Brightest Kind of Darkness (3 page)

Frowning at the empty slot, I began to dig deep into the bottom of my backpack, even though I knew I wouldn’t find a pen. I hated loose pens, change or anything for that matter, rolling around in the bottom of my backpack. I had a pencil, but writing a note on my hand was impossible with No 2 lead.

I was frantically searching every single zipper, pocket and crevice in my backpack when someone set a blue pen on my desk and kept on walking.

I watched Ethan take his seat at the back of the classroom and open his notepad. He didn’t look up or acknowledge what he’d done in any way. Instead, he retrieved a pencil from inside the pad’s spiral binding and immediately began to run the dark lead across the paper, completely engrossed.

The blue ink slid across my skin like silk as I wrote the couple of things I wanted to recall on my palm. I never wrote down answers to test questions. My dreams always seared those into my memory. Mostly I just noted other stuff that I didn’t want to forget or situations I wanted to avoid. Like coming out of third period today and seeing Lainey whisper something in Jared’s ear as he grabbed her around the waist. She
had
stayed after practice yesterday to watch the football players. I’d felt so crappy after letting so many shots into the goal that I’d just gone home.

I wrote two things:

Take long way to 4th pd.

Send flowers
.

Curling my fingers closed, I looked up to see Ethan watching me, pencil paused over his paper. I’d never seen him with a pen. From what I could recall, he’d always used a pencil, which meant he knew I was looking for my pen, because…

He’d watched me write on my hand every day
.

* * *

After third period, Lainey ran up to me in the hallway, swinging her cowhide designer bag over her shoulder. “There you are. Why’d you go this way?”

When I shrugged, offering no reason, Lainey didn’t even notice. Her brown eyes were brimming with anticipation. “Did you hear about, Lila—”

A couple of guys brushed past, one speaking to the other in a loud voice, as if his buddy were across the room instead of right next to him. “What’d you want to do this Friday?”

I frowned after them. “Why’s Aaron screaming?”

“I heard him telling someone that he was wearing his headphones yesterday when a high-pitched sound squealed. He said it hurt so much he almost passed out.”

I winced. “Ouch!”

Lainey pointed to her ear. “Temporary hearing loss. Aaron swears it was interference from an airplane zooming over.” Spinning her hand in an impatient circle, she said, “Anyway, did you hear what happened to her?”

My heart hammered like crazy, but I tried to remain calm and not let the guilt show on my face. “Who?”

“Lila Jenkins.” Lainey drew closer. “She was admitted to Jefferson hospital last night. Supposedly, she was pretty roughed up and they don’t expect her to come back to school for a couple weeks.”

Despite my attempt to remain cool, tears burned behind my eyelids. Hearing about Lila all over again only made my guilt ratchet higher. I blinked rapidly to hold my tears back and wished our school didn’t have a policy against wearing sunglasses inside. “Do they know who did that to her?”

“Nope. Which brings me to the other news. They arrested David Donaldson for planting the bomb.”

“David Donaldson?” I squinted, pretending to remember who he was. “Didn’t he get expelled for beating up that guy over a parking spot?”

“Yeah. Lila was dating David.” Lainey flipped her wavy red hair over her shoulder. The morning mist had totally ruined her flatiron straightening efforts. “Makes me wonder if she’s the one who tipped off the police and that’s why she got beat up.”

“But you said David’s been arrested. Who beat her then?” I desperately hoped that for once my dream was wrong and the police had actually arrested the person responsible for attacking Lila.

Lainey lifted her shoulder, then popped a big pink bubble. “My dad said Lila’s refusing to talk about it.” Glancing at the students milling around us, she leaned in and whispered, “The police originally suspected that the bomber might be that new guy, since the bomb was in his locker. Plus, the tipper said the person responsible had been expelled.”

My eyes bugged.
I meant expelled at
this
school!
I began to cough. I might’ve saved the new guy’s life, but I’d also accidentally pegged him as the bomber.

Lainey pounded my back. “You okay? You choke on your gum or something?

“I’m good,” I croaked and waved for her to continue.

“Turns out David had bomb parts in the back of his car.” Snorting, Lainey rolled her eyes. “I knew that creep wasn’t right in the head. Can you believe he almost blew up our school?”

