Dark Mind (The Dark Mind Trilogy Book 1) (2 page)

“Are you sitting here, freak?” one boy said. They all exchanged glances and burst out laughing.

Cole grabbed his tray and leapt to his feet. “You're all assholes.” Without waiting for a reaction, he turned and trudged back to his solitary corner.

I
give up. I tried, but I give up. There's a reason I don't associate with them. Assholes and babies, every last one of them.

He jabbed his fork into his food, puncturing a hole in the bottom of the Styrofoam tray. He stuffed the food down his throat, never moving his eyes from his tray and blocking out all the sounds around him.

Let them laugh. At least I'm not the one with a meaningless existence. Wastes of space.

After lunch he stormed back to class, making sure not to catch anyone's eye. He spent the next half hour trembling, staring unseeing at the front of the room, but the longer he stared, the dumber he felt.
How did I let them to get to me? Who cares what they think? I don't need them. I don't. I can be happy without them. I wouldn't want a closed-minded bastard as a friend anyway. I'm better off. I really am.
Soon enough he had calmed himself down, vowing never to let his peers' opinions affect him again.

At the end of history he jumped up with his backpack to be the first one out.

“Cole.”

Cole stopped and faced Mrs. Taylor.

“I need to speak to you. Don't go anywhere.”

He knew exactly what it was about and he did not want to have this conversation. He lagged against the wall while his class filed out. He noticed more than the usual number of looks as his classmates passed him, but he would not give them the satisfaction of a response. Once they were gone, he walked up to the front of the room. “Yes Mrs. Taylor?”

Mrs. Taylor sat down in the chair at her desk so she could look at Cole at eye level. “I’m sure you have some idea what this is about. I had a talk with your other teachers and they all agree that you perform at a level far above anyone your age. I can talk to you like an adult, which I have never been able to do with any of my students in all of my years here. I want to recommend you for the accelerated program starting next year, but in order to do that you need to raise your history grades. Why do you refuse to try in my class?”

“I don’t know. I just can’t get myself to relate to it, I guess.” He looked down at the floor and squirmed his foot.

“First of all, you should know how important history is. History has a way of repeating itself and we learn from other people’s successes and mistakes.”

“Yeah I know all that,” Cole said.

“Cole, look at me. Good. Okay, I understand if you aren’t interested in the material, but you have to try anyway. You cannot get through school by only doing work in the subjects you like. Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to. Cole! Look at me. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Mrs. Taylor.” He returned her steady gaze with equal intensity.

“Good. So, I will be expecting better grades on the next exam?”

“Yes ma'am.”

“Good. You can go now.”

Cole turned without another word and strolled out, leaving Mrs. Taylor shaking her head behind him at the biggest mystery that had ever graced her classroom.

As Cole stepped through the front doors, a car sat idling down the block, from which two sets of eyes watched him walk towards his car.

“Not yet,” the boy said to the driver.

The car sped away unnoticed.

3

“Hey, Honey. Did you have a good day?”

“Mom, I told you not to call me that. It was fine.” Cole shut the car door and Meredith drove away.

She looked over at him staring out the window. “So…
um.”

Cole snapped out of his trance. “Yeah?”

The car rolled to a stop at a red light. Meredith took a deep breath and began again. “So, no rush or anything, but just wondering, did you, uh, talk to anyone at school today?”

Cole bit his lip, but seeing the growing disappointment on his mother’s face, quickly regained his composure. “Oh, yeah. I talked to a few kids. I’ll probably talk to them again.” His enthusiasm sounded painfully fake to his ears
, but Meredith did not seem to notice, or forced herself not to notice.

“Wow that’s great! Do you think you’re going to talk to them again tomor… I’m sorry, I don’t mean to push you.”

“Mom, calm down. It’s fine. Yes, I’m sure I will talk to them again tomorrow.”
Great. Now what do I do? Lie to her forever?
But seeing the smile on her face, he did not regret the lie. He would figure something out. He focused his attention out the window, hoping to let the conversation die.

“
So... what did you talk about?” Meredith said.

Cole closed his eyes, as a sharp pang reverberated through his body. “Oh you know, not much. We agree on hating school. That's an easy topic.”

Meredith chuckled. “Not my favorite subject, but not something that can be helped. What were they like?”

“I don't know, Mom. They're like boys,” Cole said, exasperation edging its way into his voice.

“Sorry, I'll stop. But I want you to know I'm proud of you.”

Back home, Cole curled up in his chair with
Les Miserables
while Meredith went into the kitchen to make dinner.

This is kinda like history. If I can enjoy this book so much, maybe I can learn to enjoy history too.

