On my way I see Shana and decide to go and talk to her. When I approach she looks up at me, but I'm still ten feet away and didn't want to risk saying anything she wouldn't hear and trigger an awkward moment. I hold my arms out as I clear the remaining distance and she accepts my hug with no hesitation. She isn't crying, but I can tell the pain of losing her sister hasn't dulled any from the day it happened.
“I'm sorry for your loss,” I say for the tenth time. I feel like since I’m her best friend, I should have more things to say than what everyone else has already said.
“Do you want me to stay over for shivah?” I ask. Sitting shivah is another custom I don’t like. It’s when the mourning family stays in their house and well, mourns, devoid of anything that would be considered pleasurable. They don’t use hot water, shave, listen to music, or even leave the house for a whole week! The only interaction they will even get is from visitors like me and my family. It’s another custom I don’t want my family to uphold, because all it will do is hurt them further after my death. Some may not feel that way. Some may use the shivah as it’s intended, to set aside an official period of time suitable for mourning and to let it all out, but not me. It takes a while for her to muster a response, and she starts by shaking her head.
“Yeah, but some of my relatives will still be in town visiting for the first couple days, so not until Thursday. I need you to let the school know I won’t be back for a week,” she explains.
Oh right... school. It's Tuesday today and we have that essay to write. We haven't even started it, but I think Ms. Alder will forgive us in light of the circumstances. That is, unless she shares Leanne's point of view on my brother's survival.
“Don't listen to Leanne,” she says, as if hearing my thoughts.
“Huh?” I say.
“I overheard what she said. Don't listen to it. There's no reason for her to believe that it's not fair Adam's okay,” she says.
“Equal isn’t always fair,” I say in response.
“Alyssa, it's time for us to get going, we need to give the Hawthorn's some space with their family,” Dad calls. I turn and nod at him, then turn back to Shana. “
See you Thursday?” I ask. She gives me a forced smile and nods.
“Bring food,” she says. I turn back and head toward my family. As I walk, my mind hops back to Leanne. If that's the way that she really feels, then what about the others? Will all of them resent me?
5: The Sickness
I walk through the entrance of my school. The Cherokee County board of education is very creative with its school names. Here we have Murphy Elementary, Murphy Middle, and my school, Murphy High. It’s very shoddy though, and many residents of Murphy try to enroll their children into the high school in Andrews; Andrews High. I remember late last year when I walked through these doors in September. I bought into the myth that everyone would size me up and shun me because of my freshman status and that I'd have twenty pairs of eyes boring into my neck. I soon tossed that aside, but now I am expecting those same burning gazes, not because I'm a freshman walking into the high school building for the first time, but because I'm the “Lucky One.” I am the only one of around fifteen students that didn't lose a sibling in the crash. There are people in all grades that would happily switch places with me, and like Leanne, they may resent me because that won't happen.
I head straight into my first class, English. I walk into the doors and I am almost relieved to see that Leanne is absent. That little bit of relief drops when I see that Jason Larch is here, and he's giving me that hateful glare I've been anticipating all morning. What I wouldn't give to have Shana walking in with me right now. I try not to look at anyone else as I find my way to my desk, but I can sense more than one pair of eyes on me.
It's five minutes till class starts and it looks like Ms. Alder is in a hurry to prepare something. She looks away from her work just quickly enough to see me about to sit at my desk.
“Welcome back Alyssa,” she says.
“Th-thank you,” I stammer. I'm a little nervous about Ms. Alder, hoping that she won't bring up the creative history essay that's overdue. I look around at the other students and see that most of them are looking at the books on their desk or whispering amongst each other like normal. So that helps my mood a bit. I just hope that the gossip of the week isn't on me.
