Rise of the Fallen 1 - My Soul to Keep (8 page)

“Um, I’ve never done this before. Would it be easier for you to hold
on to my arm or do you want to walk and I’ll just tell you about stairs and stuff?”

“Ooh, a handicapped virgin. This is always fun.” She didn’t sound bitter,
more like teasing. I wondered how many “virgins” she had to deal with. “Since it’s
the first day and I have absolutely no idea as to how this place is laid out, would
you mind if I hang on to your arm?”

“Not at all,” I said with minimal cracking in my voice. The thought
of actually touching Jessica sent my heart into overdrive. I could practically hear
it in my ears.

I held my arm out to her and waited. It took me about a minute to realize
she couldn’t see it. I reached down with my right hand and gently grabbed hers to
pull it on top of my waiting arm.

As soon as my fingertips touched her skin, my heart went from fast
to threatening to jump out of my chest and run a marathon. There weren’t any sparks
of electricity like you see in the movies, rather a quiet feeling of power, belonging,
home, safety, and chocolate. I didn’t want to let go. Ever.

I heard Jessica give a little gasp and I hoped it meant she felt it
too. I pulled her hand closer to me and spread her fingers over my wrist to let
her know I would guide her. She closed her fingers on my wrist and I concentrated
very hard on the linoleum floor beneath me, the sunlight coming through the window,
and the smells surrounding us. Anything to take my mind off the feeling of her hand
on my arm. I took one small step forward to let her know which way we were going
and she took a step to match mine.

“How far is our first class?”

“Not far, just up the stairs and to the left. Mr. Johnson is our teacher,
nice guy for a troll.”

That earned me a short burst of her musical laughter and I smiled.
They needed to make a recording of her laugh and play it for the criminally insane.
I’m sure they would be cured within a week.

We made it up the stairwell without her falling. I sighed with relief
when we made it. I won't lie, I was worried. The strangest thing about the whole
situation was the reason for my fear. I was more afraid she would get hurt than
that the whole school would see me drop the blind girl down the stairs. Luckily
everyone already started first period and the stairs were relatively vacant. I probably
would
have dropped her if I had to maneuver her through a torrent of students.

Mr. Johnson had his back to the class and furiously scribbled archaic
algebraic equations on the green blackboard (why are blackboards green?) like some
sort of magic spell. I know it’s just numbers, but when I looked at it spread out
in all its glory, it looked more like Sanskrit or Cuneiform than math. Either way
it hurt my head.

“You’re late, Mr. Sullivan. Please take your seat,” Mr. Johnson said
without turning around. Apparently he didn’t get the memo about getting a new student.

“We have a new student, sir.”

He turned and gave me an annoyed look before realizing she was blind.
The depth of her handicap hit me. How would she do her home work, take tests, follow
along on the blackboard? I hated algebra with a passion, but at least I could see
it. I can only imagine how difficult it must be for Jessica.

“Welcome to our classroom Ms…”

“James. Jessica James.” I stifled a giggle and vowed to start calling
her Jessie. It became sort of a moral imperative.

“Shut up,” Jessie whispered out of the side of her mouth. She must
have heard the beginnings of my laugh.

“Well, there just happens to be an empty desk next to Mr. Sullivan.
Why don’t you sit there and we’ll get back to the lesson?”

I nodded at Mr. Johnson and took a tentative step toward the pair of
desks in the middle of the room. Jessica felt the tug of my arm and took a step
to match mine.
Maybe this would be easier than I thought.
I walked her to
the opening at her desk and as soon as her cane clanked against the metal leg, she
reached out with a tentative hand and felt around. I could imagine what the wooden
top felt like to her soft hand. When she reached the edge, she waved her hand around
the empty space of the chair. She gauged the space and slid neatly into the empty
spot leaving me to gawk at her for a few minutes before I realized she was listening
for me to leave. Realizing every set of eyes in the class were watching me staring
at Jessica, I did just that.

