Super Dark (Super Dark Trilogy) (30 page)

“Sorry, I woke up late.”

Mrs. Murphy squinted at me through her pointy designer specs. “Well, just as long as you don’t make a habit of it.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

Peering across the room, it was clear that I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t made it in. Photography had always been a small group, but today it had whittled down even further to just four pupils.

Mrs. Murphy dimmed the lights, switched on the projector, and began flicking through slides of Mapplethorpe nudes. I began to relax a little. The darkness helped to soften my throbbing headache. I couldn’t have tolerated any glaring strip lighting after another sleepless night plagued by bad dreams.

I’d give anything not to be here—but playing truant two days in a row just isn’t an option. I’m lucky enough I got away with it the last time.

“As you can see,” Mrs. Murphy said, pointing to a photo of a naked man, “Mapplethorpe’s style was very provocative. He was fond of creating striking black and white images that make an impression.”

She can say that again!
Just looking at that toned torso was enough to set my pulse racing, and inevitably thoughts of Elliot crowded into my mind. I tried to force back the memories by grinding my teeth together.

Switching positions, I clenched my fists under my arms, drifting in and out of a semi-conscious state. I recalled the last time Elliot had held me in his arms, how warm and safe it had felt.
I wish I could be with him now.

“You’re not falling asleep back there, are you?” Mrs. Murphy asked.

I snapped my head up and widened my eyes to demonstrate how awake I was. “No, of course not.”

“Good. I was worried we’d lost you there for a minute.”

Someone giggled.

Stretching out my legs and flexing my knuckles, I forced myself onto autopilot for the rest of the lesson, trying to cultivate an interest in Mapplethorpe and the late ‘80s New York art scene. But it was no use. My head was just too weighed down with problems. Elliot had high-jacked my brain.

The hour seemed to drag on forever. I was relieved when the lights finally came on.

“Don’t forget to leave your essays on my desk on your way out,” Mrs. Murphy called as everyone packed up to go.

With a deep yawn, I gathered all my stuff together and walked toward the door. As I passed, I threw my essay down on her desk; it was something I’d hastily cobbled together the night before and hadn’t even bothered to spell-check, but I was so out of it, I didn’t care.

“Can you stay behind a minute?” Mrs. Murphy asked. She was rifling through some papers on her desk.

Reluctantly, I stalled by the door, waiting for the inevitable dressing down for being late.

She took off her specs, blew into them, and polished up the lenses with her cuff. “Take a seat please. You don’t look very comfortable standing there.”

I slid a chair across the room and sat down in front of her. “Can we make this quick? I’m gonna be late for my next class.”

“It will only take a minute. I merely wanted to know if you’re okay, that’s all. You haven’t seemed yourself lately and, well …” She glanced furtively at my bruised cheek. “I wanted to check that everything’s all right with you at home.”

“My mother’s not beating me up, if that’s what you mean.”

“Don’t be smart. That’s not what I meant. I just wanted to know how you’re finding the course.” She appeared to weigh her next words carefully. “Obviously, I’m aware of your background and I understand the difficulties you must be facing. For example, I know you’ve missed a lot of school.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Your point being?”

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m always here if you need me.”

“Thanks, I’ll bear that in mind.” I stood. “Is it all right if I go now?”

“Yes,” she said with a sigh. As I headed for the door, she handed me back my essay. “I’m giving you an extension. You’ve got till Friday to get this finished properly.”

“But I
have
finished it,” I protested.

She made a face and I took the hint. She was giving me a lifeline, so I might as well take it. Smiling wanly, I tucked the essay back into my bag.

“Thanks, Mrs. Murphy,” I said.

“Don’t mention it. Now you run along. I don’t want you to be late for your next class.”

I smiled again, and this time it was genuine.
Poor Mrs. Murphy. She probably thinks I’ve got a boyfriend knocking me around.

Sadly the truth was a little more complicated than I could share with her. Still, she was trying to look out for me, which was sweet.

The rest of the morning dragged on interminably. I found it hard to concentrate on Mr. Treagus’ History class. By the time lunch came around, I was almost ready to sleep.

A sense of foreboding flooded me as I walked through the shadowy corridor toward the cafeteria. Frasier and Becky would be waiting for answers, and now there was nowhere to hide. It was time to face the music.

When I reached the cafeteria, the whole place was packed. I quickly surveyed the room, but I couldn’t see them, so I picked up a tray and joined the line for food. My stomach felt like lead and I wasn’t hungry, but I went through the motions anyway.

I glanced across the wide array of choices, but nothing on the menu was particularly appealing. In the end, I settled for a Diet Coke and a melon slice. After I’d paid, I found a quiet seat at the far end of the room and sat with my back to everyone in the hopes of fending off unwelcome attention. I’d only taken a couple of bites of my melon when a voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Hello, stranger.”

I turned and saw Frasier standing behind me. He was wearing a green cravat with a tweed jacket and black army boots. “Scoot over,” he said, pushing his tray on the table and pulling up a chair next to me. “God, what happened to you?” He stopped grinning when he saw my bruise.

“Don’t ask,” I sighed. “I’ve already had the third degree from Murphy.”

“Did that man in the club do that to you?” he asked worriedly.

I shook my head. “No. It was just a stupid accident. I tripped and fell.”

“Maybe you should get Lee to take a look at it. You know what he did for me. Maybe he can work his magic for you, too.”

“Oh no, don’t start all that again.”

Frasier laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You don’t believe in all that healer mumbo jumbo. But one day, I’ll make you a believer, I promise.” He unscrewed a bottle of water and drank from it deeply. Then, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he scrutinized me from a side angle. “So what happened on Saturday after you left? You said you were going to call me, but you never did.”

