(Un)bidden (2 page)

“Whoever you had filming did a wonderful job,” I said.  “If you’re this good over a no name nothing like me, I can only imagine how good you’ll be when you’re reporting on something real.  Good luck.”

I walked from the gym with my head high.  The sound of whispers faded as I went to my locker and emptied it of everything except the textbooks.  It was more than I could jam in my backpack.  I stared at the loose papers and various work that still needed to be completed.  Then, I threw everything into the trash.  I wouldn’t be back.

I picked up my bag, closed the locker, and made my way to the main entrance.  Any remaining faculty who moved to question me, I turned away with a thought.

Outside, the air smelled of warm blacktop.  Spring was making way for summer.

I stopped on the steps and turned to look back.  Despite releasing the wills of everyone in the gym, I continued to sense their threads.  They still watched Penny.  My throat tightened as I pictured her red, angry face.  I’d made a serious enemy of her as a child, one I’d underestimated all these years.  Her determination to expose me consumed her, and I considered going back to make her forget everything.

Instead, I walked away.

The trek home didn’t take long.  Neither Mom nor Dad was there, yet.  I went to my room, set my backpack on the bed, and looked around.  Memories of a happy childhood decorated my space.  Shells collected from a beach sat next to the barrettes Mom gave me for my last birthday.  I touched the little clips.  I rarely wore them.  I was too old.  But, she didn’t see me that way.  My hand dropped to the first dresser drawer, and I pulled it open.  Slowly, I started to remove the essentials I’d need and placed them in the backpack.

Thirty minutes later, Mom came home.  I waited for her in the kitchen.

“Hi, sweetheart.  How was your day?”

“It didn’t go well, Mom,” I said, grabbing her will.  An ache grew in my chest for what I knew I needed to do.

“Oh?  Tell me what happened.”  She set down the groceries she’d been carrying and looked at me.

“What happened doesn’t matter.  I need to leave.  And I need you to be okay with that.  Don’t look for me.  Don’t report me missing.”

She nodded and bent to give me a hug.

“Call me when you can, so I know you’re all right,” she said softly and gave me one last squeeze.

“I’ll try.  Tell Dad I love him.  I love you both.”  I stood and shrugged into my backpack.  “And if Penny comes around, let her know I left, and I’m not coming back.  Ever.”

The thread of her will changed suddenly.  It grew soft and slippery.  I fought to maintain my hold.

“Ever?” she said.

The thread seemed to melt away further, and I struggled to ignore how badly I knew I was hurting her.

“Mom, listen to me.  Penny knows I’m different, and she’ll do everything she can to get someone to believe her.  If I stay, I won’t be safe.  I have to leave.”  My voice broke on the last word.  Regardless, I firmed my hold on her will.

The thread stopped softening as she nodded.

“We love you, too,” she said.  Then, she left the kitchen.  I could hear her crying.

I released her will, and with nothing more than my backpack, I walked out the door.

*    *    *    *

As the sun set, I realized my mistake.  I hadn’t packed a sleeping bag or blanket.  To be fair, neither would have fit in my backpack.  Miles separated me from home, and I wasn’t about to go back.  Instead, I found a quiet tree in a park, leaned against the trunk, and dozed in the dark.

A few hours later, I woke shivering.  Silence surrounded me.  I wrapped my arms around myself and stared up at the stars.  I’d stopped asking the universe “Why?” a long time ago.  The only question I ever asked anymore was “What next?”

When I’d left home, I’d planned to hitch rides and see where they took me.  Older kids talked about hitching all the time.  It seemed the best way to disappear.  But, I had no money to feed myself.

As if the universe listened, a man walked past my spot.  I quickly stood.

“Excuse me, sir.  Would you be able to spare any money?”

When he kept walking, I grabbed his will and repeated my question.  I didn’t demand that he help me, only that he consider it.

He stopped moving and turned toward me.  He frowned slightly and rubbed his jaw.

