Dark and Twisted (15 page)

“What the hell?” Cardelian jumps to his feet.

Fear fills me. I know Jaxson is near as if my body can feel him as sharp shards of ice slice through my veins. I suck in sharp breaths as I search for him. The wind whips a pile of napkins off the counter, blowing them around the room while the snow swirls around me.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Cardelian glares out the window.

At first, I cannot see him. His body blends into the tree line, making him look like a shadow against a stormy background. It is his glowing blue eyes that make him stand out in the dark.

“He shouldn’t be here,” Cardelian curses under his breath.

“What’s wrong? Why shouldn’t he be here?” I turn to him desperate for answers. His hand finds the small of my back, offering me protection against the cold—against Jaxson.

“He’s my brother.” His eyes beg for me to understand.

“What is he?” I hear myself ask, sucking in a breath that feels like I’m breathing in shards of glass.

“You need to stay away from him! I don’t know what he is capable of doing. If you end up hurt, I don’t think I could live with myself again.”

“He will not hurt me.” The words ring hollow, and even though I said it, I don’t entirely believe them.

“That’s what Abby said.”

Cardelian gently tugs me closer to him, and where my ear rests on his chest, I can hear the rapid shudder of his heart.

“Cardelian, if he did something to her, you have to tell someone.”

“He’s my brother, but I am not going to let him hurt anyone ever again. This has to end.”

My stomach lurches, and I suddenly feel like I might be sick.
A game
.

“I’m going to talk to him.”

He lets go of me, and cold fills the space he occupied. Snow whips around Jaxson, and his eyes spark with blur fire. I want to go to him, to fall into his arms. I long for him to hold me the way Cardelian just did.

Stop it. Stop it. You are not one of those girls that falls for the terrifying boy. This is not a story, he will not sprout wings and turn into a dark angel who is battling his inner demons because he loves you. He threatened Juliet, and he hurt a girl, you could be next.

Jaxson’s eyes stay on mine as Cardelian makes his way over to him, battling against the storm that seems to be coming from his brother. The wind makes it impossible to hear what is being said, but by their body languageis not pleasant. Cardelian’s hands gesture wildly, but it’s Jaxson who is the most threatening. He makes no movement whatsoever.

It feels as if Cardelian is not even there—as if it’s just me and Jaxson. I tighten my grip on my elbows, hugging myself as the snow blows into the restaurant swirling around my feet.
The boy who can change the weather.

Cardelian looks up at me, and Jaxson sinks into the background, his eyes flickering off.

Cardelian races back the storm now gone. “He is not going to bother you anymore. But if he does, you have to call the police.”

I nod numbly as I scan the woods for Jaxson, but I know he is gone. I can no longer feel him. I just feel numb as if I have been in the cold too long.

“Eden, promise me you will.”

“I promise.”

Stepping out onto the dark football field, I zip up my sweater, pulling the hood over my head. I try not to think about what creatures might be lurking in the night or the fact that the woods are throwing menacing shadows across the grass. I jog, glancing over my shoulder every so often. The familiar feeling of dread pricks at my skin, but I’m starting to get used to it. In fact, my day would seem off without it.

After talking with Cardelian, I decided I need to get answers once and for all. Maybe when it comes to Jaxson, everyone else can easily brush strange incidences under the rug, but not me. He hurt Abby and maybe Juliet. I could be next. If something happened to Juliet, it would be my fault for not investigating it, for not finding out what he did to that girl Abigail.

By the time I make it to the smoker’s wall, I’m out of breath. Panting, I kneel down and attempt to catch it. The movement comes from behind me, heavy footsteps in the dried leaves. I jump up, plastering myself to the cold cement. I don’t dare move or breathe. I listen as the heavy footsteps move slowly past. When I can no longer her them, I force my stiff legs to run.

I don’t look behind me or stop until I come to Mrs. Heart’s class room. She always has a window cracked to let the paint fumes out. It is just opened enough that I can squeeze my hand under the frame. I try to pry it up, but it groans in protest, not budging. Thick layers from years of paint have sealed it stuck. I hit the bottom with the palm of my hand, pounding on it until it finally gives. Paint flakes, which are most likely filled with lead, fall on my face.

Great. How am I going to explain how I got lead poisoning?
I push the window halfway open, it will be a tight squeeze, but I’m running out of time. I glance over my shoulder as the looming feeling of being watched pricks at my neck. I shake it off. There is nothing there except shadows.

Using my arms, I push myself up the ledge, jump up to the windowsill, and shimmy through. I land hard on the other side with a
thud
, and pain shoots up my arm as my hand makes contact with the floor. I curse, pulling it to my chest and trying to squeeze the hurt away. I am going to have to worry about my hand later.

