Dark Friends (16 page)

              “What the hell are you talking about” Stewie raised his voice, “
You
attacked me! You clawed my face! You kicked me in the knee!”

              “What?!? No I didn't! I heard you chasing me, then I hid behind a tree and watched you go by, then I saw Nelson, then I went home. Are you trying to blame this on me?” Amelia matched Stewie's volume. He stood up, staring her hauntingly in the eyes.

              “You're crazy! All women are crazy! You attacked me! I went after you, you hid behind a tree, then jumped out and went all spider-monkey on me! There was no one else out there!” Stewie yelled loudly, drawing the attention of the entire cafeteria. A staff member approached them.

              “What's going on?” he asked, an older male teacher that neither one of them knew.

              “She beat me up!” Stewie yelled, pointing his finger at Amelia. The cafeteria froze for a moment, then erupted into a circus of laughter.

              “Stewie got beat up by a girl!”

              “By
that
girl!”

              “Look at his face!”

              Stewie's eyes started watering, his face turned redder than his hair, and he rushed out of the cafeteria, barely damming his tears.

              “Follow me, young lady.” the teacher said.

              Amelia did as she was told. On her way out, she felt every eye in the school on her. Without thinking, she balled up her fist and slapped her opposite palm with it, sending the laughter into overdrive.

              Steve and Catina McCrees were at the school thirty minutes later. They heard the teacher's version of events, Stewie's parents version, then they sat down with Amelia.

              “What happened?” Steven asked, his voice full of concern.

              Amelia recounted everything that had happened, omitting no detail, however small.

              Steve and Catina looked at each other with worried expressions.

              “Well, if this Nelson boy is the guilty party, you better show us how to find him.”

              “I've only ever seen him at Bethe Park. He's there all sorts of odd hours, usually with Jennie and the others. You know Stewie is only saying that I beat him up because he's mad at me for ditching him. He's just embarrassed and needs someone to blame.”

              “Sweetheart” Catina started, “Why would he make up a story about a girl beating him up, rather than a nameless, faceless thug in the night? Which one would be more embarrassing for him? It doesn't make sense.”

              It didn't make sense, Amelia thought.

                                                                     
Chapter Twenty-Nine

              The principal, the McCree's and Paleston's all ultimately agreed that the best thing to do was forget the whole incident. No charges would be filed, no punishments levied. Amelia and Stewie were forbidden from speaking to one another, which neither one objected to, and Stewie's math class was moved to a different period. Problem solved. Steve and Catina insisted Amelia introduce them to her friends, but they were never at the park when she brought her parents out there. Jennie was also absent many days from school, and they stopped pursuing Amelia's story.

              “What do you think?” Catina asked Steve one evening.             

              “No. What do you think?”

              “I think she's mentally ill.”

              “Are you sure? She hasn't missed one day of school, one chore all year and as far as we know, not even one question in any of her classes.” he countered.

              “But she's been
abused
. We knew it would manifest somehow. Maybe her mind is compensating for the pain with hallucinations.”

              “There is no evidence of that.”

              “Stewie Paleston wasn't lying. Why would he?”

              “To get Amelia in trouble.” he responded again, though he agreed with Catina. He was playing the devil's advocate to spur on her thoughts.

              “That is an insufficient, incomplete explanation. What about her 'friends', where the hell are they?”

              “I don't know. Let's not speculate, either. We need to work off of the facts.”

              “Fact number one: Ever since her whole Stewie incident, Amelia has become detached and stranger than normal. She's fanatical about her chores. Yesterday she moved the refrigerator to scrub underneath it! Who does that? Her mind is distracting itself from it's current, internal collapse.”

              “Catina, I love you. But Amelia has been an angel as far as I'm concerned. Sure, she's very smart and very damaged, but until she
provably
, does anything dangerous, let's give her the benefit of the doubt.”

              “How has she earned that trust?”

              “We're gifting it to her.” Steven said calmly. The couple made eye contact and Catina's anger softened then dissipated. Her expression became one of exhaustion.

              “I thought being a mother would be easy.”

              “I'm sure they all do.”

              Amelia couldn't sleep. She felt like her brain was too big for her body, like wearing a helmet that was three sizes too large. Something was wrong, and at night she couldn't distract the engine of her mind. It was a great freight train, roaring across endless plains of knowledge and memory. It didn't stop for gas, for supplies. It just chugged on and on, through the dreariest countrysides and darkest ravines.

             
They were beating him again. Nelson was not alone. They were all there, beating Stewie. Elbert held him down, Nelson punched him, Lisa kicked him. Amelia couldn't stop it. She told them to stop. She insisted they stop. She raised her blade and let it fall, taking Stewie's eyes, his face. She laughed and let the blood cover her, then plunged the blade in again, taking his soul. She threw his soul on the ground and laughed at it's terrified expression. But it wasn't looking at her. It was looking past her, to Jennie. Jennie approached her from behind, silently. When Amelia turned, Jennie let her axe fall on Amelia's clavicle, cleaving her body in two. She left the blade in it's place and laughed. Everyone laughed. Amelia fell next to Stewie and they cried together. They were real.