“I don’t have much but I could spare a dollar.  Will that help?”

“It would.  Thank you,” I said, trying to ignore my guilt.  Using my ability for personal gain made me sick.  Yet, what other choice did I have?  The faster I left town, the safer I would be.  If I thought of what I did as self-preservation, it made what I was doing tolerable.

He reached into his wallet and pulled out a dollar.  I felt better when I saw it wasn’t his only bill.  After thanking him again, I left the park.

Walking kept me warm so I stayed on the move as the sky lightened.  The rising sun heated my back .  I continued to speak with people I ran into and forced them to consider helping me.

I managed to collect ten dollars before one man offered something other than money; he offered me a ride to the next town.  I gratefully accepted, and we drove west, away from Penny and my parents.

Bud was a mellow fellow who didn’t ask many questions.  He still liked to talk, though.  He’d woken up that morning and decided he wanted to visit his brother in Canada.  So he’d quit his job and gotten in his car.  He wasn’t sure if he had enough money to get there, but it didn’t seem to concern him.

The prospect of leaving the States intrigued me, and I asked if I could tag along.  He smiled, told me I was good company, and agreed to take me with him.  Over the next few days, we made our way north.

At our first stop just on the other side of the Canadian border, I told him I was ready to travel on my own and thanked him for the ride.  I couldn’t take any more of the rank smell from his hand-rolled cigarettes.

With a wave, I walked away from Bud.  I’d put enough distance between Penny and me.  Yet, every time someone glanced my way, nervousness would grip me.  A little voice told me I needed to keep moving and find somewhere to hide until Penny forgot.

Recalling her furious expression, I wondered how long that might take.

*    *    *    *

I roamed for weeks, begging for food or money and sleeping in the open.  The full bloom of summer made my nights more comfortable as did the knit poncho someone had given me.  Yet, each sunrise brought less light to my life.  How could I keep going like this?  I wanted a bed, a shower, and a real meal.  More than that, I didn’t want to be alone anymore.  I wanted a friend.  A kind soul to shelter me from the reality of the scary world I lived in.

Distracted by self-pity, I took a drink from my canteen, stood, and started walking again, paying little attention to the road.  I didn’t need to.  It was the same with every town.  I drifted in, stayed a day—any more than that drew attention to my begging—and drifted out after buying some food.  Then, I walked until I came to the next town.  Sometimes, it was the same day.  Sometimes, it took more than a day.  I figured it didn’t really matter as long as I kept moving.

Hours later, the pavement ended and turned into a narrow dirt road.  I kept walking.  It wasn’t until the sun kissed the treetops that I really looked around.  There was nothing but trees and the dirt road on which I stood.  No, not true.

A sign stood sentinel in the overgrown ditch.  I stared at it, not reading the words but focusing on the numbers.  Over one hundred miles separated me from the next town.  I turned around and looked back the way I’d come.  Nothing but the narrow road and trees.  How long had I been walking?  How many nights had I slept against a tree?

The leaves rustled in the light breeze as I stood there trying to decide what to do.  I didn’t have much food left.  The container of water I’d refilled yesterday at a creek beside the road was still fine, though.

With a tired sigh, I kept walking.

Just before dark, I spotted a trail that led away from the road.  Waist-high grass covered the breadth of the path.  No trees obstructed it, however, and I wondered if it was an old logging trail.  Nothing about it seemed welcoming.  In fact, dusk had already sent most of the track into shadow.  Yet, for some reason, I felt compelled to walk the lane as if the universe were again answering my “what next?” question.

I started forward, parting the grass.  The trail seemed never ending, and as I walked, night claimed the sky.  Only the soft glow of the moon kept me from wandering lost.

The trees ended abruptly and revealed a large clearing with several buildings.  Excitement and relief filled me.  Finally, a bed.  Then, as I studied the dark and quiet structures, a sense of abandonment touched me.  Moonlight glinted off the broken glass in a few of the windows.  Weeds crowded against the walls and surrounded the stubby porch.