I slid into my desk, pulled my book out of my backpack, and opened
it to a random page. The sounds of Mr. Johnson’s chalk striking the board were the
only ones in the classroom. I took a quick peek at my new friend and I saw her tilt
her head away from me like she listened to the mathematical equations being drawn
on the board. She gave a little smile, I sighed at the cuteness of it, and she smiled
a little more. Embarrassed, I paid attention to the board.

Johnson stopped writing and stepped away from his equation. He looked
around the room for a victim, I mean volunteer, and I slid as low in my seat as
possible. I shouldn’t have moved at all. Teachers have vision just like a Tyrannosaurus
Rex and only see movement.

“Mr. Sullivan, why don’t you come up to the board and show our new
student the ease at which you can solve the equation?”

“I’d rather not, sir. I planned on explaining everything to her so
she knows where we are…”

“I’d rather you did. Up here now, please. You can explain to the whole
class exactly what you’re doing.”

Undercurrents of laughter spread through the room and forced blood
and heat to rise into my cheeks. I gave a little sigh, resigned myself to my doom,
and made my way to the front of the class. My hand shook as I reached for the tiny
sliver of chalk in the metal tray beneath the blackboard that seemed to have grown
four times its normal size. Slowly, I lifted my hand and gripped the chalk between
my thumb and finger. With a small puff of dust it shattered into three-hundred and
seventeen pieces.

I mean that literally. Time froze and my brain picked out not only
each piece of chalk suspended in the air between my hand and the floor, but the
thirty-six pieces still trapped between my thumb and finger. I closed my eyes and
shook my head.

“Today, Mr. Sullivan.”

I looked back at Johnson standing at the rear of the classroom with
his arms folded over his brown suit jacket. I gave a wan little smile and turned
back around, reaching for another piece of chalk. This time I gripped it as lightly
as possible without dropping it to the linoleum floor.

I gave a nervous laugh at my shaking hand as it brought the chalk to
the board right under the jumble of numbers Mr. Johnson left to torture me. I closed
my eyes, opened them, and tried to focus. The numbers seemed to float in front of
the board and started to glow almost blue. They stayed the color as the letters
in the equations flared red. My hand became a blur and my mouth started giving a
play-by-play recap of everything my hand did like some crazed sports announcer on
television. The worst part of the whole thing was my brain understood everything
I said. As I wrote the final answer on the board and boxed it in, the last of my
breath flew from my lungs and I spun to face the class.

Everyone stared, and by everyone I mean every student (including the
blind one) and the teacher. They sat there open mouthed like I'd sprouted wings.
I glanced behind me to make sure I hadn’t.

“Is that right?”

Mr. Johnson nodded at my question and I gave a quick sigh before heading
back to my empty seat and tried very hard to make myself as small as possible.

Chapter 8

“Welcome to hell.”

“Excuse me?” Even I could hear the confusion in Jessica’s voice.

“I’m sorry, did I say hell? I meant the cafeteria.” I smiled when she
giggled. I smiled bigger when her hand tightened around my wrist. My face nearly
broke in half when she tripped and ended up in my arms. “Are you okay?”

“I am now, thanks for catching me.”

“My pleasure,” I said and meant it.

I led her over to the table I usually sat at with Jeremy and pulled
the seat out for her. “What are you doing?”

“It’s your first day. I’ll get us food and be right back.” I saw her
struggling with her own sense of independence. “Tomorrow, you can get us food and
I’ll sit on my butt.”

“Deal,” she said and felt around the contours of the chair before sitting
down at the table.

“Hope you like Alpo. Don’t worry, I’ll get kibbles too.”

Another small laugh and another huge smile.

I did feel guilty knowing she thought I was joking about the food.
Sometimes I swore they really were serving us dog-food. I made my way into lunch
lady land and smelled the sloppy-joes before I saw them. Shuddering, I forced myself
to keep the remnants of pretzel in my stomach. I grabbed the cream colored lunch
tray from the stack at the start of the line. I started off slowly in the Jell-o
section and browsed my choices solemnly. I avoided the fruit filled ones, knowing
the fruit probably came from a can produced somewhere around the time our school
had been built. I settled for two small cups of plain orange.

