Cursed
Book One of the Devil's Roses
A novel By Tara Brown
Copyright 2012 Tara Brown
http://TaraBrown22.blogspot.com/
Smashwords Edition
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
You are welcome to share this book with friends but please do not post or archive it without permission.
No alteration of content is permitted.
This book is a work of fiction, any similarities are coincidental.
This book contains materials not suited for people under the age of 18.
This series is dedicated to my fans, thank you so much. The interest and support has been amazing. I also must thank my husband and children. You supported me even when I was in my writer's frenzy.
I have enjoyed writing this series and hope you've enjoyed reading as much.
Thank You Nick J (sexiest editor ever, most efficient no, but in uniform yes)
Other books by Tara Brown
Bane - (Book #2 of The Devils Roses)
Hyde - (Book #3 of The Devils Roses)
****
Prologue
The heels of her boots clicked with every strike against the cold soaked cement, as she rounded the corner, never taking her eyes from him. His outdated pleather jacket gave him away from the three blocks distance between them. She never would have noticed it before, but diversions were a necessity and fashion seemed like a reasonable one.
In overconfidence he never looked behind him. He never imagined he was being followed. His instincts lied to him, allowing for a false sense of security, as is common with the fiercest animals in the forest.
She fingered the platinum ring on her right middle finger with her thumb. The small band had a thin red line running through the middle of it. On the under side of the ring sat a rose. The ring was her mark, it was her badge. It permitted her to follow the man. It made her brand of deadly force acceptable.
Foolishly, his seedy way of life led him down a dark alley. She grimaced, wondering if perhaps he was looking for his next victim. She winked her right eye flashing directly in front of him. He didn’t have time to respond and change into a worthy adversary, she had his arm within seconds.
Sweet time stilled for her.
It made every moment crystal clear, as her senses heightened for the feast. She lifted him into the air. Gasping, she let her bare hands make contact with the warm fleshy meat of his arm. His eyes shot to the ring on her finger, recognition and fear spread across his face, "You're a Rose."
His last words.
She shivered eagerly, feeling her fingers lick at the essence flowing through his body. The satisfaction filled her like a rich chocolate bar, melting into her taste buds. It sent chills through her arms where the fire soothed her hunger.
“Stop!” a man's voice echoed through the alley.
The fire went out.
She dropped the dead man to the cold ground as the tingle cut off. She didn’t like ending her meal that way. She licked her lips, wondering if her eyes were still glowing like molten steel from her feast. She looked down the alley, to where a policeman stood with his gun drawn. She observed the way his hands shook with the sizable gun in them, she smirked knowing it was from lack of confidence. He was clearly new to the force. She knew the feeling.
“Stay where you are.” His voice never wavered, but she could sense the fear coming off him. It was a scent that rode on the winds, as if searching out her nose. His voice was familiar. Panic filled her. She knew him.
He squinted, no doubt from the confusion of her still glowing eyes and the possibility he recognized her too.
She smiled raising her hands, “Run his prints and you’ll thank me.” He wasn’t an innocent, the Roses did have rules about that sort of thing.
He walked toward her slowly, assessing the alley and the danger, “Get down on the ground.”
She shook her head, “Really, really would you lie on this street? This alley is filthy with germs and God only knows what else.”
A gust of wind blew past him, bringing with it a scent like laundry soap and deodorant with a subtle mix of windblown sea air. She would know that smell anywhere. She looked around for an exit, beyond her usual one. She couldn't just vanish in front of him.
His smell was the soundtrack to her youth and innocence. His was the only true love she had ever known.
His face started to light up under the lone streetlight in the alley, that clearly the cities budget had forgotten.
She gulped, pushing down her feelings. She felt frozen in panic but also desperate to see him. Just one glance of him would fill her for the next hundred years.
He looked at her frowning in disbelief, “You, you’re the one? That's not possible.”
She could see the raw emotion on his face. His lower lip trembled, no doubt followed by his entire body.
She took a step back putting her hands out, “Just pretend you never saw me, the medics will say heart attack.”
He shook his head, “No, not you.” His face twisted in pain, “Anyone but you. Why?”
She blinked, slowly remembering every second of their time together. She crammed it into a memory slot.
Every touch.
Every smile.
They had become her play-list when the burn in her chest grew unbearable. Only those little moments could sooth her.
She inhaled sharply, turning her heart off and spoke flatly, “I have to eat, they make sense.”
He looked sickened, “You’re eating them? How? They have no marks. None of the others had marks.”
She looked down, ashamed momentarily. She wanted to explain. She wanted to be that girl, his girl. She wanted to be sitting on the back steps of his house, listening to his dreams. Instead she turned, jumping onto the handrail of the stairs next to her and climbed the fire escape.
She ran up the stairs before he could register she was leaving. She could still smell his fear but it had switched, it was a different kind of fear. The kind that broke her already tattered and abused heart. His fear of losing her again filled the air with his screams. She felt the tears rolling as she listened to him shout her name, but she never stopped. She ran to the top of the building desperate to get away.
Before…
Chapter One: Love and Drugs change everything
“Aimee?”
I looked up from my pages of scribbles, confused. Sometimes that happened. It never used to.
I needed a moment to recognize not only where I was, but also who was speaking to me.
I had let my daydream take me again.
“Aimee?”
