Dark Calling (4 page)

Keely nods her head and
uses her back to push
away from the wall
.  “I’m fine now.  That’s so weird.  It’s the second time today I felt off.  I must be coming down with something.”

She shakes her head and moves out of reach of Bryon’s hand.  He’s her
friend
, but he’s still a guy. 
She trusts him more than anyone else, but that doesn’t mean she wants him touching her.  Bryon doesn’t know her history, but he knows she has issues.  They’re friends because he doesn’
t ask about
it.  Ever.  And he doesn’t allow anyone else to either. 

L
as
t year, Bryon’s girlfriend interrogated Keely
rep
eatedly about the
scar on her throat.  She
refused to let it go regardless of how many times Keely insisted she didn’t want to talk about
it
.

She is now Bryon’s ex-girlfriend.
  It’s things like that as to why Keely likes him so much.

“You
sure?”  Bryon asks.  He makes no attempt to touch her again.

Keely waves away the question.  “I’m good.  But we’re going to be late.”  She starts walking toward her next class.  “Where you at next period?”

“Ugh, History with
Giordano.”  He makes a face.

Keely brightens significantly.  “Me too!”  She smiles and adjusts the strap on her back pack.

“That’s cool.  You can keep me from sleeping.”  One side of his mouth pulls up and he shoots his eyebrows up and down.  Keely shakes her head and turns into the room.  Bryon picks their seats and she follows his lead. 
Dana Costas slides over a seat so she is right next to Keely.

“Hey Keely.” 

“Hi.”

Dana leans forward
looking around Keely
, her short, dark curls fall into her face
.  “Hey Bryon.”  Her voice goes sugary sweet when she says his name a
nd Keely smiles.  Bryon is
popular
with
their crowd.  He has just the right lo
ok.  He’s skinny,
but he’s toned and tall.
  His body trim and hard.
  His shaggy
black
hair is just long enough to look good, but not long enough to
get in trouble at school.  He has bright blue eyes
the same color as Keely’s favorite crayon
—cerulean.  He always wears old band tee shirts that are pretty much impossible to get now of days
and fashionably distressed
jeans.  Girls go crazy over him.  Keely is pretty sure it’s his—I don’t give a shit about anything because there is nothing in the world
worth giving
a shit about—attitude.
Plus, he
is
cute.

“What’s up, Dana?”  His eyes rake over her in a
very obvious way and
he
smiles at her as if she is the only perso
n in the room.  Dana eats it up
returning the smile. 

“Where were you this summer?  I never saw you, like,
anywhere
.”

Bryo
n shrugs, looking away as if he i
s already bored.  “I was working.  And when I wasn’t, I was with Keely.”
 

Dana looks at Keely.  She stares for several seconds.  Keely suspects that Dana is trying to decide if maybe she has competition.  She does not, of course, but Dana’s
gray
eyes narrow anyway.  “Where you working now?  Maybe I can come see you,” Dana says returning her attention to Bryon.

He turns his head lazily. 
“Laszlo’s Landsca
ping.  I’m just weekends now unti
l fall.”  Keely
tunes out the small talk as Dana ignores her and flirts with Bryon.  She rests her chin on her hand and scans the room.  Great. 
Farah
Fritz is in this class too. 
Oh
.  And Nick Wallace.

Her eyes scan again, this time for that boy
with the dark eyes
.
  Relief.  He isn’t
here. 

“Keely?  Do
you want to go?”  Dana’s
voice snaps her back to attention.

“What?  Go where?”

“I was saying there’s a
group of bands playing at Paragon
this Friday.  A few of us are going cuz Jasmine’s boyfriend’s in on
e of the bands.  Lyrical Portal
or something.  Anyway, it’s like ten bucks to watch like three or four bands.”  Dana inhales deeply.  “I mean, they’re local bands, but still.  I guess some of them are pretty good.
”

“You want to go?” Keely
asks Bryon.  He pouts his lip an
d shrugs.  Keely understands t
his
to mean
, “I
might
want to go
,
but I’m not going to say I want to g
o because
I don’t
want to
seem too eager
.”

Keely shrugs too.  “Well, as long as I can talk him into it, we’ll be there.  What time?”

“Eight,” Dana whispers as
Mr. Giordano clears his throat
apparently ready to begin.  Bryon is already ignoring him as he decorates the side of his shoe in black sharpie.  Keely stares at him until he notices her.  She mouths, “pay attention.”
  His eyes wid
en and he sticks out his tongue
letting it
flop over his bottom lip.  S
hakes his head.  Keely covers her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.  He winks at her and smiles before returning to his shoe art.
  Keely shakes her head and tries to pay attention herself.
 

The sensation of being watched causes he
r to glance around the room
again.  She stops on Farah, who is staring at her with black
eyes.  Keely gasps.  H
er eyes are wrong.  Farah lifts her hand slowly.
Points a finger at Keely. 
Smiles
coldly
before her lips form the word, “soon”
.
 

Farah blinks.  Her eyes return to
their usual pale green.  She looks confu
sed.  It lasts only a moment before s
he glares at Keely
.  It seems weak in comparison to the Farah from a few seconds ago.  Keely gazes around.  Nobody seems to have noticed the exchange.  She shivers.  Goosebumps burst across her arms and legs.  She peaks at Farah who is thoroughly ignoring her
now
.  Wonders if she imagined it.  Wonders if she is crazy.  Wonders if Dr. Evans will put her on more happy drugs.  Maybe anti-psychotic meds.  Maybe she needs them.  She shivers again.  Decides this is very likely.
  Tries to picture life in a mental hospital.  She could wear her bunny slippers.  She wouldn’t have to brush her hair anymore
.  No need for make-up
either
.  This might not be so bad.

