PANDORA

by Rebecca Hamilton

  Please, I pray, please just help me get through today. Help me find the people I need to make it through the next two years. I hope God is listening as I make my way to homeroom which is short this morning, only fifteen minutes before first period. All our classes are short today as it’s a half day. The desks are filling up quickly by the time I find the room, so I plop into the first one I come to. People stare at me. I expect this. It is a small town and everyone knows everyone else. Panic creeps up my spine and I force it away. I can do this.

  “Hi.”

  I jump, startled. I turn around to say hello. The first thing that comes to mind is the bright warmth of the sun. Her blonde hair blazes around her face, making her petite frame seem taller. Cheerleader is my initial guess. She just looks way to perky. Except for her eyes. Her storm colored gray eyes hold a hint of my own panic. Relief sweeps through me. I’m not the only one having trouble today.

  “Hey,” I smile, or at least hope it resembles a smile. “I’m Alex Reed.”

  “Saidie Walker,” she grins back, her gamine features lighting up. “Can I see your schedule?”

  “Sure.” I hand it over. I keep trying to place her, but can’t remember her from before. Maybe she’d gone to one of the other local junior high schools? The school district did some rezoning a couple years back and consolidated a lot of area schools.

  “I can’t believe it,” she laughs. “It’s almost identical to mine.”

  “Really?”

  “You’ve got French first and study hall seventh,” she nods. “Mine is opposite.”

  “So which school are you from?” I ask, testing my theory.

  “I just moved here a few weeks ago. My mom took the Sheriff’s job that opened up.”

  I’d forgotten about that. Jacob’s Fork is a small town nestled into the southern mountains of West Virginia and nothing ever changes here. The old Sherriff passed away from a heart attack a few months back. They’ve been interviewing people for his position for a while now, but I guess Dad forgot to tell me they filled it. Strange that they would give it to someone not local to the area. It’s never happened in the past.

  “Did you say your name is Alex Reed?”

  I turn around to see a tall girl with ebony colored hair and caramel skin staring at me. She’s frowning just a bit. I know her. Janna Davis. Former tormentor and current reigning Queen Bee of Adam’s High.

  I also know why she’s frowning. I don’t look anything like I used to. Gone is the skinny, knobby kneed twelve-year old and in her place stands someone way better at hiding her insecurities. The braces are gone as well as the ratty hair. Now, my shoulder length sable hair frames my heart shaped face. My eyes are a deep, midnight blue that flares with an odd color no one can ever quite define. I have my mom’s eyes. So does my brother, Jason, for that matter.

  “Yes, and you are?”

  A grin breaks out across her face. She recognizes me. Damn.

  “Now, Alley cat, don’t tell me you don’t remember me? You and I had so much fun together before you went away. Where was that exactly? The fourth floor?”

  My muscles clench up tighter than before. I knew coming here might be bad, but I want a normal life. I have to face these people to get that.

  “Sorry, no, I don’t remember you, and I went to a private school.”

  “That’s what they’re calling the psycho ward these days?” she laughs, her brown eyes alight with malice.

  Several laugh behind her. I’m mortified, but I refuse to let them do this to me again. I am a fighter. I won’t crawl back into a corner and let them beat me this time.

  “No, it’s called having a rich father,” I grin back. “But you wouldn’t know anything about that, now would you?”

  The laughter turns into outraged gasps.

  The bell rings and I stand up. “Then again, if I had been in a psycho ward all these years, making me angry might not be the brightest idea either.”

  I walk out the door.

  My hands shake so badly I can barely pay attention to anything in French. I take the mass of books the teacher gives out and write down the homework assignment, but I keep remembering all the taunts and jeers I suffered from Janna Davis growing up. She made my life a nightmare as a kid all because I was too shy and quiet for her taste.

  The bell rings and pulls me out of my silent misery.

  Now how do I get back to the auditorium? I’m not paying too much attention and walk out of the French room and smack into someone.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry . . . ” I look up into the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. They are strikingly beautiful, but so . . . cold. They make me think of ice cubes burning wet fingers. I can’t help but to stare into them. They look straight through me, however.