The buildings were alone and forgotten, but it didn’t matter.  The largest of them appeared to have a solid roof, and that was more than I’d had in weeks.

I waded through the grass and stepped up onto the sagging porch.  Thankfully, the boards held my weight.  I reached out and pulled the latch on the large door.  The panel quietly swung open, and the scents of must and dust drifted out.  An abyss waited just inside.

I eased the backpack from my shoulders, and from an outside compartment, I withdrew a lighter.  It sparked to life on the first strike and created a pocket of light.  It was bright enough to see my way as I stepped over the threshold into a large, empty room.

Weathered boards lined the floor and made up the walls.  In a straight horizontal line, a few rusty nails poked from the boards near the door.  An obvious place to hang coats.  I slowly made my way into the interior, swinging the lighter back and forth to see.

On the far side of the room, I found a hallway.  I wandered down its length and watched the spider webs that clogged the ceiling disappear as my flame neared.

When I came to a partially closed door, I paused to nudge it open with my foot.  It was just an empty room with a broken window.  I moved on until I found another door.  Each room I found equally disappointed me.  There was never a bed, just broken glass and leaves that mingled with the dust on the floors.  Yet, the number of rooms amazed me.

When I found a set of stairs, I carefully ascended and continued to check doors until I found a room that still had a whole window.  The window afforded a view of the moonlit clearing.  The weak light through the window was enough to see by, so I extinguished the lighter and closed the door.

Exhausted from a day of walking, I was ready to sleep even without the bed I’d hoped for.  Using my bag as a pillow, I made myself comfortable on the floor.  As I lay in the moonlight, I wondered what I’d found here.  Based on what I’d seen outside, the buildings were definitely not new.  Yet, they weren’t falling apart either.  There were so many rooms, all of varying sizes.  I wondered if perhaps this was an old commune or something.

I exhaled slowly and shut my eyes, listening to the night sounds.  It didn’t take me long to drift off, but I woke often since the hard floor was more uncomfortable than the ground.

By morning light, I stood with a slow stretch.  My spine cracked in several spots, and I felt sore.

Shouldering my pack, I began exploring the rest of the building.  The empty rooms seemed never ending.  Then, I came to a set of heavy double-doors.

I pushed them open and stared at the enormous space I’d discovered.  Two old stone fireplaces, blackened by soot and age, were the room’s source of heat.  I frowned, thinking back to the rooms I’d checked, and couldn’t recall one outlet or heating vent.  How had the people who lived here kept warm in winter?

Along the interior wall to the left of the main doors, a rough counter set with a small stone trough and an old hand pump gave me a good indication of the lifestyle of those who’d once lived here.  I stepped into the room and pushed the doors closed behind me.  There weren’t as many cobwebs in this room but just as many leaves littered the floor near the room’s broken window.

I walked over to the pump and started pumping.  A loud, metallic groan filled the air; and though I cringed at the noise, I didn’t stop.  My arm grew tired by the time any water came out.  It ran brown at first then clear.  I scooped a handful and sniffed it.  It smelled fine and was cold in my palm.  I tried a bit and smiled at the fresh, crisp taste.

As I pulled the water container from my backpack, I heard a distant howl.  The sound didn’t scare me.  I rather liked it.  It meant I wasn’t alone.

I set the container in the sunken trough and started pumping again.  Water splashed the top of it, almost knocking it over.  I kept the handle moving with one hand and held the container steady with the other.  It took a few minutes, but I filled it.

After the handle fell for the last time and the water stopped splashing, I thought I heard something.  As I quietly capped the container and slid it into my pack, I listened.  Slight noises reached me.  Nothing definite.  It could have been the building settling; or because of the racket of the pump, I might have drawn the curious attention of whatever had howled.

It didn’t overly concern me.  Animals were generally cautious around humans.  I slipped my arms through the straps of the backpack.