The Tragedy of Power

by Ian Withrow

  The bell at the end of class was piercing, and it made Lauren jump, eliciting snickers from the back of the class. Scooping up her bag, Lauren looked at her schedule. English was next.

  Lauren enjoyed books. The solitude of a steaming cup of cocoa and a good romance novel was, in her opinion, a fantastic use of time.

  “Hey.” A female voice from beside Lauren. “You're the girl from out of town, right? Moved into the old Miller place a few years back?”

  The girl speaking looked about Lauren's age, though considerably more developed. She had mature curves, and an exotic, Latin countenance. Luxurious, midnight-black hair framed dark brown eyes that perfectly suited her bronzed skin.

  Lauren nodded shyly. “Yea, my mom and my dad and I moved from up North.”

  The girl nodded appreciatively.

  “You're a city girl, huh? Lemme guess, Chicago, right?”

  Lauren sensed a hint of derision in the way she said the name. The hairs on the back of her neck pricked up a bit.

  “Yep, we lived in the suburbs since I was a little kid,” Lauren began in a cheery tone, hoping to win the girl over. As she spoke, several other girls their age approached, arranging themselves behind the young woman.

  “C'mon, Lita,” another girl said in a disinterested tone as she approached the group. “Oh my god, you're a girl?”. She barked out a laugh, looking Lauren up and down, disdain clear on her face.

  “Ay Dios Mio, Lita, she looks like a homeless person.”

  Lauren was a little taken aback by the tone and severity of the girl's words. She knew she looked silly, her dirty, mismatched clothes were a raw nerve that the girls words found easily. Anger bubbled up within her. How dare this girl speak to her like that?

  “Well, screw you, too.” The words slipped from Lauren's lips before she could stop herself. The stress of her morning had turned her normally patient demeanor sour.

  Lita punched Lauren in the middle of her stomach, hard. The unexpected blow left her breathless and her eyes opened wide in shock. She had never been struck by another person before.

  “You're gonna have to learn your place around here, bitch,” Lita whispered threateningly..”

  Lauren's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and pain, and her eyes were wide with shock.

  Lita raised a finger to brush a strand of loose hair out of Lauren's face, but she flinched away.

  “Shame, you're almost pretty.”

  Lita followed her words with a hard shove, sending Lauren sprawling to the floor.

  Mr. Harrison seemed to appear from nowhere. Suddenly Lauren couldn't understand why she had ever disliked him. He helped her to her feet as Lita took on a simpering, innocent tone and looked down at her with mock concern.

  “Oh my gosh, Lauren! Are you ok? You must have slipped on all that mud on your shoes,” condescension slipped into her tone as she ended her sentence.

  The girls left, cackling to themselves as they did so. Mr. Harrison moved to help Lauren to her feet but she recoiled, unwilling to make physical contact.

  “Don't worry” he said, hands still outstretched awkwardly. “The first day of class is always the hardest, right!”

  She certainly hoped so.

  The hallways were starting to clear and Lauren got the distinct impression that she was about to be late, again. She thanked her teacher and rushed off to her next class.

  When she got to the door of the classroom, she saw most of the other students were still milling about in the hallway, catching up on their summer vacations. Lauren took the opportunity to slip into the room and look for a seat near the back.

  When she got into the room she paused to take stock. The walls were lined with bookcases, each over-stuffed with books of every size and color. There seemed to be only one other student. At least, she thought they were a student. A charcoal hoodie and a pair of jet black jeans seemed to be occupying the far corner of the room. The person wearing them had his, or her, head down on the desk and seemed to be dozing.

  Lauren felt the urge to sit as far from the door as possible, so she took the seat adjacent to the mysterious figure in the back row.

  After taking her seat, Lauren occupied her mind by scanning the titles of the books nearest to her. Weiss, Hickman, Seuss, Bronte, Lackey, Salvatore, Heinlein. There seemed no rhyme or reason to where a particular title or author might be found. They weren't grouped by genre, nor were they in alphabetical order. As she sat trying to discern the system she knew had to exist, she heard a muffled voice from the hoodie speak to her.

