by K J Bell
Pointing out a small table in the middle of the room, the teacher began to talk. A bowl of fruit was centered on the table. Our assignment was to draw the outline of the fruit. We would learn how to shade it tomorrow. Putting my pencil to the paper, I failed to actually draw anything as my frustration grew over Brent not acknowledging me. He had obviously had time to think about my family, deciding he would prefer not to be friends. The thought made me sick and angry at the same time, riling my emotions.
A boy darted in the door holding a hall pass. His dark brown hair was messy as though he just woke up, skipping the brush, hurrying out the door, late for school. I assumed his rush to school was also the reason for his wrinkled clothing. He smiled at Mrs. Jenkins, handing her his pass.
“Nice of you to join us, Brody,” Mrs. Jenkins said before shooing him to his seat.
I wondered if this was the same Brody that Layken mentioned at lunch. He walked past me, flashing a mouth full of braces when he smiled. Brody took a seat next to Brent in the back of the room. My eyes followed Brody and I glimpsed at Brent. He instantly turned away when we made eye contact. Seriously, what was his problem?
Hiding behind the curtain of hair that formed over my ears, I turned several times to look at Brent, hoping he would respond. He didn’t and I slunk further down in my chair. He hadn’t looked at me once, not once. The entire class passed and Brent sat stone-faced as though I didn’t exist. The bell startled me, causing me to jump. My pencil rolled to the floor. Class was over and I hadn’t drawn so much as a line on my paper. Mrs. Jenkins crossed in front of my table, frowning at my obvious lack of effort.
“Drawing invisible fruit, Ms. Blake?” she asked. The class burst into laughter. I spun in my chair to see Brent was laughing too. Catching my stare he smiled dolefully, averting his eyes to break my gaze. What was with him today?
As soon as the bell rang, I tossed my things in my backpack and ran from the class –rudely – not even addressing Layken when she said goodbye. I would apologize later. I was too angry. People in this town were just awful, spreading rumors about my family and about me. How was it people could listen to silly gossip about other people, and then turn that into hateful, hurtful, feelings towards those people they’ve never even bothered to get to know. Were we not a more civilized society, far from pack animals that have a need to claim a place by exposing the others weaknesses?
Yesterday, Brent walked me to all of my afternoon classes. Today he could not even say hello. Tears stung my eyes at the realization that I only had myself to blame for mistaking what I was feeling. After history, I was fed up with being ignored and decided to confront him. As we exited the class, I approached him charily.
“Can we talk for a minute, please?” I pleaded, forcing back tears, not wanting to show him how much he was getting to me. I didn’t want him to know the effect he had on me.
“Sorry, I can’t,” he replied instantly. His short and downright rude response had my blood boiling.
“You can’t or you won’t?” I echoed bitterly.
“What do you want from me, Claire?” he asked casually, shrugging his shoulders, displaying his complete lack of interest.
“Did I do something to upset you?” I inquired, suddenly regretting my decision to confront him. I felt so rejected. How had I not seen the two of us had lived two completely different truths yesterday? My day had been wrapped up in him like a love sick teenager. His had been manipulating that knowledge to help his grades, and when I hadn’t jumped at the opportunity to do so, he was done with me. I liked my version of the day better, but apparently it had been a lie.
“You know what, Brent, never mind. Obviously you aren’t anything like I thought you were,” I stressed sharply. My anger kept me grounded to the spot in front of him, begging him to offer me something – anything – to explain his mood.
“Whatever,” he spat with fiery indignation in his eyes, before leaving me standing in my own personal pity puddle. I wanted to drown in it.
Thankfully, I was too angry to cry and the rest of the day flew by. I went to my locker after class and could feel him behind me. Turning to see him talking to Riley, Brent shot a glance my way but then bowed his head and turned away. Riley smiled at me and waved. I returned the gesture and headed for the parking lot determined not to think about him.