I was too busy mentally freaking over the realization that in the conversation I’d had with Lainey in my dream, she hadn’t mentioned anything about Ethan. Not the fact that his locker had the bomb in it, nor that he’d been a suspect for a brief time. Just like my whole interchange with Ethan in the hall and him giving me that pen. Things were happening that I wasn’t expecting.

Why had none of this stuff shown up in my dream? Trying to muddle through it was making my head hurt, so I changed the subject. “How was football practice?”

Lainey looked away, suddenly interested in the two guys arm wrestling across a table against the wall. “Entertaining as always.” After a couple seconds, her attention shifted back to me. “I swear all they do is try to kill each other.”

“Did you talk to anyone?”
God, I was so asking to have this rubbed in my face
.

“Just the usual. Miranda and Sophia know the guys on the team better than I do.”

Uh huh.
Normally Lainey would’ve followed that sentence with, “You should’ve come with us.” I only tolerated Miranda and Sophia because of Lainey, but it was very telling that she didn’t seem to miss me yesterday. At least I knew where she stood on truthfulness between friends.

The bell rang, ending our five-minute break. Even with Lainey standing beside me, I suddenly felt very alone. Sophia walked past us, squinting as if she was having a hard time seeing.
Nice
. “I guess I’d better head off to Biology.”

“Drop it, Soph,” Lainey called after the curly-haired blonde. Glancing at me, she waved after Sophia. “Don’t let her or any of the other girls get to you, Nara. None of them could do a better job as goalie and they know it.”

Her comment should’ve made me feel better, but it didn’t. In the past, Lainey always had my back and visa versa. In some ways, I felt she still did, but a part of her seemed to be pulling away—and I didn’t know how to get her back.

* * *

After a much improved soccer practice, I sat in my car and checked my cell messages. Aunt Sage had left me a voicemail.

“Inara, sweetie, I heard about your school on the news. How terrifying! I’m glad everything turned out okay and you and your friends are safe. Stop by and see me sometime soon. Miss you!”

I sent a text back.
Will do! Miss you too
. Aunt Sage might be my dad’s sister, but unlike my father, she’d never stopped caring about our family. Whereas my mom was like the eye of the hurricane—eerily calm and solid in an intangible sort of way—Aunt Sage was the tempest raging all around you. She thrust herself into your life, pulling you into a tight hug before you even had a chance to say, “Welcome to my personal space.”

Once I left school, I stopped by a florist. Moisture and perfumed scents hung in the air as I browsed the floral arrangements on display in the tiny shop.

“Can I help you with something?” A young, mousy-faced guy in a green apron droned as he leaned on his elbows across the main counter.

I pointed to the bouquet of wild flowers sitting in the refrigerated case. “I’d like to send those to someone at Jefferson hospital.”

He slowly straightened as if undraping himself from the counter was the last thing he wanted to do. “Do you want them delivered today?”

When I nodded, he lifted a small card and envelope from a plastic holder near the register, setting them on the counter. “Our delivery truck will be leaving in a half hour. Fill the card out and I’ll wrap the flowers.”

While he pulled the vase from the case, then began to wrap the sides to protect the flowers, my pen hovered over the card. It’s not like I was going to sign my name. Finally, I just wrote in indistinguishable print,
I’m sorry. Get well soon
and slipped the card inside the envelope. On the outside, I wrote her name,
Lila Jenkins
.

Setting the wrapped vase on the counter, the guy picked up the envelope I’d just sealed and said in a bored tone, “Will that be cash, check or charge?”

I pulled my checkbook out of my backpack, waving it. I’d have to do extra chores around the house to earn the money to put back in my account, but I didn’t care. Sending the flowers lessened my guilt a little.

As I drove home, a part of me was still angry that Lila would’ve let the bomb go off in the school without warning anyone, but I felt bad about what had happened to her. I never thought how my efforts to save others could’ve caused Lila to get hurt. In my dream David
had
threatened her when he thought she might rat him out. He might be in jail, but someone had taken his anger out on her. Did it have anything to do with what she knew?

And then there was Ethan. I’d saved lives yesterday, but in the process my phone tip had led the police to him. What if they hadn’t found the bomb parts in David’s car?