“Alright class, it seems that many of the students still haven't returned, but we can't delay any longer. Please open your books to chapter thirty,” she says. I realize that I don't know which book she means, but rather than asking on impulse, and drawing attention to myself. I steal a gaze to my right and see that everyone is opening their literature books. It's a good thing I looked, because if I had to guess I would have opened grammar
Ms. Alder is a stout woman, but not really fat. She looks like a woman that simply doesn't have the will to exercise but still doesn't eat too much, and at her age it's starting to take its toll. She has short sandy brown hair and bangs that cover half of her forehead, which is a little too big. She wears contacts, but with her physique, she'd look better off with actual glasses. She acts as both our history and our English teacher, which is where my whole dual-subject assignment comes from. She leads us through the next chapter, which is on multicultural literature, a topic that generally bores me. Her class isn't very interactive as she reads from the text verbatim, so my mind wanders. I guess that's why my grades are falling.
I look around and see Jason Larch just about as entertained as I am. Didn't he get arrested? I think. Why did the sheriff let him off so easily? He's normally not a pushover. I notice that Jason has a little bruise on his nose, but it doesn't look broken. Something peculiar about that bruise is how visible it is from ten feet away. I realize that his skin has paled a bit, quite like Leanne's. She had a nosebleed, and so did Lionel, who's also paled. Is everyone getting sick? I take my attention from him and notice that very few of the other students appear sick. In fact, even Lindsay Willow isn’t sick looking, and she has been around Lionel. Must not be a very contagious thing though, otherwise I'd have it by now, because my immune system is terrible and I get sick at least every quarter.
After Ms. Alder reads the chapter to us, she stands up and offers a fifteen minute break to everyone. Most of the kids jump up as they have a sudden realization that they are about to wet themselves and they're dying of thirst, and pretty soon, it's just Ms. Alder and me. I should get up and go too, I think, but as I do she addresses me.
“Hey Alyssa, we missed you this week,” she says.
“Yeah, sorry,” I say, even though we did have permission to skip school due to the accident.
“It's not too much to hope you've finished your essay?” she asks. I cringe, that's the subject I've been dodging.
“No, Shana and I were gonna work on it, and make stories that work together but-,”
“Don't worry, only three students have turned in their essays on time, but I do need yours by the end of the week, and Shana's too,” she says, and that reminds me.
“Oh, um, Shana won't be able to,” I say.
“Her family is sitting shivah- in mourning and it's a custom that they don't leave the house for a week,” I continue.
“Well if she's at home she can work on it there, and you can bring it for me?” she suggests.
“They're really not supposed to do any work during the shivah,” I say.
“Well just run it by her,” she says. I nod.
“Can you help me with this?” she asks, opening the classroom closet. I stand up and walk over to her and as I get over there, she's hauling a television set out.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask.
“Find me The Joy Luck Club in there? My eyes aren't the best,” she explains. I look and see that it's a pretty old television set, and pretty small. I wonder how she thinks even the front row students will see it well.
I go into the closet and sort through the mess inside. It's full of extra textbooks, pencils, and other items f
or school, and with no sort of organization. No wonder she's having trouble finding a single DVD in here. I look around a bit and realize that there don't seem to be any DVD cases in sight. Then I realize that The Joy Luck Club is an old movie, and that's an old television. So I'm probably looking for a VHS cassette. After making that realization, I see a line of VHS boxes, but a lot of them are empty. In fact, there are a few cassettes strewn about. Isn't there supposed to be some student body president to fix these kinds of problems? Maybe I should say something about this to my Dad, the vice principal and see if he can get the school's equipment up to date, or at least organized.
I find the movie, or at least think I do. The sticker on the tape is pretty badly faded, but I'm sure I can make out the title with what remains of the tape.
“Here,” I say, handing the cassette to Ms. Alder. She takes it and puts it into the VCR she just hooked up underneath the television. I see that some of the students are filing back into the classroom.
“Is there anything else you need?” I ask, brushing myself off, although the closet isn't as dusty as you'd think.
“No that should do it. Take your seat please,” she says. After a few button pushes, she starts the movie. She lets it run through the previews, which I think is a tremendous waste of class time alongside a full fifteen minute break. During the previews, Jason returns to the room, and he stares me down for a few seconds before taking his seat. He's got some toilet paper stuffed into one of his nostrils. So he has a nosebleed too. I guess that's why Ms. Alder didn't render a “What took you so long?”
