“Yes, sir,” I say, adding a slight apologetic nod as I step aside. For someone who attends church every Sunday like me, he’s not exactly the most personable. Guess I know where Justin gets it.
As I make my way around him, he turns slowly, following my movement without another word.
I’m thankful when the breeze hits my face outside the church doors. It was beginning to feel too crowded in there. I shake off my run-in with Vincent Chase and head toward the car where my mother’s waiting for me. This is the first time I’ve left church feeling unclean. My skin, my hair, my heart. All of it. Even though I’ve battled my faith for so long (because how can a higher power expect a kid like me to do what I do?), I still felt a sense of comfort inside a house of God. Like even though He knew my doubts, He never judged; granting me a peace within myself that kept me at ease. But today, nothing.
By the time I pull into the school parking lot on Monday, several people are running with their umbrellas held high toward the main hall, and the rain is pelting the windshield like a force to be reckoned with. The radio announcer mentions something about an ice storm, but knowing Portland, they’re just exaggerating.
Evan and Trevor jump out of Evan’s black Honda Accord, waiting outside Izzie as I throw the gear into park. I can hear Evan bitch about something regarding the rain and a recent car wash. He cares more about that damn car than anything else. It was given to him on his birthday to make up for all those times his parents neglected him. Some kind of peace offering. His parents went right back to coddling his younger brothers after the fact. He acts like it doesn’t bother him, but… well, you know.
“Dude, why didn’t you pick up your phone all weekend?” Evan asks, pressing the lock button on his key.
Trevor opens his umbrella, carefully holding it over us as I lock up Izzie. I don’t have a special key that does the work for me. Pressing the lock down the old fashioned way, I give the door a hard push.
“Why do you think? I spent the weekend hovering over a toilet.” I give them the just drop it look, and throw my backpack onto my shoulder.
In return, Trevor gives me his I told you so face.
“Don’t, Trevor. Seriously. I feel shitty enough as it is.” It’s true. My stomach is barely back to normal. I can’t even recall the last real meal I had. The thought of food and whiskey makes the spit build up in my mouth, and I’m not too far from hoofing it again.
I leave the perimeter of Trevor’s umbrella and walk at a quick pace up the sidewalk toward school. Getting to class and away from this conversation is suddenly my only focus. I’m more irritable now than ever. Just thinking about what happened this last week with Koren, Redhead, and though unrelated to the Gateway thing, the run-in with Vincent, has me seriously on edge. I’m sick of not knowing what’s happening with my life. I hate losing control. It makes me feel weak, hopeless. And that’s the last thing I am.
Evan falls into rhythm beside me, forcing Trevor to hurry his pace to keep his umbrella over himself and Evan.
“What’s your deal man?” Evan calls me out. “You’re acting like an ass.”
“Evan, don’t,” Trevor warns.
“No, seriously,” Evan continues.
I really wish he’d stop. The more he keeps talking the more something inside of me threatens to react. I’m like a dam about to break. A dam filled to the brim—with uncertainty, frustration, and everything in between.
My legs pick up speed, desperate to stretch the space between us. Something inside is telling me to go, to hurry. A warning blaring in my head to get the hell away from them. I can feel it tightening in my chest; a string of a guitar wound so tight, one more churn and snap!
“Hey!” Evan catches up to me and grabs my arm tight.
It’s at this exact moment I know I’ve lost control of everything.
My body ignites with an unbearable heat. The rush of it surges through me like a forest fire, devastating and powerful. It’s the same urge that came alive that night with Redhead. The one that destroyed her, and the same one that made me feel more alive than ever.
I turn on Evan before I can force myself to stop, and dig my fingers into his jacket, wrenching him forward. “Don’t you ever touch me like that again. Do you understand?”
“Dude!”
“Don’t.” The word is nearly a growl. His face is only centimeters from mine.
