Rising (17 page)

“So, you’re
seein
’ ‘
em
, too, huh?”

7

GABE

“Excuse me?” asked Clara.

Jeremy stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets
and walked toward us.

“The shadow people?
 
The others?
 
You’re
seein
’ ‘
em
in
your dreams, aren’t you?”

Clara and I glanced at each other.
 
This was unbelievable.
 
I was getting a strange vibe from him, not
angry or upset or intense in any kind of way.
 
It was just steady and even like this was a normal conversation.

“How long have you been dreaming about them?” I
asked.

“A couple of weeks now,” he replied
casually.
 
“I figured out that I wasn’t
the only one when I saw that masterpiece in charcoal of yours.”

“Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“I don’t know.
 
Would you?”

Good question.
 
I doubt that I would.

“Jeremy,” said Clara, “have you ever seen a
shadow person in real life?
 
I mean, up
close.”

I could sense that her fear had turned into
something more like excited curiosity.

“Well, no.
 
But, maybe.”

He had a sheepish smile, like he enjoyed his
little mysteries.

“Are you going to tell us or what?”

I knew there was an edge to my voice that told
him to cut the crap.

“I’ve only seen them in my dreams.
 
But, lately, I keep seeing shadows in broad
daylight.
 
Everywhere, man.
 
It’s always in my peripheral vision, you
know, but when I look, there’s nothing there.”

I couldn’t believe this.
 

“Me too,” I said.

“What?” asked Clara.
 
“You never told me this.”

“I didn’t want to scare you.”

“You’ve got to be kidding, Gabe.
 
I’m having visits in my bedroom from one of
these creepy things, and you didn’t want to scare me?
 
At least I would know that I’m not just going
crazy.”

“You saw one in your room?” interrupted
Jeremy.
 
“Wicked.”

“Well,” continued Clara, “I think we should all
go see Theresa.
 
I mean, if Jeremy’s
having these dreams, too, then maybe he can help figure this out.”

“Who’s Theresa?” asked Jeremy.

“We found her on this website,” I tried to
explain.
 
“She says that she’s actually
seen these things in real life.
 
She
wants us to meet her after school at the Holiday Inn.”

“Whoa.
 
Are y’all into some kind of kinky on-line dating thing?”

“No!” Clara and I snapped at the same time.

“Just kidding,” he said with that annoying grin
again.
 
“So, let’s ditch school and go
meet her.
 
I’m game.”

“Absolutely not,” said Clara.
 
“It would look a little suspicious, Gabe, if
we just disappeared since everyone knows we were in our first four periods.”

“And, no one would notice if I was gone,
right?
 
Because I’m already invisible?”
asked Jeremy.

I could tell that he hurt Clara’s feelings,
which pissed me off, but then he saved himself from my interference.

“Just kidding.
 
You really need to get a sense of humor.
 
Besides, nobody would notice if I took off.
 
That’s my whole plan, man, to be
in
cognito
.”

“Oh,” said Clara.
 

I could tell she didn’t know how to respond to his
weirdness.
 

“Well, let’s just go after school like we
planned.
 
Okay?” she added.

“Whatever,” said Jeremy, “catch you on the flip
side.”

He plugged his earphones back in, pulled his
hoodie up tight and went back into the hall.
 
Clara was fidgeting with a loose thread on her shirt.

“Are you okay now?”

“Sure,” she said, but not very convincingly.

I brushed a long strand of her hair away that
had fallen in front of her eyes.
 
Those
light hazel eyes seemed so sad, too sad.
 
I bent down close to her.

“Goddard, better get back to class and kiss
your girl later.”

It was Coach Louviere coming up the walk from
the track field.
 
His warning sounded
casual but meant business.
 
I gave him a
quick wave then Clara and I hurried to our fifth period classes.
 

Surprisingly, the rest of the day sped by,
especially when I got to last period.
 
Jeremy and I spent the whole hour pretending to share art techniques,
but actually recapping our dreams.
 
I also
caught him up on Theresa
Miguez
and what we knew
about her.
 
Mrs. Fowler was so impressed
with our intense “art” discussion that she never once told us to be quiet and
get back to work.
 
When the bell rang, we
were still talking about it while walking to my Jeep.

“The weird thing is, we’ve all dreamed about
the same creatures, but at different places.
 
It’s always a swamp for me in a storm,” I told him.

“Really?
 
And, mine have been on streets with shops, like in town at the plaza.”

We made it to the parking lot when I heard
someone behind me.

“Hey, Gabe.
 
Where’s your prettier half?”

It was Mark who usually parked his pick-up a
few spots down from me.

“She’s coming.”

“You missed it, man.
 
Ben was snoring so loud in French that Ms.
Toussant
knocked him awake with her yard stick right on the
back of his head.
 
Whack!” he said,
giving me the full effect with an invisible slap in the air.

“What’s up with him?”

“I don’t know, but pretty boy better get his
beauty sleep or he’s gonna have a row of knots on the back of his head.”

Mark was laughing, but at the same time he kept
glancing at Jeremy who was now sitting in the backseat of my Jeep.
 
