by Abra Ebner
“I need to talk to you,” I fessed to Jake.
“Okay, shoot.”
I shook my head. “No, I mean. I really need to talk to you.”
Jake tilted his head. “Can’t you just leave it alone?”
I felt tense. “No. That’s the problem. I have an addictive personality, Jake, once I get on a roll it’s hard for me to break it. I need answers. I need to know what this light is between us. It makes no sense, and frankly, it’s a little too ethereal-supernatural for my taste. In a way it’s downright creepy how it makes me feel.”
He held out a mitten-covered hand toward me as though to suggest I lower my voice.
“Wes isn’t going to care, Jake. Clearly he doesn’t care anymore.” Those words made me feel like crying all of a sudden.
I could see Jake falter as he wanted to grasp my hand and comfort me. He didn’t.
“I don’t know, Jake. You’ve seen how he’s been, haven’t you?”
Jake shrugged. I could tell he was just trying to avoid taking sides.
“Please, Jake. I don’t know how much more I can handle.”
“From Wes?”
I felt heavy. “No, from life. I just need something, anything that’s going to make me look forward to my days awake rather than dreaming in my perfect world. I dread the daylight and hunger for night. That’s not a good thing.”
Jake bit his lip. “No man, or no answer is going to make your life any better. Happiness is something that comes from inside.”
I laughed sarcastically. “Yeah, sure—to a point. I don’t really believe that’s all true. I feel like having something as simple as a friend who will be frank with me could be all I need to have the strength to keep living.”
He grumbled. “I’m frank with you.”
It was the exact reply I was looking for. “No. You’re not.”
I noticed as his jaw clenched and I thought of his teeth, his real teeth, hidden under the grotesque guise he chose to own. “Fine.”
“Fine what?” I felt my emotions perk a little.
“Fine. We’ll talk about it, but it’s not going to make you feel any better. You’re still going to be miserable, if not more so. That light makes me miserable as well.”
“Makes you miserable? How? You act like it’s not there.”
“I know I do. It’s how I cope. It’s your addictive personality that makes me want to keep the real reason for it away from you. Do you understand that? Think it over, and if you still want to know what it is at lunch I’ll explain, but seriously—I don’t think you want to know. I don’t think you’re going to be able to handle it.”
I didn’t like being told what I could and could not handle. Jake should have known me well enough to know not to say that. “I can handle anything, Jake.”
He rolled his eyes. “Of course you can.” He looked nervous.
I wasn’t used to seeing Jake act so nervous unless he was doing just that—acting. He was good at it when he was playing the geeky roll he did at school, but this was real nervousness.
“I better run,” he added.
I sensed that he didn’t want to leave me, but he did anyway. I figured he didn’t want me trying to pry answers out of him before lunch. Wes had walked on ahead with Lacy, not bothering to care what happened to me. It hurt. How could he do this to me so fast? I understood that this was Lacy’s first day in school and she was going to need guidance, but this was my first day back to school, too—didn’t I need help? I tried to make myself feel better by justifying it—he’s just a boy. The problem with that excuse, however, was that then there was Max. Max would have never done that to Jane. Max doted on Jane hand and foot, and Jane, though not always so thankful, loved him in return—I got enough from her mind to know that.
I walked up to the front doors, hand hovering over the handle. I didn’t have time to relish the suspense of the moment, though. The door flew open and a group of older kids brushed past me. One bumped my shoulder rather hard, not bothering to say sorry but rather glancing at me as though I were a nuisance. Once he saw my face, however, his expression changed to one of fearful awkwardness and he turned away. Eric Bone was his name, not that I knew that a moment ago, but human minds were an open book. He didn’t know my sister, but he knew about what had happened and who I was. I hated the pity and malicious thoughts that trickled out after him. How could he so rudely think that he was happy to see Jane gone? Were people really so mean and thoughtless?
This is what I was dreading most—the thoughts. No doubt I was about to hear an orchestra of opinions on my sister’s passing, but at this point what choice did I have but to bear it?
I caught the door as it slowly closed, swinging it back open and entering the crowded hall. I bowed my head and tried to act unconcerned and unaffected, like I’d never left school at all. I didn’t have to look up to know just how everyone looked at me. Though I’m sure the hall was filled with silence to a normal person, it was booming with noise in my world. Unfiltered opinions bombarded me and though I tried my best to ignore them, accusations that I was somehow involved in her death could not be ignored. Never had I wished for a means to escape the thoughts than I did now. Never in my whole life had I felt this much pressure, and while in such a weakened state. I almost craved the taste of Greg’s blood like I hadn’t eaten a thing in days. Anything to make it stop.
I hazily found my way to my locker, struggling to remember the code. I focused on each number. Five—ignoring the group of sophomore tarts as they passed, whispering amongst themselves, wishing it was me that had died instead, at least Jane was the quiet one. Twist to the left, fifteen—ignoring the boy leaning against the wall a few feet away who had the locker next to mine, too afraid to come use it while I was here.
