Phantoms of the Otherworld (In Spiritu Et Veritate)

by Reed, Zoe

“It’s a little weird. I really ruined their trust in me.” I watched them both nod in understanding.

  “What about Changing?” Camille shut her locker and rested her shoulder against it, turning to face me.

  This was only the third day I’d been gone, but I felt like the space was doing Camille and I good. She was talking with me a little more easily, and starting to make regular, if brief, eye contact.

  “Yesterday was tough, and today’s been even harder,” I admitted as we began to push our way through the crowded halls toward the counselor’s office. “And I don’t have a phone to call you guys when I need to run. Can we plan a meeting time? Every night if it’s not too much.”

  Luna smiled and nodded. “Yeah, definitely. One of us can always be there. How about twelve, every night?”

  We reached the front office, and I turned before opening the door. “Sounds good, thanks. I’m going to be late for my appointment. I’ll see you tonight.”

  Luna and Camille said ‘bye,’ and then I opened the door to the main office and walked nervously to the front desk. The secretary looked up at me, impatiently smacking her gum and tapping her pencil, waiting for me to speak. “Hi, um, I’m supposed to meet with Mrs. Hunter.”

  “Kayla?” The secretary popped a bubble and raised an eyebrow at me, and I had to refrain from rolling my eyes that she’d pronounced my name wrong. I nodded, not bothering to correct her. “She’s waiting for you. That’s her office right there.” She pointed to a door behind the large desk she was at and to the left.

  I told her ‘thanks’ and made my way to the room. When I reached the office door I knocked and heard a ‘come in’ from the other side. Timidly, I stepped in, carefully and lightly closing the heavy door behind me, too anxious to make any noise with it.

  “You must be Kyla?” Mrs. Hunter looked up from some papers she’d been shuffling through with a big, friendly smile on her face.

  I was surprised at how young she was. When I thought of a school psychologist I pictured some old lady with white hair, wrinkled skin, and glasses hanging on a colorful chain around her neck. Nor did I expect someone attractive, but I was clearly mistaken. Dark brown eyes glittered amiably underneath her black-rimmed glasses, and although the young woman was a bit shorter than me, she had a splendidly full, curvy figure. At that reflection I cursed the wolf hormones raging through me. I wasn’t in any way attracted to the woman, but I couldn’t keep from noticing.

  I quickly dismissed my thoughts, and the nervousness started to grow. What was I supposed to do with a counselor? Instead of saying anything, I nodded hesitantly.

  The woman walked over and stuck out her hand for me to shake, causing me to jump at the movement. Jesus, calm down. She’s not going to attack you. While she made every word and smile exaggeratedly friendly, her movements were slow and careful, purposefully avoiding being intimidating. “I’m Mrs. Hunter, but please, call me Amber.”

  I squeamishly took the woman’s hand and gave a small, shy smile. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Please, have a seat.” Amber motioned to a pair of chairs in the far corner of the small room. I sat in one while she sat in the other. “Have you ever spoken with a psychologist before?”

  “No.” I felt small in the large armchair. It was soft, and I sank right in, feeling engulfed by it.

  Mrs. Hunter smiled comfortingly. “The most important thing for you to know is that anything said in here is strictly between you and I, unless you or someone else is in danger. Then I’m required by law to say something.” I nodded awkwardly, unsure of what was supposed to come next. “So,” Amber started expectantly, but stopped after the word.

  “So,” I repeated, still unsure. Mrs. Hunter. Amber. I tested the words in my mind. I felt uncomfortable with calling an authoritative figure by her first name, but that’s what I’d been told to do. I decided I’d try to avoid calling her anything. “What happens now?”

  “I’m here to listen. Anything you want to talk about, or just to say out loud, I’m all ears.” Amber leaned back in her chair to get comfortable, and waited patiently for me to say something.

