up or be left behind. No? Okay.” The teacher gives the driver the go-ahead and the bus lurches into motion. The rest of the short drive is passed with Nate trying valiantly, but hopelessly, to explain the complicated machinery of football to Mary while she simply enjoys the sound of his voice.
Like being read a story
The bus draws to a halt in the shadow of apple trees that are heavy with ripe fruit. Ms. Calens stands to address the class.
“Okay, we’re guests here so I want you on your best behavior.” After pausing briefly for effect, she adds, “BETTER than your best behavior.” Her eyes sweep the students’ faces. “In forty-five minutes, the bus will be returning to the school. That’s forty-five minutes to locate and identify the traits of three of the tree species listed on your sheets and to take leaf rubbings from each. Many of the trees in the area are labeled, so you won’t have to go too far to find three different species. After forty-five minutes, this bus is leaving, with or without you. The driver will give a five-minute warning honk of the horn. Got it?”
To the amusement of his fellow students, Jordan calls out, “Got it, Cecile.”
She gives him a withering look. “Mr. Urbano. Do you want to fail this class?”
“Uh … no?”
“Uh … no?” she says mockingly, her face stern. “Well then, you’d better shape up. I don’t want to spend yet another semester enjoying your ‘hilarious’ brand of humor, and I’m sure you don’t want to spend another staring at my smiling face. Now let’s all go find us some nature. Move it.”
Muttering under his breath, Jordan steps out of the bus.
It takes Nate and Mary twenty minutes to identify their three trees: Beech, Black Maple, and Slippery Elm. Afterward, they stand awkwardly, not quite sure what to do with themselves now that their task is complete. Staring downward as she so often does, Mary notices that Nate’s feet point slightly outward when he stands. For some reason she can’t explain, she finds this absolutely endearing.
“Uh … want to walk along that path?” Nate asks, gesturing toward a trail that leads into a forested area.
“Sure,” Mary replies, and the two head into the hall of the forest.
Little Red Riding Hood …
They walk in silence through afternoon light that streams through the trees, speckling them as they pass and brightening the undergrowth. The leaves are turning yellow and orange in the fullness of autumn. The smell of earth and compost rises up from beneath their feet. When they are out of earshot and sight of the class, Nate stops.
“Hey, Mariposa?”
Mariposa
She doesn’t mind her true name when Nate says it. She stops, turning toward him. She can see his nervousness, can tell that he is having a hard time speaking. With much effort, he manages to say, “Sorry, I’m no good at this. Okay, I know I’ve only known you for a little while, but I think you’re, like, really pretty and awesome.” He exhales deeply, then reaches out, taking her skinny fingers in his big hand. She looks at their joined hands, then up at his face. He dwarfs her, possibly doubling her in weight, but, looking at his kind, nervous face, she feels terrified and ecstatic, exposed and protected. Her heart races at the thought of what might come next.
She smiles, but looks quickly away to hide it.
“You’re pretty when you smile. I mean, you’re really pretty all the time but you’re, like, extra pretty when you’re smiling.”
“Thanks.” Her cheeks blush bright red.
Nate reaches out to touch her arm, just above where she clutches her notebook. She looks back at him. “It’s, uh, really romantic here …” He looks away from her, as if steeling himself for what is to come. “So, I guess … would it be okay if I kissed you?”
You can’t do this. Get away. Don’t do it
She nods. He leans in toward her, tilting his head slightly and pressing his lips to hers.
A spark flashes from her core, singing out to her extremities, radiating excitement and fear throughout her entire body. His lips are warm and soft, the skin around them abrasive with stubble. She returns his kiss.
Stop this, or else
She raises one hand, setting it lightly on his arm.
I’m warning you …
Pulling back from her for a moment, he takes a deep breath, licks his lips, and smiles. “Was that okay? I haven’t actually done this very much. And I had Doritos for lunch.”
