Now You See Me

by Debbie Viguié

  “Good,’ Mrs. Jennings said, looking relieved. “Well then today you can have lunch with your girlfriends and everything will be just fine.”

  Opal blinked at her. “Are you telling me not to eat with Mal?”

  “He’s not someone you want to associate with. You’re new, but you’ll get the idea soon enough.”

  “The only idea I’ve gotten is that the teachers here seem to hate him,” she said.

  Mrs. Jennings stared at her without blinking. Opal was shocked that the woman didn’t even try to deny it. “Trust me,” she said at last, “you’ll come to a bad end if you try to befriend him.”

  Opal seethed. Her first instinct was to defend him. To tell Mrs. Jennings that Mal was her boyfriend. What he’d said the day before about wanting the teachers to form their own opinions of her, though, kept playing through her mind. “Is that all?” she asked instead.

  “Yes.”

  Opal got up and went back over to sit with Ginger. She pulled her desk close to the other girl so that they wouldn’t be overheard.

  “What did she want?” Ginger asked.

  “She told me to stay away from Mal. She as much as admitted that all the teachers hate him.”

  Ginger nodded, clearly not surprised.

  Opal reached out and grabbed Ginger’s hand. “Ginger, please, you have to tell me the truth.”

  “About what?” Ginger asked, fear creeping into her voice.

  “Why are people afraid of Mal?” she asked.

  Ginger dropped her eyes, refusing to look at her. “Don’t ask me that.”

  “Come on, please tell me. It’s obvious that there’s something. Even Seth was scared of him.”

  “I don’t want to say anything bad about your boyfriend.”

  “I’ve known him for two days. Things are moving crazy fast. I need to know what I’m getting myself into. Come on, you’ve got to tell me what everyone around here seems to know about him.”

  The other girl really didn’t want to talk.

  “Look, we’re friends. Friends tell each other the truth about boys. How else can we protect ourselves?” Opal asked, feeling only a little bad about trying to guilt trip the other girl. Things were getting ridiculous and someone needed to tell her the truth.

  “Everyone’s scared of him. The teachers hate him.”

  Ginger nodded.

  “Why? Is he a drug dealer or something?” Opal asked, thinking of the scariest people back in Los Angeles.

  “Oh no! Definitely not,” Ginger said fervently, looking up at her.

  “Well, that’s a relief,” Opal said. “So, Ginger, what is he?”

  Ginger took a deep breath. She started to shake. She leaned in even closer to Opal. When she finally spoke her voice was the faintest of whispers. “He is a killer.”

  6

  Opal stared at Ginger, sure that she couldn’t have heard the other girl right. “What did you say?” she asked.

  “You heard me.”

  “Who did he kill?”

  “I’ve said too much already.”

  The bell rang and Ginger bolted up from her chair and was out the door before Opal could even grab her stuff. Her hands were shaking as she picked up her books and headed for the next class.

  It couldn’t be true. There had to be some misunderstanding. But the way everyone treated Mal... If it was true it couldn’t be that he just murdered someone. Maybe there was an accident while he was driving and people blamed him. That happened plenty of times back in California. Teenager driving, crashes, one or more friends were killed. It had even happened to someone at her school. No, it had to have been an accident. Or maybe even just a vicious rumor that someone who hated him started once. Things like that could haunt you all throughout school.

  He has to know what people are saying about him. Why doesn’t he defend himself? she wondered. He acted like he didn’t care. Maybe he’d given up. Maybe he was just trying to get through high school, too. Maybe that was why he took all the advanced classes and independent studies just so he wouldn’t have to deal with people most of the time.

  She walked into her next class and came to a halt. It was biology and as she stared at the unfamiliar man at the front of the room she remembered that people were saying Mr. Grossman was missing. She forced herself to walk forward and she took her seat slowly. She glanced around and saw that people were staring at her.

  The fact that Mal said he’d take care of Mr. Grossman for hitting on me is just a coincidence, she told herself. He didn’t do anything bad to Mr. Grossman.

  Of course, from what she’d heard Mr. Grossman had gone missing after lunch the day before. And a while later Mal had shown up in the library with a fresh burn on his arm.

  “Okay, class, settle down. I’m your substitute. I’ll be with you for a few weeks it looks like.”

  “What happened to Mr. Grossman?” a student in the front row asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where is he?” someone else called out.

  “I’m sure he’s fine. You are, of course, free to take your concerns to the school administration. Now, can someone tell me where we are in the book?” he asked.

  Opal felt like she was living a nightmare as she was forced to sit through first biology and then English. She needed to talk to Mal but part of her was dreading the encounter. What would he say? What could he say? It was clear that people thought that Mr. Grossman’s absence had something to do with him.

  She kept telling herself not to jump to conclusions until she could hear the truth from him. By the time the bell finally rang signaling lunch she felt like she was going to explode. She hurried to her locker, threw her stuff inside, then turned around, hoping to see Mal coming toward her.