My hand shook as I found the last number and swung the door open. I hastily shoved my bag inside and slammed it. Veering away from it all, the first bell rang. I winced at the sound, hearing it pierce over the echo of the crowd. When the bell stopped ringing, to my relief, many of the thoughts had quieted, but they were still louder than ever. Before, it had been easy to handle the thoughts as I had blended in better. This was madness.
I passed up my first class, heading to the only place I knew of to find refuge. I thought to myself how ironic this felt, a cold chill washing over me as I finally understood. Tears threatened my eyes as I thought of Jane. All her visions of death, as invasive as the thoughts I heard now—no wonder she was so tired, so grumpy, and so plain. I arrived at the library doors, delving inside as I released a painful breath. A cold sweat had begun to form across my skin, but as the doors shut behind me, the rude comments were replaced by soft whispers and author’s voices. The lights were only half on, the librarian likely tucked in her office wasting her first hour of the day on mindless emails and Facebook games.
I took a moment to regroup. At least I was at school. That was a good first step. I hadn’t spent much time in the library in the past, but what I knew of it then was nothing compared to how I saw it now—this was a Mecca. I made my way to a stack and touched the books there, hearing the author’s voices echo back at me. They were calm, some contrite, and others whimsical. These were voices I could grow to get used to.
I made my way to the stack where I first learned about who Jake really was. It was the section on poetry. I swam in a sea of rhythmic voices. I shut my eyes feeling so calm. My hands reached out and found the books as I leaned back against the shelves and slid to the floor. I sat there leaning against the shelves for some time before sleep overcame me.
. . .
“There you are. I figured I’d find you here.”
I woke with a start, coming out of a fog of voices and into another. I looked up.
Jake looked down on me. “Not really surprised to see you here. I figured you were going to have a rough day. I have to admit it’s been rough for me, too.” He raised an eyebrow, his blue light hidden behind the thick glasses. I was a little disappointed. “Not fun.” He had a brown sack
in his hand as he took his place beside me on the floor. “And the librarian clearly did not find you—not surprised by that, either. She’s rather daft,” he murmured.
I sat up a little, running a hand through my hair and laughing.
“I’m sorry I left you. I shouldn’t have made you face the hallways on your own,” he shrugged, opening the paper bag and retrieving a banana. He peeled it and handed it to me. It was a sweet gesture, and I appreciated it.
“It really wasn’t your responsibility,” I grumbled, allowing him to put the facts together that I wasn’t too thrilled that Wes had practically ditched me.
“It should have been my responsibility,” he added rather bravely.
I looked at him sideways. “What does that mean?”
He rolled his eyes and popped the top to a fowl smelling drink in his hand. “It’s lunch, you know.” He was skirting around the question.
I laughed, looking at my banana and braking off a piece. “Clearly.”
“I told you I’d tell you about the blue light, remember?”
Okay, so maybe he wasn’t skirting around the question at all. How could I forget? “Yeah.” I suddenly felt much more with it.
He swallowed a gulp of unknown liquid, staring at the can and picking at the tab. “I guess this is harder to say than I thought,” he mumbled.
I clenched my jaw. Please, someone be frank with me.
He drew in a deep breath and exhaled dramatically before starting. “What you see only happens to vampires, and it’s rare. Unfortunately, there’s also nothing I, or we, can do about it.” He smiled bleakly. “I was so happy the first time I saw this light with you. For years I had . . . hoped, I suppose, to find the person who had it.” He bit his lip to cover the fact it was shaking. “I hide it behind these glasses on purpose. I never wanted you to see it because of what it meant, and what it does to you.”
I had one brow raised, still casually picking at my banana. I chose not to interrupt. At this point, I didn’t have much to say—he still hadn’t given me enough information to formulate a precise enough question.
He sighed and set his can down. “You see, this light is our shared soul.” He wasn’t looking at me, he wasn’t even moving.
I froze as well. “What do you mean by shared soul?” I finally asked a moment later.
“What I mean is . . . love. It’s love. Basically it’s telling me that you’re my soul mate.”
“Soul mate?” I gawked, searching his eyes.
“Yeah, soul mate, as in Max and Jane.”
I wanted him to tell me he was joking—he didn’t. “You’re joking, right? How can that be? I love Wes.” But then again, did I?
Jake looked a little disappointed by my reaction. I could see that perhaps he was looking for me to drop everything and profess my love for him in return. In all honesty, I hadn’t really thought about it like that. I mean, I craved that blue light, but I didn’t really crave Jake . . . necessarily—maybe?
I shook my head.
My curiosity for the light felt more like obsession, not love. Something more like how a fling feels, a craving, something that’s easily quenched and forgotten. Clearly, that was not the case with Jake—he really did love me. That much was obvious already.
“It just is,” he added, sounding lost and taken aback.
I dropped the banana and touched Jake’s arm, so warm it was almost uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. I should have said that better. I’m just so confused. This is so . . . big.”
“I’m confused, too. I guess that makes two of us.” Jake’s head was getting lower by the minute.
For a moment I tried to put myself in his shoes. It was like the way I’d always looked at Wes from afar—Jake had done the same thing with me. I felt guilty that I didn’t have this instant attraction to him as I felt I should have, given the facts. I mean, sure, I’d had that attraction with the light, but somehow the two weren’t correlating—perhaps it was because of his guise. I wondered if I could try and make them correlate. With Wes acting the way he was toward me, what did I really have to lose?
