We Awaken (2 page)

The Kingdom.

Her comments, the absolute proof, resonated through my memory. It was such a casual reference but no one other than Reeves could possibly know. Whenever he couldn’t sleep, or we wanted to hide from everything, he’d drag me in there. That closet was a universe of its own. It was always difficult to shut the doors from the inside, but we’d manage, and with flashlights propped up or dangling from clothes hangers, I’d read. There was a book of fables illustrated by someone who might as well have never even seen a pen, let alone known how to use one, and on nights Reeves awoke from nightmares I’d read him….

Damn.

I’d read him the story of the sandman.

No one mentioned when I groaned against the desk. What the hell had become of my life? I must admit, if Ashlinn was the sandman she beat every expectation. Due to the unimaginative illustrations of whoever-the-heck, I had always pictured the dude to be short and bearded. Maybe a bit pudgy. Definitely creepy. I’d take this version any day.

Like the alarm clock that pulled me away from her, school bells rang, and I exited the rooms without even bidding farewell to the teachers. Only two semesters and forty minutes left of high school with two short breaks for summers, and then it would be (hopefully) off to Manhattan.

But before any of that, I’d have to be social for a period.

I walked into class, giving a silent farewell to the poster of a cat saying “
Accrochez-vous
,” and sat next to Ellie, who greeted me by groaning, “It’s so hot I could tongue-kiss an air-conditioning unit. Not that we ever have any air-conditioning that actually works.”

Like a swooning maiden, she had an arm flung across her forehead beneath her platinum white hair, which stood up in sweaty spikes. Her fashion sense could best be described as Burlesque Greaser, a fact she was probably lamenting, considering how pleather was never famed for its cooling properties.

Madame Velsh put on the second half of some French cartoon called
Astérix
, which everyone in the class ignored as she stressed over entering all of our grades into the computer, a system the old woman never really understood. My friend shifted next to me, uncomfortable in the heat.

“I found a tattoo parlor. I’m gonna call them up the next time my parents are out and schedule the first appointment to make my design. Sure you don’t wanna come?” Ellie spoke with her eyes closed, languidly stretched out beneath the desk, but there was no doubt the inquiry was for me, judging by how many times she had asked similar things in the past month alone.

“You don’t need me there,” I told her. “What design are you planning to get?”

“The Jersey Devil,” she informed me with a smile in her voice.

Well, that was unexpected.

“Why?”

“He’s gonna be my protector when I go off to college. When I was little, I thought he lived right outside my window, but I wasn’t frightened. He watched out for me, scared away the real monsters. So maybe having him on my thigh forever will keep away more than some werewolves.”

“I’m not sure if anything is gonna scare away drunken frat boys.”

She snorted and went back to fake napping.

We didn’t talk about college often. Generally schoolwork was an unsafe topic around Ellie, not because she hated it but because she was a genius. Her grades were so good she felt guilty for not having to try too hard. She had several reputations with varying cliques and clubs throughout the school, and the only friends who might have had any idea of her brilliance were those gained in AP government and chemistry. The rest of the school remained in blissful ignorance of the fact she was in those classes at all, and the only reason I was privy to this knowledge was because of how close we were. Well, used to be. Before the accident.

At the end of class, she leaned over my desk.

“Hey, it’s the last day of school. Why don’t you let me drive you home in The Hovercraft?”

Another fact about Ellie is that she lovingly referred to her old green Dodge as The Hovercraft. The car had been passed down through two older brothers and her father before them, and once when she was younger, one brother in particular said that by the time she got her license everyone else would be floating up to school in a hovercraft. She would still be stuck in their piece of crap car. She believed every word and was petrified of how much everyone would mock her for rolling around on wheels while they flew. When the last brother in the parade of those before her passed over the keys, she gave the car its current moniker in spite of his prediction, and it stuck. That was of her own doing, though.