“Sorry, but I haven’t been with it lately. I was meaning to call, but just didn’t get around to it.”

“So …” he drawled, popping a rye cracker into his mouth, “are you going to tell me what happened, or what? And don’t give me any bull about how you went straight home, ‘cuz you weren’t there when I called on Sunday.”

“Okay, okay, I stayed at Lee’s,” I admitted. Frasier smiled triumphantly. “But nothing happened,” I added quickly. “He slept on the couch. In the morning, he drove me home. That was all, I swear.”

“Uh-oh. Becky wouldn’t like that one little bit.”

“You’re not going to tell her, are you?”

“Do you think I have a death wish? Of course not. She’ll go mental. But on a different note, what is going on with you two, anyway? What is it you and Lee have between you? I sense a connection, but I’m not sure what it is.”

I fiddled with my straw then took a large swig of Coke. The saccharine tasted strangely sour on my tongue. “It’s sort of complicated,” I said, echoing Elliot’s favorite phrase. “There’s a lot of personal stuff going on. One day I’ll tell you about it, but right now, I can’t.”

“No problem.” He nodded his head sympathetically. It was obvious he would have liked to probe further, but he decided not to push it.

There was a charged silence as our thoughts took us to different places.

“So, what’s happening with you and Becky?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood. “Did you get to talk to her on Saturday?”

“About what?”

“You know, asking her out and stuff.”

“Nope,” he said. “And to be honest, I don’t think I ever will. She’s too obsessed with Lee. You should have seen how crazy she went after you two left the club. She kept trying to phone you and she got really worked up over it. So no, I won’t be asking her out any time soon.”

“I’m sorry. I know how you feel about her.”

“Ah, well,” he said, shrugging, “that’s the way the mop flops. We don’t always get what we want, do we? And anyway, I don’t think I’d ever measure up to Lee in her books. I mean, look at him and look at me. How’s a guy supposed to compete?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off. “But that’s okay with me. I’ve got plenty of other good things going on in my life to focus on. I’m young, I’m healthy, and I’m saving buckets on optician bills and Clearasil. What more could a guy ask for?”

I laughed, despite myself. Frasier always had a way of making me smile, even when I was at my lowest ebb.
This guy is one in a million.

“So, where’s Becky today?” I asked, glancing around the cafeteria. “I thought she would have been burning to grill me about Saturday.”

“Good question. I haven’t seen her today. Maybe she’s playing hooky, like you did yesterday.”

I smiled but didn’t say anything. Taking the last bite of my melon, I dabbed the corners of my mouth dry with a tissue and pushed the plate away. “By the way, how did your science exam go?”

“Don’t get me started,” Frasier groaned, rolling his eyes.

The conversation then changed to school work, and I was glad to keep things mundane. When the bell sounded, we parted to go to our afternoon classes. The rest of the day flew by, and before I knew it, I was on the bus heading home.

“Neil called earlier asking for you,” Mum said, as soon as I got through the door. “He wants you to call him back. Says it’s urgent.”

I paused, shaking out my wet hood in the hallway. “Did he?” I replied evenly. “I wonder what he wants.” I tried to make my voice sound normal, but she was having none of it.

“When exactly was the last time you saw Neil?” she probed, her tone frosty with disapproval. “I thought we’d agreed to distance ourselves from them for a while.”

“No, that’s what
you
decided,” I countered. “At no time did I agree to cut ties with Anne and Neil. You know I can’t do that. I care about them too much.”

For a second, our eyes met. We were like two bulls about to lock horns. “Well,” she said after a long pause, “do what you want—but don’t come crying to me when it blows up in your face.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

She paused as if there was something else on her mind. “By the way, Cliff finally got back to me.”

“Who?” I frowned.

“Clifford Maxwell,” Mum clarified. “Remember you asked me to check with him about the black Ford?”

“Oh that.” My heart raced. “Did he find out who the driver was?”

“No, but Cliff has confirmed that no one from the media has reopened Elliot’s case, so that should put your mind at rest. No one from the tabloids is tracking you. Perhaps you
were
just being paranoid.”

“Oh,” I said simply. I should have felt more relieved but somehow I didn’t. All this proved was that it wasn’t a journalist following me, but that still didn’t rule out other more sinister possibilities.

After another awkward silence, Mum disappeared back inside the living room. Racing to my bedroom, I threw down my bag and braced myself for what was coming. With trembling fingers, I picked up my cell phone to dial Neil’s number. My heart almost stopped as the line connected.

“Neil, it’s Sam. Mum told me you called.” I was pleased with the way my voice sounded: calm and cool and controlled.

“Yes, I did,” he replied. “Sorry to phone your landline, but I had no choice. I couldn’t get through to your cell.”

“Yeah, I know. I always have it switched off during class. Sorry.”

“Right, right …” His tone was tight, agitated.

A ripple of fear shot through me. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?” I had to whisper because I was paranoid that Mum might be eavesdropping outside the door. “How are things with you-know-who?”

“Not perfect, obviously, but we’re getting there. He’s taken Anne out clothes shopping again. You should have seen how much he’s spoiling her. Spent a fortune yesterday, took her to Harrods and Harvey Nichols. Bought her all this posh jewelry. He tried to buy me a suit and tie, but I refused. I’m not going to even ask where he’s getting all that money from, but one thing I know is that he can’t buy his way out of this. If he thinks a designer suit is all it takes for everything to be all right again …”

“Go easy on him,” I suggested. “I’m sure there’s no ulterior motive. Perhaps he just wants to treat you because you’re his dad and he loves you.”

“You say that, but how can I allow my son to spend so much money on me when I don’t know where he got it from? And he pays for everything in cash. Carries a big wad of bills around in a rubber band. That’s not normal.”