Evanescence (Black Rose #1) (4 page)

            "That is quite some dream," she says. "So, she was one of them?"              

I look at my painting.

"Yes."

"She looks pale. Almost like she's dead."

"That's how they all looked and had fangs. Hundreds of fangs with two of them much larger than the rest like some --"

"Vampire?" she finishes.

"Yeah. Vampire."

Such a thought of people being vampires is nonsense. They don't exist, but if that's who these people are, then why do I feel I've seen them before?

"So you know vampires?" she chuckles. I smile.

"Maybe or at least they know me."

I should be afraid of that.

"Want to look at my project?" She asks. "Not as good as yours nor anything from a dream, but I'm sure you can still relate."
            "Sure."

I scoot closer as she makes room. I look at her painting and see strokes of green, blue, and gray.
            "It's Utica," she says. "See? The Mohawk River, downtown, bike trails in the Valley, the school, houses, everything. It's all here."
            "I thought I was the only one who loves it here," I say.

"Nope. I love it here too. Utica is beautiful."             

"Not as beautiful as you."

My heart flat lines and the world stands still.
Why did I say that?
I facepalm myself and my throat feels like I swallowed a jawbreaker. She stares at me speechless. Her eyes trail away and she gasps.

"Essence, I--I'm sorry, what I meant was-- I really like your painting."
            "Um, thanks," she says with a weak smile. She turns back to her painting and prepares some of her brushes. 
Nice job, Evan. Nailed it
. I can't leave everything hovering above us like this. I have to learn to control myself around her, but now, she probably wishes there was another seat in the classroom I can sit.
              “So um, Essence--"

She turns back to me and I almost regret continuing a conversation.

"What do you like to do?"
           "I play violin. Religiously," she chuckles.

"Really?” I say excited. “I play piano."

“Seriously?” she smiles.

“Yes. But I’ve always wanted to learn how to play another instrument. Violin would be amazing.”

"I'm sure I can teach you a thing or two. Maybe you show me piano?"

"I'm pretty sure I'll be terrible at learning violin though."

“I doubt that,” she says. “With playing piano you must be coordinated already to play an instrument. I bet you’re good with your hands.”

I blush and sink a bit in the stool.

            "Well, I should probably finish this," she says. "A few more touches and I'll be done. Can you pass me some of that red?" She asks.

I look at the paint case that rests on our work station. I open the case and pull the red paint cup from its holder. I turn back to Essence to give her the paint cup and it fumbles in my hands.

"Careful!" Essence says, but it was too late. The paint spills on my hands and onto the floor.

"I'm sorry, I--" I begin to say, but then my ears begin to ring.

            "Evan?" I hear her say distorted, but I cannot respond.

I look at her, and she calls again, however no sound leaves her mouth. I look at my hands and the paint looks like blood. My heart begins to race, my stomach cries with an unexplainable hunger, and my mouth salivates.
What is happening?

A smell meets my nose. A metallic or copper-like smell. What I would imagine blood to smell like yet oddly appeasing. I begin to lick my fingers and my hunger intensifies.

           "Evan? What are you doing?" Essence says.

I stop and look around the room. Everyone stares.

I smell paint and taste it in my mouth. Bile builds in my throat.
           "Evan?" Essence says once more.

"I have to go."

I rise from my stool and hurry out of the classroom. I don't know what should I worry about more. The fact that I ate paint or the fact that if it really was blood, I liked it.

I hurry down the hallway to the bathroom. My walk soon turns into a light jog, and the air becomes as suffocating as black smoke. The hunger returns. That unfamiliar hunger. Not for fruit. Not for vegetables. Not even for meat.

A crunching sound pains my head and agony leaves my mouth. I grab onto my head and fall against a locker door. It crumbles like a piece of balled up paper. I drop to my knees and try to fight this painful throbbing, but it only intensifies. I crawl on the floor, one hand on my head and the other feeling for the bathroom door. When salvation meets my hand, I fall into the bathroom trying to catch my breath. All that remains is a migraine.

A student hurries past to leave as I struggle to pull myself up using the white marble sink. I take off my glasses, place them on the sink, and turn on the faucet to drown my hands with soap and water. I watch as the red paint sloths off of my hands and swims down the drain. When the paint is gone, so is the migraine. I splash water onto my face, dry it with a paper towel, and look into the mirror. I stumble back as a horror reaps within me. My eyes are black coated, then a dim red bleeds around my pupils like the people in my dream.