Next came the cheerleader food, little Styrofoam bowls of lettuce and
sliced veggies. Due to my companion’s feminine nature, I grabbed one of them and
slid it on the tray with a packet of ranch dressing. I never met a girl who didn’t
eat salad and ranch dressing.

I slid the tray down the metal rails and faced my greatest fear, the
dreaded sloppy-joes of James Underwood High. I looked up at Mrs. Sanchez in her
blue pants, white shirt, and greasy spatula. I closed my eyes in resigned determination,
and nodded. I didn’t want to look. I felt her drop the evil on a bun onto my tray.
I could feel it mocking me, teasing me, threatening my very innards. I tried not
to look down as I slid forward, grabbed two cans of Coke, and made my way to the
cashier.

“Only one sandwich?”

“Yeah, too much of a good thing and all that,” I said through gritted
teeth. She must have caught my sarcasm, because she let out a cackle, sending shivers
down my spine.

I made my way back to the table and found Jeremy talking to Jessica.
“What up, Jer?”

“Connor, what happened to you last night? I called you after work but
nobody answered.” I looked at Jeremy funny. I'd gone home and crashed, but the rest
of the family should have been home.

“I crashed hard. Nobody else answered?” I set the tray down and sat
down next to Jessica. “Sloppy-joe or salad?”

“Salad, please. I can smell the sloppy-joes,” she replied with a frown.

I picked up the salad, soda, and Jell-o and arranged everything in
front of her. “I got you Jell-o, too. It’s usually safe enough to eat. If the sloppy-joe
kills me, call the paramedics would you?” She laughed at my joke and I tried not
to bubble over.

Jeremy raised one eyebrow at me and looked at Jessica.

“Did you two introduce yourselves?”

“Yeah, she’s the new kid everyone’s talking about.” As soon as the
words left his lips, Jeremy regretted it.

“Everybody’s talking about the blind kid, huh? Don’t worry about it,
I’m used to it.” It really didn’t seem to bother her and my respect level jumped
even higher for her. “I’ve been blind for ten years. Some things never change. I’m
guessing from the way your principal tripped all over himself to accommodate me,
I’m the only one at the school?”

“You might be the only one in town,” Jeremy said without any hint of
embarrassment.

“Sweet, I should start a club.”

“How did you lose your sight?” I asked. It had been killing me all
day.

“They diagnosed me with macular degeneration, but it ended up being
a series of small tumors on my optic nerves. They did everything they could.”

“I’m sorry,” I said and meant it.

“You son of a bitch, you gave me the tumors?”

“Huh?”

“Relax, Connor, I’m kidding. It’s not your fault I’m blind and it’s
sort of my way of saying, ‘Don’t say sorry.’ Trust me. I’ve grown quite used to
not being able to see. I miss it, but I’m not bitter or angry.”

“You’re really cool, Jessie. I hope you know that.”

“I do. Pass the salt. And don’t call me Jessie, ever.”

“Why?” Jeremy finally piped in.

“My last name is James. If either of you call me Jessie again, I’ll
beat you with my cane until you bleed.”

“No problem, Jessie,” we said in stereo.

* * *

“Thanks for helping me today. I really appreciate it.” Jessie squeezed
my arm as we stepped through the front doors of the school into the chilly afternoon
air.

“I didn’t mind at all. I’m kind of looking forward to helping you tomorrow,
too.” She didn’t say anything, but I think I saw a little blush rush to her cheeks.
“How are you getting home?”

“My dad is picking me up. He works from home, so lucky me.”

“Just wanted to see if you needed me to walk you home,” I said and
it sounded lame to me, too. “Maybe Friday?” I tried not to sound pathetic.