Shadow Eyes

by Dusty Crabtree

  “Patrick?”

  He looked me in the eyes, and it pained me to meet them as I could practically feel the torrid emotions pouring out through his vibrant green irises.

  “I want to know why.” That was all I could manage. But it was all I really needed to know.

  Patrick opened his mouth and then closed it again. It was clear he wanted to answer my question but wasn’t sure how or if he could, as if he were afraid of the consequences.

  “I’m so sorr…” He choked on the last word as a segment of his fierce shadow slithered across his throat. To any normal person, it would have sounded like Patrick’s throat simply became dry mid-sentence. Unfortunately, I knew better.

  Determined, he tried again. “I’m not who you…” This time his sentence ended with a terrible, muffled moan. The segment of shadow surrounding his throat had raced up his face to smother his mouth, making it impossible for him to speak.

  He rushed to me, desperately reaching for my hand, and I instinctively raised mine to meet his, my heart pounding with what could only be described as hopeful anxiety. But the moment our hands touched, his shadow swelled at one corner, pouring down like a harsh wave of turbulent sea, and ripped Patrick’s hand from mine.

  If possible, a new wave of torment seized his face as he gazed at me apologetically. He was now completely encompassed by the furious, raging shadow. He backed away slowly, his eyes still locked on mine, and then jerked his head away in defeat and darted down the hall.

  Lunch, fourth hour, fifth hour…I still wasn’t over it. I was so distraught about my short confrontation with Patrick and his shadow that I almost claimed sickness so I could go home. It wouldn’t have been far from the truth.

  Besides, sixth hour wasn’t going to get any better. Less painful, but just as uncomfortable. We had received a new seating chart a few weeks ago that separated Josh and Nicole from me, but Josh was still within viewing distance across the room to my right. I couldn’t help but notice his black left eye and the way he kept glancing over at me in a brooding, protective way. The one time I glanced back at Nicole, she just gave me a weak, awkward smile and pretended to be very busy with her notes.

  I hadn’t talked to Josh since the party, but from what Nicole had told me, it appeared he had kept his assumptions about what happened with Patrick and me a secret. I wasn’t sure why he hadn’t ratted him out to everyone, but I was deeply appreciative. I wanted to talk to him to find out and to see if he had any intentions of saying anything in the future. I also knew how that would make me look. Josh had stood up for me, even though we weren’t together anymore. I didn’t want him to think I wasn’t grateful.

  Of course, I should have known I wouldn’t have to be the one to bring it up. Right after class as I skipped out just ahead of Josh, he called for me. I stopped, turned around, and lifted my eyes to meet his in an ironic role reversal from earlier with Patrick.

  I tried hard to look at him without focusing on the dark bruise surrounding his left eye, but it was impossible. The more I stared at it, the more I was carried back to that night I had no wish of revisiting. I shifted my view to the floor and waited for his voice to pierce through the confusion in my mind.

  “Iris?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wanted to talk to you about Friday night.”

  I sighed and raised my head again. There was no hiding from this now.

  “I’m sure you know by now that I didn’t really say anything to anybody. I mean, I had to explain my black eye to Tyler, Nicole, and Sam, but I didn’t get specific.” He shuffled his feet. He seemed uncomfortable at the mention of his eye as embarrassment and frustration flustered his face.

  “Thank you.” I cut in. He hesitated and eyed me suspiciously, obviously trying to infer whether my gratitude was for him defending me or for not tattling on Patrick.

  “Thanks for sticking up for me like you did,” I clarified. “It really meant a lot to me.”

  My sincere smile apparently sparked some confidence and boldness in Josh, because his lips spread into one of those breathtaking, sweet smiles I hadn’t seen in a while. He slowly closed the distance between us and gazed at me the way he used to when things were different. I began to question why we broke up in the first place.

  He reached out for my hands and I surrendered them to him, my eyes still locked on his. His hands were warm to the touch and felt so comfortable and familiar. They were inviting without demanding anything in return.

