Burning Emerald (9 page)
Authors: Jaime Reed
I couldn't stay in one place for too long, and my skin prickled at the slightest touch. Lilith whined and clawed at my insides, pining for Capone as I did for my own companion. Conversations whispered in my ear; laughter and arguments tickled the hairs on my arms with their ghostly presence. Phantoms emerged, transforming my room into a crowded house party of memories, multiplying and taking more than their share of space.
I was a nervous wreck, crying at random over the dumbest stuff: running out of shampoo, burning my tongue on the soup Mom had brought me, and staring at the jar of quarters sitting on my dresser. For months, I had collected those coins as tokens of Caleb's affection, a code only we could understand and truly cherish. Two hundred and fifteen “I Love Yous” safely deposited in an old mason jar, gaining interest by the hour.
I sat on the floor and poured out the jar and counted the quarters, carefully tending to each one of my children. When the numbers didn't add up, I tore my room apart trying to find the missing quarter. Screaming my anger to the heavens, I checked under tables, chairs, and piles of clothes with no success. My hands shook, reporting my crisis to every known part of my body. Breathing and all other functions stopped in response to this state of emergency.
Mom burst into the room with a baseball bat, ready to do battle. “Samara! What's wrong? What happened?”
“One is missing! It's gone. It was right here.” I crawled on my knees and swiped my hands across the carpet, my eyes scanning for anything small and shiny. Tears blurred my sight, so I had to rely on touch to continue my search. “I remember fifty-three-seventy-five. There's only fifty-three-fifty.”
Mom dropped her bat and joined me on the floor. “Samara, calm down. We'll find it. You probably miscounted.”
“No! It was here. I lost him. I can't find him. Mom, help me, please!” I burrowed under my bed, tossing out items I hadn't seen in years. A solid grip captured my waist and pulled me out. “No! I have to find it. I can't lose it. It's mine!”
“Baby, stop. Please, just stop.” Mom trapped me in her arms and rocked me back and forth. “Hush now. Just breathe. We'll find it, even if it takes all night. I'll count with you. Accountants are good with numbers, remember? Baby, please, just be still.” Her voice broke as she crooned and shushed me quiet. I didn't know who trembled more, me or her.
I now had a taste of what Mom had gone through when she finally split with Dadâthe loss, the vulnerability. I wondered which hurt worse: watching someone you love marry and start a new family without you, or helplessly watching a loved one die before your eyes like Caleb's father had. Both paths ended in grief, the slowest kind of death.
I wiped my eyes on Mom's sweatshirt. I'd never told her the significance of the coins, but I was sure she knew it had to do with Caleb. Cradling me in her arms, she dragged the jar to us and began counting one by one. After twenty minutes of searching, we found the missing coin in my sock. Too drained to do anything else, I climbed into bed in a full-body collapse, tucking the coin jar next to me.
Mom sat at the foot of the bed, having watched her daughter lose her mind over pocket change and been powerless to do anything about it.
“I knew this was going to happen. Evangeline warned me about this, but ...” Mom swallowed noisily. With a broken voice, she said, “This is only the beginning.”
9
F
inding something to wear for my first day back to school was a true act of futility.
inding something to wear for my first day back to school was a true act of futility.
The person staring through the mirror wasn't me, but an addict fresh out of detox. A hooded sweatshirt and jeans draped over my body in shapeless layers of fabric. My skin looked waxy and almost green from the lack of sun. Unfocused eyes hid behind dark shadows with their emerald luster gone. No need to sugarcoat it, I looked busted. It mirrored my enthusiasm for school, so I was good to go. Just the thought of solid food made me nauseous, so I downed some orange juice, pecked Mom on the cheek, and set out.
James City High's welcoming party came with a powder keg and a hard dose of reality. Word of the Halloween freak show had gone viral, reaching both students and faculty. The good news: my instructors fell into a more diplomatic approach to teaching, even offered a sympathetic ear if I needed counseling. Their compassion helped ease the burden of makeup exams and overdue projects.
The bad news: I got more hostile glares and dubious whispers, along with the most outlandish yarns I'd ever heard. The ringleader to this circus was Courtney B., who recommended drug rehab and gave unwanted dating advice. As if I would take any advice from someone who couldn't remember my name.
“You know, Samantha, you have your whole life ahead of you,” she said, walking beside me on my way to gym. “Hanging around bad elements is bound to ruin your future in fast food, but it's good that you know now. Poor Caleb, what a tragic end, but in time you'll move on.” She looked down at me in feigned sympathy, then strolled ahead with the other two Courtneys flanked at her sides.
Not even ten seconds later, Alicia leapt into my arms, frantic and out of breath. “Ohmigod, Sam! I heard you were in the hospital and the police are after Caleb because he tried to kill you with an arrow. Are you okay? Did you get stitches?”
