Dark Friends (18 page)

              “I'm not hallucinating anything. I just happen to have friends that no one else has ever met, there's no big mystery going on here”

              “Excellent, I was scared that you were imagining people who didn't exist. But you say they do, so good.” he smiled broadly.

              “Aren't doctor supposed to be serious, professional?”

              “Who told you that?” he asked.

              And so Amelia's psychiatry session went. Amelia was combative and sarcastic and the doctor was the same. He let her dictate the topic of conversation, the degree of seriousness and the relevancy to her own life. Amelia prattled on about school, her friends and parents. When asked about Lisson, she was evasive, only hinting at what might have gone on there. Dr. Ailez had used this therapy technique invented by Freud many times; Free association.

              He let her talk about anything and everything, with no direction or purpose. He engaged her, encouraged her babbling, but behind his relaxed demeanor was a mind hard at work. His sharp insight was like an invisible laser, beaming from behind his friendly smile, intensely analyzing Amelia's every word, every behavior. He watched the way she looked up when discussing her imaginary friends, the same way a bad liar does when they are trying to think of something to say, like the answer is floating in the air above them. When she discussed her younger years, her eyes were downcast, revealing her shame. When discussing her parents, she tapped her hands on the armrest of the couch; this probably meant they were an after-thought, an area of life to be addressed but not prioritized. Though her tells were subtle, the doctor was the best in the world.

              After her session, Dr. Ailez thanked Amelia for her time, and informed her parents that he would call them at a later date with his assessment, or at least for a follow-up appointment. Steven and Catina left the office with Amelia in tow, looking soul-fatigued.

              “How was it?” Catina asked gently.

              “Weird. He let me talk about whatever I wanted to. He didn't seem very interested in specificities. I think you guys chose a quack.”

              “Maybe so” Steven said, knowing full well how the Dr. had manipulated Amelia into revealing more than she realized.

                                               * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

             
They were at the park when she walked up. They looked angry, violent. Nelson spoke first.

              “Amelia, we need a map of the school, to know where the charges go.”

              “What?”

              “We're blowing up the school. The adults have held us back long enough. They are slow, inefficient and superfluous. We must act.” Lisa said, materializing.

              “I don't have a map.”

              “Use that big, beautiful brain of yours” Elbert said throatily, sidling up next to Amelia, leaning into her ear.

             
“OK” She breathed back, unable to resist his charm.

              They crowded around her, listening to Amelia describe the school in detail, the best places for the bombs and the prime opportunities to plant and detonate them. She kept talking, the students and teachers she disliked, the ugly artwork by the vending machines, the special needs wing on the second floor. They listened, rapt.  Amelia knew everything, and she would help them. They would destroy the school, set the teenagers free, free to live how they wanted, free to be themselves. Elbert, Nelson, Lisa and Jennie watched her intently, taking notes. After a time, they told she had to go. Their grand plan would be executed the following day, with her help. They would meet behind the bleachers before lunch to finalize the plans' logistics.

                                                
Chapter Thirty-Three

             
Amelia was eating breakfast, her mind curiously blank. She felt like she had seen her friends the previous day, but she couldn't recollect what they had done. They were at the park, they were talking...

              “Time for school sweetheart” Catina smiled, handing Amelia a twenty dollar and her backpack, “Have a blast.”

              “Thanks...Mom” Amelia said, not really sure why. Catina's eyes started to tear up and she jerked her face away from Amelia, reaching for a tissue. Amelia had never called her 'Mom' before. Amelia pretended not to notice Catina's tears, and she felt a pang of guilt for constantly mistreating her. She got up and walked out the front door awkwardly.

              The school bus was as rowdy and chaotic as it had ever been, though Amelia barely noticed. Amelia felt detached, indifferent. The annoyance was gone. The impatience, the sense of urgency, were no longer there. Amelia felt like she was outside of her body, watching everything from a higher vantage point, wondering what would happen.

              At school, there were no individuals. There were no cliques, no races, no teachers or upper class-men. Amelia only saw blurs of faces, the groups of people becoming formless gray masses. She couldn't hear anything distinctly, just a dull background noise of talking and yelling, like she was listening to a loud party at the bottom of a swimming pool. She attended her first three classes with glassy, unseeing eyes. She barely heard a word the teacher said. No one talked to her. When the time for lunch came, she suddenly
got it
. They were going to blow up the school. She needed to stop them. Wild-eyed, Amelia turned on her heel and sprinted over to the school's athletic wing, towards the bleachers. Her wild dash caused a few students to turn their head, wondering what had happened to the pale -skinned, weird girl. When she got there, they were already gone, off to plant the bombs.

              Azel Meyer had been on the job for three months. Every day he watched them go to class, heard the bell ring, then saw them swarm the halls, only to go back to class. They never looked at him, unless it was with something bordering on pity and disgust. At twenty seven, Azel had dropped out of college and taken on a high school security job for the money. The boys looked at him with typical high-schooler arrogance, confident in their abilities to kick his ass. The girls treated him with a mild neglect, like only the worst among them would ever consider dating him. The teachers didn't notice him, sure that he would be useless in a conflict. In short, Azel put on a cheap uniform and even cheaper tool-belt everyday to be treated with scorn and given a pitifully small paycheck. Azel heard the bell ring that indicated the first lunch period was beginning, then he saw the skinny, pale girl sprinting towards the athletic wing of the school. Screw lunch duty, Azel thought, what is
she
doing?

