by Abra Ebner
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, Jake.”
He tried to smile as he inhaled his medicine.
I shook my head, giving him one last nod before I turned and ran in the opposite direction of the nurse’s office. I glanced back to see Jake nervously bustling down the hall and away from the classroom, following my directions. I slid on my heel as I turned the corner, making my way out and into the parking lot where I saw Wes’s car still parked in the spot he had left it in this morning. I walked briskly across the pavement, nearly running. As I drew close, I saw that Wes was inside. Grabbing the handle of the car door, I opened it and ducked in as the old leather of the seats squealed in protest.
“Wes,” I said his name, urging him to look at me. He was breathing hard, gripping the wheel with both hands. The look on his face frightened me. The whispers in my head returned, chanting something I couldn’t understand. I blinked hard and tried to press them to the back of my thoughts. “Wes, what’s going on?” I gasped. I touched his arms but he shied away, as though it had hurt.
He looked in my direction, his eyes reddened. “Em—I…”
“Shh… Wes, it’s alright.” I wanted to comfort him, but I knew he didn’t want that. I looked at the wheel of his car, then him. “Here...”
I carefully lifted myself off the seat, moving over the shifter, and into his lap, thereby forcing him to switch seats with me. He didn’t seem to care, his pain too great to resist. He grabbed my hips as he moved out from under me, and I couldn’t help but take pleasure in the brief contact.
I sat in his seat, left very warm from his clearly feverish body. I turned and reached across him, fishing into his coat pocket for the keys. I pulled them out with a shaking hand, forced them into the ignition, and started the car. I looked at the foreign dash, biting my lip and trying to acclimate myself. I fought with the shifter and clutch as the car whined, but so did Wes. I clumsily made my way out of the lot and down the street, praying that I could figure this out fast enough to get him away.
I’d saved him. I was his hero.
Jane:
At lunch, Wes was nowhere in sight. I looked around for Emily but didn’t see her, either. I took my milk and sandwich to a table outside, sitting alone. I kept my head down, trying to eat as fast as I could. Looking up, I saw Liz approach, along with her new future death: lying in a park, her body gorged with ice cream. I couldn’t help but snicker just a little.
Liz glanced at me and smiled discreetly, but didn’t bother to stop and say hello. It was too public for her to acknowledge knowing me here, and I wasn’t considered the type you’d want to be seen talking to while recruiting new freshman minions, especially after this week.
I watched her and her friends walk across the courtyard before looking back to the bagel in my hands. Walking was an art form for them, and every boy in school, even the druggies, stared hopelessly. Each one of her friends’ deaths involved dying from some sort of unpopularity. I laughed some more at the irony.
I opened my milk, taking a sip and feeling increasingly embarrassed to be alone as the humor of what I’d just seen faded. Anxiety gripped my stomach, and I rose to leave, despite my unfinished food.
I grabbed my bag, lifting it off the ground. It was then that I glanced up in time to see Max enter the courtyard. I froze, my bag sliding back unnoticed onto the grass. An image appeared in my mind. I saw him in the graveyard again, the wind in his hair, smiling at me as though mocking the fact that he was still undead. A basketball player stopped to talk with him, looking slightly intimidated by Max’s lean muscle and height. The player handed him a flyer, but Max looked less than interested. He nodded absently.
My heart began to beat a little harder, the anxiety replaced with a happier sort of butterfly feeling. I saw Liz take notice of Max, turning her body to face him as she perked her chest in the air, standing straighter. All I could see when she did that was her dead face covered with rainbow sprinkles.
I leaned against the table, figuring I’d stick around to see what happened. Her entourage began to giggle and point, but Max didn’t seem to notice, or care. Liz trotted over to him, her blonde hair waving behind her. She delicately nibbled on one nail, twisting her foot in the grass and batting her lashes. I grumbled to myself as he smiled at her. My heart sank as I continued to stare, unable to draw my eyes away from them.
