Fade

by Лиза Макманн

  “Thank you,” she says. She bounces on the balls of her feet. “And an added bonus,” she says.

  “Let me guess. You can see?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Just a hunch.”

  “Hey, let’s trade!”

  He grins slyly. Takes his off and hands them to her. She whips hers off and puts his on while he watches, amused.

  “Holy Moses, your eyes are terrible.”

  “No,” he says. “Yours are. My glasses are clear.”

  She takes his off and playfully pummels him in the chest. “You are such a dork! You don’t even need to wear glasses?”

  He clasps his hands around her back and holds her tight against him.

  “It was all part of the image,” he says, laughing. “I kind of got used to them. I like the look, so I kept them. Makes me look sexy, don’t you think?” he teases, and then kisses her on the top of the head.

  “You smell great,” Janie says. She wraps her arms around him and looks up. “Oh! Check this out.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the cell phone. “I have no idea how it works, but isn’t it the cutest little thing you’ve ever seen?”

  Cabel takes the phone and examines it. Thoroughly. “This phone,” he says finally. “I want this phone.”

  She laughs. “No. S’mine.”

  “Janie, I don’t think you understand. I want it.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s got photo Caller ID; Internet; video, camera, and digital recorder?!

  Holy Hannah…It’s making me warm all over.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Janie says in a sexy voice. “Wanna play with my phone, baby?”

  He looks at her, his eyes smoldering. “Hell yes, I do.” He runs his fingers through her hair, slips his hands in the back pockets of her jeans, and leans down to kiss her.

  Their glasses clink.

  “Fuck,” they whisper together, laughing.

  “I can’t stay, anyway,” she says. “Plus, I’m parked in your driveway.”

  “Wait one second, ’kay?” Cabel slips away and comes back a moment later. “Here,” he says, handing her a small box. “For you. For your birthday.”

  Janie’s lips part in surprise. She takes it. Feels really strange about opening it in front of him. She wets her lips as she examines the box and the ribbon that surrounds it. “Thank you,” she says softly.

  “Um…” He clears his throat. “The gift, see, is actually inside the box.

  The box is like an extra bonus gift. It’s how we do things here on planet Earth.”

  She smiles. “I’m still enjoying the box and the fact that you bought me a gift. You didn’t have to do that, Cabe.”

  “I just wish you’d told me it was your birthday, so I could have had it on the right day.”

  “Yeah,” she says with a sigh, “that was me, having a little pity party for myself. I should have said something. When’s yours?” She says suddenly.

  “November 25.”

  She looks up at him. Her eyes remember. “Thanks-giving weekend.”

  “Yeah. You were at the sleep study. And we weren’t exactly on speaking terms.”

  “That must have been a shitty weekend,” she says.

  He’s silent for a moment. “Open it, J.”

  She slides the ribbon off.

  Opens the box. It’s a tiny diamond pendant on a silvery chain. It sparkles in the box.

  Janie gasps.

  And bursts into tears.

  THE GREEN THE GREEN AND THE BLUES

  January 26, 2006, 9:55 a.m.

  Mr. Wang stops Janie after second hour. “Do you have a moment, Janie?”

  “Sure,” she says. Mr. Wang is dressed in Polo.

  The room clears out.

  “I just wanted to compliment you on your work so far. You seem to have a real understanding of psychology. Your essay answers on the first test were brilliant.”

  Janie grins. “Thanks.”

  “Have you ever thought of a career in psych?”

  “Oh…you know. I’ve toyed with the idea a bit. I’m not sure yet what

  I’ll go for in college.”

  “So you do have college plans?” His voice has a hint of incredulity to it. “Franklin Community, maybe?”

  Janie blinks, feeling the snub.

  Feeling poor.

  As if living on the wrong side of town means less is expected of her.

  “Well, I would,” she says, her voice taking on an innocent twang, “if’n

  I didn’t have Earl Junior on the way, and you know mamaw can’t stay alone in the trailer so good no more. I got to go find Earl Senior, so I can git me some money, know whut I mean?”

