Forever Freaky (15 page)

I walked up to the counter. It took a moment
for one of the women to notice me and ask what I needed.

I said I wanted to see Mrs. Stock, and she
told me that Mrs. Stock was available and that I should just go
right in.

I went over to the line of inter offices
until I found the right door. It was open and I could see Mrs.
Stock sitting behind her desk. She had her elbows on the edge of
the desktop, and she was holding her head as though she had a
headache.

When I walked into the small window-less
room, she looked up. It was as though I caught her having a human
moment. She seemed embarrassed, but only for a second, and then she
put on a chipper face.

“Julia,” she chirped—counselors often
chirped, I’d noticed. “Come in. Come in. Shut the door.”

After I closed the door, I sat on the
well-worn chair in front of the desk. I was effectively trapped
now. It was like being inside a police holding room: no windows in
the door or walls. Usually I found that unnerving. Today I found it
useful.

“So what brings you down today?” she asked
brightly, as though it cheered her up that I might have some awful
problem.

“You called my house,” I said. It was clearly
an accusation.

“That I did. That I did,” she said. “I
haven’t seen you in so long. I was wondering how you were
doing.”

I sat there and stared at her.

“How are you doing?” she finally asked.

“I was doing fine,” I said.

“Oh, and what happened?”

“And then you called my house.”

She laughed a big jolly laugh. “I always
liked that about you—that sense of humor.” Honestly, I could barely
comprehend the woman; I didn’t think I was the least bit funny. “So
nothing going on?”

I shook my head slowly.

“Well, I have had the most horrendous week,”
she said, and proceeded to tell me her problems. The woman
obviously had vision issues; to her, it must have looked as though
I cared. She told me how one day she went to her garage only to
discover the garage door lying atop her car. And then her beloved
tabby cat, Homer, ran away and couldn’t be found anywhere. She had
been frantic, scouring the neighborhood, looking in dumpsters and
up trees. All her cats—seven of them—were like her children, and
when one of them was missing, it was like losing a small child,
only the police wouldn’t do a thing because they didn’t give a
flying fig about a cat…. She went on and on about her lost cat. I
decided I better do what I had come to do before a blood vessel
ruptured in my brain. I let my mind drift until I could see the
inside of the main office. It was still hushed, with people doing
their jobs in a daze. I concentrated on the water cooler first. It
was heavy and hard to move with my mind. It took a moment for me to
get it rocking back and forth, and then, finally, it tipped over
and crashed to the floor.

Mrs. Stock stopped her cat story. “What in
the world was that?” she wondered, alarm etched across her broad
face.

I shrugged a shoulder.

Then there were other crashes, glass
breaking, high-pitched screams.

Mrs. Stock jumped up from her chair. “I’ll be
right back.” She rushed from the room, shutting the door behind
her. “What in God’s green earth!” I heard her cry beyond the
door.

I went round the desk and sat in her chair.
She had logged onto her computer, so at least I would have no
password problem. I attacked the keyboard, clacking away
frantically, searching for the student records. I found them easy
enough, but I had a hard time figuring out how to search the
database. Why did they have to make all these programs different? I
kept glancing at the door, expecting Mrs. Stock to plow into the
room at any second. I finally found the search perimeters, and
keyed in ‘Mount Olive.’ A list of about twenty-five names appeared
on the screen, quite a few more than I’d expected.

Then the doorknob started to turn. I focused
on the door just in time to stop Mrs. Stock from entering the room
and catching me. The doorknob jiggled.

“Oh, for the love of… Now what?” I heard her
mutter on the other side of the door. The knob kept jiggling in an
agitated way. “Julia…Julia… Did you lock the door?”

I walked out from behind the desk. “Uh, no,”
I said. “Must be stuck.”

“This is ridiculous,” she grumbled. The knob
was turning back and forth frantically now, and I could hear the
wood creak, as she must have been pushing against the door with her
full weight. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, fine…. I’m in my happy place,” I
added, and immediately felt like slitting my throat for saying
those words.

