Unhinged (6 page)

Just as he reaches the first step to the
stairs leading down to the parking lot, he almost runs into a girl
and her mother entering the same building he is so desperate to
vacate. He is precious seconds away from a safe place where he can
ride out this latest bout of necessary agony that is certain to
devour him. As he passes, the young girl is mumbling as she looks
up into nothingness above her and scratches at an invisible wall. A
quick look down at her hands confirms his suspicions; her fingers
are bloody stumps from digging her way to a place that exists only
in her mind.

David smiles as he walks away, elated by
recent events. It is high time this place became unhinged.

Chapter
Seven

~ Fragile Minds ~

I am released back to class about an hour
after the incident in Madame Primm’s room. It took about that long
for me to feel normal again. Before I was sent on my way, I was
given clothes to change into, since mine were covered in blood. I
now sit in math class, listening to the teacher drone on and on
about something that has to do with algebra, but I’m not really
listening. Doesn’t matter if I listen or not, I still won’t
understand why someone wants to try and find the value of x. But
here the teacher is, trying to get us to find it, despite “x”
having been found by students repeatedly for hundreds of years. No
one ever needs to go in search for hell on earth. Just come to
school and go to math class and you’ve found it.

Luckily, the next period is lunch, so I go
and sit at our usual table in the cafeteria and wait for Logan and
Dejana to join me. I know Dejana is alright and that she made it
out of Primm’s class okay before all hell broke loose, but I still
want to know that she’s safe and sound.

I sit nervously on the edge of my seat as I
wait, anxious as to what catastrophe could possibly occur next.
These last few days have been nothing but crisis after crisis, with
people going crazy all around me, and all I can do is watch. The
rumors fly around me in the cafeteria. Some say that people are
going crazy due to a virus. Others go further to speculate that
maybe it’s some kind of biological weapon that is making these
people do things they wouldn’t normally do. I honestly don’t think
anyone has a clue as what is really causing all the havoc. As for
me, I really don’t care what the hell is causing all this crap to
happen. I am more afraid of who the crazy will attack next.

I’m so engrossed in trying to hear the
different conversations around me that I don’t see Logan’s friend
Brett until he sits right next to me in Logan's usual seat. I lean
back, startled, but not necessarily scared. I have actually known
Brett for as long as I have been at this school. He’s been in
multiple classes with me each year. He always says hello to me, but
I never acknowledge it. Brett is more Logan’s friend. He’s an
athlete too, so most of the time he is wearing some type of Nike
shirt with jeans or sports shorts. Today is no exception.

Brett has turned the chair around, straddling
it to face me. His tight fitting blue jeans are stretched taut,
showing off his muscular legs from years of sprinting. His white
short-sleeved t-shirt has some kind of Nike logo drawn wide across
his broad chest, and his hair is cut short these days, just like
Logan’s. It must be a requirement of the baseball team.

He’s sitting there with his arms crossed over
the top of the chair, staring at me like he's waiting for me to say
something. His lips are upturned and there is a glint in his eye
that makes me feel like he is amused by something, but I have no
idea what. Nor do I know why he's here—I have never given him any
indication that we were friends.

I push my chair back a bit, more out of habit
than fear. He leans forward in his seat to make up the distance,
and a devilish smile appears on his face. What is he up to, I
wonder? And where the hell are Dejana and Logan? This shit is
getting more uncomfortable by the second. I look around frantically
for either of my friends to come and save me, but all I see around
me are conversing strangers. I look back at Brett and decide the
only thing truly threatening about him is his sexy smile. So, I
finally take the bait. Besides, it’s the fastest way to get him
gone.

“Um, hey there,” I say awkwardly as he
continues to stare and smile at me. What the hell is he up to? He’s
acting like he wants to talk to me, but he isn’t saying anything.
Why the hell are people acting so weird at this school lately?

Finally, his light blue eyes break contact
with mine and he chuckles at my obvious discomfort. Crap, even his
laugh is sexy.

