Falling Under (24 page)
“She was never happier than when she carried you.”
The sharp turn of his words took me from the road my own thoughts were traveling on and surprised me. I dared not speak and waited for him to continue.
“She never held you in her arms, but she loved to cradle her rounded belly. You were everything to her. It was as if she lived her whole life for those nine months.” Father reached tentatively to stroke my cheek. “She’d be so proud of you. Especially your music—but really, everything. She’d have my head for all my transgressions against you.”
“You wanted to protect me,” I answered.
“I want to love you as well. It’s just … difficult. I knew before falling for her that love was rash and unkind. I’d avoided it as long as I could, but then I met your mother, and something made me want to try. But I failed, Theia. Love bested me. My consolation was that perhaps I could protect you from heartache.” Unguarded, my formidable father reminded me of a boy my own age. “Instead, I fear I broke your heart several times over. For that, I’m sorry.”
“You were right to try, Father. Love is impossible.”
“I wish fairy tales were real.” He patted my hand. “The doctor says you can return to school tomorrow.” He paused. “I’ll be in my study if you need anything.”
After he left, I sighed heavily. So much had changed, yet nothing really had.
I wondered if I would ever cease wishing I was ten years older. As a young girl I thought, with fervent hope, that ten years was some kind of magic formula. That if I were seventeen instead of seven, I would know how to handle myself better in a situation. That a passing decade would fill in all the cracks where I ached, by adding wisdom or, at the very least, understanding. But seventeen had come, and there I sat, no more used to heartache than when I started. And more confused by it.
I’d thought I would be glad to get out of the house, to return to school—to normal life. I was wrong. Everyone knows high school is the opposite of balm for the soul, but apparently I had to figure it out for myself.
The last time I’d been on campus, the whispers and stares had been almost humorous. I’d been newly in love with a boy who felt the same, and possibility bloomed like flowers everywhere I looked. The obstacles had seemed trivial that day, a few weeds in my garden of hope.
Everything was different now.
I stepped out of Donny’s car, and exhaustion set into my bones immediately.
“You okay?” she asked.
“No.”
Each step seemed to take energy that I just didn’t have.
“Theia, maybe you’re still too sick. Do you want me to take you home?”
I shook my head but couldn’t look at her. My absence from my life had been explained by the flu, though I don’t think Donny or Amelia believed it. I wasn’t ready to talk about it. Not yet. They didn’t know about Haden returning to Under, or the sleeping pills I took, or that my father had asked my mother to terminate me before I was born.
My insides were too raw for the discussion just now.
The fact that Haden had stopped coming to school about the same time I got the flu was too coincidental for the school rumor factory, which manufactured story after story, each more lurid than the last. As I wound through the busy hall to the admin office with my sick note, the whispers and stares were no longer humorous. They must have known I could hear them, but the students carried on as if it didn’t matter.
I heard she got mono
.
.
No, it’s cancer. And Haden was so heartbroken he ran away
.
.
No, her dad ran him off. He found out about their affair
.
.
I heard she got in trouble and her dad made her go to the city and, well—you know—get rid of it
.
.
That whisper plunged into my heart like a dagger, so fresh on the wound of finding out my father had tried to convince my mother to get rid of me.
I bet Haden couldn’t deal. I bet he won’t come back to town ever again.
Maybe he’s a demon.
I stopped, and all my blood turned slushy cold, and my skin prickled at the word. The whisper had been only a breath away from my ear, and yet no one was there.
I must have misheard anyway
, I lied to myself. I hugged my arms closer to my chest and looked at the students around me a little bit more closely. The whisper, though, still seemed to be caressing my ear, a trace of it left behind. I shivered and continued to the admin office.
, I lied to myself. I hugged my arms closer to my chest and looked at the students around me a little bit more closely. The whisper, though, still seemed to be caressing my ear, a trace of it left behind. I shivered and continued to the admin office.
The day was going to be a long one.
At lunch Amelia peered at me with an unwavering look. It unnerved me, and the fuse of my temper was already short. “What?” I finally asked, exasperated. I set my Tater Tot back on the tray. “What?” I tried again, with a touch of civility.
She pulled an orange juice out of her lunch bag. “You shouldn’t eat so much junk food if you’ve been sick. Drink this.”
“I’m fine,” I answered mulishly, closing my eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” I said the words—I even meant them—but my fingers still clenched the fabric of my pants under the table.
I felt like a teakettle just about to whistle. Emotions rolled inside me in a slow boil, building steam and getting ready for the big show. I didn’t know how to stop them. They just gyrated and spun, bringing me closer to a loss of control every minute. I wanted to shout out—scream, really.
I missed Haden. And I wanted my mother.
Amelia pushed the juice at me when I didn’t take it from her hand. “It’s okay. I know you don’t feel well.”
“It’s not an excuse to become a bitter, hissing crone around my best friends. I’m sorry.”
Ame patted my head, and then she craned her neck sharply to look at the door behind us. I turned to see what drew her attention. About ten seconds after I looked, Mike entered the cafeteria door looking the same as he always did. Jeans, tee, letter jacket, boring.
What was wrong with me? That was rude. Mike was a nice lad. Just because I didn’t find him all-consuming didn’t mean he was boring. Better for Amelia that he was a touch bland than a demon who wanted to eat her heart, after all.
That’s when I realized something about the timing of his entrance was off. “You don’t think that’s strange?” I asked her.
“What’s strange?”
“That you knew Mike was coming before he got to the door?”
