Darkness of Light (3 page)

“When were you going to tell me about this non-explosion then?” he asked.

“When I woke up.” 

Again, he looked less than amused. “So instead, I get to hear it from every gossiping biddy in the coffee shop, saying not only was there some explosion at the dance last night, but my daughter was the only one questioned by the police.”

“It’s not like I was trying to keep it from you. When I got home, you weren’t here, so I went to bed. Then I wake up to you yelling at me!”

“I’m sorry, Em.” He looked down at the paper again. “But to hear this from a bunch of prattling, old ladies first, and the fact it involved you, was extremely upsetting. You are my daughter. I want to protect you no matter what. I didn’t have a clue what they were talking about.”

I was in the middle of explaining what had happened the previous night when the phone rang. Mark grabbed the receiver. “Hello?” There was a pause, his lips twisting into a frown, making my pulse quicken. 

Oh shit.

“Good morning, Sheriff. How may I help you?”

Shitshitshit!

I tried to swallow the lump growing in my throat as Mark’s face became grimmer. I had “temporarily” forgotten that the sheriff wanted Mark and me to come down to the station later in the afternoon to meet with him and Principal Mitchell. This was the kind of morning where I wished I hadn’t bothered to get up.

Mark got off the phone, and I anxiously waited for his words. 

“Sheriff Weiss wants to meet with us at four-thirty today,” he said. It was hard to decipher his mood when he spoke like this. He turned and looked out the window. The silence in the room grew to an ear-piercing level.

“Mark?” My voice was soft. I didn’t know if he’d heard me so I repeated his name. Finally, he broke out of the trance captivating his thoughts.

“Be ready to go by four.” He rubbed his forehead. “I need to go for another run. I’ll be back soon.” He pivoted and was out of the house before I could even respond.

For the rest of the day, I felt like I was awaiting sentence. In a way, I guess I was. Mark’s usual laid-back attitude was anything but, and it got even worse when we walked into the police station. Humor was my default, especially in stressful situations. Trying to lighten his blackening mood, I asked Mark if he had handcuffs he could use so he could walk me in like the criminal I was. He smiled at this, but not like he normally would. This was upsetting him more than he let on. His body was defensive and stiff. He was angry with the police and the principal for accusing me of such a ridiculous thing, but I felt his anger was an act of denial that his daughter could really be the problem. 

“Do they have any proof?” he had yelled out to no one in particular on the ride over. “How in the hell can they blame you for faulty wiring? Shouldn’t they be questioning the electrician?”

We were shown into Sheriff Weiss’ office. It held all the basics: an old desk piled with manila files, an eighties-style, black phone that blinked continuously, a desk lamp, several chairs, and a banged up file cabinet in the corner. Sheriff Weiss sat behind his desk and Principal Mitchell already occupied one of the chairs opposite the sheriff. Being under the florescent lights of the police station made the reality of what was happening fill me with dread. 

“Mr. Hill, Ember, thank you for coming in,” Sheriff Weiss said. Both he and Principal Mitchell stood and reached out to shake Mark’s hand. They each gave me a short, curt nod.

Sheriff Weiss motioned for Mark to sit in the only available chair. Guess I was standing. This meeting seemed to have little to do with my input anyway; they had already made up their minds about me. I wanted to be invisible, so I pushed myself against the wall, hoping I’d blend in with its chipped, off-white texture.

“I really don’t understand why you called us down here. I can’t fathom how you’ve come to the conclusion my daughter had anything to do with last night,” Mark said.

“I’m not saying she did. I just have a few questions.” The sheriff’s patronizing tone wasn’t lost on Mark.

Mark’s demeanor hardened. “Let’s just cut the crap, Sheriff.” He leaned in. “We all know you didn’t call us down here because you think she’s innocent.”

Weiss pressed his lips together and sat back in his chair. “You’re right, Mr. Hill, I do think she knows more than she’s letting on, and I do believe she’s somehow involved.” He shot me an accusatory glance. “Do I think she was alone in this? No, it’s far too complicated and complex for a girl her age to pull off by herself.”