  Mr. Wang stares at her.

  She turns away when the bell rings and walks in late to chemistry.

  “Sorry,” she mouths to Mr. Durbin as she slides into place at her lab table at the back of the room. The others are working already. Janie copies down the equations from the board. She is still amazed at how well she can now see.

  She hunches over her desk and scratches the figures on a piece of notebook paper, working out the formula, checking and doublechecking her work. Mr. Durbin strolls around the room, giving hints and joking occasionally with the students as usual. She joins in like the others.

  Every now and then, she glances up to see where he is, watching his body language as he interacts with the students. He hasn’t said or done anything inappropriate that Janie’s seen since their little incident a few weeks before, and now Janie’s starting to question her judgment. Did it really happen? Or was she feeling so badly about herself that day that she imagined it?

  He really is a terrific teacher.

  And then he’s next to her at her table, checking out her work.

  “Looking good, Hannagan,” he says quietly. But he’s not looking at her formula, bubbling merrily over the burner.

  He’s looking down her shirt as she’s leaning over.

  After class he stops her on the way out the door. “Do you have a slip for me?”

  Janie is stumped. “A what?”

  “A note?”

  “For what?”

  “You were late.”

  Janie thumps her forehead. “Oh! Um…No, I don’t, but Mr. Wang kept me after class last period. He’ll vouch for me.”

  “Mr. Wang, hm?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hang out here a moment while I call him.”

  “But…”

  “I’ll write you a note for your next class, don’t worry.” He picks up the phone and dials Mr. Wang’s room.

  Mr. Wang apparently confirms that he held Janie after class. The bell rings. Mr. Wang says something else, and Mr. Durbin chuckles. “Is that so.” He listens again. “I’ll say,” he says. He gives Janie a sidelong glance. His eyes come to rest on her chest as he hangs up.

  “Okay, you’re off the hook,” he says, smiling. “So, who’s your baby daddy?”

  She grins, embarrassed. “That was a little joke,” she says, and wets her lips. “Thanks. Can you write me a note now?”

  “Sure,” he says lazily. He reaches for his pen and scribbles on a square sheet of recycled paper. He holds the note out in front of him, so she has to approach to get it. “How’s that sound?” He’s grinning.

  She takes the paper. “You want me to read this?” she says.

  He nods and scribbles on a second square of paper now. “And this is for your next teacher.”

  She reaches for it. “Oh, okay,” she says. “Uh…”

  “The first one is some information about a little chemistry party I have every semester at my house, just for the Chem. 2 students. Any chance you can whip up a flyer for me to hand out to everybody?”

  Janie looks at the paper. “Of course, I’d love to.”

  “You look like the type who would be good with computer graphics,” he says. “You know what I mean.” He wiggles his fingers. “Savvy… with electronics.”

  “It must be my geeky glasses
that gives me away,” she says smoothly.

  “The glasses are nice, Janie. Are they working out for you okay?”

  “Yeah, great. Thanks for asking.” She smiles. “I should…probably get to my next class now. Don’t you have a class this period?”

  “Nope. This is my free hour.”

  “Oh, cool. I’ve been meaning to ask you—Is there a chemistry fair or a competition that you take students to?”

  Mr. Durbin taps his chin thoughtfully. “I wasn’t planning to do it this year, because it’s all the way up in the UP at Michigan Tech, but you’re the third person to ask me about it. Are you interested in me getting a team together? We’d have to do it quickly. The fair’s next month.”

  Janie’s eyes light up. “Oh, yes,” she says. “I’d love to go!”

  “It’s a heck of a drive all the way up there. We’d have to book a hotel.

  Is that…um…feasible? I don’t think there are any scholarships available.”

  Janie smiles. “I could handle a couple hundred bucks, yeah.”

  Mr. Durbin eyes her. “I think it could be a great experience,” he says, his voice low and slow.

  She nods. “Well, cool! Let me know. And I’ll get that flyer to you soon. You want ten copies?”