When I turned my car down our tree-lined street—currently an October kaleidoscope of burnt oranges, reds, yellows and deep purples—a concept we’d learned in Physics came back to me with a whole new meaning.
To every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
Had anyone ever considered applying Newton’s 3rd Law of Motion on a metaphysical level? From small actions, other things could happen.

Terrible, unexpected things.

Chapter Four

The next morning I woke up feeling refreshed and…completely terrified. Not because some new catastrophe was going to happen, but because I couldn’t remember my dream.

My t-shirt crackled with electricity as I shoved my covers away and grabbed the purple pen on my nightstand. I held it poised over my open palm, hoping the familiar ritual would kick my mind into gear. Several seconds passed.

Nothing. Not even a glimmer of a memory.

Ugh!
Throwing the pen across the room, I retrieved the blue pen Ethan had given me from my backpack. With a calm breath, I touched the pen to my skin and closed my eyes, beckoning inspiration.

When I opened them, only one word was written on my palm.

Ethan.

A sheen of sweat rose on my skin. Why did
his
name pop up when nothing else came to me? As cool morning air blew against my feverish body, I shivered and whispered, “I didn’t dream. At all.” And I had two tests and a game today.

My gaze snagged on my backpack and a glimmer of hope lifted my spirits. “Maybe at least one thing will go right,” I mumbled. Pulling out the folded piece of paper I’d rubbed yesterday before I blocked my dad from calling, I slowly unfolded it.

Tails!
So much for believing all those Tails papers might somehow have been because I influenced the coin’s outcome. Fisting my hand around the piece of paper, I crumpled it into a tiny ball, then shoved it in my mouth.
How dare it tell me I shouldn’t have interfered.
I chewed with a vengeance. As the paper quickly soaked up my spit, I swiped the ever-present quarter from my nightstand.
What a bunch of crap!
Spitting the wad onto the coin, I tossed them both into the trash. “You don’t get an opinion anymore.”

Once the quarter wound its way through the mound of Tails papers, hitting the metal bottom with a final plink, I blinked at the trashcan.

An entire day of unknowns?
My chest squeezed. Maybe I could crawl under the covers and pretend to have the flu. Several serious seconds of consideration followed, but I had to go to school. No one else was trained as goalie, not at my level.
Any
body was better than
no
body. Pushing the covers back, I murmured, “Today’s going to be a total disaster.”

“How’s school going?” Mom asked when I flopped down at the island a half hour later to pour myself a bowl of cereal.

My fingers tightened around the box. “Fine.”

Grabbing the orange juice from the fridge, Mom glanced at the door as it closed. “I see you have a game tonight.”

I’d put the schedule up on the fridge several weeks before, hoping she might come. Of all the times for her to notice. She hadn’t been to any of my games this year. Usually Mom and I spent our weekends together, but during the week, she worked long hours as her company’s CFO; often taking business trips a couple times a month. I never saw her at the end of a financial quarter.

“Uh, yeah.” I gulped.
Not tonight. Please
. “It’s not a big one though.”

Pouring the last of the juice into a glass, she caught my gaze. “I wish I could go, but work’s—”

“It’s no big deal.” I said quickly, both sad and frustrated that I felt relief.

Dead silence hung between us until Mom finally spoke. “I just wanted to wish you luck.” She flashed a quick smile. “Though you never seem to need it.” Buttoning her suit jacket, she tried to smooth the puckered material, then frowned at the bulging bottom two buttons. “You always come out on top.”

My face turned hot. She was so wrong. A half dozen unfinished projects sat in my bedroom: a papier-mâché small-scale model of the lawn area at the CVU (aka Central Virginia University, where I hoped to go to collage.), a painting of my favorite playground at Hyde park, a hand-stained music recorder—well, the mouthpiece part at least. Another dozen projects took up space in my closet. I loved starting new projects, but quickly lost interest. When I saw myself working on my brand new project in my dreams, the excitement and newness quickly wore off.

Everything was always a do-over. I might be successfully teaching myself Latin—Yey, me. I translate web documents in a language no one speaks just for fun—but doubt always lingered in the back of my mind. Did I have any
original
talent that wasn’t perfected by a repeat performance? I started to confess, “You have no idea—”

“You’re just like your dad…” she spoke over me, then paused, her lips thinning as her hand fluttered to the counter.

