Magic Born
Book 1 of Novel Series Magic Pair
by CJ Kayne
Smashwords Edition, Electronic Editing,
Published By Wayne Press October 2012.
Copyright © 2012 by CJ Kayne
Cover Design © 2012 by Wayne Press
Cover Photo © Aleksey Gorbatenkov | Dreamstime.com
Cover Art © Tankut Çorbacıoğlu | Dreamstime.com
First eBook Edition
This product is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction, either in whole or in part, in any form. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Contents
To Kris and Dean
Thank you
The over — enthused roar that rumbled from the gym told me the stupid pep rally had already started. I hesitated at the big double doors when one slammed open, almost hit me. I dodged to the side in time to miss the door, but not the person coming out. Black t — shirt and warm boy smell assaulted my senses as I staggered to gain my footing. A firm grip caught my arms and steadied me.
For a second I saw a flash of light. Warm electricity flowed from where he touched me, down my arm and into the rest of my body. With my feet finally under me and my balance regained I looked up into the boy’s face.
Clear blue eyes lined with thick black lashes shone wide in a pale face I had only seen before in glimpses around school. Shaggy black hair hung over his forehead with a glint of an eyebrow ring. He looked hotter up close than from a distance.
The tingle where he touched me grew stronger. My blush radiated like the sun from my face as I pulled away. Hot guys don’t like nerdy girls like me. The fade in the back kind. Bland. High School scenery. One bush in a wall of hedge. Backdrop to make the roses like that much more dazzling.
But he didn’t let me go.
I tried to speak. Intelligence fled. My mouth opened and nothing came out. A flutter and a flash and then…
Punk — ass twat doesn’t know what he’s got. Fine. I’ll let him play his game then go. Like I do. But first I gotta take a piss.
I pushed out the gym doors with a slam as I hurry and collided with a girl. I grabbed her shoulders and steadied her. She’s kinda cute. A little high on the geek factor.
A light flash under my hands where I touched her. When I looked down into her face I saw…me.
I jerked away from his grip and blinked up at him confused.
He shared my look. Confused. Weirded out. Oh, god. He began to blush a bit too.
“Max, get a move on. We’re starting when you’re ready. Are you ready?”
Mr. Pinkerton, only known as Coach Pink, stood behind us, shouting above the noise. Head Football Coach and one of the PE teachers, Coach Pink was a gruff, no nonsense kind of teacher. I had never seen the man wear pants. Even on the coldest days, running laps, I would be in pants wishing for long — johns and he would be showing leg.
Coach Pink was looking at both of us, waiting. His voice had snapped us out of whatever moment we were in. Max let go of me. Thoroughly embarrassed, I anchored my eyes to the ground and quickly ducked around Coach Pink, through the double doors, and into the gym.
The common belief held by most was that Pep Rallies existed to instill school spirit in the students, create a sense of friendly competition, and to get out of class for awhile. And that these were all good ideas. Each class, freshman through senior, had a designated seating area and each class would dress in the same color; one of our school colors. Then each class throughout the rally would be awarded spirit points for involvement, color coordination, skits, spirit competitions, etc.
I preferred to hide out in the library where it remained calm, quiet, and safe. Unfortunately, an over — helpful librarian cast me out for the betterment of my social graces. I rolled my eyes at her idea of social graces as I plunged into one giant color coordinated screaming mob of spirit.
Fortunately my class, the seniors, were designated the bleachers closest to the entrance door. I grabbed a two foot length of bleacher on the floor, stuck my backpack between my legs and waited for it all to be over.
There was a weird metallic taste in the air. I found some gum in my backpack and started to chew the taste out of my mouth as I looked around. The rally hadn’t started yet. The gym floor was empty and the bleachers were packed.
Music thrummed from speakers set flanking a sound board being run by the guy I’d run into. Coach Pink had called him Max. I caught myself rubbing my arms where he had grabbed me to stop me falling. Like imprints, heat still tinged below the surface. Gawd, he had been cute. Even weirded out and a little smelly. He had thought I was cute in a geeky sort of way. What if… I shook the budding fantasy out of my head and back into reality.
Hot guys don’t dig on background girls.
Wait, how did I know he thought I was cute?
I chewed on the end of a piece of my hair as I contemplated. And watched Max. Watching didn’t mean fantasizing.
Max handed a microphone to Mitch Marks, student body president and considered the hottest guy in school. I wasn’t sure if I agreed, but he was good looking in the stereo — typical way. He was blonde, handsome, and well chiseled in features, for an eighteen year old. He’d been a skinny twerp until last year when everything filled out in a summer. Including his ego.
Mitch thumped the mic a couple of times, testing it. The sound carried through the speakers over the music. He nodded at Max and then ran out onto the gym floor.
“Yo, yo! Yo, everybody! What’s up!?!” Mitch’s voice filled the gym. The response was a deafening roar from all of the students. “Are you ready to rock the HOUSE!?!” He was answered by another roar from the students.
I made an eye roll they may have been audible.
I slipped down to the gym floor, pulled my jean clad knees to my chin, and hid my face from the madness. I hated crowds, loud noises, and public displays of idiocy.