I looked at the front of the class recognizing the glare Miss Simms, my English teacher, was giving me. It was the look she gave all the bad kids, I realize the PC term is ‘challenged youth’ but my sister is one of them, I'm not fooled. The only challenges in their idiotic world were of their own making. I looked at the board behind her, remembering what we had been doing, Twelfth Night.
“Aimee what is the theme Shakespeare is trying to hide beneath the themes we easily see?” She asked as if trying to trick me.
I nodded, “Beyond the obvious themes of the folly in ambition and the uncertainty of gender. He, as he always did, liked to use the theme of love as a means to suffering as if it were a weapon. Twelfth Night is only one of many of his plays, if not in all of them where this theme is present.”
And there it was, the difference between myself and the ‘challenged youth’. She wasn’t used to catching me lost in space.
I might have scribbled. I might have gazed out the window. I might have gotten lost in a few moments of lonely daydreams, but no matter what I was a nerd. Even if I didn’t have the answer, I could easily make one up.
She smirked, “Nice answer, pay attention.”
I nodded, but continued my scribbled flower garden. I felt someone’s gaze upon me.
My eyes darted to the right. The eyes upon me took my breath away. He always took it away. His sweet smile, sandy blond, purposely-messy hair and sexy grin, always made my heart do a little flip. Even then, when my poor heart was covered by at least a mile of frost and snow.
He nodded at me, “Nice answer.”
I felt my face heating up under his scrutiny, as Miss Simms rattled on passionately about the themes I’d given her.
His grin made me surface, not many things made me surface.
I felt the classroom around me suddenly grow brighter, as I stared foolishly at him watching me. His gaze had remained far too long.
Once I had wanted him. Once I believed in love. Once in land far far away, before the real world destroyed all my happiness and hope, I had been a girl with a dream. I had dreamt about him asking me out. I had fumbled my words around him. I had gotten lost in sentences when he walked by. I had even forgotten my name watching him.
“I might need a tutor.” He whispered at me from his seat.
I smirked feeling my breath grow hot suddenly, “It’s too late for you Shane, year's almost up.”
He laughed softly, making the smile that had once been my food. My sister turned around sharply and blew him a kiss. He raised his eyebrows at her and nodded. The bell saved me, as Miss Simms shouted homework and other things at us. I grabbed my books and fled from the class and the spectacle of my sister's inappropriate make out session, with the boy I loved.
I hurried along to my locker. My hands fumbled with the lock. When I got it open, I stood inside the safety of the locker door. With my face shielded, I took deep breaths. Arguments filled my head, convincing me of things I didn’t really believe. Things like Shane had flirted with me.
“Aimee.” I panicked. I took my last deep breath and closed the small metal door, smiling up at him nervously, “Hey.”
Why had he followed me to my locker?
He took a step toward me. I backed up a step. He put a hand on my closed locker taking another step closer, as if blocking my path, “I was wondering if you were going to come to my party this weekend?”
“What?”
He looked down at me in a way I’d never seen before, “Aimee you haven’t been to a party all year, its senior year.” His eyes grew serious, “You’re going away to university and who knows how long before we see each other again. You know all of us.”
I stuttered, “uh, uh, uh, n-no. Probably not coming but thanks for the invite.” I was lost in the conversation. I wanted to jump up and down and shout 'YE'S to the whole student body. I wanted to go to his party. I wanted him to continue staring at me the way he was.
However I knew, a night spent watching my sister chew on his face would kill what tiny spark of life was left in me.
"Please." His blue eyes sparkled.
I shook my head and turned away. I ran/walked as fast as I could. I needed space from him before I just grabbed his face and did what I'd always dreamt of, kiss his soft looking lips. I could never break my sisters heart, even if I doubted she had one. I shook my heads, arguing with myself. I wouldn’t do that to her, even thought I knew she didn’t even really like him. She called him Plain Shane when he wasn’t there.
Why did he want me to come to his party?
I shut my brain off before I spent my day thinking about him. It couldn’t be helped, he was so sexy and sweet. He didn’t belong with my sister, she didn’t like him for the right reasons. She liked that he was popular and his life was filled with drama. She thrived on drama.
Gahh, I was thinking about him.
I avoided my mom's spot and took the bus home. I didn’t want her to see me crushing on my sister's boyfriend, even though my mom would have understood. She knew I had loved him since I was old enough to understand boys and girls were not the same thing.
When I got home my dad was in his office closed up tight. He was starting to become a hermit. I wasn’t certain how vacation and bereavement leave worked in the real world, but I assumed eight months of not really trying to show to work was bad. I grabbed a yogurt and went to my room to study.
I fell asleep instead of studying.
****
The dream was the same every time, the city stunk of decay and ruin was all around me. Masses of people cried out in agony, searching for their loved ones. A disaster had hit and destroyed everything in a moment. I looked in every direction, but through all the pain and suffering all I saw was his face. He stood so near to me, breathing me in. I wanted to touch him, I loved him so severely.
My father’s hands reached out to me, like he was my knight in shining armor trying to save me. He called out, he wanted me away from the man in front of me. I didn’t understand why.
I stuck my hand out to take his hand. I looked back at my love and realized my father was sticking his hand out to save him and not me at all.
My father looked at me cautiously, urging him to get away from me. I turned my back on my father and stepped closer to the man I loved, smiling at him.
My mom screamed and the world shattered into a million pieces. I felt the warmth and realness of his face, so close to mine, for just a second. I knew somehow the disaster was my fault.