  “That’s okay,” he says impatiently. “Is this the French room?”

  “Yeah,” I frown at his tone, ignoring the shiver his voice causes to shudder down my spine.

  He nods curtly and moves around me into the room.

  I blink. Did he just dismiss me? I shake my head and retrace my steps back to the auditorium, thankful we are meeting in there until Monday for gym class. The gym is on the other side of the parking lot—a two minute walk at least. No way do I want to run to class today in the downpour going on outside.

  Finding the auditorium proves easier than I expect. It isn’t far from the French room. I sit down and wait, very aware of everyone else in the room. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle and I get the strangest sensation of someone watching me. The faint smell of honeysuckle surrounds me. Very weird. I want to turn and look, but courage fails me.

  People around me glance my way and I lower my eyes. I want to smile and talk, but I can’t. What if they treat me the same way Janna did? Is it stupid to try and have a normal life? I should have just stayed at Compton Prep. At least there no one bothered me. Everyone knew they were screwed up and we all accepted that. We were psychoanalyzed every minute of every day and made to feel more of a freak than we knew we were, but at least it had been familiar.

  No, I tell myself firmly. It will be different. You’re different. That same sense of the walls closing in on me tries to smother me again. Panic is not good, Alex. Think of something else.

  Green eyes come to mind and I realize how irritated I still am with that boy. I can’t shake it. His rude behavior irks me. Really, did he have to be so arrogant? I’d said I was sorry after all. It’s not like I purposefully walked into him. And besides, he’d bumped into me too. Would it have been so hard for him to step out of the way or to apologize? No. Instead, he’d stared through me like I wasn’t even there. The more I think about it the madder I get. Stupid boy.

  I laugh silently then. Here I am terrified of the people in my past and someone I’ve never met before is getting me riled up. Very bizarre.

  “Hi,” Saidie mumbles and falls into the seat beside me. “I almost never got back down here. I had to go all the way up to the fourth floor and guess what? It’s a freshman study hall!”

  I stare at her, not sure what to say. She’s still talking to me after the whole scene she’d seen this morning?

  She looks up and laughs at my nonplussed expression. “Mental hospital, huh?”

  “No,” I smile hesitantly. “I really was in a private school.”

  “So why are you here if you were in a private school?”

  “Facing my demons,” I sigh.

  She quirks an eyebrow at me.

  “Long story.” I shift in my seat. It isn’t something I want to go into. I don’t know Saidie well enough to spill my secrets. It’s a miracle she’s still talking to me, so no way am I dumping my past on her. “Freshman study hall?”

  “Oh My God,” she sighs dramatically. “I have to get out of there by tomorrow. One guy just stared at me the whole time, totally creeped me out.”

  The teacher interrupts us and starts in with his rules. I zone out momentarily as a strange feeling overcomes me. My back stiffens up and the hair on my arms stands on en
d. I feel the nerve endings in my body come to attention. I have the need to stretch, to run, to move closer to some unknown force that keeps pulling at me to turn and search it out. I’ve never felt like this and it scares me.

  “So what’s next?” Saidie’s question brings me back to reality. I take a deep breath and try to focus.

  “American history for me,” the boy behind us drawls. His low, rough voice is full of country charm.

  My muscles stiffen at the sound. His voice . . . I know it.

  “Us too,” Saidie said. “I’m Saidie and this is Alex.”

  “Morgan Chandler.”

  I turn to look at him as he checks the messages on his phone. Toffee colored hair frames a face given to smiling. He peeks up at me and winks, his cobalt blue eyes sparkling with laughter. I’m a bit taken aback, not used to anyone winking at me and I can’t help but to grin back—a reflex response maybe?

  His easy smile makes a sort of peace settle over me and some of the panic I’ve felt all morning washes away in its glow. He feels . . . familiar to me, like I have known him forever, but that doesn’t make sense. His smile fades as we look at each other. He seems as caught in my gaze as I am in his. Does he have the same strange feeling he knows me too?