What had I really hoped? That he liked me? Just because he had spoken to me meant nothing—just because I happened to dream of him also meant nothing. I was a bumbling geek playing out an imaginary relationship in my head.
I looked at Liz’s perfect clothes, made from the most expensive fabric, and shoes that looked brand new. I looked down at my own outfit, inspecting the jeans I’d had for two years now, dotted with charcoal smudges I couldn’t seem to get out. The plaid shirt I was wearing once belonged to my father, and as such, it hung shapelessly over my frame. My skin was pale, and not the cute, fair pale, but the gaunt, sickly type.
Feeling a bout of desperation wash over me, I pulled a hair band from my wrist and grasped the extra fabric of the flannel behind my back. I balled it into a knot, fastening it with the band. I then rolled the sleeves up, hoping that it could help make me appear less frumpy—though it regretfully revealed more pale skin. I blew the loose bits of hair from my face, telling myself that this was as good as it was going to get. At least I was wearing blue today, just as I had in the dream. Maybe if he had really been there, then he’d notice my play on color—the same color of his eyes.
I brushed the rest of my hair away from my face and sat up tall, hoping it made me more appealing. Glancing up, I saw that Liz was draping herself across his shoulders, her hand caressing his chest. I watched shamelessly, forgetting that I was gawking. Max laughed as his head fell back, but when it tilted foreword, his gaze locked on me.
My heart leapt and I quickly looked away, grabbing my milk and taking another sip. I continued to force myself to sit straight and appear unfazed, pretending that I hadn’t been watching. The fact that I was sitting alone was a downside, but I ignored how it appeared and tried my best to look as though sitting alone was a confidence thing, and not due to my lack of friends.
From the corner of my eye, I saw him break away from Liz. I looked up, his oceanic eyes on me as he walked across the yard. I licked my lips, the butterflies returning with a vengeance as the smirk on his face grew. Liz looked hurt as she pouted behind him, her ego deflated. I looked at his clothes, admiring his rugged new outfit. He too wore a flannel, with the sleeves rolled past his tattoos and his jeans another no-name pair. For a moment, I felt mildly awkward, seeing that we were practically matching.
Liz flicked her hair over her shoulder, looking embarrassed, but she seemed to shrug it off rather quickly and turn back to her friends.
Max was close now, just a few feet away.
“Staring again, Jane?” he said as he approached. My name lingered on his tongue, my eyes unable to part from his mouth—his beautiful face.
“I—uh… No.” I frowned, looking away. I was trying to pretend I didn’t care about Liz, though I did.
Max sat, leaning his elbows on the table, his arms so long, that they reached onto my half. He clasped his fingers around the carton of milk I was still holding, causing the skin on my hand to tingle.
“Sure you weren’t.” He winked, flashing his teeth as his lip remained curled. “Having a good day?”
I shifted on the bench, my back was beginning to ache from my unnatural posture. I wasn’t used to sitting up this straight. I played with the spout of the milk carton with my thumb, not willing to move my hand and admit defeat. I considered his question and shrugged in response.
“I saw you were alone. Someone like you should never be alone.” His head tilted down, his blue eyes trying to catch my gaze, urging me to look up at him.
His words warmed me, and the little silver flecks in his eyes that I found so intriguing entranced me. I tried to hide a smile, but my slowly blushing cheeks said it all.
His hand lifted from the carton, touching my chin and tilting it up. I blinked, his eyes searching mine as he held my gaze. He smiled, and then brushed a piece of hair from my face. His touch was cold. I figured it was from the chilly fall air. I felt so vulnerable, my heart racing in my chest.
“You’re beautiful, you know that?” His hand dropped from my chin.
I glanced over his shoulder. Liz was still watching from far across the yard, her cheeks reddened with jealously and her ice cream death still a factor. I looked back into Max’s eyes, feeling smug. I knew I needed to say something, but it was hard to discern if this was real or just a dream.
I bit my lip nervously. “Thanks.”
I didn’t know how to accept a compliment, and my singular response came across as bashful. I rarely received such comments, except from Wes, but those didn’t count.