  I was shocked at the informal tone with which our meeting had started. I’d been half-expecting to have to lie down on a couch in a cold room, and answer questions while Mrs. Hunter took notes on a yellow legal pad. Now I just sat in the big leather armchair, stiffly glancing around the room. Even though the office was small and decorated quite sophisticatedly, it was homey and warm. The walls were a light cream and trimmed in a dark, rich brown – a color I noticed matched Amber’s eyes and the chairs we sat in.

  “And if I don’t have anything to say?” I asked curiously, testing the criterion of my visits.

  “I can wait until you do.”

  It was silent for little a while after that. I could feel Mrs. Hunter’s eyes on me, and I occasionally met them with my own. But every time, when I remembered I had nothing to say, I smiled nervously and rapidly looked away. I read each of the few credential plaques hanging on the wall. There were three. One was from a university, and the other two from organizations I’d never heard of. I studied all of the photographs placed around the room. Amber wasn’t in any of them alone. Out of the six pictures I noticed two were pictures with friends, three were of a small poodle dog, and one was of Mrs. Hunter and a man. I glanced to her left hand. Yep, a nice-sized diamond-ring. Safe to assume the man was her husband.

  Before long I sat there twiddling my thumbs, and soon after I resorted to shaking my leg and tapping my foot on the floor. It didn’t take long before the silence started to gnaw away at me. I looked at the clock. It had only been fifteen minutes. Too bad it felt like an hour.

  “What college did you go graduate from?” I asked, crossing my legs and sitting straighter in the chair.

  Amber smiled, obviously also glad that the silence had been broken, whether or not we were talking about me. “UCLA, it’s down south, in Los Angeles. I graduated about six years ago.”

  “How come you’re working in a small town like this?”

  She chuckled to herself. “I grew up here. I tried the city life while in college, and it didn’t suit me too well. Have you lived in the city?”

  “No,” I shook my head. “I moved here from Texas a few months ago.”

  “Why’d you move here of all places?”

  I glanced around tensely. Something about the way Mrs. Hunter spoke was encouraging. Perhaps it was the nice tone of her voice, or the fact that she made just the right amount of eye contact. Whatever it was, there was also the fact that I’d always been talkative, and I worried that if we kept speaking I’d accidentally say too much. “My uncle lives here,” I told her cautiously.

  “Walters,” Amber said my last name aloud. “Rob Walters is your uncle?”

  “That’s him,” I nodded matter-of-factly.

  “And how do you like it here?”

  I exaggeratedly closed my mouth, slinking down in the chair and wishing things would keep from getting awkward. I felt bad, like I was being rude, but I was afraid. I couldn’t let the conversation carry on further.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” Amber whispered, more to herself.

  I shook my head, “I like it.”

  I feared the question I thought was coming. Then why did you leave? I braced myself for the guilt that would flood with the inquiry. I wanted so badly for someone who wasn’t a werewolf to understand, to tell me that I was right for not going home, right for not putting my family in danger.

  I assumed the fear I felt deep down showed in my eyes, because Amber changed the subject. “What kind of stuff are you interested in?”

  I sighed with relief. “Like, hobbies?” A nod. “I play guitar.” I glanced at the clock, and Amber followed my gaze. It had been thirty minutes.

  “I think you did well for your first time.” Mrs. Hunter smiled and stood up.

  After saying bye I left to go home. For the week after that I snuck out of my window and ran with Camille and Luna every night. Som
etimes it was just Luna, and other times it was just Camille. My meetings with Mrs. Hunter continued much the same as they had the first day. We made small talk and got to know the basics about each other. I found out her husband’s name was Rick, and he worked as a car salesman in San Joaquin. They met at UCLA, and Rick fell in love with the simple lifestyle of living in a small town. The small black dog in the photos was Pluto. They wanted kids in the future, but for now Pluto was enough work. I let Mrs. Hunter know certain irrelevant details, like my birthday and random things about my family, but any time I felt we were getting too close to talking about what happened to me I shut down until the subject was changed.