             
Amelia burst from her sheets. Her blankets were wet with sweat. The ceiling fan was on and cooled her down quickly, chilling her. She couldn't sleep, she couldn't. If only she had known her real parents, her real heritage, she thought, then some atavistic instinct would lead her to her own identity. Amelia's mind was failing her. But unlike a normal mind, which merely ran out of gas and left it's user stranded on the roadside, Amelia's mind was a priceless sports car, weaving drunkenly through traffic, going faster and faster, out of control. Amelia couldn't sleep.

                                                                     
Chapter Thirty

              “Hello is Mr. or Mrs. McCree's available?”

              “This is him.”

              “My name is Betsy Allpure and your daughter, Amelia, is in my geometry class.”

              Allpure? What a name, Steven thought.

              “I know who you are. Has a new angle emerged from the drama with young Mr. Paleston?”

              “No. This is actually a mandatory call on my part, to update you on your daughter's progress.”

              “One second, Ms. Allpure, I'm going to get my wife and put you on speaker phone.”

              “Of course.” she said.

              Steven ran to the front lawn and bid Catina to come inside.

              “You're on speaker, go ahead.” Steven said.

              “Your daughter is...the most unusual child that I have not only taught, but encountered in my entire life. I have, of course, been made aware of the official request for her to be on an accelerated curriculum, but she has proven unteachable.”

              “Unteachable? Does she not listen? Or does she not comprehend?”

              “Neither. She knows more than I do, easily. She has found the material so easy that I often find her scribbling in her notebook, doing advanced calculus and trigonometry. She has never used a calculator in class, which is mandatory, because she does equations in her head, instantly.”

              “We are aware of her abilities.” Catina spoke up.

              “There is more. She often creates more work for herself, answering questions in binary numbers or extended scientific notation.”

              “Is there a problem? Is she creating more work for you?”

              “Not how you may think. Like many geniuses, Amelia has excelled academically, but she, from the first day, has lacked normal social skills.”

              “We are also aware of that.” Catina said again, wondering where Ms. Allpure was going with this.

              Allpure continued, “In recent weeks, Amelia has been more withdrawn than usual. She keeps her head down from bell to bell. She avoids eye contact, avoids speaking. Her work has become increasingly complex and slightly sloppy, like she is distracted. In short, Mr. and Mrs. McCrees', I believe Amelia needs a psychiatric evaluation. I have seen kids with similar symptoms kill themselves in the past.” She let the words hang over the telephone.

              “Thank you for the call. We are caring for our daughter, good day.” Catina said, disconnecting the call. She turned to Steve.

              “We have to force her to see the psychiatrist. This confirms it.”

              “
I
am a psychiatrist. Forcing her to go will taint the entire session. We might as well sedate her and have her committed.”

              “No, we're not there yet” Catina countered, “But perhaps you could do some independent investigating? Try to identify the specifics of her illness, try to find a way in using your professional experience?”

              “I'll think on it.” Steven answered, feeling exhausted. The McCrees' experiment to adopt a child had become a full-fledged nightmare. They had chosen a head-case, and Steven wondered if there own sub-consciousness's had been drawn to damaged goods. Perhaps they had never wanted to be parents, only consultants for a fascinating psychiatry patient? Genius and insanity go hand in hand, Steve thought. Whatever that kind of abuse does to a normal child, it will only be magnified exponentially in a brain like Amelia's, he concluded.

              Amelia came home from school the next day and changed her clothes quickly. She left immediately, intent on going to the park. She needed to talk to her friends.

              Steven was waiting. He knew Amelia often went to the park to hang with her 'friends', and he needed to confirm her activity. He stayed in his bedroom and listened to Amelia rummaging through her own. When he heard the front door close, he looked out the window and saw her walking briskly up the street. She had not deigned to inform her parents of her plans.

              They would know what to do, they had to know the answers to her questions. Her bad dreams, her friction with her parents, her difficulty concentrating. Amelia had to know why Nelson had hurt Stewie. She had to know why Jennie was such a slut.

              Amelia was walking erratically, Steven thought. She kept her head down, only looking up to avoid people and traffic. She changed directions, often turning without warning. She would walk very fast, then slow down to a stroll, causing Steven to dive behind the closest object, whether it was a bush or a mailbox. He hoped Amelia would pick up her pace and get to the park soon; he was starting to look like a man stalking a teenage girl.

             
When she saw the park, her pace quickened. She reached and crossed the threshold of the park, feeling the trees blocking out the sun. Amelia instantly felt better. There were fewer people here. It was quiet. The trees shaded the entire path, only permitting the occasional ray of light to breathe through. Amelia knew Nelson, Jennie, Lisa and Elbert were all here. She felt them close by, could almost hear their voices.

              Steven paused as Amelia disappeared into the park. He had barely ever visited Bethe Park, and it was blighted. The sidewalks were cracked, the plant-life breaking the asphalt. The place was mostly deserted, and the playgrounds and park benches were covered in gang graffiti. Steven had not brought any kinds of weapons, and he steeled himself to follow his mad, adoptive daughter into this urban-rural hellhole.

             
They were there! How had she known? The group was sitting on two large benches next to a small pond, skipping stones. They all looked up at once.

              “Hey bitch!” Nelson called out.

              “Sup girl?” said Jennie.

              “Hi” Elbert and Lisa said in unison.