The Third Throne: Angel of Darkness (2 page)

CJ nodded his head in agreement.  “I did see Jared talking to Amy yesterday after practice.  I think you scored a perfect 10 in the I’ve Got a Secret game.  I don’t know how you do it.”

Michelle stood up and ignored CJ’s praise for her bizarre talent.  On top of the horror-filled nightmares, she sometimes had the ability to sense people’s emotions or know when they had done something wrong.  She and CJ had made a game of it when they were younger.  It bothered her that she could tell when someone was lying or know when they were upset, even though they tried to hide it.  CJ thought it was fun, so he played into it.

“Who else has a secret?” he looked around the hallway at the other students pouring into the hallway as the buses arrived.

She shook her head quickly, unwilling to play anymore, and pretended to look for a pen.

CJ poked her lightly in the side.  “Come on, there has to be someone else who’s worthy of your talents.  Did anyone cheat on yesterday’s quiz?  Did anyone hook up recently?  There has to be something interesting going on,” CJ saw Mr. Timmons walking toward them.  “How about Mr. Timmons?  I still don’t understand how he ended up as a teacher.”

Michelle watched Mr. Timmons chatting with the students as he made his way through the minefield of girls trying to get his attention.  He was by far the most attractive teacher in the school, though the most professional.  Girls flunked English just to be tutored by him, though he never seemed to notice.  The girls, on the other hand, openly gawked at his meticulous blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and broad shoulders.  He was tall and had a commanding presence.  He looked out of place sitting behind a desk trying to teach kids the importance of reading and writing.  He would have been more suited to be on the cover of a magazine trying to convince people to buy expensive clothing or exercise equipment.  When he smiled, there was an audible gasp or giggle from the girls, which he took in stride.

“I’ve told you before, he’s a great teacher, but I can’t figure him out.  I still think he’s in witness protection or something.  There’s no other reason for someone like him to get paid next to nothing to teach Shakespeare to kids who could care less,” Michelle snickered.

CJ rolled his eyes.  “You just think he’s attractive, so you don’t want to say anything bad about him.”

She smacked CJ in the arm for being rude.

“That’s not true.  You don’t like him because he almost failed you during the first quarter of Freshman year.  It’s not his fault that you wrote an entire essay condemning Romeo and Juliette, stating that it wasn’t a tragedy, but a laughable comedy because they stupidly ended their own lives,” Michelle snickered.

CJ folded his arms defiantly.  “I stand by my essay.  Just because everyone loves it, doesn’t mean that it’s a good play.  Romeo shouldn’t have killed himself.  He should have lived the best life he could have for both of them, if she had actually died,” CJ huffed at Romeo’s impulsiveness.

He turned his back to Mr. Timmons and rummaged through Michelle’s locker.

Mr. Timmons nodded his head to Michelle.  “Good morning, Miss Black.  I hope you’re ready to perform your scene from Macbeth.  Your grade is counting on it,” Mr. Timmons smiled encouragingly at her.

Greg Timmons was her favorite teacher, even if English wasn’t her strongest subject.  He had spent the last four years trying to extol the merits of Shakespeare, yet despite his best efforts, she still didn’t get it.  Though she hated Shakespeare in general, she actually enjoyed reading Macbeth, which was why instead of writing a God-awful report about it, Mr. Timmons had mercifully suggested that she perform a scene.  She had decided on Lady Macbeth’s sleepwalking scene, when she went mad from the blood on her hands.

“Yes, sir.  I worked on it last night.  I’m sure it will be better than the report that I was planning to write,” she smirked, ignoring CJ who was burrowing deeper into her locker.

She was certain that Mr. Timmons’ limitless patience would crack under a five page report on how confusing Shakespeare was and how the blood on Lady Macbeth’s hands reminded her of the tortured prisoners in Hell.  He didn’t need a thesis on why a person should avoid committing crimes; otherwise, they would be punished.