  A week after I’d been home I sat in film studies, exhausted from the lack of sleep. We were watching an old black and white film I couldn’t even remember the name of. It just played in the background as I lay with my head on the desk, trying to tune it out so I could fall asleep. The night before I’d been caught for the first time sneaking back in from a run with Luna, and now, not being able to fall asleep, I had nothing to do but think about it. I’d left my window open and climbed the tree outside of it as a ladder to get back through. I’d been so tired from that particular run that I didn’t notice my father sitting there in the dark, waiting for me to return.

  He flipped on the lights once I closed the window, and the second he did I could see the fury etched on his face. He’d yelled and yelled about rules and dangers and not knowing if I’d ever be coming home. I told him I’d only gone for a walk, but that wasn’t specific enough. Or he didn’t believe me. Either way he continued to yell. I tried not to hold it against him. I could only imagine how hard it had to be to think that at any time they’d never see me again. And of course I felt guilty about defying them, but I didn’t have a choice. Without sneaking out and Changing I’d be putting them all in danger.

  The sudden silence broke through my thoughts. The period was almost over, and the teacher had just turned off the movie and flipped the lights back on. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Camille stealthily looking back at me, so I swiveled my head toward her to let her know she’d been caught. She instantly turned around and ran a hand through her hair, pretending like she hadn’t been looking at me, and I wondered how long she’d been watching me for.

  Finally the bell rang, and Camille took stride beside me as we left the room. “Luna told me your dad caught you sneaking out.”

  I sighed deeply and simply nodded. I’d been so upset about it that it only added to my difficulty sleeping. I hadn’t gotten a wink all night. For the whole day I’d been tired and grumpy, and talking about it was the last thing I wanted to do.

  “Well, are you okay?” she pressed, the concern in her voice apparent even though I wasn’t looking at her.

  I waited until we reached our lockers to answer, at which point I turned and leaned my back against them. I tried not to get grumpy at her, it wasn’t her fault, but my nerves were shot, and my emotions already at extremes. I couldn’t keep my voice from sounding short and agitated. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  Camille studied my face for a moment before opening her locker and whispering to herself, “You don’t sound fine.”

  I sighed again, but this time it was a harsh, aggravated huff of breath. I was already almost too frustrated to function, and the sarcasm behind her tone put an aching pain in my chest. “Okay, no, I’m not fine. I’m tired and pissed. I can’t sleep. I get yelled at for things that I have no choice but to do. My parents have no faith in me.” I swallowed past the growing lump of despair in my throat. “Do you know how hard it is to see the disappointment on their faces every time they think I fuck up? It’s hard, Camille, and no one can understand that. Not even you.” I stood there for a second, too blinded by emotions and exhaustion to see the look on her face, but I was glad I couldn’t see it. I knew it only would have made me feel worse.

  Without saying goodbye or going to my locker I started down the hall. I wanted desperately to leave, to be alone, but I had to go see Mrs. Hunter. Fine, I’d go see her. And I did, and practically stormed into the counselor’s small office.

  “You want to know an intimate detail about me?” I stood in front of Amber’s desk, the woman now looking up at me, clearly startled by the volume of my voice. “Did you know I was seeing someone? After I moved here. Not for long, but God, was I in love. Still am too, and no matter what I do it never gets easier. I have nothing left to give and I can’t do a damned thing right by anybody.” The second I finished my short rant I couldn’t stop a single tear from falling down my cheek, and my face flushed red. I hadn’t meant for Mrs. Hunter to ever hear any of that. I’d never wanted the woman to have the privilege of real knowledge about me, but now that I’d let it out, even though I was embarrassed and on the verge of a breakdown, it felt good.

  Amber stood up and, with eyes full of concern, ushered me to the armchairs. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone. What happened with him?” she asked as she sat down across from me.

  “Her,” I corrected simply and honestly, too tired to worry about making up a lie.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.” If she was surprised she didn’t show it, instead she kept the look of concern and focus on me. “So, you’re gay?”

  “No.” The defensive tone with which I said the negation was my first instinct, but I quickly realized I didn’t need to be defensive. She wasn’t judging me. “Well, I mean, yeah, I guess.”

  Amber nodded, a comforting nod meant to encourage the ease with which I was talking to her. “Do your parents know?”