The room is filled with an eerie silence, and the only sounds are my erratic heartbeat and heavy breathing. I move to the door and look out into the hall, everything is pitch black.
I should have thought about this and brought a flashlight … and maybe a pair of nun chucks.
Here goes nothing.
I step out into the hall, trailing my hand along the lockers as a guide. It is slow moving as I shuffle, counting the doors as I go.

One … two … three … four …
What was that?
From behind me, there is a noise like scratching or tapping. Whatever it is, it’s distant, so I pick up my speed. … Five … six … The noise grows louder, closer. I’m not alone. There is someone else in the building with me. Seven … eight …

Someone darts down the hall in front of me, and I let out a yelp, startled. The dark makes it nearly impossible to see who it is, but they stop, turning towards me. I cover my mouth, holding back a scream, and keep going. They step forward moving swiftly towards me. I push open the next door, shutting it behind me and slide to the ground.

Oh my God, think, think. Eden, come on.

I blindly feel around the floor for something to use to defend myself, but there is nothing except gritty dust.
What was I thinking coming here? That’s right, I wasn’t thinking! I just jump right in. The consequences of what I’m doing don’t come to mind until I’m sitting in the dark with nothing to defend myself. Oh my god. Oh, my god, crap, crap, crap
.

The handle jiggles above my head. Pushing myself up straighter, I put all of my weight against the door, but they are stronger than me and push the door open with ease. I slide across the floor, my feet backpedaling.

This is it. There is no Mr. Wissian coming to my rescue.
My mind races. I cannot feel my own heartbeat, but I know it’s pounding by the blood whooshing in my ears. My feet slam into something hard.

A table!
I lock my legs and keep my feet firmly planted, wedging myself between the door and table, preventing the door from opening more than a few inches. They push harder and my legs scream in objection, but I fight with all of my might. Finally, they give up and move along. I listen to the heavy sound of footsteps descend the hallway.

I stay locked in the same position—fear preventing me from moving. What if they come back? My legs are shaking so badly.
Heck, my whole body is shaking
. But I can’t stay here forever. I force myself to stand up. Whoever is out there might come back. I slip out of the classroom and race down the hall towards the principal’s office as fast as I can.

I slip into the office, where all the files are kept in one of the three large filing cabinets behind Mr. Black’s desk. A small window in his office lets in just enough light from the orange street lamp in the parking lot to see where I am going. I get the key from under his second-place high school cross country trophy, next to the picture of him on a singles’ cruise wearing a tacky Hawaiian print shirt with chest hair peeking out and too short white shorts.

I have seen that picture one too many times. I should do all of us frequent visitors a favor and get rid of it. If there wasn’t someone lurking in the halls, or I wasn’t about to commit a crime, I would. But, I don’t want to leave any evidence that I was here.

I unlock the cabinet and search through the files. I flip forward and then back, but Jaxson’s file is nowhere to be found. How could he not have a file? Unless he doesn’t have a school history, maybe transcripts from another planet don’t transfer. He could have used some alien mind control to get into school. I grab a handful of the files. When the light flips on, blinding me, I spin around, dropping the files on the floor. Their contents spill out in a fan at my feet. My heart leaps out of my chest as the perpetrator comes into focus.

“Liv!” I scream, my fear turning to anger. “You scared the crap out of me.” I reach around her, flipping the lights off. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” She narrows her eyes at me. We are in a standoff.

“Okay, I am trying to find out information on Jaxson.”

“Eden you promised.”

“Liv there was a girl in his past that got hurt. If I can just find out what happened…”

“A girl.” She bites her lip, deep in thought.

“What are you doing here?” I ask her again.

“When Essie said that you were not home, I knew you couldn’t help but sleuth.” She smiles at me.

“Why didn’t you turn on any lights?”

“We are breaking and entering, I’m trying to not get caught,” I hiss. “Did you see anyone?” I ask the knot in my stomach tightening.

She starts to panic. “No. why? Did you see someone? Oh, my God, Eden. I can’t get caught.”

“Then hush and help me try to find Jaxson’s file.” I bend over, picking up the scattered folders off the floor.

“Did you look under F?” she asks.

“No, why would I? His last name is Valentine.”

She pushes me out of the way. “His last name might legally be Valentine, but he is a foster after all. Yep here it is,” she states triumphantly, pulling out a thin file.

I was expecting a thick file filled with suspensions and criminal activity. Instead, it looks like someone who has just begun their school career. She pulls her cellphone out of her back pocket, using it as a light so we can see what is lurking inside.