“I am looking forward to it.  Remember what I told you about making your words and your actions match.  You need to connect with the speech and find the meaning behind the words, and not speed through them, trying to finish.  Lady Macbeth mocks Macbeth for not murdering to obtain what he wants.  She pushes him and tempts him to commit murder by telling him that he is weak and too compassionate.  After the murder, she covers the guards in blood to deceive everyone by making it appear that they are guilty of the murder.  The problem comes when she realizes what she has done and has to live with the consequences of pushing Macbeth to commit a terrible sin.  She can’t see past the blood on her hands, a physical representation of her temptation of Macbeth and of the life that she helped destroy.  Use that, and you will do well in your presentation,” he winked at her and flashed his breathtaking smile.

Michelle smiled and nodded her.  “I will.  Thank you, Mr. Timmons,” she was grateful to have a teacher who supported her.  He was the only teacher she would miss after graduation.

Mr. Timmons nodded and walked down the hallway to his classroom.

CJ rolled his eyes at Michelle and made a gagging noise in the back of his throat.  He never understood what all the girls saw in Mr. Timmons.  He was too old for high school girls.

“Watch yourself around him.  You do realize you are the only one he helps.  Last week I asked him for extra credit on my C- paper and he told me that if he gave me extra credit, then he would have to give everyone extra credit and there would be anarchy.  Two seconds later, he pulled you aside and told you that you didn’t have to write the paper and that you could act it out instead.  He didn’t give anyone else that option,” CJ shook his head and frowned.

“He values his sanity, that’s the only reason he gave me the optional assignment.  He would go insane if he had to read the paper I had drafted,” Michelle shrugged and ignored CJ’s hatred of their English teacher.

“Regardless, I wouldn’t agree to any additional tutoring or special favors from the man.  Trust me when I say he has too much interest in you,” CJ stepped closer to Michelle.  “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Mr. Timmons never struck her as a pervert, though there were times when she noticed him staring at her.  He wasn’t acting creepy, but perhaps, mournful.  He always seemed like he wanted to talk to her about something, but she didn’t get the impression it had anything to do with asking her out.

CJ grabbed his books and walked into homeroom.  He took his seat next to Michelle’s and thumbed through his notebook.  Forgetting his distrust of Mr. Timmons, he went back to his internal debate on how best to help Michelle.  Having nightmares about Hell was not a normal thing, obviously, but he couldn’t convince her to tell anyone.  He wanted her to talk to the guidance counselor or her family, but he knew she would kill him if he betrayed her trust.  It was difficult knowing that if he told someone, she might be cured, but it might cost him their friendship.  He couldn’t lose her, no matter what, so he remained silent and did what he could for her.  She held grudges better than anyone he knew.  He had decided long ago that he would never cross the line and betray her, even if it was for her own good.

He had grown up across the street from her, after moving to New Jersey when he was five.  She was the prettiest girl he had ever seen, though very intimidating.  She had a way of looking at someone, as if she could see straight into their heart and know what kind of person they were.  He always had the impression that she was seeing past what he was saying and looking for the intention behind his words.  Lying to her was almost impossible, though he found he could avoid the truth from time to time.  She had a hard time trusting people and dismissed them quickly, which was helpful since it kept the other guys at bay.  When they tried to ask her out, the words would die in their throats the second she looked directly at them.  The first time it happened, he thought that the stupid freshman had been rendered speechless by her beauty, as often happened to him, but he noticed the kid was shaking.  He realized that her intense stare had made the guy lose his nerve.  The poor kid ran and never spoke to her again.

While he was grateful she drove most of the guys away, he knew it was only a matter of time before one of them got up the guts to see past her icy gaze and ask her out.  He had no idea what he would do when that happened.  Aside from maybe lock the guy in a closet or make sure that his car unexpectedly broke down on the way to her house; he knew he couldn’t keep them away from her forever.