I really didn’t feel like walking. It was warmer than the heart of Saint Nick out there and driving cut transportation time. I could definitely do with the extra minutes to think about last night and the reason why there was a white flower wedged between the pages of my English notebook, so I accepted her offer. Ellie looked painfully surprised. We walked out of class together, and I almost forgot we barely spoke anymore, not since last year, and made a show of not having to stop at our lockers. In fact, she leaned against them as we walked, dragging her backpack along so everyone could hear the click of the zipper against each lock.

The atmosphere was absolutely buoyant and the seniors might have just floated away if they got any giddier. That would be us in a year’s time.

Ellie cheerily waved to a good chunk of the school’s population, and you could see the different nuances in each greeting depending on the image she maintained with that group of people. It was an impressive, if subtle, feat. By the time we reached her car, she had shouted to so many students to have a “fantastic fucking summer” that it was shocking she hadn’t gone hoarse.

I slouched into the passenger’s seat as she took the driver’s position, grinning.

“Let’s go get ice cream or something. It’s our last day in that hellhole for two months, and we gotta celebrate.”

“I haven’t got any money.” The truth. “And I’m not too keen on ice cream anymore.” A lie.

She reached over me to grab sunglasses out of the glove compartment.

“No worries, I’ll cover you. I’m not sure what ice cream ever did to you, but we can get fries instead. Let’s go.”

Ellie donned the glasses with a grin that showed she definitely realized how cool she looked before rocketing out of the parking lot as fast as one could go without drawing the attention of any security guards.

We both stared out the front windshield, and before the silence could become oppressive she started playing a CD. She sang along loudly with some song from the sixties called “Green Tambourine.” Her words were definitely incorrect. When it finally ended, the song began again without giving me any break.

“Are there any other songs on this disc?” I asked, confused.

“Nah. It’s not even mine, really. It was Kevin’s, that guy I dated back in October so I could buy those cute Halloween costumes. The sort for couples. He was obsessed with this song and made a CD of nothing but the damn thing on repeat. Been too lazy to take it out, so now I’m an expert on the intricacies of a song, which honestly sounds like the result of an acid trip. My every dream come true.”

It was like a pro wrestling match. In one corner: awkward silence and small talk with someone who used to know every detail of your life. In the other: a god-awful song that generates headaches like it was being paid to. Which one was more painful? I opted to stick with the headaches, so it played on as an old road carried us in the opposite direction of my house and toward McDonald’s.

“I’m gonna try and bring us through the drive-thru. Let’s see how badly I fuck it up.”

She swung the wheel around dramatically and ended up a bit too far from where we ordered, but that could be dealt with by shouting loudly into the voice box. When she pulled around again we ended up even farther away from the building than before. The zombie-like employee seemed almost on the verge of being amused when Ellie was forced to climb out of the car and walk up to the window to take the food. She hopped back in after giving a wave to those in line behind us, carrying bags that bulged with greasy fries.

“This is why we should all be like you and avoid driving. I don’t know what I did to pass my test, but someone out there is regretting it now.” She was smiling, but that began to melt away when she glanced at me.

My mind had jumped back to Reeves and Dad.

Shards of metal and rivers of gas. Hospital beds and freshly dug graves.

Why the hell was I in a car if that’s what killed my family? The air in them always seemed several sizes too small for my lungs.

Ellie looked at me, panicked. She didn’t seem as oxygen deprived as it felt in this damn car.

“Shit, I’m sorry. That was a really insensitive thing to say. Shouldn’t have brought that up, the whole driving thing. You okay?”

I just nodded and faked a smile as she handed over the food and began driving away. I rolled down the window halfway and rested my head against it.

“Yeah I’m fine.”

That response was delayed, and I don’t think she bought it. The somewhat jovial mood was gone. She acted just as upbeat as before, though, and soon said, “Fry me,” opening her mouth and leaning toward me with eyes still on the road. Getting the message, I pried my hands off her car door and shoved four fries between her teeth. I ate mine quietly beside her, and we listened to “Green Tambourine” yet again and after this time, simultaneously the fourth hearing of it that day and in my whole life, she clicked it off.