She nods in reply and he reaches out to take her arms gently in his hands. They kiss again, their eyes closing instinctively. He moves one hand to the small of her back and gently pulls her closer to him. His other hand runs up her arm, curling around the exposed nape of her neck. She can feel his warmth and strength around her, feels him pressing against her. The sensation is unlike anything she has ever felt before, and she wishes that she could freeze this moment, keep it like a photograph, forever unchanged.
Suddenly, her eyes snap open.
They’re here
The shadows. They are right below the surface, ready to emerge from within her. She has never felt so unprepared for their arrival.
RUN
She raises her hands to Nate’s chest, dropping her notebook as she does so, and pushes him away. In an instant, his face moves from closed-eye happiness, to surprise, and then intense concern. She wants to explain, to say, “I’m sorry …” but her constricted throat will not allow it. She runs away from him, bolting down the trail and out of the forest.
He shouts, “WAIT!” but she will not let herself hear him.
Mary sprints through the field that separates the bus from the trees. She hears a distant voice calling her name, only to find that the voice is actually right in front her. It’s her teacher, Ms. Calens, whose thickset form stands in Mary’s path, hands outstretched.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” her teacher calls.
Mary stops in front of Ms. Calens, her body exhausted but her mind racing frantically. One thought, one question, rises above all the rest.
Will they come?
A shiver runs through her body, causing a tight, quivering spasm.
“Mary, Mary, what’s wrong?” Mary does not, cannot, answer. “Are you all right? What happened?”
Through the rushing in her head, Mary can hear Nate’s heavy footsteps pounding in her direction.
Please, stay away …
Ms. Calens says, “Wait here, honey” and then walks past Mary. Mary does not turn to see him, but she can hear Nate’s voice.
“Jesus,” he says, breathing heavily.
Ms. Calens addresses him in a no-nonsense
tone. “Do you care to tell me why this young lady came tearing out of the woods?”
“I don’t know,” he replies, bending to place his hands on his knees while he catches his breath. “She wouldn’t tell me. I brought her notebook. Oh, man. I’m out of shape.”
“Don’t bullshit me here. This is serious.”
“Honestly, I don’t know. We were just, you know, hanging out in the woods.”
“Uh-huh,” she mutters accusingly.
“Well, we were just holding hands and stuff … and then … and she just … she just freaked out and ran away. I tried to get her to tell me what was wrong, but she took off and wouldn’t tell me.”
With disbelief in her voice, the teacher adds, “For no reason?”
“For no reason! I swear. I swear I didn’t hurt her, I mean, I …” His voice takes on the slightest of quavers. “What’s wrong? Is she going to be okay?”
“I think so,” the teacher replies, her voice slightly calmer.
“Can I talk to her?”
“I don’t think that would be wise.”
“Why not?”
“Because you did something to upset her …”
Nate interrupts, “But …!”
“… something unintentional,” the teachers adds in an appeasing tone, “and something I don’t want to happen again. I believe you, but I think you’re going to have to tell the whole story to your VP when we get back.”
“But I didn’t do anything!”
“I know, I know. You’re not in trouble here …” The teacher lowers her voice beyond what Mary can hear. In a few moments, Ms. Calens returns to Mary, facing her head-on. Mary’s breath is short and ragged.
“Honey?” The teacher reaches out an arm to offer comfort to Mary, but she flinches at the touch. “Are you okay to get on the bus?”
Mary nods.
“Okay, let’s get you sitting down and I’ll get you a drink of water.”
Mary follows her teacher, one hand gripping the opposite arm, holding herself in.
On the bus, Ms. Calens hands Mary a thin plastic bottle of lukewarm water. The unpleasant odor of the school bus mingles with the smell of decaying apples that drifts in through the window. Ms. Calens sits down in the seat opposite, silently watching. After a few minutes, she checks the time. Leaning forward, she says, “I’m going to call the rest of the class in, okay? I’ll make sure you get this seat to yourself.” Mary nods and Ms. Calens stands. She speaks to the driver, then steps out of the bus as the horn is blown twice. She yells, “FIVE-MINUTE WARNING!”
M in the Abstract Page 11