"What's wrong with me?" I ask. I step closer to the mirror staring into my eyes. They glow and my eyesight appears to be perfect without my glasses. I then hear a heartbeat and listen. It begins to slow. Then stops. I place my hand onto my chest. Nothing, and my skin is as cold as ice. I feel around desperately for my heartbeat. Still, nothing.

"This isn't happening to me," I say. However, I don’t even know what
is
happening. I close my eyes, place my hands on my head, and pace.

"I'm dreaming. This is all just a dream. My mother will wake me up soon and all of this will be nothing, but another dream."

I stop pacing and take a deep breath before looking in the mirror. Brown eyes and blurry vision. I exhale and relax over the sink. I pray I am okay now. I grab my glasses, put them back on, and head back to class. When I walk into the classroom, everyone is gone. I had not noticed how much time I must have spent in the bathroom, but I'm sure Ms. Brooks is going to let me know.

"Evan?" She says rising from her desk.

            "Ms. Brooks, I apologize. It was an emergency and won't happen again," I promise.
            She studies me for a moment before nodding. 
            "Everything alright? Never seen you like this before, Evan," she says.
            I nod.

"I hope so."
            "Well, I accept your apology. You should hurry. Next class already started a few minutes ago. I'll make you a pass," she assures.
            I grab my books, meet her at the door, and she hands me a late pass.
            "Thank you."
            She smiles softly.

"You're lucky you're my best student," she smiles. "Now go. Hurry along and feel better."

"I will," I say.

                                        
 
~

            I was in autopilot the rest of the school day. I could not focus in any of my other classes and cannot piece together what's wrong with me. What happened earlier with Cedric had been similar, but slightly different from what happened to me in Painting class. What I hate most is the impression I left on Essence. Did I scare her away? Will she ever speak to me again? I mean, would I if I was in her shoes? I shake my head. I have to apologize. I have to make it clear to her that I obviously wasn't myself. I don't want her to think I'm weird especially after eating paint in front of her.

The final bell rings and I am at my locker before most. I know if there is chance to apologize it'd be now. I'll wait until I see her go to her locker, approach her hoping I won't choke on my words again, and ask to start over. My apology cannot wait until tomorrow. It
must
be today.
            "Evan!" Mike yells from the wave of people that start to fill the hallway. He has the biggest grin on his face. What is he up to now?
            "What are you smiling about?" I ask him.

            "Hmmm, let's see, I have Bianca's number 
and
 we have a date on Friday," he says.

            "How'd you manage to do that?" I ask. 
            "I honestly winged it," he laughs. "I just talked about the party, asked about herself, school, etcetera, etcetera, and then I just -- asked." 

            "Nice," I clock around the hallway. No sign of her yet.
            "And what about you? You make a move on Essence?" He asks.
            "Yeah, I did, but it didn't go as well as you and Bianca. Kind of had a moment in class." 
            "What you mean?"

"Well, everything was going great. We were talking about our projects then when all that paint got on me, I blacked out and did some -- weird things. Think I scared her away." 
            Mike shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, Ev. Did you apologize? What'd she say?"
            "That's why I'm waiting for her now. She put herself into a shell and then I ended up getting out of my chair and went to the bathroom. When I got back, class was already over.”

"If you plan on apologizing to Essence, Evan, I think you should really hurry like right now right now," he says looking down the hallway.
              "What you mean?" I ask not following.
              "Essence LaRoux has left the building!" He says in an announcer tone.
              "What?"

I turn to the exit doors and see her walking out with her belongings. Without hesitation I start for the exit doors zig zagging through people. I toss and turn through the constant rush then push the doors open. I run down the steps and I look around. She's gone and that only meant the worst has happened. My apology would have to wait until tomorrow, far from today.
              My bike is not far from where I stand. I unlock it and shake it at the thought of a missed opportunity. I exhale the tension, pull my bike from the cage, and start to make my way home. As I pass the sea of people, Cedric is nearby. He watches with a maniacal grin until I am off campus.
 

The bike ride home is long. I'm not thinking about Utica and its beauty. I'm not thinking about the Mohawk River Valley, its trees, nor its smell of fresh mint and pine that blows across my face as I pedal. All I can think about is what happened in school and Essence. What does she think of me? That I'm some weird, paint eating creep? Clearly I have been correct all along. I really do have nothing to offer her.            

