Save Me

by Jenny Elliott

  The shift and tights Cara wore to school Monday made sitting on a stone wall or the floor in front of lockers impractical for lunch, so Garren joined her in the cafeteria. With any luck, the cloying odor of onions and grilled meat from the cheeseburger line wouldn’t cling to her clothes. She plucked a tiny piece of lint from her cardigan and smoothed her skirt.

  “You look nice,” Garren said. He held out an apple and she offered him half her turkey and cheese sandwich in exchange, along with a bag of his favorite chips.

  She bit into the apple’s crisp, sweet, juicy goodness. Just like the others Garren had given her, this one tasted unreal, like none she’d eaten before.

  “You really can’t tell me where you get these apples?” she asked, then took another bite of the delectable flesh.

  “Sorry. I’m sworn to secrecy.” He smiled and shrugged.

  She smiled and shrugged back. He really could be quite odd.

  “You’re having a birthday next month,” he said.

  She paused as her teeth sunk into her apple. Pulling off a chunk and chewing, she stared at him. She was getting used to his stated questions, but was starting to wonder if he was psychic. Or a stalker.

  “First you know where my class is, and now you know my birthday. How is that?”

  He finished a bite of sandwich, chewing slowly, apparently appreciating it more than most would. “Your name’s on a list.”

  No way did the office start posting class schedules and birth dates for all to see. “You sure know a lot more about me than I know about you. What’s your story, Garren?”

  He let his head fall back before he looked at her. “I need to keep my story to myself.”

  More secrecy. Surprise, surprise. Maybe his father had left, like hers had. Or his family might be dysfunctional. She didn’t want to embarrass him or stir up hurt feelings, so she left it alone.

  “Tell me how you’ll celebrate.”

  “My mom and I usually have our birthday parties at home. It’s been just the two of us since my grandparents died a few years ago and we moved here from Spokane.”

  “I’ll come over and celebrate with you.”

  She found herself saying, “Sure,” without giving the matter another thought.

  He brushed bread crumbs from his hands, placed his elbows on the table, and steepled his fingers. “Rachel’s sick.” The way he said it, he might have been predicting that Rachel had an incurable disease.

  “She definitely isn’t herself. Whether she’s really sick or is just playing it up so she won’t get in trouble for skipping school, I don’t know. She was horrible to me when I visited her. All she seems to care about is Ethan.”

  Garren ran his fingers through his blond waves. “I told you Ethan hangs out with a bad crowd.”

  “Do you think Ethan did something to her?”

  “I know Ethan’s involved in occult practices.”

  Fairy tales and horror movies came to mind. “What … like witchcraft and voodoo?”

  “Sorcery, yes.”

  “That’s just a bunch of myths made up by misfits.”

  “No.” He didn’t continue until she looked him in the eyes. “It’s not.”

  She should’ve known there was a catch when it came to Garren. He was too quirky and too kind. Of course he wasn’t sane. She chuckled, but he gave no hint of a smile, so she swallowed her laughter.

  “You think Ethan got Rachel mixed up with that stuff? Maybe that’s why she’s sick?”

  “Yes.” He took her apple core and deposited it in his bag.

  Ethan might be into hokey things, like death rock, and she could see Rachel doing anything he wanted now that she was so gaga over him. Still, that kind of hoodoo stuff couldn’t seriously be causing Rachel’s problems. She didn’t argue with Garren, though she felt silly going along with his foolishness. Even if he truly was crazy, though, her gut told her he was a safe kind of crazy.

  * * *

  During journalism class, the room buzzed with light banter and laughter. Cara made her way around the classroom, jiggling the plastic container of cookies she held. First, she stopped at a group of desks where students were generating leads for the inaugural newspaper issue, due to come out at the end of October. Then she moved on to three game tables set up in the back of the room, one for checkers, one for chess, and one for Scrabble, where other students chose to take a break from newspaper work.