I’d seen the beginnings of that look in my dream night before last. I started to put my hand on hers, but knew better. We were like two icicles dangling from a rooftop; residing side-by-side, but permanently frozen apart. “What’s wrong?”

Her unfocused gaze shifted to the wall. “The weirdest thing happened yesterday morning. I was listening to the news station on my way to work when the radio fuzzed in and out and then music came through.” Her hand curled into a fist. “It was playing the song your father and I used as our wedding song.”

My stomach bottomed out. “Gotta love random music floating around on the air waves,” I said in a high-pitched tone as my mind replayed my dream about my dad’s call over and over in a torturous loop.

Mom’s eyes turned red as if she were trying not to cry. “What made it even stranger…the radio display flickered in and out. I could’ve sworn the station numbers were our wedding anniversary.”

I swallowed, unsure what to say. The way she’d looked in my dream…so broken, crumbling to pieces. I’d made sure she didn’t have to suffer, but sheer happenstance had toyed with her emotions anyway. Great. She might’ve taken her wedding ring off a few years ago, but it still sat in that stupid soap dish on the back of the kitchen sink—as if she planned to slip it back on any moment.

“You probably saw every radio station number at once because of the mountain’s interfere with tower signals.”

Mom straightened her shoulders and gave a wry smile. “Probably true, but yesterday would’ve been our twentieth wedding anniversary.”

I’d
totally
forgotten the date.

Before I could respond, she pressed her palms to her heart-shaped face like she was hot and spoke in a lighter tone, “He was always so solid.” Her cheek-touch was just a cover as she quickly swiped her fingers under her eyes, brushing away unshed tears. “You’re just like him.”

Yeah, so solid he’d bailed on us
. I hated when she compared my dad and me. “But I have your face and hair,” I insisted, tension lacing my light words. I didn’t want to be
anything
like him.

The radio thing might’ve shaken my mom, but her smile held a determined edge. She’d bury herself deeper in work this week so she wouldn’t have to think about it. I’d seen the pattern often enough.

My gaze slid to the soap dish. Mom needed more than work in her life.

“Anyway,” I said lightly, “It’s probably a good thing you hadn’t planned to come to my game this week, since there’s a ‘required’ parent participation night on Thursday at six.”

“Required? This Thursday? Why are you just now telling me?”

Since it just occurred to me that Mr. Dixon is widowed and isn’t bad looking, in a tall, lanky kind of way. Plus, he has kind eyes
. I shrugged. “My Spanish teacher Señor...er, I mean Mr. Dixon is having an international dinner night. I’m supposed to prepare a French dish.” Not to mention, I had a feeling I was going to need the extra credit Mr. Dixon was bribing the class with to attend the event. Maybe I could score some extra points for bringing my mom.

Mom’s fine blonde eyebrows shot up. “I’m expected to cook something
French
, too?”

I imagined Gran snickering in my ear,“
That’ll boil her ice cream
.” Meaning, in Gran’s unique mashing of words, Mom wouldn’t have time to think about the past, since she’d be stressing all week. Spaghetti was the
only
thing she could cook. “Yep.”

“I—I’ll think of something.” Sighing, she turned to toss the empty orange juice carton into the trash, but paused. “Inara—” she began as she dropped the carton, then pulled out a pair of jeans swiss-cheesed with scissor holes from the trash. “What in the world?”

Pouring milk into my bowl, I smiled, satisfied with my revenge. “Trust me. They had it coming.”

* * *

Worst. Day. Ever
. Slamming open my locker, I quickly exchanged my Spanish book for Trig and English. As I arranged the rest of the books in my locker in order of upcoming classes, I considered the possibility I might’ve been cursed.

During Homeroom, Sophia gleefully shared the news that Lainey and Jared were dating. Lainey’s betrayal hit so hard, bile rose to the back of my throat. Then, at the end of lunch, I found out that Miranda had convinced Coach to train Sophia as a permanent backup goalie. Miranda had Coach so wrapped. I could name at least three people who’d have made better goalies than Sophia….and one of them was in middle-school. “Just a few more hours of torture to go,” I mumbled.

“What’d you say?”