  The urge to reach out and take his hand grips me. I have this sudden and insane need to touch him. He stares at me, his gaze uncertain and I swear I can smell wet grass after a fresh rain. His own eyes widen and we both come out of some weird kind of stupor when Saidie mumbles something about needing her phone.

  I blink. That’s it. I have officially cracked. The stress has finally gotten to me. No one smells like wet grass. Get a grip, Alex.

  “Where did all of those come from?” he asks, pointing to my small mountain of books. His smile is back in place, if a little forced.

  “French class.”

  He frowns. “I have it fourth.”

  “What school are you from?” I ask abruptly. Where do I know him from?

  “Cleeton Junior High,” he says and reaches up to cover my mouth with his hand. “Don’t you dare laugh!”

  “What?” Saidie looks from one to the other of us.

  He pulls his hand away and I laugh. I can’t help it. “War.”

  “Hey, don’t knock the name. It comes in handy during football season. Think about the banners—You’re at WAR with the Fighting Eagles.”

  “I don’t get it.” Saidie looks confused.

  “He’s from the town of War,” I tell her.

  “And just where are you from?” he fires back.

  “Rosewood,” I answer promptly.

  “HA! Rosewood is a tiny community. It’s not even a town, darlin’. You have no room to talk.”

  Saidie shakes her head and laughs at us. Morgan and I join in. She has such an open, honest laugh it’s hard not to laugh with her.

  We all jump at the sound of the bell.

  “I’m going to hate that thing before the end of the day,” Saidie grumbles.

  “I already do,” Morgan and I answer in unison.

  Laughing, Morgan takes two of my books, easy as you please, and leads us out the door. I frown at his back.

  Why does he feel so familiar to me?

  Chapter 2

  The next two classes fly by and I go with Saidie to the guidance office during our half hour lunch to see if she can get her study hall changed. By the time we leave Mr. Moore’s office, her schedule is identical to mine, and she can start it tomorrow. I am amazed at how quickly the time is passing. It’s a short day and being around Saidie seems to be relaxing me. The stares and whispers have started already, though. I’ve caught bits and snatches of conversation as we walk through the halls. Saidie pays it no mind, for which I’m grateful. It’s nice to have at least one person who doesn’t think I am some kind of nut case even if I am.

  Fifth period Calculus is the worst class so far. Our teacher, Mr. Rawlings, who has to be channeling the ghost of Hitler, is terrible. He reminds me of that teacher in the cartoon about the kid with the fairies. He looks just like him, right down to the black, wide framed glasses and is just as unpleasant. He goes on and on about rules and if there is a violation of those rules, especially tardiness to his class, we can march ourselves to the office and explain to Mr. Crouse why we can’t get to class on time. I had some strict teachers at Compton Prep, but none quite this bad. Plus I caught him staring at me twice. Creepy little man.

  Morgan is in the desk across from me. He keeps watching me with an odd expression on his face. Strangely, I am not unnerved by his stare, it feels comforting. What bothers me is the stare from the green eyed boy I’d run into this morning. I’d noticed him as soon as he came in and sat down behind me. Seriously, how could a person not notice him? He defines the word gorgeous. He’s sin walking. His hair is even blacker than the coal McDowell County is famous for and when the light hits it, blue highlights peek out from the obsidian depths.

  “Hello,” he says quietly.

  His voice wraps around me, causing little shivers to run down my spine. I turn to look at him. It’s not like I can avoid it anymore since he is speaking to me. It’s bizarre, but there’s something in his voice that compels me to turn and look at him. It feels like I have no choice. My gaze comes to rest on his face and my mouth goes dry. Good Lord, those eyes.

  I hate to admit it, even to myself, but his eyes fascinate me. Problem is, he stares at me with an intensity that more than unnerves me. It scares me a little bit.

  “I’m Devon Cameron,” he says, a slight accent in his voice, his eyes fixed on mine. I glance away first, nervous. I can feel my face start to flood with heat. I try to focus on anything but him.