              They must have gone on without her, intent to place the charges themselves. Amelia remembered the best place that she had told them was the staircase in the middle of the school, on the first floor. Instead of going back inside, she circled the outside of the school, running. Behind her, Azel followed, his pulse racing.

              They were not there yet. Where could they have gone? Amelia wondered if they were still gathering their materials somewhere, or perhaps they were starting in the art wing, near the eastern supporting structures? Without hesitation, Amelia took off at a sprint, ready to save the school. Azel watched her move frantically, unpredictably. A few teachers noticed the girl as well, dashing through the halls, with the inexperienced security guard hot on her trail. With a healthy sense of concern and even stronger sense of curiosity, some teachers began to follow.

              They were not in the art wing. Amelia's mind was racing. Where the hell were they? Had she been set up? She turned to leave, ready to search the entire school, top to bottom, when she ran into Azel.

              “Whoa, whoa...Can I help you ma'am?” Azel held up his hands in the universal gesture for 'Stop'.

              “No, move!” Amelia tried to bull past him. But Azel was a grown man, and he held his ground. “They're going to blow up the school!”

              “Who?” Azel's heart felt like it dropped in his chest, landing in the pit of his stomach.

              “Elbert, Nelson...We don't have time for this!” she shouted again. Tke mad look in her eyes was contagious, almost convincing. Azel felt a sense of dread, like the walls would come crashing down at anytime.

              “Look, who's gonna blow up the school?” he tried to sound calm.

              “What's going on here?” a male teacher in his latter years came out of his art class.

              “We're sorry sir. This girl...”

              “Amelia” she snapped, upset at being delayed, but powerless to get around the guard.

              “Yea, Amelia thinks someone is going to blow up the school”

              “Oh my God...I'm calling the cops” he whipped out his cell phone and dialed three numbers. His conversation with the dispatcher distracted Azel, giving Amelia her chance. She ran.

              “Hey, stop!” Azel yelled, bounding towards Amelia. He saw her up ahead, going right towards a small group of staff. She turned down a side hall and burst out of an emergency exit. Azel ignored the questions of the teachers as he followed her.

              They were all going to die! She could only save herself. Amelia sprinted through the parking lot, dodging cars and people. Then she saw the sirens, two cop cars, blocking the exits. She gave up, collapsed to her knees, and cried. She hugged her legs to her body and gently knocked her head against the concrete. When Azel reached her, he was uncertain of what to do. He stood over her awkwardly, ready to grab her if she bolted again. A uniform approached them.

              “Ma'am? Ma'am!” the old cop yelled.

              “For God's sakes...” a middle aged female officer approached, “get up sweetheart, stop hitting your head...That's right, get up. We're gonna take care of you” she acted as a crutch for Amelia, leading her to the back of her cruiser. Azel's nightmare was over, and strangely, it was the best he had felt since starting his job. After giving his report to the officers, he walked back to the school with a swagger in his step; a hero.

                                                
Chapter Thirty-Four
             

              Steve and Catina met her at the station. They tried to explain that she was mentally ill, that she was getting psychotherapy and was not a domestic terrorist, intent on Jihad. They pleaded and begged for her to be released into their custody. She did not need to stay a night in jail. She had not committed any crimes, they argued, except maybe disturbing the peace. The officers didn't care. They had limited resources, they had homicides and robberies to deal with, not emotionally distraught teenage girls whose delirium had created a media circus at the local high school. Classes were canceled, parents showed up and took their kids home, there must be some punishment, the officers said, some retribution. Teary-eyed, Catina pulled out the only trick left in her sleeve; she phoned Dr. Ailez.

              He arrived an hour later. The doctor ignored the McCree's and the beat cops, walking right into the chief's office. After ten minutes, he re-emerged, with a tired smile on his face, like he had won the war, but it hadn't come cheaply. Dr. Ailez would be accepting the chief's disturbed daughter as a referral.

              “Amelia will be taken to Westward Psychiatric Facility. She will be there under my authority as her doctor and her freedom will be at my discretion” he offered.

              “No. She has committed no crimes, you can't lock her up” Catina said.

              “The alternative is that I file a petition with the Chief Justice. There will be an expensive, lengthy legal battle while Amelia's mind continues to deteriorate. Ms. McCree, your daughter's health is my priority, not her freedom. She desperately needs treatment, not the freedom to have another incident like today. You know I'm right” he said plainly, offering neither hope nor condemnation. Only reality. He watched Catina's shoulders sag away from her ears, her forehead wrinkles smoothed out, her fists unclenched. Catina essentially deflated, leaving only Steve.

              “What are the conditions at the psych hospital?” he asked.

              “You know as well as I do. Locked unit, monitored meals. Everything in her world will be censored and filtered, giving us an opportunity to isolate her triggers. She will have sessions with me at least three times a week. She may continue her education, of course” the Dr. said, speaking to Steven not as the parent of a sick girl, but as doctor to doctor. Steven knew he was right. His instinctual protectiveness subsided.

              “Where do we sign up?”

                                                     
Chapter Thirty-Five

              “Amelia, how are you feeling today?” his voice was soothing, hypnotic.

              “Fine” she mumbled, “but is this really necessary?” She was referring to the strait-jacket that Dr. Ailez had ordered. She lay on the firm sofa in his office at the hospital, unable to get comfortable. She knew hundreds, if not thousands of people had sat where she sat now; psychos, schizo's and all around nut cases. She was not honored to join their ranks.