  He wasn’t there. She stood for a moment, looking around. She realized she didn’t even know where his locker was or which classroom he would have been in. Frustration welled in her.

  Seth came up and opened his locker and she walked over to him. “Have you seen Mal?” she asked him pointedly.

  He refused to look at her, but he shook his head.

  “Do you know which classroom he was in before lunch?”

  He shook his head again.

  “Do you know anything?” she demanded.

  “Someone said they thought they saw him in the principal’s office,” he finally answered, still refusing to look at her.

  “Thank you,” she said, moving off in that direction as fast as she could.

  Just as she reached the door to the offices it swung open and Mal stepped outside. He looked at her in surprise.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice flat.

  “I was looking for you. Se-someone said they thought you might be here,” she said.

  He sighed. “Sorry I didn’t meet you at your locker.”

  “It’s okay. What was going on?” she asked, heart in her throat.

  “Just had to sort a few things out,” he said. “Now, shall we get some lunch?”

  “Oh...okay,” she said. Food was the furthest thing from her mind at the moment. She wasn’t sure she could eat even if she tried.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing...I just wanted...well, we need to talk.”

  He frowned. “That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”

  “What?”

  “You just uttered the four most feared words in the English language. ‘We need to talk’.”

  She forced herself to smile. “It’s nothing, it’s fine, I’m sure.”

  He looked even less convinced of that than she was.

  “Okay, so let’s go somewhere we can talk.”

  He took her hand and she let him lead her down the hallway. As they moved farther from the lunchroom and encountered fewer people she began to wonder if it was a good idea. She didn’t know him, really at all. And she’d been warned by everyone about him. Was she safe being alone with him, especially if she had uncomfortable questions to ask him? Maybe she should stop and save this fo
r another time.

  As if sensing her hesitation his grip tightened on her hand, and he seemed to start walking faster. Panic flared up within her. They turned down a deserted hallway and she realized she had no idea where in the school they were.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “We’re almost there,” he said shortly.

  He pushed open a door at the end of the hallway and pulled her inside.

  They were standing at the back of an auditorium. The lights were off everywhere except the stage which was lit but barren.

  “Is this where you had the audition?” she asked as he pulled her toward the stage.

  “Yes,” he said shortly.

  She looked around, hoping she’d see a teacher or a janitor or some drama students, but there was no one. They were all alone and there was nobody who could come to her aid if she needed it.

  This was a bad idea, she thought to herself.

  Moments later they were walking up the stairs at the side of the stage. Then he moved to the edge of the stage and sat down, legs dangling over it.

  “Sit down,” he said, his voice still dead sounding.

  She swallowed and then carefully sat down, leaving as much space between them as she could without arousing his suspicions.

  “When do you find out if you made the talent show?” she asked, stalling for time. She was hoping someone else would come into the room or she could calm down enough to get what she needed to say out.

  “They said they’d be posting the list Thursday,” he said, frowning. “You didn’t want to talk about that, did you?”

  “No, I didn’t,” she admitted, hating that she could hear a quaver in her voice.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, turning to her.

  His eyes had gone dark, dark blue. They almost looked black. He looked intense, serious. She also noted that he didn’t make any move to take her hand again. Instead he sat, fingers gripping the edge of the stage, shoulders hunched slightly.

  “I wanted to ask you some stuff.”

  “Like what?”

  “About your past...you know before I met you...three days ago,” she said.

  She was an idiot. If he did turn out to be a crazy stalker guy she had no one to blame but herself for getting into this mess.

  He frowned. “My mom died when I was born. My dad owns the pharmacy. I’ve never had a girlfriend before. I’ve never done drugs. That kind of stuff?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, you just heard all the pertinent stuff,” he said, frowning harder.

  “Have I?” she asked.

  Her heart was beginning to slam against her ribcage. He tended to have that affect on her, but this time it was fear that was coursing through her.

  He locked eyes with her and she felt like she was trapped within his gaze. “What is it you’re asking me?” he said slowly.

  “I’m asking you if the rumors I’ve heard about you are true,” she breathed.

  He stared for a few more seconds then broke eye contact. He seemed to shake himself and his posture relaxed slightly.

  “Is that all?”

  She nodded.

  “You know how it is. Every school has one or two people that everyone gossips about. I’ve heard some really crazy rumors about me before. I can’t keep track of all of them. So, which one did you hear?” he asked with a small smile while slowly drumming his fingers on the edge of the stage.

  She started to relax. He was right. Back home there had been some outlandish stories about a couple of the girls in her class. They were so crazy she had never believed them.

  “I heard that you were a killer.”

  He went completely still.

  “Oh, that one,” he said after several seconds had passed.