  “You mean a lot to me,” he confided. His face was a foot from mine and his warm, soft breath brushed against my face. I closed my eyes to keep from getting dizzy.

  “I would do it again in a heartbeat if he…if he ever tried anything again.” Josh’s tone sharpened at the word “he,” and his grasp on my hands tightened, propelling me out of my reminiscent trance. He pressed his lips together, looking over me into the crowded hallway as if he were searching for him.

  I remembered the pitiful, remorseful Patrick from just hours earlier. As much as I appreciated Josh coming to my defense Friday night, I didn’t want Patrick to suffer anything else now. He was being punished enough. I wanted to make sure Josh knew that…only, I wasn’t sure how to tell him.

  “Josh?” His eyes returned to me. “I know it’s going to sound crazy. But I think Patrick is torturing himself enough right now over what happened.” I hoped he understood my implied request to remain quiet about it.

  He released my hands, sighed, and crossed his arms. “Yeah, I’m sure he’s real torn up inside,” he said cynically.

  I ignored his comment. “Besides, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about him messing with me anymore.”

  “Oh? Why is that?” he asked bitterly.

  Because that night it didn’t seem like he wanted to go through with it. Because he acted relieved when Kyra caught him. Because his blatant agony and pain might drive him to his death. Because an enormous, cruel shadow is practically holding him hostage and won’t let him even touch or talk to me.

  “I just…have a feeling,” I muttered lamely.

  Josh let out another heavy sigh and flashed an irritated look toward the ceiling. “So I guess that means you don’t want me to say anything to anybody.”

  “I don’t think it’s necessary.” With my face bent to the ground, my meek voice was barely audible over the flood of kids scrambling to leave for the day.

  “You know, Iris…” he began, finally turning to me with resentment tarnishing his handsome face.

  I reluctantly met his glare, dreading the words I was about to hear.

  “I didn’t say anything to anybody at first because I figured that was your business, and I didn’t know the whole story yet. I guess I won’t ever know the whole story, since you don’t seem to want to tell me. I just…I thought you were smarter than covering for some jerk.”

  The animosity had left his eyes and was replaced by sincere concern and affection. I felt like garbage, both for feeling the way I still did for Patrick and for making Josh feel the way he did now.

  “Iris, I know you broke up with me because things were moving too fast. But it wasn’t just about the physical with you. I honestly cared about you. I still do.” He took both my hands again and pleaded with his intense blue eyes. For what? A second chance? I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t handle it anymore.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered as I pried my hands from his and twisted away to take off toward the exit. Slamming the metal bar to the door, I pushed it open and was punished by the frigid wind biting my face.

  Chapter 21

  EVEN WITH JOSH’S CONSTANT, awkward presence in Science, I had thought that if I could just get Patrick to disappear, life would go back to normal and school would be much easier to deal with. It didn’t exactly work that way.

  Patrick had been absent from Computer Apps for a few days, and I never saw him at lunch or in the halls. I found myself spending almost as much time brooding and speculating as to what might have happened to him as I did being pa
ranoid before when he was in class. I had even begun to wonder if he’d dropped out of school entirely when I overheard someone in our computer class question his friend about “the guy who always throws the killer parties.”

  The friend had responded simply, “He got suspended for pulling a fire alarm.”

  The guy had said it so flippantly as though it were completely natural for Patrick to commit such an offense. But I knew him better than that. Juvenile high school pranks were beneath Patrick and not his style. Plus, yanking a fire alarm had to be one of the easiest things to pull off without getting caught. It didn’t take long for me to realize he got himself suspended on purpose. The reason why was just as obvious. He was trying to avoid me.

  I had all but given up hope of ever seeing Patrick again and somehow resolving things between us as I pulled into the school parking lot Friday morning. Running late as always, I threw the gear into park, opened and slammed my car door, and rushed to the main building in an attempt to beat the bell. I might have made it, too, if I hadn’t noticed a dark flickering object just around the corner to the entrance.

