by S. L. Naeole
Like alphabets.
“Second thoughts about the helmet?”
“No. I don’t know if I should go to that party tomorrow.”
“Why not?” Mom had a cup of coffee in her hands, the smell of it cutting through the salt air like a welcomed knife.
“The only person who’s gonna want me there is Audrey. It’s been a month and she’s the only one who talks to me. And I don’t know any of her friends. But…I guess that’s my fault, since I’ve only ever gone to Audrey’s.”
“See? It’s your fault your social life stinks.”
I laughed. “Mom!”
“Well, at least Liam’s being a lot nicer to you,” she laughed along with me.
“Yeah, sure, if by nice you mean not trying to kill me by staring,” I snorted which led Mom into a fit of coughing and nervous laughter.
Liam hadn’t spoken a single word to me since Audrey invited me to their party, but he did stare. He stared at me so much, I finally figured out that he wasn’t really staring at me but through me. He hated me so much that he was acting like I wasn’t even there.
That wasn’t anything new. The people of the rock weren’t any different from anyone else I’d met. They didn’t know me, and I hadn’t made any real attempts to know them, so they pretended I wasn’t anyone to know. It made it easier, I guess. Besides, Audrey did all the dirty work of having to talk to me, and everyone else got off easy by hearing about it through the small town telephone.
Or, as Mom liked to call it, “Gossip”.
“Fallon, if you want to go to this party, go. Audrey wants you there. It doesn’t matter if no one else does. You’re not going for them. It would really disappoint her if you didn’t show up, and if you’re worried about what people think about you now, just wait until they hear that you stood Audrey up at her own birthday party.”
“I’m not worried about what everyone else thinks, but gee, thanks, Mom. That just makes things so much easier,” I said sarcastically.
***
I left Mom in town with the truck and our shopping bags so she could pick up some groceries. My bike had been in the bed so I just rode that home. I stopped at the Wisteria to see if Audrey might be there; I was still struggling with whether or not I’d go to the party and I thought maybe seeing her would help me decide. When Mrs. Simon said that Audrey was at Brenda’s, I turned around and left faster than I think my bike wanted to go.
The ride home was always short. It wouldn’t take more than ten minutes from any starting point and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to get home that fast, so I rode my bike as slowly as I could past the last inn and toward the cliff houses and fields of grass hid secret beaches.
I thought of what Mom said, about going to the party for Audrey and not for anyone else. I’d never given two farts about what other people thought before, so why was this any different? The answer was simple, really. The truth wasn’t that I was worried about what Audrey’s friends thought. The truth was that I didn’t want to be in the same room as Liam Mace.
I could deal with Audrey’s friends. If they were anything like the Jameson kid, I might have a good time. But Liam…it might have been easy for him to pretend that I wasn’t there, but it wasn’t that easy for me. I wanted to blame it on the fact that I hadn’t told him off, or maybe even punched him in the neck like I’d wanted to the first day we’d met. Sometimes I dreamt that I had, and I’d wake up feeling accomplished.
If I only had those kinds of dreams then maybe I wouldn’t feel so confused. But I didn’t have only those kinds of dreams. Instead, I had dreams where I found myself locked in a closet with him while everyone outside recited the alphabet. Those dreams I had a lot, and I remembered them all so vividly that they made me dread seeing him again. It might have been stupid, but I was afraid that he’d look at me and see those dreams and then laugh.
For no good reason, it hurt to imagine that.
“Oh, stupid, stupid, stupid,” I muttered to myself, knocking my helmet with my fist. The bike was moving so slowly that it wobbled when I did that and I struggled to bring it steady again. Embarrassed, I turned my head to look behind me to see if anyone had been following and had seen. But no one was behind me. No one human.
My throat tightened up as I tried desperately to swallow back a yelp of fear. A large, golden cat was behind me, running on huge paws, its long, thick tail bouncing up and down with each stride. It made no sound, but I could see its amber eyes, and I could tell that it was hungry.
“Oh God.”
