by Dana Faletti
Whisper
by Dana Faletti
Copyright © 2012 by Dana Faletti
The characters and events portrayed in this book are a work of fiction. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage system, without the express written consent of the author.
Cover illustration by Robin Siddoway at Siddy Girl Design
Cover Photograph by Jen Carver Photography
For Shaia Maria, Sofia Amelia and Saraya May.
“He will cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you will find refuge; His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.”
~Psalm 91:4
Acknowledgements
Tremendous thanks go out to:
My husband, Bob Faletti, who encouraged me from the time I wrote the very first words of Whisper. Thank you for caring enough and believing in me enough to make this happen.
My parents, Dom and Jackie Battaglia, for reading Whisper as it was being written. For their enthusiasm and their honesty I am grateful.
Felicia, Maria, Angela, Sheri, Jay, Leslie and my fiction writers group – everyone who has read and critiqued for me. Thank you for your feedback, encouragement and love.
Prologue
She was just too pretty. I mean, don’t get me wrong – ninth grade girls are mostly attractive, and sure, they smell great, but this one was way over the top. I could tell right away. She was different from the rest.
I’d started making a habit of watching her. The old willow was perfect for lurking, lots of shadows, lots of shade. Nobody noticed you if you positioned yourself just so inside the weeping branches. I could part the long thin strands of tree and peek out to catch her every move – the way she tucked her thick wavy golden brown hair behind her left ear, how she fidgeted at quiet moments, the attempts she made to look detached by standing still, right arm draped across her curvy body, clutching the other arm for balance, that faraway look that was painfully aware of every word every other kid was saying. Her nervous smile spoke volumes to how much she wanted to fit in, but too bad for her. She just never would. She was so much more than they ever could dream to be.
At least, I was pretty sure she was. Time would tell, and time was running out according to my calculations.
For weeks now, I’d been watching, alert for any changes, anything that seemed to distract her from the popularity contest of high school. So far, she’d given me nothing to go on. Maybe she was just a pretty face… well, package actually. Tall and lithe, every inch of her filled out to perfection. Big green eyes draped with long lashes, long wavy hair streaked with gold, legs that just kept on going… and going. Lips that…oh man…
The real kicker though was how she held herself. It wasn’t poise or grace – at times she was downright clumsy. And, I could tell by the way she giggled at all the right times that she wanted to be one of the girls, but she had an older quality about her, a truth and a practical kind of strength that was observable only when she thought she was alone. On the surface, she was sweet and spunky, but under that there was a toughness I assumed she would be needing in the future. Although this social wasteland scared the hell out of her, I was pretty sure she was fearless otherwise.
“You’re late,” came a raspy voice from behind me. I guess I wasn’t the only one aware.
“Shoot… I didn’t realize the time.” Pushing the hair out of my eyes and the branches out of my way, I grabbed my messenger bag.
“If we’re going to get this one, we’ll have to hurry.”Hadn’t I been doing this for a while?
“We’ll get to her. Nix the melodrama.”
“Dude, I’m just saying…”
His voice faded into white noise as I coolly stepped backwards from the shadows into the light, scanning the crowd for her, to lay eyes on her one more time. The smell of strawberries and sweat hung in the air. Mmmm, smelled like teen spirit out here.
My eyes finally found her. Her smile was broad and just too bright, splashing droplets of light at others around her. They all dulled in comparison, even at their best. She was radiant. Not just beautiful, but celestial. And she had no idea what she was in for.
Chapter One
“High School Sucks.” These were the first words I wrote in my Honors English journal dated September seventh, 2012. It was only the second week of school, and I could already tell it was going to be another painful year for Callie, short for Calliope, Evans. I mean, not only was I the youngest kid in my class, but I was the only one without a phone of my own. Everybody else was texting and tweeting, and here I was – stuck in the dark ages with a calling card in my purse.
“It’s for emergencies,” my mother had warned me when she handed me the card. As far as she was concerned, emergencies lurked around every corner. They were watching my every move, just waiting for the right time to strike, to steal my innocence away or tempt me into making some bad decision. My mom was so paranoid. “Be careful, Callie, you don’t want to get involved in those kinds of things. You don’t want to get yourself a bad reputation. You’re still really young, and your brain can’t handle these kinds of freedoms yet, Callie. Just because your friends are allowed doesn’t mean you are. We’re different from their parents.”
I swore my eyes should have been permanently fixed in the back of my head from rolling them at her. No cell phone. No hanging out at Mila’s when her mom wasn’t home. Definitely no boys – my mother definitely doesn’t trust males. So many rules.
“Okay ladies and grunts,” Mr. Edgars, our English teacher cleared his throat in an attempt to gain our attention. “Bell’s about to ring. Close up the journals and we’ll see you Monday.”
Yawning, I tucked pen into purse and stood up to return my journal to the basket on Edgar’s bookshelf. “Oww…” Embarrassed that I had groaned out loud, I felt my cheeks redden as I grabbed the back of my head in pain. My right ear started to ring, and the throb in my head began to worsen. Doubled over, I tried to collect myself, to breathe and push away the pain.