He gestured me over.

“What gives, dude?
 
You
hangin
’ out
with that
headbangin
’ geek now?”

He clearly spoke loud enough for Jeremy to
hear.
 
To his credit, he slipped on his
earphones and ignored Mark.

“He’s cool,” I said.
 
“We’re working on a science thing for
Dunaway.”

“Oh,” he said, easily accepting that lame
explanation.
 
“Alright.
 
Catch
ya
later.”

Clara practically ran across the parking lot a
minute later.
 
She threw her backpack in
and swung herself into the front seat in one quick movement.
 
I was still highly impressed with her
athletic ability.

“Let’s go.”

I was glad to feel that her stressful vibe was
gone.
 
There was a new sense to her
now.
 
Not that warm and fuzzy feeling
that I so often got, but one I could only describe as eager anticipation of
something.
 

None of us talked.
 
The radio station was doing their Afternoon
Oldies Hour.
 
An 80s band called The
Police was wailing that Roxanne didn’t have to wear that dress tonight when Jeremy
poked his head in the front seat.

“Do you really listen to this crap?”

I shrugged.
 
I liked my music, but I wasn’t as obsessed as Jeremy.

“No, no, no.
 
We need some
real
music.”

I watched him in the rearview mirror pull out
an iPod car adaptor from his backpack.

“You carry that with you?” I asked.

“Always be prepared.
 
Boy Scout motto,” he replied, shoving it into
my battery plug.

“You were a Boy Scout?” asked Clara.

He just grinned.

“Here we go, ladies and gents.
 
I give you one of the best albums ever made,
Destroyer
, by the almighty Kiss.”

“Wasn’t that the weird band who wore all the
make-up and high heels?” asked Clara.

“You’ve
gotta
be
kidding me.
 
Just relax, listen, and
learn what real music is all about,” said Jeremy snidely.

I caught a glimpse of Clara smiling to
herself.
 
I mean, who hadn’t heard of
Kiss?
 
It was good to see her playful
side coming out again.
 
Jeremy air-
guitared
with Gene Simmons and sang along with Paul Stanley
for the rest of the ride to the hotel, which was a short one.

Beau
Chêne
was a
small town, but it was settled along a busy Interstate that connected New
Orleans to I-10.
 
There were a couple of
hotels located right on Beau
Chêne’s
outskirts to
lodge any businessmen in the oil industry who happened to be passing through.
 
It probably looked a little strange for three
teenagers to be wandering into the lobby after school.
 
We didn’t know any of the people drinking
coffee or surfing the Internet, but I wasn’t thrilled with the way the
curly-haired receptionist was watching us when we walked through the door.
 
Theresa stood up and joined us as soon as we
came in.
 
She offered her hand to me
first.

“Hi, Gabriel.
 
It’s nice to officially meet you.
 
I’m Theresa
Miguez
.
 
And, you’re Clara, right?”

She turned and shook Clara’s hand then finally
turned to Jeremy.

“I’m sorry.
 
I wasn’t prepared for a third person.”
         
“It’s okay,” I said.
 
“It might sound crazy, but we just found out
that he’s dreaming about the same thing we are.”

Theresa eyed him skeptically, which seemed kind
of ironic to me since she was having so much trouble convincing people in her
profession that she actually saw what she saw.
 
I guess anybody would be suspicious of a third wheel jumping on the
oh-I’m-dreaming-of-monsters-too bandwagon.
 

“It’s for real.
 
He really is,” Clara assured her.

“That’s very interesting,” she said.
 
“Do you know if there are others?”

“No.
 
I
hadn’t thought about it,” I answered.

“But, why would just you three in this little
town be dreaming of them?”

She seemed to be asking the air around her
rather than any of us.
 
It was a question
I had been wondering myself.
 
I was
hoping Theresa might have the answers.

“What is it that you have to tell us?” Clara
asked anxiously.

Theresa’s face turned dark.

“I think it’s best if I show you,” she said.
 
“Come with me.”

We followed her outside and up to the second
floor on the outside staircase.
 
Her room
was just at the top with a ‘do not disturb’ sign hanging on the doorknob.
 
She glanced around nervously as she unlocked
the door.
 
She seemed a little paranoid, even
though there wasn’t a soul in sight.
 
Expecting the typical white-walled, cheaply furnished hotel room, I was
shocked to see an entire wall covered from top to bottom in photographs.
 
The television was set to the weather
channel, which was continually looping weather reports and routes for Hurricane
Lucy.

“Come in, come in, hurry,” she said, ushering
us through the door and closing it behind Jeremy.

“Cloak and dagger,” he whispered hoarsely as he
slid through the doorway, “way cool.”

Theresa ushered us to the wall of photographs.

“This is an actual representation of the
underground wall at the archaeological site in Cuba.
 
I posted each picture as it appeared on the
wall.
 
As you can see, it stops here because
that’s where my memory card on my camera filled up.
 
I was unable to get the complete wall of
pictographs.”

“That sucks,” said Jeremy.

“Actually,” she added, “that was the only thing
that saved my life.”