Arcadia's Gift (Arcadia Trilogy) (13 page)

As I rounded the corner, there was Bryan, leaning up against the wall by my first hour government class, his attention on the battered Dean Koontz novel in his hands. I slowed my gait, pleased to watch him without notice. My pulse quickened and almost made me forget about the rest of the crowd. The intense gaze of his dark brown eyes seemed as if it might set the book on fire. Absently, he teethed his lower lip, drawing my attention to its full redness. His thick hair stood up funny in the back and he’d neglected to fasten the bottom button on his shirt, but to me, he looked perfect.

Jeez, Cady. Stop being so sappy.

“Hey,” I said as I walked up beside him, trying my best to portray nonchalance.

Bryan startled at my voice, but then broke out into a big toothy grin. “Hey.”

A boy trying to get into his locker nudged me over so my arm brushed up against Bryan’s. Bryan could have stepped over, putting space between us, but he didn’t. I’m not sure what it was about being near him, but those crazy mixed-up emotions faded, giving way to a relaxing calm.

“Are you all set to give it another go?” he asked.

I nodded. “I’m ready. I think.”

“Good.”

There was a slight rosiness to his cheeks which brightened up his pale complexion. Not a blemish on him. I pretended to bite my thumb nail in order to hide the zit which had poked out on my chin during the night.

“Well, I better get inside,” I said, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do.

Bryan touched his hand to my shoulder for one brief moment and replied, “Yeah, I have to go, too. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. My phone’s on vibrate, so if you need anything, text me.” His hand patted the pocket where his cell phone snuggled against his heart.

As he strode away, I felt that strange tangle of emotions flood back. I clenched my jaw and entered the classroom just as the final bell rang.

I gave a hesitant smile to a few of those offering sympathetic looks as I walked to my seat. A feeling of deja vu came over me. Like the week before, my nerves felt like violin strings wound too tightly. I missed my name during roll call and the girl behind me had to poke me in the shoulder. My body temperature rose and I bit down on the end of my pen until my teeth left jagged marks.

Mr. Steele popped in a video on voting during the civil rights era and shut out the lights. I used the cover of darkness to get a hold of myself. Examining my emotions more closely, I realized that it wasn’t all nervousness I felt, but a whole tornado of feelings at once —some of which didn’t even make sense. There was frustration with my parents, anxiety over some big test which I wasn’t prepared for, the triumph of first love. None of these emotions felt like they belonged to me, yet there they were, taking up residence in my mind.

I squeezed my eyes shut. The air in the classroom was thick with invisible smoke which clawed at my throat. I wanted to jump out of my seat and leave, but I couldn’t risk another outburst like the previous week. Instead, I took some deep yoga breaths and tried to get a handle on myself.

When the video ended, Mr. Steele began asking questions to stimulate a discussion. I watched the final ten minutes tick off the clock and prayed he wouldn’t call on me. He didn’t. When the bell rang, I was out the door and halfway down the hall before most kids had a chance to gather up their books.

My next few classes were repeats of government. During third period gym, Coach Davis pulled me aside to talk about cross country. I hadn’t run in weeks, and honestly, I hadn’t given any thought to the meets I’d missed. Coach suggested that I withdraw for the rest of the season. I just nodded and wandered back to our dodgeball game. I knew I should be more upset about it. I loved running. But I couldn’t muster up the energy to care about things like after school sports.

By the time I entered the cafeteria and sought out my usual table with Bronwyn and Shawn, my belly was all knotted up and I was wiped out.

My friends looked at me strangely when I sat down.

“Not eating today?” Shawn asked.

I shook my head no. “Not hungry.”

Bronwyn’s eyes crinkled with concern. “How are you holding up?”

I gave a one-shoulder shrug. How could I explain the weird feelings I was having when I didn’t understand them myself? “Okay, I guess.”

Shawn popped open a can of Pepsi and sucked the foam off the top with a slurp.

“Are you feeling okay?” Bronwyn prodded with concern. “You look kind of pale.”

I waved my hand in the air like she was making a big deal out of nothing and plastered a fake grin on my lips which I hoped was passable. “I’m fine. Just feeling a bit out of the loop. Why don’t you fill me in on what’s been going on around here?”

Shawn took the hint before Bronwyn did and began to tell me about how he’d been cast as Sky Masterson in the fall musical,
Guys and Dolls
. I wasn’t surprised he’d gotten the lead. Shawn had a baritone singing voice that could cause the hair to rise on your arms, and he was a natural comedian on stage. I focused on his crazy story about something that had happened in rehearsal, and that quieted the flurry of emotions in my gut somewhat.

A throat cleared behind me and a light touch fell on my shoulder. I spun around to see Bryan holding his lunch tray. “Mind if I join you?” The uneasiness on his face looked as if he were expecting me to say no.

“Of course not.” I scooted over to make room for him on the bench beside me, but it was a tight fit between us and a group of sophomores sharing the long table.

Shawn jutted his hand out and introduced himself and Bronwyn. She flashed me a knowing look and a grin which caused heat to wash over my face.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Bronwyn said. “Cady was telling me what a big help you have been for her these last couple of weeks.”

Bryan’s eyes lit up at the compliment, and I didn’t know whether or not to be embarrassed to have been caught talking about him. The denim of his black jeans rested lightly against my thigh, and it was all I could do not to press closer against him. The strange emotions rolling through me began to be replaced with a calm happiness.

“Bryan just moved here from Oregon,” I said, trying to make conversation. This led to a discussion on how lame Dubuque must be after living in a big city like Portland. To our surprise, Bryan claimed to like it here.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he explained. “Portland is great and there is always lots to do, but I’m starting to get used to being in a city where I can get from one end to the other in less than a half hour and without ending up in a traffic jam. Before moving here, I thought it was going to be all cows and country music.”