My seat is at an angle from the television, but I can see it pretty well. After the previews though, something triggers a sense of unease with me. At first, I think my arm is just falling asleep, but it starts to feel more like a static tingling, and it courses through me like wind. I instinctively look around for that static shadow, but I don't see it. What I do see is Jason stifling a cough and the girl sitting next to him inching away in disgust, as if she's afraid he'll contaminate her. The static wave- I should say, is gone by now, but I see some of the other students in the class squirming about in a similar manner, as if they felt it too.
I turn my attention to the movie and realize what we've been subjected to, a long, boring drama that we will probably have to write an essay about. My body releases a yawn at the thought and I realize that I feel sleepy- very sleepy. I wasn't feeling tired at all this morning, not with the nervousness of being hated, so a sudden need to fall asleep at my desk comes off as a little strange to me. The movie- or ‘feature presentation’ begins, but as the drowsiness sets in deeper, the sound starts fading. I fight to keep my eyelids open, and see that the sound is distorting into static bursts.
Ms. Alder gets up and begins toggling the cords, but it only worsens as the video starts going out. I hear a groan. Is someone really disappointed that we don't get to watch this movie? I turn and see Jason, eyes closed, but twitching. He groans again, and twitches a little more. I think I know what's happening. The fit I had in the hospital when I dozed off and saw that entity for the first time. Jason's having it now. I contemplate waking him up, but figure someone like him probably deserves to be stuck in a nightmare for a few minutes. I wonder if he's dreaming about shadows and static too. Then my mind hops back to the television.
It strikes me as odd that after I and probably some of the other students felt a wave of static pass through us, and then the television- that Ms. Alder is ferociously trying to fix with the all-powerful toggle method, distorts, Jason would be having a nightmare. The static actually seems to come from his direction. At the thought, another wave hits me. The drowsiness I'd only just managed to knock off comes again, and this time, I keep my eyes closed for about two seconds to see if it will help.
When I open my eyes, the fiend is there. It's right in front of Jason, and looming over him. It's slim and shadowy, and looks like it could be a person if not for the way its body contorts and shakes like- like static, giving it an indefinite form. It's all black from what I can see and I only look at it for a second before I react with a loud gasp. I blink, and it's gone, but Jason is awake and looking at me. In fact, everyone is looking at me. Some of them look tired and confused, others look annoyed, but Jason's gaze is different. It's not the hateful one that he and Leanne have been giving me. It's a gaze that says
“So you saw it too?
“Alyssa?” says Ms. Alder. She's been toying with the television, and now the video is back on, except not as good a quality as it originally was. Did it leave? I think. Ms. Alder is giving me a quizzical look.
“Oh, yeah. There was spider, it was tiny, but it crawled into my sleeve… and startled me, sorry,” I say. Ms. Alder nods.
“Try and keep quiet,” she says. Throughout the rest of the class we watch the movie in its horrible half-visible quality. I hope she doesn't expect us to do an essay on this, because even when I do try and pay attention I don't understand anything that's happening. For the most part, I'm too busy thinking about that thing that I- and now possibly Jason, have seen. After class, we have lunch period, and I'm on my way when I get grabbed from behind. It's Jason. He pushes me against a wall.
“You saw him?” he asks.
“H-him?” I stammer. I've never been intimidated by Jason, but he’s never gotten in my face and held me against a wall before. He's putting a lot of weight against my shoulder, and it kind of hurts, but I don't think that's his intention. Still, I'm contemplating using my pepper spray on him, but I'm not sure it's a bad enough situation to risk having my only self-defense item confiscated over.
“Don't play dumb. You saw Kenny too?” he growls.
“No, I didn't see him,” I answer truthfully. Was his nightmare about Kenny?
“You looked right at him and then screamed,” he presses.
“No, I, it wasn't him,” I choke, trying to push his hand off. He doesn't move.
