Through Indigo's Eyes (4 page)

In the distance, I heard the bus barreling down the street, so I broke into a run, hitting the bus stop just in time. I trudged up the three steps, showed my pass, and made my way to the back. There were no seats, so I grabbed one of the handrails to keep my balance.

As the bus lumbered down Bank Street (it ran for miles and through tons of different neighborhoods and business sections, finally ending up in downtown Ottawa), my mind traveled as it always did when I was in motion. I thought about the stuff my mother had read to me over the years, in her valiant effort to figure out what was wrong with me. I could get past this thin veil of something that is supposed to lurk out there, and that was why I could actually see the dead—or ghosts, as most people call them—because I can move into the spirit world. I supposedly vibrated at a different frequency than most people. I quickly glanced at everyone on the bus. Why did I have to be different? Did anyone else on this bus have visions?

With my free hand, I gently touched the gold cross and chain that hung around my neck. My parents had given it to me when I was confirmed through the Anglican Church, and sometimes just the smoothness of the gold gave me comfort. I'm not sure I would say I was religious, but I did get some sort of weird protection from simple prayers and my cross necklace. I had been kicked out of Sunday school on a few occasions because of the things I'd said. One time, when the teacher said that after we passed away, we all went to heaven, I innocently said, “But my angels told me that some people stayed on earth, and that's why there are ghosts.” Aggravated, the teacher sent me into the hall for a lecture. She said, “Indigo, angels do not visit little girls like you, they only visit the Men of God, because they are the messengers. Not little children, and especially not you. And there is no such thing as ghosts. You are scaring all the other children in class.”

Yes, there are ghosts.
I could see them, since they often appeared at the end of my bed.

So caressing my gold cross for support made no sense but then little in my life did.

My thoughts veered back to Lacey. A dull ache pounded my chest and kept pounding. It was as if her pain were a part of me, lodged deep in my muscles and bones.

When the bus lurched to a halt at my stop, I moved to the door along with all the other Ridgemont students, none of whom I knew, so I lowered my head and got off. Then I strolled slowly to the school's front entrance; Lacey's locker stood beside mine, and I had no desire to face her, since I now had such horrible news about Burke and Amber. If I took my time to get to school, the bell would ring. Lacey would go to class, and I could avoid her.

As I plodded along, I stared at the majestic maples and oaks, enthralled with how the leaves could turn from green to shades of red, orange and gold in just days. Fall was an amazing time of year in Ottawa, and it was a seasonal ritual to drive across the bridge to Gatineau in Quebec to see the colorful trees, because the valley view was absolutely stunning. Lookout places situated along the winding road drew people from all over the world to visit and take photos of the mesh of colors that made one beautiful collage. I had only ever lived in Ottawa, the capital city of Canada. With all the federal money, litter was kept to a minimum, and Ottawa was labeled as the biggest white-collar city in Canada. Not that I cared about that, except it gave my dad a job downtown, where he worked with our National Defense as a mediator between the government and his union. He went to work in a suit every day, which he liked.

To me, Ottawa was home and a great city because all the heritage buildings and history gave it character. Since it was so old, many homes and businesses were made of stone and brick. Plus, there were the magnificent Parliament buildings downtown, near the Ottawa River and the Rideau Canal. But I only liked them for their stone walls and steeples and the Peace Tower Carillon, with its many bells that rang out the time. In other words, all the outside stuff, because inside they were haunted. And I mean really haunted. Every time I went close to them, I just couldn't go inside, even though they drew tons of international visitors. I had gone in only once and never made it past the front entrance.

Almost at my school, I saw the cops milling around the front entrance, leashes in hands, holding the drug-sniffing dogs that were about to walk the halls. Graffiti decorated the brick walls. I sighed. So much for enjoying the beautiful fall day. Back to reality.

High school had been a disappointment for me—not a place I enjoyed. If only I could go to the land of the Jim Henson's
Labyrinth
and be a warrior.
Labyrinth
was my favorite movie, and I loved how the heroine in the movie fought her way through the labyrinth to save her baby brother. There were days when I wished I could do something heroic, like use my sword to fight through all the knights at the Parliament buildings and rescue the poor people who were chained in cages and tormented by ghosts. I knew all too well what it was like to be tormented by ghosts.

I jumped when I heard a harsh voice behind me. “Indigo Russell, stop daydreaming. You'll be late for class, just like your brother.”

I turned to see the vice principal of the school. Under my breath, I cursed Brian. Why did I have to be labeled because of him? His reputation had followed me for my full high school experience. I moved quickly into the school.

“Hey, Indie,” said Lacey, when I approached my locker. She had her locker open and was looking in her little mirror, putting on lipstick, unaware that she too was late for class. “Did you get your math homework done?”

“Yeah.” I nodded but didn't make eye contact. “But you know I'm not great at math.” I unlocked my locker and opened the door. At times like this, I wished I had a mirror in my locker, too, but I didn't, so I pretended to pull out books.

She smacked her lips together, then looked at me, and I had to glance at her and smile at least a little. As usual, her dark, brown eyes danced and glimmered. She was happy to be here. When you were popular, high school was fun.

She had thick, curly, shiny, chocolate-colored hair and almond-shaped brown eyes. I had iron-straight, white-blonde hair and blue eyes. Plus, she was tall and willowy, and I had inherited my dad's short legs. She was a school athlete, and I was just a wannabe rocker who was in a band but had allowed it to die off just because.

“I don't care. Can I copy? Please. I just need to show I did it.” She moaned. “I had volleyball practice last night, then …” She raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows up and down. “I went out with Burke.” She leaned toward me and whispered, “We almost had sex. I swear it will be next time.”

