Biker Class (15 page)

"She's…" Jake muttered, watching his father like he was the
only grip of reality in the room, "she's… n-not…"

"Not coming back," Mr. Cooper whispered.

Suddenly, Jake stood up, making his chair screech against the floor.
His face was angry as he stared
at
his father. His
fists were clenched. "So… it was just
that
easy, huh?"

His father leaned forward, the veins in his neck bulging as his temper
flared. "Excuse me?"

"Well, uh,
didn't
take long for you to get rid of her,
huh?" Jake sneered, stepping aside from his chair and scooting it back in,
grabbing the back of it with his knuckles white.

"Are you accusing me of
trying
to make your mother
leave?" he whispered in a deadly voice, eyes squinted.

"Pretty obvious," his son snorted. "I don't know how
you didn't see this coming,
Dad
. Sometimes people leave when you fight
with them
every single night
!"

His father bolted out of his chair as well, fists clenching and
unclenching. "Oh, don't even try and put this on me!" he screamed
loudly, punching the air. "I didn't do
anything
wrong! It was all
her
!
I give, and I give, and I give, and you know what she gave me?
Nothing
!
NOTHING!" Mr. Cooper grabbed a nearby vase and slammed it onto the floor,
it shattering into millions of pieces, making Melanie jump and scream at the
surprise of it.

"Because you didn't
deserve
anything!" Jake yelled
back at him, getting up in his father's face. "You are
selfish, greedy,
and don't care about
anyone
but yourself! You never have time for
anybody anymore! You're always at work!"

"Jake, you are sixteen now," his father said, trying to calm
his voice, "you should understand the responsibility and what I have to do
to keep this place running! You know that
lovely
little motorcycle out
there of yours? Bought with
my
money! For
you
!"

"Jake, you're eighteen," Melanie stated, her voice uneven.
Something was wrong here. Something was off.

"See? Money is all you ever care about anymore! How could she
not
leave?" he demanded, angrily pounding the wall. "And let me ask you
something,
Dad
," Jake sneered, stepping closer to him until they
were almost nose-to-nose. "That 'lovely little motorcycle' out there… did
you even go buy it for me? Huh?" His father was silent, just staring at
him with eyes wild and jaw set. "Yeah, maybe it was your money, but who
went out and bought it, Dad? Who went out and
looked at it
? Who knew the
kind
of bike I liked, huh?" Jake stepped back and shook his head,
scoffing to himself. "Not you."

"I do
all kinds
of things for you," he began, fury in
his eyes.

"No. No, you don't," he shook his head, his bottom lip bit.
He looked up from the ground and back to his father's mad eyes. "You do it
for you."

Jake stepped back, looking at his father with the utmost
disappointment. Mr. Cooper yelled out and grabbed a nearby lamp, throwing it to
the ground. The bulb shattered and the shade went rolling across the floor as
his father marched out of the room, mumbling under his breath.

Melanie didn't know what to do. She couldn't believe what she had just
witnessed. What… what was going on? Mr. Cooper had just said that
Jake was
sixteen
now, but no
,
he
was eighteen
! Every time she spoke, they kept talking as if she wasn't
there. It was like they couldn't hear her.

With churning of her stomach, she realized with a whimper:

They
couldn't
hear her.

They couldn't see her. She wasn't there as far as they were concerned.
She could scream and stomp and do whatever she wished, and they wouldn't even
lift a finger.
How was this possible?
How was she here?
Why
was
she here?

Melanie's throat ached as her head snapped around, looking at
everything as if she was expecting it to jump out and eat her. Things no longer
seemed real, everything was blurry and swirling in her state of shock…
accept
Jake. He stood, perfectly in balance, as the world
seemed to fade out around him. Melanie was hit by a load of emotions all at
once. She wanted to go up to him, shake his shoulders, and try and get his
attention. She wanted to scream and demand where and why she was. She wanted to
run out of the door and run back down that long road from which she came. But
most of all…

Melanie wanted to comfort him. The kind heart that was inside her was
desperate to reach out to him and make the pain go away. He was grasping onto
the back of one of the chairs, leaning on it for support. Melanie knew that he
couldn't see her, or
hear
her, or knew that she even
existed, but she didn't care.

