I on the other hand had around a kilogram less makeup on and none of my clothes looked that expensive, actually they were all from the Tesco in town. Mom didn’t hand out cash for Chanel, she preferred the cash in the college fund.
“Tell this my dad! He thinks an old shabby car is essential as first car so that I’ll enjoy my second car even more.” In fact, it was his beloved car for a long time and I guessed he simply couldn’t get over it, losing it to some scrap dealer. So it became my first crabby car.
“Your old man is weird”, Jake proclaimed.
“He says the same about you.” Unnecessary to mention the two were not going along very well. Luckily, my dad didn’t own a shotgun like most of the other fathers in town. This was in complete contrast to my mom, who adored my boyfriend and already called him her future son-in-law.
Jake shrugged his shoulders indifferently. Whatever concerned my old man was very indifferent to him. “Once college is coming, we’re moving in together anyway.”
“You wish! He’ll kill you before that’ll happen.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
Sometimes his chauvinism really got on my nerves. Jake came with abs, my father wouldn’t stand a chance.
“I don’t want to interrupt you, planning your future, but we’re late for class.” That was John, Jake’s five minutes older twin-brother and Vicky’s boyfriend. Both completely identical and now and then even for Vicky and me hard to tell apart.
He was right, I arrived late here as mom’s car wasn’t working again and I had to bring my little sister to school first. The car park had already cleared significantly; our gang was almost the last.
Jake’s face crumbled. “Yeah, and we can’t have another remark in the class book, otherwise, Mr Smith calls our dad and that’s it then. House arrest and this means not attending Dean’s Party next week.”
“Don’t worry bro, we make up a story about weekend class or such nonsense.” His brother’s remark lifted his spirits and they shook hands as bros did. “There is no way I would miss one of Dean’s parties like those losers.” His chin jerked in the direction of two students who were just crossing the car park on their way to the main entrance.
“They should cancel their visa”, Vicky muttered and raised her voice. “We don’t deal with Black Sabbath here in Beacon Hills.”
I just wanted to stop Vicky from gossiping, when I realised who she was referring to. The two were dressed in black and grey, the girl was wearing black stockings with holes in it and a black mini skirt that belonged forbidden at school, black boots that were reaching up to her knees and which were last seen on Julia Roberts in Pretty Women, her grey T-shirt was many sizes too large and wasn’t doing a good job hiding her bra. The dark outfit continued with the colour of her fingernails, eyeshades, lipstick and mascara. I was just asking myself, why she didn’t colour her hair black too. No, instead her red hair conflagrated behind her like an angry firestorm of a volcano ready to destroy whatever got close to her. Early signs of aging or simply a joke of Mother Nature, her inferno was disrupted by a single white strand, starting at the hairline above her right eyebrow.
“That girl is a fashion nightmare”, Vicky said, her lips pursing in disgust.
“She has a name”, I reminded Vicky. I hated when she gossiped behind other people’s back that didn’t pass her fashion checklist.
“Tatiana, the Transylvanian witch”, John remarked for everyone to hear and casually put an arm around his girlfriend.
“I believe she’s from Slovakia”, I said.
“Isn’t that the same?”
“No, Transylvania is in Romania, a totally different country.”
“You were never there, you can hardly tell”, Jake put in and pinched me into the side. Luckily Vicky had taken care of my baby fat last year by torturing me through fitness class.
“Danny mentioned she looks stunning in her gymnastics outfit”, John said, his forehead crumbling. “I think Danny needs a new pair of glasses.” He didn’t. She looked more like a woman and her graceful, even sensual moves during gymnastics… luckily sport was strictly separated into boys and girls. No mixed classes.
His comment made Vicky laugh. “Anyway, he’s worse.”
My glance wandered to the boy in his dark hoodie, this extreme short haircut and dark hiking trousers were not making him look pleasant. But what was really unsettling about him were his dark eyes in which you could see almost no white at all. “Why is he wearing a hoodie, it’s summer?”
“Maybe there is no summer in Eastern Europe”, Jake said. “That’s why they look so grim each day. The babe could do with a tan.”
I wasn’t able to answer on his stupid comment as I just remembered my dream. He was the boy, who saved me from that giant spider. Of course, I couldn’t tell a soul about it. Admitting I was dreaming about him would be social suicide; even that it was a nightmare wasn’t putting any points into my defence.
