Approaching the actual stop, I saw Will’s feet shifting his weight back and forth quickly. In spite of seeing him ahead of me, or rather his feet since I hadn’t been able to raise my eyes to greet him, I continued my slow progression, deliberating on how I would explain my worse-than-normal attitude and hair.
“Hey,” I mumbled when I got close enough for him to hear me.
He looked me over quickly before saying, “Oh, hey. You look awful! Your brothers sabotage your morning again? By the way, nice hat. Did you dye your hair purple or something?” He raised his brow and tilted his head, trying to get a better look at what I was hiding. I pushed my hat down further and stuffed my unruly hair back under its protective covering.
Although I knew his remark wasn’t intended to hurt me, it did, and my knee-jerk reaction was to snap back. “That’s a bit harsh, and no I didn’t. You’re mom pick out your shirt?” From the corner of my eye, I saw him grimace. Immediately feeling sorry, I shifted my weight and kicked a rock. “Sorry, your shirt’s actually kinda nice.” Having let my backpack slip, I pulled it back up with a sigh and looked my friend in the eye. “I’m not really in the mood to talk about it, though.” My free hand circled my head as I spoke, then I shrugged, hoping he would understand. “You seem kind of bothered this morning, too. Care to share?” It seemed the best defense was a good offense this morning because Will straightened up like a fence post when I asked what his problem was.
He looked at me again, this time with confusion in his eyes before proceeding. “Huh, nothing really. Well, nothing I can explain right now. I have to do some research before I can tell you what’s going on.”
“Whatever, Mr. Cryptic.” I kicked his foot gently and gave him my patented smirk. He smiled in return, but it was less than enthusiastic and bordered on pained. “Hey, did you hear about the career fair the school is holding next week? My dad was invited to speak. I wonder if it’s just for upper classmen.”
“Oh?”
Clearly, this was going to be much more difficult than I had hoped. Swallowing my annoyance with his monosyllabic response, I added, “Yeah, they might even have an archaeology booth from K-State there. That would be cool.”
Archaeology was an interest that Will and I had in common, but it didn’t seem to be a viable point of discussion this morning.
“Huh,” he stated before furrowing his brow.
Jeez, I might as well just tough out another ten minutes of silence. It had to be considerably better than trying to carry on a conversation with my best friend. Whatever was going on in his head this morning was clearly impeding his ability to give more than one-word answers, and that was just plain annoying.
Waiting here without talking while I tried to force the image of my morning out of my head did give me time to mull over one of the few exciting prospects in my near future. My birthday was a few months away and I would be sixteen. I had spent the summer working, helping my dad at the ranch. I had been able to save some money from my summer job, and I intended to use it to buy my first car. My options were limited at best, but anything was better than waiting here every day, rain or shine, for a bus that smelled a bit like rotten lunchmeat and sweaty socks. I would also be able to use my newfound freedom to save Will from the same fate. His birthday wasn’t till next summer. Time ticked by slowly, and just before I broke down and started the conversation game again, we heard the rumble of the bus’s engine.
Another bonus to having my own car was avoiding late arrival to school. The bus always arrived after everyone else, and the popular kids loved to line up outside the front door of the school. They were led by one Miss Lacy Bleu. She and her friends and would make fun of the “losers” as they walked up the sidewalk. Even blessed as I was with a never-ending imagination—salve for the assaulted mind, my mom would say—I could never make that walk any less miserable.
Before I knew it, the bus had stopped, and Will and I reluctantly stumbled up the stairs and found our normal spots at the back.
I cringed as I thought of all the cool kids that would be lined up waiting for us. Given the fact that I looked like I was waiting for a snowstorm from the neck up, their remarks were likely to be quite creative, but I was sure I would hear plenty of the old standbys and that sent a shiver down my back. My hands began to sweat, my heart raced, and it felt like my small breakfast had become a one hundred pound weight in my stomach.
Ugh, my mortification is imminent. How dramatic and high-schoolish can I get?
As the bus pulled around the drive and stopped in front of the school, I sank into my seat trying to become one with the rigid pleather back.
No one will miss me if I just don’t get off the bus, right?
Wrong. Crap, time to face the firing squad. Will and I shuffled off the bus with far less enthusiasm than we had getting on, if that was possible. We still weren’t talking as we made our way to the doors of the school. As I’d expected, my hat was more than noticeable and the gathered “populazzi” began throwing a myriad of crude comments my way.
“Hey, Catherine! I didn’t realize you could up your freak status but that hat took you straight to the top.” Lacy Bleu herself had decided to pull out her best material, it seemed. “I think I’ll refer to you as queen freak now.” Her cackling laughter was followed by a chant of “queen freak” by some half dozen students and seemed to echo through my head as I fought fresh tears.
With her harsh words all thoughts of making this the year I broke out of my shell were gone for good. Rather than giving in to the need to break down again, I plastered my most “serene” look across my face and decided to hold my head high until I made it through the door and to my locker. Of course the taunts didn’t stop with the closing of the door, each one bringing my head lower on my shoulders. By the time I’d made it to the hall my locker was in I nearly sprinted to sandwich myself between the pillar on one side and Will’s locker on the other. I’d never been happier for having the forethought to attend enrollment with him. It seemed that the walls were conspiring against my wish to be free of them, and I could feel their hard comfort pulling me back: wallflower I was to remain.