CHAPTER 5
“Love is like a friendship caught on fire. In the beginning a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable.” – Bruce Lee
Sitting in the driveway at my aunt’s house for over an hour, I questioned every conversation I had with Brent, why I felt so drawn to him. His behavior today made it clear that he was not interested in me at all. No matter how hard I tried, I refused to accept that. The way he looked at me or smiled while I spoke, I was sure he liked me. So, why was he so cross with me today? I wanted to believe he was just a shallow teenager who didn’t want to associate with me so as not to damage his precious reputation. But then why defend me with Logan? He had been completely possessive of me with Logan. Pieces to yet another puzzle in my life were definitely not fitting together.
Something tightened in my chest when I realized, this was exactly the reason I had never gotten close to anyone. I broke my own rule, allowing myself to feel for this boy and now I was in too deep to turn those feelings off.
Staying in the car for several more minutes, I wiped away the first – of what I was positive would be many – tears over this boy, and pulled myself together. Maggie didn’t need to see me this way, especially over something so pathetically teenage. She had enough to stress about with me still grieving my parents – my parents, who should be here – dammit. If they were here, none of this would have happened because we would still be in San Diego. I would be on the beach doing homework, warding off an angry seagull trying to steal a chip from my hand. I wouldn’t be here feeling abandoned and ashamed. I wouldn’t be here thinking about Logan. I wouldn’t be here thinking about some stupid boy named Brent that I had deluded myself into thinking had feelings for me. Maybe I should talk to Maggie. I needed someone to help me sort this out and she was a great listener. Blinking my sad thoughts away, I opened the car door and exited.
Leaves swirled around the entry way as I approached the house. Looking like miniature tornadoes, the movement matched the feelings in my heart, erratic and uncontrolled. I paused with my hand on the knob, holding back my desire to get back in the car and find Brent, and force him to explain himself.
Finally deciding that confronting Brent was a bad idea, I went inside calling for Maggie, and then I remembered her note said she would be home late. The house seemed so empty and was eerily quiet. Setting my bag down in the hall, I strolled into the kitchen for a snack. Wind rushed across my face sending chills down my spine. The quiet in the house combined with the soft breeze was alarming. Figuring Maggie must have left the windows open, I went to close them, but they were latched shut. I got a sick feeling in my gut, today’s lunch churning. I was being watched. I felt it again, just as I had on the drive to school yesterday.
Rays of light looking like bright iridescent strings appeared around me like a prism, encapsulating my body. I was frozen, unable to move my limbs, looking like a scarecrow in the middle of my aunt’s kitchen. The strings were terrifying, yet completely mesmerizing at the same time. They were beautiful. It was the same type of hypnosis I got from lying in front of the fire place watching the magenta and orange flames dance around gracefully.
My mind started swirling as visions of my life in chronological order moved through my brain like an old fashioned movie strip. I felt each emotion attaching to a memory and it was too much to take. I tried to focus my thoughts, pushing hard towards the word stop, empowering my body to push away the strings. A crystal bubble appeared as though I willed it to and stretched out around me. The moving picture in my head ceased and I saw the strings tr
ying to penetrate the glass encasement unsuccessfully. It took all of my fortitude to keep the bubble around me. My breathing was ragged and I felt moisture on my top lip just as a drop of blood fell from my nose to the floor. The windows rattled and I heard a noise from the living room. The door slammed shut. I tried to yell for help, but shook wordlessly.
“Claire!” Brent called frantically. I still couldn’t find my voice as though my vocal cords had been knotted together, restricting all vibration needed for sound.
Brent entered the kitchen and I saw the look of astonishment on his face, giving way to horror, but only briefly. His expression transitioned to someone in control – the ring leader in a circus prepared to make the lions succumb to his whims. He reached a hand out in front of him and inhaled sharply, drawing the strings into his hand, absorbing them until they disappeared into his skin. I collapsed in exhaustion and the bubble vanished.