“Excuse me? A girl my age? You think it’s too ‘complex’ for me? Are you serious?” I shot off before I could stop myself. Mark gave me a look that made my mouth shut with an audible click. It often got me in trouble. My brain and my mouth didn’t always communicate when my buttons were pushed. I definitely got this from my mom. She could be a hothead, reacting first, thinking later. Mark loved and hated that about her. He loved her passion, but sometimes her passion would come out at inopportune times—kind of like this one.

A slight smile formed on Weiss’ mouth, like I had just proven his theory—as if he had been baiting me into a confession. He didn’t understand I couldn’t confess, even if I wanted to. There was nothing to confess except a guilty feeling.

“What proof do you have?” Mark asked. “I’m furious about how this whole thing has been handled. You are treating my daughter like a criminal. Do you have ANY proof besides your insane theories about how she climbed up into the rafters and messed with the lighting?”

“Mr. Hill, what the fire investigation team came up with was inconclusive, but they haven’t ruled out foul play yet,” Principal Mitchell stated.

“So what you’re saying is you have no proof?”

“Proof or not, the fact is that these explosions aren’t a new occurrence. They mysteriously began back around the time your daughter starting attending my school. And she has been at the center of every single episode.” Principal Mitchell leaned forward in his chair, tapping his fingers on the desk for emphasis. “I will not put the other students, most of whom I’ve known their whole lives, in harm’s way just because you think your child is innocent!” 

The tension was becoming unbearable. Sheriff Weiss held up his hand to calm the principal. “Mr. Hill, how many of these ‘electrical incidents’ has Ember told you about?”

Mark looked surprised. “Well, there was a small one a couple years back, and then one at the beginning of the school year, I think, and then the one last night.” Doubt crossed Mark’s face. “Why?” 

My stomach twisted. I knew exactly where Weiss was going with this.

“Three, huh?” A condescending smile twitched on Weiss’s lips. “Mr. Hill, what if I told you since the day your daughter started in the school system five years ago, we have been called out there six times? Six times, Mr. Hill, and that is not counting the metal shop incident. For the record, the school never had anything like this happen before she started. Circumstances and common sense makes this pretty cut and dry to me.” 

Mark looked over at me, dumbfounded. “What are you talking about? What Metal Shop incident?” 

I had hoped he would never learn about what happened there. It was something I tried to block from my mind. On that day, we had been sculpting with iron. I should have tried to get out of the project. Ignoring my intuition, I continued on with the project. I knew better, but I hadn’t wanted to explain why I couldn’t touch the metal. Ever since I was very young, I had this strange allergy to certain forms of iron. My skin would itch and buzz and I would feel really sick. The purer the iron, the more tired and sick I felt. Thankfully, most things nowadays weren’t made with pure iron. I guess I had hoped in Metal Shop it would be different or I could ignore the symptoms. 

The moment the blowtorch got close to the piece of metal I knew I had made a huge mistake. The odd feeling arose in me, and my organs felt like they were vibrating and tearing apart. The torch exploded in my hand, burning a hole in the ceiling. The chunk of iron flew across the room, hitting a kid in the head, knocking him out. It was declared an accident, but I could see the speculation and doubt in every face afterwards. I never had a partner in shop class again. 

“What’s he talking about, Em?” 

I avoided Mark’s gaze, ashamed of the embarrassment and pain I was causing him. It didn’t change the fact I couldn’t tell him anything. The only things I could say to him would send me straight to the funny farm. 

“So, there were other times you didn’t tell me about.” All I could do was nod. “I see,” he said. 

He didn’t see. He didn’t know how far things had progressed and how real my hallucinations had become.

I limited how much I told Mark about my crazy experiences, and now it was coming back to bite me in the ass. I watched his face as his emotions went from anger toward Weiss and Mitchell, to disbelief, back to anger, and then to disappointment in me. Seeing uncertainty in his eyes tore me apart. Because I hadn’t told him the truth before, he doubted me now. 

The sheriff leaned back in his chair, pulling a file towards him. “Also, this isn’t the first time something like this has happened at a school your daughter attended, right Mr. Hill?” There was a smug glint in his eyes. “I see two similar incidents happened at a school she attended back in California. She was asked to leave after half of the building burned down. It was even recommended she be placed in a psychiatric hospital. Now tell me, Mr. Hill, can you really not see the connection between your daughter and these incidents?” 