Mitch started a call and answer with each class as the first spirit competition. I watched from one eye as Mitch ran around the center of the gym, as he yelled and waved his hands in the air at each class to get them excited. I had to hand it to the guy. He had guts and energy. I could never have gotten up in front of all those people like that. A fear shiver, cold and sharp, shot down my back at the very idea of it. In front of a crowd this big. No. No. No.
I noticed that the gym seemed a little more dark and gloomy than usual. The gym had skylights in the ceiling and the light could be really bright. With the other lights on, it could sometimes be almost as bright as day. I looked up. A brown haze covered the skylights.
I thought for a moment it was a cloud passing overhead outside, but the haze blocked out the lights in the ceiling as well. The haze covered the entire ceiling. It looked like a thick cloud of brown dust. Dull brown tiny particles of something in mass, like a dust cloud or smoke. And it moved. Some places it swirled, where others it seemed to pulsate. Looking at it I got this knot in my stomach.
I blinked as a piece of the cloud separated from the main mass and formed a tendril of smoky dust reaching down to Mitch. The tendril touched down to Mitch a couple times, like a cyclone touching down to earth, and then it stuck. Mitch didn’t react. Connected to Mitch and reaching up to the ceiling the tendril began to thicken.
I looked at the people around me but everyone still cheered. No one seemed to see what I saw. The fear knot in my stomach tightened and it was hard to breathe. I really didn’t think that dusty stuff was smoke.
Coach Pink stood a couple feet from me. I got up, skirting the wall to get to him, drawing as little attention as possible. Beyond him, on the other side of the double doors, was the audio setup. Just as I got to Coach Pink, Max looked over at me.
I jerked my eyes from Max’s uncomfortable stare and tapped Coach Pink on the shoulder. I yelled over the noise, “Coach Pink, do you see that brown smokiness up by the ceiling?” I pointed up.
“You see smoke? Where?” Coach Pink yelled back. He was concerned.
“The ceiling. Don’t you see it?” I answered, bewildered. Max glanced up at the ceiling and looked back at me. Did he see the dust too? “Don’t you see that brown haze up, up there on the ceiling.”
Coach Pink looked up and then glared at me.
“It’s swirling around,” I continued, desperate, “and kind of following Mitch…” My voice trailed off under his gaze.
“Ms. Marshall, what are you playing at?” Coach said.
He didn’t see it. I couldn’t think what to say.
When I remained silent he said angrily, “Becca, I’ve never known you to instigate a bad situation. What are you trying to start here in a room full of teenagers, calling smoke and fire?” I felt two feet tall under his gaze. He held my gaze and I just got smaller. “Well,” he said, “What do you see? Do you see smoke, Becca?”
I looked up. I knew the swirling dust wasn’t smoke, but I didn’t know what it was. I wanted someone else to see it too. “No, sir. I do not see smoke.”
“Then go back to your seat.”
Dismissed and frustrated I turned from him and returned to my seat. I tried to focus on the rally and ignore the non — smoke on the ceiling. The knot in my stomach roiled liked the haze on the ceiling. The not there haze. Sweat dripped into my eye as my nails dug into the wooden seat at the pain in my stomach. Fear pain. Nerves.
Great. A panic attack at the ripe old age of seventeen. Coupled with visions of things that did not exist. AND believing I could know what someone was thinking. Fantastic.
Someone spiked my energy drink.
Guess I wasn’t as background as I thought I was.
I contemplated a run to the bathroom and a head dunk under the faucet as the national anthem began to sound. A girl from Choir. A background girl, in her moment to be seen. More power to her. Coach Pink stood guard at the double doors to freedom. I tore a corner off a discarded spirit sign, fanned myself and did not look at the ceiling.
On the choir girl’s first note there was feedback from the sound system that got some heckling from the crowd. I saw Max work at something on the board and then nod to the singer. The music started again and she sang her first note. Again, there was feedback.
The hecklers in the crowd got a little louder and I saw Mitch gesture to the crowd. I thought for a second Mitch was trying to get the hecklers to stop. Max was at the sound board working on some things and then gave the singer a signal to start again. This time she started without a hitch.
The notes of the national anthem soared but the heckling did not stop. Mitch waved his arms at the crowd and yelled. I realized with a sour jolt that he wasn’t trying to stop the heckling. He was egging it on.
The singer, Rachael I think her name was, had sung the anthem a few times before at rally’s and a couple of games. She was comfortable in front of a crowd. Even after the two hiccups with the feedback she had started strong. The heckling distracted her because on the second verse she started singing part of the first verse again. When she realized what she had done she tried to find her way back to the correct words, but just started stumbling. The crowd caught it and the hecklers grew stronger.
I glanced at Max, hoping maybe he could help her in some way. I saw his gaze go up toward the ceiling. I followed his look and saw the haze was thicker. It swirled faster and darker now. The knot in my stomach tightened. Then it hit me, Max must see it too.
As Max and I watched, a second tendril of the brown haze pulled off from the swirling cloud and dove straight down into Mitch. I jumped off the bench at the sight of it. No one else reacted, except Max. He stepped back from the sound board. He just stood there and watched. He looked as shocked as I felt.