Brent’s strong arms were under me just before I reached the floor. He brushed my hair from my face and pulled a dish towel from the stove wiping the blood gently from below my nose.
“Claire, are you okay, can you talk?” he asked, appearing distraught. I was still too weak for words. Feeling safe in his arms, I buried my head in his chest.
Lifting my head from his chest, I thought I was in shock. Brent put his hands on both sides of my face, applying pressure on my cheeks so I had no choice but to look at him. Staring into his eyes, my body finally began to relax.
“Are you okay?” he asked again, softly this time, keeping his hands on my face, his blue irises burning into me. We were so close that our noses practically touched and I felt his breath on my skin.
“I’m fine,” I whispered calmly.
Waiting for him to release me, I rummaged for answers in his eyes as they assessed me carefully. He licked his lips. My desire to have him was too powerful to ignore a second longer. I put my mouth on his, begging for entry. The moment my lips met his, I belonged to him. His lips were soft and warm. Wrapping my fingers through his hair, I pulled his face closer pleading for him to kiss me back. He hesitated at first, but then complied, his lips parting. Our tongues swept against each other’s. My body was on fire, like a charge of electricity moving through me just below the skin. I had never kissed a boy before. It was amazing – better than cotton candy at the carnival, slowly unwinding each sugary strand, the sweetness melting into your mouth, dissolving to syrup on your tongue. Yes, so much better than that. He ran his hands to the back of my neck, dragging them firmly down to the small of my back, pulling me closer, a groan escaping his throat. Gripping my shoulders, he pushed me back, releasing his kiss.
“Wait, Claire. Stop. We can’t.”
Disappointment pinged deep in my gut. I felt the sting behind my eyes before the tears began to flow.
“Sorry. I…I…I’m sorry. I thought that you wanted to,” I cried uncontrollably.
“I do, I just…” he hesitated. “Claire, we shouldn’t be together or… look, we can’t be together, not like that.” His mouth was turned down and I didn’t understand his words. “Can’t” implied that we didn’t have a choice in the matter.
“We can’t?” I questioned.
“No,” he snapped, pacing the floor in front of me. His jaw was so tight I heard his teeth grinding. Halting mid-step, he scowled at me.
His lips set firmly showed me he was holding something back and it riled me.
“Why not,” I demanded.
“Because it’s wrong,” he bellowed, raking his hands through his hair again and sucking in a loud breath.
Throwing my hands up in frustration, I screamed back at him. “What the hell does that even mean, Brent? How is it wrong?”
He stood up and punched the wall behind him causing the dry wall to dimple, a low savage growl escaping his throat.
Had I heard him right? What did he mean? Why was he so angry? I was so confused. He had kissed me back with an equal amount of desperation – a clinging to the end of a rope kind of need – yet, he let go, sending us falling. Why?
“It just is, Claire. We can’t talk about this right now. We have to get out of here,” he said softly, masking his agitation. Fear came rushing back to me. I was so caught up in my feelings for him, I had yet to process what happened.
“What the hell happened here, Brent? What were those things? How did I….how did you…oh my God, Maggie…where is she?”
“Maggie’s okay, Claire, but we have to leave…now.” His emphasis on the word now was sharp, letting me know that he was in control, just as he had been with the strings and I knew it was best to abide.
“Okay but…,”
“Look,” Brent interrupted. “I know you have a lot of questions and I’ll answer them once I’m sure you’re safe,” he promised.
“Where are we going to go?” I asked.
Pressing his fingertips firmly into his temples, he traced a few small circles before answering. “Your family has a place up in Jasper Beach, Maine. We should be safe there. We’ll get a car from the garage. They’ll be able to track us if we take the Buick or my truck. We’ll drive the coast and get there late tonight.”
“What, what garage? There is no garage here,” I asked confused.
Brent explained that up the road was a large garage my grandfather built, telling me there were several vehicles in it. I had seen it. I didn’t know it was ours or that we had a house in Maine.