My hand turned the throttle on the handlebars and the bike spit out dirt and debris behind me as I sped forward. Grass as tall as I was flew past me like a wall of yellow fire, and I tried not to look behind me but found it impossible. I turned my head and shouted, frightened beyond anything I’d ever felt before when I saw that the cat was closer, and much bigger.
I could hear it now, its paws on the rough pavement, its claws scraping against rock and dirt and whatever else was between us as it tried just as desperately to get to me as I tried to get away. Each time I turned to look and see if I was getting ahead, the cat was closer.
My eyes darted ahead. I knew how much further I had left to go, and I knew that even a minute more of riding and the cat would pounce. I turned my head one last time and felt a spasm of fear and instantaneous relief when a black blur flew from one side of the road to the other, swallowing the golden cat in its shadow.
Common sense told me to keep going, to keep on riding until I was home and safe behind doors and walls and surrounded by sharp, pointy things.
Instead, curiosity made me slow down. Against the rumbling stutter of the dirt bike, I could hear snarls and snapping jaws. A roar, the sound that shouldn’t exist anywhere near people – especially me – rose out of the grass behind me and then…nothing.
Slowly, I pushed the bike backwards. On the road, I could see deep gouges digging into the asphalt, and a claw, bloody and ragged at its base, was lying next to them. I lifted my leg to climb off the bike and pick the claw up when a rumble that didn’t come from the engine filled my ears. I turned to the grass and saw a pair of eyes staring back at me from a face so black and so large it could have been a hole in the middle of the air.
The cat, black and as tall as I was standing, padded toward me, a noticeable limp coming from its hind leg on its right side. Its eyes were the color of dying grass, green at the core, but golden and dark at the edges. Its nose was black and wet, and as it reached me, its mouth opened curiously, one side pulling up tighter than the other to reveal sharp, white teeth longer than my fingers. A tongue, thick and red and long curled out to lap my cheek. I nearly stumbled off the bike, the feeling of the rough, hot tongue against my skin sending prickles down my arms and legs.
I couldn’t scream. I might have forgotten how. The wet nose nudged against my ear, and I felt hot air puff through my hair microseconds before I felt my hair pull toward the cat’s face as it inhaled, deep and long. I realized as my hands, quaking with fear, reached carefully to touch the massive head, that the rumbling I’d heard earlier was purring.
The moment my fingers grazed the cat’s ear, it was gone, taking off back into the grass and leaving me shaking on my bike, my neck wet, my hair sticky and clinging to my face. Like some kind of zombie, I rode my bike home, unsure if any of it had actually happened or if seasickness could cause hallucinations.
Dad was sitting out in the tiny shop that stood a dozen yards away from the house; his head was covered in a welding mask, the white sparks of heat flying in front of his face like fireworks. He saw me and lowered his torch, using his free hand to flip up his helmet so I could see him, his golden eyes filled with amusement to see me. “Hey, kitten. Did you bankrupt me already? Did your mother lay down the law with the skirt lengths? I’m fine with it being ankle length, but no shorter.”
“Th…there…there was…” I couldn’t speak. The bike fell as I climbed off, and I looked at my hands. I hadn’t felt them at all during the short ride home, but now, t
hey were shaking so violently that the motions moved up my arms and vibrated through the rest of my body.
“Fallon?” Dad’s worried voice sounded tinny in my ears. “What happened?”
I took several deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling the smell of metal and dirt, and also the dried saliva on my face. “There was cat. A big, black cat on the road.”
Like a flash of lightning, I saw the panic in Dad’s eyes. It was real. I knew it was real. But then it was gone and he was laughing. “A cat? Really, Fallon? You’ve been out in the sun too long, haven’t you?”
I gasped. “There are cats here. You said so!”
“Yes. And I also said they don’t bother people. Now, go and get washed up. You’ve got something in your hair.” Dad pushed his visor down and sparked up his torch again, disappearing behind the bright, white light.
I left my bike and walked into the house. The bathroom window let in enough light to help me see the redness on my cheek and the way my hair stuck together in clumps by my ear. “It really did happen,” I said to my reflection, touching my skin and feeling the crunchiness in my hair.