Will and I didn’t talk much while we unloaded our bags, literally throwing our books into our lockers. Even the exact date of the career fair couldn’t put a ray of sunshine into my painfully gloomy morning.
At lunch, a time usually taken up with useless chatter about how many times we fell asleep in Sociology while picking at the not-so-appetizing cafeteria food, I was more miserable than ever. The news of my new “look” had spread throughout our hallowed halls and everyone had to get a peek.
The hat I’d chosen brought more undesired attention to me than if I’d left it off in favor of the flame effect I had witnessed in my room this morning. Now all I really wanted to do was go home and cry, or eat and cry. Crying figured into my dream of wallowing in self-pity in one way or another, that was for sure.
After lunch, I escaped to the bathroom, seeking asylum in one of the stalls and relief for my itchy head. After scratching my scalp for as long as I could without causing pain, or drawing blood, I peeked out of the stall. Satisfied that I was alone in the bathroom, I sneaked out to look at my hair in the dull light. I half expected to still see flames radiating in every direction, but that wasn’t the case and relief washed over me in waves. My hair was more red than it had ever been, which seemed curious but not bizarre like the occurrence earlier that morning.
There was little time to contemplate the new development before my next period started. I slammed the hat back on my head, detesting the accompanying flop of the ball that sat squarely on top, and exited the bathroom feeling worse than I had when I came in.
How was that possible?
Rounding the corner to my locker, I remembered that Will and I had a free period after lunch. That morning we had agreed to meet in the library. If I was lucky he would be in a better
mood, or at least willing to share what had upset him, so that I could stop feeling like a total outcast. When you only have one friend and even they won’t talk to you, it sends what little ego you have plummeting toward the depths of angsty despair.
Glancing around the library, I found Will already pouring over the assignments he had been given. A lengthy reading list he needed for his college prep English class was sitting beside the rather large book he was engrossed in. I sat down at the table with a little more noise than was necessary and did my best to stare daggers in his general direction. He shot me a look closely resembling the one he had given me this morning at the bus stop when I unceremoniously asked him what was wrong.
This free time is going to be as much fun as this morning... yay me!
We made it through the entire hour without speaking a single word to one another. I wondered if this was anything like hell; it couldn’t be much worse. Before I could get up the courage to ask him, the bell rang and we both started gathering our things. I fought back the bitter sting of tears. I had hoped my free period would be an oasis in the middle of my disastrous day. Instead, it simply amplified the overwhelming dread that filled every hour.
The last half of the day dragged along with agonizing slowness until the final bell rang. It took less than a second for the sound to register before I shot out of my seat and ran to my locker. My horrible day would be over the minute my back end touched down on the pleather seat of the bus. Ahhhhh... the thought was wonderful.
I stuffed every last book I had into my bag and waited impatiently for Will to do the same. If I had to make the walk of shame again today, I wasn’t going to do it alone. Mercifully, Will seemed to be in better spirits when we reached the bus and finally initiated conversation.
“So, uh, sorry I was such a pain today.” His tone had improved from earlier, which made me feel just a tad lighter myself.
Funny, was today’s lack of conversation as painful for him as it had been for me?
“It’s okay. I guess my expectations for today were a little too high. Something was bound to go wrong. Are you feeling better? I mean, you said you didn’t want to talk about it earlier, but you seem better now.”
“Yeah, I did a little research during English and free period. I had a really weird dream last night, and I wanted to see what it meant. Not that I believe in that sort of thing, but there was something really strange about it.” The way he said that put me on edge. I, too, knew a lot about strange dreams.
“Really? So, what was it about? Unless you still don’t want to talk about it,” I said, biting back a frown.
“Just don’t freak out, okay?” I nodded my head, and he took it as a sign to continue. “It was about you. Actually, I think it was about you, and that’s what makes it so strange. There was this big white house on a hill and a little girl on a swing who had your eyes, but her hair was the wrong color. Anyway, this gray thing... I don’t know, maybe a person? It came and talked to her, and she looked scared, but when he held out his hand, she took it and walked away with him. Although, I got the feeling they actually evaporated or something because they were there and then just gone. It felt so real and scary that I woke up sweating. I didn’t want to tell you this morning because I thought it would scare you, too, and it was the first day of school and...”
I had stopped listening after he mentioned the girl. He had dreamed the same dream I had been having for years, only he had seen what happened to the girl. I was completely lost in my thoughts when he broke my concentration by waving his hands so close to my face that they blurred.
“Hey! Hellooo, are you listening to me? Jeez, what is up with you today? You’re acting even stranger than normal, Cat. I did some dream interpretation stuff, and it mentioned a fear of loss. Pretty generic stuff, really.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“Sorry.” I cleared my throat and sighed. “Uh, Will, it’s your turn not to freak out.” Will’s eyebrows rose comically and I smothered a nervous giggle before continuing, “Yeah, that dream, um, I’ve been having that same dream every night since I was five.”