“So, I hear you had a little trouble this
morning,” he states right out of the box without even a hello. “Too
bad that’s the one class this year we don’t have together. I could
have helped. Anyway, I saw Logan was running late and I just wanted
to check and see that you were okay,” he finishes, his deep voice
serious and sincere.

I look him up and down, questioning his
motives. Having one boy’s attention is already extremely unusual.
Having two boys pay attention to me: mission impossible.

“Yep, I’m cool, thanks,” I say, hoping that
will suffice. When he doesn’t make a move to leave, I sigh loudly
and put my head in my hands. I am just not emotionally strong
enough to deal with this right now. I peek through my fingers a bit
before raising my head, hoping to see that Brett has conceded
defeat and left, but what I see completely unnerved me.

His expression, completely unguarded since he
thought I wasn’t looking, is one of desperation. He seems tortured
and his eyes have a hint of sadness to them. His face, once a
mosaic of confidence and sexiness, has aged ten years in just a few
seconds. Thinking that
I
am the one going nuts now, I rub my
eyes and shake my head to clear it. When I look again, the ‘I’m so
sexy’ smile has returned to Brett’s face, and the infamous
confidence I see when he talks to girls in class is again present.
His smile falters a bit as I study him, but his face is otherwise
carefree and young. His expression is the same as every other
teenager in the world, happy go lucky. If only we were all so
blessed.

After what seems like an eternity, I finally
see Dejana coming towards the table with a few of her friends
beside her. I look back at Brett, but he is already up and throwing
his book bag back onto his shoulder, getting ready to head off. He
starts to turn around and head out, but stops suddenly to whisper
something in my ear.

“Until later my dark princess,” he murmurs
before disappearing into the mob that is the cafeteria at
lunchtime. Okay, now I’m certain that I’m going crazy because I am
pretty sure I heard him call me his dark princess. Befuddled, I sit
there with my mouth agape, contemplating how in the hell he could
think I am
his
dark princess when we haven’t spoken two
words to each other. Shit, I really am going crazy. I’m hearing
things, which is probably the first stage of a complete and total
meltdown.

From my left, I hear Dejana’s voice. I look
over, mouth still open, and see Dejana speaking with her friends. I
know it’s about what happened this morning because Dejana is
talking with her hands and she only does that when she's agitated.
Besides, that is all
anyone
is talking about today.

I wait for her friends to do their usual turn
towards their table across the cafeteria from us when something
unexpected happens: they all turn and head straight towards me.
Damn, was there a text or something sent out today that told
everyone to speak to me? Or is this the second damn stage of going
crazy? Panicked, I feel trapped, unsure whether to embrace fight or
flight. Embracing my lifelong habit of evading people, I decide
that flight is my best option. Alas, sadly, I am too late. Dejana
catches me before I can make a run for it.

“Aimee,” says Dejana, a hint of warning in
her voice. “I was just telling Julia that you would let her know
how her friend Kelly is doing. You know, the one that was with
Brandon when it all went down this morning?” she finishes with a
deadly look in her eyes that dare me to run away.

I look over at Julia, her green eyes are
cautious, yet determined to find out about her friend. Her right
hand grasps the handle of her backpack while the left tucks her
hair behind her ear every few seconds. I can’t remember when I’ve
seen anyone so nervous. I wonder if the cause is all this
craziness, or just plain old me? Either way, I don’t want her here
anymore than she does.

“Kelly is fine. She wasn’t hurt at all, just
stunned by seeing firsthand what happened to Brandon. An older
teacher came in and calmed her down. Last I saw, she left with Dr.
Morgan, but she was fine.”

At once, Julia stops fidgeting and relaxation
overtakes her features. She smiles curtly before walking away, her
entourage in tow. Oh well, I didn’t want a thank you anyway. I
practically fall down into my seat, exhausted from today’s events.
Next to me, I hear Dejana’s butt hit her seat as well. At first,
neither of us says anything; perhaps because there is
too
much to say and neither of us knows where to start.

“Wow, what a day,” Dejana exclaims after a
few minutes, fatigue evident in her voice.