I heard someone calling and looked up to the sky full of debris, “Wake up Aimee." I knew the soft voice. It was my mom who whispered to me.
I woke startled, feeling my own embrace and the beads of sweat that soaked me.
I had fallen asleep in my clothes again. I sat upright for a moment pulling my sweater off, feeling the night’s cool air brush against me softly.
I looked around dazed, expecting to see someone. I had been certain voices had woken me. Perhaps it really had been my mom trying to talk to me. I rolled on my back, as I slipped off my jeans and pulled the blankets around me. The enveloping darkness was a warm comfort inside my bed.
I fell back to sleep, dreaming of him again. In the new dream I floated, staring at my parents smile. I was unable to touch the ground and unable to fly away. I floated in limbo, watching them.
****
The breakfast table the next morning felt grim as I contemplated my dreams, though I remembered very little. I didn’t have the garden-variety teenage girl dreams anymore. Nothing about my life in eight months had been garden variety, tragedy had struck.
I felt myself get lost for an eternity, within a second. I fought with myself as I remembered our families worst moment.
My mom had died.
I was walking home from school, the long way. I felt a warm wind hit me. I looked around at the swaying trees and branches. I thought briefly, it must be the Santa Ana winds from California coming up the coast. I shivered at exactly the same moment my cell phone rang. Everything went very slowly, I pulled out my phone and answered. My twin sister screamed into the phone. My legs ceased to exist as I crumpled on the side of the road.
My soul literally made an attempt at leaving me, as my chest felt as though it ripped into a million pieces. I had actual physical pain paralyzing me. For the first time in my life, I felt my hearts exact location. Her death took my breath and my sanity simultaneously. I sat on the cold concrete and rocked back and forth in an attempt to block myself from the truth.
I knew hope was taken from my world. At that moment I didn’t know just how large of a piece it was.
I didn’t know if I would ever recover.
I convinced myself I would be fine as long as I didn’t leave that spot on the road. The spot where I'd felt the warm wind. No doubt it had been my mom brushing against me. It was her one last time to tell me how much I was loved. Of this I was certain.
My father found me on the side of the road. He left the truck running in the middle of the street as he ran to my side. He sat there with me. I had rocked back and forth for hours on the gravel and concrete, while he had searched for me. When he finally found me, I was numb and devoid of every feeling. I knew if I acknowledged one pain, I would have to face the other.
I knew my father was touching me. I refused to feel him as he cried on my shoulder. He shook my body with his sobs. He tried to get me to stand but I rejected his attempts.
I knew nothing was special about that place on the side of the road, on the way home. If I left it I would never again find it. It was the last place my mom had touched me and I needed it.
I looked down at my suddenly mushy cereal and played with the mound with my spoon. Like every morning, I tried to smile. I tried imagining my mom and how she would smile when she told a joke. She always ended up laughing too hard to finish.
I wanted to smile at the happy memory I forced myself to see. However the previous sad memory was blocking my brain from sending signals to my lips.
I didn’t like to think of such depressing thoughts before breakfast, but that morning seemed to feel worse than most days. I had been certain I was starting to come around but the bad dreams hadn’t helped.
“Earth to Aimee, how does this look?”
I looked up from my lost gaze to see my identical twin, except hair and eyes, frowning at me. She was posing slightly, as she modeled a pair of black leggings with huge grey boots and a silver sweater that hung off her left shoulder.
I rolled my eyes at yet another piece of silver clothing. I wondered where she got them all.
Alise, not Alice, was stunning. Which sucked, because we were complete opposites. Where she had dark black hair and silver eyes like our mom, I had blond and blue. My eyes weren’t even pretty blue, more like grey. It was as if they tried to become silver like my sisters but quit part way.
We shared every other feature, which seemed to work on her. On me it looked uneven and plain. We were both five feet seven inches, one hundred and thirty three pounds.
“You look fine, why do you even care?” I asked with a hint of disapproval, well maybe not a hint.
Alise rolled her eyes and grabbed a banana, “Oh my god Aimee. Mom wouldn’t have wanted us to shrivel up and die inside.”
I flinched at her saying the 'mom' word as if she was giving motherly advice. Seeing the distress on my face, she sighed.
Se tilted her head and continued less harshly, “She’s watching us from heaven and she’s going to worry about you if you don’t snap out of it. You’re going to disappoint her by not living not the opposite”
I gave her my best blank stare, which made her storm out the door to her car.
Alise's words stung, not only did the double negative bother me, but I hated that she was right. Even though I knew it, I couldn’t make myself move past what had occurred eight months prior. I felt the walls starting to close in around me as the air got heavy.
I ran up the stairs to my room and dove onto the carpet beside my bed. The carpet rubbed against my elbows harshly, as I fished the secret envelope out from under the bed. Once the treasure was in my hands, I opened it ever so softly. I didn’t want to tear the plastic bag within the manila envelope. I opened the plastic slowly, letting it release its treasure into the air. I held the plastic bag under my nose and let the fragrance fill my nostrils. The sweet smell filled the air around me becoming my oxygen.
The walls started to come down a little, as suddenly I was somewhere else. I was somewhere safe, where the smell of my mom made all the bad feelings small again.
I felt tears threatening me as I began to chant softly, “You existed, you loved me, you existed, you loved me.”
