Insight

by Jolene Perry

  I slide into a plain pair of black ballet flats.

  All normal things for a normal day.

  But today is not normal.

  “Ready?” Mom asks as I step into the room.

  I look down at myself, which is silly. It’s not like I forgot to put on pants. If I’m forgetting something, it’ll be too small for me to notice. Right now all I hope for is to be touched the least amount possible. Getting hit with too much emotion today would probably send me over the edge.

  Mom’s standing with the door open and her bag over her shoulder, waiting. “Micah?”

  “Uh…yeah. Sure. I’m ready.” I have no idea.

  We step out of the apartment into the narrow hallway. I smile as I remember what it was like to move our stuff in through this tiny, steep space, until my brain sees fit to give me another look at Lacey. It sucks the air from me and caves my chest in again with guilt. Today is not going to be easy.

  “You look nervous,” Mom comments as we head down the three flights of stairs.

  “I’m fine, why?” I stare at the steps, unwilling to even attempt to look her in the eye. She reads me too well.

  “That girl dying really shook you up, didn’t it?” She’s two steps behind me, and I’m glad. I don’t know how well I’d be able to hide my face.

  “A little.” A lot.

  She puts her arm around me and gives me a squeeze, now matching my steps. We barely fit side by side in the narrow stairway.

  Love. My face.

  That’s my vision from her. The one I’ve missed so much. I feel how she loves me and it helps me to relax. Mom’s my safe place. Well, for now.

  “We ready?” she asks as we step outside into the damp, winter air.

  “Yep.” Not at all.

  As she pulls up the street, I realize I’m actually going to have to be there today. At school. There’s no excuse not to be. No one knows I might have been able to save her. No one knows. It just feels like it’s something that’s stamped across my forehead. I wonder how many times I’ll have to tell myself this to get through my classes?

  I also wonder when I’ll find the courage to tell Mom what I see. Because being able to share this with someone, anyone, sounds amazing. Or maybe it would mean that more people than me would know I should have done something.

  ***

  As I walk toward the school, staring at my feet, I nearly run into someone.

  I suck in a breath, and narrowly miss bumping his shoulder.

  Then my heart drops. Landon. I stop until he’s several paces ahead. My hands clutch my stomach as queasiness starts to take over. Please don’t throw up.

  Josh steps in next to Landon, throwing his arm over his shoulder.

  “I can’t believe I have to even be here today,” Landon says.

  “It won’t be as bad as you think.”

  “It’ll be exactly as bad as I think.”

  I can’t help but wonder why he’s here. It seems like when a friend dies, you should get time off. If Mom knew what I saw, maybe she would have given me the day off. Or the rest of the year.

  His palm hits the outside of his eye. Is Landon crying? His footsteps are heavy and slow as he heads for the front door, jerks it open, and walks inside. Josh follows close behind. Hopefully there’s more to his friend than meets the eye, because Landon will definitely need it.

  I stand just outside, still unsure if I can make it today. What a horrible person I am. Landon has to go to school, and I don’t? I barely knew her.

  I just saw what happened.

  This sucks.

  ***

  The mood in the whole school is somber. Even the kids that didn’t know about Lacey over the weekend, probably heard about it in school first thing this morning. I see a few notes being passed, and some quiet whispers, but no smiling. No stifled giggles. We’re all heading to class, staring at our books, and probably all thinking about a different version of the same girl.

  In psychology, Mrs. Tutt decides to forgo our lesson in favor of talking about Lacey and the effect her death is likely to have on the whole student body. My face feels stiff and thick, my eyes are floating in water, and my heart’s pounding so hard I can’t hear her voice. All I can hear is the blood rushing through my body, threatening to take me over, or make me pass out.

  I need out now.

  I grab my binder, stand up, and walk out. Just like that. Who knew it was so easy? I can’t tell if she called my name, or what. It doesn’t matter. Nothing but chains could keep me in her room.