And then I giggled. “Holy crap, I’ve gotta tell Audrey!”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LIAM
There was so much anger around me I could almost grip it in my hands like I did the sand beneath me. We were at the maze, the sky clear, the water crisp and clean and cool. Jameson, Brenda, Audrey, and I were staring each other down, the attack on Fallon standing between the four of us like a mirror reflecting our own stupidity.
“Are you really that dumb? Are you freaking blind? What do you think will happen if you kill her, huh?” I was furious, but what bothered me the most was that I didn’t know what made me angrier the most: the fact that Jameson and Brenda could be so stupid, or that Fallon being hurt terrified me.
The image of Fallon being chased down by a cat, the fear in her eyes, sat like a scar in my mind. It would not leave me and the more I focused on it, the worse it became. I could feel the rage turning physical, the heat in my blood ready to bubble at any moment and I hated it…and her.
“What the hell do you think is gonna happen?” Brenda’s anger and hatred was just as potent. She was rubbing Jameson’s arm, the bruises there from my attack on him violently purple and red.
She looked beautiful, mad. It used to be that I’d say something to piss her off just so I could see her eyes glitter with anger. And making up was always awesome. But now, right now, beautiful wasn’t enough to make me forget what happened or how it made me feel.
Watching Jameson run after Fallon, seeing the fear in her eyes as she realized that she was going to die had affected me more than it should have. I’d seen the life drain out of dozens of eyes, watched mouths freeze open in terror, and seen skin torn to shreds without a freaking spark of sympathy. I enjoyed it. I looked forward to it.
But despite everything I’d said about her, despite how much I hated the feelings I had whenever I saw her or heard her name, I didn’t want that to happen to Fallon.
“God, it’s so damn simple! You know the rule; it’s not like there’s more than one! No human dies on the rock. Not a single, freaking one! Not even in an accident. If even one person dies here, the trogs would stop coming and then we’d have to go to them for work. Do you want your mom working in some trog’s salon, making less than any of the other stylists because they know that she’s different and they have a choice of who to go to?
“And what about you, Jameson? Do you think your dad wants to work in someone else’s factory, making crates for someone else instead of for his own kind?”
Jameson grunted. “My dad’s crates can be sold anywhere.”
“But they’re not, are they? They’re only being sold here because we’re the only ones buying them,” Audrey spoke up. “How will he pay the bills if no one here has any money to buy his crates?”
Brenda, frustrated, shoved Jameson away. “Oh, who cares? So we won’t have tons of cash. Big deal; it’s not like we’re freaking loaded right now anyway. It’s not like we’re gonna starve to death…especially if we don’t like our bosses.”
She laughed at that last part, and Jameson, lying sprawled on the ground, laughed with her. “She’s got a point, man. Your dad works your ass and his to the freaking bone to catch fish for those damn trogs during the summer season, and then he’s off for weeks setting and picking up pods for the lobsters to sell to the trogs on the mainland, and for what? How has it made any of your lives better? Has it helped Audrey any?”
“Oh shut-up, Jameson,” Audrey snapped. “Don’t act like you give a damn about what happens to me.”
“I do care about you, Audrey,” Jameson insisted, sitting up and grabbing her knees, knowing she could not feel his touch.
“Give me a break. You just attacked my friend.”
“She’s a trog!”
“She’s. My. Friend. She’s been a better friend to me this past month than you have ever, that’s for sure.”
Jameson looked hurt. “What? I’ve been helping take care of you since…since forever! What the hell, Aud? You’ve known her for what, a minute? I’ve been taking care of you since you were what, six? Seven? The hell if she’s been a better friend!”
“I don’t want my friends to take care of me, Jameson. Jeez! You’re such an idiot! I’ve been taking care of you, Liam, Dad, and hell, even Brenda for the past four years, cooking and cleaning for you. I’ve even washed your funky underwear when you’ve stayed over and borrowed Liam’s clothes, and I think you and I both know who really needs someone to take care of them.”
