by Azzurra Nox
He gave the concession man a wad of bills and handed Rob his hot dog topped with mustard, chili, and fresh chopped onions. Jon had ordered the same kind, as he tried to balance the hot dog and drink in his hands. It was near impossible to eat in those conditions, so the two found a small spot on the sidewalk and sat down to devour the steaming hot dogs. The two bit into the juicy meat, trying not to let the chili or mustard fall on their shirts although it seemed a rather difficult task to accomplish.
Rob laughed, “You’ve got mustard all over your face!”
Jon tried to lick the yellow sauce off his lips, but his brother kept shaking his head no, that he had missed. Annoyed, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
It was such a hot day that most of the ice had melted in their soda even before they had a chance to drink some of it.
Shoving the last bit of the bun into his mouth, Jon chewed eagerly as he looked out at the beach. His mother would probably be worried for them by now since they had been gone for over an hour. He was actually surprised that she hadn’t come looking for them yet. Then again, the place was so crowded that finding them would be near impossible. He felt like he was in one of those Where’s Waldo scenarios, because the flow of people was so dense.
“Jonny, I’m throwing this out. I’ll be back. Then we can go back to the beach,” Rob took a final sip from the soda, sucking at the straw, making a loud sound as he emptied the cup.
“Okay,” he said, not really paying attention. He was too busy studying a tattooed guy on roller-blades pulling off intricate break dance moves. His brother walked away. He heard his steps but they were soon muffled by the sound of others walking past him. Jon was mesmerized by the guy’s fluid movements, balancing on a hand, his feet in the air until he came back down and skated along the curb. He wasn’t sure how long he had been staring for, but soon he realized that something was odd.
Shouldn’t Robert have come back? The wastebasket was not even ten feet away from where they were seated. He stood up and looked around. Saw no trace of his brother.
“Robbie! Rob!” He shouted, walking around trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of his blue shirt and jean shorts in the midst of the crowd. But none of the boys that passed by were him. Jon tried to stay calm. Maybe he was still thirsty, maybe he had gone back to the food stand to order another Dr. Pepper. Yes, that had to be it. He was sure of it.
He made a mad dash for the food stand, his eyes darting back and forth but didn’t see him anywhere.
“Have you seen my brother?” he asked the man who had sold them the hot dogs.
“How’s he look like?”
“Just like me, we’re twins.”
“Sorry, kid, haven’t seen him.”
“Are you sure?” panic broke into his tone.
“Yes, I’m sure. Maybe he’s just walking around? There’s a crowd over at the Cyclone, see if he’s there.”
That’s right! The Cyclone! How had he not thought of it? Maybe Rob had wanted to go back on the ride. Jon ran in that direction, his vision blinded by tears as he realized that Rob had spent his last money on the previous ride. He wouldn’t have been able to pay for another. But what if he had lied? What if he had more money with him than he had said? That little glimmer of hope is what kept him going, kept him running in that direction. He’s on the ride. He probably wanted to ride it one more time. To show off that he wasn’t a scaredy cat, that he had gone on the ride alone. In his alarm, he ran into a clown that was twisting balloons into animals. He looked at the white painted face with the outrageous red grin with tear stricken fear, before pushing past him.
Suddenly, everyone around him felt foreign and ominous. Dread settled into his stomach, knotting it.
“Rob! Robbie! Mom will be mad if you don’t show up! She’ll ground you forever!” he threatened as he choked back a sob. “ROBERT!” he looked around him, back and forth scanning the various people that walked past him, with wild eyes. None of them were his brother. He fell on his knees crying. “Robbie!” he sobbed, sniffing, as the sun beat down on him. If only he hadn’t let his brother walk away alone. If only he had held unto his hand….
All those thoughts fired through his head like missiles. He felt helpless and broken. His shoulders sunk as his chest heaved. He couldn’t think straight. He just wished Robert would appear. But there was no trace of him whatsoever. It was as though he had simply vanished with the summer breeze.