I was grateful the perfume had maintained its strength, thanks to the protective plastic bag. My heart was beating out of my chest but I closed my eyes and let the world stop. I needed to feel her. Even if it was for a moment, she was there. I opened my eyes relieved and closed the bag gently. I put it back in the manila envelope and safely tucked it under my bed again.
I decided on the way back down stairs, I would visit my mom after school and see if I could just get a small feel of her again. Sometimes being at the side of the road where I had been when my mom died made me feel her in the air. It was like a hug sent in a letter, where even though it wasn’t real, the intent made you feel warm just the same. I sat there for hours sometimes talking to her or just being there, where I knew she could sense me too.
Alise honked the horn on the car impatiently at me. I ran down the stairs. My heart warmed slightly to see my sister's frowning face glaring at me through the windshield. She was shouting at me but I ignored her. Instead I took an extra long unnecessary second, to lock the house. It was these small victories that got me through the day.
I never spoke to my sister about our mom. Some days I wanted to. Some days I wanted to say that being a little sad wouldn’t kill her. Or tell her that acting like it had actually impacted her life even remotely wouldn’t make her look weak. If anything it would make her seem more human.
I hated that she had seemed to cruise past our mom’s death like nothing had happened. She cried a modest amount at the funeral on Saturday and shopped with friends on Monday. I had stayed in bed for two weeks. Well until my father threatened calling my grandma to come help me through it. I resented his wanting to be the only one suffering.
I slumped into the seat of my sister's car. I turned away from her, watching the road blur by the window like an impressionist painting left out in the rain. Alise talked in a steady and unyielding stream on her Bluetooth. The whole ride was a series of OMG’s and seriously on both their parts. I often wondered if it was a modern day Morse code.
I had always been painfully shy. Alise was always painfully outgoing, slutty was the words only the truly brave used. I had felt myself withdraw even more in the months since our moms passing.
Our father, like me, mourned quietly to himself, withdrawing to his office pretending to work. We knew he sat there surrounded by a million reminders of her. I too had my own reminders of my mom, like the stolen nightgown and a few other key items. I had locked them away in Ziploc bags and smelled them like a serial killer. I had tried to take her perfume and soap at first, but alone they didn’t smell enough like my mom. Then I stole some clothes that hadn’t been cleaned yet. It was the right mix of her, perfume and soap that mattered. I had kept them under the bed for eight months without anyone seeing. I couldn’t explain my need to smell them, even to myself. So I tried not to think about how creepy it was.
Alise blathered on with her friend Giselle, while I watched out the window waiting for it to start feeling like a regular day again. In eight months I hadn’t been able to get that feeling back.
“Ok girl peace out.” Alise looked at me as she clicked the phone off, “Can you believe that? Jaime is going to freak when she hears that shit.”
I shrugged not answering. Not only did I not know what she was talking about, I didn’t care. Not about my sister or her shallow friends.
Alise groaned as we pulled into the school parking lot, “Aimee if you don’t try to be normal again, well your nerdy normal anyway, they’re going to lock you away for depression. It's going to be in one of those places where the girls don’t shower and all become lesbians.”
I stifled a laugh as she ranted on.
“Like a week ago I heard Mrs. Sinclair talking to the guidance counselor about you. She said some shit about how they are noticing your inability to find happiness again. Dude no one said you have to forget mom but you need to try to still be alive. Besides it's embarrassing having the Emo angst queen as my sister.”
I felt my wall come up even higher, as my emotions tried to make me feel something. Before the car was even fully parked, I was out of the door walking to the school. The cold air washed me free of any lingering effects of my sister’s attempt at reasoning with me. I focused on the asylums full of unkempt lesbians around the country. It made me smile even if it was just a tiny bit.
I crossed the courtyard to my first class, knowing my body was rejecting my sisters reasoning from head to toe. It exhausted me to try that hard to be sad. I had sensed my body wanting and needing a small amount of happiness, but I had fought those emotions and feelings. If I became a happy kid again, I wouldn’t remember how badly it hurt to lose my mom. Some days when I didn’t fight it hard enough, I would catch myself distracted by something that made me smile. I knew it would be the end of my depression, sooner than later.
I coasted through my classes doodling, thinking about the dream I’d had. It had been a repeat, I was certain. I remembered seeing the look on my father's face, it had been fear. I knew my dad was worried about me. He wasn’t one to be pointing fingers. He had seemed to be in a rough patch and hadn’t really come out of his office, except to ground Alise every other day. She swore up and down she had caught him sitting in his walk-in closet under mom's dresses and clothes. He was reaching up touching the bottoms of them.
The bell rang for lunch before I realized I had even gone to a second period class. I looked down at the homework assignment I had written, amazed it was a coherent sentence. I picked up my books and slipped from the class, not making eye contact with anyone.
“Aimes wait up.” A voice called me from down the hall.
The voice belonged to my bff. He was the only person who seemed to be able to see me past my sadness. I knew one day I would snap out of it and resurface because Blake still saw me. I was confident that if I ever got too lost in my pool of despair, he would reach his hand in and pull me up. I stopped walking and turned to see Blake almost stumbling up the stairs to my locker. He was not handsome in a traditional way; he was tall and thin but not skinny. His blue eyes stood out against his dark hair. However thick glasses and constant looking down muted the color of his eyes. He was always stuck in a book or iPhone or itouch or chess game.