I jumped at the sound of Ethan’s deep voice. “Oh, hi.” Ethan stood to my right holding his locker door open. Instead of his usual flannel shirt, he was wearing a navy fleece that zipped at the collar. Where he’d left the zipper open, he had on a black t-shirt underneath, probably another old band tee. “I’m just having a crappy day.”
That
was the understatement of my life. Going through the school day blind was sheer agony. What had I been thinking asking for a day of surprises? How did the other people walk around school everyday, never knowing who or what was about to walk up and slam them in the face?

As far as I was concerned, preparation was the key to survival. Of course, the fact that I’d probably just made a low C on my Spanish test—would’ve been an F without my Latin background—would normally rank as another hellish experience for today, but at least I’d anticipated that one!

Ethan nodded, his look sympathetic. “I’ve had a few of those.”

He’d had the
ultimate
crap day recently, no thanks to me. “I heard that the police gave you a rough time, well, until they discovered David was the one who’d planted the bomb. Sorry about that.”

Shrugging, he shut his locker, then pushed his dark hair out of his eyes. “Yeah,
that
day would count, but you don’t need to apologize.”

My throat went dry and I looked away as I shut my locker door. “Um, well, I feel bad that that even happened to you. I’m sure it’s not easy being new, and then to be suspected of—”

Ethan touched my shoulder and I caught a whiff of spicy deodorant. It made my nose tingle and my heart race. “Nara. You don’t need to apologize.”

His expression was sincere, yet understanding, and the weight of his hand made me jittery with anticipation. Seeking a distraction, I reached into my backpack to retrieve the pen he’d given me. I didn’t really want to give it up, but I pushed it toward him. “Thanks again for lending me your pen.”

Folding his fingers over mine, he brushed his thumb along the arch on my palm. “You keep it.”

My pulse pounded. I’d washed the ink off my hand, but Ethan had just run his finger over the exact place I’d written his name this morning. Goosebumps scattered across my skin. “
Why didn’t you show up in my dream night before last?
” I wanted to ask.

“I don’t use pens,” he continued.

“Thanks,” was all I could think to say. He’d seen that I used a pen every day, but there was no way he’d carried that pen around just in case I needed one. Right?

Releasing my hand, he shifted his Trig book and notepad under his arm, then leaned against the lockers. “I was wondering…since we’ve got that Trig test today, would you mind being my partner during study hall? I really need someone to help clear up a couple of points for me.”

Heat spread across my face. His quiet, observant personality was so different from the flirtatious, outgoing characteristics I thought made Jared so hot—yet he’d just made me feel special on a day when nothing seemed to be going right. Normally I spent most of study hall chatting with Lainey, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk to her right now. Maybe if Ethan and I studied together, I’d have a sliver of hope in passing my Trig test. I smiled. “Thanks for asking. I need a refresher, too.”

* * *

At the end of the day, my French teacher, Mrs. Kearney, called me over. “Hey, Nara. Since you don’t have practice today, would you mind helping Kenny carry his backpack out to his car?”

As Kenny hobbled along beside me on crutches, I shoved my shades on and tried to balance my backpack strap on one shoulder and his bulging pack on the other. Glancing down at the air cast on his left ankle, I asked, “Did that happen during soccer?”

Kenny’s freckled forehead wrinkled as his red eyebrows shot up. “I wish! A sports injury would make a much better story.”

“What happened?”

“I tripped over my dog.”

I tried not to laugh at the look of total embarrassment on his face, but my lips tilted upward anyway.

He grimaced. “I was doing some drills with the ball in the backyard. One minute Deuce was standing near the deck and the next he was under my feet.”

“He doesn’t chase after the ball while you practice?” When I saw Lainey’s dog jumping in and nudging the ball with his nose, that made me wish for a pet even more, but my mom has allergies so I had to get my animal “fix” volunteering at the Central Virginia Animal Shelter.

“Nah. Deuce never jumps at the ball, but yesterday he yelped and was under my feet cowering. He’d moved so fast I didn’t have time to react.”

“He was scared?”

“Yeah. I never did figure out what spooked him.” Kenny opened his back door, tossed his crutches into the backseat, then leaned on the open door for support. “He’s usually fearless.”

I set his backpack beside the crutches. “Well, hopefully you’re not out too many games.”

“Thanks for helping.” His smile was sheepish. “Didn’t want the guys to think I couldn’t handle it by myself.”