Inescapable (The Premonition Series) (7 page)

“Ahh, hell, Evie!” Russell says after he takes an aspirin. “So yer sayin’ it’s okay for y’all to talk to that…that…thing, but I’m not allowed to, is that it?” Russell inquires angrily.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I told you, his voice doesn’t work on me. I can have a conversation with him without getting mind controlled,” I say defensively. “When did you talk to him? Can you recall any of your conversation?”

Russell bends over again, cradling his face in his hands like his head weighs a ton. With his arm bent, his bicep bulges out of his t-shirt prominently, distracting me from my train of thought. His voice comes out muffled when he says, “I saw him this mornin’, when I was comin’ across campus, after my mornin’ workout.”

“And, what did you say?” I prompt after a brief pause.

“Well, that’s between us men, now isn’t it, Red?” he asks. “Well, between a man and whatever the hell he is…”

And there it is. Russell has figured out something that I had not wanted to admit, even to myself. If Reed is not a man…then what, indeed, is he?
And what am I?

“So Reed told you to forget about what happened last night, is that it?” I ask, trying to put the puzzle together.

“No, if he’d done that, I probably wouldn’t be this pissed off now. No, what he said was, ‘Forget about Genevieve; she’s not for you
this time.’”

I would laugh because Russell’s attempt to imitate Reed came out very nasal and nothing like the voice in question. But I’m not laughing because the meaning behind what he said is sending chills through me.

“Oh,” I say thoughtfully. “But you remembered me anyway. Not at first, of course, but you beat it…but not without consequences,” I say, acknowledging his aching head. “That is significant…you must be very stubborn,” I say lamely.

“I am, when I want somethin’,” he replies and manages a ghost of a smile.

“Well, it looks like being my friend might turn out to be hazardous to your health, Russell,” I say sadly.

“Whaddaya mean?” Russell asks, tensing up.

“What do
you
mean?” I counter. “Having your mind erased wasn’t enough for you? This isn’t your problem. Thanks for all your help, but this is outta hand. I’m not going to make you a target.”

“A target for what, Evie? You know more than yer sayin’, don’t ya?” Russell’s eyes narrow accusingly.

“It’s complicated, Russell. I really don’t know what’s going on. I haven’t had time to think. I just need to think,” I say as I take an aspirin, too.

Russell stares at me for a few moments, then he says, “Okay, somethin’ happened that ya think ya can’t talk to me ‘bout…I get that…I even get that y’all were raised a bit differently up here than most of the girls I know back home. Y’all are more independent, less inclined to ask for help, even when ya need it—and ya do, Red. Ya need help badly.” I start to deny what he is saying, but he holds up his hand to stop me. His brown eyes narrow a little as he adds, “Now, I don’t know how much help I can give ya. I’m not quite equipped for what’s bein’ thrown at me. But, I’m yer friend, and I’ll do what I can and maybe… when yer ready, ya can tell me whatcha know.”

When he finishes, I am speechless. He hardly knows me at all, and in the last twenty-four hours he has been subjected to things that would make most people run away in terror. My eyes fill up with tears. I want to hug him, I want to push him away, I want to thank him, I want to protect him, I want to tell him everything, and I want him to stay in the dark about everything.

“Well, Red, that looks like one hell of a battle ya got goin’ on in yer head. How ‘bout we just go and see if we can get us some books at the bookstore downstairs. That’s an easy enough task to get done for now,” Russell says, coming around to my seat and pulling my chair out for me to stand.

We walk together to the bookstore. We have little trouble purchasing what we need. It’s fortunate for me that Russell offers to help me with my books because when I have them all, I almost need a crane to get them back to my room.

“How are we going to get all of these books back, Russell? With your books and my books, we’ll need a wagon at the very least,” I speculate.

“Naw,” Russell says and starts putting a couple of books in each of our bags. He stacks the rest of the books in a pile haphazardly. Then he picks up the pile and says, “If ya can get our bags, we can walk across the street to Brady Hall, and I’ll run in and drop mine off.”

