I know it kindof rambles- this is unedited, as of 11:03 AM Tuesday, March 22.
Chapter 3: Dreams and Zachary Rages (but not about him!)
I've never liked dreams, for one reason in particular.
They remind me of things I don't remember- like the first five years of my twisted life. It's as if that locked portion of my mind opens up at night- like the guards go home, or something. Because I see things that I don't want to see, I hear things I don't want to hear-
And I remember things that were forgotten for a reason.
But once I'm awake, everything is gone again, the guards back at their posts, the lock bolted shut, and that only makes the situation worse. I know those memories are there, lurking in my brain; but they're totally unreachable.
I can always tell I had one of those dreams when I wake up bleeding.
I had dug my nails a quarter inch into my palms, and it hurt. Lines of red ran down my arms- my blankets were shredded. Another disadvantage of being an avian freak- I happen to have unruly nails. Amy gave up painting them long ago, to say the least.
Gingerly easing out of bed- it must've been four in the morning- I slid downstairs and wrapped up my hands, lining band-aid after band-aid on my arms. If Charlie hadn't been on the other side of town, comfortable in his apartment, he would have helped me. I slid out the back door and towards the workshop, limping. My foot was swollen- I must've kicked the wall, or something. Maybe a bed post.
I refused to freak out until I was safe in the cab, the doors all locked as I panicked.
Wrapping the blanket around myself, I started rocking, trying to calm my shaking. My hands burned, but my mind was in a far worse state. I wouldn't be going to school tomorrow- today. There was no way. I reached underneath the bench and pulled out my emergency stash of comfort food, primarily chocolate covered peanuts. (Don't ask- I'm part bird, here. I like nuts.)
“Jenna?”
I screamed, my vision blurring from the red that lined my eyes.
“It's okay, it's okay.” Amy whispered, her voice muffled from the window. “It's only me.”
Trembling, I eased over and struggled to pull up the lock- my fingers were shaking too badly. She stepped in, her nose wrinkled, and gave me a sorrowful look.
“You were screaming again.”
No wonder my throat was so sore.
I looked away from Amy, concentrating on the chocolate in my hands. A caramel square, this time.
“Remember anything?”
“No.” My voice cracked.
“Your hands look bad.”
“They feel bad.”
She sighed, wrapping an arm around my trembling shoulders.
“You're not going to school today.”
I heard both the question and the pronouncement in her tone- she probably thought my eyes weren't acceptable for public sight.
“You'll be okay?”
I nodded.
“You probably should clean this place up.” She began, casting a cursory glance around my little heaven. “I can imagine Troy will be stopping by.”
She smiled- that mischievous look gave me the shivers. Who knew what she was planning between Troy and I.
“Okay then. Have a good day.”
It was 5:15 in the morning- time for Amy to start straightening her hair and doing who-knows- what else to get ready for school.
“Can you pick up my homework?” I croaked.
“I probably won't need too.” She smiled again. “Your friends will bring it by.”
She was right.
I did a little cleaning, primarily picking up all the feathers on the floor, but besides that, I worked on the truck. And a little table. And shelves. I kept myself busy on purpose.
It was a good thing I kept my hoodie on all day, because around , I heard the tromp of feet outside the rusty door and the sound of voices headed my way- Troy
“Jenna?” Carrie began, the door creaking open.
“Under here.” I replied, hiding underneath the truck.
“Are you okay?” Troy, this time- anxiety coated his tone.
“Um, yeah. I'm better now.”
“Amy told us you got sick- she didn't tell us the specifics.”
“Because you don't want to know.” I replied.
“Oh, then, um, I'm glad you're better. You'll be at school tomorrow, right?” Carrie asked, kneeling next to the truck and peering at me.
“Probably.”
“Cool.” Troy smiled- I could hear it in his tone. “Well, a bunch of us are going ice skating Saturday, if you want to come.”
“Well, it's a maybe.” Carrie corrected me. “Us girls want to go to Crestview for some shopping.”
Shopping- not exactly my strength. Amy would probably die of laughter if I went.
“What day is it?”
“Wednesday, silly.” Carrie laughed. “But, yeah, we got all your homework. It shouldn't be bad- it was a slow day, for me at least.”
“Slow for everyone.” Troy added.
I heard the buzz of a cell phone, and Carrie's muffled response. I knew Troy couldn't hear it all, but I did.
“Um, Troy...”
“You've gotta go?”
“My mom.”
“Oh, okay then. See you tomorrow, Jenna?”
“Yeah. See you.”
My back was killing me from laying on that skateboard for so long. I was about to take off my hoodie when I heard softer footsteps, someone lighter coming to see me. Weird. Troy and Carrie skirted this person, silent. I ducked back underneath the truck.
The door opened- I peeked and spotted a pair of black sneakers. I didn't recognize the walk.
“2015 Ford?” He asked.
I bit back my horror, the hyperventilation that threatened to burst through my lips.
“You know, I can't see you, so nodding won't help.”