The first bell rings, leaving us stranded in the plaza as the other students hurry to their classes. A sliver of heat trickles down my neck, pushing through my veins. It travels to my spine, spilling into my arms. I curl my other hand into a tight fist, holding it securely in place. I’m trying so hard to fight back the blood that’s threatening to boil over, afraid of what that might mean for me, or what I might do. My gift has never had any effect on the living, but nothing is certain anymore.
I feel a disconnection from myself. Suddenly there are two parts of me. One is screaming at me, telling me to stop. But the other is demanding it, begging for me to make the move. Make Evan bleed. It’s so twisted and frightening, so exhilarating and vigorous. This is so wrong. So wrong.
I release my grip from his jacket, allowing Evan to cower back. He watches me intently as one arm protectively stretches across Trevor’s chest. Trevor’s round eyes set with concern, and Evan’s scowl staring back at me, say everything I need to know. They’re afraid of me.
I reach a hand to my face, feeling for something I can’t see—a change. Something reflecting the monster inside me. My fingers brush against my skin, and I half expect to feel someone else’s face under them. But it’s only me. For now.
The rain pelting down cools my burning skin. My limbs are cold under my drenched clothes, triggering a calmness that courses through me. I can feel the heat disperse, settling itself deep into my subconscious where it waits to be of use.
Somehow I know it will come back, because like the Bleeders, this thing has left a part of itself with me. It’s become me.
I’m unable to meet my friends’ eyes, too ashamed of nearly losing control. All the strength I had two seconds ago is gone, and I’m me again. Weak and hopeless after all.
“I’m sorry.” I turn away and walk into the main hall, not bothering to look back. I know they’re not following. Wouldn’t expect them to.
At this point, I’m starting to think it would be better, safer, if they didn’t.
As I walk away from Trevor and Evan, I find myself overcome with emotion. Guilt and fear are becoming all too familiar to me. They eat at me like rabid wolves, gnawing and ripping me apart from the inside out. I’m uncomfortable in my own skin, as if it has somehow tightened and reformed. Whatever this thing is, it’s not me.
I’m troubled by how little I know about myself these days. I’ve become a stranger to myself and everyone I know. The only thing keeping me together is the thought that Koren is out there somewhere, waiting for me to find her. It’s all I have to hold on to. Without that, I’m left to face what’s becoming of me, and I’m not ready to dig that deep yet.
The squeak of my sloshing shoes echoes down the hall. I’m trembling so bad, it would be ridiculous for me to stay in these clothes. Evan and Trevor’s expressions are forever trapped in my mind. I wonder if I turn around right now, if they would still be there. Maybe I could apologize again. A real one this time. I could fix this. I need to fix this.
A screech from the last bell pierces my ears, leaving me standing in an empty hall, facing the door of trigonometry. It’s too late to turn back now. I can hear Mrs. Kingsley bringing the class to attention, beginning the Morning Prayer. It’s looked down upon to miss it, but more so to barge in late and interrupt. As much as it kills me to stay in place doing nothing—nothing to fix what I’d done—I stand there and wait.
After the class says together: amen, I turn the knob and enter.
It must be written on my face, because the look Mrs. Kingsley gives me is more out of worry than frustration. I don’t know how I look to her, but I know I feel like u
tter shit. How will I make this up to Evan after lashing out on him like that?
I open my mouth to apologize, but she dismisses me before I have a chance.
“Have a seat, Aiden.” Mrs. Kingsley gestures toward my desk, and I’m thankful.
With a gentle nod, I keep my head down and pass the front of the class toward the back corner. She continues introducing her lecture as I slide into my seat, my cold clothes pressing uncomfortably against my skin. Looks like I’ll have to wear my gym clothes the rest of the day.
I can still feel eyes on me as I reach into my backpack and remove my folder, trying to avoid their stares. A shiver prickles my neck, but I ignore it. It’s only my skin reacting to the drastic temperature and it doesn’t help that the vent above me is blasting cold air in my direction. Hasn’t this school ever heard of heat?