  Under normal circumstances I would have bolted in the opposite direction. But there was something peculiar about this one that made me hesitate at the door with my hand barely touching the cold metal handle instead of rushing inside. The shadow was trembling and hiding behind a small bush.

  I cautiously twisted my head to get a better view of it without drawing attention to myself, fearing it might turn to glare at me upon sensing my curious eyes. But it seemed preoccupied with whatever it was watching, as if it were fearful for its safety if it let its guard down and stopped staring.

  I peered at my hand, now gripping tightly on the handle in indecision. I should’ve yanked open the thick, heavy door, forgotten about what I’d seen, and sprinted to first hour. However, the thought kept nagging at me that the only times I had seen shadows this scared were when they were confronted with a bright figure, Kyra’s bright aura, or Mr. Delaney. I figured if the target of this shadow’s timid fixation was any one of those three individuals, my curiosity would kill me if I didn’t shimmy against the wall to the edge and peek around the corner.

  I released the door handle like a child surrendering her security blanket to inspect an alluring yet intimidating new toy, and crept along the wall as close to the brick as possible.

  Not only did the shadow not look at me, it didn’t even seem to acknowledge my existence. Its intense fear and trembling were actually starting to rub off and make me scared of what I would find around the corner. But then I remembered that whatever it was would be an enemy of the shadow and, therefore, on my side.

  I laid my bare hands on the cold brick. Pressing my body against the wall, I took one last deep breath and watched it crystallize into fog as it left my mouth. I then stuck out just enough of my face to expose one eye, which grew exponentially as it zeroed in on the individual, or individuals, that had captured the shadow’s attention. One was undeniably the same radiant figure of light I had seen with Kyra in the halls a few weeks earlier. The other…was Patrick.

  Seeing Patrick at school while he was suspended was disconcerting enough, but what was most shocking was my unexplainable feeling that this clandestine meeting was oddly paradoxical. Maybe it was because I associated these glowing figures with his seeming foil, Kyra. Maybe it was because the second-to-last encounter I had with Patrick had revealed him as clearly unworthy company of such a bright figure of light. Or maybe it was because the last time I’d seen him he had been the hopeless hostage of a merciless shadow…which was strangely absent for the moment…

  The erratic fluttering of something dark caught my eye. As I turned to the frightened form trembling almost convulsively behind the bush, I finally understood. Patrick’s shadow was not absent. It had temporarily separated itself from Patrick because of the glowing man’s intimidating, close proximity and was now hiding in fear. I had no doubt that as soon as Patrick left the sanctity of the bright figure, it would rush back to claim him as its captive once again.

  I returned my attention to Patrick, trying to focus on his conversation with the glowing man for information on either one of them that might be of interest to me. Since I stood about twenty yards from them, too far away to hear anything, all I really had to go on was body language. Patrick’s shoulders were slumped, for one thing. I took that as depression and weariness from the heavy load he was usually carrying. He also rarely looked at the shining silhouette directly, indicating possible feelings of unworthiness and shame. That wasn’t news to me. Seeing it again only brought up the pity and affection I kept trying to replace with hate and disgust.

  The blazing figure standing slightly taller than Patrick didn’t help me much either. Without easily discernible body language, the only thing I could gather from him physically was the same thing I’d noticed last time with Kyra. He gestured every so often and his glow brightened and dimmed. I imagined the glow correlated to his inflection and tone.

  I wasn’t an expert at interpreting the flickering and fluttering of glowing auras, much less of entire forms, but I did my best. His light grew vibrant and warm like a bonfire that could make an entire camp of weary campers eagerly rush to it with excitement, and it was radiating out to Patrick tranquilly but with an air of urgency. From my viewpoint, it seemed as though he were trying desperately to extend compassion and grace to Patrick. Patrick, his head bent low to the ground and his body cold and aloof, didn’t appear to accept it.