“What? No, Alicia, I'm fine. He had a food allergy and now he's in a coma.”
She sprang back in shock. “Oh no! I hope he's okay.” She covered her mouth, then frowned when a question struck her. “Wait, if Caleb was the one that got sick, then why were youâ”
“Wow, look at the time!” I announced a little too loud and checked the clock by the bulletin board. “I'm gonna be late for gym. I'll let Caleb know you asked about himâ'kay, bye!” I quickened my steps before she could follow me.
It only got worse from there. The rumor mill kept churning out hit after hit, more exaggerated with each telling: epic explosions, bloodshed, and supernatural fervor that would make Stan Lee slap his forehead. Only my lunchmates dared to ask about that white elephant in the room, so I gave them the director's cut of what happened. For the obvious reasons, specific scenes were removed and would forever remain on the cutting room floor.
Girls became more vicious toward me, which resulted in a scuffle in the girls' bathroom. I could hold my own in a fistfight, but I was outnumbered by four irate girls with sharp nails and a false sense of entitlement. During this ambush, my enemies accused me of stealing boyfriends, ruining prom and future marriage plans, and jeopardizing the survival of mankind.
“You think you all that, don't you?” a very butch junior asked while shoving me against the sink. It was a rhetorical question that I had no time to answer.
“Yeah, she does, with her phony contacts, trying to look white. You're so fake!” A toad-face-looking girl with no neck joined in, yanking my head back by the roots of my hair.
I now understood why Caleb abhorred violence. Our spirits needed no reason to go on a murderous rampage, and I couldn't risk the exposure. Lilith was pissed, eager to wring these heifers dry on my behalf, but to unhook her leash was straight suicide.
With a busted lip and a chunk of my hair missing, I survived the catfight and wound up in detention for my selfless act. At least there I would get a chance to do homework.
Or so I'd thought.
After the final bell, I made my way to the in-school suspension class. My smart mouth had led me to this room more times than I'd like to remember, so I knew the drill. Occupying the desks in the front was a set of clones, wearing black high-laced boots, heavy eyeliner, and a practiced look of boredom.
The usual suspects loomed in the back, the potheads, the brawlers, and to my surprise, Mia. She couldn't have stood out more if she lit up in bold neon, and it threw me off guard to see such an elitist kickin' it with derelicts. I gave my detention slip to the dozing teacher and scooted my way up the row toward the back.
I took a seat next to her and smiled. “ 'Sup.”
Mia's head whipped around, her dark curls slapping her cheeks. “ 'Sup, Sam. Figured I'd see you here today. Heard about the bathroom throw-down. Any survivors?”
“Barely,” I grumbled, knowing this was yet another rumor I had to recover from. “What brings you to this neck of the woods?”
“Fell asleep in sociology three days in a row and I wound up here.”
“Why were you sleeping in class? Something keeping you up at night?” I asked, though I had a sneaking suspicion about what.
In this week's episode of
The Bold and the Reckless
, Mia decided to play hardball. Using her status to her advantage, Mia had started spreading rumors about Dougie's new love interest. In retaliation, Dougie had gone to Jason Lao with a tell-all exposé about their relationship, revealing to those unaware that Mia was a jealous psycho. This not-at-all-groundbreaking news solidified their position as the Mr. and Mrs. Smith of our school, and served as fodder for the tabloids.
The Bold and the Reckless
, Mia decided to play hardball. Using her status to her advantage, Mia had started spreading rumors about Dougie's new love interest. In retaliation, Dougie had gone to Jason Lao with a tell-all exposé about their relationship, revealing to those unaware that Mia was a jealous psycho. This not-at-all-groundbreaking news solidified their position as the Mr. and Mrs. Smith of our school, and served as fodder for the tabloids.
Before fifth period, Dougie had stopped by my locker in order to uncover Mia's next move. He had every right to be concerned. The loud, aggressive Mia he could handle, but her silence proved lethal for all involved. If she kept me in the dark about her counterattack, her intended target didn't have a prayer.
“Why are there so many girls in here? And why do they look like they attend the goth girl academy?” Mia asked, derailing my train of thought. “That's like the eighth shirt like that I've seen today. What is
Specter
anyway?”
Specter
anyway?”
I looked to the short girl sitting by the window, wearing three layers of shirts, including a T-shirt that cut across her stomach in an unflattering way. In the center of the shirt was a translucent blue boy embracing a girl with black lipstick. The phrase L
OVE
B
EYOND THE
G
RAVE
stretched across the top.
OVE
B
EYOND THE
G
RAVE
stretched across the top.