  When I get to my locker, I don’t stop. I keep walking. I walk down the stairs and out the back door. I don’t even try to hide myself in the large pine trees surrounding the school. It just doesn’t matter. I keep going past all the windows of all the classrooms on the left side of the building, and I still can’t bring myself to care. I’m lighter. Like part of me expected to be tackled if I tried to leave the building. But no one stopped me. I’m free.

  As I walk past the parking lot, I see Landon’s hooded figure jog out to his car. The engine on his Mustang revves to life, and then revves again. I move to the sidewalk.

  Landon’s grief, if that’s what it is, only adds to my guilt. I hear the pump of the bass from here, and the squeal of his tires as his car leaves the school parking lot sideways in a burst of rubber smoke.

  Again. This sucks. Now I suddenly feel like I didn’t just let Lacey down. I let him down, too.

  ***

  When I get home, I lock the door behind me, step out onto our porch, and suck in a few short breaths that might be the start of crying. I climb into my hammock chair and clench my jaw to keep the tension from my day. Letting it go would be like defeat. Lacey’s panic and the party going black hits me again, and again, and again, and I can’t shake it.

  Maybe I could tell Mom.

  I could tell her about my vision, about how I could have saved a life. Or maybe I could have told her before the weekend, before it happened. Maybe something could have been different. Or maybe Lacey was sealed into her fate in a way I don’t understand.

  Still, the tears of guilt flow down my cheeks, down my neck, and no amount of wiping takes away the moisture. There’s just too much.

  Now I realize that this is Mom’s vision of me all teary-faced, or close to it. I had two clues, one from Mom and one from Lacey, and still I did nothing. I need to get out of this chair before Mom gets home to save her from what I know she feels in finding me here, but not now. I just need a few more minutes.

  ***

  Mom’s voice wakes me from my nap in my swing. “I got a call from your school today that said you walked out of fifth period and never went back.” Her voice tells me she’s not yet sure if she should be angry or concerned. There’s a tinge of both.

  I don’t move. Wait. I didn’t make it out of the chair. This just lends weight to the idea that I see things I can’t change. Brilliant. I knew Mom saw me this way. I had the chance to change it, and it still didn’t change. This should make me feel better about Lacey, but it doesn’t. Not really.

  The whole Lacey mess weighs me down like it’s my fault, and no one can tell me different. Because no one knows what I do. And no one will know what I saw. And if they did, they’d probably just confirm what I’ve been chanting in my head since I found out. I could have done something. Told someone. Why didn’t I?

  “Micah?” Her serious mom face slowly falls. “Is this about the girl who died?”

  I can’t start this. “I don’t know what happened, Mom.” Although I kind of do. “I just had to get out of school today.”

  Her liquid blue eyes fill with sympathy. “Micah, you know you can talk to me, right?”

  “Yeah.” I nod. I can talk to you about everything but this. Because I’m almost eighteen, and I’ve just kept it to myself for too long. It’s too late. You’d be too devastated that I never said anything. It takes every ounce of my strength not to burst into tears again. My chest, my heart, my throat all have this fluttery, watery, fl
oating feeling. One wrong move will send me over the edge, and there would be no good way to explain that.

  “Okay.” She stands with one foot in our apartment, and one on the porch.

  “I’ll be fine, Mom. It won’t happen again.” Please go inside and give me a few more minutes.

  “I’m not worried about it happening again, Micah. I’m worried about why it happened this time.”

  I’m scrambling for a safe answer. “Probably I’m just over-tired today.”

  She doesn’t believe me. I know Mom well enough to know she doesn’t, but I also know her well enough to know she won’t press me any further. This is one of the benefits of being an only child. We’re close. And she trusts me. If it was important, I’d say something, right?

  SEVEN

  The whispers following Lacey’s death have calmed down. Her funeral was a week ago, and it began another new round of conversation, but it didn’t last long, and I ignored as much as I could.

