Threads That Bind (Havoc Chronicles Series Book 1) (6 page)

“What — oooh,” she said as she first reacted to my squeeze and then saw Josh. “Do you want support or privacy?”

“Don’t go,” I said, almost begging. I didn’t want to face Josh by myself. Already I could feel the tears welling up.

Amy put her arm around me. “Don’t worry. I’m here for you.” 

As Josh approached, I saw his demeanor had changed. Usually he was very outgoing and greeted everyone as he walked through the halls with high fives, pats, and other rather complicated man-rituals that seemed to be different for each one of his friends. For the girls, he always flashed that beautiful, slightly crooked smile that made hearts melt.

Today, however, he walked by himself, head down, and unsmiling. He completely ignored everyone, despite several attempts to get his attention. By simply doing nothing, he caused quite a stir, and I could see the confused looks and tiny knots of conversation he left in his wake.

When he finally got close enough that I could get a good look at him, my heart dropped. He had a pronounced limp favoring his right leg, and on his left wrist and forearm he wore a full cast. I immediately flashed back to the moment I had gripped his hand in fear and heard the crunch. I had done this to him.

My first instinct was to rush toward him and see if everything was all right. I wanted to throw my arms around him, beg his forgiveness, and promise him that it would never happen again. But that look on his face was all I needed to know that it would never be all right between us again.

As he walked by, Josh looked up and met my gaze. His dull, glazed look evaporated and was replaced by one of... sadness? Concern? I couldn’t tell what it was.

Our eye contact lasted no more than a few seconds before he turned away and continued limping down the hall, refusing to even acknowledge me. When he reached the boy’s restroom, he looked back with one last glance, pushed his way in, and disappeared.

“Ok, Madison,” Amy said. “What’s going on?”

“Huh?” I was still distracted by Josh pulling a Houdini into the bathroom.

“You tell me that Josh breaks up with you, and then he comes into school looking like he’s been hit by a truck. What did you do, order a mob hit on him?” She was smiling, clearly thinking it was a joke, but I couldn’t bring myself to laugh.

“I... I’m not sure what happened,” I said. I had a hard time concentrating. I leaned against my locker, hitting the back of my head against the door in frustration.

There wasn’t much time before the bell rang, so Amy and I waded through the flow of humanity to Physics class. Not that I remembered much about that class. I spent most of the time alternating between horror at what I had done to Josh and fear about who I might hurt next.

I walked through my daily motions in a daze. Classes that had seemed so important to me only a few days ago now felt hollow and empty. How could I care about Math and History when I was some sort of time bomb, ticking away the seconds until I exploded again? It might not be today or tomorrow, but I felt certain it would happen again. I could sense the power inside me, contained for now, but waiting to come out again. 

When lunch came, I sat at a table by myself. Amy was in a different lunch period, and I didn’t want to sit with my newly acquired friends. They had only befriended me because of Josh, and my relationships with them felt superficial and fragile. They were nice enough, but I always felt as if I were walking on eggshells with them. Besides, sitting near Josh didn’t seem like such a good idea right now.

I abandoned all pretense of eating when Josh walked in. He bought his lunch and sat down in his usual spot at his table. Our table. At least, it had been, but I highly doubted it would ever be our table again.

From across the cafeteria I could see the interrogation start as soon as he sat down. Megan Richardson and Selma Torres both looked back at me before leaning forward and speaking to Josh. When he answered, the entire table stopped talking to listen.

What was he telling them? That I was some sort of freak who almost killed him? Or was he going to be a jerk and claim he had gotten what he wanted from me and kicked me to the curb? Isn’t that what boys did when they broke up with girls? Whatever he said, it caused Mason Cross and Taylor Simpson to turn and gape at me in disbelief.

My body quivered, my heart raced, and my senses sharpened. I gripped the edges of the table, afraid that I was going to start glowing and destroy the cafeteria. My hearing had sharpened to the point that I could hear the conversation at Josh’s table as if I were standing next to it.

Mason shook his head. “Seriously? She broke up with you?”

Josh nodded slowly. “She said I was a great guy, but I couldn’t meet her emotional needs.”

“What emotional needs?” Taylor asked.

“You know,” Josh said. “Um, to be understood, to focus on the relationship. That kind of stuff.”

“It was only your third date and she was already talking about the relationship?” said Mason. “There’s just something wrong with that.”