“This is wrong. Maybe we shouldn’t,” I murmur. I suddenly don’t want to know what it says. I don’t want to know Jaxson hurt that girl. However sick and twisted it is, I can’t deny the spark that runs through me when he is near, or how my heart races when his eyes lock on mine. When he looks at me, it’s as if he can see every part of me—every fear, joy, and feeling I have ever had. Maybe it is just the rush of the impending danger when he is around.

“It looks like your boy is pretty smart.”

I look over Liv’s shoulder at Jaxson’s stellar academic record that gives Liv’s a run for her money.

“Look, he was in all advance placement and honor classes at his previous schools.” Jealousy laces Liv’s words. “What is he doing here at Copake Falls?”

There is not a single B on his paper, and I flush, ashamed of my own file that is littered with D’s and F’s.

“I don’t think he has a choice in what foster home he gets placed in, Liv.” I scold her. Taking the file away from her, I flip the paper and continue to scan for something that is discriminating in his perfect record. There has to be something.

“Wait, what is that?” I take out a piece of folded newspaper that is tucked in the back.

Liv reads it in a hushed voiced.

“Jaxson White suspected of an attack on student.

Poughkeepsie New York—Jaxson White is suspected of an attack on fellow student, 15-year-old Abigail Chiu, earlier this month.

As of now, White is only a suspect and has not been charged. Chiu was attacked in Bowdoin Park, and was found by Jill Holly, who was out walking her dog. Holly told media that Chiu was screaming and she could not clam her. The Poughkeepsie native remained at Chiu’s side until the police arrived. At which time, emergency personnel were forced to restrain Chiu until the ambulance got there.

Witnesses stated that it took three men to hold her down.

Chiu resides with her foster parents, the Millers. They could not be reached for an interview at this time.

Another witness commented, “That girl always had two boys with her. There was something strange about them, something not quite right. Especially that tall one with the pale eyes, something is wrong with him. His eyes, they seem to glow. And the weather! Whenever he is around, it’s like winter is on the brink of coming. Reports of glowing eyes and winter wielding boys seem impossible, however, one thing is for sure: for now, White remains a suspect still. A fund has been set up in Abigail Chiu’s name for donations, checks should be made payable to Bright Horizons, where Chiu is recovering.”

I look up at Liv. My throat feels like sandpaper, and the words catch on the graininess. “Why didn’t we hear about this? How could they let someone go to our school that hurt a girl?”

Her face pales, and I continue to flip through the rest of the record. There is nothing but a couple of report cards and a few mentions of scholarship winnings.

“This doesn’t make sense.” I shake my head.

“Eden, it’s all right here. The kid is crazy. This explains why he seems so agitated all the time. He is mental.”

Her words are like a slap. “If you had to go through something like that, being accused of attacking someone—”

She holds up a perfect bubblegum pink manicured finger, stopping me from continuing. “Don’t even try to make excuses for him! I can’t believe you would try to justify his actions after what you saw him do to Juliet. The kid has some major issues. If he attacked a girl at his last school, he might be the person that attacked you. Didn’t you think of that?” she says.

I want to stop her words, to pull them apart and scatter them. I don’t want to believe it, even though she is right.

“He wasn’t convicted of anything. The article says he was a suspect. If charges were dropped, there is no reason to be alarmed.”

I wish I could believe my own words, but I don’t. I cannot deny it anymore. I need to face the truth. Jaxson attacked that girl, Abigail, and he might just be the one who attacked me in the woods. Liv shakes her head, opening her mouth to argue when a loud bang cuts her off. Fear instantly flashes in her eyes. I grab the article, stuffing it deep into my pocket, and quickly put the file back.

“Someone else is here,” Liv whispers, her eyes as wide as saucers.

I point to the door, and she nods, turning off the camera light on her phone. Darkness quickly fills in the space, and I slip my hand into hers. We need to stay together. We move silently out of the office, and I try to make a right to go back to the art room.

“No, back out the gym.” She tugs me down the opposite way.

“You came through the gym?” I say annoyed. I can’t believe all the trouble I had to go through to get in here, and she just sauntered in.

“Yeah, didn’t you? The lock is broken. Everyone knows that?” she whispers.

“Well, not everyone.” The pain in my palm decides to surface at the thought of pounding the window open.

Another loud bang interrupts my reverie and has us running. It’s all I can do to keep up with Liv’s long, athletic legs. The sound of our sneakers are mixed with a loud banging, along the metal lockers behind us, neither one of us dares to look back. We run out the gym doors and dart across the football field to where Liv’s truck is parked.

She doesn’t wait until we are buckled before she stomps on the gas, squealing the tires and kicking up gravel. “What the hell was that?” she asks turning onto the road.

I don’t answer because my voice is stuck in my throat. Ice splinters inside of me as a dark shadow stands in the center of the football field with glowing blue eyes.
Jaxson.