Mitch yelled again to the crowd, getting them worked up. This time it was in mockery of Rachael. She had found her way in the song, but it no longer mattered. Mitch was working the crowd again and they were eating it up. Hecklers grew more wide spread and the booing started.
I leapt back a bit and almost fell back over the bleacher behind me when multiple tendrils of the brown dust pull off of the main body of the haze and plummet down into different students in the crowd. More and more and more of them pulled off until a good third of the student body had tendrils of brown dust connecting them to the swirling and now growing vortex of spinning haze.
My heart pounded in my chest and I felt sick.
The air was sharp and metallic and so thick it felt hard to breathe. And the sound was appalling.
Mocking laughter, heckles and screams. I saw fights break out amongst the students in the stands. Poor Rachael stood alone in the middle of the gym floor struggling to finish her song.
What had once been just a cloud on the ceiling had started to fill the gym and all of the students in it.
I looked over and saw Max, his back against the wall of the gym with a look of fear on his face. Fear because no one else that I could see, no one else seemed to be seeing what we were seeing. And I didn’t know what it was. I just knew that it was wrong.
Max looked at me. He yelled something, but I couldn’t hear him.
I didn’t see Coach Pink, so I had a clear path to Max.
I ran along the two sets of double doors to Max on the other side. As I came toward him Max glanced back toward the center of the gym. His look of fear turned to horror.
Max threw his arms out in front of him in a defensive move just as a giant tendril pulled off the main body and shot toward him. Max’s hands were straight out, palms out to block it. The tendril whipped down on him and recoiled quickly from Max when the end touched his hands. It whipped at Max twice before I got to him. I yelled his name and he turned toward me with his hands still outstretched. I hadn’t expected it, so I put my hands out toward him to catch myself.
And our hands met.
Everything blazed white as a giant flash of light shot from our hands.
Then I blinked.
Max stood in front of me, his hands outstretched. Barely not touching mine. I turned to look around.
The haze was gone. The gym was awash in light that streamed down from the skylights from the beautiful fall day outside. The gym was eerily quiet, as if everyone was holding their breath. There were no tendrils, no dust.
A breath being taken pulled all sound in the gym into silence. Strong and clear, a female voice sang, “And the home — of the — brave.” On their feet the crowd cheered. Rachael smiled and waved with equal energy and beamed.
A sinking feeling in my stomach, my knees stopped working, and everything turned sideways.
Mitch bound up to Rachael, lifted one of her arms in the air as he lifted both of his.
I fell, so heavy.
Max hit the ground beside me and did not move.
The crowd cheered.
Then I felt nothing.
Two tiny pipes of air ran cold up my nose. Body aches thrummed in rhythm to the fine beep and buzz of machinery on both sides of me. I opened my eyes to a fuzzy view of a hospital room. A mom shaped blur sat in a chair next to my bed and held my hand, asleep. Curtains were drawn over a window or another room. A TV hovered in the upper corner of the wall across from me. To my right was another bed, and in it was Max.
He was asleep. His black hair was stark against the white sheets. He had a heart monitor beeping next to him and a tube in his nose. One, I noticed, that matched mine.
Blinking a couple times everything came into focus. I took stock of myself. Everything felt and moved fine. I didn’t hurt anywhere except where the tubes and IV needles rubbed and poked. And my stomach. I was so hungry my stomach ached. Moving around jostled the bed and my mom woke up. She looked at me and I could see the fear in her eyes that turned to joy followed by tears that she tried to stifle. She smiled, squeezed my hand and said, “Well it’s about time you woke up.”
“Sorry about that. Stayed up late again.” I squeezed her hand back and smiled.
“How you feeling?”
“Hungry!” I growled.
She laughed at my enthusiasm, patted my hand and got up. “I will see what I can come up with.” She started to walk away and then came back and grabbed me into a big hug. I was startled by the ferocity of it but gave back with equal energy. “I love you so much.” She said into my hair. She exhaled then pushed away from me and off the bed, walked across the room and out the door into the hall without looking back.
The look on my mom’s face and smell of the hospital brought back memories I had re — lived too many times. The beeping of the heart monitor, the starkness of the room all slammed me back to that day. I glanced back at Max in the bed and expected to see my father laying there. I turned away and starred up at the ceiling. Pushed those thoughts away. It had been three years. I should be over it, over him.
I took deep breaths, and wished my mother would hurry up.
A sound to my left and I turned my head, spilling a tear down my cheek. I wiped it away, but not before I saw Max was awake and looking at me. I felt this weird pulling in my chest. Like my heart hurt, but distant. Then I saw his eyes, blue beneath the hair and they were sad.
He turned away from me and looked up at the ceiling. “Hey.” He said.
“Hey.”
We were both silent for a minute.
“Did you see it?” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
“See it?” I asked.
“Yeah, did you see the umm…”
“Dust?” I said, whispering as well.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah. I did. And it was…”
“Alive.” He said the word and that was it. We both just laid there for a minute. Someone else seeing it had made it real. I couldn’t decide which was scarier. That I saw it or that someone else had too.