John scratched his forehead. “I guess he’s hiding those hideous scars underneath.”
“Scars?” I finally brought out, when my mind had caught up again. I thought the scar that went all up his collarbone over his neck and ended behind his right ear was the only one.
“Yeah, his body is full of them. Cuts, burnings, even bites. Maybe the little witch at his side loves a bite any now and then. That’s what Transylvanians do, isn’t it. Count Dracula’s mistress. Anyway, I believe he’s getting beaten up by his father.”
“He has no father”, Vicky said. “I heard they’re cousins living together with their uncle.”
“An uncle, who doesn’t disagree with incest.” Another stupid comment from my boyfriend. Sometimes I really asked me why we’re dating, but then a look at him was enough to confirm my happiness. It was only testosterone I told myself and I was not really helpful, lowering it, I added in thoughts. On the other hand, he had a point. There was a chemistry between the two that was more than cousins, everyone was absolutely aware of the other, they were moving as one, understood each other without words. It were those small, insignificant signs that were giving them away.
“Whatever, the boy is either pruned for accidents or his uncle beats him up”, John added. “See there, he has another injury.”
I had a closer look. Underneath his right sleeve I could see the edges of a white bandage lurking out, exactly on the same spot where... my mouth opened wide. It was a dream, right?
Do I turn slowly into a nutcase? It’s only coincidence, Izzy.
He must have sensed I was staring at him, because he looked over his shoulder and our glances interlinked, while he continued his way to the entrance. There was recognition in his eyes and something else, maybe surprise that I remembered. Wasn’t he so sure I wouldn’t remember anything? He shook his head slightly as if telling me not to say a word about last night.
Coincidence, Izzy. A shower was running down my spine.
“Hey, freak, eyes off my girl”, Jake snapped at him. His glance lost the connection and focussed on my from testosterone overflow suffering boyfriend, not like do you want a fight, more like, I killed this demon last night within a minute, I bet I need less for you. He was dangerous, no evil, I realised and a sigh escaped me.
John didn’t miss the meaning either and charged already. “Any problems freak!”
Tatiana turned around, alarmed, she pulled on her cousin’s sleeve and almost dragged him through the entrance with its metal detector and into the building, into safety. And if you asked, not their safety, ours. But it was only a dream, Izzy. Sure, Jake would win this fight.
Jake made wild gestures behind their backs. “That’s right, freaks. We don’t want you here in U.S.A.” John joined in his laughter.
“He has a name”, I commented. “It’s Dimitri.”
What am I doing, defending the freak?
Jake placed his right fist into his other palm. “Someone should kick Dimitri’s bum.”
“About time”, Vicky added. “But I guess it would be an u
nfair fight, you two muscle-men against this slight figure. He would stand no chance.”
“You would be surprised”, I uttered, luckily no one noticed.
Again, Izzy, get a grip on you. It was barely a dream.
***
First class for today was English and everyone took their turn taking over an assigned character from Romeo and Juliet and reading from the script, everyone except Dimitri, who for whatever reason had memorised the lines and recited them as if understanding the screwed up mind of old Shakespeare. Fully unnecessary in my opinion, Mr Smith was adding fuel to the already explosive air by assigning Dimitri Romeo and me Juliet. Mark my words. If the third world war was starting today, Mr Smith would be to blame. It was hard reading those old lines, while the weirdo was gazing at me as if I was his reincarnated Juliet. Likely he imagined being in Verona instead of Mr Smith’s classroom as he ignored our teacher completely. I stumbled over the lines like a first grader and Mr Smith wasn’t the only one questioning my lingual skills.
“My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss”, the freshly assigned Romeo breathed in my direction. I flushed deep red, the blood in my ears almost muting out the class giggling behind me.
My turn. “Go… good pilgrim, you did wrong you kiss too much.”
“Your hand too much, Miss Parker”, Mr Smith corrected. “Patience, Miss Parker. Even if your mind is poled around kissing recently, we’re not there yet.”