  “No hurry. The party’s not until the first week of March. Ten copies would be perfect. Actually, make it twelve, in case Finch loses his, like he loses everything else. Thanks, Janie.”

  “Anything for you,” Janie says, and blushes. “I mean…you know.”

  She laughs and shakes her head, like she’s embarrassed. “Never mind.”

  He’s smiling at her chest. “See you tomorrow.”

  2:05 p.m.

  Janie sits at her table and sneaks her cell phone out of her backpack.

  She fires it up. Sends Cabel a text message to his phone. “Can you get

  Durbin’s past Chem. 2 class lists?”

  A few moments later she gets the reply. “Sure. CU@4?”

  Janie leans forward and sees him. He winks. She smiles and nods.

  3:15 p.m.

  Janie calls Captain.

  “I may have talked Durbin into taking a group to the chemistry fair. It’s next month. Way the heck up in Houghton.”

  “Excellent job, Janie. He’ll have to take a female chaperone with him.

  You should be perfectly safe.”

  “He’s hosting a party for the Chem. 2 students too. I guess he does it every year in March and in November.”

  Captain pauses. Grabs her notes. “Bingo. Call number one was March

  5. Call number two was early November. I think we’ve got something here, Janie. Good work.”

  Janie hangs up to a rush of nervous excitement. This is too weird, she thinks.

  4:00 p.m.

  At Cabel’s house Janie recounts the conversation with Durbin from memory, even though she took notes once she got to her next class.

  Cabel refrains from getting upset, like he promised.

  He has the previous semester’s list, as well as the one from last spring.

  “Smart thinking, Cabe.”

  “Tomorrow I’ll track the girls from these previous classes to see what they’re taking now.”

  “Great,” she says.

  Janie whips up a flyer for the Chem. 2 party. It’s set for Saturday night, March 4. She prints out fifteen copies. Hands two to Cabel. “One for you, one for Captain.”

  “You don’t know how much I wish I could be there.”

  “You’ll be nearby, won’t you?”

  “Hell yes.”

  She stands and gives Cabel a hug. “I’ve gotta go.”

  He looks at her longingly. “Should I be feeling badly about the fact that you haven’t stayed overnight in three weeks?”

  “How’s tomorrow night sound?”

  He smiles. “Saturday too?”

  “Yeah. You don’t have any ‘things’ to go to?”

  “Not this weekend.”

  “It’s a date.”

  “Sweet,” he says. “See you.” He pulls her toward him for a kiss, and then she’s gone, sprinting across the snow.

  6:37 p.m.

  Janie tackles the Stubin files. She knows Captain wants her to get through them. And Janie’s had them for nearly a month. But everything is so interesting, and she’s learning like crazy. How to get information from a dream. How to know what to look for in one. Miss

  Stubin could occasionally pause and pan dreams, as if she were a camera, and see the things behind her as well as in front of her. A few times Miss Stubin mentioned rewinding to see something twice. Janie hasn’t been able to do any of that yet. She’s trying, every study hall.

  Maybe she’ll try it with Cabel this weekend.

  10:06 p.m.

  Janie’s nearing the end of the last file. She rubs her temples as she reads. Her head aches. She grabs an Excedrin and a glass of water from the kitchen, and returns to her reading.

  She’s fascinated. Enthralled. Building up a list of questions for Miss

  Stubin and planning a dream visit soon.

  Finally she closes the last file and sets it aside. All that’s left are a few stray papers and a thin, green spiral notebook.

  Janie glances at the papers. They appear to be notes, scrawled in illegible handwriting that doesn’t stay between the lines. All the other files were typed. Janie’s glad she didn’t have to try to read them all like this. They must have been written late in Miss Stubin’s career, after she retired and lost her eyesight.

  Janie sets the papers aside and opens the spiral notebook.

  Reads the first line. It’s written in a controlled, sprawling hand—it’s infinitely more legible than the notes on the bed next to Janie. It looks like a book title.

  A Journey Into the Light by Martha Stubin

  There is a dedication below the title.

  This journal is dedicated to dream catchers. It’s written expressly for those who follow in my footsteps once I am gone.