The door to our room swung open and everything became a bustle of activity. A doctor and two nurses came in with my mom. They checked monitors and asked us questions about how we felt. One of the nurses went out and came back with trays of food. My mouth watered at the sight of it, green Jell-O and all.
Max and I devoured our tray of food as everyone continued to move around us. I came to the end of mine and was still hungry. In between questions I asked for another. My mother gave me a look. Max echoed my request, which settled my mother. The nurse was soon out and back with granola bars for each of us. Soon they were pressing us to drink more liquids and get some sleep. The doctor asked to talk to my mom outside.
As everyone exited the room I realized that through the entire interaction and all the hustle and bustle no one had said what had happened to us. Well, not specifically. We were dehydrated and malnourished and suffered from exhaustion, but why, no one said.
The doctor and my mom stood just outside the door talking. It sounded like murmuring until I heard my mother raise her voice. My mother rarely raised her voice, but when she did there was no getting around her. After a bit it sounded like the doctor had given up. Smart man. My mother returned with a triumphant smile. She stopped at the foot of the two beds and addressed us both.
“Alright, you two, this is what is going to happen. The doctors are going to keep you here overnight for one more night and then I will be able to take you home tomorrow.”
“One more night? How long have we been here?” She moved to sit at the edge of my bed at my question, but on the side facing Max’s bed.
Laying a hand on my leg under the covers she answered slowly, “You were rushed here from the school on Monday morning. Today is Wednesday.” She looked at me and let that sink in. Two days? Max and I shared an unbelieving look like a flicker of connection. Then he looked away and back at the wall. I gazed back at my mom and finally saw the bags under her eyes and her wrinkled clothes, the ragged look on her face. I had been unconscious for two days and my mom looked exhausted.
“The doctor says that I can take you home tomorrow, but he wants you both to get one more day of rest in after that before you go back to school.” She looked at Max and her look softened. “There is no contact information for your family at school. Do you have a number of someone we can get a hold of?”
Max was silent then said, “No.” His eyes remained on the wall.
“Maybe a friend? Any relatives that live locally?”
“No, it’s fine.” He was picking at a loose string on the blanket. “I can take a cab to my house or something and then bus it to the school Friday and get my car. So, yeah, I’ll be fine.” He glanced at my mom for just second and then back down.
“Well,” my mom took a breath, “If someone doesn’t come by tomorrow the doctor said it was ok if I took you home with me. He doesn’t want to chance you being by yourself during this crucial time. If you chose not to come home with me, and Becca, you would have to stay here another night by yourself.” Pause. “It’s up to you.” Max had stopped picking and was just looking down. “But we can decide that tomorrow. Until then you guys should get some more rest.” She stood up.
“But Mom, what did they say happened to us?”
She looked at me and Max, she had his attention too.
“Well, at first they thought that it was electrocution, from the sound board.”
“What?” I said.
Max just clenched the blanket, but said nothing.
“But when they got you here there were no burn marks on either of you or your clothes. They checked the equipment out yesterday at the school and they couldn’t find any loose wires or any reason or means for the equipment to shock you. There were witnesses who said that there was some feedback happening with the microphone right before it happened. They also said they saw you, Max, put out your hands in front of you and that Becca ran to you. That after you ran into each other you both passed out. So, then they thought it might be an accidental concussion from you running into each other.” Max and I exchanged glances. “But when it comes down to it guys, they have no idea.” She finished with a frustrated shrug. A frustration that smoked at a smolder. A shadow of what must have been a blaze of anger and fear when they were first brought in. No wonder the doctor backed down so easy.
I found myself staring at my own covers and going over what happened that morning. That morning two days ago. It made no sense. “Did anyone see anything else weird, like smoke or anything?”
“Coach Pink said you mentioned something about smoke, but no one else said they saw it. Did you see smoke around the equipment?”
“No, I thought I saw something, but it wasn’t really smoke.” I looked at Max. He was shaking his head at me. Drop it. So, I tired. “But I don’t think it was anything. Not if nobody else saw it.”
“What did happen, you guys? Why were your hands out Max, and Becca, why did you run to him?” She was looking at us expectantly.
“Well,” Max started, slow, eyes braving my mother’s penetrating gaze. “I was motioning to Rachael, the singer. She was coming to the speakers. If she had gotten too close, she was going to cause feedback on the mic again. I was signaling her to back up.” He said it to my mom completely straight. It was a complete lie. It came really easy to him. Way easy.
“Becca?” My mom turned to me.
Oh, crap.
“Well, I saw Max signal to Rachael and thought something was wrong. I didn’t understand what he was doing. So I was going over to see if I could help. There was so much yelling and everyone was paying so much attention out on the floor I didn’t think anyone else would see to help him.” I looked from my mom to Max. “You were waving your hands all around and stuff.”
I saw Max roll his eyes behind my mother. Lying did not come easy to me. But the truth was unbelievable. I still wasn’t sure if what I remember really happened. I wanted to talk to Max about it more.
“And the smoke?” Mom did not look convinced. More confused. Join the club.
“I don’t know. Maybe I saw someone smoking outside and it wafted in.” Both of them gave me incredulous looks. “I don’t know. I said maybe.”