“Jane.” His tone of voice was suddenly forceful. “You are.”
I couldn’t look away this time, my body heat suddenly soaring. I felt too close to him, uncomfortably close, but I wanted it to happen.
The bell for the end of lunch rang sooner than I’d expected. I cursed to myself. They never gave us enough time. Just another five minutes, please. My jaw clenched in annoyance. I didn’t want him to leave. I no longer wanted to push him away. He grinned, as though he knew what I was thinking—as though he were thinking the same thing.
“Will you meet me after school?” he asked as he stood. “And, can I drive you home? Do you think Wes will be okay with that?”
I hung on his words, rolling the invite over and over in my head. How did he know so much about me? I looked around, seeing that Wes was still nowhere in sight.
“Oh, uh… Sure. He won’t mind.” I paused. “He’s just a friend,” I added with a nod.
Max was still smiling. “I know.” His reply was filled with confidence, an idea strange to me. He pressed his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans. “Well, Jane, I’ll see you then.”
I was still sitting on the bench, staring up at him like a girl in love for the first time. The courtyard was nearly empty, but I was afraid that if I stood, my knees would buckle. I grabbed my bag off the grass as I watched him leave. Placing it on the bench next to me, I leaned my elbow on the table and put my head in my hand. I exhaled, smiling to myself.
Life had never felt this good.
Wes:
I watched Emily drive, my car edging along. The gears were all wrong, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was for the pain to stop. I struggled to breathe as every little movement felt like a hundred swords being plunged into my soul. I looked at the speedometer, seeing we were reaching speeds of close to eighty. I saw why Jane and her mother never let her drive. The rubber of the tires gripped the rough cement, echoing in my ears.
“I’m taking you to a place I often go,” Emily spoke—looking at me with a concern I never knew she could posses.
This girl beside me was suddenly so different than the girl I’d always seen her to be. In class, she had known me. It was as though I’d felt her inside my head, there to help me when no one else could. I watched her as she drove, finding it the only thing that could ease some of the pain. Emily’s face was not unlike her sister’s, though shrouded in a layer of makeup that covered her flawless, milky skin.
Emily eyed me with a reproving look. She reached into her purse that still draped across her body, handling the wheel with one hand. I heard something jangle inside as she kept her eyes locked on the road. She pulled out an orange bottle—her bottle of drugs. At first I thought it was for her, but as she tossed the bottle to me, I looked at her with surprise.
“Take one,” she demanded. I did as she said, opening the bottle and tilting a few pills into my hand. There were red ones and white ones. I looked at her with questioning eyes.
“Just take one,” she snapped.
I grabbed a white one, pressing it onto my tongue and forcing it down. I put the rest of the pills back into the bottle, fastening the top before gripping it in my hand with pain. I sat back against the seat and shut my eyes.
“Wes, I—” Emily adjusted her grip on the wheel, stopping her words.
She slowed and turned off the main road. My car began to rattle. We were on a secluded side road, the woods surrounding us and gravel below. This wasn’t the same road where I’d been running off to hide, but it offered me the same comfort and I wondered how she knew that it would. I looked up at the trees looming overhead.
“Wes, this may sound crazy but—whatever is happening to you, I can sort of hear it happening.” She took one hand off the wheel and touched her head.
I looked at her, and she looked at me. She began to shift down, her gaze breaking from mine.
“I don’t know why, Wes, but I hear your pain. More now than ever before.”
I wanted to ask her how, and what she heard, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak.
She pulled onto another adjoining gravel road, older and even more overgrown than the last. We rattled over the ground for another half mile before the trees parted. I saw the makings of a very old and long forgotten house up ahead, something I never imagined could exist in Glenwood Springs. The windows were broken out, and vines had engulfed it. The front stoop was broken apart, the roof damaged and collapsed in many spots, showing the charred signs of a long ago fire.
“I don’t know how old this house is, or who it belonged to, but it’s why I love it.”