She slowly stepped into the room, stopping directly in front of the
(now she realized) not-so-tough California biker. His arm was extended,
straight, as he leaned against the table, slumped, staring at the ground with
brows pulled together in anger and hurt.

"I'm sorry," Melanie whispered. She knew it would make no
difference, but she didn't care. She said it anyway.
Someone
needed to
be on his side.

Suddenly, Jake's eyes shot up from the ground, staring straight ahead.
Melanie was frightened at the intensity of his stare. She knew that he couldn't
see her, that he had to just be staring off into nothing in misery, but… his
eyes
.
They were miserable, blood-shot, exhausted. Then, with a pang of pity, Melanie
realized that they were wet.
Tear stains
ran down his
face, but he didn't cry out or sniffle. He gazed
right
into her eyes,
disorienting Melanie. He couldn't see her… right? But he was staring
right
into her eyes
… She could almost swear that…

Melanie opened her mouth, going to speak, but then closed it again.
Her eyes were so incredibly sympathetic, trying to reach out to him. He needed
someone.
Someone who cared.

Then suddenly, Jake stepped back, still looking at her, then turned.
He was shaking his head, running a hand through his hair. He looked towards the
staircase,
then
bolted up them. Melanie just stood
where she was, frozen, in shock. She snapped out of it when his heavy footsteps
banged down the stairs and he appeared, shoving random articles of clothing
into a small black bag. He dropped a yellow shirt and picked it back up
hastily, shoving it into the pack with the rest of
it's
contents. He stopped at the door with his hand on the knob, looking back at the
house and then to the room with a broken vase and shattered lamp on the floor
as beacons. Melanie could have sworn that he glanced her way before turning the
knob and leaving, slamming the door. She rushed to a nearby window and watched
as he sped away on his shiny 'new' Harley.

Suddenly, it seemed to become darker. The light in the dining room
flickered and turned off, and the sun began to set at an unnatural pace. The
house began to shrink smaller, the walls closing in. Melanie gasped, rushing to
the door Jake had just used, tugging at the knob with her heart racing.

It was locked.

Suddenly, the ground began to shake. She screamed, a vase full of
flowers scooting off of a nearby stand and falling to the floor with a
deafening crash. It echoed in her ears as the
floor boards
began to pull apart. Suddenly, the Welcome mat beneath her feet began to rip
into pieces and she cried out for help.

Melanie fell into the dark hole of nothingness.

And she fell.

And fell.

And fell.

"HELP ME!"

With a jolt at her own scream, Melanie bolted up in her bed, sweating
heavily and shaking. Her eyes darted around the room desperately, sighing as
she finally realized where she was. Her door swung open and her light flicked
on.

"Melanie, what's wrong?" her frantic mother demanded of her,
rushing in with a flashlight and open arms. Melanie launched herself into them
without a second thought.

"I… I…" she stuttered, looking around while an unsettling
truth settled in on her. "I was dreaming."

"Oh, thank God," Ms. Hart sighed, stroking her daughter's
hair. "I thought someone was breaking into your room! You scared me!"

"I scared me, too," Melanie laughed, running a hand through
her partially wet hair.

"Are you
gonna
be okay, sweetie?"
she asked. Ms. Hart put Melanie's hair behind her ear. "Can I go back to
bed?"

"Yeah," Melanie nodded, her voice uneven.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Melanie quickly shook her head. "No!"

"All right, all right," she put her hands up in surrender.
She kissed Melanie's forehead. "Goodnight. Try to go back to sleep."

"Okay, Mom."

The door closed softly and Melanie sighed heavily. This was taking
over her life way more than it should be. But she needed to calm down. It was
only a dream.

... Right?