I rolled my eyes. “It's a book series that all the girls are obsessed with. Hot ghost boys are
en vogue
this year. The main characters met in detention,” I explained, recalling what Alicia had blathered on about in the book meetings. “You visit me at work all the time; you've never seen it on the shelves?”
en vogue
this year. The main characters met in detention,” I explained, recalling what Alicia had blathered on about in the book meetings. “You visit me at work all the time; you've never seen it on the shelves?”
Mia cut her eyes at me and pulled out a spiral notebook from her backpack. “Sam, you know I don't book. I go straight to the magazines.”
This was true. Mia worked better with pictures, including pie diagrams and charts. High-strung as she might be, she had brains, which I steadily probed to complete my take-home quiz for biology. The next twenty minutes consisted of me asking random vocab questions.
“Psst, Mia, what's a polyploid?”
“An organism with more than two sets of matching chromosomes,” she answered, not lifting her eyes from her papers.
After jotting that answer down, I moved to the next question. “Oh, okay. What's a zygote?”
“A fertilized egg. Sam, are you even trying?”
“Yes,” I said indignantly, then went to the next problem. “Hey, what's aâ”
“Just give me the damn quiz!” She snatched the paper off my desk. In exchange, she slapped her folder on my desk. Mia breezed through my homework, her pencil flying across the paper.
Quite familiar with the routine, I opened the folder, whipped out a red pen, and began proofreading her English essay. She was seriously the yin to my yang, one of those left-brained people who couldn't write a compound sentence, but could formulate the time-space continuum in their sleep. I'd miss her so much when she went to Columbia next year; it gave me heartburn just thinking about it.
Handing back my quiz, Mia whispered, “So, is it true that you and Malik Davis are hooking up?”
I almost jumped out of my chair. “Who-with-the-what-now?”
“Quiet down!” Mrs. Braxton ordered from the front of the class.
While pretending to work, Mia whispered, “That's what Malik's been saying. I gotta tell ya, I was a little shocked. I know I teased you about it and all, but wow, I didn't think you would creep like that. Did you know he almost died in a car accident?”
“So I hear,” I dismissed with a flip of the hand. “You said Malik's been saying we're dating?”
“More than that,” Mia mumbled with a hint of suggestion. She pulled out her phone and fiddled with the touch screen while hiding her actions within the shelter of her lap. Finding what she was looking for, she passed me the device.
Jason's blog appeared with a picture of him giving a cheesy thumbs-up. An entire page was devoted to me and the grocery list of rumors. Most of them were ridiculous, but the others cut me to the quick. I couldn't believe how many people in school saw me as conceited, mean, and butt ugly.
“Do I really look like a brown Cabbage Patch doll?” I asked Mia.
Her whole body turned as she gave me a good once-over. “No. Well, a little bitâright around the face. Why you ask?”
“Never mind.” I continued scrolling, my dignity shriveling with each comment. The false reports by the guys bothered me the most. These accounts had been relayed in such graphic detail, they should've been deleted by the webmaster. The most outrageous entry came from MalikD757, who claimed that he and I had partaken in acts that only someone freakishly double-jointed could accomplish.
I was ready to toss the phone out the window when Mia caught my wrist.
“Hey, hey, calm down. Don't break it.” She wrenched her defenseless phone out of my clutches.
“One more outburst, ladies, and I'll see you back here tomorrow,” Mrs. Braxton threatened with a slam to her desk. Apparently her nap time was over.
I returned to my editing task, seething and crossing out errors with angry red stripes. My entire week came to a head, the sickness, the uncertainty of Caleb's recovery, not eating a decent meal in days, and having my ass handed to me by four of Malik's biggest groupies. The attack in the girls' bathroom began to make a bit more sense. Malik had gone too far, and his pissing contest placed me at risk of getting shanked by every girl who claimed him.
I was quickly learning that playing by the rules didn't work in this school. I wished it hadn't come to this, but now, I had to take care of business, Samara Nicole style. I had another thirty minutes until detention ended, so I needed to act fast.
Once my sentence ended, I stormed into the gymnasium, absorbing the echoic blare of bouncing balls and squeaking sneakers. The smell of hot funk and industrial cleaner almost knocked me out. This was the guys' turf, and I made it a point to never invade this domain, unless absolutely necessary.
Malik raced along the court, doing off-season relay drills with the rest of his team when I called for him. Sporting a fiendish grin, he called a time-out, then met me halfway. He didn't get a chance to speak before an upper cut to the jaw knocked the taste out of his mouth.
“You lying son of a bitch!” I yelled. “Why are you spreading rumors about me, you evilâ”
“Whoa! What the hell is your problem?” He tumbled back, struggling to gain his footing as his partners rushed in on the scene.
“What's my problem? You're telling everyone we're having sex, and you know good and well it's not true!”
His hand shot out and caught my wrist before I delivered another blow.
“Says who?” he challenged. Dude didn't even own the decency to deny it.
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