He'd never spoken to me before- I'd never heard his voice. It was rich and smooth, a rather pleasant tone. I'd always imagined it hard and threatening.
“Yeah.”
I heard the creak of someone opening the hood. “Not bad on the inside- why don't you drive it?”
“No permit, no connect.”
“Those aren't hard to find.”
“For this model, they are.”
Wow. I was actually having a decent conversation with Zachary Rages. Or, was. An awkward pause filled the room as the hood snapped shut.
“So... you're sick?”
“Was.”
Another pause as he maneuvered the piles of stuff all over the garage floor, headed towards my tack board.
“Have you started any of these?”
“Some.”
“The table?”
“Yeah.”
“The legs seem thin.”
“They're the prototype.”
“Pine?”
“Hopefully oak.”
“Size?”
“4 by 5.”
“The legs will probably need to be at least 4 inches thick, not the three you have. How thick is the surface?”
I pulled myself out from underneath the truck, watching him from the floor. He didn't turn, didn't move, and I had the feeling he purposefully didn't want to look at me.
“Why are you here?” I asked, my predator senses creeping into my words.
“Why weren't you at school?” He replied.
“I was sick.”
He turned, suspicion in his brooding, black eyes. “No you weren't.”
The breath whooshed out of my lungs in one gust. “How would you know?”
“You don't look sick.”
“I'm better now!”
His look told me he didn't believe me, and I shoved myself back under the truck, infuriated.
“What happened to your hands?”
“I fell.”
He grunted, and I recognized the sound from Charlie. Arrogant kid! He didn't know anything about me.
“Zoe wanted me to bring this by. I'm putting it on the board. See you tomorrow.”
I heard the door shut, waiting for his footsteps to recede before sliding out from the truck and hopping up. It was sheet music- a violin line was highlighted.
On the table was a box- my name was scrawled on a note taped to the top.
Don't go to Crestview.
What--? Zoe wrote this, or did Zach? What the heck did that mean? Don't go to Crestview? Who were they to tell me what to do?
People are so confusing.
Almost as soon as the words registered in my mind, I decided to ignore them. They weren't going to tell me what to do- they were basically strangers! Just because I knew their names and possible criminal record didn't mean I trusted them. Especially meant I didn't trust them. Maybe they wanted revenge on Jessie and Troy's group for whatever had happened between them.
No way. I wasn't going to be the pawn.
I opened the box with trepidation- who knew what mischief the Rages could manage? So I wasn't expecting a solid pound of chocolate covered nuts. A solid, beautiful, sweet-smelling box of goodness.
They were good- both the Rages (in manipulating) and the nuts.
Was this a bribe? Or just a get-better-soon delio?
I wasn’t in the mood to wax philosophical, so I poured my attention into my homework, primarily violin. I’d have to come up with a more detailed excuse for my hands- at least they didn’t need stitches.
I skipped dinner, partially to avoid Amy’s questions about who had dropped by, and partially because I was still too shaken to handle a lot of food. The wind roaring in my ears settled my frazzled nerves, and I was too distracted to notice the dark shapes watching me from the workshop’s shadow.
I didn’t dream that night.
School wasn’t so bad- I painted my cradle in Workshop, and I managed to follow along with every other note in Chorus. Mr. Sarks approved of my progress.
The girls debated ice skating or shopping during lunch- I didn’t have much to say in that conversation.
Those were the highlights of my day- my first Thursday in real live school.
Friday beat it hands down.
Firstly, I decided to go to Crestview with the girls, no matter what the Rages said. The decision had Amy’s stamp of approval, though I didn’t need it. Secondly, the Rages weren’t at school, though Sam was. He looked lonely, but I was too scared to talk to him. The kid is intimidating- partially because he’s twice my weight- easily- and a good eight inches taller. And because he stared at me.
That sent chills down my spine- it triggered all of my predator/prey nerves right in the middle of class. I wanted to run, but didn’t dare- helpless and vulnerable. It looked like he wanted to ask me a question, but didn’t have the guts to do it. Don’t ask me why or why not- I knew nothing about him.
The weekend breezed by, chased by the school week. Before I knew it, I had my schedule memorized, and the hallways lost their labyrinth qualities. My lock was a cinch to my experienced fingers; I started recognizing faces from my classes, with names to go with them.
It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.
Granted, Algebra went above my head, but I wasn’t flunking or anything.
Biology was a different matter.
Zack wasn’t in class that day, though he had been in English, and I wrongly assumed that would make the day better. Just when I was getting used to the stuffed animals and random skeletons distributed through his room, Mr. Natick threw another fast ball at us. That fast ball was called dissection.
Some people think it’s cool. Others think it’s gross in an awesome kind of way. Could someone please enlighten me? What is so cool about sticking pins and sharp items inside of a body, of peeling aside skin and sinew, just to see something’s guts and to poke at its’ intestines?
It makes me wonder if the scientists who made me started out like this- high school students poking a rat’s corpse.