  At one of the computers lined up against the wall, Garren sat with the sophomore-in-training who would end up overseeing the layout program. Cara stood beside Garren and pretended to pay attention to his instructions. Really, her focus remained on David, who stood at the front of the room, speaking with a student. Mr. Cutter sat at the teacher’s desk with his laptop.

  When the girl David had been speaking with left, Cara walked over to him. His eyes turned to her. She didn’t meet his gaze, but looked down to admire his muscular forearms beneath his rolled-up sleeves.

  She handed him the container of oatmeal-gumdrop cookies. “Thanks for agreeing to the interview.”

  “My pleasure.” He pried the lid off the container and held it out for her.

  She took a cookie and bit into it. It tasted buttery and sweet and felt chewy and gooey in her mouth.

  He finished off his cookie in two bites, then grabbed two more. “These are great. Thanks.” He brought the cookies over to Mr. Cutter, who also took a couple. Then he closed the container and set it on the desk.

  Cara walked over to the far corner of the room, where she and David would have more privacy. Mr. Cutter chewed his cookie as he watched David walk over to her.

  “I had dinner at the Cove last night,” David said.

  She was surprised he’d mention anything related to their first date. If anything, she thought maybe he’d say something about their whale-watching trip that weekend. She wondered if he’d eaten alone—or, more to the point, if he hadn’t.

  “Did you have the chowder again?” she asked, hoping to encourage his openness.

  “Of course. Even though the rest of the menu sounded pretty great, too.”

  It didn’t sound like she was going to find out if he’d dined alone. “Nothing’s as great as that chowder.”

  “So how would you like to do this? Do you want me to sit next to your desk? Or we could bring a couple of chairs over here?”

  “Let’s get some chairs.”

  “Let me get them.” He walked over and picked up the free chair next to Garren. He seemed to concentrate more on Garren than the layout on the computer screen. Then he picked up another free chair closer to their corner.

  When he brought the chairs over and set them down, Cara caught a whiff of his minty, musky scent. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to run her hands along his forearms, bury her face in his neck, and breathe him in. He took a seat across from her and she sat and crossed her legs.

  Clearing her throat, she pulled her camera from her backpack. Focusing on David’s image through the lens, she said, “First, the photo.”

  He sighed, then smiled.

  The photographs she snapped would get more than their fair share of attention from her before the newspaper issue came out. There was no harm in admiring him from afar.

  She put the camera away and David relaxed and leaned back in his chair. His khakis pulled tighter over the muscles in his thighs. Averting her gaze, she pulled her cell phone from her bag to record the interview, as well as a notepad and a pencil. She flipped to her page of questions and stared at it. If she wanted to get through the list, it would be best to wait until further into the interview to look him in the eyes.

  She rested her phone on her backpack and pressed record. “I didn’t ask for a copy of your résumé, so let’s start with some basic questions.”

  “You were going to ask for a copy of my résumé? Yikes.”

  She shrugged. “What’s your date of birth?”

  Unless she imagined it, when David revealed his age, he looked closely at her face, as
if checking her reaction. He was twenty-one. Considering she’d turn eighteen the following month, he was only about three years older than her. Not that big of an age difference, really.

  “Where are you attending college and what degrees are you working toward?”

  “I’m studying at Inland Washington University. This student teaching job is part of a reciprocal program Washington has with Oregon. I’m working toward a B.S. in secondary education with an endorsement in English.”

  “Why do you want to teach high school?”

  “I thought it would give me a chance to help students get a handle on the basics before college. This internship came up and felt like the right fit at the time. It almost seemed providential.”

  Now she couldn’t stop from looking into his eyes. There was a knowing look there, emphasized by the flow of warmth between them. She struggled to convey with her own eyes that she agreed that his being here, and their having met at Liberty Charters—their bond—seemed meant-to-be.

  Blinking and swallowing, she checked her list of questions. “What are some of your favorite outdoor and indoor activities?”

  “Well, whale watching is growing on me.” He graced her with a giant lopsided grin.