What I did next I am not proud of, but did it out of necessity only. I gave my mom a pained look, and rolled a little on my side toward her and I said in a small voice. “I’m sorry mom, I don’t really remember.” And gripped her arm.
She softened immediately and put her hand over mine. “Of course. You guys need more rest. We can talk more about it tomorrow, ok.” She took my hand and tucked it beneath the covers and pulled them over me and up to my chin. I loved to be tucked in. She pet my head and kissed my forehead. “You two get some more sleep and I will see you in the morning.” She had turned to Max as she said it to include him as well. She grabbed her purse then walked out with a quick last minute look and wave behind her.
“I can’t believe you feel guilty for that.” Max had scooted down in his covers as well, and gazed up at the ceiling.
“How do you know I feel guilty?”
“Your lie was sloppy, but that end bit was pretty devious.”
“Don’t feel so proud of yourself. Yes, your lie was better, but the slow start of your delivery was suspicious at best.”
“I don’t feel proud of myself.”
“Yes, you do.” I sat up a little in bed and faced him. “You feel proud of yourself, and resentful of me because of my mom and really sad because of yours.” I gasped. I didn’t know how I knew it, but I knew everything I said to be true. He just stared at me. Shocked. And angry.
No matter how I knew it, I shouldn’t have said it and I felt awful.
“Max, I’m…”
“Shut up, Becca.” Max rolled over away from me. I felt a sadness and a loneliness I had not felt since my dad died, but it wasn’t mine. I rolled over away from him and starred at the wall.
“I’m sorry, Max.”
He didn’t say anything.
I lay there trying to find something to say. As each moment passed I could feel him getting farther and farther from me until what I had once felt, what I had once thought were his feelings, were gone and I only felt my own. I was sad, lonely and frightened.
The nurse woke me up while checking my readings and indicated a tray of food she had placed next to me. Max was already awake and eating. He didn’t look at me. Jellied meat substance paired with pile of beige goop that all smell like warm sneakers became my focus as spork went from tray to mouth. So hungry, my stomach had threatened to eat my spine, so the ‘food’ went faster than I wanted. Spork hit tray. My focus consumed, I realized I sat alone in sterilized silence with Max. I tried to think of something to say, but sometimes there isn’t anything.
Thankfully, my mom arrived with a whole lot of energy and an arm full of items.
“Ok, you two. So I did some shopping because I figured the two of you did not want to go out of here in hospital gowns or your three day old dirty clothes.” She dumped a bag on each of our beds.
“Max, for you I got some sweats and a zip up hooded sweatshirt and T — shirt. Also a long sleeve shirt because it is a little cold out.” She was unloading bags as she talked. She pulled out a stack of black clothes and handed them to Max. They looked freshly laundered and folded. Max held the stack of clothes with mouth a bit open, eyes on Becca’s mom.
“And for you, Becca, I bought a hooded sweatshirt as well so you wouldn’t feel left out.” She winked at me, “But the rest I brought from home. I figured you might want to have your own things on you.” She pulled out a stack of clothes for me. The top was a dark navy zip up hooded sweatshirt much like Max’s. But what caught my eye were my favorite pajama bottoms at the bottom of the stack.
“Thanks mom.” I said gratefully.
“Yes, Thank you, Mrs. Uhhh...” Max managed to make his mouth work beyond agape.
“Marshall. But call me Denise.” She smiled at him.
“Thank you, Mrs. Marshall.” And Max gave her a half smile while he unconsciously slid his hand back and forth across the clean cloth with one hand, and gripped the pile with the other.
“Kids these days and their lack of manners. I tell ya.” My mom replied and Max gave her a full smile. Then Mom shooed Max into the bathroom and told him to stay in there until I was finished changing.
It felt good to be out of the hospital gown. I also needed a shower. Really bad. Max came out and he was a splendid array of black. I saw his mouth tug up at the corner when he saw me, but didn’t say anything.
“I have both your backpacks in the car and I have you all signed out. Max, I left a note at the desk with my contact information in case anyone calls looking for you. Same with the school, ok.” She waited briefly for Max’s acknowledgement and then went right on. Max just nodded, as if he had any other option. “So to the car and we’re off. I am going to drop you two off at the house and then I am going in to work. I figure the two of you can entertain yourselves while I am away. But call me if you need anything.” And before we knew it we were through the hospital and to the mini — van.
As I climbed in I heard, “Nice Snowmen.”
“Thank you.” I replied back to Max for his not really a compliment on my sweatpants. “They’re my favorite.” Max just shook his head at me as I beamed at him and did a quick dorky curtsy at him, as I pretended the thick flannel snowman bedecked sweatpants was actually a gown. Max just got in the van.
I didn’t care how cute he was. No one snarked on the snowmen!
At the house mom took an extra moment to say good bye to me, stopping me as I was getting out of the van to put a hand on my cheek. I smiled warmly at her and she winked at me. “Have a good day. Call me, if you need anything. But do not go anywhere. You too, Max.” He had gotten out and was standing on the sidewalk waiting for me. “You have to stay with me until tomorrow. Doctor’s orders.”
She starred him down until she received the reluctant “Yes, Mrs. Marshall,” which she nodded at.
She said quietly to me, “You going to be ok with him?”