  I watch Landon go through the motions. I know I shouldn’t be watching him, but there’s something so much deeper about him than I think most people see—I felt it when I saw the ocean from him. Or maybe part of me is wishing for my vision from him to be true. The one where he liked me. And that would be a stupid, stupid thing to wish for.

  But still I watch him. Still the vision of me, from him, puts me on edge. And he still looks black.

  ***

  When I step inside from school, it takes me a moment to process the scene in front of me. There are boxes littering the floor.

  “What’s going on?” I stop as soon as I step inside. Mom’s packing up our apartment. How is she home at this time of day?

  “We’re moving.” She doesn’t pause in her movements, taping up another box. “Ethan dropped off boxes a few minutes ago. You just missed him.”

  “Where?” I don’t want to move. I love the ocean. I love the smell. I love our balcony. We haven’t talked about this at all.

  “Not far, just up the street. I got a second job that will give us a nice little house, with two rooms. No one will have to tromp through a bedroom to use the potty in the middle of the night.” She smiles, marks the box quickly, and begins to assemble the next.

  “I don’t mind, Mom. I like it here.” My eyebrows pull together in confusion. Actually, maybe I’ll have to switch schools. Maybe it’ll be okay.

  “Honey, it’s a great job.”

  “You have a job.” I state the obvious.

  “And I’ll keep that job. It’s just that the people offering the job are in and out of town and need someone on the property. I’m in charge of hiring the groundskeepers and stuff like that. Easy. We’ll still be on the ocean, and the house even has access to a small beach.” Her eyes are focused on the box and the few contents of our kitchen she’s sliding into it.

  I’m only mildly appeased. I like our old balcony and the narrow stairs. “How did this come about? And why do you need two jobs?” Why do I have to face this much all at once?

  Mom finally stops to look at me. “It’ll give us a free place to live, honey. A nicer little house than we’ve ever had. Ethan’s sister is married to Senator Michaels and they need someone else on the property. It was finalized last night when Ethan and I went out.”

  I lean against the wall and let myself sag to the floor. Spots fill my vision.

  Of all the people in the school, he’s the one I’m most trying to avoid. “Mom. Please don’t do this. Their son goes to my school.” Us moving there won’t work for a few huge reasons:

  One. We’ll be on the same property as someone I go to school with and am trying to stay away from.

  Two. I don’t know how to let him like me, or how to like him without being terrified.

  Three. I watched his friend die and did nothing.

  Which, actually bring me to number four. If he ever does like me, the whole Lacey thing would pretty much make him hate me forever.

  “I know!” She smiles brightly. “Isn’t that fun?”

  “No.” I shake my head. Even my lips are shaking. Does she not see how I’m reacting? “It’s not fun. He’s one of the rich, spoiled kids, Mom.” Dread starts to fill me. I don’t know how else to explain things to her. It would mean telling her what I see. I will the words to come. But they won’t.

  She stops and rests her arms over the box. “I’m sorry, Micah. I know we always talk when an opportunity comes up, but this felt important, and it all happened so fast.”

  “And you couldn’t have warned me last night?” A tear slides down my cheek. I wipe it away quickly, before she notices.

  “You’ve been pretty quiet this past week. I’m guessing it has to do with Lacey, or you being more upset about our move than you’ve admitted.” She looks down at the floor. “Sorry.”

  In this moment I wish I didn’t understand so I can throw a fit. But I do understand, and I can’t. She’s doing her best. It was a fluke, seeing my face from Landon was a fluke. But I still watched a girl die. “Our house isn’t too close to the big house, is it?” Does my voice sound as horrible as I feel? Because I feel like screaming. But even that’s probably not enough of an outlet. I’ll just have to be better at hiding.

  “The property is all trees on our side. We can’t even see their house from ours. And… We have full access to the dock and the beach.” She knows this will be the best part of the deal for me.

  “I guess I get to help you pack.” My words come out in a resigned mumble, but my hands and insides still shake.

  “There’s not much.” She laughs a little, trying to lighten the situation.