The smoke rose up in a cloud above his head. Seven years had passed since that fateful summer day, and yet he could relive every moment of it in its minute detail, the images etched into his brain forever, unrelenting and enough to drive him insane. With the cigarette dangling from his lips, he pulled up his shirt’s sleeve. He looked down at the patch of fair skin on the inside of his arm sparse with red circular marks. Without much thought he took the cigarette from his mouth and placed the fiery end against his delicate skin. A sudden rush avalanche through his body like tiny electrical bolts as he shivered against the burning sensation. He muffled a whimper by biting into his lower lip, as he kept his eyes shut and pressed harder down onto his skin. This was a way to fill his void. A way not to think about the pain that pulled at his chest every single time he had those nightmares or any other time he had a moment of clarity to think about him, his exact copy lost somewhere amongst the world. Alone.
He pulled the cigarette slowly away from his skin. The burn glared back at him in a stark crimson hue as though it were on the verge of bleeding. Sighing, he leaned his head back against the headboard of the bed. He took deep breaths as a way to chase away any negative thoughts. Only to find that his thoughts kept going back to Lena. The way she had smiled at him during their conversation in Algebra class or the way she had looked so gutted when she noticed that he was dating Amelia. What a hot mess this is. A tinge of remorse fled towards Amelia. His sweet Milly as he sometimes called her. She had always been there for him ever since they first spoke in a record store eight months ago. He was searching for a CD when she bumped into him. Unaware of her surroundings, she had been texting and hadn’t realized that someone was standing right in front of her until the inevitable crash. She apologized profusely and he had offered her a cookie dough milkshake at the café down the street. Since then they were inseparable although he still managed to keep his distance with her just like he had done with any other girl before her. Despite the two of them attending St. Lucy Academy, he had never paid attention to her prior to that day. Jon spent his time moving from one girl to another, and as awful as it was to admit, someone like her wouldn’t have been on the top of his list. Although now, he liked her company at times and hadn’t attempted to move on. Yet.
It was madness for him to feel so attached to Lena so quickly. He wasn’t the type to feel a connection or to seek it. On the contrary, he was always wondering why girls got so easily attached, especially since he was so careless with their emotions. He didn’t want to be tied to anyone, for fear of having to lose them. Of course he’d never admit that to anyone. No one knew that he had a twin brother that vanished when he was ten. He and his mother had left New York when he was twelve, after his parents divorced. His father was convinced that he could find Robert. He spent his days going through newspaper clippings and trying to find some sense in a case that had long been closed. On the other hand, his mother just wanted to forget. Put the past behind her. She didn’t want to deal with guilt’s painful weight. But late at night he’d hear her sobbing. She’d invoke Robert’s name as if her desperate cries could possibly be heard and he’d follow them home. If only.
Jon took one final drag of the cigarette, rubbing his marked arm to dull the pain but it only made it worse. Some nights he wished he could disappear into the mist, just like his brother. There’s nothing worse than being left behind.
Chapter Five
The ballet studio was spacious with its hardwood floors and mirrors surrounding the walls. Lena had stayed behind to practice some steps. Auditions for Phantom of
the Opera were coming up soon. She strongly hoped to get the role of Christine but would settle for Carlotta. That would be immensely better than being part of the nameless chorus girls. Although that would be better than not being in the production at all. None of the other girls in the class stood a chance, except for Bethany, who just happened to be in her class. Initially when she first noticed her, Lena had felt somewhat apprehensive because of her exchange with her friend, Dior. But she soon found out that Dior wasn’t universally loved, starting from her close friends.
“You’re the new girl, right?” she had initiated the conversation with a redundant question, that Lena only nodded to further her discussion, “I thought it was awesome what you did the other day. Standing up to Dior. No one has ever dared to do that. You’ve got balls.”
She had laughed at her remark, a slight blush forming on her pallid cheeks, “No, I just can’t stomach bullies, that’s all.”
“Doesn’t anyone? But no one will readily say it to her face.”