He rarely made eye contact with other people, except me. I was his best friend and the only person able to beat him in chess. Well and Mr. Mac our chem teacher, who held the chess club meetings.
“Hey Blake.” The words left my mouth softly, I thought for certain he hadn’t been able to hear them.
He smiled at me barely looking up from his iphone, “You look like shit today Aimee. Enough with the black already.”
He was probably the only person able to make that comment and make a smile cross my lips. It felt unnatural for me, but I left it there anyway.
“I like black.” I tried to be serious, as I closed my locker and we started to walk. I felt a small piece of myself come back whenever he was around.
He shook his head as he looked me straight in the face, “No you don’t and you're starting to look like one of the Goths. It’s hard to hang in the nerd crowd when you scare the nerds. We scare easily.” He walked forward and opened the door to the cafeteria for me.
I shook my head, “I’m in mourning Blake and it’s a full year before we wear colors again.”
He laughed, “That’s for widows in the eighteen hundreds. I miss you in spring colors and shorts. I really miss you having color on your skin. I miss your eyes how they used to sparkle now they’re dull like fish eyes. When that Aimee comes back I think I’ll have a party.” My heart made a little skip.
I tried to stop it but couldn’t. My heart disobeyed me and skipped for Blake, a little.
I walked through the door laughing, “Who will come?”
He smiled revealing the whitest teeth ever; it was an actual OCD for him. I knew that I could reach into his pocket at any given moment of the day and find floss.
“The chess club, matheletes, obviously us science geeks and actually I really like the kids at the newspaper. They’re not as smart as we are but they know politics and a lot of them believe the CT’s Aimee and I have to respect that.”
I laughed again even though it hurt my side to do it, my laughing muscles had grown soft and weak over the past winter. Blake believed in CT’s, Conspiracy Theories. He believed nothing the media wrote. Well unless they were students in university still or working for some low budget paper, that relied on a mailing list as opposed to general publication for the masses.
He smacked me in the arm frowning, “Dude did you see the Facebook posts coming off my mom lately?” I smiled at him calling me dude. I shook my head as he took off on a tangent.
“Clearly people don’t get the whole, it's for connecting or reconnecting with people, its not twitter. My mom has what she ate for lunch yesterday, she has that she went to her yoga class, she has that she bought a new bra and for her friends to check that store out. WTF dude, like what the hell. I told her that from now on I’m posting everything I do in a day.”
His face was red as he ranted, I loved his rants.
“I told her tomorrow my Facebook is going to read, 'Blake McGinnis had a great shit today, came out with very little pushing. I just want to thank Kellogg’s for upping the fiber count in the cereal.”
I started to laugh again as we walked to the nerd table, where the other nerds raised eyebrows at me laughing.
“I think then about three hours later I will put, 'Blake McGinnis just held his cat Chuck down and sniffed his neck fur.”
I couldn’t even stop myself if I wanted to; the laughing was starting to actually get quite painful.
His arms flailed about now, “Then I think at around seven I will post, ‘Blake McGinnis is questioning his humanity and had a bad thought about his neighbors.’ Then at least my mom will have something to think about. Jesus I get tired of reading this crap.”
I enjoyed thinking about something other than myself.
One that day, in that moment I felt like the Grinch. My chest expanded and my heart seemed to shake off its icy winter coat and let a small amount of the spring sunlight in. I didn’t know what to do with the new sense of freedom I was having, but suddenly the school looked brighter. I noticed the other kids talking and making movements, which before I would have ignored obsessively.
After lunch we walked into class and for a split second I felt a tiny amount of peace. Mr. Mac was smiling at the class, explaining how to get ready for the experiment. The sunlight shone into through the windows and the air sparkled with dust and inspiration.
For the first time without feeling like I had betrayed my mom I looked forward to something. Chemistry was my favorite class and not for the same reasons as all the other girls. Unfortunately for him, Mr. Mac looked much more like a student than a teacher, having only graduated with his masters two years before. It earned him hottie teacher status, which he seemed oblivious to.
He was very handsome but I only noticed it after my sister pointed it out. Something about his face didn’t do it for me, he was attractive but not my type. I knew what my type was, my sister's boyfriend.
For me chemistry was simple. The reaction was caused by the chemicals or elements involved. No surprises and no guessing. I loved the reaction of chemicals and the predictability that came with knowing the elements. It was a controlled environment. Blake loved Chem too but it was because Mr. Mac was his hero, he held three degrees and a masters by the time he was twenty-four.
On the way home from school I took a detour instead of the bus or a ride with Satan, aka Alise. I felt a small sense of serenity as I saw the spot and smiled, imagining my mom was waiting for me. The wind blew my long blond hair up in the air, like a tornado was sucking it up. I ran to her spot, shivering as the cold concrete froze my legs.
I had gathered the new dandelions of the year in my pocket on the way and was making myself a crown, as I sat there talking.
“So then Mr. Mac said that I could just do my own project since my partner wasn’t there, again. God I don’t know what’s up with her but it’s been like four classes and she’s still sick. Maybe it’s the plague. I really like Mr. Mac mom, he treats us like people not students. He is an actual chemist too, not a gym teacher filling in a spot.”
I finished my crown and placed it on my head, as a tear rolled down my cheek, “There mom just like you made.” I pushed back my pain and smiled, my mom didn’t need to see me sad like that all the time.