"Melanie!" Connie Hart yelled over the churning of the
blender in her arms. "Wake up! School starts in twenty minutes!"

Melanie's tired eyes shot open. Her sleepy eyes struggled to adjust to
the sudden amount of light as she yawned. Realization deciding to hit her in
the gut right then, Melanie jumped up and grabbed her alarm clock in anxiety.

7:40

"Oh,
my gosh
," she whispered to
herself. "Oh. My. Gosh. Oh, my gosh!" Suddenly becoming as energetic
as an Olympic runner, she raced out of bed and straight into the bathroom. She
splashed water on her face and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She
looked like an insomniac, and considering it had only been one night, Melanie
was frightened. Shaking her head trying to release her thoughts, she grabbed
her blue toothbrush and furiously brushed her teeth. Grabbing her hairbrush,
she ran it through her hair in a feeble attempt to fix her case of bed-head.
After, she took her contact lens case and took out the thin lenses, placing
them in her eyes quickly, causing a horrible stinging sensation. She had
forgotten to rinse them first.

"Ah!" she gasped quietly. "This is horrible!"

This sort of behavior was unusual for Melanie. On normal days, she
would promptly wake up at seven sharp, no alarm clock needed (with the
exception of Moving Day). She'd never rush, do everything prim and properly,
and be ready on time. Not once, in her seventeen years, had she ever slept in
late when she had somewhere to be.
Never
. This was as foreign to her as
getting a bad grade on a test.

Ten agonizing and disoriented minutes later, she was ready. Well, her
hair was a bit wavier than usual and she looked as if she hadn't slept in ages.
But other than that, she supposed she was okay. Melanie always preferred to be
cleanly groomed, but she wasn't shallow enough to care if she wasn't as
good-looking as usual.

Melanie rushed down the stairs and plopped on a kitchen chair,
sighing. "Morning, Mom."

Connie raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Quite a morning
indeed."

"What?" Melanie asked, groggily. She eyed her mother with a
sleepy glare.

"It's seven fifty," Connie explained, pointing to the clock
in emphasis. "Since when have you woken up at
seven fifty
?"

Melanie groaned. "I have no idea. I'm just so tired."

"Hmm?" Connie pursed. "Sweetie, this might have
something to do with your bad dream you had last night. You hardly ever have
nightmares. You were bound to have one sometime, and, in turn, lose some sleep
from it."

"Dream? What dream…?" Melanie's
voice
trailed off as she suddenly remember
what happened last night.

"
See? Money is all you ever care about anymore! How could she
not leave?" he demanded, angrily pounding the wall. "And let me ask
you something, Dad," Jake sneered, stepping closer to him until they were
almost nose-to-nose. "That 'lovely little motorcycle' out there… did you
even go buy it for me? Huh?" His father was silent, just staring at him
with eyes wild and jaw set. "Yeah, maybe it was your money, but who went
out and bought it, Dad? Who went out and looked at it? Who knew the kind of
bike I liked
,
huh?" Jake stepped back and shook his head, scoffing
to himself. "Not you."

"Dream," she whispered. "Jake." It was hard to
forget her oddly dramatic and realistic nightmare.

"What was that?" her mother asked, now washing the dishes.

"Nothing," Melanie lied. "Um, you know what, Mom? I
need to get to school!" She chuckled nervously. "Don't want to be
late!"

"But you haven't even eaten breakfast!" Connie frowned with
a plate of flapjacks in her hands. "I made pancakes! Your favorite! And
see?" she grinned in a persevering way. "I made them in the shapes of
cows, like back home!"

Melanie smiled slightly at the thoughtfulness of her mom, scurrying to
the door. "Yeah... I'm not very hungry. Bye!" she waved as she left.
When Melanie hopped out of the door and towards a nearby bus stop, a sickening
wave of guilt overwhelmed her stomach. The look in Ms. Hart's eyes when she
turned down the cow pancakes almost broke her heart.

Connie sighed,
then
looked at the platter
before her.

