Authors: Abra Ebner
EMILY:
Arriving at school we all piled out of Jake’s car. I happily volunteered to take the back seat despite Wes’s suggestion I have the front. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be close to Jake. That was hardly it. I just didn’t want to have a front row seat to the glances and stares we were sure to receive. My rubber boots slid slightly as they hit the pavement, revealing the black ice that had formed there. I took caution, but refused Wes’s hand when he offered it.
“What lunch period did you get?” I asked as we walked behind Jake and Lacy.
He pulled the now crumpled piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. “Looks like I got second lunch. You?”
I regretfully unfolded mine, holding it with hands wrapped in pink pilled-out gloves. “First,” I grumbled. “Why would they do that? Leave me alone like that? I swear these people . . .” I didn’t allow myself to finish the sentence.
Jake stopped briefly to let us to catch up to him. “I have first lunch.”
I snorted. “Eavesdropping much?”
He shrugged. “Come on, at least you won’t be alone.”
Wes used to care when I talked to Jake, given the nature of Jake visiting me in my room in the dark only weeks ago, but, like another sign of his distance, he didn’t seem to care anymore. He’d walked on ahead, now playfully laughing with his sister in a way I wish we still could.
“I need to talk to you,” I fessed to Jake.
“Okay, shoot.”
I shook my head. “No, I mean. I
really
need to talk to you.”
Jake tilted his head. “Can’t you just leave it alone?”
I felt tense. “No. That’s the problem. I have an addictive personality, Jake, once I get on a roll it’s hard for me to break it. I need answers. I need to know what this light is between us. It makes no sense, and frankly, it’s a little too ethereal-supernatural for my taste. In a way it’s downright creepy how it makes me feel.”
He held out a mitten-covered hand toward me as though to suggest I lower my voice.
“Wes isn’t going to care, Jake.
Clearly
he doesn’t care anymore.” Those words made me feel like crying all of a sudden.
I could see Jake falter as he wanted to grasp my hand and comfort me. He didn’t.
“I don’t know, Jake. You’ve seen how he’s been, haven’t you?”
Jake shrugged. I could tell he was just trying to avoid taking sides.
“Please, Jake. I don’t know how much more I can handle.”
“From Wes?”
I felt heavy. “No, from life. I just need something, anything that’s going to make me look forward to my days awake rather than dreaming in my perfect world. I dread the daylight and hunger for night. That’s not a good thing.”
Jake bit his lip. “No man, or no answer is going to make your life any better. Happiness is something that comes from inside.”
I laughed sarcastically. “Yeah, sure—to a point. I don’t really believe that’s all true. I feel like having something as simple as a friend who will be frank with me could be all I need to have the strength to keep living.”
He grumbled. “I’m frank with you.”
It was the exact reply I was looking for. “No. You’re not.”
I noticed as his jaw clenched and I thought of his teeth, his real teeth, hidden under the grotesque guise he chose to own. “Fine.”
“Fine what?” I felt my emotions perk a little.
“Fine. We’ll talk about it, but it’s not going to make you feel any better. You’re still going to be miserable, if not more so. That light makes me miserable as well.”
“Makes
you
miserable? How? You act like it’s not there.”
“I know I do. It’s how I cope. It’s your addictive personality that makes me want to keep the real reason for it away from you. Do you understand that? Think it over, and if you still want to know what it is at lunch I’ll explain, but seriously—I don’t think you want to know. I don’t think you’re going to be able to handle it.”
I didn’t like being told what I could and could not handle. Jake should have known me well enough to know not to say that. “I can handle anything, Jake.”
He rolled his eyes. “Of course you can.” He looked nervous.
I wasn’t used to seeing Jake act so nervous unless he was doing just that—acting. He was good at it when he was playing the geeky roll he did at school, but this was real nervousness.
“I better run,” he added.
I sensed that he didn’t want to leave me, but he did anyway. I figured he didn’t want me trying to pry answers out of him before lunch. Wes had walked on ahead with Lacy, not bothering to care what happened to me. It hurt. How could he do this to me so fast? I understood that this was Lacy’s first day in school and she was going to need guidance, but this was my first day back to school, too—didn’t I need help? I tried to make myself feel better by justifying it—he’s just a boy. The problem with that excuse, however, was that then there was Max. Max would have never done that to Jane. Max doted on Jane hand and foot, and Jane, though not always so thankful, loved him in return—I got enough from her mind to know that.
I walked up to the front doors, hand hovering over the handle. I didn’t have time to relish the suspense of the moment, though. The door flew open and a group of older kids brushed past me. One bumped my shoulder rather hard, not bothering to say sorry but rather glancing at me as though I were a nuisance. Once he saw my face, however, his expression changed to one of fearful awkwardness and he turned away. Eric Bone was his name, not that I knew that a moment ago, but human minds were an open book. He didn’t know my sister, but he knew about what had happened and who I was. I hated the pity and malicious thoughts that trickled out after him. How could he so rudely think that he was happy to see Jane gone? Were people really so mean and thoughtless?
This is what I was dreading most—the thoughts. No doubt I was about to hear an orchestra of opinions on my sister’s passing, but at this point what choice did I have but to bear it?
I caught the door as it slowly closed, swinging it back open and entering the crowded hall. I bowed my head and tried to act unconcerned and unaffected, like I’d never left school at all. I didn’t have to look up to know just how everyone looked at me. Though I’m sure the hall was filled with silence to a normal person, it was booming with noise in my world. Unfiltered opinions bombarded me and though I tried my best to ignore them, accusations that I was somehow involved in her death could not be ignored. Never had I wished for a means to escape the thoughts than I did now. Never in my whole life had I felt this much pressure, and while in such a weakened state. I almost craved the taste of Greg’s blood like I hadn’t eaten a thing in days. Anything to make it stop.
