Some Quiet Place (16 page)

I made a mistake, saving him and Susie that night. If I know anything about the world, things happen the way they’re supposed to. I interfered in an event that should have taken place. Even the rebellious Emotions can follow the rules I’ve broken.

An event …

What if Rebecca warned me against going to the party because she was afraid something specific would take place? Something specific like me losing control. Was there a chance she knew I would reveal an ability I shouldn’t have, an ability I never knew I had until that night? But what if I hadn’t broken any rules? Maybe I’d been … meant to interfere. For reasons I don’t know, maybe I was supposed to stop Joshua from being hurt …

I set my unfinished poem aside and stand.

Too many questions, not enough answers.

My truck rumbles into the school parking lot. As I reach for my bag in the passenger seat, I notice Sophia Richardson glaring at me. She’s probably been making plans to get back at me for a few days now.

The first bell is already ringing inside. I haul the bag onto my back and start jogging to make it on time.

Just as I reach the front doors a shadow looms across me, and I turn my head to meet Joshua’s intense gaze.

I’ve been expecting this.

“Not now,” I say, stepping past him. “We have to get to class.”

There’s no trace of the shy, uncertain boy when he sticks his arm out to block my path. “You owe me this,” he says sharply.

Two girls rush by, hardly noticing Joshua and me as they skirt around. It’s as if neither of us is actually here.

I yield, stepping away from the doors. “How do I owe you anything?” I question.

“Because I believe in you,” Joshua tells me simply. The bizarre statement causes my nothingness to twinge.

After a moment of consideration, I nod. “Okay. I’m listening.”

This boy I’ve known most of my life takes my arm gently, leading me away from the doors so no teacher sees us. He pulls me around the side of the building, under the shade of some oak trees.

“We both know what happened the night of the party,” he starts. He folds his arms across his chest in a resolute stance, and once again I notice the rubber band around his wrist.

“Why do you wear that?” I ask abruptly, motioning at it.

Joshua blinks. “What?”

“The rubber band,” I clarify. “Why do you wear it?”

Suddenly self-conscious, he looks down at the band, toying with it. He allows me to change the subject. “It’s kind of dumb,” he admits. “But it’s a therapy thing. Well, more of a habit, now. A couple months after my mom died, Sally gave it to me. You know Sally, right?”

When I nod, he goes on. “Anyway, I was ten and I wasn’t talking to anyone. I was depressed, I guess; I started getting into fights with other kids. No one could get anything from me, not even the therapists my dad forced me to go to. So one day Sally comes up to me in the grocery store, squats down so she’s looking me right in the eye, and gives me this rubber band. ‘Every time you think about hurting yourself or someone else, snap this on your wrist,’ she tells me. ‘A rubber band has got to be better than a fist, right?’” He smiles faintly at the memory.

“Most therapists would try to stop the pain completely,” I comment.

Joshua shrugs. “That was what was so great about it. She didn’t try to change me or fix me. She just gave me another option. One that didn’t land me in a hospital or more therapy sessions.”

Joshua doesn’t give me a chance to process this. “Now it’s your turn.” He raises his brows in challenge. He wants the truth—there’s no need to say it out loud. The breeze picks up, and leaves stir above our heads. It’s a content sound.

So I tell him. “I’m human. I know you’re thinking alien or vampire or something like that, so you can relax. But I don’t feel any emotions. I can run a little faster than a speeding car, and I also see things that no other human can see.” There isn’t much more, but I offer what I can: “I’ve been told I feel nothing because of some sort of power over me, and that I’m expected to break through it soon. I’ve already started to, actually.” I go on to explain the other plane.

Joshua takes this in without the reaction I was anticipating; there’s no wariness, disbelief, disgust. Even so, it’s a little too much for him.

Once I’m finished I wait about a minute for him to think about it, then shoulder my bag again. “We really do have to go in,” I remind him.

He looks around, as if seeing the school for the first time, and lets out a breath. His bangs lift off his forehead, and slowly settle back down, covering his eyes. An odd instinct consumes me to reach out and brush all that hair aside.

I start to walk toward the doors, and Joshua recovers quickly. He catches up with me. “We’re not done talking about this, you know,” he says. “Not by a long shot.”