"Well..." she sighed to herself. "More for me
then?"

***

"What?" Rachel asked, dropping the cookie from her mouth to
the tray. It landed with a comical clatter. "You dreamed that?" Her
eyes were as wide as saucers, but her body was leaning back, away from her
friend, almost in a frightened way.

Melanie nodded solemnly, looking down at her lunch tray. "Yeah.
Weird, huh?" She was still having trouble believing it herself.

"More like
creepy
," Rachel frowned. "You know Jake's
mom really did leave, right?"

Melanie's mouth dropped, eyes bulging. "What?"

Rachel nodded. "Two years ago, when Jake was sixteen. It was
going around the grade for a while. Some people were guessing it might be the
possible reason that he was acting out. All I heard was that one day, she just
packed up her things and left. I remember once passing by their house and
seeing a practically wrecked motorcycle upside-down in their garbage can out by
the road." She shook her head. "It was really bad."

"Oh my gosh..." Melanie breathed, her heart suddenly
deciding of it's own accord to pound. "This– this is… this can't be
possible."

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked, suspiciously munching on a
bright green apple.

Melanie let out a breath before beginning to elaborate on her freakish
occurrence. "In my dream, Jake was sixteen. His dad had given him a
motorcycle but he had yelled at him about how stupid of a 'compensation' that
was for his mom leaving."

Rachel's eyes bugged out. "Oh my gosh, Melanie, it's like you can
see the past. That's crazy. And you're his tutor?
Freaky
."

"Maybe it's…" Melanie began to suggest, but she stopped
herself, unsure of what she was going to say to finish.

"Maybe it's... what?" Rachel egged on.

Suddenly, the bell rang, buzzing their ears with the reminder that
lunch was over. The typical hustle and bustle of students beginning to talk
louder and scraping chairs filled the room.

Melanie sighed and stood up. "I don't know. I honestly
don't."

***

"So, if you out a radical around two squared that, would
be...?" Melanie asked Jake, who was lazily sprawled on her bed, much to
her discomfort. First of all, Melanie enjoyed a nice, clean, orderly space, and
Jake wrinkling her bedspread without a care and moving pillows was a personal
pet peeve.

"Uh..." he fished, twirling his phone around in his
disinterested palm. "Five?"

Melanie shook her head in exasperation, but cautious to make sure that
she didn't scold in too much of a controversial matter. She was glad that she
was actually starting to get
used
to handling him. "Good God, Jake.
Are you listening to anything I'm saying?"

"Yeah!" Jake defended, but his voice was dull and his mind
sounded like it was elsewhere. "We're talking about geography, right?
Squares?"

Melanie pinched the bridge of her nose. "First of all, that's
geometry, and secondly–"

"I honestly couldn't care less,
Melanie
," he rolled
his eyes, saying her name with vigor as a form of entertainment for himself.
She bristled.

"Kids?" Connie called, peering out of her doorway. "I'm
doing a deep cleaning of the house."

"Uh, Mom," Melanie laughed a bit awkwardly. "That's
nice, I guess. But, how–?"

"I need to do your room now."

"Well, we're kind of busy," she returned, not in the mood to
be interrupted yet again. "Could you wait until Jake leaves and then do
it?"

"No, honey, I need to do it now if you want that chemical smell
to fade by the time you go to bed," Ms. Hart sighed, leaning against the
doorframe and running a hand through her short, dark hair. "You know what?
Not that I want to tell you how to do your job or anything, but don't you think
you and Jake have been studying long enough?"

"I do," Jake said immediately, shooting his tired hand into
the air.

"Yeah, Melanie," her mother nodded in her defiant direction,
"how long have you two been studying now? Half an hour?"

"But, Mom, Jake needs to know this–"

"It's not like he isn't coming next week," Connie grinned. Jake
mirrored it, but it was more of a smirk, in Melanie's direction. He sat up on
the edge of her twin bed, elbows on knees. "You can keep with it at school
or here next Wednesday."