Suddenly it was there, the warm wind.
My skin lifted with a shiver as I closed my eyes and let the wind surround me. I knew people made fun of the fact I would go and sit on the side of the road, beside the tree where I’d made the mark.
The fact my mom hadn’t died anywhere near the tree, which was what made me the town weirdo. In truth though someone had died there, I had, which was why I was haunting it.
Twenty-eight hundred people populated the little seaside hamlet of a Town. In Port Mackenzie everyone noticed when Don James's quiet daughter sat on the side of the road, talking to a tree.
I looked at the mark on the tree, feeling slightly ashamed of hurting it that way. There in the torn bark and skin of the tree was my blood making a cross. I had pulled and ripped the bark in a panic, cutting my hands up so I would never lose the spot. The spot where my moms warm wind had hugged me for the first time. I was surprised that the blood hadn’t washed away in the winter rains. The tree held onto enough color that I could always find it. The bloodstain was old and brown but if you knew where to look, you could see the cross faintly. Perhaps the tree knew I needed it. I smiled at the mark grateful someone understood me.
I sat there staring at the mark, realizing I had come a long way in the months since her death. I knew soon I would be normal again. I could feel it, my heart was healing.
Blake was part to blame with his funny sarcastic ways, that cheered me up even when I resisted. I smiled thinking about him distractedly. I wondered if we would ever become lovers or if we would just get married. I knew we were perfect for each other; it just made sense. Really all that was in the way was both of us were unbearably shy and inexperienced. I had wanted a boyfriend for a while before my mom's accident. I wanted something romantic like an Austen movie. After her death I wasn’t certain I could face the feelings I was having without my mother to advise me.
Slightly betraying my pact not to cry at her spot, I felt a tear drip down my cheek.
“Mom I can’t fight it much longer. I can’t stay sad forever. I’m really trying to honor you and I know this isn’t what you would have wanted but I don’t know how else to see you.” I heaved slightly, “I see Alise so happy and normal and I hate her. If I’m not sad do I miss you the same amount?”
I let the tears fall. I stared down at the cement, trying to see the design my splashed tears made on the concrete. I felt a cool wind suddenly twirl around me. It felt like the winds of change would, refreshing and energizing. I knew my mom would want me to be happy.
I stood up, feeling blood rushing back into my legs with painful pins and needles, “Love you mom. See you soon okay.”
I enjoyed feeling the blood find its way back into my legs, it felt like a small sacrifice to the pain my mom had felt. I walked letting the cramping leave my legs one step at a time, like the aching pain did in my heart.
When I got home my sister was pouting in the corner, with a face that could devastate a coastline. Our father had put her on restricted party attendance in the last month. Alise hadn’t been to a party in four weeks, which no doubt was starting to affect her most popular girl in school status. Our father was a marine biologist, so his sympathies didn’t lie with social standing.
Her big silver eyes glistened, as if she had been crying. It wouldn’t have surprised me if she had. She would pull out all the stops to get her way. Even at eighteen I had seen fainting, holding breath, screaming, not talking to people for months on end, refusal to eat or drink, and many many more dramatics. It always seemed to be in the pursuit of her eternal happiness, which only ever always lasted about an hour.
I rolled my eyes as my sister's gaze fixed on me. Instantly I could see the cogs begin to move as the desperation clicked into action. This was the forefront where an evil plan formed in the mind of the feeble but wickedly scheming brat. Seeing my sneer she shifted gears.
Pretending to be grasping at straws, she went for the back up plan. She no doubt had been holding onto it, like an ace in her hand. I watched as the façade crept across her face, making it seem impromptu. I hated getting dragged into her schemes.
She smiled her prettiest smile at me, “There's a party tonight, at Shane’s house. It’s going to be a huge party Aimes, a fun party. Come with me? It's senior year. Come on. Pretty pleeeasse. How can the girlfriend not be at the party? This could end our relationship. He could cheat on me or think I’m lying about not being allowed and think I’m cheating. My entire happiness is riding on this party.”
My heart dropped, of course that was why Shane had asked me to go to his party. It hurt but I knew it made sense. He wanted his girlfriend at the party.
I squeezed my lips together and thought about Blake. Blake was the one who was right for me.
She begged on her hands and knees, pouting her perfectly glossed lips at me, like I was a boy under her spell. Hey silvers eyes sparkled, as she batted her lashes like butterfly wings.
I felt the disgust on my face, “You know I’m a girl right?”
“Hardly Aimes.” Alise sneered at me. Noticing the look of revulsion on my face, she quickly opted to go back to batting her eyelashes at me once more.
I had to confess the idea of being at Shane’s house did make my heart ache. Looking down at my heart I grimaced, traitor.
What was wrong with me? First a heart flip for Blake and now heartache for Shane, my sister's boyfriend, it was like emotional whoring.
I rolled my eyes at her again, “Your pouty lips and eyelashes do nothing for me.” I grabbed a cookie and some chocolate soymilk, “Besides I have plans tonight.” It was raid night.
I finished my snack and walked to the counter in the kitchen to put my empty glass of soymilk down on the bar.
I could see her eyes twitching, as her poor simple brain worked over time. She was trying desperately to come up with a new plan. I imagined the poor little hamster that moved the thoughts around. He was in there suffering away, running on his wheel. He was trying desperately to make hr mind work even at half speed.