He was happy she trusted him enough to confide in him, but it was a heavy burden.  He loved her with all his heart, but he had no way of making her better.  As accepting of her issues as he was, he hated feeling helpless.  If her problems stemmed from an outside source, like an abusive parent or a crazy stalker, he would punch them and find a way to keep her safe.  Mental issues were not his area of expertise and he hated watching her suffer every day.  He felt like a jerk for wanting to kiss her and hold her when she had so many things to overcome.  There was never a good time to tell her how much he cared about her.

The first time he had met her, he had handed her red gummy worms, his favorite candy, so she would be friends with him.  Instead of eating the gummies, she screamed and ran away.  Once he managed to calm her down, he found out she had nightmares about red worms biting her.  He encouraged her to eat the bad worms and get even with them.  The idea made her smile and they had been friends ever since.

When he had learned how to write, he had started a nightmare journal where he chronicled all the terrible things she saw in the hopes of purging them from her mind.  He was currently on journal number twenty-one.  He always made sure he was calm when she talked about her experiences, even if it terrified him, and caused him to have his own bad dreams.  She was his best friend and he wanted to do anything and everything he could to help, even if it meant holding back his feelings and remaining friends.

Michelle leaned over and tapped CJ on the arm.  “I forgot to tell you, Uncle Bob is coming tonight.  Do you want to stay for dinner?” she was angry with her herself for being able to ask CJ to dinner, but not to Prom.  She felt stupid for being so afraid to tell him the truth.

“Do you even need to ask?  I’ll bring my own fork.  I love your mother’s cooking.  Where has Uncle Bob been this time?  He always brings the most interesting things,” CJ smiled, daydreaming about a homemade dinner.

Uncle Bob was the only person she could relate to in her small family.  He was her only uncle, and more important to her than anyone in the world.  He was a businessman who traveled non-stop.  She and CJ would grill him about his travels and adventures when he found the time to visit.  While he never mentioned specific details about his work, he would tell them about the places he’d visited or the people he’d met.  She wished he could spend more time with her, but sadly, he never stayed more than a few hours before he was called away.  They both believed he was a spy working for the CIA.  CJ thought he might be an assassin, but he didn’t seem the type.  He was warm, caring, and doted on both of them.

“The latest postcard was from Maui, even though the last time I saw him, he said he’d been in Canada.  I’ve learned not to ask,” Michelle said quickly as Mr. Allen started the morning announcements.

CJ took out a piece of paper, quickly scribbled a note, and passed it to Michelle.

Michelle quickly glanced at it already knowing what it would say.

I really think it’s time to tell Uncle Bob.  He will understand.

Michelle’s thoughts were in turmoil as she pictured what it would be like to tell someone else about all the things her deranged mind had done to her over the years.  She didn’t know why she constantly had grisly dreams.  If she had the answer to that question, then she would be able to cure herself.  She knew the doctors would poke her and prod her, looking for answers.  Ultimately, she would be labeled crazy and it would kill her.  She wasn’t sure crazy was actually a condition, but she figured they would come up with some fancy term that made you sound almost normal, but with a slight medical affliction.

It was doubtful that colleges looked favorably on people who had to take medication not to see their own personal version of Hell.  She didn’t want to find out if they had correspondence school in the psych ward.  Angry about the possibility of losing her freedom, she became more dejected.  She didn’t trust anyone not to lock her away, except CJ, and there were days when she wondered if he would rat her out.

Once, when she was little, she tried to tell her mother about a nightmare she’d had about the skin being torn from a man’s body in the Realm of Things with Claws.  Her mother kissed her on her forehead and told her that good little girls shouldn’t tell lies, or stay up late watching movies they shouldn’t be watching.  After that, she learned to muffle her screams and cries into her pillow, while keeping her secret from everyone.

She frantically wrote her response and threw it at CJ.

Connor Jeffries, what is wrong with you?  There is no way I can tell him!  I can’t have him looking at me as if I’m broken.  He sees me for the person that I want to be, not the insane person that I am.  I’d like to keep it that way.  I feel normal when I’m around him.  I can’t ruin that.  I need him to be supportive and loving.