The Bridge Over Snake Creek

by Nikki Bolvair

  I glanced down at the card, curious, and turned it over. It wasn’t a phone number on the back but a message. A shiver raced along my spine and I stiffened, reading what it said.

  The feeling of stinging bees and a silver mark that won’t go away. Call me. I have answers.

  Cass’s face crinkled in concern. “Whoa.”

  “Do you know that that means?” Novalee asked, peering over my shoulder to read it.

  “No,” I lied, glancing around trying to find her once again. No one could, right? “Did you see where they went?”

  I started toward the restroom as my thoughts raced. Didn’t she say something about her baby giving her an upset stomach?

  “They didn’t flush themselves down the toilet to go to headquarters,” Novalee joked. “You have Carly’s number if you want to talk to her and you know where she works. If you have questions, you can ask them later. Let's get to the movie.”

  Not wanting to give up, but knowing she was right, I followed them into the theater that was showing our movie. It didn’t mean my thoughts weren’t going a mile a minute. Carly seemed to think she had answers as to why I was the way I was.

  I was different. My unusual affinity for speed, lack of fear at thrills, and that silver tattoo burned into my hip all set me apart. The mark had felt like stinging bees when it appeared. And the way she put it so plainly made me wonder if she had gone through that as well. Was there a cure for my sickness? I didn't know, but I was going to find out.

  After much aggravation, I wasn't able to get much out of my so-called friends about Carly. We were in the middle of watching a movie after all. But my palms itched and my feet tapped with urgency and the need to find answers.

  After the movie was over, I practically bolted out of my seat, urging them to hurry. Novalee promised to stop by The Center for the Arts and see if I could find out any information on Carly, but as we arrived, the parking lot was empty. I could tell that I wasn’t going to get answers here tonight. Even with that knowledge, I got out of the car when Novalee parked, and I went up to the doors in a hopeless endeavor to see if they were open. Locked.

  When I got back in the car Cass turned around from the passenger seat and gave me an encouraging smile. “Don't worry; there's always tomorrow.”

  “She’s right,” Novalee added, pulling out of the parking spot. “And if you’re brave enough, you could always ask Beth or Serena.”

  I twisted in my seat to look out the window, biting my lip. After the pinch, I drew my lip away from my teeth and sighed. “Thanks guys. For helping me.”

  “Sure!” Novalee exclaimed. “We're just as curious as you are about the note.”

  “It was an unusual thing to say,” Cass added.

  “Yeah,” I reluctantly agreed, sinking further down into my seat when I realized what their curiosity could also uncover. “Unusual.” I drew out my phone and sent a text to Trace.

  Hannah: Some weird shit is going down here. Call me.

  The night sky was twinkling with stars when we took Cass home and pulled back into Novalee’s drive. From there, I quickly said goodbye and headed across the street to my own house where my dad's car was parked in the driveway next to mine.

  Once inside, I went to find my dad and felt a knot of nerves in the pit of my stomach about what had happened today and the note from Carly. I thought my dad might have some idea about her. I found him in the office, sitting in his chair at the computer. He swiveled around when he heard my approach and leaned back with a smile. “Did you have fun?”

  I leaned against the door jam and shrugged, changing my mind about bring up Carly. Dad seemed happy, not worried. I didn’t want to change that. “Sure.” That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to tell my ever-worrying father about her and the note. She could have been a relative of my mom's for all I knew. Maybe my grandparents did know about me.

  “And how about school?” His eyes narrowed as he searched my face. “I called and notified them about your restrictions. Did you have any trouble?”

  Apprehension filled me as my spine stiffened. Did he know about my participation in PE? “Nope, no trouble.”

  He gave a sigh. “Good. They need to know those things just in case.”

  I let my body relax. “Yeah-yeah. I know, Dad.”

  “Did you eat dinner?”

  “No, I haven't,” I told him, straightening from the doorjamb and walking over to the recliner that was in the corner of the room. Before sitting down, I picked up Mom’s throw quilt that had been tossed across it then dropped into the leather seat. “Everything went okay today, though. I had no mishaps, my levels were good, and yeah, I did have a good time with Cass and Novalee.”

