Fade (5 page)

chair, blinded, her mind whirling into Stacey O"Grady"s dream. Janie

recognizes it—Stacey was in Janie"s study hall last semester too, and

had this same nightmare a few months ago.

ı

Janie is in Stacey"s car, and Stacey is driving like a maniac down a dark

street near the woods. From the backseat, a growl, and then a man

appears and grabs Stacey around the neck from behind. Stacey"s choking.

She loses control of the car, and it careens over a ditch, smashes into a

line of bushes, and flips over.

The man is shaken loose of his grasp, and when the car comes to rest in

a parking lot, Stacey, bleeding, climbs out of the car through the broken

windshield and starts running. He gets out and follows her. It"s a mad

chase, and Janie is swept into it. She can"t concentrate hard enough to

get Stacey"s attention, and Stacey is screaming at the top of her lungs.

Around and around the parking lot, the man chases her, until she runs for

the woods…

…trips

…falls

…and he is on top of her, pinning her down, growling, like a dog, in her

face—

2:50 p.m.

Janie feels her muscles still twitching three minutes after it"s over. She

didn"t hear the bell ring, but Stacey did, apparently, because the dream

stopped abruptly.

Janie still can"t feel anything. She can"t see. But she can hear Cabel next

to her. “It"s okay, baby,” he whispers. “It"s gonna be okay.”

2:57 p.m.

Cabel"s gently rubbing her fingers. He"s still whispering, letting her know no one is around, they"ve all left, and it"s all going to be okay.

She sits up slowly.

Squeezes her hands till they ache with pain and pleasure. Wiggles her

toes. Her face feels like she"s been to the dentist for a filling. He"s rubbing her shoulders, her arms, her temples. She stops shaking.

Tries to speak. It comes out like a hiss.

3:01 p.m.

“Cabel,” she finally says.

“You ready to try to move?” His voice is concerned. She shakes her head slowly. Turns toward him. Reaches out. “I can"t see

yet,” she says quietly. “How long has it been?”

Cabel moves his hands over her shoulders and back down to her fingers.

“Not that long,” he says softly. “A few minutes.”
More like twelve.

“That was a bad one.”

“Yeah. Did you try to pull out of it?”

Janie rests her forehead on the heel of her hand and rolls her head slowly,

side to side. Her voice is weak. “I didn"t try to get out. I tried to help her

change it. Couldn"t get her to pay any attention to me.”

Cabel paces.

They wait.

Slowly Janie can make out shapes. The world fades back in.

“Phew,” she

says. Smiles shakily.

“I"m driving you home,” Cabel says as the janitor comes into the library,

eyeing them suspiciously. Cabel shoves Janie"s books into her backpack,

a grim look on his face. He searches around in the pack and comes up

empty-handed. “Don"t you carry anything with you? I"m out of PowerBars.”

“Um…” Janie bites her lip. “I"m okay now. I"ll be fine. I can drive.”

He scowls. Doesn"t respond. Helps her stand up, slings her backpack

over his shoulder, and they walk out to the parking lot. It"s lightly snowing.

He opens the passenger-side door of his car and looks at her, his jaw set.

Patient.

Waiting.

Until she gets in.

He drives in silence through the snow to a nearby mini-mart, goes in,

and returns with pint of milk and a plastic bag. “Open your backpack,”

he says.

She does it.

He pours half a dozen PowerBars into it. Opens a bar and hands it to her

with the milk. “I"ll get your car later,” he says, holding his hand out for

her keys. She looks down. Then hands them over.

He drives her to her house.

Stares at the steering wheel, his jaw set.

Waits for her to get out.

She glances at him, a puzzled expression on her face. “Oh,” she says

finally. She swallows the lump in her throat. Takes her backpack and the

milk and gets out of the car. Closes the door. Goes up the steps and kicks

the snow off her shoes. Not looking back.

He pulls out of the driveway slowly, making sure Janie gets inside okay.

And drives away.

ı

Janie goes to bed, confused and sad, and takes a nap. 8:36 p.m.