“Miss Evans, you ok?” Mr. Edgars was next to me, his hand on my elbow as if I needed support to stand.
“I’m alright, just a migraine.” I spluttered, eyes shut tight, trying to handle it. Behind my eyes, lights flashed. Colors splashed together, and all at once, there was an unbearable brightness. As suddenly as it had come on, the headache went away. Same as the other times. I opened my eyes. Weird.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Uh, yeah. I’m good, Mr. Edgars. Sorry about that.” Just then the bell rang, saving me from what probably would have been a fumbled explanation with too much information. “See you Monday.”
That was the first time I’d gotten one of these headaches at school. They’d started last summer, sneaking up on me in the middle of whatever – at the pool, the mall. At first they’d only lasted a few seconds. I’d get a stabbing sensation, like someone had speared me in the head and then immediately pulled out. Lately, they were lasting a little longer, up to a minute maybe, and they were getting stronger, more blinding – like a hundred spears. I mentioned it to my parents once, but my Dad told me to stop being a drama queen (which, to his defense, I am most of the time). Mom, of course, blamed hormones. Everything is hormonal to her.
Rounding the corner of the hall, I headed straight for my locker to switch out English books for my bag. Why was it so loud in the hallway today? And what was with all of this emotion? I could hear at least three girls crying – loudly… and I think a boy too. Whoa - embarrassing. And, was t
hat Heather Chandler, one of the most popular girls in my grade, self loathing into the mirror at her locker? What pimples? I never noticed… huh? Fat where? This girl was gorgeous from head to toe. Creamy skin and white teeth, long dark wavy hair and a curvy teenage figure. No fat, no pimples. And yet, here she was bemoaning her ugliness?
She must be on something to be talking that loud. This girl was going to crucify her rep! I had to clue her in; she’d thank me later.
I carefully and quietly inched up behind her, planning to tap her on the shoulder and motion for her to take the volume down a notch. As I reached out behind her, I noticed the reflection in the mirror that was stuck to her locker door.
And, I screamed.
Because looking back at me from Heather’s mirror was not only a seriously not pretty version of her but also the most hideous creature I’d ever seen in my life.
The girl in the mirror was dripping with pimples and extra skin. Her hair was a nest of tangles. She looked tired and sad and… a mess really. Why wasn’t she scared to death like I was? The creature standing right behind her was horrific!
Its gray skin sagged around its bones, if it even had any. In fact, it looked like a pile of mush with a face, arms and legs. I had no idea if it was male, female or totally something else. Its bloodshot eyes were half closed, and its sagging purplish lips seemed to be chanting in Heather’s reflection’s ear.
Rubbing my eyes in between shrieks, I tried to clean the crazy out. What kind of nasty trick was my brain playing on me? This couldn’t be real. And yet, when I opened them again, there they were, some twisted version of beauty and the beast, playing out their roles in my high school hallway (or at least in my fractured mind.) They didn’t even seem to notice me screaming behind them at fever pitch. I looked around. No one was paying any attention to crazy little me or Monster High over here. What the hello was going on here? Tears began to fall from Heather’s reflection’s droopy eyes. That’s when I suddenly had the overwhelming urge to grab whatever this thing was and just rip it apart.
I lunged for it.
“What’s your problem?” Heather swiveled on one foot, glared at me and gave me a once over.
Suddenly, the creature was gone. It was quiet in the hallway, like the deejay had purposely scratched the record for effect. Nobody was crying anymore, when just moments ago I had heard wailing, to the tune of a tantrum, really.
And here I was, my fist clenched in the air, grasping at a handful of invisible. Can anyone spell freak? Yeah, C-A-L-L-I-E… I could feel scarlet fingers crawling up my face.
“Uh, sorry.” This is so not happening… I imagined my steaming face- a big bright tomato. Lovely.
Heather Chandler was still glaring at me, looking pretty as usual. “Whatever.”
I watched her huff off down the hallway, tossing her dark hair to the side.
What was that?!
These headaches must be doing some crazy damage to my head. Now, I’m seeing monsters? And what the hello was that surge of adrenaline that had me ripping the head off of the imaginary ugly? Losing it. Totally. Out. Of. Control.
---
“What do you mean, you both have Mrs. Valentino? I specifically requested you be separated this year.” My mother sighed at my twin brothers, exasperated. “Listen Jack, if you and Sam can’t keep your traps shut and stay out of trouble, I’ll pull you both out of that school in a New York heartbeat.” God bless her, she always screwed up her clichés.
Meet my mom, Mrs. Johanna Evans. Mother of myself – Calliope Lanae (oh lucky Mom!) and to my two younger eleven year old twin brothers – Jack and Sam (luck runs out – boo!) Oh well, you can’t win every one of them – as bad cliché momma would say.