“Maybe it’s time to start,” she had told her, and the girl had just nodded as a sly smirk formed upon her glossy lips.
Her en pointe shoes were beginning to hurt, but she had learned to ignore the pain many years ago. After eight years of dancing, she had the physical attributes to reveal her passion. The waif like body, tortured feet, muscular legs, and graceful movements.
Her long blonde hair was up in a tight bun, arms wrapped in a pink shrug, and leg warmers to help her muscles stay warm and loosen her movements. The music echoed in the empty room, giving off an eerie feeling. But she didn’t seem to notice so fully intent on standing on her toes and looking at her image in the mirror. There was a faint smell of violets in the air, but it didn’t readily register for the scent of the wooden floors overpowered it.
She carefully lifted her leg, standing on one foot as she managed to position it in the air at a ninety degree angle, making sure that her knee was in line with her ankle. The reflection staring back at her looked tired but poised. She was about to change position when she was startled by a loud sound. Beating wings crashing against a window. At that very moment, her ankle tilted to the side and gave away causing her to lose her balance and fall to the floor.
“Ouch!” she grimaced in pain as her hand instinctively reached out to stroke her throbbing ankle. Tears stung her eyes but she attempted not to cry. Reluctantly, she pulled off her slippers and slowly slid down her leg warmers noticing the swelling right away. It was probably sprained. Fantastic. That’s all she needed with tryouts for the play being only a week away.
After a few minutes of rubbing her sore ankle she attempted to crawl over to her messenger bag and reach for her mobile punching in the shortcut for her father’s number.
“Hello sweetie.”
“Hey dad, I hurt myself during ballet. Could you come pick me up? I don’t think I can make it to the bus stop.”
“Are you okay?” suddenly alarmed.
Nodding as though he could see her, “Yes, I’m okay. I think it’s just a simple sprain, but it hurts like hell.”
“I’ll be right over. We’ll stop by the clinic on the way home, just to be sure that it’s nothing serious.”
“Okay.” She hung up.
She heard the loud noise again. Wings flapping wildly. Her heart quickened, as uneasiness clutched her throat with an iron fist. She despised being alone when anxiety overtook her. Logic told her to stay calm. Was it a crow? After all, she had seen so many since she had moved to Los Angeles. At first she had seen them as ominous omens, but after two weeks of seeing crows fly over her head she couldn’t think that anymore. Don’t be scared, she scolded herself as she attempted to lift herself up, slowly, and limped toward the entrance door. Once there, she hastily pushed it open. On the ground, along with shattered glass sparkled a deep ebony feather. She lifted the large feather from the ground. It was impossible that it could belong to a crow, it was far too big. The feather stood out long at least twenty-four inches. Maybe it belonged to a raven? They were usually bigger than a crow she tried to reason. But something deep inside her led her to believe that the feather belonged to another creature. One that was more massive. This thought frightened her, and she shivered. But who could it belong to? Or most importantly, to what?
Later that night, after Lena’s dad had taken her to the clinic to get her sprain wrapped up, she took out the incredibly long black feather from her messenger bag and inspected it closely. She sniffed it to see if she could notice a particular scent but when she did that, she only took a whiff of night flowers mixed with violets. After much thought, she decided to show it to her dad.
“Dad, I wanted to show you something. Do you think you can ask someone in the university who’s in the biology department to see if they can tell you what bird species this feather belongs to?”
Her father was seated at his desk, surrounded by books, notes, and scattered papers, as he speedily typed on his laptop. He looked away from his screen a moment to cast his eyes on the long black feather she held in front of him.
“Where did you find this?” taking the glossy feather and turning it over as though he could comprehend what bird it belonged to in that manner.
“Outside of the ballet studio. When I fell, I thought I heard birds flying close by, so I went to take a look.”
He gave her a disapproving look, “You know that’s not safe to do around here. What if it wasn’t a bird but someone who wanted to hurt you?”