Brent came with me to my room and got a bag from the closet. He tossed it on the bed, telling me to pack what I needed for a few days and leave the rest behind. I began throwing things into the bag, packing the first clothing I came across. I grabbed the picture of my parents on the dresser, clutched it to my chest, and tossed it in the bag.
Zipping up my bag, I thought about how I was leaving again – packing up instantly – running – as I had always done. Only this time it really was for my protection. Replaying what happened in my head, I tried to understand. I glanced at Brent for answers, knowing he wouldn’t give them to me until we were safe.
“How did you know?” I asked, wiping my tear-stained cheeks on the sleeve of my sweatshirt.
His mouth tightened, pulling his jaw forward, his expression pained as though recalling something extremely uncomfortable.
“I just did, Claire. We really have to go. Do you have everything you need?” he asked, beckoning towards the door.
Picking up my bag from the bed, I considered arguing and demanding that he tell me, but his demeanor showed he would not reveal anything else.
“I’m ready,” I said, fighting back a new stream of tears that had started to wet my eyes.
Brent took the bag from my hand, putting it over his shoulder. With his free hand, he intertwined his fingers with mine. Kissing me softly on the forehead, he whispered, “You’re safe with me, Claire.”
Why did he always do things like that if he didn’t want to be with me? It was one of the things I would request answers to down the road. We did need to leave my aunt’s house. I understood that, but I wouldn’t allow him to evade my questions much longer.
The sun was setting, sinking slowly behind the trees. I hoped we would make it to the garage before it was dark. Stomping through the woods hurriedly, I heard twigs snapping under our feet as they crunched into the ground. Up ahead, I saw the large garage I passed a thousand times, softly lit by a single lamp post in the front. I always assumed it belonged to someone else. The structure was huge and appeared to be a barn from the road. It was built from wide cherry wood planks and was trimmed in red. A large rooster weathervane topped the high pitch of the roof.
We approached the back of the garage slowly. My nerves were switched on as darkness set in and I really wished I had grabbed a flashlight. The woods terrified me in the daylight much less in the dark. A squirrel shot out from the side wall scaring the hell out of me. My heart pumped rapidly and I almost threw myself into Brent’s arms. After everything that happened at the house, I was strung way too tight for rodent encount
ers. Brent chuckled, squeezing my hand reassuringly.
Standing in front of four large garage doors, Brent approached a small box. Opening it, he punched a series of numbers on a keypad and closed the box. The doors opened, whining as they rose. The strong scent of pine entered my nostrils making me feel nauseous.
“What is it with Maggie and pine? It’s so gross,” I said squeamishly, scrunching up my face and rolling my shoulders towards my chest.
Brent laughed at my obvious disgust.
“It acts like a deterrent for those strings at the house. They can’t come to you in public, so pine masks your scent in private helping to keep them away,” he informed me while tugging on a chain that hung from the ceiling. The room lit up.
The sarcasm in my tone was intentional. “Yeah, well, I don’t think it’s working too well.”
“Claire, it’s just a deterrent, like bug spray. You can spray your entire body with the stuff and a mosquito will find the one spot you missed and bite you,” he explained.
Considering his words for a moment, I recalled tossing that silly pine air freshener and Maggie’s response when I did. “I took the air freshener out of Maggie’s car. My missed spot, right?”
“Maggie called me that morning to tell me. When I finally found you in the parking lot, they were about to strike and, well, you know how I handled that,” he smiled, placing his hand on the lower half of my back, guiding me through the doors. My body responded to his touch, sending shivers down my spine.
“Yeah, well, I think I liked it better when I thought you were just clumsy,” I teased, stepping into the dimly lit garage.
He chuckled jovially, “Oh, I was the clumsy one, huh?”
I shrugged, turning my head so he wouldn’t see the scarlet swirls on my pale cheeks.