Evergreen (Mer Tales, Book 2) (6 page)

:::

FIN

Thursday evening, April 14
^th

I hung up the phone in defeat. After the way Ash’s mom sounded, I doubted she’d be calling back tonight. With my palm pressed into my forehead, I willed away my headache. Every time I moved, my brain rattled against my skull as a reminder of poisons from the bog we’d stayed in last night. All I wanted to do was return to Lake Tahoe, not only to see Ash, but to breathe in fresh snowy water, a vintage like none other.

:::

ASH

Thursday evening, April 14
^th

Anger infused Mom’s eyes as she stood in the foyer. “Where were you today?”

I hesitated. Did she mean just now? Or earlier? “School.”

“Don’t play games with me, Ash. You weren’t at school. Where were you?”

I stood speechless. “I was, too, all day!”

“You said you weren’t feeling well earlier. Did you cut?”

“No, I didn’t cut.” Although I’d wanted to. My body shook in fury because she didn’t believe me. I tried to backtrack and remember if I had some sort of proof I’d actually been there. “Who says I cut? A teacher?”

“The record clerk called and said you didn’t come back after lunch and your hair isn’t wet.”

“During fourth I took a make-up quiz in the teacher’s lounge, which made me late for fifth, and sixth was my meeting with the school counselor, but Mr. Branson knew. I even have a note you need to sign from Mrs. Harlow.”

Mom’s glare remained on her face. “What note?”

I bent down to rummage through my bag. “Practice was canceled today and here are the papers you need to sign.”

Before I could give them to her, something pinched the side of my calf. I looked down as blood gushed from my leg onto my sock.

“Ash, you’re bleeding.” As Mom came closer to investigate and moved the bag away, a triangular hint of silver protruded through the canvas.

“What’s this?” She rummaged through the bag and pulled out a knife.

My head swam as my heart jumped around in my chest. I couldn’t answer.

“William! Come here!”

Terror flooded me as Dad rounded the corner and caught sight of the knife Mom held and then my leg.

“You’re bleeding!” He used the dishrag he held to stop the blood flow. “How did this happen?”

Mom pinched the knife by the hilt like it was poison. “This was in her bag and the school reported she ditched class today.”

“I didn’t ditch,” I said defensively. “And I can explain the knife.”
Maybe.

Dad applied pressure to the wound. I tried to pull away, wincing in pain. “Let me,” he said, gripping my calf gently. Once the bleeding stopped, he helped me limp to the couch. “Why are you carrying a knife?”

I looked down, unsure what to say.

“Does this have anything to do with the boat? With—” Mom stopped and brought her hand to her mouth. Tears glinted in her eyes. She swayed a moment, then sat down, gripping the edge of the cushions.

The situation went from bad to worse. I knew what she’d guessed—that I’d tried to drown myself on the lake on purpose and since that didn’t end my miserable existence, I was going to do something drastic. I wanted to stop the train I knew was racing through her head before it wrecked, but I couldn’t explain the knife. Lucy’s head peaked out from behind the wall by the stairs; she smirked.

“I don’t want Lucy here.” I pointed my finger revealing her hiding spot.

Mom looked up and wiped away a tear. “Why? She loves you. We all do.” Mom’s voice waffled. “If you’re struggling with something, you can tell us, or talk to Dr. Whistle again.”

You mean Dr. Weasel?
I shook my head and pursed my lips as Lucy continued to gawk.

“Lucy, go to your room please,” Dad called out.

She groaned and within a few seconds, her door slammed. Dad investigated to make sure she’d left for sure, then returned and gripped Mom’s knee. “Ash, tell us what’s going on. Are you missing Fin? We won’t judge you, whatever it is. We love you.”

I cringed, appalled I had to defend my sanity to my parents. “I’m not trying to kill myself. I only borrowed the knife for—”

My brain continued to freeze. I couldn’t think of an excuse beyond wanting to wound Azor so he’d bleed to death and morph into a human permanently.

“Is someone threatening you?” Dad’s voice sounded harder than usual.

Sort of.
“No.”

I looked down at the dried blood on my skin and at the Band-Aid ring wrapped around my finger—covering my secret. More than anything, I wanted to come clean. To tell them I loved Fin with all my heart. That I wanted to be with him now and forever. That we were engaged. That he made me happy and without him, and only without him, did I want to die. But that would definitely grant me time on Weasel’s couch. How could they even begin to understand the pressures I faced, the actress I’ve been day in and day out? That at any moment I was on the verge of snapping, so much so I was contemplating stabbing someone.

Then the perfect excuse came to mind—one to set me free.

“I used it to carve our initials on a tree,” I said plainly.

Mom and Dad’s eyebrows creased before a collective sigh filled the room.

“Why didn’t you just say so?” Dad asked as he laced Mom’s fingers with his.

“I don’t know.” I gulped again. “It’s silly.”

Mom’s face softened, then she smiled. “Did I tell you your dad and I have our initials on a tree in Napa.”

They looked lovingly at one another, almost as if they’d forgotten that their wayward daughter, injured and bleeding, sat awaiting her punishment or release. Thank God I thought of an answer.