“What else can there be?”

“Hey.” Joshua touches my elbow, stopping me yet again. His eyes—amber in the sunlight—are solemn. “Just because I know about you now doesn’t mean I’m going to treat you like Sophia Richardson.” He grins. “I mean, you’re still you, right?”

I study his face. “And who is it, exactly, that you think I am?”

The boy frowns. “Well, first off, I don’t buy the ‘no Emotion’ shit. You may not be obvious about it, but you’re definitely human in that area.”

Another person who’s going to deny the truth. Even if I can’t discourage Fear, I can set Joshua straight. “I meant what I said that day on the steps, Joshua,” I say. “Maggie’s death didn’t affect me. You ignoring me didn’t bother me. The fact that my own mother doesn’t love me doesn’t matter. When my father hits me, I feel nothing. My brother acting like everything is perfect and nothing is wrong doesn’t infuriate me. I don’t—”

“Knock it off,” he cuts in with a downward slash of his hand. “I’m not the one in denial. You are.” It’s as if he’s read my mind.

I think of all those little things that make him believe this. Memories that aren’t just his. Seemingly human moments. Me offering him a smile in our kindergarten class. Me comforting Maggie on the playground after a boy had called her ugly. Me staring out the classroom window as one of our teachers droned on and on. Me studying the mural on my wall with an expression akin to frustration. Me looking down into Maggie’s casket, those strange tears trailing down my cheeks. Our hands laced together on the table in the library.

I’m shaking my head. “Joshua, no matter what it seems like—”

He still won’t let me finish. “It’s a lot to take in, I’ll admit,” he says as if I haven’t spoken. “But I’ve always known something was different. I didn’t care. Do you understand that?
I don’t care
. You’re Elizabeth, and that is someone, no matter what you think or say.”

“Joshua—”

He sighs. “And as far as me ignoring you, well, that wasn’t just because of what you said on the steps or because of what I saw at the party. If you’d bothered paying attention to me at all, you’d know that the crops have me pretty worried, okay?”

Silence falls between us. A bee whizzes by. The only words that come to mind are
I’m sorry
, and I won’t say it to him because it would be a lie. I’ve already lied to him, and now … it just doesn’t seem like the correct thing to do.

“Do you want to come over tonight?”

It’s out before I’ve thought it through, before I have a chance to stop it. Joshua seems just as taken aback as me. As if my hand has a mind of its own—no, I must be
losing
my mind—my fingers reach out, and gently, so gently, brush those persistent bangs out of the way for the first time. Joshua looks back at me, his gaze finally unhindered by all of that hair.

“It’s always in the way,” I offer by way of explanation. He just keeps staring at me, and I know he’s wondering what this means.

Then he grins. A big, slow, smug grin that shows the extent of his renewed hope.

I spin on my heel and go into the school, my nothingness trembling inside of me. I can hear him following.

“So I’ll see you tonight?” Joshua calls just as the door closes. I poke my head back out, trying not to think of all the repercussions this entire conversation could have on everything and anything.

“After my parents are asleep,” I answer against my better judgment. “Late.”

He nods, jogging up the steps. Just as he’s getting closer I make to vanish again. He says quickly, “See you then, Elizabeth.”

The way he says my name makes the trembling increase. As if we have a delicious secret no one else in the world knows.

It reminds me of Fear.

“Won’t be back until morning!” Charles shouts on his way out the door.

Sarah waves at him, soap flicking to the tiles, but my brother is already in the driveway. We can hear his truck starting. Silence fills the house again. I’m in the laundry room adjacent to kitchen, standing in front of the washer. I know Sarah’s listening to every move I make, unnerved by my being here. In an effort to put her at ease, I don’t bother attempting conversation.

There are laundry buckets all around my feet. Bending over, I find and pull a pair of Tim’s jeans inside out, checking the pockets before dropping them into the wash. Next I find one of Charles’s T-shirts and put that in as well. When I pick up a pair of Sarah’s jeans, I check the pockets as usual, but pause as my hand collides with a folded-up piece of paper.

Maybe I should hesitate to look, invade Sarah’s privacy, but I’m opening it before I think about it.

It’s an airline ticket. One-way to New York City.