“Cat, I know we’re good friends, but I think even I can say we’re spending too much time together if we’re sharing dreams.” He smiled, but his eyes betrayed him and showed how upset this knowledge made him.
“Will, don’t be so dramatic. I mean, I don’t even know if it means anything. The dream almost seems like a warning. Maybe the fact that you’re having it just has something to do with your little gift.” Rubbing my eyes I let my shoulders relax. “I’m lost really, but when Aunt Lucie gets here, I’m going to ask her what she thinks. You know how she is with dream interpretation and all that crazy stuff. It’s almost eerie that you had it, too, you know?” I was aware that he was trying to talk to me, but I couldn’t stop running through everything in my head.
Will and I having the same dream was not strange; it was downright frightening, and I hated that he had to experience some of the fear I had come to associate with those images. At least now I had a little more insight into what it was about. Fearing his decline into silence again, I decided to tune back into our conversation. It was nice to hear Will’s voice anyway, especially after such a crappy day, that I tried to stay focused on him rather than that blasted dream.
“Seriously! That is so cool, in a warped, Twilight Zone kind of way. Yeah, I wonder if it’s an added perk of my clairvoyant thing? Do you think your Aunt Lucie will really be able to help? I know she’s weird like that, but this might even be a little too freaky for her, you know?” Will asked.
All I knew was that my best friend and I were having the same nightmare, and the only people who could possibly help were my mom and my aunt. I was sure they would at least know where to start.
After that conversation starter, I couldn’t get Will to shut up, which was probably a blessing because the topic turned to the horrible day he had, and it allowed me the chance to be Catherine again instead of the freak. Of course, our days were horrible for completely different reasons. As a matter of fact, I was sure they couldn’t get more different. Mine was obvious: the hat, the fatal disease I must have that was messing with my hair, and the lack of response from my best friend. His wasn’t so obvious because only someone who never looked in the mirror would be unaware of the reason Carissa Clark followed him around with puppy dog eyes; she had a crush on him the size of the Grand Canyon.
Honestly, were all smart guys this dense?
Since the middle of the summer, several girls, most of whom were dedicated populazzi, had taken to calling him and staking out the grocery store where he worked. He’d become quite adept at dodging the girls by way of sneaking into the store and telling his mother that unless it was me on the phone he wasn’t home. It didn’t, however, stop the girls from searching him out. Female members of the populazzi were bad enough when they were on a mission to render someone a social outcast, but when they set their sights on a cute guy, it was like a shiver of sharks circling a lone seal in the ocean: inescapable. I found it extremely funny, but Will was mortified. My best friend did not know how to handle his budding gorgeousness in any way. He had transformed from a gangly boy to a tall, dark, and handsome teenager. At six feet tall, with clean-cut auburn hair and newfound bulging biceps, he was the new “it” boy, the metaphoric “seal.” Part of me did pity him because the attention was one hundred percent unwanted and the pursuers were equally as brutal in their chase.
Anyway, today Carissa had beaten Shari Hamilton to the punch and made her claim on him. After our free period, she had chased Will into his Chemistry class and all but yelled her intentions at him. He was so embarrassed that he nearly called his mom to come take him home. Feeling sorry for him was definitely hard, especially when I had garnered the exact opposite reaction from the populazzi, but he was my friend and showing him some pity was the least I could do.
Unlike this morning, and most of the day r
eally, time flew by and before Will was finished regaling me with the remainder of his “unfortunate” day, we were at our stop. The narrow dirt lane that led home was a welcome sight. After a quick good-bye, I started for my little piece of quiet.
As a child, I had always gravitated to one of the larger trees that grew near our house. My dad eventually built a seat around it and let me hang wind chimes from the lower branches. It was days like today that made me happy to have that wonderful tree with the tinkling shapes in it. I threw my book bag toward the front steps and plopped down on the narrow seat around the tree. Reaching up, I took off the cause of some of my angst: the hideous stocking cap. Begrudgingly worn and thoroughly detested, it was quickly tossed in the same general direction. I lay down, curving my body toward the tree and listened, content to let the sounds and warm sun melt away my bad mood. The wind was light, so the chimes only made the faintest of sounds. The gentle plinking of the glass chimes and the ping of the metal ones combined with the swooshing of the leaves. They created a comforting melody that relaxed me entirely, helping sleep come before I was even aware I was fading.
Just as swiftly as I was lulled to sleep, I was wrenched from it. I sat bolt upright. Sweat poured off of me, and I panted like I had run a mile. Realizing what ripped me from my comfortable and warm slumber, I cursed its power over me: the dream, again. It couldn’t wait for Aunt Lucie; I had to ask mom, and now before it occurred again. The house seemed a million miles away as I shook off the frightening images, but I couldn’t avoid the dream any longer. Standing up too fast, I swayed slightly before gaining my balance and then raced to grab my hat and bag as I headed for the door. I made it to the front porch in record time and pushed the front door open. “Mom? Mom, where are you?”
A Banshee's Tale Page 2