An icy sensation trickled down my spine. The truth was right in front of his eyes. Mark could no longer deny that I was crazy.

“So, what is your plan for me, then?” I whispered. 

“Well, Ember, the Sheriff and I have been talking, and we both agree it would be best if you’re in a different environment for a while,” Principal Mitchell said.

“You’re kicking me out of school?”

Principal Mitchell pulled out some pamphlets from the leather briefcase sitting at his feet. “This is what I’m talking about.” He handed the material to Mark.

“You want my daughter to go to juvie?”

“That’s not exactly what Silverwood is, Mr. Hill. It is a facility for troubled teens, for those in trouble emotionally or with the law.”

“We think this is in her best interest and for the other students who go to Olympia High,” Weiss stated firmly. 

My mouth went dry. I was paralyzed and speechless. Observing all of this, I was powerless to do anything about what was unfolding.  

“You can’t do this! You have no proof she did anything. This is wrong!” Mark threw the documents down onto the desk.

“I was trying to be considerate of Ember, Mr. Hill. I could expel her from my school. I have that right. We have statements from several students, parents, and even a teacher, who all feel their safety is threatened if she continues on there.”

“What?” I spat. 

My outburst was ignored. “I am providing a compromise. If she attends Silverwood, temporarily, and her marks remain satisfactory, she will graduate in June like planned. On the other hand, you could take her out of school completely. The online GED will take six months. Most colleges won’t bother with her application, if she is planning on going to college, that is. It is really up to you.” He thought for a second and then added, “It’s only for a few weeks, Mr. Hill, and then we will reevaluate Ember’s progress. If everything’s good, she can come back and resume her classes.” Principal Mitchell sat back in his chair, looking like he should get a gold star for being such an agreeable guy. I still wanted to deck him.

“This is bullshit and you know it. Ember is not a threat to anyone.” Mark looked like he wanted to punch Principal Mitchell as well.

“Think what you like, but I have to consider everyone at the school, not just Ember,” Mitchell shot back. “I’m sorry, but Ember is no longer welcome at my school, at least for the time being.” 

No one breathed; the air was ripped from the room, holding the room in tense silence. 

“Ember, why don’t you go get some coffee,” Mark’s taut voice shattered the silence.

“What? No—not if this has to do with me.”

“Ember,” his voice warned. “Let me talk to the sheriff and Mr. Mitchell alone for a moment, okay?” 

I bit my lip to keep me from vocalizing any more protests, and nodded. I pulled myself off the wall and headed out the room, not caring if the door shut harder than it should have. 

Five

The waiting room held a generic coffee vending machine. I absently plopped quarters into the slot, my mind reeling with what had just happened. A few people mingled or sat around the room, but my attention immediately fell on a guy sitting in the corner. A hoodie covered his head, and a beat-up paperback book in his hand blocked his face from view.

My skin started to tingle and the hair on my arms stood on end. My body went on high alert as if it was warning me of danger. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as I got my coffee from the machine. He continued to read his book, seemingly oblivious to me. But for some reason, I felt he was aware of every inch of space around him, including me. This strangely intrigued me, but of course, it had been well proven that I wasn’t right in the head.

I sat down on a chair near him and picked up a magazine. I tried to focus on the scalding, cheap coffee in my hand and the gossip magazine in my lap, but my attention and my eyes wandered back to him. Not seeing anything but his fingers, which were curled around the well-worn book, I couldn’t tell how old he was. From his body language and his form, I guessed he was in his early twenties. 

There was something about him that felt familiar, which was odd. I was pretty certain our paths had never crossed. I would remember meeting him; his presence was not something I’d forget. He didn’t seem to fit in the room. Even though he had to be well over six feet tall, he seemed to take up even more space than just his physical form.  

He shifted in his seat, making some instinct in me kick in. I jumped up defensively, spilling half my coffee. Every head turned my way—every head except his. He didn’t even flinch. The entire room watched me with curiosity and apprehension while his attention stayed locked on his book. My face flamed as I realized he had just shifted in his seat and was not springing up to attack me.