I follow Russell out the doors and across the street to Brady Hall. When we arrive at the doors to the lobby, he sets the books on the ground and sorts them. He stuffs my books in our bags, picking up his pile, he asks, “Can y’all wait here while I run these to my room? I don’t think I’ll ever get used to not being able to have any females ‘round. It seems just so unnatural.”

He’s alluding to the fact that Brady Hall is a men’s dormitory and that I couldn’t even enter the lobby during the weekdays.

“Ah, so you’re a player,” I say, teasing him about his comment.

“Red, that’s not what I meant. It’s just that I have two younger sisters who have a passel of friends ‘round all the time. Now there aren’t any. It’s almost disturbin’ not to hear them talkin’ a hundred miles an hour ‘bout nothin’ at all,” he says, smiling at me.

“Ah, I see. You have sisters? What are their names?” I ask, trying to imagine Russell taking care of two little sisters.

“If I tell ya, do ya promise not to laugh?” he asks with a quirk of his brow.

“Of course, how bad can it be?” I ask, frowning at him.

“Ya asked for it. The one that’s two years younger than me is named Scarlett and the youngest, who is four years younger than me, is named Melanie,” he says apologetically as he waits to see if I make the connection.

“Russell, how did you escape not being a Rhett or, God forbid, an Ashley?” I ask as I immediately make the literary connection to
Gone With The Wind.

“Well, my dad’s a Russell, so I have him to thank,” he says in relief that I’m not laughing at him.

“Ah, so you’re a junior,” I say, smiling as the mental image of a nice southern family begins to take shape in my mind.

What was that like? Growing up with two parents and a couple of little sisters in a nice town where you’re the football star. Sounds ideal,
I think.

“Actually, I’m ‘the third.’ My grandaddy was a Russell, too.” The door opens to the dorm as a young man steps out. Russell calls to him, “Could ya hold the door? I’ll be right back, Red.”

“Okay,” I say.

I smile awkwardly at a young man as he passes me. Feeling like a loiterer, I go over to a huge tree just off the sidewalk. The entire campus is littered with big oak and maple trees. I can’t wait for the leaves to start turning colors. Crestwood will be magical in mid-autumn.

Hearing the door of the dorm bang closed, I peek from my position under the tree and see Russell approaching me. “Ready?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’m starved. Let’s go eat first, since the cafeteria is right here, and then we can take yer books to yer dorm,” he says, and I nod in agreement. “Wait a sec, I’ll get that,” he says, bending down to pick up my heavy bag from the ground.

As he stands back up, his necklace appears from under his collar, swinging forward and catching the light. I freeze instantly, staring at the two silver pendants that are lying against his t-shirt suspended by a worn brown leather strap.

Nearly choking, I recognize the necklace from my dream— my nightmare, I murmur, “Russell, your necklace…it’s mad cool…where did you get it?”

“Uh, this?” Russell asks, lifting it up by one round pendant. “It’s kinda my family joke, Red.”

“Your family joke?” I prompt, feeling faint.

“Yeah, it’s a long story. Here, let’s go to Saga, and I’ll explain what I mean over lunch,” Russell says, taking my hand.

We walk together to the cafeteria. After we get our food and are seated at a table, I study Russell’s necklace from my seat. One of the pendants looks like a tarnished silver circle while the other looks like an elongated figure eight.

I stare at it breathlessly before I find my voice to ask, “Russell, your necklace…” I want to reach out and touch it, but my hands are shaking, so I put them in my lap to hide them.

“Oh, yeah, right,” Russell says, picking up the first pendant. “This is a circle, and I’ll explain to ya what it means in a second.” He drops the circle and picks up the elongated eight. “And this is an infinity symbol. To understand my family joke, ya have to know that my dad is a math teacher at a high school back home, and his name is Russell, too. He’s kinda stoked ‘bout the fact that there’s a mathematical paradox named ‘Russell’s Paradox.’ Have ya heard of it?”

“No,” I reply, shaking my head and taking a sip of water.

“Well, ya see, this mathematician named Bertram Russell came up with this logic problem. Now, I’m not a big fan of math like my dad is, so I like to explain it in words ‘cuz it’s easier for me. Here it is in this statement: ‘This statement is false.’ Now, if the statement is false, then it is true; and if the statement is true, then it is false.”