Seriously though, my mother does have her hands full between myself – the uber intelligent drama queen of one oh four Shady Lane and my brothers who are constantly pulling pranks, getting hurt, hurting each other, destroying private property that may or may not belong to elected officials, etc… They are living and breathing creators of destruction and chaos, noise and mayhem. And, they eat everything – no really – everything (meaning strawberry scented body lotion or shaving cream as well as everything in the pantry and fridge that may or may not qualify as a food item). This really drives Johanna ca…ray…zee. On top of that, she is married to my Dad - Mr. Jonathan Evans, owner and right hand man of Evans Funeral Home. Dad works lots of hours, but when he’s home, he’s totally into us. Usually his hands are on my brothers, prying them off of each other or wrestling in the mix, but he hangs with me too. We both love sports, and that’s cool for him, because my brothers won’t sit and watch a game with him. I do though. And, Dad’s a hugger too, always slapping his arms around me, sometimes Mom too.
My parents were young when they had me, and they are young compared to my friends’ parents. They’re an attractive couple, mostly normally neurotic like everybody else. I like them most of the time, except when they make my life miserable, like lately with all of these pain in the arsenal rules.
“Mom,” I said, plopping my heavy backpack on the kitchen table, “I had another one of those crazy headaches at school today. I think it made me hallucinate.”
She dropped the tomato she was slicing and eyed me. “Hallucinate? What do you mean, Cal? What did it feel like? Who did you sit with at lunch?” Now, she was coming at me, knife in hand – great… “Do you think one of those boys slipped something into your drink?” Again with the mistrust of the male species…
“Agh Mom – no. I got a headache in English class for like a second, and then the pain was gone.” I chomped on a piece of celery with ranch that was left on the table. Jack and Sam weren’t on their A game today obviously. “Then, it was like somebody turned the volume up on the world in the hallway and I saw…” I couldn’t even tell her. “It was weird, that’s all.”
She furrowed her eyebrows and tossed her long dark hair to the side. This was mom diagnosing. “That is weird, Cal.” She was quiet for a moment and then shrugged her shoulders and frowned. “Maybe your little friend is coming to visit soon, huh?” And she winked. Translation: “maybe you are getting your period.” My mother and her period must have had a close personal relationship during her adolescence, you know - long talks after lights out, sharing secrets, borrowing clothes… She always refers to my period as “my friend.” Exasperating, really. “It’s probably hormonal, honey. We’ll keep an eye on it.”
Suddenly, the electricity went off with the sound of a sizzle, and two loud crashes sounded from below. What the?
“Sam! Jack! What the hello are you doing?” Mom started racing towards the garage. Lucky for the twins, I pried the knife away first.
2
“Do you know what you’re wearing Friday?”
“Nah.” Crap, I got nail polish on the rug. My mother was gonna pitch a fit. “I don’t even know if I’m going.” Mila had chosen Vamp Vixen Red. Predictable. My nails and toes were Raven, and now there was a big black smudge on the beige rug.
Mila sucked in her breath dramatically. “What do you mean, you’re not gonna go? You have to go!” She fixed her little lips into a pout and tossed her curly dark hair to the side. “We’ve been waiting for like forever to go to a high school dance, and this is the first of the year. It’s like mandatory, Callie.” She stood up, waving her hands in the air to dry her nails. “You. R. Going.”
I rolled my eyes at her. So, according to Mila, the first Mackle High Dance was like the social event of the century, but according to me, it was going to be beat. Probably. I mean, the d.j.s would play crap music, it would smell sweaty and be hot in the cafeteria with everybody jumping around and heavy breathing and stuff. Plus, no one really cool was actually going to go to a high school dance anyway, right?
Also,
MY PARENTS WERE CHAPERONES.
“What?!” Now, she was so in my face I could smell her bubble gum breath. “You are so not serious, Callie.”
“I wish I was joking, Mila.” I muttered.
“So humiliating.” She huffed. “So totally, unfair.” She puffed. “I can’t believe they’re doing this to me!”
Shaking my head, I raised my eyebrows. “Believe it.” As if being me wasn’t humiliating enough, I just knew my parents were going to “bust a move” as my dad called it at that dance on Friday. I planned to be off the premises when the whole move busting went down. No way I even wanted to see that stuff. Ew.
“Oh, God, Callie.” Mila grabbed my face with two hands and pulled it towards her panic stricken eyes. “Your mom’s gonna dance, isn’t she?”
I shrugged and pulled my face back. “Who can tell, Mi. You might be safe to go. I mean, they’re related to me, not you.” After seeing my parents break it down on the dance floor, one of two things was going to happen. Either I would be ostracized for life, no boy ever wanting to ask me out for fear of joining forces with that gene pool. Or, every single guy in school would be asking for my number in hopes that my mom would answer the phone when they call. I mean, yes, it’s embarrassing because she’s my mom, but she can really shake her booty, and she is very pretty, and guys are guys. Again… Ew.
“They’re totally gonna rat me out if I do anything fun.” Mila was in toddler in tiara mode, pouting like a pro.
“What did you have planned, Mi?” I snickered. She glared.
“Who knows, but I didn’t plan on having spies there, Cal.”
“Mila, it’s a school dance, not a keg party. It’s not like you’re going to be doing anything especially deviant.”
She flipped her hair again “What’s deviant mean anyways, Callie – Oh, who cares?” Mila grabbed her backpack from the floor and started towards the door. “I gotta go. My mom’s dragging us to her meeting tonight. Gag.” Mila’s mom was part of a support group for divorced parents. “Wish me luck.” She waved bye.