  I studied him for a moment as I curled the throw around me before asking, “What about you, Dad? Did work go, okay?”

  His lips tilted up in a reassuring smile. “Everything was fine.” Then his smile wavered. “The he-mock clinic called. You have an appointment on Thursday.”

  I drew the quilt tight around me; a sinking feeling filled the pit of my stomach. His eyes followed the movement; I'm sure he was remembering. Losing Mom was hard for both of us. “Back to it then, huh?”

  His eyes flashed with pain before he stood up and walked over to where I sat. “Yeah, sweetheart.” He bent down to kiss my forehead. “Back to it.” My eyes closed as he did this, and a single tear slipped down my cheek. I hated the hematology clinic. He moved away and patted my shoulder. “I’ll go make us some dinner.”

  I kept the throw around my body and snuggled in as he left, tucking my feet underneath and trying to stay strong. I dreaded Thursday.

  ***

  Later that night, Trace called. I didn't want my dad to hear, so I slipped outside before answering.

  “What's going on, babe?” She was worried and had the right to be.

  I leaned against the side of my house looking over to Novalee's. “This town sucks.”

  My best friend chuckled. “And tell me, why do you think that?”

  “Heck, Trace, remember when we looked it up? Nothing weird, right? Small town living, freakin’ rolling hills with no ocean in sight?”

  “Yeah, you fuckin’ complained about being a fish outta water. What the hell's going on? Did your dad finally tell you about your grandparents? Did you meet them?”

  “No, worse. Small town USA just got weirder. They practice plural marriages!”

  “Wait, like those people we see on cable?”

  Knowing who she was talking about, I corrected her. “Not exactly. It’s reversed. One woman to multiple guys. I’ve seen it! And not only tha-”

  “Whoa – whoa - wait a second, like multiple husbands?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, give me a minute.”

  I frowned and straightened as I heard rustling in the background.

  “Trace? What are you doing?”

  “Moving. Prepare yourself my sweet friend, you’re getting a roomie. Two sensual hands, no - no. Three!” She murmured in agreement with herself. “Steamy hot mouths.” She groaned.

  I huffed, annoyed. “Trace.”

  “Mmm, dick heaven.”

  “Trace! This is serious!”

  “Don’t worry,” she said wryly. “I’ll leave you a few.”

  “I’m not worried about that!”

  “Reverse harem, yeah, gotta catch them all.”

  My hand hit my forehead. “Did you just-”

  “I’ll take hot badass men for five, please.”

  I dragged it down my face. “Ugh, nevermind.”

  “So really, what’s the big deal? They have a small town secret. Tell me something new.”

  “A woman came up to me and gave me her card.”

  “Yeah, so? Is she into chicks?”

  “No. She’s an artist and has four guys of her own.”

  “Holy shit. Okay, babe, what did she want?” I could hear the excitement in her tone.

  “Remember why I don’t drink?” Trace got quiet. “Babe, why are you b
ringing that up?”

  “Remember my bruise? She knows about it, Trace. On the back of the card, she had written, ‘The feeling of stinging bees and a silver mark that won’t go away. Call me. I have answers.’ She knows. She knows about me. No one could know about the stinging bees or silver mark. No one, Trace. What should I do?”

  “Hannah, you’re scaring me. Is your bitch ass playin’ with me?”

  “Maybe she could help me? Maybe she knows because she's gone through it too?” I was grasping at straws, anything, to make the hope stay. I needed her to agree I wasn’t going crazy. That there was a possibility I could live.

  Her voice got low. “Hannah, I'm going to say this with all honesty, don’t get your hopes up. This could just be some fraud trying to get your money.” My heart sank. “But it is something to look into. Take a picture of the card, both front and back, and send it to me. I'll do some research before you go all gung-ho and callin’ her.”

  I sagged against the side of the house, relieved that Trace thought there might be hope. “Thank you.”