“Hey!” I hear. Jason and I both look and see none other than my dad. He's looking Jason dead in the eye and frowning at him, but it's an angry frown, that's meant to be intimidating, but looks more like a moping face. “Get your hands off my daughter,” says Dad.
Jason jerks away from me, and storms off, but not before giving me one more glare and saying, “He wants my help, and I'm gonna do it,” he says.
“What?” I ask, but he's got his back turned to me now.
“Are you alright,” asks Dad.
“Yeah, yeah, he's just-”
“No excuses, if he touches you again knock his lights out, and I'll have him arrested,” he interrupts. I wonder how exactly Dad expects me to knock the lights out of someone like Jason, but I just give him a nod.
“Roger,” I say.
“I came to get you,” he continues.
“Come on, we're going to get Adam, they're letting him go,” he says. My eyes light up. Adam's finally coming back! They said they'd only need him for a couple more days, but it's the fifth day. I don't hesitate, I don't argue, I don't even grab my backpack, and my dad and I are in the car on the way to the hospital in less than five minutes.
At the beginning of the drive to Andrews, I feel joyous, and am highly anticipating getting to hug my little brother again when he’s awake, but later in the ride, I have time to think. I think about that static entity I’ve seen thrice now. I’ve seen it too many times for it to be some kind of hallucination, as I’m not on any medication to induce them, and although the recent events have downed me severely, I’m not depressed enough to conjure them.
The only possible solutions I am able to think up, are that either A: it’s some kind of ghost, or entity like the Boogeyman; or B: it’s got something to do with the disease that’s making everyone pale and giving them nosebleeds, which doesn’t add up as much even though it would be the more scientifically acceptable solution. Then I am struck with worry. If it is an omen, and I saw it first at the hospital, does that mean something is going to happen to Adam?
We pull up to the community hospita
l, and my door is open before the car comes to a full stop.
“Whoa, careful!” shouts Dad, but I am already walking a brisk pace to the hospital. I don’t want to make a scene, because it’s only a hunch, but the tension is building up inside.
When I get indoors, I don’t stop at reception, I don’t check the map on the wall. My feet guide me exactly where I need to go from memory. I make a numerous rights and lefts with the white walls decorated with portraits of nameless child models mark my path. When I get to one of a two little kids shooting each other with water pistols I recall the almost concealed door to the stairway. I open the gray door and go up two flights, after a few more turns here and there I’m in the hallway we awaited the fate of our loved ones in. I don’t enter the intensive care ward though. I continue until I get to the end of the hall, and make another left.
There are two double doors on my right. They lead to the recovery ward. I am about to enter when I hear my dad’s voice in conversation with someone, but they aren’t behind me. Ding! I look to the left and see an elevator door open, and my Dad steps through accompanied Dr. Spruce, now with a happier look on her face. I am ready to face-palm myself. The elevator!
“…here she is. I’m telling you she just took right off!” says Dad to Dr. Spruce.
“Eager to see her little brother?” she smiles. I nod back and she leads us through the recovery ward. I don’t take off this time, lest they have some teleportation device that will get us there faster, but they don’t. We enter Adam’s room and I am surprised to see him already out of bed in a wheelchair being pushed by the nurse that almost wordlessly relayed the fate of Kenny to the Larches. I look at Adam with a smile, but it drops quickly as I see that not only is he not smiling back, but no color has returned to his face, and he puts a bloody tissue up to his nose stifling a nosebleed.
6: The Sadness
Vegetable alfredo and falafel sticks with hummus. I smell the aroma of the food resting in my arms, and can almost taste it. We cooked this for the Hawthorn’s and are bringing it to them. It’s not traditional for people to use appliances while sitting shivah, so family and friends often bring meals during visits. The aroma is mouthwatering, and I can’t wait to eat it. I am riding in the car driven by my parents. Bubbe is staying at home to watch Adam (she isn’t too close to the Hawthorns), but the rest of us are paying a visit, and we will be every day until Wednesday, when the Hawthorns can return to their business.
The Slender Man Page 4