  The information I have to share is made up of two things: delight and dread. If you do not want to know what waits for you, please close this journal now. Don’t turn the page.

  But if you have the stomach for it and the desire to fight against the worst of it, you may be better off knowing. Then again, it may haunt you for the rest of your life. Please consider this in all seriousness.

  What you are about to read contains much more dread than delight.

  I’m sorry to say I can’t make the decision for you. Nor can anyone else. You must do it alone. Please don’t put the responsibility on others’ shoulders. It will ruin them.

  Whatever you decide, you are in for a long, hard ride. I bid you no regrets. Think about it. Have confidence in your decision, whatever you choose.

  Good luck, friend.

  Martha Stubin, Dream Catcher

  Janie feels her stomach churning.

  She slides the notebook off her lap.

  Closes it.

  Stares at the wall, barely able to breathe. Buries her head in her hands.

  And then.

  Slowly.

  She picks up the notebook.

  Puts it in the box.

  Stacks the files on top of it.

  And hides it deep in her closet.

  3:33 a.m.

  Janie’s falling at top speed. She looks down dizzily and Mr. Durbin is there, waiting for her to land. He’s laughing evilly, arms outstretched to catch her.

  Before he can grab her, Janie swoops sideways and is sucked into

  Center Street, pulled through the air to the park bench and deposited there. Mr. Durbin is gone.

  Next to the bench, in her wheelchair, sits Martha Stubin.

  “You have questions,” Miss Stubin barks.

  Janie tries to catch her breath, alarmed. She grips the bench’s armrest.

  “What’s going on?” she cries.

  Miss Stubin’s gaze is vacant. A blood tear drips from the corner of her eye and slides slowly down
her wrinkled cheek. But all she says is, “Let’s talk about your assignment.”

  “But what about the green notebook?” Janie grows frantic.

  “There is no green notebook.”

  “But…Miss Stubin!”

  Miss Stubin turns her face toward Janie and cackles.

  Janie looks at the woman.

  And then.

  Miss Stubin transforms into Mr. Durbin. Slowly his face melts until all that remains is a hollow skull.

  Janie gasps.

  She breaks out into a cold sweat.

  And wakes up, sitting straight up in bed and screaming.

  Janie whips off her blankets and hops to her feet, turns on her light, and paces between the door and the bed, trying to calm down.

  “That wasn’t real,” Janie tries to convince herself. “That wasn’t Miss

  Stubin. It was a nightmare. It was just a nightmare. I didn’t try to go there.”

  But now she is afraid to go to sleep.

  Afraid to go back to Center Street again.

  January 27, 2006

  Janie’s mind is far away, inside the front cover of a green spiral notebook and dwelling on her nightmare. She walks down the school hallways in a daze, nearly bumping into Carrie between classes with

  Bashful and Doc.

  “Hey, Janers, wanna hang out tonight?”

  “Sure.” Janie thinks. “Um, I mean, I can’t. Sorry.”

  Carrie gives her an odd look. “You okay? You’re not gonna keel over, are you?”

  Janie shakes the cobwebs from her head and grins. “Sorry. No, I’m fine. I’ve just got my mind on other shit. Colleges and stuff. I’ve got a bunch of junk to fill out, the house is a mess, and I’m working on a nasty headache already today.”

  “Okay,” Carrie says. “I just thought you might like the latest gossip.”

  She looks crestfallen. Of course, lately, Carrie only wants to hang out with Janie if Stu is playing poker. Janie doesn’t mind being called upon only when Carrie’s first choice is busy, though. She keeps busy enough without Carrie hanging around all the time.

  “What about Melinda?”

  “Thanks,” Carrie says sarcastically, “but you don’t need to set up a playdate for me. I can find my own things to do. I’ll catch you later.”

  Janie blinks. “Whatever,” she says under her breath. And walks into

  Mr. Wang’s room. He’s watching her walk in as he pretends to look at a paper in his hands. She smiles automatically. When he doesn’t smile or look away, she winks.