  “Yeah,” she said, starting to feel like an idiot for repeating gossip. It had to be painful to be the subject of such rumors. Even though he acted like it was no big deal she could see that it still hurt him to hear what people were saying.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have repeated that,” she said, reaching out and putting a hand on his arm.

  “It’s okay. I mean, I couldn’t expect people not to gossip to you about me. That would have been too much to hope for,” he said. He gave her a pained smile and guilt flooded through her. She was an idiot to believe gossip like that, especially when it was so crazy.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up what stupid people say. I’m just...it’s hard. Everyone acts so weird around here, especially about you.”

  “So you naturally wondered if where there was smoke there was fire.”

  “Yes. I’m so sorry.”

  He took a deep breath. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “It is okay. I understand why you asked.”

  “Forget it, please.”

  “No,” he said softly.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you deserve an answer.”

  “About what?” she asked.

  “About whether or not I’m a killer.”

  “I don’t think you-”

  “It’s true,” he said.

  “What?” she asked, gripping the edge of the stage.

  “I am a killer.”

  “What do you mean?” she said, feeling like she was on the edge of a precipice and was about to fall over.

  He turned his head away. “I’ve killed a person. I think that’s the generally accepted meaning.”

  She sat there, struggling for what to say next.

  “Did they tell you how?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, finding her voice. Her earlier thoughts came flooding back. “Was there a car accident? Were you driving and someone was killed?”

  “No.”

  “Then what?”

  He took a deep breath. “I told you yesterday that people are afraid of me because I got into a fight.”

  She nodded.

  “Well, that’s true. The fight was just a lot worse than I let on.”

  She started shaking and she involuntarily scooted a few inches farther away from him.

  “You told me you were a nice guy.”

  “I never claimed to be a nice guy,” he said, eyes down.

  “At the store that first day you said-”

  “I said I was a good guy. There’s a difference.”

  “Whatever! The point is, you’re not, are you?”

  “I am,” he said, finally looking up at her. “Please, you have to believe that.”

  “But you killed someone,” she said, feeling like she couldn’t catch her breath.

  “Sometimes even good guys have blood on their hands,” he said. “That’s just the way the world works.”

  “What world?” she asked, gasping slightly for air.

  “You’re hyperventilating,” he said.

  “What world!” she tried to shriek but it came out as a whisper.

  “You need to slow down and take deep breaths. You’re going to faint.”

  “Where is Mr. Grossman?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “How should I know?” he asked, his eyes veiled.

  “Did you do something to him?”

  “What if I did?” he asked.

  The room was spinning around her.

  She could feel his hands on her shoulders but it was too late, she was falling into darkness.

  7

  Opal groaned and blinked slowly. There was bright light shining in her eyes and her head hurt.

  “I told you that you were going to faint,” she heard a voice say.

  She opened her eyes and Mal’s face came into focus. Her entire body jerked in terror as she realized that he was crouched above her. He scowled and moved slightly away.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “You hyperventilated. When your brain couldn’t get enough oxygen, you passed out for a second.”

  She struggled to sit up and he swiftly moved to pin her shoulders down.

  “Let me go!” she hiss
ed.

  “I’ll let you sit up in a minute. I just need you to breathe a few more deep breaths. When you try to sit up you’ll get dizzy. You’ll want to take it slow so you don’t fall and hurt yourself.”

  “Take your hands off me.”

  He winced and slowly lifted his hands off her shoulders and held them both up where she could see them. “There, okay? I’m not keeping you here, but please, take my advice and get up slowly.”

  “Why should I listen to you?” she asked.

  “Because I’ve told you the truth and, also, I’ve blacked out before and I know what it’s like. Once you’re ready I’ll take you to the nurse.”

  He retreated to the other end of the stage where he just stood, arms folded across his chest, and stared at her. She had questions burning in her, but she felt completely vulnerable and she was afraid to ask while he was the one in control of the situation.

  Slowly she started to sit up, easing onto her elbows first. The world was spinning a little bit but she forced herself to take deep, even breaths.

  “Do you want help?” he asked.

  “No!” she snapped, afraid that he’d come back over.

  Slowly she eased all the way up to a sitting position. She kept breathing evenly despite the fact that she was still dizzy and afraid.

  “Who did you kill?” she blurted out the question before she could stop herself.

  “A very bad man who was trying to kill me. It was self defense,” he said.

  “If that’s true then why is everyone so scared of you?”

  He walked back over and she felt herself tensing. He crouched down next to her. “I’ve always been...different. Some people started really noticing that back when we were in Kindergarten. Some things you can’t hide no matter how hard you try. People don’t like different, it scares them. Then, unfortunately, when I was attacked a lot of people witnessed it, and the entire fight was horrific. I still have nightmares and I know many others who were there do, too. I almost died and I know some people secretly wish that I had so that they wouldn’t have to be reminded of that day every time they look at me.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. “Did you think you could hide it?”