She paused, her mouth set in a thin line as realization visibly hit her. “And yeah, Fallon has been a better friend. I’ve never had to question her motives and I’ve never doubted them. She’s honest with me, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for you! You couldn’t even tell me that the real reason you won’t go out with me is because you know I won’t be able to give you any kids. Instead, you used being friends with Liam as your excuse. Well, screw you, your future wife, and your future kids.”
Sputtering, Jameson looked at Audrey and then at me before looking at the ground, too embarrassed and ashamed by her accusations.
Audrey turned to look at me, blame sitting clearly in her eyes. “This is your fault. You could have stopped this by being nice to her. I told you, I begged you. She’s my friend, the only one who chose to be my friend all on her own and not because I’m part of some messed up gene pool, and now she’s probably so scared she won’t come to our party. She probably won’t want to leave home, period.”
The splashing sound of a rock hitting the water was followed by a roar from an irate Brenda. She was glaring at me, her anger matching Audrey’s in intensity. “She was invited? When the hell did this happen? Why? And why am I only finding out about it now? Did you invite her? Did you invite her to the party?”
“It happened a couple of weeks ago. And I invited her to my party, not Liam’s. Besides, it’s none of your business who I invite or why. And why are you so pissed off, Brenda?” Audrey demanded to know. “You’ve never even met her. Hell, no one wants to meet her-”
“Of course no one wants to meet her. She’s human, Audrey.” Brenda’s words were slightly slurred, her lips and teeth growing in her face as the anger took over. “That’s the difference between humans and Panthus. We don’t become friends with our food.”
“Or invite them to our birthday parties,” Jameson added, taking the opportunity given to him. “Yo, Brenda…it’s time to shave.” He tapped his upper lip and then tipped his chin up at her, laughing when the hair there thickened, the orange hair popping through like grass.
Her slurred speech turned into growls, and I grabbed her before she could claw at Jameson’s face. “Whoa, whoa Bren,” I said in as soothing a voice as I could. “There are enough scarred people on this island right now. And…I think Jameson’s already been beat up enough.”
“Yeah, by you, you jackass,” Jameson
laughed before letting out a groan. “Oh, damn…I think you bruised a rib…or four. Well, at least I got you good. How’s that foot feeling?”
Brenda’s transformation completed in my arms and she became far too big to contain. As she stalked to the water’s edge, I bent down to grab Jameson, being careful not to hurt him any more than I already had and trying not to put too much weight on my right foot. My second toe had finally stopped bleeding, but the nail that had been there was gone, lost on the road somewhere. “My foot’s just fine. And you deserved it, you ass. She was just going home.”
“How do you know that?” Brenda asked in her growls.
“The same way everyone does,” Audrey said with a snort. “Because that’s where she lives. She lives by the junkyard. She had just gotten off the ferry with her mom. She came looking for me first but I was with you. Grans told me so.”
Brenda then asked where I was, and how I knew what Jameson was about to do. I looked at her and then at him, unsure of what to say. How do I explain that I’d seen her leave Grans’ restaurant and followed her? The assumptions would fly like sea spray and everything would get covered in a crust of disbelief and lies….especially my own.
Because I couldn’t admit that as hard as I had tried to ignore her, to pretend that she wasn’t there, I couldn’t. She seemed to be everywhere, even if she never went anywhere. If I knew she wasn’t around, I’d still feel her there, like some kind of ghost haunting me. Even in my sleep, she was there, her brown eyes glaring at me, daring me to do it, daring to chase her down and break her neck…
Only when I caught her, I didn’t kill her. It wasn’t her blood that I tasted. It wasn’t her scream of terror that I heard. She wasn’t running from me and she wasn’t afraid either. She was bold and fearless and she wanted me as much as I-
The pain of something hitting my head snapped me out of my thoughts.
“Jesus Christ, what the hell are you on, Liam?” Brenda was standing in the water, her torn clothes still lying on the sand, her body hidden beneath cold, blue-gray water.