The pink began in the apples of her cheeks until her whole face flushed. “I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. Your neck nearly snapped, you turned so fast, and he didn’t come in until
after
I tried to see what you were looking at. Are you turning into a psychic? Like Varnie said?”
after
I tried to see what you were looking at. Are you turning into a psychic? Like Varnie said?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I mean, maybe sometimes, but I still can’t do readings.” She pressed her lips together in a firm line. “Every now and then, though, I feel something really strongly.” She shrugged. “It’s weird. I can’t control or direct it, and it isn’t a vision—just a feeling.”
Mike didn’t stop at our table, but he waved and said, “Hey,” as he walked by.
Ame’s shoulders slumped after he passed. I wished Donny wasn’t late for lunch. I was in no mood to cheer Amelia up, but that’s what friends did, so I kicked her foot under the table. “I’ll drink your bloody orange juice if you eat some of these Tater Tots.”
We smiled at each other.
Neither one of us meant it, though.
About a week after I had gotten over my “flu,” I was going through my daily routine and, as usual, my hair wouldn’t cooperate. It occurred to me to just leave it down—and so I did.
Nobody remarked on it at school, but Donny’s forehead creased when she first saw me. Father didn’t even mention it at supper, though I could tell he wanted to. He’d been measurably more careful with his comments since our discussion about my mother.
And so the next day and every day after, my curls were free. No more headaches from bands too tight, no more escaping tendrils—just loose and slightly demented curls.
Just to see what would happen, one morning I dug through my closet until I found a pair of jeans Donny had given me last year because she had accidentally bought ones labeled “short.” I wore them to school. Donny and Amelia raised their eyebrows at each other, but didn’t say anything to me.
It was like that now.
The three of us tiptoed over eggshells around one another. Since Haden had left, I’d kept all but the most superficial thoughts and feelings to myself. They seemed to understand I needed space, but at the same time, they telegraphed what they wanted to say to each other as if I couldn’t understand them.
A few days later, I stopped doing my homework.
It all seemed so pointless. I stopped playing the violin too. I just didn’t care about pleasing anyone at all anymore. If they didn’t like it, they could bugger off.
One night, Father was running late, so Muriel stayed to eat supper with me. I conned her into ordering Chinese. We were getting ready to eat in the kitchen, as we always did when Father was gone.
While she got the plates out, I began pulling the takeout containers from the bag. As I opened one, a movement caught my eye. I peered back into the white box and found a writhing mass of white worms looping around one another trying to get to the top.
I shrieked and clapped one hand over my mouth while I dropped the worms with the other hand. Muriel ran to me as I staggered backwards.
“What is it, Theia?” she cried.
I choked back my gagging noises and simply pointed to the mess, just knowing they’d be crawling towards my shoes.
“Pumpkin, what is wrong?” she asked again.
Couldn’t she see? I looked at the floor. Nothing moved. There were no worms, only noodles.
“That’s impossible.” I stooped lower. “They were moving. They were … worms or something and they were alive.”
Muriel’s hand stroked my back. “Someone has been watching too many late-night movies.”
“No,” I protested. “I swear. They weren’t … noodles. I
saw
them.”
saw
them.”
“Just a trick of the mind, Thei. I’ll get this cleaned up. Why don’t you go splash a little cool water on your face? You’ve had quite a scare.”
I nodded, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the still noodles on the floor. I waited for them to move again, to prove that I wasn’t insane. The hair on the back of my neck rose and I felt like I was being watched. Then, just as suddenly, the feeling was gone.
After the night with the noodles, I was hypervigilant. Everything made me wary. Out of the corner of my eye I kept seeing things move. Things that weren’t there. Many times, the songs on my iPhone would sound scratchy and I would almost be able to pick out voices—like when radio reception loses strength and you get two channels at once. I couldn’t hear what the voices were saying, but they gave me the chills all the same.
I’d taken to sleeping with the light on, but sometimes that was worse. Now and again, shadows seemed to move in ways they weren’t meant to. Every day I became more paranoid and withdrawn.
One day at school, Amelia touched my arm and we both recoiled from the electric shock it produced.
“Sorry,” she said. “God, I’ve been doing that all the time lately. I can’t figure out what is going on. It’s like I’m a lightning rod or something. Everything I touch shocks me.”
“Did your mom switch shampoo?” Donny asked. Donny placed a lot of importance on shampoo.
“Um, no.” Ame said with a laugh.
We’d decided to eat outside that day. The weather had been strange—alternating between showers and a warm sun—but it was sunny at lunch and we all craved the vitamin D therapy, as Donny called it.
I wasn’t eating, though I stared at my lunch very hard, something I found myself doing often.
“Where’s Gabe?” Amelia asked Donny.
She shrugged. “How should I know?”
It wasn’t until Donny looked at me quizzically that I realized I was staring at her. No—I was glaring at her. I replaced my angry face with a pleasant one quickly and looked back down at my lunch again. It’s just that it was hard, sometimes, not to be upset with her. Gabe treated her so well, and everyone knew she had feelings for him. It seemed so wasteful to me that she kept denying something that made her happy—or would make her happy if she’d stop being so stubborn about it. I missed Haden. One thousand times a day, I wished for him to come back. Gabe was right here, and she kept pushing him away.
Mike strolled by, surprising us all when he actually stopped at our bench.
“Hey,” he said. Like he always seemed to say.
“Hey,” Amelia answered.
I nodded a small greeting and Donny sort of waved, not looking up from texting. She was probably texting Gabe to find out where he was. Even though she didn’t care.
“Ame, I wondered if you wanted to go over last night’s trig.”
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