  She laughed. “That’s good to hear, especially after all the drama you’ve been through on the water.”

  “It hasn’t been all bad.” He paused before he continued. “I also love running and fishing. My favorite indoor activities are reading, writing, and playing Scrabble.”

  She perked up at his mention of her favorite game. “Do you play Scrabble with people or against the computer?”

  “Against the computer, mostly. I play a lot.”

  “I play the computer, too, just about every night.” She glanced over at the game table, where other staff members gathered, chattering as they played. “I’d love to play you. Maybe after the interview?”

  He nodded his assent. “I’m curious to see how we’d compete. We can rotate with the group.”

  Great. More group time.

  But she wouldn’t complain. She’d take what she could get.

  “Where does your family live?”

  “My dad lives in the Tri-Cities. It’s just the two of us.”

  “You don’t have any brothers or sisters?”

  “Nope, I’m an only child.”

  “Me, too.” She tapped her pad with her pencil. “My father left before I was born, so I’m thankful to have my mom.”

  He frowned. “I’m sorry.”

  Before she could ask him another question, he looked past her and sat up straighter in his chair. Turning her head, she recognized Principal Roberts by his graying hair and his tie and dress slacks. He strolled across the classroom, accompanied by a familiar, slender blonde female.

  Amber Miller. She’d been a senior when Cara was a freshman and had been the girl Chris dated before he’d asked Cara out. Amber looked as eccentric as ever, wearing a pink swing dress with a black trench and heels. Her lips and fingernails were painted pink, like her dress. Her features reminded Cara of a porcelain doll’s, with her large, round, cobalt-colored eyes and full lips. Amber had never looked like she belonged in high school, nor in Liberty.

  Mr. Roberts and Amber stopped at the teacher’s desk to talk to Mr. Cutter, who directed them over to David and Cara.

  David glanced at Amber, then turned his gaze toward the principal.

  “Good to see you, Mr. Wilson,” Principal Roberts said as he strode over with Amber at his side. “You, too, Cara. I hear you’re this year’s newspaper editor. Congratulations.”

  Cara pasted on a smile. “Thanks. I’m interviewing Mr. Wilson for a new teacher feature.”

  Principal Roberts nodded in an a-ha way. He waved a hand in Amber’s direction. “You might remember Amber Miller, Cara?”

  Amber turned an unsmiling face toward Cara.

  “Of course,” Cara said, only managing a slight smile in response to Amber’s disparaging look. “Nice to see you, Amber.”

  Amber’s “hello” sounded sing-songish and taunting. She cocked her head to the side.

  Cara blinked. For a second it looked like Amber’s eyes darkened until they turned black, then shifted back to blue.

  “Amber graduated from Seaside a few years back,” Principal Roberts explained to David. “Amber, this is David Wilson. He’s new to Liberty. He’s student teaching in English and journalism.”

  “Good to meet you, David,” she said, and held her hand out to him.

  He took it and shook it. She cupped his hand in both of hers, only letting go when he pulled his hand free.

  Cara hadn’t missed the seductive lilt in Amber’s tone any more than the handholding.

  “Ms. Miller’s interviewing for the administrative assistant position,” Principal Roberts said. “I thought I’d show her around.”

  “Good to see you,” David said, effectively dismissing the pair.

  Principal Roberts guided Amber back toward the door. David didn’t give Amber another look that Cara noticed. Amber, however, turned back to eye David.

  Amber winked at Cara as Principal Roberts steered her out of the classroom. Cara wasn’t sure what to make of that.

  After their unexpected visitors left, she turned back to David. “I think I have enough to work with for the feature. Wanna play Scrabble?”

  He stood and avoided her eyes. “Would you mind taking a rain check? I should work with a few other students before the period ends.”

  “Sure.” She barely stopped the frown she felt coming.

  Thanks a lot, Amber.

  * * *

  At home, Cara sat back on her bed with her laptop and downloaded the photos of the whales she’d taken on the day of the overboard incident. The shots of the grays turned out clear and colorful. But for some reason, the transient orca photos appeared dark and grainy.