  “Your socks don't match.”

  Exasperated, and already on the defensive, Lauren replied sharply, “What's it to you?”

  The figure sat up, curly red hair falling from below the hood as a pale, freckled face revealed itself.

  “Sorry, I tend not to think before I speak, I didn't mean to offend you.” The girl had a small but beautiful voice. Her face was childlike, with slightly chubby cheeks, and small features, aside from her huge green eyes.

  Lauren apologized, feeling like an ass for having snapped at the girl, and introduced herself.

  “Erin Engle, nice to meet you.” The girl stuck out a hand. She wore black nail polish, and a wide black cloth band on her wrist. The tail end of a half-healed cut poked out the end of the wristband.

  Lauren caught herself staring at the girls hand, unsure what to do.

  “I'm sorry, I, um, I'm germaphobic,” Lauren stuttered out, terrified that if she shook Erin's hand her cut would heal, and she would be discovered. Erin looked a little hurt, and largely unconvinced, she began to return her head to the desk.

  “I'm sorry, I know it's weird,” Lauren began, desperate not to ruin what might be her only good encounter of the day. “I just have a thing about touching people, that's all. It really is good to meet you.”

  With the petite redhead to talk to, English class was considerably easier than Biology had been, and with Erin as a guide, the rest of the day was fairly tolerable as well. She showed Lauren to her classes, and sat next to her in the ones they shared. Erin filled Lauren in on the local politics of the student body. It was a dizzying nest of intrigue and drama.

  The two hit it off nicely, with Erin's particular brand of introversion meshing well with Lauren's. It seemed Erin was given wide berth by Lita and her gang, though snide remarks followed the two of them throughout the day.

  Aside from lunch, when Lita and several of her girlfriends started pretending to trip over imaginary obstacles and making birdlike cawing noises any time Lauren walked past, the day progressed more and more smoothly as time went on.

  Chapter Four:

  Lauren hated driving in the snow, it made her nervous. She knew she had no reason to fear for herself, but the idea of losing control of the two tons of metal she was driving and potentially hurting someone else was terrifying. Despite the massive snowfall of the night before, school had not been canceled, so she was on her way to Erin's house to pick her up.

  Over the last year and a half their friendship had blossomed into the single greatest facet of her high school experience. Lauren was still the butt of most jokes at the school, highlighting the insular nature of the small town she resided in, but Erin was always nearby to cheer her up.

  Erin had a deadpan, sarcastic sense of humor that caught most people off guard, and a nihilistic outlook that ostracized her to everyone but Lauren, who found it fascinating.

  The truck hit a pothole in the frozen dirt and snow of the winding forest road, lifting Lauren out of her seat and yanking her from her musing. White-knuckled, she determined to pay closer attention as she drove.

  Before long, she was navigating the small, half-plowed roads of Cobden. Pulling up in front of Erin's house, a low single-story home with blacked out windows and a broken gate set into the faded, white-picket fence surrounding the yard, normally overgrown but currently blanketed in pristine snow.

  Right on cue, Erin exited the house. Locking the door behind her, she waved at Lauren and navi
gated the snow drifts to the truck, clambering inside as quickly as she could.

  The old truck had one hell of a heater, and Erin was holding her hands to the vents, cursing the cold. Her expletives were well-chosen and flew with a natural, practiced ease, causing Lauren to laugh at her friend's frustration. It never ceased to amuse; Erin's high, childlike voice slinging swear words like a sailor.

  As Lauren pulled the truck back into the street, she glanced once more at the house her friend had emerged from. It was like a faded vision of the American Dream: the driveway was, as ever, empty. In all the time she had known Erin she had never been inside her house, and had never met her parents. It seemed they were always working, out of town, or both. To be fair, she considered, perhaps she was just being nosy. Nonetheless, she never missed an opportunity to scour the windows for some hint of...what? She didn't even know.

  As she wondered to herself she cruised the slowly rolling hills of the town, making her way towards the high-school in unusual silence.