"Yeah, we can keep with it at school or here next
Wednesday," Jake repeated to Melanie, saying it in a tone that she was
sure could allure to a different meaning as well. But it was too subtle for her
mother to pick up, making Melanie even more hesitant to give them any time
alone that didn't require studying. Then she didn't have an excuse to not look
at him!

"It's a nice day out," Ms. Hart smiled. "Why don't you
two go outside? Or maybe just walk around the house or something? Just give
your minds a break. Jake looks like he could use it."

It doesn't take that much to tire out Jake's brain
, Melanie
thought before she could stop herself.

Jake, with brows raised and bottom lip protruding, nodded his head in
agreement with her mom. She really didn't appreciate his mocking manner, but
she knew that Ms. Hart was probably right (unfortunately). He probably did need
a break if she wanted to get anything out of him.

"All right," Melanie finally gave in, standing up and
slamming the geometry book closed. Jake stood up as well, stretching. He flexed
his muscles subtly, but just enough for Melanie to notice but not her mother.
She rolled her eyes and looked away, slightly flushed, before leading Jake down
to the living room.

They both sat down on the couch, and Melanie looked around. Her mother
had obviously already taken care of this space, and she could tell. It looked,
smelled, and just
felt
cleaner. Melanie and Jake sat there, twiddling
their thumbs, looking around.

"You know," she finally said, breaking the awkward silence,
looking terribly embarrassed, "you can leave if you want. I'm not going to
make you stay here. Since we aren't studying or anything, I'm sure you probably
want to get out of here and, uh… go hang out with your friends."
And do
who knows what else
, she thought, having to force herself not to shudder.

Jake didn't particularly enjoy the feeling that rose in the pit of his
chest as he watched Melanie sigh, looking at the ground. She acted as if she
was sure that the second they were doing something that didn't benefit him, he
would want to leave. Which was partly true. But
any
time he spent with
her, little did she know, would benefit him in the end.

"Uh, no, I don't have… I don't have anything better to do,"
he told her, wanting to smile but not sure it would come out convincingly.

Suddenly, shrill and consistent barking interrupted them. Lucky was
leaning against a windowsill close by to the couch, staring through the glass
at Jake with hate and growling, his small white teeth gleaming in the sun. Melanie
jumped up from the couch and rushed to the window.

"No! No, Lucky! Bad dog! No barking!" she scolded, shooing
him away. Lucky looked back and forth between the biker and his owner, defeated.
He barked one last time at Jake and trotted away, his little furry head held
high. Melanie returned to the couch, apologizing.

"Sorry," she said weakly, smiling nervously. "About
him… and the fact that we don't really have much to do here."

"It's cool," he said, not knowing anything else to mention.
Suddenly, an idea came to him. It would be a good way to pass the time
and
get on her good side. "Is there anything around here that you might,
maybe… need help with or something?"

"What do you mean?" she
rose
her
brows.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Jake repeated,
realizing the double meaning to that phrase
after
it exited his mouth.
When she turned red, he continued hastily. "You know, anything around the
house? Like, a Man Job?" He tried to laugh, flexing his biceps. Melanie
smiled, realizing his effort to appease the situation.

She raked her brain for any such task. "No, I can't really think
of anything." They both sighed. "Well…" Jake glanced up, "…
there's a stuck doorknob upstairs," she mentioned significantly.

"Doorknob?" his right eyebrow rose.

"Is that not enough of a
Man Job
?" she smiled. He
returned it, perhaps the least-forced yet.

"I'll give it a shot, Hart," Jake winked, rising from the
couch with Melanie close behind.

***

"See? It doesn't… doesn't matter what I do, it won't– won't
open," she struggled, twisting the brass knob. She pulled, pried, and
turned, but the door stayed where it was, almost mocking her. Jake watched her
struggle with it, trying not to laugh at how weak she was. He was just getting
on her good side, he thought. He didn't want to ridicule her and ruin it.