  The difference in photo quality didn’t make sense. She’d only used one camera and both pictures were taken in the same setting under the same lighting. The only thing she could figure was that the opposite direction of the orca shots and the greater distance had caused the disparity.

  She printed the photos of the grays and tacked them up with the other whale photos on her wall. Back on her bed with her laptop, she scrolled ahead through her pictures and took her time evaluating each of David’s new teacher feature photos. She printed the one she finally chose.

  In the photo, David looked cute with his dark hair, white smile, and green eyes. Only the smile was straight rather than lopsided, and the depth and warmth she witnessed in his eyes in person wasn’t visible. Still, it was better than nothing.

  With David’s printed photo in hand, she went to her dresser and pulled the backing off two of her frames. She slid a photo of her and Rachel out of one and slipped it behind the picture of the two of them in the other. David’s photo fit in the empty frame. She tucked it away in her nightstand drawer, where she’d stash it whenever she was gone, so her mom wouldn’t see.

  FOURTEEN

  Even after unloading the books she didn’t need before journalism class, Cara groaned from the weight of her backpack. Garren met her at her locker, slipped her bag from her shoulder, and slung it over his own.

  “Thanks,” she said, and rubbed the dent in her shoulder.

  Like the day she’d hit him with her car, he offered up some advice. “It’s not good for your back, hefting this heavy bag around. You should carry less and stop by your locker more often.”

  He was right, of course. “I’ll work on that.”

  They walked together to the journalism classroom. Mr. Cutter tapped away on his laptop at the teacher’s desk. Cara scanned the room for David, but he wasn’t there.

  When she took her seat, Garren placed her backpack on the floor.

  Rachel sat motionless beside her, wearing a black hooded sweatshirt, black leggings, and new combat boots. Black eyeliner outlined her narrowed eyes. Black was an unusual color choice for Rachel. She must be trying to lo
ok more mysterious like Ethan.

  “So Rachel, who died?” Cara meant the comment as a joke.

  Rachel ignored her, staring straight ahead with a blank expression.

  David hustled in before the bell rang and dropped his bag behind the teacher’s desk. As always, Cara’s stomach turned bubbly as he addressed the class. He stood tall and spoke with confidence, using both his voice and his hands to communicate.

  Halfway through the period, an abrupt movement from Rachel caught Cara’s attention. Rachel wrapped her arms around her midsection and winced, then fell to the floor. Cara’s mouth dropped open. Forgetting about their silly fight, she climbed over their seats and knelt beside her friend. Rachel’s body went rigid.

  “Rachel? What’s wrong?” Cara’s words choked her as concern crept up from her belly to her throat.

  Rachel lay stiff and still. Her wide eyes looked murky like mud, not bright like their usual melted caramel shade.

  Garren bent down beside Cara, frown lines puckering his perfect forehead. Other students gathered around them. David knelt on Cara’s other side and took Rachel’s wrist to check her pulse. Rachel’s body remained ramrod straight.

  David gently placed Rachel’s arm back at her side.

  “Do you want me to go tell the office?” Cara asked him.

  She was ready to spring to her feet, but David put a hand on her arm to stop her. “Mr. Cutter already called. The nurse is on her way,” he said, in the same soothing tone he’d used when they’d last been aboard the Lookout together. He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. When he let go, she missed the comfort of his touch.

  Not a minute later, the school nurse bustled into the classroom to evaluate Rachel before calling to instruct the front office to notify both Rachel’s mom and emergency assistance. The paramedics arrived and whisked Rachel away.

  * * *

  Mr. Cutter dismissed class early. After a short yet agonizingly slow drive to Liberty County Hospital, Cara passed through the automatic doors. She rounded the corner next to the lobby and made her way down the hall to the waiting area, where she spotted a familiar plump form sitting in a faded armchair.

  Cara bent down and gave Ms. Clark a quick hug. “How is she?”