As I scan the words on the small piece of paper, I remember Sarah mentioning, long ago, that her mother lived there. It was Christmas morning; she’d had such a pained look in her eyes.

I glance at the date—three days from now—before shoving it back into the pants pocket.

Eighteen

“Psst!”

Thunk.

“Hey, Elizabeth, are you up there?”

Thunk
.

My eyes flutter open and I gaze up at the ceiling. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep. I sit up, and my notebook falls to the floor. I lean over and stare at the poem staring up at me. The scribbled words taunt.
I hide, I protect, I pretend
.

Joshua calls my name again, his voice hushed and loud at the same time. He throws something at the window. He’s going to break it soon if I don’t get up.

When I get to the pane, his arm is arched back, getting ready to throw something small in his hand. He sees my silhouette too late. I watch a tiny crack bloom across the glass. If Tim notices it, I’ll pay.

Joshua cringes. “Sorry!”

The window slides open with a slight hitch and I bend forward. “What are you doing?” It’s a cold night; the air numbs the tips of my ears and nose.

The boy shrugs, grinning. “You said late. I wasn’t sure how late, so I took a wild guess. You’re not getting away from me that easily.”

A glance at my alarm clock shows me that it’s 2:45 a.m. Joshua waits patiently. I hold up one finger to him, and he nods. I pull away, leaving the window open. I listen to the lonely sound of the wind as I pull a hoodie on over my tank top. I don’t bother changing out of my sweatpants and slip out my door.

He’s in the driveway, hands shoved in his pockets, still smiling. He looks so much like the little boy I used to know in this moment, with his silly-shy grin and a tuft of hair sticking up at the back of his head. My stomach does a bizarre little jump.

“I don’t know why I invited you here,” I tell him, my voice coming out icy. “Maybe this is a mistake.”

He inclines his head, and I notice how his hair is out of his eyes—he’s brushed it aside so that it sweeps across his forehead. The strands of red glow white under the moon. “Maybe,” Joshua acknowledges. “But maybe that’s what makes it so great. You’re letting go.”

For the first time in my life, I admit, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Fear’s words come back to me:
For the first time in your life, you act without thinking.
It seems Joshua Hayes brings out a lot of firsts in me. But the thought of Fear brings on a whole new train of thought, and I begin to wonder if I’ll see him again. After that conversation in the hallway—

Joshua holds his hand out. Clamping down on my roiling thoughts, I take it. His palm is rough and scarred from working on the farm all his life … just like mine. He’s warm and I’m hot. Our skins collapse against each other, and I imagine I can hear a sizzling in the air.

He senses my distraction and won’t let it go any further. “Hey.” He tugs on my hand, leading me away from the house. “Stop thinking for once. Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

He’s leading me toward the road. We leave my house behind, and the fabric of my shoes rubs against my bare ankles—I forgot to put on socks. Joshua parked his car farther down the road. He probably didn’t want the engine to wake up Tim and Sarah. He stops by the car, nodding to himself, and turns to survey the cluster of trees by the road. His hold on my hand tightens, and he starts to walk toward the woods. I resist.

“Joshua, what—”

“Just be patient,” he sighs, tugging at me some more, and I allow him to lead me into the trees. But then I pull myself free from his grip. He lets me, acting as if it doesn’t affect him. Darkness and shadows press in all around. I should tell Joshua about the possible dangers of this place—I think of the shadow in my dreams, Rebecca’s obvious terror. But he’s walking again, leaving me behind without waiting to see if I’ll follow.

He knows I will. I hurry to catch up.

A delicate web above catches my eye, glistening between some leaves. A tiny black spider zips this way and that, its long legs weaving, weaving, always weaving.

“ … and while I was walking to your house tonight, I found them,” Joshua is telling me. “It would’ve been hard to miss; there was a bright glow.” We duck under a low branch.

Glow?
What does he mean? Rethinking this, I stop right there, shifting from foot to foot. Joshua notices right away and turns to face me. We’re standing on a slanted ground, so for once I’m eye level with him. I notice the green flecks in his brown eyes. “We shouldn’t be out here,” I tell him.

Joshua laughs quietly and turns to start walking again. “What, are there werewolves?”

When I don’t bother to answer he turns to look at me again, eyebrows raised. “
Are
there werewolves?”