He was relaxing in the chair, thinking of the book as a history lesson in a textbook when the thought struck him.
Finish this page before your mom calls you.

Oh come on, I was enjoying this book. Why did you have to go and ruin it? Fine. It’s an agreement.

Unfortunately, he was an exceptionally slow reader, a skill he had never been able to improve no matter how many books he read, and even though he had read this book countless times, it did not help. He did not want to skip over words for fear of violating some unwritten rule, so his eyes darted over every word at his own top speed. He was on the last word when his mother's voice filled his ears, bringing with it a sinking despair.

“Cole! Dinner!”

Are you serious??!! That was a retarded agreement. Why did I go along with it? And why do all these agreements keep coming up that I have no control over? Did I win? Did that count? That wasn’t fair. I refuse to acknowledge that just happened.

He rose unsteadily from the chair and tried to clear his head.

“Cole? Are you coming?” Meredith appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a towel.

“Yeah.” He hoped none of his emotions showed in his voice. “Just finishing the page.” He focused on putting one foot in front of the other across the dirty, dark green rug, not allowing his shaking to become visible.

“You sure you’re all right?” Meredith asked, raising an eyebrow at his strange behavior.

“Yep. What’s for dinner?” He put an extra, unnatural spring in his step and sat down at the table. There was an awkward silence
, but Cole didn’t turn around.
Dammit, why do I have to be so weird sometimes? It’s just a dumb, meaningless game.

“Baked ziti and broccoli tonight,” came Meredith’s eventual answer.

“Mmmm. Let’s eat.”

The insomnia that plagued him that night was worse than usual.

You’re being paranoid. It’s not a big deal. You win all the time. Who cares if you lose once? All those wins more than outweigh one stupid loss.

Despite his attempts to calm the inner turmoil, he tossed and turned until the first rays of sunlight breached the horizon. The alarm blared for ten minutes
, but he couldn't break through sleep’s paralyzing hold.

Meredith appeared in the doorway carrying a rag. “Cole? Come on. You’re gonna be late.”

Cole struggled to open his eyes. “Mmmm.”

“Come on Cole. Why are you so tired? You went to bed at a reasonable time last night.” She pulled the covers off the bed and the sudden shock of cool air forced the sleep away.

“I don’t know,” Cole said, swinging his legs off the bed. “Just restless.”

“Something on your mind?” Meredith asked, urgency turning to concern.

“No, just a bad dream.”

“Oh, well, you better get going,” she said, the urgency back tenfold. “The bus won’t wait and you can’t skip breakfast.”

Cole stood up, stretching and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I'll be fine. Be right down.”

“Quickly. You know
I don't have time to drive you,” she said and left.

Hot cereal was waiting for him on the table when he got down, covered by a plate to keep in the warmth. He wolfed down his breakfast
, but still had to run to catch the bus. He pounded down the street, his backpack making every step awkward. He reached the bus just as it was pulling away and banged on the door. It stopped to let him on and as he climbed, breathless, up the stairs, he heard a shout from somewhere on the bus, “Was Mommy late making you breakfast?” followed by a few snickers. He ignored it and took a seat in the first row. He learned a long time ago - long ago for his age - that the best way to beat a bully is to give him no reaction. Cole knew that bullies thrived on the responses they could provoke from their victims. With no response, there was no fun, and the bully would be forced to give up or choose a new target. Sure enough, as predictable as always, the heckling stopped soon after he took his seat and faced forward.

At the beginning of history class that day, Mrs. Taylor shot him a glance.
All right, fine. It would probably save me some trouble if I pay attention just a little.
He sighed and focused his mind on Mrs. Taylor’s words.

Mrs. Taylor showed a hint of a smile at Cole’s obedience, a welcome breakthrough in his behavior. “Today we are going to finish with the Revolutionary War. Last time I was talking about George Washington and how he defeated the British. Does everyone remember? After that battle…”

Mrs. Taylor went on to describe the meetings that led to the beginning of the new nation. Despite his disinclination, Cole found himself getting lost in the story.
The power that these men had. They convinced a whole nation to revolt. I want to do something like that. I
can
do something like that. All these dumb kids underestimate me. Just wait.

Mrs. Taylor’s words faded into background noise as he drifted into his fantasy. Mrs. Taylor mistook the smile plastered on his face as a sign that he was enjoying the story, which led her to continue more fervently.

“Excuse me. I’m looking for Cole Sicarius?”

The interruption jerked both Mrs. Taylor and Cole out of their trances. An anxious-looking aide from the office was standing in the doorway. Cole looked up at Mrs. Taylor who nodded. “Go with her,” she said.

Cole got up from his desk.

“Might I ask what this is about?” Mrs. Taylor inquired of the aide.