“I should be fine,” I said. I was more worried about boring him to death or embarrassing myself silly than anything.
“I talked with a couple of the teachers and they said he is a good kid, though rough around the edges. If you have any problems, you know what to do.”
“Yes, mom.” A run through of steps to take if an intruder is in the house ran uncontrollably through my head. Years of two women alone in the house together in an imperfect world had made caution and a self — defense class necessary in my mother’s eyes.
She nodded, and shooed me out of the van and waved to both of us as she drove away.
Unlocking the front door I said, “I don’t know about you, but I want a shower.” I tossed the keys on the counter in the kitchen and turned to him standing in the entrance. “Let’s do this. I’m starving, again, and I am sure you are too. So, you take a shower first while I make us some food. Then you can eat while I shower. Then we can watch a movie or something.”
“Sure.” A shrug was all I got from him, but his eyes darted around at the house parts he could see from his vantage point. Suddenly super self-conscious of worn linoleum shiny with mop’n’glow, post — it’s around the corded wall — phone (Oh god, the horror of corded in a cell phone age!), and all the brown! From the wood table and chair set in the dining room to the stain resistance carpet, the wood edged matching fruit basket decorated couch and love seat set. At least it was clean. Religious Saturday morning cleaning rituals prior to being able to leave the house would ensure that.
I swept Max away from the front door, swiped a towel from the hallway closet (Flowered. Sigh.), thwapped it into his chest and sped through directions on how to work the shower head. I left him to cleanse himself and went to make us some sandwiches. I ate mine while I made his and was feeling well and stuffed when I heard Max come out of the bathroom.
“Hey,” I yelled. “I’ve got your food in here. If you want you can eat at the counter or in the living room or…” I turned in mid — shout and almost ran into Max. I took a step back and went to finish what I was saying, but I lost the words.
I don’t think I had ever really looked at Max before. He was new this year and, being only a couple weeks into the semester, I hadn’t had many encounters with him. We had last period together, English, but he sat in the back next to the door and I sat in the front on the opposite side of the room. He kept his head down, hiding behind the hair that hung down in his face. I hadn’t really seen him, but I was seeing him now. Max was beautiful.
He was about six inches taller than me which would put him at about six feet tall. He was lean, but muscular with pale skin. He had piercing blue eyes that were clear which made the black of his irises darker. His hair was usually shaggy, but wet and slicked back, I could see his face.
He had a strong jaw, but full cheeks and high cheekbones. His complexion was perfect and smooth except for a four day shadow on his cheeks. Which in high school shadow meant he probably hadn’t shaved in two weeks. His eyes had long black curly lashes that framed his eyes. He had an eyebrow ring. And I think I saw a tattoo peeking out from beneath his t — shirt sleeve.
The hands he held up to me to keep me from running into him were large and strong. I made a point to try not to stare and failed. Quite thoroughly. He was clean and smelled good and looked good. And I wanted to touch him. I felt hungry again.
When it was obvious I was not going to fall he put his hands down. When I didn’t move at all he blinked at me and tilted his head to the side slightly. I blushed and turned away.
“Your food is on the counter.” I stammered. “Eat wherever you want. I’m gonna take a shower.” I snaked around him and into the hall, grabbed a change of clothes from my room and went into the bathroom to shower and regroup.
A strange hot guy ate sandwiches in my kitchen and as soon as my shower ended, I had to entertain him. Holy crap.
To stave off a pathetic girlie freak out, I shot the temp from warm to arctic to get myself to snap out of it. Then I soaped, scrubbed, and rattled my brain for an idea.
I would think of something.
Clean and feeling much more myself, I found Max on the couch watching an action flick he had pulled from our video library. I audibly sighed in relief. Pressure off. The movie was one of my favorites and I had no problem watching it again. I brushed my hair while I sat there, enjoying the ritual. I have long, curly hair. Getting up in the morning to shower before school, I never get the time to do more than throw it in a ponytail and head out the door leaving knots to deal with at night before bed.
The movie ended like it always did, but I was still on the edge of my seat the entire time. When it was done I took it out that movie and another movie appeared in front of me. It was a comedy, also one of my favorites. I took it from Max and popped it in.
It was relaxing. I barely knew Max, but I was comfortable sitting in my living room watching some of the best movies on the planet with him. My opinion, but it seemed we shared similar tastes. He seemed relaxed too. By the time the movie was over my stomach was growling.
“I am hungry again.” I said, “How about you?”
“You got any snacks?” Max got off the couch and moved toward the kitchen.
“You sit at the counter and I’ll cook. You like French toast?” Our paths diverged, mine to the kitchen, his to sit at the counter on a stool and observe my limited cooking prowess.