“That’s because guys have the emotional depth of a puddle on the sidewalk,” said Megan. She grinned at Selma who folded her arms and nodded in agreement.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Why was he telling them that I broke up with him? I didn’t want to break up. There was nothing I wanted less than that. Had he just assumed that I wouldn’t want to go out with him again? Had I completely misread the situation? Maybe there was still a chance of getting back together.

Hope soaring inside me, I waited until Josh finished eating and got up from the lunch table. I dumped my trash and walked up behind to tap him on the shoulder. “Can we talk?” I asked.

Josh’s eyes widened. He looked around as if he was nervous about who might see us talking. He gently grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the cafeteria and down the hall until we found a relatively secluded spot by the janitor’s closet.

“What?” he asked.

I took a deep breath. “I heard you talking in the cafeteria,” I said.

He raised his eyebrows. “From across the room?”

Ah, so he had been watching me. I shrugged. “That’s not important. I just wanted to tell you that I don’t want to break up. I don’t understand what happened on Friday, but it scared me, and I feel afraid and alone. I need you now more than ever.” I leaned in and wrapped my arms around him.

Josh didn’t hug me back. After a moment I pulled away, feeling awkward. Josh looked at his feet and didn’t say anything right away. “Madison, I know you don’t want to break up, and neither do I, but we can’t be together.”

 “Why not?” I asked.

Josh sighed and looked up at me with those beautiful, deep brown eyes. “You’re everything I ever wanted in a girl,” he said. “You’re smart, beautiful, and funny.” Oh, those words felt wonderful out of context. Why couldn’t he just stop there before the big BUT that was clearly on its way?

“But Friday night changed everything.” He lifted his arm and held up the cast. “How can we be together when in the back of my mind I’ll always be wondering if something like this is going happen again?”

“Josh, I-”

“What if next time we’re out in public and you end up hurting a bunch of people? Or we’re at my house and you accidently break my little sister’s neck?”

“I would never-”

“Never? Can you really promise me that?”

I tried to say it wouldn’t happen again, but I couldn’t get the words out. They would have been lies because deep down, I knew this wasn’t over.

When I didn’t answer, Josh lowered his arm. “That’s what I thought.” He sighed and used his good hand to push his hair out of his face. “I don’t know what happened on Friday, and I really don’t want to know. I just know I don’t want to be around you when it happens again.”

Crash. Burn. As Josh turned to walk away, I still had one last question.

“Why are you telling everyone that I broke up with you?”

Josh stopped, but didn’t turn around. “I just figured that it might be easier for you if everyone thought you had broken up with me.” He looked back and shrugged. “I still care about you, Madison. I just can’t be with you.”

I turned away, not wanting to watch him leave, not wanting him to see the tears that were sure to come. Why did he have to be so – good? He wanted to make it easier on me? He should have told everyone he had gotten what he wanted from me and dumped me. Then I could have hated him. Instead his noble gesture made me care about him more than ever.

That was pain.

The next two weeks flew by in a haze of despair. For the first few days, well-intentioned friends bombarded me with a barrage of questions that were the emotional equivalent of removing my own appendix without anesthesia. Everyone assumed that since I was the one who broke up with Josh that I was fine, and it was OK to grill me for details.

I was not fine.

My responses were vague and unsatisfying, usually resulting in more questions that I didn’t know how to answer. How could I explain why I supposedly broke up with Josh when all I wanted was to be with him, to feel his comforting arms around me holding me tight?

Amy wanted to know why I told her that Josh had broken up with me when he was telling everyone that I had broken up with him. I couldn’t think of a good reason, so I told her it was complicated and that I didn’t really understand either. I think she suspected that my revised story wasn’t the entire truth, but she didn’t press me on it.

After about a week the breakup became old news and curiosity began to die down. It remained fresh and painful in my mind, though. Maintaining a normal social façade was too difficult, and I became socially withdrawn. I ate alone in the cafeteria, seated at a table as far away from Josh as possible.

Amy, however, was determined to not let me ostracize myself. She made a concerted effort to force me into as many social situations as possible.

On Wednesday, when she invited me to go to the football game that weekend, I automatically declined. I didn’t feel like being with friends - my heart hurt in ways I had never known possible. My emotions were too saturated, and there was no room or desire for fun. But stubborn, well-meaning Amy wouldn’t take no for an answer. She used every trick in the book, including massive doses of guilt.