I hazily found my way to my locker, struggling to remember the code. I focused on each number.
Five
—ignoring the group of sophomore tarts as they passed, whispering amongst themselves, wishing it was me that had died instead, at least Jane was the quiet one. Twist to the left,
fifteen
—ignoring the boy leaning against the wall a few feet away who had the locker next to mine, too afraid to come use it while I was here.
My hand shook as I found the last number and swung the door open. I hastily shoved my bag inside and slammed it. Veering away from it all, the first bell rang. I winced at the sound, hearing it pierce over the echo of the crowd. When the bell stopped ringing, to my relief, many of the thoughts had quieted, but they were still louder than ever. Before, it had been easy to handle the thoughts as I had blended in better. This was madness.
I passed up my first class, heading to the only place I knew of to find refuge. I thought to myself how ironic this felt, a cold chill washing over me as I finally understood. Tears threatened my eyes as I thought of Jane. All her visions of death, as invasive as the thoughts I heard now—no wonder she was so tired, so grumpy, and
so
plain. I arrived at the library doors, delving inside as I released a painful breath. A cold sweat had begun to form across my skin, but as the doors shut behind me, the rude comments were replaced by soft whispers and author’s voices. The lights were only half on, the librarian likely tucked in her office wasting her first hour of the day on mindless emails and Facebook games.
I took a moment to regroup. At least I was at school. That was a good first step. I hadn’t spent much time in the library in the past, but what I knew of it then was nothing compared to how I saw it now—this was a Mecca. I made my way to a stack and touched the books there, hearing the author’s voices echo back at me. They were calm, some contrite, and others whimsical. These were voices I could grow to get used to.
I made my way to the stack where I first learned about who Jake really was. It was the section on poetry. I swam in a sea of rhythmic voices. I shut my eyes feeling so calm. My hands reached out and found the books as I leaned back against the shelves and slid to the floor. I sat there leaning against the shelves for some time before sleep overcame me.
. . .
“There you are. I figured I’d find you here.”
I woke with a start, coming out of a fog of voices and into another. I looked up.
Jake looked down on me. “Not really surprised to see you here. I figured you were going to have a rough day. I have to admit it’s been rough for me, too.” He raised an eyebrow, his blue light hidden behind the thick glasses. I was a little disappointed. “Not fun.” He had a brown sack in his hand as he took his place beside me on the floor. “And the librarian clearly did not find you—not surprised by that, either.
She’s rather daft,
” he murmured.
I sat up a little, running a hand through my hair and laughing.
“I’m sorry I left you. I shouldn’t have made you face the hallways on your own,” he shrugged, opening the paper bag and retrieving a banana. He peeled it and handed it to me. It was a sweet gesture, and I appreciated it.
“It really wasn’t your responsibility,” I grumbled, allowing him to put the facts together that I wasn’t too thrilled that Wes had practically ditched me.
“It should have been my responsibility,” he added rather bravely.
I looked at him sideways. “What does that mean?”
He rolled his eyes and popped the top to a fowl smelling drink in his hand. “It’s lunch, you know.” He was skirting around the question.
I laughed, looking at my banana and braking off a piece. “Clearly.”
“I told you I’d tell you about the blue light, remember?”
Okay, so maybe he wasn’t skirting around the question at all. How could I forget? “Yeah.” I suddenly felt much more with it.
He swallowed a gulp of unknown liquid, staring at the can and picking at the tab. “I guess this is harder to say than I thought,” he mumbled.
I clenched my jaw.
Please,
someone be frank with me.
He drew in a deep breath and exhaled dramatically before starting. “What you see only happens to vampires, and it’s rare. Unfortunately, there’s also nothing I, or we, can do about it.” He smiled bleakly. “I was so happy the first time I saw this light with you. For years I had . . .
hoped
, I suppose, to find the person who had it.” He bit his lip to cover the fact it was shaking. “I hide it behind these glasses on purpose. I never wanted you to see it because of what it meant, and what it does to you.”
I had one brow raised, still casually picking at my banana. I chose not to interrupt. At this point, I didn’t have much to say—he still hadn’t given me enough information to formulate a precise enough question.
He sighed and set his can down. “You see, this light is our shared soul.” He wasn’t looking at me, he wasn’t even moving.
I froze as well. “What do you mean by
shared
soul?” I finally asked a moment later.
“What I mean is . . .
love
. It’s love. Basically it’s telling me that you’re my soul mate.”
“Soul mate?”
I gawked, searching his eyes.
“Yeah, soul mate, as in Max and Jane.”
I wanted him to tell me he was joking—he didn’t. “You’re joking, right? How can that be? I love Wes.” But then again,
did I?
Jake looked a little disappointed by my reaction. I could see that perhaps he was looking for me to drop everything and profess my love for him in return. In all honesty, I hadn’t really thought about it like that. I mean, I craved that blue light, but I didn’t really
crave
Jake . . . necessarily—
maybe?
I shook my head.
My curiosity for the light felt more like obsession, not love. Something more like how a fling feels, a craving, something that’s easily quenched and forgotten. Clearly, that was not the case with Jake—he really
did
love me. That much was obvious already.
“It just is,” he added, sounding lost and taken aback.