Breathe, Indie, breathe.
Sex with Burke would have been wrong for Lacey, especially if he was cheating with Amber.

“Sure,” I replied. “To the homework, that is.”

“You are the best friend ever.” She paused to flick her hair that moved like undulating waves around her shoulders.

“Yeah, right,” I said.

She looked at me and laughed. “What's up with you?” She played with the best friend silver necklace I had given her for her birthday last year. Then her eyes widened, and she said, “Hey, there's a big party happening this Friday. You should go. I can't ‘cause I have a tournament, but you should go for sure.” She leaned toward me and whispered, “I heard John might be there.”

And just like that, my throat closed up, making it hard for me to breathe. Sweat dripped on my neck and chest and pooled under my arms, and my cheeks scorched with heat.

I chortled loudly, probably too loudly, to mask my awkwardness. “Yeah, okay,” I said. “And what do I do, just show up by myself?”

“You could go with Burke. Just for your entrance. Then you can, uh, y'know, put the moves on John.” Lacey did a little shake with her shoulders.

“I don't have any moves,” I mumbled.

“Don't look now, but here he comes,” she whispered.

My face flushed, and my nerve endings fizzed.

“Hey, John,” said Lacey.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice thick, smooth, like maple syrup. Then he slowly added, “Hi, Indie.”

I glanced at him through lowered eyelids and tried to smile. “Hi.”

He gazed at me, longer than he did at Lacey, and his look penetrated my skin right to my bones. I couldn't avert my gaze and instead was mesmerized by his hazel eyes. There was this denseness to his pupils that I couldn't see through. I liked that feeling of not knowing. It made me feel normal.

But then, just like a light being switched off, he walked away, leaving me standing in the hallway like an idiot.

A big wad of something slid from my stomach to my throat, and I had to cough to catch my breath. My heart ticked, and I could feel it beating through my chest. My body trembled as I watched him walk down the hall, captivated by the sound of his crazy flip-flops smacking the floor, of his too-long jeans sweeping the dirty gray tiles, making swishing sounds. He didn't strut like Burke, but he had a distinct movement, like a James Dean lope, his long legs striding forward, his arms hanging loose by his sides, his sharp shoulders squared and uniform. And he wore those crazy flip-flops almost all year long. Who did that? John. John did that. He did everything that was different, and that was why I was breathing as if I'd just run a cross-country race. He pulled a book from the pouch of his sweatshirt and started to read as he walked. I wondered what he was reading.

Poetry?

Something philosophical?

Something profound and riveting?

“Did you
see
him look at you?” Lacey whispered. “You have got to go to that party, Indie.”

I stood stock-still for a brief moment, unable to speak. I had to let my heart rate lower before I even attempted any words. No one wore plain sweatshirts with no logos to school but John. Logos were status. He didn't care about status. He had the confidence to be himself. He kept his head bowed as he read but didn't bump into a single person.

I turned and faced Lacey. “You're right,” I said. “I
have
to go. Will Burke want to go with me, though?” Enough was enough; I had to make my move. If I didn't, high school would be over and … I shook my head. I couldn't think like that.

Then a thought hit me. Perhaps if I went with Burke, I could also stop him from cheating on Lacey. I would have another reason to be at the party, instead of just to see John.

I needed purpose to give me courage.

“Why not? He likes you. Thinks you're funny,” said Lacey.

I laughed to appear normal. “You're kidding, right? I'm never funny.”

Lacey laughed. “Yeah, you are. You're funny because you think you're not. Who else can lip-synch and play air guitar like you?” She held out her hand. “You let me copy, and I'll get Burke to take you to the party.”

 

Chapter Three

As Lacey had promised, Burke picked me up on Saturday night. Normally, this is something that I would have tried to avoid, but since I didn't know where the party was, and Lacey had already set it up, I had no choice. I would suck it up and try to make conversation with Burke.

He knocked on the door, and I stepped outside and shivered. In the summer, the heat of the day carried into the night, but not in the fall. In the day, it could be beautiful and hot, T-shirt weather, but at night, a jacket was necessary. I did up the snaps on my jean jacket. Burke, of course, wore his Ottawa 67's logoed black hockey jacket, complete with name and position emblazoned on the sleeve, team logo on the front, and team name in letters on the back.

Once in the car, I did up my seat belt and asked, “How's your hockey team doing?” I knew enough about hockey to ask a few, hopefully correct, questions. To live in Ottawa and not be a fan of the Ottawa Senators NHL team was almost a crime, according to my dad and Brian and, well, the rest of the people in Ottawa. When Dad and Brian droned on about the Senators, Mom and I would roll our eyes, smile, and start our own conversation.

“Great,” replied Burke as he backed out of my driveway. “We're six and oh.”

“Meaning?” Okay, so I didn't know that much.

Burke glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “We've won six games and lost none.”

I nodded. Why would he think I would know something like
that
?

We drove down my street and turned onto Bank. I glanced out the window, and we drove by a community arena, which resembled a big old barn. In our town, indoor hockey arenas sat on every corner, and once the temperature dipped below zero, the outdoor community hockey rinks were as common as the golden McDonald's arches. In the winter, kids played outside on frozen ice rinks until they couldn't feel their toes in their skates because it was such a
Canadian
thing to do. Believe me, I was never one of those kids. And the hockey player boys at school did nothing for me. Like Burke. Sure, I liked him and thought he was good-looking, but I preferred a guy who wore flip-flops instead of skates. A guy like John. He was puzzling and intelligent and always deep in thought and had long, thin legs instead of huge, muscular thighs like the hockey boys had. My body tingled, hoping he would be at the party. What would I say to him? Would he talk to me?