She cornered me at my locker Friday morning. “Please, I need you there with me,” she said. “Cory Jones is going to be there, and he is
this close
to asking me out.” She held up her finger and thumb practically touching. “If it’s just you and me, we can casually sit close to him and then work our way into doing something with him and his friends after the game.”

 I sighed. The football game was the last place I wanted to go. Just the thought of these schemes and plans made me tired. Besides, Josh would likely be there, and the last thing I needed was to be around him right now. What if he came with another girl? I didn’t think I could handle seeing that. “Amy, I –”

“Please,” she said. She dropped down to her knees in the middle of the hall and actually begged. “This is my chance to get close to him without scaring him off. Besides,” she had a mischievous gleam in her eye, “Ryan Jacobs will be with him.”

“Stop that,” I said, and I pulled her to her feet, trying not to laugh. “People are staring.” That was true. Her little begging routine had drawn some very odd looks.

Who was this girl? She sure didn’t seem like the Amy I had grown up with. Somehow, while I was going through my own changes this summer, she had turned into the Machiavelli of dating. This plan had layers upon layers of conniving.

Last year, I had had intermittent crushes on Ryan Jacobs during the times I had gotten tired of waiting for Josh. Using him as incentive meant Amy was going to play dirty and wouldn’t quit until I gave in.

She batted her eyes in a parody of innocence. “Pretty please? I’ll be your best friend.”

I couldn’t resist. I wasn’t interested in Ryan Jacobs any more, but if I was ever going to get over Josh, I did need to get out of the house and do something. Amy’s intentions were pure – mostly - even if she was going to use me to get closer to Cory. I pulled out my books and closed my locker. “Fine,” I said.

Amy squealed and gave me a huge hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she said. “You won’t regret this! Friday will be a night to remember!”

***

Friday night I borrowed my mom’s car and picked up Amy before the game. She had gone all out with full make-up and perfectly styled hair. She wore her tan skirt - which I knew was the shortest one she owned - and a tight blouse that didn’t skimp on the cleavage.

I, on the other hand, had pulled back my hair in a ponytail and worn jeans and my black sweatshirt with Woodbridge High written on it in bright orange letters.

Amy took her time assessing my appearance as she climbed in and set a canvas bag down at her feet. She didn’t try to hide her disapproval.

“You look very, uh... school spirited,” she said.

I glared at her. “It’s a football game. And besides, you look cold.” There were a few other adjectives I wanted to use, but I held my tongue.

She grinned at me. “I know. Do you think Cory will let me borrow his jacket?”

I rolled my eyes and pulled out of the driveway. Amy never did anything half-way. “What if he doesn’t have a jacket?” I asked.

Amy put a hand on her chest and gave me a wounded look. “Do you think I’m an amateur?” She held up the bag at her feet. “A stadium blanket. If he’s not wearing a jacket, I invite him to join me under my blanket. It’s warm enough to be inviting, and small enough to require some cuddling. I’ve planned for all the contingencies.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. She was like an unstoppable force of nature. Poor Cory didn’t stand a chance.

Even though we arrived a half hour before kickoff, the parking lot at school was almost completely full, and we had to park on the opposite side by the woods. I didn’t like parking there, especially at night. The trees were so thick that anything could be hiding in there and you would never see it until it was too late.

Shortly after I was born, a girl had been abducted from this same parking lot and taken into the woods. They found her body the next day, but they had to check the dental records to confirm it was her. The mystery had never been solved, but even sixteen years later there were still rumors and stories about things that happened there. It was now affectionately known to the students of Woodbridge High as the “dead woods.”

Amy left her blanket in the car, since it was the backup plan, and we crossed the parking lot to the ticket line. We bought our tickets and walked into the stadium.

The home stands were a sea of black and orange, our unfortunate school colors. This was our big rivalry game and everyone was there. The entire crowd, myself included, looked like Halloween had thrown up on them. Amy scowled when she saw how everyone was dressed. Her short skirt and tight blouse definitely stood out.

Never one to give up easily, Amy began scanning the crowd, looking for Cory and his friends. We found them in the right side of the bleachers. Sure enough, Cory was wearing a leather jacket. Amy dragged me up the stairs to sit a few seats away from them and one row back.