When I get home, the car is in the driveway.  I put my bike in the garage and go into the house. To my surprise, my mother isn't resting in bed from driving all day. Instead, she is still in her work clothes moving about the house. 
            "Hey, sweetie," she kisses my cheek.             
            "Hey, mom," I reply and meet her in the kitchen. I take a seat at the island, place my bag on top, and exhale. 

"How was school today?" She asks as she studies me. "What's wrong?”                                                                                    "I just had a rough day." 
          "Well, did you get a chance to write down the              dream? You've had it so many times already, Evan I think --"

            "YES, I wrote down the dream, mom, and I'm really not trying to think about that right now."

"I think you should."

"Well I don't."

"I'm just saying--" she raises her hands in defense.

"Stop! Just stop! You can really be inconsiderate sometimes. You don't know what I've been through today."

"Then talk to me."

"No. How about I just go write about it in my notebook?" 
          I rise from the stool and my legs give. I barely catch myself before my face smacks the floor.

"Evan!" She hurries over.

I struggle to prop myself against the island. My ears begin to ring again and I cup my hands to my ears to block the noise. It doesn't work. I then see flashes of red around me. Blood. I shut my eyes tight and feel my mother's hands firmly grasp my wrists pulling me. I fight back keeping my eyes closed and my hands to my head.

"Evan! Evan!" she yells.

I stop fighting and open my eyes slowly. I catch my breath and she brings me to her chest wrapping her

arms round me. It just keeps happening. My mother holds me out in front of her.                                      

"Are you alright, Evan? You scared me half to death."
 

I nod. "I--I'll be okay. Really."

I look up to her face and can tell she knows I am unsure.

"Mom don't look at me like that." I look away.

"Like what Evan? Like what?" She starts to get upset with crack and cry in her voice.            

"I'm scared for you."

"Are you sure not
of
me?“

I watch as a tear sits upon her eyelash. 

"You pushed me away earlier," I mumble.

"Evan, what are you talking about?"

"I tell you to accept me for who I am and I had to practically call out your name to get you to answer."

"Evan, you know I accept you for who you are. Of all people I accept you," she says cupping her hands on her heart.
                         "I'm just worried about you," she says. "You're...changing." 
                         "You don't have anything to worry about. I promise. I'm okay."  
 

                         "You can't tell a mother not to worry about her child," she says shaking her head.
                         I sit quiet. Even I am unsure about what I just said. I can hope this will pass over with time. I refuse to see a doctor. I hate being examined. Makes me feel like some experiment.
                        "I'm sorry. I love you," I say and hug her tight.                                    

"I love you too," she says hugging back. She places her hands on my shoulders and holds me in front of her. Then cups my face with her hands. Her scar creases within her smile.
                        "You're growing up. I can understand that," she nods.

She wipes her tears and finds a smile over her blushed face and looks into my eyes as though she had an epiphany. Her face is frozen again like this morning.

"I knew the day would come."

We sit quiet for a moment before she begins to stand.
          "Well, I have to go, " she says returning back to earth, "But I'll be right back. I have to make a stop by the cliffs in the Valley. They've been sending me all over the place lately. We need more drivers. Maybe you can work."

          "No thanks, mom," I smile and stand. "I'll pass."

"Okay," she laughs and caresses my cheek. "I'll be back." She brings my forehead to her lips and kisses before she leaves.

Today has become one of many days that I would go into the rainforest and meditate over the many things haunting me: my nightmares, the altercation with Cedric, the bad impression left on Essence, arguing with my mother, and these on and off periods of mental breakdowns. As much as I disagree with my mom at times, she may be right about something. I am changing. But not changing how I would imagine puberty to be. This is something different. It feels like there's something inside of me that won't let me be 
me
. I don't like it.           

I grab my backpack from the island. I run up to my room, kick off my shoes, and step into my running sneakers. When I go into the bathroom, I feel like cringing thinking about earlier at school. I throw water on my face. Do I dare take a look into the mirror? My curiosity wins and I take a glance. I sigh of relief. I am okay.             

I head back downstairs and open the back door. I look out to the rainforest of the Mohawk River Valley and

step outside. The gray sky rumbles of thunder, and I can smell rain in the air. Right on time.