“I know, I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry,” she was quick to say, so that he could revert his attention back to the feather, “Do you think it belongs to a raven?”
“It’s possible. I’ll have Max look at it and let you know. But I have to admit that it’s quite peculiar, because it’s not habitual for them to be flying around here.”
“Maybe one flew away from a zoo?”
“That’s always a possibility. Tell you what, I’ll check into it, and get back to you, okay, sweetie?”
She nodded with a half smile.
“Now I want you to stay off that ankle as much as possible. None of those fancy footsteps you do in dance class for at least a week. Doctor’s orders.”
“I know,” she groaned walking slowly back out from the study so that she could leave her dad to work on his research in peace. She tried to stay as much off her foot as possible, limping in the process.
“I really mean it!” he shouted, his voice traveling down the hall.
“I know, I know! I won’t!” she lied. He was crazy if he thought she was going to give up her opportunity to play Christine. She’d only make sure to not overdue it with the practice for a couple of days and everything would be fine. The tape already made her ankle feel immensely better. Besides, by the time practice for the show started it would be awhile, right now she just needed to be good enough to pass the audition.
She returned to her room. The walls were painted in a light lilac shade and some photos she had taken throughout her travels were hanging in frames. Her school uniform was ready for tomorrow. It was kind of gutting for her to have to wear one when she had so many cute dresses she’d prefer to wear instead, but the uniform wasn’t too unbearably ugly so she figured she could manage after all. A strange shuffling sound caught her attention. It seemed to be coming from outside. Cautiously, she opened the window attempting to see if she could make out anything in the dark, but the streets were empty six stories below.
“It’s just my imagination,” shutting the window and limping over to her bed. Her eyes hadn’t managed to make out the dark slim silhouette in the corner of the street. It was probably for the best.
Chapter Six
Dior Fontaine was good at telling a story. Many people were aware of this, although not many knew that her weekend escapades she so dutifully described in each minute detail were fabrications made to be the envy of St. Lucy Academy. There was a quote from Machiavelli, that she had read that stuck with her, “Everyone sees what you appear to be, few really know what
you are,” and she lived by those words religiously. Knowing that creating the image she wished to convey would be how she would be perceived. Every Monday, her faithful following nicknamed the Three Bees because all three girl’s names began with the letter B, flocked around her locker to hear her talk about how she had spent the weekend drinking champagne with Justin Timberlake or how she had gone shopping with Miley Cyrus. Of course the Three Bees believed every single word Dior uttered, because not only was she convincing in her anecdotes, but they all knew her father was a famous music producer so they easily believed that her life consisted of hanging out with the most cutting edge music stars. Little did they know that her father refused to have her be anywhere near his clients and instead was forced to spend her weekends in the solitary company of her Nanny.
But the Three Bees were unaware of that, along with all the other boys and girls in the school, they envied her seemingly perfect existence. Sometimes, whenever she would share one of her adventures, she almost felt like she really had experienced them because her tales were so rich. She slowly began to believe her own blatant lies, forgetting that they were simple fabrications. They had easily morphed into enriched memories embedded in her brain, taking over the ones of her true bleak existence. Whenever Jon seemed to pass by Dior’s locker during her story telling sessions, she’d find herself focusing on the hot details of a kiss or how some crazily sexy boy she had met in a club had pushed her against the wall and his hands had roamed over the entirety of her body clad in a miniskirt and revealing top. She always wanted him to stop and maybe listen. Envy that boy who had been able to touch her. But he never seemed to notice her, and would pass by without even looking in her direction. This was something that drove her mad. How dare he ignore her? Half the males in the school followed her around with salivating tongues. It was unheard of to go unnoticed! And yet she yearned for what she couldn’t have.
Her eyes were of a vibrant jade hue and hair the color of dark chocolate, cut in layers that would catch the light so that when she’d walk her locks seemed to shine. But what made her really remarkable was her body. Tall, lean, and curvaceous in all the right places, that on Dior, the school outfit almost seemed provocative and not a forced uniform at all.