  She grunted. “Now that I'm going to do this for you, you need to fess up. What did you do?”

  My body straightened as my cheeks bunched up. “What do you mean?” I asked coyly.

  “Shit, it fuckin’ was you! Takin’ a swim, shit. You think I wasn’t gonna find out? Have you not seen my skills? Babe, no joke. Next one, your dad’s on your ass.”

  “Dang smartphones. Did you see my twist, though?”

  “Fuckin’ awesome. Don’t do it again.”

  The two of us laughed until the line went silent.

  “I go in on Thursday to meet my new medical team.”

  “Yeah?” Her voice went soft. “You tell me if any of them are hot or not, ‘kay?”

  I wiped my nose and nodded. “Yeah.”

  “I miss you, Hannah. Stay strong. I’ll call you tomorrow, alright?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah,” she answered back. I pulled the phone away from my ear and ended the call. I pulled out the card and took a photo of the front and the back, then messaged it to her. Immediately, she texted back.

  Trace: Got it- call later, ya? Remember - don’t be a nun!

  I chuckled, then slid to the ground as my nose and eyes started to burn. Reality sank in. How was I going to get through this without her? Without her there to bring me a peanut butter berry smoothie when I was hooked up to those machines? She was my rock. I hadn’t thought this far. I clenched my fist on my thigh. I missed Trace. I missed my best friend.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next day, I woke up aching slightly but didn't mention anything to my dad. I didn't want him to worry. As Dad fixed me breakfast, I checked my phone to see if I got anything back from Trace. There weren’t any new messages from her, but Stacie texted me about why I moved classes. I didn’t have an answer for her; however, I was going to find out as soon as I got to school.

  The two of us ate then headed out the door around the same time, me for school and him for work. I waved to Novalee when she pulled out of her driveway and got into my own car. I turned up the radio, trying to drown out my aches and pains and think about something else. I hated days like these.

  Parking in a parking spot, I eased myself out of the car as people walked by and took notice of me. Possibly recognizing me? Or curious as to who I was; either way, I didn't care as I reached into my car and grabbed my backpack. Straightening, I slammed the car door before pressing the button on my key fob to lock it.

  Today was a bright and sunny day, unlike my mood. Last night I had realized that I had to face a new medical team and trust them with my care, without having the established relationship I used to have with my previous team back home.

  Stepping up onto the sidewalk, nerves racked my system but I pushed them back. I could get through this. I just had to head straight to the office to check my schedule. It was vastly different than it had been yesterday, and I wanted to confirm the classes I was supposed to be in.

  I had to push myself today as my body was slow and sluggish. I was pretty sure I had pushed myself too far the last couple of days. Thrills were awesome, but they took a lot out of you. The downfall was that doing them left me weak because my body was fighting against me.

  I walked into the office straight up to the counter where the secretary was and pulled out my schedule from my backpack, setting it down on the counter.

  The woman behind it slid the paper toward her and asked what she could do for me.

  “My schedule.” I gestured to the sheet of paper she now held. “It seems to be different than what it was yesterday.”

  The secretary’s eyebrow rose. “Really, and how can that be?” she asked, looking at it before setting it down and typing something into her computer, pulling up my schedule I assumed.

  She glanced back and forth between the paper and computer several times before handing my schedule back. “It matches with what we have on the computer.”

  My eyebrows furrowed, trying to figure out how that could be. “I had been in Mr. Gaines classroom yesterday, though.”

  This time the secretary’s smile was forced. “Dear, I don't know what you saw or where you went yesterday; all I know is” - she tapped her pointer finger against the paper I held - “this is your schedule. Now, you might want to get to class before the bell rings. You don't want to be late.”

  I stared at her for a second before turning around and heading toward the door that led out into the hall. I paused briefly before exiting, grabbing a map of the school that was in a plastic organizer on the wall, then walked out. I wasn’t crazy, but in there I sure sounded like I had been.