“Oh”, I gasped with a scarlet face, burying my face behind my brunette veil of curls. “Your hand too much.” Stupid line. Who should understand this anyway? Actually me, I reminded myself. I usually enjoyed those old plays and should have recited this particular one by heart as well, if it wouldn’t be for my mind that in this very moment had decided to check out completely and left me behind as a brain-dead zombie, an overtired brain-dead zombie that was.
Jake and John found the scene less amusing, Jake, already claiming he would smash Romeo’s skull if the freak how he called him, would try to kiss me. Sure enough, the kissing scene wasn’t far off. Lucky me and lucky for the world, this wasn’t an acting class.
“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?” Dimitri continues, completely unaffected by the rest of the class’s chuckle and Jake’s death threats.
“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must user in kisses.”
“Prayers, Miss Parker. Prayers.”
Gosh, what’s up with me? My cheeks were that hot, they almost burned my skin. The next of Romeo’s line I didn’t get at all through the laughter, but once again, he managed to say it as if he meant every word. Despite I’m sitting in last row and he in the first near the classroom door, it felt as if we had a conversation of our own. If you idiot wanted to kiss me last night, why didn’t you when you had me nailed to the wall. It wasn’t as if I was able going anywhere.
A dream, Izzy. He was never there. It was only a dream, a weird one. What was wrong with me? I never dreamed about Jake and my superman of a boyfriend was definitely dream-material.
“Saints do not move, though grant for kisses sake.”
“Prayers, Miss Parker. It’s still prayers.”
Alright, the third world war would be the fault of Mr Smith and my temporary impaired reading skills.
However, Dimitri continued with a steady voice, ignoring even Mr Smith’s sigh who was unmistakably touched by frustration. “Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.” Damn this is the kissing scene. “Thus from my lips by thine my sin is purged.”
“Then have my lips.” To my annoyance my voice decided in that moment to take a turn for the worse and showed my embarrassment by ascending to never experienced climax. “…the sin that they have took.”
I was grateful for the doorbell saving me further embarrassment, shoved my stuff into the backpack and was out of the door before anyone could say a word.
Next class was art and luckily Dimitri wasn’t attending those lessons, but we saw each other again in American history. Mrs Jennings, an old bulldog of a patriot, was giving anyone a hard time, but Dimitri and Tatiana were suffering in her class to the extreme. Being from Eastern Europe, which was for poor Mrs Jennings the declared evil of communism, she tried converting them to the American way of life. Unfortunately, her endeavours were in vain. Dimitri didn’t show the slightest interest and neither did Tatiana, declaring the American dream an accumulation of fast food diners filled to the brink with oversized people. At least that had been their answer to Mrs Jennings question, how was their first expression of beautiful America after escaping their horrible existence of their third world country. That was four months ago, when the two had suddenly turned up in our classroom as transfer students from Eastern Europe. Their uncle had been transferred by his company to the US. It was only for a year, but the two were not pleased with this assignment. Finally, this feeling was mutual for Mrs Jennings.
“And with the surrender of the Japanese, the Second World War came to an end”, Mrs Jennings built herself up in front of Tatiana’s desk and watched her intensely over the rim of her thick glasses. “And Miss Ivanova, would you agree with me that this was a great American achievement, if not the greatest?”
Tatiana gazed confused at her, taken aback by surprise, then shrugged her shoulders. “Let me get this straight, Mrs Jennings.” It was her sweetest voice possible and I was sure the witch went into a counterattack, only that Mrs Jennings was completely oblivious about it. “America dropped a nuclear bomb on Japan that was originally intended for Berlin, but too bad, Nazi Germany surrendered before this new toy could have been played with, so the bomb went off over Japan by accident and this twice, which is a real coincidence, killing tens of thousands of people and whoever wasn’t killed in the initial blast perished by the radioactive rain in the weeks that followed. And you as a teacher of this educational establishment, if this could be described as such, are calling it, the greatest achievement?”
Mrs Jennings turned at first white, then composed herself and erupted into a volcano that declared a massive homework essay of ten pages with font size ten about the American role in the aftermath of World War Two. By the way, it didn’t add any popularity points for the freaks and as usual, they were sitting alone at lunch, not even sharing the table, but rested under a tree, cross-legged and facing each other. Their intimacy was intimidating. Dimitri pulled a leaf out of his cousin’s hair — I might have even accused her of putting it there in the first place only to get touched by him — while she wiped off some foot scrap from his chin with her index finger only to lick it off afterwards. This girl was unbelievable! Anyway, why was I so obsessed with watching them? Maybe because of their intimacy. Sure, there was a lot of kissing involved with Jake, but what they had was special, a bond that went far beyond friendship, a boy-girl relationship even a married couple. They were like soul mates. The bitter certainty grew inside me that this will never be the same between me and Jake, not like that. Sure, it will be.