  I shook my head, sniffling to clear the water from my sinuses. “But that’s not the point.”

  “What is the point?”

  “The point is,” I took in a deep breath, holding back the fresh tears that stung my eyes, “The point is that if I had her back then all of this wouldn’t be so hopeless, because if she forgave me I’d have one less thing to feel so damn guilty about. Because with her, I could deal with being a disappointment to everyone else.”

  Amber was silent for a few moments while she thought about which part of my confession to comment on. She still looked concerned for me, but there was also a certain curiosity she couldn’t hide. “What does she have to forgive you for?”

  I stared into the counselor’s eyes, delving as deep as I could to measure the amount of trustworthiness in them. Again I took a deep breath. I’d already said so much. Why not get it off my chest? Give me one less thing to keep to myself. “For breaking her heart. For breaking up with her and crushing the happiness out of her, and you want to know the worst part? I can see it. Every time I look into her eyes I can see the pain I caused. The pain she has to put up with every day, and it kills me.”

  Amber let another moment of sympathetic silence pass by. “How come you broke up with her?”

  “But that’s the thing!” I nearly shouted, and I watched her jump from the unexpected noise. “I said the words, but I didn’t really break up with her. I never wanted to, never in a million years would have even thought about it, but he made me do it, and she hasn’t forgiven me for having to.”

  “He made you do it? Like an authority figure?” I didn’t like the tone Amber’s voice took on. A protective tone, like she thought someone had threatened me. That was the exact truth, but she could never know that.

  I bit my lip, instantly regretting how far I’d let my confession go. “Yeah, sure, something like that.”

  Amber picked up on the ambiguity I was trying to enforce, and enforced her own sense of authority. “Kyla, I realize this is hard for you to talk about. But no one hurt you, did they?”

  Yes! He hurt me in too many ways to count! He took everything! He – no, stop. It didn’t happen. “No, no one hurt me.”

  I waited for Amber to say something, but she just nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer. I could see the wheels turning in the counselor’s mind. There was something she wanted to know, but even after how much I’d just opened up it was
clear she didn’t know how far she could push it.

  “Is that why you left?” The counselor’s voice was soft, inquiring but far from forceful.

  I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing now. I was embarrassed to be telling all this to someone I barely knew, and even more embarrassed that now I was crying about it. But wasn’t this the release I needed? “I never left.”

  “Isn’t that why you’re here?” she started, her voice confused. “I thought you ran away from home?”

  “I didn’t run away,” I said briskly, and a little bit too abrasively. I instantly turned the corners of my mouth up in an apologetic smile. “Just stayed away.” I could feel myself getting tired, exhausted of talking, but I still had about fifteen minutes left of my session. Fifteen minutes until I could go home and catch up on much needed sleep.

  “Can I ask you something else, Kyla?”

  I shrugged. “Might as well.”

  “Your parents mentioned some dogs.” The volume with which Amber spoke dropped, like she knew she was treading on thin ice and any second it would fall apart.

  My heart started pounding. Dogs could mean anything, and I prayed she didn’t mean werewolves. “What dogs?”

  “Your uncle’s dogs.”

  “Blue and Brandy,” I whispered, every bit of that frightful night flashing before my eyes and causing me to cringe. Before Jonathan took me, he’d poisoned my uncle’s two Gordon Setters. It was unnecessary and cruel, and even now it made me sick. Then my head shot up, and I stood as I realized what she might be implying. “I didn’t kill those dogs!”

  “I didn’t say you did,” Amber said softly, trying to calm me. “But you know you can tell me who did.”

  I glared. I didn’t like that she even knew they’d been killed on purpose. “It doesn’t matter who did.”

  “I know you’re scared, Kyla, but–”

  “Scared? I’m not scared of anything!” I fumed. This woman had no right to keep bringing up what happened that night. I’d been working so hard on fitting into my new life and forgetting about it, the last thing I needed was to be vividly reminded. I was tired, running on too little sleep for so much emotion, and the defensive itching started in my fingertips. Shit. “I have to go.”