“Aimee I can’t go without you. If you go I will give you a hundred dollars.” Clearly the little hamster was on a smoke break.
I could see her regret it as she said it. Alise knew she not only had no money to follow through on the promise she made, but that I didn’t care about money in any way.
When Alise saw my expression she desperately blurted, “I’ll do your laundry and be nice to you for a month. Even at school.”
I squeezed my lips together contemplating the possibility. My brain ran through the possibilities and scenarios involving her doing both those things. It seemed like a winning situation.
I nodded feeling sick to my stomach for making a deal with the devil, “Ok deal, but you have to be nice to me and Blake for a month and do my laundry properly according to washing instructions and drive me anywhere I want. And I want drink service tonight, nothing nasty or filled with booze but good drinks all night, handed to me from your hand to mine. And I’m bringing Blake tonight and you have to drive us to the party as you would any other friend. I'm not riding in the trunk.”
Alise stuck her hand out excitedly, “Deal.”
I walked past her not taking her hand, “Like I would touch that hand, please I know where your hands go. Besides you have no honor. I will draw up a contract and I’ll tell Blake to be ready for eight.” I imagined she would want it signed in blood, like all evil demons.
She laughed, “You’re a bitch Aimee, a funny bitch. Eight sounds like it’s on.” She jumped up and down excitedly. I had sold my soul to the devil.
I went to my room to decide on an outfit for the night. I wanted to go to the party. It was a new feeling, not since my mom's accident new, but since forever. I had never been the party type. I wanted to tell myself it wasn’t because it was at Shane's house. I pushed Blake into my brain and forced Shane out.
I wondered if being at a party would help Blake loosen up? Would he at least try to kiss me? I had it planned out from the kiss. I just didn’t know how to get us to there. I imagined we would kiss and then we could start our courting before university. My heart didn’t beat any faster at the idea of kissing Blake but my stomach felt off. I looked down at it and wondered if that was what real love felt like?
I had never been kissed and it seemed like the most amazing experience when it happened in the movies. The idea of kissing Blake didn’t make me feel like the world would stop to give notice to our kiss, but I knew he was right for me. One side of me was reasonable and the other was romantic, just like my parents.
I just didn’t know which side should win in the case of romance.
I looked at myself in the mirror and pictured myself in a ball gown. My dress would be soft lavender colored and my hair would be up. I reached behind and made a bun with my hair. I could see myself, ready for the ball. I closed my eyes and imagined Blake in a tux but suddenly he wasn’t Blake. He was Shane, standing tall and handsome and putting a hand out for me. I put a hand out smiling ridiculously.
My heart ached again. I opened my eyes to see a flushed face looking back at me in the huge stand up mirror. There was a very guilty look on the face of the girl in the mirror.
I put my hand down and turned to face reality. My sister was dating Shane and he barely knew I existed except as a tutor or the sister of the girl he was dating. No biggie. As Mr. Collins always said, Blake was a very agreeable alternative. Blake was my soul mate or at least the mate of my mind, which I felt, was probably more important in the long run.
I turned and went to my closet to start getting ready. My closet was bleak, or rather black. It seemed some time ago I had gone through everything and removed all of the color and joy from my closet.
I groaned and grabbed a black pair of skinny jeans and a dark blue sweater. I changed quickly and looked at my reflection with a smirk. My sister was right, which had never happened, our mom would freak if she were here.
My long, slightly wavy blond hair hung around my gaunt face. My eyes had dulled to a lifeless grey, with no zest or expression. My skin seemed not just white but powdered and flat. I looked skinnier than ever and my skinny jeans looked ridiculous, hanging off of my body.
I couldn’t help but worry about the girl in mirror. Her once perky nose almost looked a little big on her face, which had grown horridly thin. Her full lips looked chapped and peeling, I grimaced at the girl, not very kissable. Her eyebrows looked like they needed a little weed whacking and her hair was stringy.
I truly looked like a Goth; there was no denying it.
“Oh my god you're not wearing that. Take that off I will be right back.” Alise was in and out before I could register what had happened. Suddenly she was stripping the clothes off of me. Roughly tearing off the sweater and pulling on a pink t-shirt. It had red lips down low on the left side and was really long. She undid my jeans to tear them off, as she knocked me to the bed and pulled at them.
She rambled on about being old enough to dress myself, which made me blush as she dragged on the new jeans. They were very light blue with frayed pockets in the back and subtle whiskers in the front. There was an intentional rip in the right knew.
I hated it instantly and wanted to undress the minute I saw myself in the mirror. I looked like one of her friends, which bothered me. I didn’t even want to think about the fact I looked better.
That being said, I felt like I was wearing a flashing sign that shouted, ‘look at me!’
“You’ve gotten too skinny for skinny jeans and you look horrid in black. You’re a spring/summer Aimee, you need color.”
She grabbed my arm and dragged me to her room. It was cluttered and disgusting with an odor I couldn’t quite place, maybe I could. It was L’eau de homeless man who peed his pants and ate nachos.
“You want Blake to like you Aimes, you need to put a little make up on and try a little harder. Guys don’t ask out girls who’ve already crossed over into spinsterhood. Here try this.” She said as she made me sit in her make up chair. Her hands flew up at me as she started applying things to my face. I never spoke, I shut my sister, out like usual, and I told myself I could wash my face when this was over. Alise tweezed and groomed like Edward Sissorhands, using both hands to do the work.