I went back behind the desk. I had to get the
list fast, but there were too many names to jot down on a piece of
paper.

“I’m going to have to call Maintenance,” Mrs.
Stock called through the door.

“Do what you have to,” I said, trying to
figure out how to work her printer.

“You’re not having an anxiety attack, are
you?” she asked.

“Will you just shut up!” I yelled.

“Try to stay calm. I’ll get in there soon
enough,” she promised.

I clicked the PRINT button, and the printer,
which was set on a side table, spit out a sheet with the names. I
grabbed the sheet, folded it into a small square, and stuffed it in
my back pocket. After returning her computer to its desktop, I went
round the desk, sat back in my seat, and released the pressure my
mind had been holding against the door.

Mrs. Stock had already given up on the door,
which remained closed for a few minutes while I sat there like an
idiot waiting for somebody to notice that they could now open it
freely. Finally I got up and opened the door myself.

I found Mrs. Stock in the main office,
gawking up at the light fixtures, which didn’t look so good. Three
of them were dangling from only one of their two chains. Their long
fluorescent bulbs were missing, and a small spray of sparks was
raining down from a torn live wire. Tiny shards of glass covered
the tiled floor in front of the counter, and there was a small
flood of water behind the counter.

I walked up next to Mrs. Stock. “Bummer,” I
said.

I didn’t wait for her reaction, or for her to
ask how I’d escaped her office. I walked out into the hallway and
went about my business.

At lunch I sat with Jack and Melody, as
usual, but nobody was talking. Melody sat next to Jack. She was
picking at her food, brooding, probably trying to figure out how to
get Jack interested in her. Up until now, every trick she knew had
failed her.

Jack glanced at me now and then. He seemed
reluctant to speak.

I didn’t want to eat, and although I wasn’t
suffering an anxiety attack, I felt like fleeing the building. I
had an antsy sensation, as though something was nibbling at my
edges. If I weren’t sure I didn’t have one, I would have suspected
my conscience was bothering me.

“You all right?” Jack asked me.

“I’m fine,” I said curtly. I found his
concern more annoying than usual.

I dug the folded list out of my back pocket,
and slid it across the table at him.

“Oh, you got it,” he said, somewhat
surprised, unfolding the printer paper. “I heard there was some
kind of— disturbance in the main office this morning.”

“What is that?” Melody asked, and when
neither Jack nor I said anything, she said, “Obviously none of my
business.”

“It would only make your brain hurt,” I told
her, and then to Jack I said, “We’re even, right?”

“Sure.”

“Good, I have to get out of here,” I said,
pushing away from the table. As I turned to head out of the crowded
lunchroom, I caught Melody giving Jack a puzzled look, like What’s
with her?

Outside the sky was overcast and a chilly
breeze blew across the campus. I found a quiet spot on one of the
wooden benches. I sat sideways facing toward the busy street, with
my feet on the bench, and I hugged my knees toward me as though
trying to make myself into a small ball. I wished for some alone
time, but knew Jack would be there soon. He couldn’t help himself.
Apparently I was fascinating to him.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, he sat next
to me. I tried not to look at him, although he was right there in
front of me.

“You all right?” he asked.

“You asked that before. I told you.”

“Just double-checking.”

“No need to.”

“It’s just that you seem mad.”

I grunted. “I’m always mad.”

“No, you’re always hostile. There’s a
difference.”

“Jack—just stop talking.”

“I thought, maybe, because of…” He waved the
list he held in one hand.

“I agreed to get it for you. It was no big
deal.”

“Did you look at this?” he asked.

“No.”

“An interesting name popped up on it,” he
said, and when I didn’t respond, he said, “Eloise Parker.”

“Will you just drop it?” I said. “Let the
world figure out its own problems.”

“When does that ever happen?” he asked, and I
couldn’t disagree with him. He gave me a strange look. “What’s
bugging you anyway?”

“Nothing,” I lied. “You were saying about
Eloise.”

“Everybody hates her. She knows that—thanks
to Jessica.”