  “Isn't it a bit early to be lost in thought?” Erin chided her, poking Lauren in the ribs and causing her to jump with a start.

  Unfortunately, Lauren had in fact been lost in thought and her knee-jerk reaction to the surprise of being disturbed was to plant her foot firmly on the brake pedal. The truck's ancient frame began to slide as the wheels locked and the tires failed to grip the icy pavement. As it slid, the truck began to list slightly, rotating to the left and drifting into the oncoming lane of traffic.

  The boxy frame of a 4x4 filled Lauren's vision and she heard Erin let out a strangled scream.

  Thankfully, the vehicle in front of them was much newer than her old truck, and its anti-lock brakes pulled it to a sharp stop. Lauren and Erin coasted closer and closer until finally the tires caught a rougher patch of road and jerked the truck to a stop. The sudden halt jarred the passengers, knocking them about the cab.

  “Erin,” Lauren turned instinctively to her friend. “Erin, are you ok, are you hurt?”

  Erin was sitting rigidly, her eyes glassed over and a look of abject terror on her face. Both of Erin's arms were braced against the dashboard in front of her as though she were readying for an impact with a train.

  “Erin, Erin!”

  Lauren grabbed her friend's arm, her gloved fingers wrapping around Erin's wrist. Erin jerked back to reality, tears coming to her eyes as she began to shake.

  The man in the SUV in front of them honked angrily, but Lauren ignored him.

  “Hey, are you ok? Are you hurt?” Lauren felt Erin's wrist for signs of swelling though it was hard to tell beneath the thick winter coat she had on. Old habits surfaced and she started to slide Erin's sleeve up her arm as she reached with her left hand, putting the tip of her gloved finger between her teeth and pulling the glove off.

  As her sleeve pushed up onto her forearm, Erin pulled back, taking her arm back with surprising force. Lauren got a good look at several deep purple scars, thick ones, that laced across her arm before Erin yanked her sleeve back down. Another of Erin's mysteries, another set of questions left unasked.

  “I'm ok,” Erin said through her tears. “C-can you take me home, please?”

  She had never skipped school, or even been intentionally late, but Lauren had also never seen such emotion from her normally withdrawn companion. Erin was never exactly a ray of sunshine, but in this moment she was so visibly shaken that Lauren couldn't find the words to respond immediately.

  Instead, Lauren nodded her head, she pulled a sloppy u-turn in the street, eliciting even more frustration from the man across from her.

  Minutes passed in silence, much deeper and less comfortable than before. Eventually Lauren pulled up in front of the home. She prepared to put the truck in park, but Erin broke her silence.

  “Go, um, go ahead and park in the driveway.”

  Lauren was surprised. Erin had always told her that her parents came home from working third shift shortly after they went to school.

  Instead of arguing, Lauren did as she was instructed and parked the truck. It wasn't until the engine stopped that Erin began to calm down, but her breathing was still erratic and her complexion paler than usual.

  Erin reached for the handle of the door, hesitating a moment as she grabbed hold of it.

  “Do you want to come in?" She spoke so softly, Lauren wasn't sure she had heard her correctly.

  “Do I want to come in...” Lauren confirmed, “Like in your house?”

  Erin's cheeks flushed as she responded.

  “I'm-sorry-it's-fine-never-mind,” she gushed, clearly mistaking Lauren's clarification for a lack of interest.

  “Wait,” Lauren reached again, grabbing Erin's wrist before she could escape the truck. “Yes, please.”

  As they crunched through the snow to the door, Lauren couldn't tell who was more nervous, herself or her friend.

  “I'm, uh, sorry about the mess,” Erin said meekly as she unlocked and pushed open the front door, revealing a dimly lit living room.

  The girls piled in, stamping the snow from their boots. Erin took Lauren's coat from her, hanging it on a hook behind the door before beginning to remove her own.

  Lauren looked around. The room was loaded with stacks of books, giving it a slightly cramped appearance, but was otherwise quite neat.

  How to Balance a Checkbook.

  Household Finances For the Totally Unprepared.

  With Hard Work – Success!