She"s awake. Starving. Looks around the house for something healthy

and finds a tomato, growing soft in the refrigerator. There"s a tuft of

mold on the stem. She sighs. There"s nothing else. She shrugs on her

coat and slips on her boots, grabs fifty dollars from the grocery envelope,

and starts walking.

The snow is beautiful. Flakes so tiny they sparkle, sequins in the oncoming headlights and under street lamps. It"s cold, maybe twenty

degrees out. Janie slips on her mittens and secures her coat at her throat.

Glad she wore boots.

When she reaches the grocery store a mile away, it"s quiet inside. A few

shoppers stroll to the Muzak piping from the speakers. The store is

bright with yellowy light, and Janie squints as she enters. She grabs a

cart and heads to the produce section, shaking the snowflakes from her

hair as she walks. She loosens her coat and tucks her mittens in her

pockets.

Shopping, once Janie actually gets there, is relaxing to her. She takes her

time, reading labels, thinking about things that seem like they might

taste good together, picking out the best vegetables, mentally calculating

the total cost as she goes along. It"s like therapy. By the time she"s spent

her approximate allotment, she slips through the baking aisle to get to

the checkout. As she meanders, looking at the different kinds of oils and

spices, she slows her cart.

Glances to the left.

Recalculates what"s in her cart.

And hesitantly picks out a red box and a small round container. Puts

them in the cart next to the eggs and milk.

She wheels to the front of the store and stands in a short line at the one

lonely check-out counter. Janie glances at the periodicals while she waits.

Rides through a wave of hunger nausea. Loads her things onto the belt

and watches the scanner anxiously as the number creeps upward.

“Your total comes to fifty-two twelve.”

Janie closes her eyes for a moment. “I"m sorry,” she says. “I have exactly fifty dollars. I need to put something back.”

The checker sighs. The line behind Janie grows. She flushes and doesn"t

look at any of them. Decides what"s necessary.

Hesitantly picks out the cake mix and the frosting. Hands them to the checker. “Take these off, please,” she says quietly.
It

figures
, she thinks.

The checker makes like this is huge deal. Stomps on the buttons with her

fingers.

People thaw, drip, and shift on their feet behind Janie. She ignores them.

Sweating profusely.

“48.01,” the checker finally announces. She counts out the $1.99

in

change like it"s breaking her back to lift so many coins at once. Janie strings the pregnant bags over her arms, three on each side, and

flees. Sucks in the cold fresh air. Pumps her arms once she reaches the

road to get in her workout for the day, trying not to crush the eggs and

bread. Her arms ache pleasantly at first. Then they just plain ache.

After a quarter mile a car slows and comes to a stop in front of Janie. A

man gets out. “Ms. Hannagan, isn"t it?” he says. It"s Happy. Also known

as Mr. Durbin, her Chem. 2 teacher. “You need a ride? I was a few

customers behind you in line.”

“I"m…I"m okay. I like the walk,” she says.

“You sure?” He flashes a skeptical smile. “How far are you going?”

“Just, you know. Up the hill a ways.” Janie gestures with a nod of her

head up the snowy road that disappears into the darkness beyond Mr.

Durbin"s headlights. “It"s not that far.”

“It"s really no trouble. Get in.” Mr. Durbin stands there, waiting, arm

draped over the top of the open car door, like he won"t take no for an

answer. Which makes Janie"s skin prickle. But…maybe she should take

the chance to get to know Mr. Durbin a little better, for investigation

purposes.

“Well…” Janie"s starting to get shaky with hunger. “Thanks,” she says,

opening the passenger-side door. He slips back inside the car and moves

four or five plastic grocery bags to the backseat, and she gets in.

“Straight ahead, right on Butternut. Sorry,” she adds. She"s not sure why.

For the inconvenience, maybe.

“Seriously, no problem. I live just across the viaduct on Sinclair,”

he

says. “It"s right on my way.” The blast of the car heater fills the silence.

“So, how do you like the class? I was happy to see so many students.

Ten is big for this one.”

“I like it,” she says. It"s Janie"s favorite class, actually. But there"s no

need for him to know that. “I like the small size,” she adds, after more

silence, “because we each get our own lab station. In Chem. 1, we were

always doubled up.”