“You like Blake right?” She asked without waiting for me to answer, “Well you need to grab a guy like him and tell him you like him. He’s smart but not in relationships.”
I nodded, trying to pacify her as she ranted. I grimaced at her holding something that looked like a torture device and moving toward my eyes, “You know when I liked Benny, he never knew for the first few weeks but then I just told him one night at a pit party and we dated for like six months. Till I caught him with that slut Meagan, that was disgusting.”
This was the story of Alise’s life; she had already dated at least fifteen boys in the last four years.
I had still not dated a boy once.
It wasn’t from lack of desire but more lack of options. The only boy I had ever really liked was the one my sister was dating, Shane.
Shane.
I had liked him from grade two on, but I never told anyone. I sighed realizing he was ruined forever, having no doubt had sex with my sister. I threw up a tiny bit in my mouth and grimaced thinking about it.
I was stuck with Blake, not that it was a bad option but I knew there wasn’t any romance in the choice. Even worse he was shyer than I was.
I had come to terms with him being the one for me the day I found out about Shane and Alise.
She messed with my hair, ignoring the faces I was making while processing my love life. “You can’t like graduate a virgin Aimee, university is not the place to lose it. And dude if you continue the way you’re going, you’ll be in your twenties and a virgin. Aimes no guys want to date a twenty-five year old virgin. There, what do you think?”
She stepped back and swung the chair to face her mirror. I prepared myself for the worst, painted whore like her friends or maybe like a clown. I worried about the latter as she was being oddly kind to me. I tried not to think about the fact I had roped her into a month of extra laundry as I took my first look.
I looked remarkable.
The girl staring back at me looked attractive and I could barely see the makeup, Alise had actually respected the fact I was a minimalist.
“You have a talent Alise, this is miraculous.” I whispered as I touched my cheeks not feelings greasy makeup. My lips looked full and plump and my blue eyes were noticeable and sparkly.
She stood behind me in the mirror smiling at her work, “You look like we could even be friends, like a cheer leader or something.”
And there it was, the old mean and nasty snot of a sister I was accustomed to, “Yeah well don’t get your hopes up.”
She crossed her arms and gave me the look of doom, “Don’t do anything to get dirty or make a mess of yourself, and don’t eat. Just sit somewhere till eight.”
I laughed as I left her room feeling like an idiot for being talked into it. I walked back to my room to play WOW while I waited for it to be time.
****
Lost in the game a while later, I was interrupted deep in thought about the Alliance member I was creaming.
“You really are doing this?” Dad asked as I slaughtered a noob twelve year old Allie with my fellow guildies.
“Play World of Warcraft, yeah. I play everyday. Dad please, you need to start paying attention to our comings and goings. It's getting frightening in here without any parental control.”
“I know you play, it costs me fifteen dollars every month kiddo I notice. Whoever thought that game up is a genius.” He sighed almost chuckling.
I never took my eyes off the screen as I spoke, “Duly noted.”
“No I meant the party, it’s not your thing. You don’t have to go.” His voice was flat as if he were playing it up and saying it, but secretly excited I was going.
“Yeah well she promised me the moon and stars.” My eyes still never left the screen.
“Be safe and don’t drink okay.” His voice was yielding as he spoke.
I turned to face him, while the flags reset in my game of capture the flag, “Dad its okay. When do I drink? I think you’re in the wrong room, Sleazy Drunks is next door. This is Dorks with Anonymity. Did you eat yet?”
He shook his head chuckling, “No I ordered some pizza. Vince is coming over, he wants to watch the game.”
I smiled, “Who’s playing?”
My once handsome father, who had been replaced by this shorter and more exhausted one, smiled almost brightening his face up, “Oh, well you know me and sports kiddo. But adult company and some pizza will be a pleasant diversion.”
I laughed at my father, “Yeah I guess we are both being held hostage for the evening.”
His eyes sparkled for a moment, “Maybe it’s what we need Aimee, we don’t seem to be getting past this on our own. You look pretty by the way. Want me to get a veggie burger when I pick up the pizza?”
I smiled looking him right in the eye, which I rarely did anymore, and nodded as he left my room.
****
My sister drove like a crazed woman, making all the pickup stops along the way. Blake and I sat squished in the back with a guy name Tommy, who had dated my sister and flirted mercilessly with everything that moved. I grimaced imagining dating a boy everyone else I knew had dated.
“Hey Aimee, looking good. You clean up nice.” He spoke soothingly, as if trying to charm me or tame a wild animal. I wasn’t sure which.
“Yeah I don’t really see how a t-shirt is cleaned up, but thanks Tommy.” I rolled my eyes at Blake who muffled a laugh.
“McGinnis, dude you’re way too big for the back seat. You should have tried out for basketball. What are you six one?” He asked Blake trying to make conversation.
Blake smiled, “Uhm six three actually but I am not a sporting sort. That is best left for the coordinated.”
He frowned at me, which I knew meant he really didn’t want to be in this car full of the popular kids. They always asked him to join sports based on his height and the fact his parents were ridiculously rich. Team funding was a huge issue in a small town.
I laughed at his grumpy face, as he whispered to me, “You look really nice. Pink is an improvement to black.”
I stuck my tongue out, almost feeling guilty to be having fun and laughing. Deep down I knew my mom would want me to have a life again, even if it was Alise’s life.
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