She was right. Houses didn’t look like this anymore, and I could see the draw. A few black birds shot from inside the structure and through the roof. I watched them as though in slow motion. Something about them stole the very breath from my lungs, and all the pain I’d felt suddenly clotted into my chest. It grew in intensity until I felt it was about to burst open. I doubled over, letting out a painful yell of agony. Emily slammed on the breaks and the car skidded through the dirt and gravel.
“Wes!” she screamed.
My bones rattled, the cry of the ravens screaming overhead. I gripped my ears, trying to silence the pain, but it was no use. I heard Emily gasp as the dust settled around the car.
Then the pain stopped.
Erik:
“Ahhh… Erik.” Greg’s voice hissed as he entered the ancient room.
I turned in alarm, gripping the edge of my wheelchair.
“Look at you! So hideously old,” he added.
My heart stung. “I knew you’d be back, Gregory. I warned Max that it was only a matter of time. You two are connected by a force he will never be able to outrun.” My voice crackled with age.
“You warned Max, did you? Like that does any good anymore.” Greg rolled his eyes. “Brother, tell me. Why do you hate me so much?” He sneered, knowing the answer that swam in my head. He leaned against the nearby bookshelf, tracing his fingers across the ancient books.
I felt the hatred inside me rise the way it had that day. “You killed our family, Gregory. What more reason do I need?” I hissed. I tried to seem fierce, but I was still human. There was no way I could ever win against him.
Greg’s attention fell away from the books as his hands dropped to his sides. He approached me and grabbed my neck, applying pressure. “I killed them because they were worthless. How could you not see that they were horrible parents?” He let go of my neck and turned toward the center of the room, his hands in the air. “They spent their days hosting lavish parties, entertaining every patron in town as though they were saints. And Mother, running off to sleep with that—that alchemist!” He turned back toward me, crossing the space between us and again gripping my neck with his cold hand. “They didn’t care about us.” His eyes glowed with hatred.
“They did, Greg. They loved us.” My words were forced.
“But not me, dear Erik. They did not love me.” Greg tilted his head, grasping my neck harder.
“They… d—did… love… you.” I was wincing through labored breaths.
Greg exhaled, examining the nails on his other hand with leisure. “
You know, I didn’t mean for you to be there that day, but you were anyway. Too bad you didn’t die along with the rest.” He paused, clicking his tongue. “I see now that I really wished you would all die.”
“But... I didn’t. I’m alive… thanks to… M—Max,” I added.
Greg clenched his teeth and growled at me. “Max, the saint!” He laughed. “I died killing our family, Max died trying to save it. Really, I don’t see the difference. We both became angels in the end.” He let go of my neck as I fell back into my chair, gasping for air. “I did you a favor by killing them. But what favors did you do me? None! After I was gone, you did me the ultimate injustice. You allowed that slime of an alchemist to take you in!”
Gregory’s massive black wings stretched across the room, bursting from thin air like a cloud of smoke. “Our parents were naïve to think that I loved them, but now, I will drag them all to Hell. They will suffer for the way they rubbed elbows with the rich, with the magickal.” Drops of blood thudded as they hit the wood floor, oozing from his wings.
“You’re magickal,” I contended bravely.
Greg narrowed his gaze—a last warning. It didn’t matter.
I snorted. “You work with evil beings, Gregory. You have been corrupted by the demons of their world. What do you know of happiness besides that which lies under the deceit you’ve so fondly coveted?”
I could almost feel the jealousy in Greg grow. “Just because Max denies the power he feels, and the purity of our magickal race, that does not make him so holy.” He paused to pace the room. “He is an angel, but also a demon, Erik, built for carrying dead souls to the other side.” He shook his head with disgust. “Such a waste of power! And above all, I can’t believe he thinks he can re-acclimate himself and act human again!” Laughter erupted from Greg’s throat. “Love is for the weak.”
I spoke bravely. “He protects her, Gregory. Guardian angels were built to protect, not kill. It doesn’t have to be about death for him as it is for you. It is a choice he can choose to make. The side effect that girl has is something he can help her to understand.”