The aide paled. “I’m sorry, I can’t discuss this right now. I just need to take Cole immediately.”

Cole sensed the weight of the situation from the tone of her voice. His heart pounded and his pace quickened as he followed the aide out of the classroom. “What is it?” he said as soon as they were out of earshot of the students.

“I'm not allowed to tell you. The principal can fill you in when we get there.”

“Seriously?”

“Sorry,” the aide mumbled, keeping her gaze straight ahead.

Cole kept pace with the aide, willing her faster, and trying to reassure himself it was nothing.

They arrived in the principal's office a minute later. The principal, a large gentle man, thanked the aide and looked down at Cole.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this
, but I had to call you out of class because of your mother. Your Aunt Beth is going to take you to the hospital.”

The world froze. A painful lump blocked Cole’s throat and his next words came out as a whisper. “What happened?”

“I am not sure of the details, but she did request you to be taken there. I am sorry. I don’t know any more. I'll wait with you outside.”

The halls never seemed so long or empty or sickeningly shiny. Cole fought to keep his head straight. Fainting would only make things worse. He had to get to the hospital as soon as possible.
I’m sure it’s nothing. She’s fine. She has to be fine.

Consumed by a dizzying blur of emotion, he barely noticed his aunt's minivan pull up in front of the school.

“Come on, Cole, get a move on,” his Aunt Beth shouted in her gruff voice through the open window.

“I hope everything is all right,” the principal said as he guided Cole to the minivan.

As Cole climbed inside, he glanced at his aunt in her familiar dark brown pleated shawl, her gray hair spilling wildly over her face. “Cole! What happened? All I got was a call to come here and no one seems to know anything.”

“I don't know,” Cole mumbled as he turned to stare blankly out the window. Under normal circumstances, Cole knew he would be less than happy at the sight of his least favorite, and only, aunt, but right now he just wished they could be at the hospital already.

When they arrived, they rushed into the waiting room, Beth's shawl billowing around her, and up to the front desk, where the two receptionists were busy talking to people. Beth tapped her fingers on the counter for a few seconds before losing her patience.

“Hey, excuse me,” she said loudly to the nearest receptionist. “This is an emergency.”

The receptionist looked over. “Are you injured?”

“No. We're here to see someone who was.”

“Just one moment, then.” She turned back to the man with which she was speaking.

Beth glared at the receptionist. “What's wrong with this place?” she mumbled.

The receptionist finished with the man and came towards them.

“Oh, are you finished with your conversation?” she said sarcastically. “We need to see Meredith Sicarius. Can you tell us what happened to her?”

The receptionist looked down at a computer screen and began to type. “How do you spell the last name?”

Beth took a deep breath and deliberately spelled out the name. After more typing, the receptionist told them a doctor would be there to see them.

“Seriously?” Beth said, but the receptionist ignored her.

When the doctor arrived, Beth exasperatedly asked him if he might possibly know what had happened.

“She was hit by a car,” the doctor said. “Suffered some injuries on her back and legs. Fractured a couple ribs.”

Cole heard it as if through a haze. The doctor was nothing more than a distant disembodied voice, talking impossible nonsense.

“Will she be all right?” Beth asked.

The doctor glanced at Cole before whispering something to Beth.

At this, Cole broke through some of the fog and noticed the doctor for the first time. He was young and confident, with his hair slicked back.
Hot shot straight out of college
, Cole couldn’t help thinking. “Hey, what was that?” Cole said, his eyes narrowing. “Will she be okay?”

The doctor hesitated, some of his confidence waning as his shoulders stooped. “Sorry.
I said we're not sure yet.”

The world regained the same haze as Cole followed them down endless white corridors of sick people, feeling Death’s grim hand reaching for him out of every curtained cubicle.

At last they stopped in front of a door and the doctor leaned down to speak to Cole on his level.

“Your mother is weak so you can only stay a few minutes,” the doctor said. “We want to let you in
, but just try to be calm around her.”

The doctor opened the door. At the sight of his mother lying in the hospital bed, the reality of it all hit him like a tidal wave, choking him up. His weakness embarrassed him and he paused to force down his emotions. “Mom?” he called faintly and for a second he thought he might cry.

Meredith stirred and turned her head toward him. “Oh, Cole. You made it.” Her voice was soft and she looked half asleep.

Beth followed Cole inside but remained silent by the door. Cole stepped up to the bed and looked down at his mother. He knew now why he felt the way he did, and it wasn’t just fear for his mother’s wellbeing.
I’m so sorry Mom. I did this to you. I should have tried harder. I should have been a better son.
“Mom, what happened?”

“Hit and run... on my way to the grocery store...”

“Did you catch the license plate?” Cole cut in.