  Saidie makes introductions, but I don’t pay attention. I can hear him tell her he has English and study hall next, same as us, but it takes all of my concentration just to keep from squirming under Devon’s unwavering gaze. Why is he staring at me? The old urge to fade away and be invisible almost overwhelms me.

  Almost.

  This is ridiculous. He’s just a boy. A gorgeous boy, mind you, but still just a boy. I glance up to see Saidie grinning in obvious enjoyment over my discomfort. I glare at her. She smiles wider.

  Devon follows us to English.

  I spend the rest of the class trying to ignore him which proves to be impossible since he claims the seat behind me and I can feel him staring at me. I sigh and swear I hear him laugh, but when I look, the same bored expression is on his face as when we entered the room.

  I should find his attention creepy, but I don’t. His stares are a bit unnerving, but only because it makes my heart jump wildly and my stomach flutter. It’s something I’ve never felt before and it makes me nervous.

  I get no relief in study hall either. The tables are round and he takes a seat directly across from me. Morgan takes the seat next to me. A boy parks himself beside Devon and grins rakishly at me. His hair is as black as Devon’s but his violet eyes are a stark contrast to his raven locks. They are not some off shade of blue, but a deep, pure shade of purple. I can’t help but to stare at them. I’ve never seen eyes that color.

  “His eyes are pretty freaky,” Morgan laughs at my expression. “What’s up, man?”

  “Well, you seem to have found an absolutely gorgeous creature, Morgan, so I had to come introduce myself. I didn’t get the chance earlier.”

  He thinks I’m gorgeous? No one has ever told me this before. It makes me smile.

  Devon glares at him. The boy pays him no mind. “I’m Connor McCullough.”

  “I’m Alex.” My eyes are on Devon as I speak, he is staring at me again. His eyes lock on mine. I am powerless to pull away and I don’t really want to. Good Lord, a person could drown in those emerald depths.

  He smiles, a slow insolent smile that causes my heart to speed up.

  There is a little tittering of laughter from the left side of the room and I glance over to see Janna and two of her cohorts engrossed in whatever they are looking at on her phone. She looks up an
d gives me that slow smile of hers that promises pain. Why does she have to be here now?

  She stands up and saunters to our table. “Hello, Alley Cat. Still having memory loss or is that a side effect of the meds?”

  “Meds?” Connor frowns.

  “Alley Cat didn’t tell you, Connor?” she purrs. “She just got released from the psychiatric hospital up in Morgantown.”

  Morgan throws an arm around my shoulders and hauls me closer. His warmth spreads through me, chasing away the panic, the dread, and the fear. I feel calm and relaxed, almost instantly. He has the strangest effect on me.

  Instead of running, I lean into Morgan and smile up at her. “You know the thing about meds, Janna, is that if you forget to take even one dose, they stop working. Since you’re so convinced I’m on them, I wonder what would happen if I just skipped a dose? I did hear someone say I had severe anger issues. I guess I could snap if someone got in my face, might even hurt them.”

  “She’s got a point,” Connor agrees. “If it were me, I know I’d not be doing anything to upset her.”

  Janna frowns, aware her tactics don’t seem to be working. None of the people sitting at the table are running away from me like they have a fire chasing their heels.

  “Run along now,” Connor tells her. “We have better things to talk about than gossip.”

  She glares at him. He grins back, his smile so cocky I laugh. Janna’s eyes narrow and I know she’ll redouble her efforts to make me look bad, but for the moment she stalks back to her own table.

  “So you were in a mental institute?” Connor leans forward. “Cool. You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

  His eyes are full of laughter and warmth. He honestly doesn’t care if I am insane. I think he actually thinks it is kind of cool.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but I was in a private school for the last five years.”

  He pouts. “Really? No crazy insane stories to tell me about the psycho ward?”

  “Nope, not a one.”

  He seems very put out with me over that and I find myself laughing. It feels so good to laugh. I haven’t laughed this much since before The Event.