  “I know.” I can so do this. I will do this. I have no choice. And even though I want to throw a fit. I can’t. I’ve lived with my mom long enough to know it won’t change anything.

  ***

  We pull into the Michaels’ driveway. The large gate opens with a card mom has in her pocket. We go up a small hill and their house comes into view. It’s more modern than I expected with only a few small windows on this side. The rest of the windows must face the ocean. The main door looks to be at least nine feet tall. I hope I never have to go through there.

  Mom pulls to the right, and the concrete driveway turns into a driveway with pavers in two even rows for the car tires.

  Our new driveway is long, and I can feel some of the tension from being this close to Landon’s house start to slip away.

  “Isn’t it magical out here?” Mom asks.

  The house is a bright spot in the midst of old, dark green trees. I can make out small pieces of ocean through the branches. And even though I don’t particularly like the forest—I always feel like I’m being watched—it really is amazing. I climb out of the car and see the path that heads downhill. We’ll explore the beach later. For now, I want to see our home.

  The house smells like what I’d imagine in a grandparents’ house. There’s a faint smell of earth, and dampness, but it’s nice, clean. There’s a laundry and coatroom to my left and a door to my right. The door is on swinging hinges and as I push it open, it reveals a bright yellow and white kitchen with a small table in the center. I let the door go. The hinges creak and the door makes a clacking sound as it swings back and forth. Happy. The worn, wood floors are probably original, and I look forward to sliding around on them in my fuzzy socks.

  “Your room is on the left,” Mom calls behind me.

  I peak through the door on the right into a bathroom. Mom’s room must be at the end of the hall. I step into mine. The walls are a soft blue, which immediately relax me. I breathe in, and even inside, I smell pine. There’s a large row of bushes on this side of the house, but there’s also a tall cherry tree. The daylight casts shadows of its branches that splay across the blue walls. It’s even worth living next to Landon for. We’ll probably never see one another anyway.

  “Pretty great, huh?” Mom stands in my doorway.

  I nod, still unsure how I feel about the whole situation.

  “Walk with me to the beach.” Sh
e gestures with her head away from my door.

  I follow but keep a lookout for the people whose property we now live on. It’s a good thing I don’t mind being inside. I may need to hide out and watch for a while to make sure I don’t run into anyone.

  She walks down the soft dirt path in front of me. I move slowly so I can look up. The branches of the large trees spread out far above me—a canopy of pine. The forest is dark and full of nothing but shadows and deep green. A flutter of movement makes me jump, but I know as well as anyone that the forest around here has to be full of small animals.

  I pause, trying to find the culprit, but see nothing.

  “Micah?” Mom stops, and I realize she’s quite a ways ahead.

  “Sorry.” I shrug. “Thought I saw something.”

  And even as I follow her down the trail, my eyes scan the trees, looking for whatever made me jump a moment ago. It could be anything, but still I look.

  The forest thins as we near the vast lawn that stretches from the house to the water. I look back up toward the Michaels’ house. It’s massive and practically nothing but a mask of windows I can’t see into.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?” Mom looks over her shoulder at the home sprawled out behind us.

  “Yeah.” I exhale.

  At the dock the trail takes a sharp turn left. From here I can see a teeny, tiny strip of sand. No one’s here. Hopefully it’s empty like this a lot. I don’t even realize how much tension I carried with me down here until I let it go. No wonder I stared into the trees for so long—I’m seriously on edge.

  “Okay, Mom? That is not a beach.” I point down. This is better. Joking with Mom is better than worrying about running into Landon.

  “Oh come on.” She laughs as she walks down the steps they have drilled into the rock. “There’s sand.”

  I follow her. “A teeny strip of it that disappears fifty feet that direction.” Into the rock and trees that touch the water’s edge.

  “I never said it was a big beach.” She chuckles in front of me.

  “So, Ethan set this up. Your boss and now…your boyfriend?” I start to lean to bump her with my hip, but then I remember that I don’t like to touch Mom as much as I used to.