“They’re disgusting, aren’t they?” Vicky pulled me out of my thoughts.
She must have been noticing me staring at them. I shook my head. “Just not superficial.”
“Really? Have you forgotten about the bloody homework, they dumped on us?”
“Of course, not, but Mrs Jennings couldn’t really have expected their agreement. Actually, now she just proved the opposite. Group punishment for not sharing her opinion? Shouts like Nazi methods to me. Obey or get punished.”
“Gosh, what’s wrong with you today? Anyway, how about shopping on Saturday. The shops are open till late and we need some sexy new swimwear and a set of new underwear. You know, I’m certain it happens to us on next week’s trip.” I know what she meant. Jake and I haven’t entered the next step of our relationship yet. I was a bit slow and Vicky was only holding back with John in order not to put me under pressure. That’s what best friends are for. But yes, this coming school excursion to Lake McKenzie would change everything. Again, I blushed d
eeply red.
Chapter III
The Accident
I was tired, exhausted, a headache forming in the back of my head and a pile of homework growing in my backpack and as usual, late. The latter wasn’t mine, but Jake’s fault. Saying farewell to my god of a boyfriend was never easy, even if he might come over later before dinner anyway. Vicky called those surprise-visits a good sign he’s really interested. Anyway, as exciting as the picture forming in my mind about us kissing in my bedroom was, it couldn’t silence the picture of a giant spider squashing me to the brick wall of Mr Donatello’s fruit and veggie shop or the one about a young boy, who all of a sudden turned into a bloodthirsty Berserker, about my rescuer and the wound and then me running out of class after the embarrassing reading of Romeo and Juliet. To shut out all of those torments, I turned up the volume of the radio, old Bruce singing Born in the USA, while the speedometer crossed the 50 miles per hour mark. Bruce and speed did its job and drove my thoughts away, leaving behind an empty vacuum. Singing helped as well. It was a short ride anyway; my family lived not fifteen minutes away from school and traffic at this time of the day, seldom a problem. Jake would have done it in seven and a half, but I was a slow driver or as Vicky in her 911 called it, a traffic block. Not today. All I wanted was going home, having a hot shower, an aspirin and half an hour of rest in bed, before getting anywhere near this pile of homework. The highway snaked around a rock formation, where speed limits were changing permanently. I didn’t have to look at them; I’d been driving this way a thousand times. Fair to say, I knew every sign, bumper and every turn by heart, could have driven it blindfolded. To my left and right were thick pine trees; and a bit further uphill, the road made a bend to the right around rocky hills loaded with more trees underneath rocky terrain. I slowed down entering the curve with Bruce’s song in its dying moments, when the world came down on me quick and fast. Right in front of me emerged a crash site of a pickup and an SUV. In panic, I pushed both feet onto the brake, making the tyres screech with an agonising sound, and turned the steering hard to the right that almost flipped the car over. It all went so horribly quickly, one moment I was on the road, the next moment everything spun around me. Not the wall was all I could think, when the grey rock came closer and closer. And a heartbeat later the car had stopped. I didn’t even realise that I had squeezed my eyes shut. With shaking hands and feet and a heart rate jumping off scale, I got out of the car and assessed the situation. Daddy’s good old Hyundai had a deep dent in the fender, which had killed the tyre and the side mirror was gone where I had hit the rock when the car had spun around, but everything else seemed fine. I looked behind me to the other two cars. Unfortunately, the situation was less promising. Both vehicles, the white pickup and the red SUV, had collided frontal. Glass was scattered all over the crash site, the SUV was measuring only half its size with the bonnet ripped to pieces. Whatever the speed had been, this was collateral damage. The pickup driver mustn’t have had his seatbelt on as his body had smashed through the front screen, blood ran bucket-wise over the deformed bonnet and dripped onto the asphalt.
Princess of Apocalypse Page 3