I think about the statement for a moment until I figure it out in my head. “I see what you’re saying. If the statement is false, meaning it is untrue, then it’s correct to say it’s false, so the statement is indeed true, but if that’s the case, it would be a lie to say it’s false, so it couldn’t possibly be true. It sounds like a catch-twenty-two.”

“Right, yer smart, Red, that didn’t take ya anytime at all to figure that out. It’s what ya call a vicious circle; ya can’t help but go round and round with it. Well, ya said yerself that ya think I’m fairly stubborn. My family thinks that I can be really stubborn and that I tend to go ‘round and ‘round with somethin’, just to get what I’m after. My mom calls me her paradox because sometimes I can be inconsistent with my logic,” he says, grinning at me. “My dad added the infinity sign to it to express the fact that it’s my eternal flaw,” he smiles at me, while I search his face for the connection that would unravel the puzzle for me.

“Russell, there is something that you should know,” I say haltingly.

“Oh yeah? What’s that, Red?” Russell asks.

“I dream every night about your necklace,” I say quietly, feeling like a complete tool.

I see him smile for a second until he reads the serious look on my face, then his smile falters. “Ya do wut?”

“Even before I came to school, I’ve seen this necklace in my dreams…my nightmares,” I say, looking down so I don’t have to see him look at me like I am crazy. “I don’t know what it means, but I know I have to…”

“Ya have to what?” Russell prompts me, watching me as I look back up at him.

“I have to protect it somehow,” I say.

“Protect it from what?” he asks me quietly.

“I don’t know, but it’s pretty freaking awful, and I can’t stop dreaming it,” I say honestly, hoping he wouldn’t laugh at me.

“So, what does it mean?” Russell asks me. “Do ya know? Are ya psychic or something?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. This has never happened to me before. It started right after I was accepted to Crestwood,” I reply, pushing my food around on my plate.

Russell looks around to see if we’re being overheard. When he doesn’t notice anybody listening to us, he leans in closer and says, “Damn, Evie, this is some freaky crap you’re talkin’ ‘bout here. It’s like ESP,” he explodes near the end, unable to contain his agitation.

“Okay, yes, that’s one option. The other option is that I’m a little crazy,” I reply. Surprisingly, that is starting to feel like the preferable option in my scenario. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you any of this now. It’s not like we know each other, really. As a matter of fact, you didn’t even know me this morning. It’s just that there is something else between us. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s there, for me, and I can’t explain it.”

Stop talking, you idiot!
I think to myself.
He has no idea what you’re babbling about.

But, Russell surprises me, saying, “Yeah, I know whatcha mean. It’s like always lookin’ for somethin’, but not knowin’ that yer lookin’ really. Like findin’ a piece of yerself that ya didn’t know y’all had lost…ahh hell, I sound like a girl. I can’t explain it either, but I know what yer sayin’.”

We are silent for a while, each of us fully aware of the other, and then Russell says, “Maybe Reed isn’t wrong. Are ya sure ya should be here?” When he sees the anger on my face, he goes on to ask, “What have yer parents said ‘bout all this?” My silence has him drawing the right conclusions, and he says, “Ya haven’t told them? Why not, Evie?”

Unable to look at him right away, I pick up my tray and take it over to the conveyor belt by the busing window. Setting my tray down, I turn to go back to the table, but I bump into Russell who is right behind me with his own tray.

“Sorry,” I mumble, trying to pull away from his side, but Russell’s arm snakes around my shoulder, holding me to him. After busing his tray, he retrieves our bags with all my books in them and we leave Saga together. We are outside and halfway through the quad before I realize it.

When we are out of hearing distance of anyone else, I blurt out, “I don’t have parents. I have an Uncle Jim, who loves me more than anything in the world, and that’s just as good as having parents. I can tell him just about anything, but I don’t even know what’s happening, so how can I possibly explain it to him? He’d try to believe me, I know he would, but if you hadn’t been at the lake with me, would you buy even half of this?” I ask him rhetorically because I’m certain the answer is no. “And I’m supposed to be here. I can feel it, so I’m not leaving!”