My friends and I groaned with the Iowa stereotype.

“But it’s not like that here at all.”

Shawn raised his right hand in oath, “I swear I have
never
milked a cow in my life.”

Bronwyn giggled. “That’s because you’re scared of them!”

“Hey,” he protested. “Those things are huge compared with a ten-year-old!”

“We went to a farm for a field trip in fourth grade, and Shawn literally squealed when a cow walked up behind him,” she explained.

“It had this evil look in its eye,” Shawn claimed. “I think it had mad cow disease or rabies or something.”

“Oh, the Mad Rabid Cow of Iowa!” I exclaimed laughing. “Stop talking about it, or you’ll scare Bryan away.” It had been so long since I really laughed, and it felt wonderful.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone looking my direction. Cane Matthews stood a few tables over holding his tray of food in one hand and a bottle of Vitamin water in the other. His glare turned my blood to ice water, halting my giggles instantly.

Shawn followed my gaze. “What’s his problem?” he asked.

I shrugged and stared down at the table.

Bryan’s gaze narrowed in on Cane, and he leaned a little bit closer to me.

“It must be hard on him to see Cady,” Bronwyn answered. “She’s like a living reminder of Lony.”

“So? It’s not like she can help it,” Shawn stuck up for me.

I hadn’t really thought about how it must be for Cane to face me, the mirror image of his dead girlfriend. A shiver rolled down my spine. I wondered how he was holding up. Even though I always sort of thought of him as a meat-head, he always treated my sister well. He also had been the person standing closest to Lony when the train struck, which meant he’d had a front row view of the carnage, something I missed out on witnessing by passing out. Part of me wanted to go talk to him, to comfort him in some way, but I knew it would probably just make things worse.

After lunch, Bryan and I walked together to class.

“I like your friends,” he commented. “They’re cool.”

“Thanks.”

“So are Shawn and Bronwyn like…together?” he asked.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “No. Shawn…well…let’s just say you’re more his type than we are.”

“Oh…I get it.”

I glanced over to see his expression. If Bryan turned out to be some sort of homophobe, I might have to give this friendship another thought.

He just winked at me. “Shawn’s cute and all, but I’m afraid my interests lean in another direction.”

I blushed and then scolded myself.
He was not flirting with you! He was just letting you know he’s straight.

In lit class, the whirlwind of emotions crept up again, but Bryan’s presence behind me helped me to keep them at bay. Focusing my mind on him distracted me from the other feelings. I even raised my hand to answer for the first time all day. But when lit was over, and I went to French class, I felt like a ship lost at sea.

I struggled to concentrate. Along with the variety of emotions I’d been experiencing all day, there was something darker coming over me, a deep black cloud of depression, different from what I’d been feeling at home. The classroom was set up with the desks in a circle to promote conversation. I peered around at the other students to see if they felt anything amiss. Some seemed tired, a few bored, and one guy bobbed his head up and down slightly to the beat of the ear buds under the hood of his sweatshirt. Around me, the flowery language filled the air like the scent of perfume at a funeral.

When the final bell rang, signaling my release from school, I ran out the double-doors as fast as I could, my head spinning from the storm of emotions. The air was warm for late September, and my feet crunched the red and gold leaves under my feet. I didn’t want to go home. Not yet. After the day I had, the last thing I wanted to do was return to the House of Perpetual Mourning. Rather than turning down my street, my feet trekked on aimlessly.

What in the heck happened to me today?
It was something more than just sadness over my sister and the uneasiness of returning to school. It was like I’d been put in a clothes dryer filled with all of the emotions of everyone in the school and forced to tumble around with them for seven hours. I was worn out.

I turned down the next street over from my house. There was a small park a couple of blocks down where Bronwyn and I sometimes liked to hang out on the swings. A broken piece of sidewalk chalk was left abandoned on the ground and I kicked it hard with the toe of my Sketchers.

“Cady!” a voice called to me.

I looked up from my feet and saw the strange neighbor woman, the one whose backyard met mine, grinning at me from her front stoop. How did she know my name? I lifted my hand tentatively and waved.

“Will you come here a moment? I’d like to speak with you,” the woman said.

Oh, no.
Was she planning on scolding me for spying on her with my binoculars? But she didn’t look angry. Her expression was open and friendly. With a deep breath, I trudged up the walk to her front door.

“I have some lavender tea on the stove. Come in.”

It’s not like I was afraid of strangers, but this one made me uneasy. As if reading my thoughts, she assured me, “It’s okay. I’m not some insane person who abducts children, I just want to talk to you about something.”

Not wanting to admit that I
was
thinking she might be an insane person bent on abducting me, I followed her inside.

“My name’s Jinx,” she said. “Make yourself comfortable, while I get the tea.”

Jinx disappeared into the kitchen.

The house was a Cape Cod, smaller than ours, and filled with…stuff. While I wouldn’t exactly call her a hoarder, she obviously had issues with clutter. Books and newspapers were stacked in careless towers on the coffee table. Candles in mismatched holders sat on every available flat surface, including on top of an ancient counsel television and in the windowsills. A shaggy lapdog looked up from a doggy bed perched on top of a table next to the front window. He gave me a half-hearted “Arf” before resting his chin back on his paws and nodding off. I scooted a wad of blankets over and sat down on a red, crushed velvet couch that looked like it had time traveled here from the 1970’s.

After a bit of rattling around in the kitchen, Jinx returned carrying two steaming mugs of light brown tea. I blew on mine and waited for her to say something.