But even though their fears were alleviated, Fin’s was not. He only had a few minutes of sunlight before I could explain why I’d hung up so quickly.

“Can I go?”

“Yes… Of course.” Mom rose from the couch and wrapped the knife in the bloodied towel. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

Dad stood up with her and stayed an extra second. He hugged me.

“Ash. We really do mean it when we say we love you. You know that?”

“Yeah, of course, Dad,” I smiled weakly. “I wasn’t trying to scare anyone.”

“Okay.” He pulled away and smiled, distrust still hanging out behind his eyes.

I darted around him and took the stairs by twos. But somewhere in the middle of the ascent, pain from nowhere wracked my chest and then disappeared, like an elephant had jumped on me. The overwhelming crushing dread that I’d never see Fin again, that I lived with daily, had evaporated. More normal feelings of our separation remained, like I could wait a few weeks to see him and survive.

I started to hyperventilate. Something was wrong. Fin was in trouble. I dialed my phone. Every call rolled over to voice mail.

“No.” I crumpled onto a step and my wound broke open. Blood began to trickle down my leg once more.

:::

The rest of the night all my calls to Fin rolled over to voicemail and besides a short sweet email I’d received from him earlier, I didn’t hear anything further. I wanted to remain hopeful and believe nothing physically had happened to him, but my heart felt hollow and numb. Even my promise mark seemed extra dim in the shower the next morning.

I yawned again as Mr. Branson droned on about the Nazi’s in France. I couldn’t listen. I could barely function.

“Ms. Lanski,” Mr. Branson said. “And when did the French police arrest the Jews in the Vel’ d’Hiv Roundup?”

I froze. “Ummm.” This was the first I’d heard of the Vel’ d’Hiv Roundup.

“I assure you the answers are not laying in your lap.” He gripped the edge of his podium. “Please, Mr. Davis, will you help Ms. Lanski with the answer?”

“July 1942.”

“That’s correct.” He took a deep annoyed breath. “People, if you don’t take the time to learn your history, you may end up being carted off to a concentration camp for your race or religion. Do you want that?”

My cheeks ignited as Jeremy reveled in giving the right answer. Mr. Branson gave me a look before continuing. I cared, especially where the Holocaust was concerned, but dates didn’t make one a scholar on the subject. Details were the most important piece and that was why Mr. Branson was the teacher—to teach me.

My phone buzzed to life and Fin’s name blazoned on the receiver. I squeaked, unable to control myself. My hand flew in the air.

“Mr. Branson, I have to use the restroom. Now.”

He shot me a glare. “We’ve only a few more minutes of class.”

As the phone silently rang and tugged at my heartstrings, I contemplated using the most embarrassing excuse in the world. “This can’t wait!”

The entire class seemed to turn in unison and gawk as Mr. Branson’s eyebrows furled. “Fine, but leave your phone on my desk.”

I gulped and didn’t move. If I stayed, I’d be a liar and later, a laughing stock. But my phone? He’d threatened if he caught texters in class he’d keep the phone ‘til the end of the year. But he couldn’t, could he? I didn’t actually get a text.

“I thought you needed to go, Ms. Lanski.”

“I—I do.” I stood and silenced the last ring by pressing OFF. I mustered all of my courage and left the phone on his desk. Hot bolts of lightening zapped through me, ones that wanted me to steal the phone and run through the door, never to return. I could have when Mr. Branson continued with his lecture, but I didn’t.

I exited the classroom for the bathroom, afraid I might actually get sick in the hall. Alone, I gripped the sink and stared at my reflection. Grey smudges lined my eyes. I plunged my ring finger under the running water while removing the bandage. Sparkles of light made rainbows on the wall of the bathroom. Fin must have been okay. I had to take hope in that.

Within minutes, the bell rang and I went back to Mr. Branson’s classroom. The phone had disappeared.

“Ms. Lanski, nice of you to return.”

“I need my phone.”

“You know my rules about cellphone use in class.”

I squinted. “I’m sorry. I was expecting an important call—about a friend who’s in the hospital.”

“Well, then. You have a serious decision to make.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you want your phone now, you’ll have to serve detention with me next week in which you’ll write a five-page paper on someone in history who lied and the consequences of such.”

I clenched my jaw. “But I didn’t lie and I have swim practice.”

“Then, I surmise you’ll be missing it.”

“Or?”

“Or you can come back after class and I’ll have a note I want your parents to sign about what happened today.”

I cringed. That’s all I needed was another reason for my mother to ground me.

“This is so unfair.”

“Unfair? You interrupt my class and complain my consequences are unfair? If this phone call is so dire, go to the office and ask to use the phone—or use the payphone.”

I exhaled hard and stared at my phone trapped in his hands. I couldn’t miss practice if I wanted to do well in the meet, but the note would mean I’d end up being grounded from my phone, no less.

“I guess I’ll come after class.” I looked down.

“In my day, Ms. Lanski, we didn’t have such devices. Use the privilege wisely.”

“Yeah,” I said under my breath as I turned away and shut the door, “I’m trying.”