Sam, however, was in the cool opinion- I lost all self control when he pulled out the small intestine, gave me a mischievous smile, and asked: “Do you want to jump rope?”
Thankfully I didn’t puke or anything- I fainted.
“Jenna?”
The voice sounded far away and echoed, like the sound was underwater.
“Jenna, I’m sorry. Wake up.”
“Give her some room, students.” Mr. Natick was saying. “Let the poor thing breathe.”
“She looks like she’s gonna be sick.” Was that Nate? Or was his name Nick?
“She’s coming around.”
“Should I go get the nurse?”
“No- we’ll wait for her.” Mr. Natick replied.
I didn’t want to open my eyes. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to have to face all my jeering classmates, and I definitely didn’t want to be the laughing stock of the day. But someone touched my face- that jerked me back to reality, reminding me of the memories that I couldn’t find and the reflexes that attested to their existence.
“Just breathe, Jenna.” Mr. Natick began. He reached over to thump my back but I leapt up, swaying. My vision flickered, and I began falling-
Nate- or Nick- caught me. “I’ll take her to the nurses’ office, sir.”
“I should,” Sam argued. “I’m the one who made her faint anyway.”
“Nathan, go ahead.” Mr. Natick began. “Sam, clean up. You have detention.”
Nate put his arm around my waist, and if it wasn’t awkward enough, he began soothing me. He really sucked at it too- telling me about how gross dissection was, for Pete’s sake! 1) I already knew it, and 2) My stomach was already having problems.
At one point, I wasn’t quite sure where we were, my legs gave out. I crumpled like I had been shot. Nate wasn’t prepared- I slipped though his fingers and folded together on the floor. The ground was cold and that was fine with me.
“Jenna?” He asked, kneeling beside me, anxiety coating his tone.
“Go away.” I mumbled. The floor’s company was better than his.
“Are you gonna puke?”
What a lovely question.
“Is she okay?” Asked another voice.
I cringed, both emotionally and physically. Anyone but Zachary Rages would have been better- even the principal, or Amy.
“I’ve got it, Zack.” Nate spat.
Zack chuckled, like my patheticness amused him.
“Obviously you don’t, considering she’s on the floor.”
I could practically feel the heat between them. I liked the coldness of the floor much better.
“What happened to her?”
“Sam asked her if she wanted to jump rope with an intestine.”
My stomach threatened to revolt.
“What are you doing?” Nate suddenly asked. My eyes were still closed, and I didn’t care enough to change that until a pair of strong arms pulled me up.
I felt like a toothpick in Zack’s arms- he acted like I weighed five pounds rather that ninety-five.
“Hey!” Nate cried, following us as Zack carried me down the hallway.
“Put me down.” I mumbled.
Zack chuckled again- the noise rumbled right by my ear, and I noticed how warm he was.
“Put her down!” Nate echoed, running in front of us.
I closed my eyes again, too dizzy to follow the conversation.
“You can’t make me.” Zack replied. “You weren’t helping her, and clearly she needs to get to the nurses’ office.”
“She wanted to stop!”
“And do you think that’s what’s best for her?” Zack snapped, his rich tone replaced by a cold hiss. Who was he, to say what was best for me?
Nate fell silent and followed, opening the door as Zack pulled me into the office.
“Oh,” The nurse sighed, “There’s always one in Biology. Just put her down on the couch there.”
To be honest, I didn’t want Zack to put me down. He was warm and smelled like musty leather, and I was comfortable in his arms, even though I initially thought it was awkward. But the couch was squishy, and his arm were, well, hard. Someone put a damp towel on my forehead, and sleeping suddenly seemed like a brilliant idea.
“You can go back to class, Nathan.” The nurse said. “You too, Zachary.”
“Actually, ma’am, I never went to class.” Zack began. “And Jenna should go home- she looks sick.”
There he was again, deciding what was best for me. I couldn’t decide whether he was being a jerk or a gentleman.
“I should take her home, ma’am. Normally she walks, but clearly…”
“Alright, Mr. Rages. Drive safe, alright? The roads are slippery out there.”
I heard Nate storm out of the office, slamming the door. The sound prompted a headache.
“Jenna?” Zack’s voice returned to its rich, soothing tone. “Can you walk?”
“Mm-hmm.” I just wanted to sleep.
He chuckled again and hauled me to my feet, wrapping a strong arm around my waist. For some reason I didn’t really worry about him noticing the Clamp- I must’ve been too sick to care. I leaned on his shoulder and let him lead on, to my locker first- I had to get my house key- and into the parking lot.
Zack had a truck; I didn’t know that. It smelled like him, or, he like it. I must’ve fallen asleep, because when my eyes worked their way open, I was laying on the couch in my family room.
Zachary Rages was, beyond a doubt, the most confusing person I had ever met. Maybe he had a multiple personality disorder- I was too tired to decide.
I could break this into 2 chappies- what do you think?
Yay! A new chapter! Hm... I think I like it as one chapter. I can't wait to hear the next :).
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