My eye catches the faint gleam of a trap on the path, and I grab Joshua’s elbow to swerve him around it. “What—” His head whips around and I point to the trap wordlessly. Joshua frowns down it. “Thanks,” he mutters. “That’s twice you’ve saved me now, you know.” I hear the unspoken question in the statement but don’t address it.

His elbow is warm in my grip, and I let go before he notices I’m still touching him. We walk for a few minutes more, and then he’s lifting his hand to point, turning his shaggy head toward me. There’s a faint light ahead, shining through the brush. Joshua is beaming with delight and a tiny bit of awe. He dares to take my hand a second time and pulls me forward against my better judgment.

A tiny clearing bursts open in front of us. It’s alive and soundless, illuminated by hundreds of fireflies. This is impossible, of course; the coming winter should have killed them, or at least made them go into hibernation. Either something is going wrong with the Elements or this is some strange happenstance. And I don’t believe in happenstance.

They dart every which way, stunning, bright. Flashing, fading, becoming, disappearing. Dizzying and riveting all at once. “It’s beautiful,” is all I say.

Beside me, Joshua just continues to stare at them. “I wanted to show you,” he whispers, as if speaking too loud will frighten them all away. Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention, and I don’t respond to him. A small creature vanishes from an upturned bucket and appears on my shoulder. Joshua doesn’t see her, which gives away the fact that she’s not part of this world. I recognize her scent, a slight tang of pinecones—I’ve encountered this one before. Her countenance is not familiar, though. Her hair is long and black, dragging at her feet. Her chin and ears are delicately pointed, and her wide eyes are such a dark brown they’re almost black.

“Who are you?” I ask her, my voice just barely above a whisper. I don’t want Joshua to hear. I shift away from him to be safe. He doesn’t seem to notice. He walks deeper into the clearing, looking lost in thought.

“Moss,” the creature answers. “It’s my specialty.”

As soon as she speaks in her high, piping voice, I know where I’ve met her before. “Moss,” I repeat. She giggles. I smile to appeal to her. “You were at Sophia’s birthday party that night.”

Her hands suddenly flutter; she’s uncomfortable. I re-member her words in my ear:
He’s here, he’s here! Disappear, before he gets you, gets you!

“You were warning me about something,” I add. I reach up and untangle the ends of her hair for her.

Her little hands flutter again, this time with pleasure. She nods hesitantly, her Cupid’s mouth pink and pursed. “I shouldn’t talk about it. It’s not safe.”

A firefly flits past my nose and Moss straightens, as if she wants to chase after it. “Please tell me?” I say, and her dark gaze goes back to my face. She flinches. Joshua is still enraptured by the lights, and he hasn’t even noticed my quiet conversation. He’s admiring the intricate dance.

The Element on my shoulder smiles at me, putting her hand on my cheek. She seems to like the texture of my skin. An instant later she squeaks and jerks her hand back, abruptly terrified, and she jumps off me, disappearing into the thick of the lights. The fireflies grow more frenzied, bright blurs of movement. I frown, sensing a disturbance. It isn’t until I feel a cool breath on my cheek and feel him pressed against my shoulder that I identify the reason for their anxiety. Oh. I should have known.

I keep my eyes on Joshua. A boy that I’ve known all my life, a boy that has always watched over me from afar. He’s smiling at me, motioning to join him. He doesn’t see Fear, of course. I don’t move.

“You almost look as if you feel something for him,” Fear whispers, folding his arms around my waist from behind. His chest is hard against my back, his skin like marble. He rests his chin on the top of my head. “But I know that can’t be right. After all, you don’t care about anything, right?”

His hands are on me. The touch makes the wall of nothingness shudder, makes me think of those kisses and that brief minute in the hallway when I’d yearned to do it again. Despite this, I allow his touch. Maybe he’ll tell me about the party. “That’s correct.”

He chuckles bitterly. “I never realized how stubborn you are. You hid it better when you were small.” When I don’t answer, Fear shifts so that Joshua is blocked from my view. I finally look up at him. “Well, at least I know that if you can’t feel anything for me, you can’t feel anything for him, either,” he says in a low voice, his eyes burning into mine. After a moment he turns away to watch the fireflies too, his brow furrowed. He tries to hide his feelings from me, but I sense the turmoil inside him, a swirling mass of dark and light that constantly war with each other. In the midst of all of it is me.