“Now we just need to wait for Cory to come to us,” Amy said with confidence. We sat there for a few minutes, but Cory didn’t even notice us. He and his friends were too busy talking and laughing to pay attention to anything else.

I looked at Amy and shrugged, but she didn’t seem worried.

“Patience,” she said. “We can’t make it too obvious or we’ll scare him away.”

While Amy was waited for Cory to take the bait and fall into her trap, I scanned through the crowd. I couldn’t help it; I’m a die-hard people watcher.

At some point while I was watching Lizzy Cole flirt with Gary Crean, Cory must have noticed Amy. By the time I looked back over, he had struck up a conversation with her. Amy winked at me and motioned to Ryan Jacobs who was sitting on the other side of Cory talking to another friend.

I shook my head vigorously. I was not at all interested in pursuing another guy.

Amy gave me another wink and then began shivering and wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s so cold,” she said. “I should have worn a jacket.”

Like a performing animal executing what it has been trained to do, Cory removed his coat and placed it over Amy’s shoulders. He sat down next to her, and she snuggled in, scooting closer to him. “Thanks, Cory,” she said, flashing him a wide smile when he put his arm around her shoulder – to keep her warm, of course.

 The game started and our team won the toss. By the end of the first quarter we were up 13 – 0. Comfortably encircled in Cory’s arms, Amy appeared satisfied that she and Cory were together and began pulling me into the conversation, preparing to get us invited to hang out with them after the game.

I resisted her efforts and concentrated on the game. I actually liked football, and watched quite a bit of it with my dad. While I wasn’t an expert, I knew enough to hold my own in a conversation with most guys.   

Right before half time, Amy leaned over to me. “Why don’t you go get the blanket?” she asked.

“Why do you want the blanket?” I asked. She didn’t need it since she was already wearing Cory’s jacket and wrapped in his arms.

“I think Ryan might be getting a little cold,” she said.

A complete lie. Ryan was wearing a warm jacket and looked perfectly comfortable. I narrowed my eyes. “He’s fine.”

Amy gave me an exasperated sigh. “Do you want to move past Josh, or remain a self-imposed social pariah?”

“I’ll move past him,” I said. “I’m just not ready.”

“Look, a frozen turkey is never ready unless you pull it out of the freezer,” said Amy.

“Are we talking relationships or cooking?” I asked.

Amy ignored me and pressed on with her bizarre metaphor. “And you never will be ready if you don’t get out of the freezer, let go, and have some fun... you big turkey.” Amy reached over and gave my hand a squeeze. “You can do this.” She looked over at Ryan. “Besides, it’s not like he’s hard to look at. Just trust me; tonight is the night. You might never get this opportunity again.”

With a groan I stood up and clomped down the bleachers. How could I tell her that I didn’t want to be in a relationship because I was dangerous? What if every time I kissed a boy I ended up hurting him? I was a disaster waiting to happen.

Getting my hand stamped at the gate, I trekked out to the car. It made me a bit nervous to be out there by the woods alone, but I didn’t want to face Amy’s wrath if I came back without the blanket. Besides, there was a good chance I was more dangerous than anything out there.

I grabbed the blanket and began the long journey back to the stadium. How was I going to get out of this situation? I could simply turn around, get in the car, and leave. I was pretty confident Cory would make sure Amy was well taken care of. I could feign early curfew and go home right after the game. Except Amy would see right through that.

I was almost back to the stadium when I turned the corner near the concession stand and walked into my worst nightmare.

Ginger Johnson, looking excessively perky in her black and orange cheerleader outfit, stood in front of Josh, her head raised and eyes closed as he leaned forward and gently kissed her.

I stared, too stunned to move. Ginger Johnson was kissing Josh.

My Josh. My kiss.

My cheeks flushed and my heart began a sort of arrhythmic jazz beat. My senses sharpened, and I saw the kiss in perfect detail. I heard the soft sound of their lips pressing together and even smelled Ginger’s perfume.

Pressure mounted inside me, and I knew it had to come out. I turned around and ran.

Within three steps my body began to glow and my speed increased dramatically. I dashed into the parking lot, moving so fast the cars I passed were little more than brightly colored blurs.

I was desperate to get away before anyone saw me, but as I scanned my options, there was only one place where I could go and hide: The dead woods.

Within seconds I was running through the forest, weaving between the trees. It should have been difficult to avoid the trees and other obstacles while running so fast, but my reflexes were so heightened that it seemed effortless.