I rub my palms together, hoping the friction will bring me some sense of relief.
“You look like hell,” a voice says beside me.
My ears perk at the sound.
I can’t do this. Not now. Not here.
I force myself in place, keeping my head in the direction of Mrs. Kingsley. If I give myself away, I’ll be called a freak all over again. This was a constant test, being confronted by a Bleeder in class in front of so many people. Even though the urge to acknowledge her is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt.
My fingers claw into my legs, digging deep in hopes that the pain will wake me from this nightmare. I have to be asleep somewhere, because the voice behind me can’t be real. It can’t be that easy.
“Did you miss me?” she whispers. I can almost feel her cold breath against my neck, tingling the hair along my nape.
More than you know, I want to tell her.
Just the thought of her words carries so much emotion. Did you miss me, she used to say, throwing her arms around my waist from behind. She did this every morning during middle school. Blessing me with the warmth of her skin. The touch of her body against mine making my heart do funny things in my chest. It’s as if the night before was too long without each other, and she felt the same emptiness I did when she was away. Those days, I used to wish her arms would make a permanent home there, wrapped tightly around me. Her embrace was everything I needed and wanted in one.
Mrs. Kingsley jots an equation on the board, pointing to x and then to y. Her words are nothing but dead air, as if someone has placed her and the entire class on mute. I can’t hear anything but the voice directly beside me.
“Aiden,” she says, begging for my attention.
I should tell her to meet me, to wait outside until class is over. But I worry that if I turn her away now, I’ll never be able to see her again. This could be my only chance.
I turn to her, but I barely get a chance to look before the room comes to a halt.
“Koren Banks,” Mrs. Kingsley snaps. “I realize you are anxious to talk to Mr. Ortiz, being back to school and all, but I must ask you to wait until my lesson is over.” The wrinkles of her face set with agitation as she waits for Koren to respond.
Respond. She can see Koren?
I glance at all the faces staring in my direction. No. Not my direction. At Koren.
Forgetting the urge to hold my ground, I look with everyone else.
There she is… alive.
Her dark blonde hair cascades over her shoulders in waves, framing the perfect contours of her heart-shaped face. Over the time that she’d been gone, her skin paled as if wherever she was hid her from the glow of the sun. There’s no longer a rosiness to her cheeks, and the flush of her lips barely touches on a shade of pink. She’s different in ways that most people wouldn’t think to consider, but when you’re me, looking at Koren, you see everything. But one thing that remains the same are her initials taking shape along the corner of her desk, exactly like before.
Koren stares back at Mrs. Kingsley, unblinking, until finally, with a simple grin on her face, she looks towards me.
With her pale, smooth skin, and those blue eyes I know so well, she says, “Hello, Aiden.”
ou look surprised to see me,” she says after class, as I walk beside her in awe.
What do I say? It’s no big deal. I just thought the one girl I’ve known my whole life was dead. But what did I really know? I’d seen her in the plaza, yes. It was raining hard that day, and my vision did seem a little off, at least I think it was. Even so, why didn’t she say anything then? Or the night of the food drive. Not that I was exactly at my best.
“I… you… I don’t know what to say.” Smooth. Real smooth.
She smiles at me again and I suck in a breath, nearly choking on my own oxygen.
“Is that why you ignored me in the plaza? Because you don’t know what to say.” Koren comes to a stop at her locker and watches me as I recover.
“So, that was you?” How could that be? I was so sure she was one of them. Even now, her skin isn’t as vibrant as before, but she’s real. Everyone proves that with their prying eyes as they pass through the halls, watching us like they’re onlookers of a car crash.
She nods, her eyes widening innocently. She doesn’t appear at all put out by the attention she’s getting. “I was enrolling that day.”
“And the food drive?”
“Yep. I watched you face-plant.” Koren attempts and fails to stifle a laugh.
My cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Perfect,” I groan.
She turns away, working the dial on her lock and popping open her locker. I watch as she changes out her books. The act seems normal and routine, like she’s been here all along.
“You do realize you’ve been missing for the last seven months, right?” It practically blurts out of my mouth.
Her body stiffens. “Missing.” The word drifts along her lips as if she’s contemplating its meaning.
I want to punch myself for being insensitive. For all I know, she could have suffered some traumatic event while she’s been gone, and here I am throwing it back in her face. All to find out where she’s been, and how she could have left without as much as a note.
But I can’t stop myself from being selfish, from asking her this: “Why didn’t you tell me?”
The chaos of slamming lockers and shuffling feet begins to fade out around us. Koren and I remain, staring at each other in a moment of pure silence. She looks so vulnerable now. A stray strand from her bangs falls over her eye, and with a delicate, pale finger, she tucks it in place without breaking her gaze. Her eyes search mine, looking for something. Trust, perhaps? I want to prove to her she can tell me her secrets, even if I’ve never told her mine. Maybe we can still fix this, right here, right now.
I don’t move as she watches me, hoping that whatever it is she’s looking for, she’ll find. She blinks out of her trance, quickly turning away to close her locker. When she looks back, a flicker of change takes effect in that single second, and she’s no longer that vulnerable girl she’d been a moment ago. She’s just Koren.
“See you at lunch, okay?” she says.
Before I can answer, or apologize for what happened between us that night on the porch, she sets off down the hall. Her long stride is one of confidence and certainty, but I can see it’s only masking whatever it is she’s hiding from everyone. From me.
The lights of the theater are bright and all consuming. Now that our skits are complete, the time has come to work on placements for the Christmas performance. All I can think is: Dear Lord, please let me be in charge of the stage this time. Acting as another character I would only portray horribly, meanwhile making a complete ass of myself, is the last thing I want to worry about.
I haven’t seen Evan or Trevor in the halls since this morning. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know they’re avoiding me. Could I really blame them? Words escape me as I make my way down the aisle toward my usual spot in the third row. I’m taken aback when I find the row empty. A sick feeling in my stomach arises, and as much as I hate to be a sap, I’m starting to think that Trevor wants nothi
ng to do with me. After everything I’ve been through, he’s always had my back. His friendship becoming the only one I could truly count on. But this time I can’t deny how bad I screwed up, turning on them like that. Whatever is happening inside of me is breaking me down, destroying me. And I can’t let it win.
I scoot along in silence, searching the rows, until I spot the familiar crop of brown hair combed to suit his perfectionist ways. Trevor sits in the first row at the far edge, the light of his phone glowing against his face. An unexpected nervousness trembles through me. What can I say to make things right? This isn’t another scuffle that can be easily dealt with. He was completely freaked out by me. It was a terror in my friend’s face I never want to see again.
The sound of a game grows louder as I approach. By the way he readjusts slightly, I know he’s on to me.
In a low, but careful voice, I say, “Hey, Trevor.”
He doesn’t budge.
“Listen, man. I’m sorry. I… I don’t know what came over me. You know I would never…” I tuck my thumbs into my pockets and shift my weight from one foot to another. “I would never—”
“I know you wouldn’t.”
My tense shoulders relax with a sigh.
“I’m just going through a lot right now,” I tell him, as if that excuse will fix everything.
“Clearly,” he says, his voice guarded.
I find my way to the seat next to him, careful to keep what little distance I can manage. Expecting him to forgive me just like that is asking a lot. Even I know that. But there’s hope, and if I play it right, he might come through.
“Look, there’s some weird shit going on right now, and I’m kind of having a hard time processing it.”
Trevor’s focus remains on his phone. He’s not interested in what I have to say. But if I know Trevor, there’s only one thing that’ll get his attention.
“Koren’s alive and she’s here, at school.”
The Gateway Through Which They Came Page 6