“Yep,” he says. “Did you have Mrs. Beecher for Chem. 1?”

Janie nods. “Yeah.”

Mr. Durbin pulls into the driveway when she points it out, and looks

puzzled to see Janie"s car standing there, looking like it"s just been

driven. There"s no snow built up on it, and steam rises off the hood. “So,

you prefer to walk on a frigid night like this and lug all that junk home

through the snow?” He laughs.

She grins. “I wasn"t sure I"d have ol" Ethel back tonight. Looks like she"s here now.” She doesn"t explain further. He puts the car in park and

opens his door. “Can I give you a hand?”

The bags, once she got into the car, had slipped every which way, and

are now a tangled mess. “You don"t need to do that, Mr. Durbin.”

He hops out and hurries to her side of the car. “Please,” he says. He

gathers three bags and scoots out of her way, then follows her to the

door.

Janie hesitates, knocking the snow off her boots, adjusting her bags, so

she can open the door. Notices things about her house that she overlooks

most days. Screen door with a rip in it and hanging a little bit loose on

its hinges. Wood exterior rotting at the base, paint peeling from it.
Awkward
, Janie thinks, going inside, Durbin at her heels. She flips on

the entrance light and is momentarily blinded by the brightness. She

stops in her tracks until she can see again, and Mr. Durbin bumps into

her.

“Excuse me,” he says, sounding embarrassed.

“My fault,” she says, feeling a little creeped out by having him in the

house. She"s on her guard. Who knows? It could be him they"re after.

They turn the corner into the shadowy kitchen. She puts her bags on the

counter, and he sets his next to hers.

“Thank you.”

He smiles. “No problem. See you Monday.” He waves and heads back

outside.

Monday. Janie"s eighteenth birthday.

She rummages through the bags on a mission. Grabs a handful of grapes,

rinses them off quickly, and shoves them in her mouth, craving the

fructose rush. She starts to put things away when she hears a step behind

her.

She whirls around. “Jesus, Cabe. You scared the crap out of me.”

He dangles her car keys. “I let myself in. Thought you"d be here. Heard

an extra voice, so I hid in your room. So, who was that?” he asks. He"s

trying to sound nonchalant. Failing miserably.

“Are you jealous?” Janie teases.

“Who. Was. It.” He"s enunciating.

She raises her eyebrow. “Mr. Durbin. He saw me walking home and

asked if I wanted a ride. He was in line behind me at the store.”

“That"s Durbin?”

“Yes. It was very nice of him, I thought.” Janie"s gut thinks otherwise,

but she"s not feeling like having a work discussion with Cabel right now.

“He"s…young. What"s he doing, picking up students? That"s odd.”

Janie waits to see what his point is. But there doesn"t seem to be one.

Still, she makes a mental note to record this incident in her case notebook—can"t be too cautious. Janie turns and continues to put things

away. She"s still confused over how quiet Cabel was earlier. Doesn"t say

anything.

“I didn"t know where you were,” he says finally.

“Well, if I knew you were coming, I would have left a note. However,”

she continues coolly, “I was under the impression that you were pissed

at me. So I didn"t expect I"d see you.” She"s visibly shaking by now, and

grabs the milk, rips open the cap, and chugs from the bottle. She sets it

down and looks for something that won"t take long to prepare. She grabs

a few more grapes and snarfs them.

He"s watching her. There"s a look in his eye, and she doesn"t understand

it.

“Thanks for bringing my car. I really appreciate it. Did you walk all the

way back to school?”

“No. My brother Charlie gave me a lift.”

“Well, thank him for me.”

She"s got the peanut butter open now, and globs it on to a piece of bread.

She pours some of the milk into a tall glass, grabs the sandwich, and

slips past Cabel into the living room. Flips on the TV and squints at it.

“You want a sandwich or something?” she asks. “Would you like to

stay?” She doesn"t know what else to say. He"s just looking at her.

Finally he pulls a piece of paper from his jacket pocket. Unfolds it. Turns off the TV. “Humor me for a minute,” he says. He stands directly in front of her, then turns and walks fifteen paces in