“So,” I began as I beat the eggs. “What do you think happened? I mean, no wait, let me start with…ok, what I saw was or what I remember is I ran into you and…wait, did it start there?” I knew I was babbling, but I wanted to start talking about it. I wanted to get him to start talking about it, but he just sat there watching me cook. So I added vanilla and continued. “Anyways, I ran into you and I felt this weird moment of Zen or connection or something, but weird.” I put the frying pan on the stove and turned it on. “And then I go into the gym and I see all the dusty haziness on the ceiling. I go to tell Coach Pink about it, but he thinks I’m trying to start something, which I was so not.” I took the bread and butter out of the fridge, taking a quick breather, and then I turned back to the stove and Max. “That made me feel weird. Cause he gave me a weird look.” I paused, bread above egg substance, “I am saying weird a lot. I’ll try to stop that, but it was all so…strange!” Dunk, dunk, flip of the bread, dunk, dunk, splat into the pan and sizzle. “Ok, so swirling dust and I see you seeing it and then the tendrils stabbing down at people and no one sees anything!” I shout and flip the toast in the pan. “And then I see the one attacking you and I run at you, as if I am going to help.” I pull plates out of the cupboard. “And then we run into each other and the big whiteness of white that engulfs us all, but again NO ONE sees it. And then all the dust is gone, everyone is happy and we fall unconscious.” I flip a piece of French toast on a plate and set it in front of Max. “Did I miss anything?”
“Nope, that pretty much covers it. Except that the dust, if that is what you are calling it, was not in there when I first went into the gym. I didn’t see it until after we ran into each other. Fork?”
Max’s answer came out nonchalant and easy. Smooth. I looked at Max and paused. He actually took in everything that I had just said, how I said it, and had responded in turn with a full and sensible response.
“Becca, fork?”
“Yeah, uh, yeah.” I opened the drawer.
“Why are you so surprised?” he took the fork from my hand that was just hanging out in midair since I stood frozen by his first statement.
I had started on another batch of French toast for me when he said between bites, “You’re not bad looking either.” And chuckled when I blushed. I threw the kitchen towel at him.
“Seriously, whatever it was and whatever happened, apparently almost killed us.” I said. “And only because we were together?”
“It didn’t almost kill us. We just needed sleep. And to eat. Thanks,” he pointed at his plate with his fork, “this is pretty good.”
“It almost killed us, Max. We were out for two days, the doctors had no idea what happened to us and my mother was asleep clutching my hand. When I woke she was…Max, she was surprised. Not like ‘oh she’s awake now’ surprised. She was ‘I didn’t expect her to ever wake up again’ surprised.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“I don’t exaggerate.”
Max gave me a look. “I have known you for less than…”
“Not about serious stuff. Really Max. How did you feel? How do you feel? And what happened?”
We just looked at each other for a moment. I lifted my hand, palm up toward him and waited. It took him a second but eventually he lifted his hand off the counter and, palm towards me, moved it toward my hand slowly. As they got closer the skin on our palms and then our hands began to lighten. More so the closer we got until they looked like they were glowing. We held them an inch away from each other. But I could feel every shift and movement in Max’s body. He was nervous and concerned, like me. There was warmth but no extreme heat. I had put my hand up but I let him make the move.
When our hands touched there was a very tiny brightening and the glow remained where our hands touched. The reason we both immediately jumped apart was that it felt like I was in his thoughts and he in mine. It felt like he was in my body and knew every little inner most detail about me, and me about him. It was a tsunami of feeling and information. The force of it may have pushed us apart as much as we had moved on our own. I leaned back against the kitchen sink and just starred at Max who gripped the back of the barstool chair he had been sitting on and who starred at me. We both breathed heavily.
The smell of burning snapped me out of it and I flipped my charred toast into the garbage and busied myself with putting another set on.
“You want some more.” I said quietly, avoiding his gaze and trying not to show how shaken I was by what had happened.
“Yeah, sure.” He said and sat back in the chair. His voice was breathless as well and not as confident as it had been earlier.
I made and we ate our French toast in silence. When we were finished I was not as shook. I gathered up the dishes and started to clean them. He helped me, but we made a point to keep our distance. We were drawing it out a little and moving slower and slower at the task as it finished. Finally, he put down the dish towel and I had closed the dishwasher door and we were left just standing there looking at each other.
“Well, that was weird.” I had just meant to break the silence and start us talking. Instead I was surprised to see Max crack a smile, and then a grin and then he started to laugh. It didn’t get it. And then I did. I had made the understatement of the century. Soon we were both laughing in the kitchen together, gripping our sides and trying to stay upright.
“You guys seem to be doing much better.” My mom set her purse down on the counter with a thunk. Both sounds jarred us and the funny disappeared in an instant. Reality just got home.
She gave me a quick hug and a kiss. Then she grabbed my face in each of her hands and analyzed it. “You still need sleep though. Have you taken a nap today? That’s a silly question, of course you have not.” She let me go. “Ok, Becca, to your room. Max, the guest room. You are both taking a nap and I will wake you up when dinner is ready. Oh, and Max, by the way.” She turned to him. “You are staying here tonight and I am taking you and Becca to school tomorrow. No objections. I spoke to you about it this morning, but I am reiterating myself. You will stay here tonight.” It looked like Max was going to try to say something, but gave up as my mother spoke right over him not giving him an opportunity to speak. “So you go right into the guest room, Becca will show you the where it is, and you will go to sleep. Even though you are feeling better I can see it in your faces. You are both still exhausted. You will go out almost instantly. Now go.” She shooed us out of the kitchen and down the hall. No arguments or objections allowed.