  I went to first hour with Mrs. Reacher; it was the class I had with Jamison and Drex, and they were waiting for me, sitting on the far side of the room with a desk in between them. I didn't want to assume, but I was pretty sure it was for me. I slowly made my way there as Drex shifted in his spot further back before noticing me. His tall frame blocked the view of anyone who sat behind him as he waved me over, catching everyone's attention.

  "Hey, Jumper," Drex greeted as he patted the back of my seat. "Sit, the class is about to start."

  I took my bag off my shoulder and sank into the seat. "Don't call me, ‘Jumper,’" I muttered, dragging my backpack along my thighs until it was between my chest and the desk. As I unzipped my bag, I heard Drex’s snarky comment. "Wow, someone's in a mood."

  Jamison twisted around and studied me curiously as he sucked on a mint candy. "You okay?"

  "A little under the weather." I waved off his concerns. "I'm good. This morning just hates me."

  His mouth stopped moving, biting the candy treat between his teeth, as his mouth pressed down into a frown. "If you say so."

  My hair shifted, and I stiffened as Drex's fingers rested against the back of my neck and lightly massaged the tense muscles there. My mouth watered as the scent of cinnamon buns teased my senses. I swear he must have eaten them this morning. Unsure of what he was doing, I went to move away, but his fingers tightened, causing me to shiver.

  "It's okay," he whispered against my head. "Just relax; I'll help you loosen up those muscles."

  "Said the fox to the rabbit." The two of them chuckled.

  Jamison looked to Drex and gave him a meaningful look before returning his gaze to me with a smile. "He'll take care of you. He has the magic touch."

  Drex snorted.

  Jamison turned around when the teacher in front started class. I didn't care either way. My body melted under Drex's touch and for the rest of homeroom, I didn't know what was said.

  When class was over and we got ready to go, his fingertips drifted away, taking the magical touch with him. With it gone, my body sagged, now painfully aware of the aches and pains that crept back. Knowing there was nothing I could do, I got out of my seat and turned to find Drex's concerned expression. It said it all.

  "Are you sick?" he asked, concerned, as he touched my shoulders, drawing me into his body aga
in. I was going to fight him, but the comforting tingling feeling came back, so I let him hold me close.

  "No," I denied, wrapping my arms around his waist and sinking into his warmth. I breathed him in, spice and all, not the least bit ashamed.

  "You are sick," he murmured, rubbing my back. "At least, you don't seem to feel good."

  "I just didn’t sleep well." I played it off and swore I felt him kiss the top of my head as he released me and brushed away a stray strand of my hair that had gotten into my eyes.

  I withdrew from his embrace and felt the aches once again come back, and it confused me.

  Why was I feeling this way with him? Was it from the comfort of someone hugging me, or possibly he was just really good with his hands? Throwing another wild guess out in left field, I wondered if my steadily growing attraction to him was to blame. All of those sounded reasonable, right?

  I turned to find Jamison having a stare-down with Drex, his face grim. They didn’t seem to believe my weak excuse.

  "Um, thanks," I said, adjusting my backpack. “For the massage,” I clarified. Then I moved to leave, slightly embarrassed to be caught off guard.

  Jamison followed. "Hey, Hannah, you know if you need anything, anything at all, you can come to me, right?"

  Rolling my eyes, I kept going out the classroom door. "Jamison, I've only known you, for what, a couple of days? Even though you have decided to look after me, for whatever crazy reason" - I glanced at him as he came up beside me when in the hall - "I probably should get to know you first before I share my secrets, don't you think?"

  His lips pursed as his hands tightened on the straps of his backpack. "But the offer still stands."

  I turned, walking backward, and put my thumb up and my pointer finger out, pointing his way, and winked at him with a grin. "You got it."

  Then I turned back around and let my smile drop. I turned the corner to head for my next class with Quinn. I didn't know what I was going to do as I separated myself from the guys. My whole mind was consumed with thoughts of Carly and her message. Did she know my grandparents? And, most of all, my appointment on Thursday. My muscles tensed again and my body felt cumbersome and weak. My health was getting worse, not better.