“It’s not Eloise.”

“It has to be,” he insisted.

“That wouldn’t make any sense. I talked to
her. I didn’t read her but I caught a sense of her. She would never
do a thing. She would let the world take care of its own problems.
Besides, why would she attack just jocks? Why not attack
Jessica?”

He saw the sense in this. He shook his head
and studied the sheet. “I don’t get it, then. There are only four
students who transferred to Adler from Mount Olive this year.
Eloise seems the most likely.”

“Jack, did you ever consider the possibility
that the right name isn’t on the list? How about the possibility
that nobody is starting anybody on fire?”

“You mean it’s all a series of flukes?”

“Yeah, why not?” I asked. “Sometimes life is
just weird, and there’s no explanation for it.”

“But you flashed on those burning pants,” he
reminded me.

“I have flashes on a lot of things,” I said.
“They don’t all mean something. Jack, just forget about these
things. I have to put up with stuff like this. You don’t. I really
don’t think it’s healthy for you. You get obsessed. You start
seeing things that aren’t there.”

“You think that’s what I’m doing?”

“Yeah—well, I don’t know. I just think you
need to leave this thing alone.”

As I tried to ignore him, I felt him studying
me closely.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”
he asked.

I hesitated a bit too long, before I said,
“No.”

“Jules?”

“You’re impossible,” I hissed. “Don’t you
have any common sense? Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to
touch fire? You need to tear that list up. You need to walk away
from this little mystery.”

“I don’t think I can,” he said.

“You have to,” I said. “You want to go home
one day and find your house on fire?”

“You do know what’s going on, don’t you?”

“It’s something you can’t stop—no matter what
you do.”

“So I’m supposed just look the other
way?”

“Exactly.”

He thought about that for a moment. “Maybe
you’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right,” I said. “So you’ll
stop poking around?”

“Sure,” he said, but I didn’t believe him. He
was just humoring me.

“Just go to your next class,” I sighed. “Go
and be normal, okay?”

“You going?” he asked.

“I think I’m going to get an early dismal. My
stomach’s bothering me a little,” I lied.

“Oh.” He studied me. “Call you tonight?”

“Sure,” I said.

I didn’t bother going to the office to ask
for an E.D. I didn’t care if I got into trouble for that. I just
needed to get away from the school.

After Jack left, I wandered over to the
student parking lot. I climbed into my old Chevy Nova and drove
away.

Fine drizzle was falling by the time I got
home. The streets were getting wet and slick. The drizzle whispered
through the new leaves of the towering trees that lined the block
on which I lived. I found the house dark and empty. Dad was at the
firehouse, I knew, and my mom had probably volunteered to work a
second shift at the hospital. It was for the best; I really didn’t
feel like being around anybody.

I let myself into the house and went up to my
room. I changed into a pair of shorts and a black t-shirt. I tried
to lie down in bed in my dim room, but couldn’t get comfortable. My
mattress felt lumpy and the air in my room smelled stale. So I got
up, opened my window, and climbed out onto the small slanting roof
at the front of the house. I would do that sometimes, when I wanted
to feel like the only person in the universe. Sometimes I needed to
feel that alone and free from the burden of other people. I’d sit
on the brown shingles and watch the birds fly past. Sometimes, I
thought, if there was any happiness in the world for me, I would
find it sitting alone out on that roof.

The roof was wet now, but I didn’t care. I
sat and let the cool drizzle fall down on me. I hugged my knees and
the rough shingles bite the bottoms of my bare feet. I watched the
occasional car that cruised down the street, its tires making
sopping sounds as they rolled over the wet asphalt. No birds flew
around today.

Then I heard a sigh. It came out of thin air.
A moment later, Jerry was sitting next to me. Jerry was the house
spirit, a former cop killed in the line of duty while protecting
his canine partner, Sarge. He still wore his uniform and the ugly
bullet hole in his forehead.

“I used to love the rain,” he said wistfully.
“The coolness and fresh air that comes with it. It always amazes
me—the things I miss the most are always the little things.”