I showed Max the guest room and made sure he had a pillow and everything.
“Good night?” I said as I left the room. “Sleep tight?” Max laid down on top of the covers fully dress and closed his eyes. I walked out of the room but poked my head through the door and asked, “Don’t let the bed bugs bite?” in a whisper.
“Shut up, Becca.” Was the only answer I got to my lame and failed attempt at renewing the funny between us as I closed the door behind me.
I slept so hard that when I woke up it felt like no time had passed. I felt heavy with sleep, but the smell of fried chicken got me up and out of bed. Like a silly cartoon where the character is limp and floats on the cloud of smell to its source. Fried chicken is fried happiness.
I dropped a kiss on my mom’s cheek as I passed through the kitchen, but I was a little groggy and almost hit her ear. “Good Morning, sunshine.” She chided me and dished up fried chicken onto a plate with mashed potatoes and broccoli. I walked it around the counter to the dining room table where Max sat at the head. He had clearly been there for some time. His plate was nearly empty. He looked up mid — bite. I gave him a sleepy smile and plopped down in the chair next to him and began eating.
“Becca, Jenny Reynolds called while you were asleep, wondering how you were.” My mom came around the counter herself and took a seat. She looked at me. “She hasn’t been over since…” she paused as a flash of sad tightened her face, then said, “in a while. It was nice that she called. You should call her after dinner.”
Jenny Reynolds had been one of my two best friends since we moved here in the fourth grade. I did have to admit that I was mostly to blame for our friendship fizzling. Well, ending abruptly would be more accurate. I did not return her phone calls and she found a new group of friends. And that was fine. I saw her in the halls a couple times a week at school and she was happy, popular and had a boyfriend. I missed her sometimes, but I had been fine without her.
“I don’t think I have her number anymore.” I said and continued to eat. Max had finished eating and just watched us. Well, me, leaning back in his chair, hair slightly messed and hanging over one eye. The sleeves were pushed up on his black long sleeve t — shirt revealing large amounts of pale skin. His right arm was up and gripping the back of the chair just behind his head. There were two inch long white scars just above his elbow and running perpendicular to it. I hadn’t noticed them before but they were very noticeable with his arm bent at that angle. He noticed my starring and put his arm down, then got up with his plate and went into the kitchen.
“I got it from Jenny when she called just in case. So you can call her after dinner.” I am not sure what sort of face I wore but after looking at me she added, “Becca, it was really nice of her to call.”
“I can talk to her tomorrow at school if I see her.” I didn’t really want to talk to her. I didn’t know how to feel about her calling me. It would have been easier if she hadn’t.
“I think you should call her tonight. You haven’t talked to her in a really long time. And she used to be one of your best friends.” Mom was pushing and I felt myself need to push back.
“What about Linda, Mom? Or Janet? When was the last time you talked to them? They used to be one of your best friends, too.” I knew I was starting a fight I didn’t want to start, but I was angry. She hit a sore spot I didn’t want to look at, let alone talk about.
“We aren’t talking about me, Becca. We are talking about you. Someone does something kind for you, you do something kind back.” She was angry as well, but was containing it better than I was. Only the glance of Max in the kitchen behind my mother watching it all enabled me to keep my frustration contained and reply with, “Yeah. I’ll call her. After dinner.”
Max came back with a full plate and we ate in silence. I thought about what had just happened. My mom’s comment about Jenny and calling her really upset me and I wasn’t sure why.
When we were finished Max thanked my mom for dinner, and I concurred knowing she had made it as my favorite. My mother’s response was, “Becca, why don’t you go call Jenny in your bedroom and Max and I will do the dishes.” I took my dishes to the sink, grabbed my backpack, and went into the bedroom to call Jenny. I might have stomped down the hall.
I sat on the bed and looked at my phone for a minute, maybe two. Why was this so hard? I thought. Then I dialed.
Ring, Ring, Ring
“Hello,” said a female voice.
I knew it was her but I said, “Is Jenny there?”
“Becca?”
“Hey, Jenny. My mom told me you called earlier. What’s up?”
“Are you ok?” Her voice was a little high and she talked really fast with almost no inflection. Matter of fact. My mom always called her too smart for her own good, usually after she had just scolded me for an adventure Jenny and I had just been caught at. An adventure that had usually been Jenny’s idea. “I mean, they told us at school that you were fine, but you were still in the hospital so I figured they were lying.” Jenny, always the conspiracy theorist. “It was so weird to see you two just collapse and stuff. So are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Slept forever and I’ve been so hungry I eat every chance I get. But I’m good.”
“Did you get electrocuted or something?”
“The doctors said they didn’t know. That or exhaustion.”
She didn’t respond right away and I knew she was thinking that through. I knew by saying the bit about the doctors that it would get her going. In that she hadn’t changed. I wanted to see how much Jenny had changed and how much was the same old Jenny.
“You know what that could mean? That you were electrocuted and now they are trying to cover it up.” She said.
Same old Jenny, I thought and I found I was smiling. I had missed her. “Why?”
“Well, they don’t want to get sued. I bet they already ordered new sound equipment and the rally next week will be cancelled unless it gets here in time. They may not even let Max run it.”