  The only other thing I obtained from my brief voyeuristic experience was less of a physical insight than a feeling. A strange sense of familiarity flooded through my mind when I gazed at the bright figure of light, as if I had seen him more than just once before with Kyra. It was similar to the feeling you get upon seeing a familiar face in a store and racking your brain for an hour in an attempt to remember how you know the person, only to realize he or she is your neighbor.

  The bell blared through the old outdoor intercoms, more muffled than the ones inside but loud enough to startle me into some common sense. I ran to the door, pried it open, and rushed to class.

  I strolled into first hour a minute late and breathed a sigh of relief when I found the classroom void of our teacher. At least I wouldn’t have to add being tardy and a trip to the office for an admit slip to my ever-growing “How many horrible things can happen to me in one week” list.

  Glancing at Lexi’s and Kyra’s agitated faces on my way to my seat, I presumed I was about to add something else anyway.

  “Mike is such a creep and a jerk. I can’t believe they actually said yes.” Lexi was fuming and Kyra nodded in agreement. Although I didn’t know what they were talking about, I could already tell Lexi was much more riled by it than Kyra.

  I almost didn’t even want to ask. “What are we talking about exactly?”

  “Stupid Nicole,” Lexi spat out.

  “Nicole, Josh and Tyler were invited to Mike’s party tomorrow night. They agreed to go,” Kyra clarified.

  “Are we talking Mike as in sleaze-ball Mike that got Claire pregnant?”

  “Ugh, don’t remind me.” Lexi kicked her head back and rolled her eyes dramatically as if she thought Nicole were in danger of the same fate, despite the fact she would be glued to Tyler the whole time.

  “So, what am I missing here? Since when did Mike give a flip about any of us?” I asked indignantly.

  Lexi just rolled her eyes again, so Kyra answered me. “Apparently he’s gotten jealous of Patrick lately since Patrick’s been getting so popular with all of his parties. When he heard about Josh getting in a fight with Patrick, he figured it’d be a prime opportunity to steal Josh and his friends away from him.”

  “So basically they’re being used by a creep to get back at another one.” Lexi had intended her slander of Patrick as a show of loyalty. Sadly, it only reminded me of how stupidly distraught I was over losing him.

  Kyra eyed me with concern after noticing my sudden descent into mela
ncholy, something Lexi had long-been accustomed to ignoring. She reached out her hand to touch mine and opened her mouth to speak, but stopped short and retracted her arm. Mr. Delaney had finally walked in.

  Without him saying a word, the entire class ceased their talking and faced forward awaiting his command. I smiled in spite of my depressing circumstances. After an entire semester, Mr. Delaney still had the class wrapped around his little finger.

  “Good morning class.” Mr. Delaney smiled on his way to the podium, but his eyes and tone revealed weariness and suppressed tension hidden behind the calm. He reminded me of a character in an action thriller who knows the world is going to end but keeps up a smiling front for the sake of his ignorant young child.

  I glanced at Lexi and Kyra. Had they noticed? Lexi was already spellbound by Mr. Delaney’s presence as usual, but Kyra looked on edge and apprehensive as though she had read even more into Mr. Delaney’s behavior than I was able to.

  “Go ahead and start finishing your vocabulary assignment from yesterday. When you finish, you can have some free time since Christmas break starts tomorrow.” Several students cheered. “Consider it my Christmas gift to you.”

  Mr. Delaney smiled once again and wandered to his desk, but when his gaze caught Kyra’s, his eyes suddenly seemed independent of his flawless smile as they grew wide in a grim insinuation.

  Kyra responded with a quick catch of her breath and then closed her eyes solemnly. Her astonishing, bright aura simultaneously erupted from her skin.

  Lexi had missed the silent exchange between Mr. Delaney and Kyra and began opening her bag to get out her vocabulary lesson. I started to do the same but couldn’t peel my eyes off Kyra and her flickering glow. She was breathing slowly and deliberately as if she were meditating and preparing for some important contest or tournament.