I couldn’t agree more. I want to tell her
that everything is going to be alright, give her some sort of
comfort that our classmates going crazy is just a freak incident,
but nothing comes out of my mouth. I honestly don’t know what’s
wrong with these people or what is driving them to commit these
unspeakable acts of malice. Judging from the events that just
occurred in the cafeteria, I may be next. But I am sure as hell not
going to mention any of that to Dejana. Suddenly, an idea hits
me.

I turn to Dejana. “Hey, you want to get out
of here?” I ask, every fiber of my being screaming to just fall
into bed.

She pretends to mull over it for a minute,
debate the consequences of ditching school, and being AWOL. I can
tell from the twinkle in her eye it isn’t much of a deliberation.
“Absolutely,” she agrees, nodding her head for emphasis. “After
what we have both been through today, I don’t think one soul would
blame us.”

“Agreed,” I say roughly, grateful to get out
of this hell hole that has become a cesspool of wackiness. We pick
up our book bags and get ready to head out the door when I stop and
remember the one thing I should never forget.

“What about Logan?” I wonder. “Should we wait
for him and see if he wants to come with us?”

“Probably not,” responds Dejana. “You know
he’d never leave or he’d get into big trouble with Coach Kutter.
They might even sit out their star player for a game, which would
devastate him and all the girls that go to see him play,” she
mocks.

I mull over waiting for him as I look around
the cafeteria hoping to see him heading our way. I finally concede
that he isn’t coming. I’m sure he just got held up with a friend or
a baseball coach.

“We can just text him when we are on our way
and he can meet us later. How does that sound?” asks Dejana.

“Fine,” I reply, my uneasiness about Logan’s
safety growing. “But let’s text him from the car, I’d like to know
that he’s okay before I get home.”

“Deal,” agrees Dejana as we make our way out
the set of four doors that lead to the student parking lot. We are
both smiling now, grateful that the fog of misery and uncertainty
is being left behind us with each step we take to freedom.

* * * *

Luckily, the ride to my house from school is
a pretty short one. We drive with the windows down to let the sixty
degree wind blow through our hair. Georgia weather can be
unpredictable, but the best part of living here is the intermittent
spring day you can get at any time. Even if it is still supposed to
be winter. Dejana and I don’t talk much. I guess we figure if we
talk about what happened in Madame Primm’s class, it will make it
more real than it already is for us. So, we ride silently together,
singing Pink’s latest song on the radio.

Within minutes, we pull into my driveway. I
am emotionally exhausted, which is worse than anything I have ever
felt. I could work out for two hours and still not be this bone
tired. I am so distracted by my weariness that at first I don’t
notice what is off about my front yard. Dejana pulls her car in,
then stops abruptly. She catches on faster than I do to the
strangeness that lies before us.

“Aimee?” she asks as she grips the steering
wheel so hard both her hands turn white. “Is that Mary’s car over
there parked by the willow tree just outside your front door?”

I rub my eyes, sure that I’m dreaming, but
clear as day there is Mary’s silver Prius parked at an angle on the
grass near the front door. It’s like she was in a hurry to get
inside. But why not just open the garage door and go in that way?
It sure as hell would have been nicer for the front lawn. At first,
I’m intrigued rather than panicked, but as the moments go on, all
sorts of strange pictures fill my head. Before long, all I can see
is Mary held prisoner by some unknown assailant in the house.

Unnerved, I jump out of the car, Dejana right
on my heels. I run around the Prius and fly up the front stairs to
try the door. My breath catches in my throat—it’s open. Mary would
never forget to lock the door behind her. She is borderline
paranoid about the dangers lurking in dark corners. I slowly push
open the door. My heart is beating so fast I feel like my chest is
going to burst. Behind me, Dejana whispers, “Be careful,” as we
make our way into the house.

The foyer and living room are dark. The only
light in the house is coming from the kitchen as it leaks through
the crack underneath the door. The eerie glow seeps into my
thoughts, creating all sorts of horrid scenarios that I can’t seem
to push out of my mind. I approach the kitchen door, afraid to
touch it, fearing a bomb lies behind it ready to go off any minute.
Every fiber of my being tells me not to open the door, that I won’t
like what I find behind it, but fear for Mary’s safety compels me
forward.