Keely slides down in her seat.  Cro
sses her arms over her chest.  She g
lances at Bryon. 
He’
s drawn what
appear
to be two
stick figures—a girl and a boy—
on the white strip of his shoe.  She can just make out her name below an arrow p
ointing at the girl.  She frowns
.  No.  She could never go anywhere that
Bryon couldn’t.  Dr. Evans will
never know as long as
she doesn’t tell him.

Mr. Giordano is handing out their History
books.  Keely slouches forward
resting her cheek on her desk as Bryon’s row is called
to
the front of the room.  The coolness of the desk reminds her of the cold
cement floor where she lay her
cheek as she was dying.  She had died twice, actually.  She squeezes her eyes sh
ut.  Takes a deep breath.  Opening her eyes, she lifts her head and r
ests her chin on an arm.  Bryon smiles at her from his p
lace in line as he waits for the book
he will never open.  She trie
s to return the smile, but i
t’s too forced.  He scrunches his
eyebrows.  L
ooks over her head.  Features return to normal
before Keely can even blink.  He l
ooks down at his feet.

Keely twists in her seat
.  Meets Nick’s eyes
before he turns his head.  She looks back to Bryon.  He s
till finds his shoes fascinating
.  She can’t remember Bryon an
d Nick ever being friends. 
Her head hurts.  She doesn’t want to think.  Everything seems wrong today. 
Everything’s wrong because I’m going crazy
, she reminds herself.

Bryon plops down at his desk, slapping the book down loudly.  He stares at Keely, as if he has something he wants to say.  Opens his mouth.  Gets interrupted by Mr. Giordano calli
ng the next row up.  Keely joins the line.  Waits her turn.  Waits for the teacher to mark the number in her book.  As if anyone is going to steal a school History book.

Mr. Giordano gives
her the book.  It feels hot as Keely grips it in her han
d.  Her attention
is drawn
down
.  It’s a book, but not the History book she was holding a moment ago.  She flips it
around.  The cover
is a strange material.  Dry and wrinkled.  It’s a strange gray color and smells of decay.  She brings it closer to e
xamine and t
hrows it with a
yelp as she realizes it is bound in some kind of flesh
.  Several students laugh
.  There are derogatory nam
es murmured.  Keely’s face reddens with
disgust and fear.  She points at the book, but as she looks again, it is just her History book.  She looks at
Bryon to see if he’d seen it and
knows from the worried expression
on his face that he did not
.  “Sorry,” Keely says robotically.  “I saw a spider.”  She picks up her book and nearly runs back to her seat.

“A spider?  Since when are you scared of spiders?” Bryon wonders.

Keely shrugs
refusing to look at him.  “Since now.”  She can feel his eyes lingering on her.  Knows he’s scrutinizing every feature.

He lowers his voice.
  “You know you can talk to me, right?  I mean, if there was something wrong or whatever, you know I would help you.  Right?”  Keely’s eyes burn.  She can’t look at him or she’ll cry.  “Keely?”  From the corner of her eye, she sees his head turn.  She is certain he is shrugging.  She wants to tell him what’s been happening today, but she can’t find words.  She doesn’t want him to know she has finally lost it.  After holding it together all this time, she loses it now.
  Why now?  “Keely?”
  His voice is
soft;
nearly a whisper, but she can hear all the worry in it.

“I’m fine,” she says through gritted teeth. 
She’
s up and out the door as the bell rings, not waiting for B
ryon.  If he shows any more concern for her
she knows she’ll crumble.  Keely just wants to get to gym class.  She hopes they are doing something
excruciatingly physical so she can get her endorphins up and keep her mind off her craziness.

Once inside the
girl’s
locker room, she pulls her bl
ack sweat shorts and tank top
from
her back
pack
and changes.  She replaces
her shoes and pulls her hair
up in a sloppy pony tail.  Pushing
stray locks of hair out of her face
, Keely
heads for the gym. 

Everyone gathers near
the bleachers.  Keely sits on the floor and waits.  She watches Nick stride across the gym, his eyes searching over the crowd of students.  He looks to the
girls’
locker room door, then back through the students.

Coach yells for everyone to
take a knee.  She is an older woman, in her mid to late fifties.  Her hair is more salt than pepper and pulled tightly back into a perfect bun.  She’s casually dressed in a
pink polo and jeans
looking like a sweet grandmother.  B
ut looks can be deceiving. 
 

Everyone lowers themselves to the
floor.  Nick’s shoulders drop, seeming to relax
as he makes eye contact with Keely.  She squints her eyes.  Something about this is unsettling.  His mouth twitches and he looks away.  Keely thinks he’s smiling.  Of course, she’s crazy, so she’s a pretty unreliable source.

“I may be old, but I’m not old school
,” Coach says.
 
“I don’t segregate my classes.” 
She looks pointedly at a group of
girls.  “That’s too much work for
me.  I have one class.
  You will all do the same activity
as everyone else.  Nobody here is special, no matter what your mommy’s told you.”
  She clasps her fingers around the whistle hanging from her neck.  “If you can’t keep up—then get out.  I don’t care if you’re having your period.”  She pauses as several people chuckle.  “I don’t care if you and your best friend are fighting, or if your boyfriend just dumped you.  I don’t give a hoot if you are the quarter back on varsity, or the fastest sprinter in cross-country.  You will do what is on the agenda for the day.  Is that clear?”  She takes a step closer
to the class
.  Cups her hand around her ear.  “I don’t hear you.”