Did … did part of me want him back, during that brief moment in the school hallway when the wall crumbled?

No. That couldn’t be. “You’ve been avoiding me,” I say in an effort to direct my thoughts in a more practical direction. “At the party—”

He sighs. “I won’t answer your questions about that night, Elizabeth. There are some things a human shouldn’t know. Even a human like you.”

In the distance, an owl calls, a tenor that’s gentle and luring. A symphony. Fear smiles now. “May I have this dance?” He doesn’t try to hide his feelings as he gazes down at me. His hands are freezing on my arms. Our frozen hearts are so similar. Too similar.

“Dance with me, Elizabeth?”

Joshua has come back. Once again he holds his hand out for me to take. His warm, rough, real hand. Courage chooses this moment to appear, and without saying a word to me or looking at Fear, he grasps the back of Joshua’s neck.

I look at Fear, then Joshua, then at those lights floating in swirling masses. I clench my fists.
I hide, I protect, I pretend
.

I feel Joshua on my right, a balmy, solid presence, and Fear on my left, wintry and impossible. One human, what I should yearn for, and one from another world, part of the plane that has put me in this position. Just being near him makes my own world seem unreachable and surreal.

Surreal is dangerous.

I don’t look at Fear. My fingers are so light as they wrap around Joshua’s hand, and I try to say with my eyes what I can’t with my mouth.
I choose you.

Sophia has finally decided how to exact her revenge. I can tell by the way she keeps sneaking glances back at me, a catty smile curving her glossed lips. Her fingers caress the cast around her wrist, apparently from when I grabbed and sprained it. I keep my head down, debating on the best course of action to take: avoidance or endurance. Confrontation is probably not an option; I don’t want another repeat of what I did to her the night of her party.

Joshua also looks back at me, but for another reason entirely. I’d guess he’s uncertain about how I’ll act today, in the aftermath of last night. Sleeping and dreams have strengthened my nothingness, yet there’s still something deep down inside of me that stirs. Something deep down inside of me that can’t stop thinking about Fear and the look in his eyes as I danced with Joshua. I’d done exactly what I’d set out to do: discourage him. Why, then, does the memory of his expression hound me?

“ … read the chapters I’ve assigned you,” Mrs. Farmer is instructing the class. The bell rings as she speaks, and everyone gets to their feet, gathering their books and leaving the classroom as quickly as possible.

Sophia darts out the doorway with the rest of the crowd, no doubt eager to find her friends and start the planning for my demise. Joshua lingers at his desk, waiting for me. I walk past him and approach Mrs. Farmer.

“Here.” My palm slaps against the wood of the teacher’s desk as I set down two pieces of paper stapled together. “My part of the project you assigned.” At Mrs. Farmer’s blank stare, I add, “The portfolio?”

“Oh!” Comprehension dawns in the teacher’s face. Compassion appears beside her—she’s a tall Emotion with a solemn light in her gray eyes. Mrs. Farmer reaches out to pat my hand but I move it out of the way. Hers flutters back to her lap awkwardly. “Joshua did well enough for the two of you,” she says, glancing at him. “You didn’t have to do this extra work. I understand the circumstances.”

“That’s nice of you, but I don’t want special treatment,” I counter. “Please look this over and give me the grade you think the work deserves.”

She knows my meaning: I don’t want to be graded on Maggie’s death. Efficiency. That should be the focus. After a moment I turn my back on Mrs. Farmer and Compassion, leaving the room.

“When did you finish it?” Joshua asks me in the hall. His locker is in the opposite direction of mine but he walks with me anyway. We pass Susie Yank and she waves at me, timid. I don’t miss how her glance lingers on Joshua, and her expression is almost worshipful. I return her wave but don’t stop.

“I finished it this morning,” I tell Joshua finally. “After we got back.”

“Can I read it?”

I walk faster.

“Hey.” He touches my arm, stopping me. It seems like he’s always content to have our conversations in the middle of the hall. I pull my arm away, and he blushes. The sight of that twists something in my middle.