“Okay, I dished out one of my infamous idiotic ex stories about the CD. Please tell me you’ve managed to get a few for yourself recently. Any chance you’ve found a girlfriend and have just been really good at hiding it from me?” Her tone was eager, if not a bit exasperated.

Having her knowledgeable of my sexuality should have been a blessing, but I almost wished she was as clueless as the rest of the school. I never even came out of the closet. She more or less dragged me and had refused to keep quiet about it since. The thought of being in a relationship wasn’t distasteful; I just didn’t feel ready. My excuse was always that I was waiting until after high school, but she didn’t buy that and was constantly trying to push me into the arms of lesbians or even men that, in her words, were “feminine enough that I shouldn’t mind too much.” Instead of going off on her for pressuring me or breaking the news that I wasn’t even sure of my sexuality, I told a variation of the truth.

“Sorry to disappoint. If I had a girlfriend, you’d be the first to know.”

She turned to glare at me over the top of her sunglasses.

“You’re going to be the only person in college who has no idea how to make out with someone.”

How does one go about telling her friend that she didn’t seem to have grown out of the kissing-is-icky phase we spent our whole youth in? People really enjoyed kissing—that was one fact of life—so obviously I believed I would enjoy it too one day, but I wasn’t in the mood to hurry it along. If movies had taught me one thing, it was that this could wait for college. I just shrugged at her statement and stared out the window, my thoughts scattering like dandelion fuzz but now rooted in Ashlinn. Remembering the accident reminded me of Reeves. That girl knew about the stories I had once told my brother. How was that possible?

We were nearing my house. Thank God. Ellie was wonderful, but people change. I had witnessed this firsthand with her, but that fact was starting to become even more applicable to me. The Hovercraft pulled to the curb, and I said a quick good-bye before jumping out. As I walked away, she rolled down the window and shouted, “Hey, are you doing anything tonight? I’m having a bonfire with some friends later.”

“Which ones, the honors society members or the stoners?”

Her brilliant smile faltered but only for a blip in time. “Oh, none of them. Just some guys from my study hall.”

The last time I had willingly spent free time with someone my age had happened over a year ago. All the excuses that sprang to the forefront of my mind were weak, so I just threw one that had worked in the past, well aware that she probably wouldn’t buy it.

“Sorry, but I have to practice my dance.”

At that her already weak smile turned sad. “Yeah, don’t you always? Catch you around, Victoria.” She pushed the sunglasses farther up on her nose, and I heard the beginnings of “Green Tambourine” through the window as she pulled away.

The second I got in the house, I took the carnation from my bag and tucked it back behind my ear, then tossed the bag in the coat closet. That wouldn’t be needed for a whole season.

Walking into the living room revealed Mother passed out asleep on the couch with her shoes (and the TV) still on. I tapped her on the shoulder, and she shuddered awake with panic seizing her body but then she settled drowsily after a second.

“Oh God, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. What time is it?” she asked, rubbing her hands over her face and sitting up straighter on the couch. “Also, nice flower,” she added, squinting at my head, confused.

“Thanks. It’s a quarter to three.” I pointed at the clock on the DVD player, and she shot off the couch.

“I was going to go to the hospital before you came home! I think visiting hours are over soon.” She ran to her purse and rummaged around for the keys, then turned to me like a whirlwind and asked doubtfully, “Wanna come?”

Instead of responding with the impulsive Absolutely Not and giving the same excuse I had just told Ellie, I stopped myself. It was impossible to think of Reeves passively. When he came to mind, there was no option but to devote all my energy to drowning in regret, so my fallback was to just ignore the whole thing, as awful as that sounds. After last night’s dream, though, it felt wrong. Even if he hadn’t sent me a message, my mind had decided that his existence needed to be addressed. Maybe seeing him was what I needed.

Steeling myself, I told my mother I would join her, and her eyes widened, looking just as surprised as I felt.

We drove in a familiar silence. I hadn’t visited Reeves since it became clear he wouldn’t be getting any better, and I remembered why as we pulled up outside the hospital. At the graveyard there was no hope, so there was nothing to lose and no chance for disappointment. Optimists could only be let down.