I pressed my lips together and reached for Jake’s chin, tilting it up. I slid his glasses from his nose and watched as the light danced through his eyes, taking my breath away as it always did. I tried my best to look at Jake and not the light, but it was hard. I leaned in to kiss him but he turned his head and leaned away.
“Don’t,” he murmured, pulling his lips over his fake teeth and braces—keeping me from them.
Sure, it wasn’t the most attractive thing to think of kissing, but I wanted to see what would happen. I wanted to know what it’d be like. Would everything change?
He brought his hands to his face and ran them across his brow. “You can’t do that. You’re not allowed. That’s what I was trying to say. Even with the light, there’s nothing we can do about it. A vampire is not allowed to do this. If our leader were to find out, I’d be relocated. For me, it’s enough to be around you. That’s why I never wanted to tell you what the light meant.”
“Why?” I felt bitter.
“I’ve told you before. What I have is a disease, a fever. It’s a blood disease just like . . .”
I could tell he didn’t want to say it. “Like AIDS or Hepatitis B?” I offered. It was a concept I was used to, having run in the drug circles I had for so long.
He didn’t respond, but it was the answer nonetheless.
“It’s best if we just avoid it all together. For you, I don’t sense it will be that hard.” He said it spitefully. “Wes doesn’t want to let you go, either. Whatever he’s doing to you right now is just . . . it’s just what happens sometimes. He loves you.”
I wasn’t so sure. On top of the apprehension I already felt in our frail relationship, there was now the fact that Wes’s soul mate was still out there. I was not it. I felt depressed, if it was even possible to feel worse than I already had at the beginning of the day.
“You need to stay with him. In this life he will give you what you need. You just have to work at it a little more than normal—people fake it all the time.”
Fake it? I didn’t like the term. “But why you? Why can I see your light when I don’t think Jane ever saw one with Max.”
“It’s because I am a vampire. My fever makes my aura, or light, more obvious to you. In return I can see yours better as well. It’s lighter than everyone else, inviting, and warm. It’s sweet and sugary as though I could almost taste it.” He looked dreamy. “I feel like an addict barred from the only thing that matters, but I can handle it.”
I could understand the feeling. “Aura? Is that the better term for it?”
He nodded. “Yes. I can see everyone’s aura. It’s always changing based on their mood.”
I nodded. Auras were something I was familiar with, but I hadn’t made the connection between Jake’s light and that until now. “I guess it makes sense.” I suddenly felt awkward beside him. Here I was, with the one man that should mean everything to me.
Jake must have noticed this, reaching over and taking my hand. “Promise me we can still be friends. Promise me we’ll take this in stride. I couldn’t bear losing you, not when everything else about my life seems so dark.”
I drew in a long, slow breath. I was taken by Jake’s sensitive confession. I had always seen him to be so self-assured, so confident and forward. Whether it was the fact of what he’d told me this afternoon or not, besides the awkwardness, I couldn’t help but feel a little of the love that should have been there. What I was afraid of was feeling more.
JANE:
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed since we’d decided to try and find my father. Sometimes it felt like minutes, other times hours or even weeks. We had stopped to eat a few times, lost track of our task only to remember again when my thoughts returned to Max. I was wasting time, so this go around, I tried my best to remind myself of why I was here and what I was about to do every moment I could.
I raised my head, thinking on this goal
as we once again stood in the shadow of the large tree in the Ever After. It amazed me even more now than it had the first time. I was finally able to take it in with all its intricate detail. Each branch was beautifully twisted, housing a hundred birds as they took flight.
“Your father is here somewhere. He’s always here,” Eliza insisted.
“I still don’t understand what he’s doing here.” Being a community man wasn’t reason enough. Was he flirting with the idea of revival? But how? He was always the steady arrow. He would never allow himself to be reborn.
“I think in a way he’s waiting for you.”
I laughed, but I knew she was right. My father understood my determination. It was why we always got along so well. I was willing to do what it took to get what I wanted. I was a hard worker, strong-minded. He’d know that I’d want to be reborn.
We searched the crowd, circling the tree. I looked hopefully for that brown hair that was so much like my own. He was tidy, well calculated in his looks as well as his decisions. It felt like decades since I’d seen him though he was the first person I saw after my death. How long ago had I died?
“There!” Eliza barked suddenly. She stopped dead in her tracks.
I was a little disappointed I hadn’t been the one to find him first. “Where?”
“Between the boy with the ball and the woman wearing that silly pink poncho.”
I scanned the crowd, looking for such figures as she’d described. It was hard to find them at first, almost as though my eye didn’t want to. But, then the boy with the ball kicked it high into the air. It caught my attention, my gaze following it until it hit the ground, right next to a man whose back was turned to me.
I had to admit I was afraid I wouldn’t recognize him for how long it felt since I’d seen him, but in that instant it all came back to me as though I’d just died just a moment ago. “Father!” I couldn’t help but yell. A number of people turned to look at me, one of which was actually my father. They stared as I ran toward him.