  Lauren scanned the titles as she waited. It seemed over half of the books were some kind of self-help manual, everything from keeping track of finances and managing a mortgage, to furnace and plumbing repair books. The rest ranged from literary classics like Shakespeare to the latest trashy teen romance novellas.

  She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but a book-filled, otherwise totally normal-looking living room wasn't it.

  The floors were bare wood, and a small green sofa, a dull brown recliner, and a small coffee table with an old lamp on it were the room's only furnishings besides a pair of overloaded bookshelves and the mountains of writing everywhere. There were, however, three doorways leading from the room, one on each wall. As Lauren peered down the hall, her gaze met with Erin's.

  Erin was standing sheepishly, looking at her, one arm hanging down in front of her, the other nervously across her body, her hand gripping the opposite shoulder. Her black leggings, knee-length plaid skirt, and dark gray long-sleeved shirt made her stand out from the cream colored walls. A little storm cloud with puffy red eyes amidst the clutter of the house.

  Erin seemed supremely uncomfortable, clearly not used to having company.

  An awkward silence grew between the friends as Erin foundered socially. Lauren's stomach chose that precise moment to growl in protest of her lack of breakfast.

  The tension flowed out of the room and Erin started giggling, her laughter had a tinge of hysteria to it, but the edge had been taken off the atmosphere in the room.

  “I've got frozen waffles, pop-tarts,” Erin listed off breakfast options with all the authority of a worried mother.

  “I'm ok with cereal if you are,” Lauren replied, happy that the mood had brightened.

  Erin motioned for Lauren to follow her and walked through one of the doorways into a small but well-lit kitchen. The room couldn't have been more than 15 feet to a side, with an old gas stove, warm brown wooden counters and, surprisingly, a full half-dozen bright, uncovered windows. Sunlight streamed onto the worn linoleum and gave the room a bright and inviting disposition that wasn't hinted at by the dull exterior of the building.

  Erin fetched a pair of bowls and spoons, as well as a box of generic bran flakes from the cabinets, and set them on the small round table in the center of the room.

  “I hope you don't mind 2%,” she said as she retrieved a jug from the fridge. She was visibly calmer, but there was a light quake still in her voice.

  The girls chatted over their bowls of cereal for nearly an hour, and their topic of conversatio
n roamed wildly, but never did it stray to discussion of their near-wreck. Eventually though, Lauren plucked up the courage to say something about it.

  “So, are you ok?” she began, treading carefully and looking for the right words. “You seemed really...upset.”

  Erin's expression turned stony, and she lapsed into silence, staring down into her cereal as though looking for answers.

  “I'm sorry, forget I mentioned it. I just want to be sure you are ok.”

  Erin raised her head. Unlike earlier, she was able to keep her tears in check, but only barely.

  “No, I'm not,” she stated rather matter-of-factly, with a piercing sadness that struck Lauren to her core.

  “Lauren, have you ever hid something from someone? Something big, but something that you wanted to share with them but couldn't?”

  Lauren froze, unsure exactly what was coming next.

  “We've been friends now for a while, honestly I think you're the best friend I've ever had and I trust you but I just, just-”

  Her words came quicker and quicker, running together until she cut herself off.

  Erin stood, pushing her chair back slightly as she did so. Her tone and the abrupt shift of position took Lauren off-guard, who sat there with her spoon halfway between her mouth and bowl.

  Erin paused for a moment, took a slow, deliberate breath, and grabbed the bottom of her shirt. Quickly, as though she were afraid she might lose her nerve, she slid the thin fabric up over her head and shoulders, revealing a black sports bra and her alabaster skin.

  Thick, ragged scars of purple traced across Erin's chest and arms. They ranged from pencil-thin to thicker than Lauren's finger. Most of them were old, faded, but a few fresher, angry red lines ran along her wrists and forearms.

  Erin's crimson hair stood in stark, beautiful contrast to her ivory skin. She had the look of a porcelain doll that had been broken and repaired. The scars did nothing to hide her beauty, though, at least not in Lauren's widened, startled eyes.