Chapter Eight
Nothing But Normal
Thump.
"Hey, hey!" Lara lifts her head off the cafeteria table. "Silence is mandatory."
Avery smiles and sits down in her seat. She reaches into the book bag she's just dropped on the table and pulls out an apple.
"Not feeling too good, huh?"
Lara glares at her and drops her head back on the table. Avery grins and looks at me.
"How about you?"
I had actually been feeling alright compared to everyone else. I had woken up with a blurry mind and the beginning of a pounding headache but two aspirins and a hot shower cleared them both up.
Stacey, on the other hand, had wandered into class at second period, heavy bags beneath her eyes and hair sticking out at all angles. She had obviously stayed the night at Noah's.
"I'm okay." I reply and look down at my food. I'm still tossing up in my head whether the whole eye thing with that Merida girl and Avery actually happened. It was freaky, to say the least.
Plus, thoughts of the body in my backyard barely hidden in the treeline of the forest are woven in amongst it all as well.
Lara suddenly lets out a long groan.
"Why'd you come to school if you felt so bad?" I ask her.
She looks up from the table, clearly annoyed. Everytime someone meets my eye, panic grips me. I keep expecting their lips to form the words, "I know what you did."
"Because Mum refused to let me. She said I had to come to school and get the stuff I had left in my locker." she throws her hands in the air. "Because apparently it would be absolutely disastrous if I left it here over the break."
Then she adds, "And I couldn't really tell her I had a hangover because as far as she knows, I was at Stacey's house studying for an upcoming history test."
Stacey smiles. "It's a normal part of growing up. You tried it and you paid the price. Surely she could accept that?"
Lara shoots her a look. "Obviously you don't know my mother."
I grin widely and watch as Noah comes to sit down beside Stacey. He smiles at her and puts an arm around her waist.
"So you guys got home alright?" I ask and Noah nods in answer.
"We went back to Noah's a couple hours before dawn. We gave that drunk a lift back, too." Stacey inclines her head towards Lara then winks at me. "Though she was pretty insistent on going home with Danny-boy."
Lara groans into the table. "Don't remind me."
I laugh and look around the cafeteria, which is partly empty. A few seats are taken up by the usual groups that sit there, idly eating their lunches and chatting about what their doing during the holidays. It takes me a single glace around the room to notice that there's something off, and it's not just the missing kids.
I frown. The seats are in the same spots, the windows in tact. But somethings niggling at me, demanding I find out what's different.
"What's wrong?" asks Avery as she follows my gaze across the room.
I shake my head, as if to rid myself of the feeling, and turn back to her. "Nothing."
Ten minutes later, when the bell rings and I make my way to my art class, I get the strange sensation again. It seems to creep up my neck as I walk, unnerving me to the point where I'm forced to look behind me.
It takes me the entire walk to my next classroom to understand the feeling I was getting.
It's the feeling of being watched.
-
-
For the entire school day I move from classroom to classroom collecting all my old books and artworks. Most of the books go straight in the trash since I no longer need the dozens of pages of notes I had written out for the end of the year tests. I had taken them already and had scored above average in my school district, which earned a little burst of pride from me.
Mrs. Waverly, my geography teacher, had rewarded me with a broad smile and a pat on the back. She told me how happy she was that at least one of her students was actually listening to her when she was teaching. Which is funny because most of the time I wasn't.
I find myself unknowingly avoiding Avery. I spend most of the day preventing even seeing her in the hallways and by the time I reach sixth period, I'm certain I'm in the clear.
But then my luck runs out.
"Why are you avoiding me?" Avery asks the moment she darts in front of me in the middle of the hallway.
"I'm not." I say and attempt to move pass her. She cuts me off.
"You are." she pauses. "Is this because of last night?"
I snap my attention from my finger nails to her face. "So you remember?"
"Of course!" she rolls her eyes. "Seriously, you don't have to worry about Merida. She was just a girl from my old town that I didn't really get along with. No big deal."
"No." I groan. "Listen, I know this is going to sound a little bit weird but right before Merida walked off her eyes they... glowed. And yours did the same."
She frowns and I see by the look on her face that she's about to deny it. I put up a hand to stop her.
"And don't even pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about."
Her brow creases in the slightest twitch of amusement. "Sorry but I really don't."
She moves past me and begins her walk down the hall but I grab her wrist and stop her.
"You..." Suddenly I'm without words and the only thing I can think is; Why is she lying to me?
"In the entire time you've been here," I say. "You haven't given me one truthful explanation to what the hells been going on. You haven't even given me the real reason to why you disappeared. I saw your eyes and I know you saw me looking because you turned and ran off."
Her mouth is parted the slightest bit and it would only take the tiniest effort for any word's to come sliding out.
"I..." She begins, almost as if she's actually going to tell me. "I don't know what to tell you, Parker."
It's the use of my full name that finally rips that little piece of hope I have right out of my chest.
Without another word, I turn and walk away.
When Friday draws to it's anticlimactic end and I make my way to the front gates, I inwardly wish I didn't have to work tonight.
I would have liked to at least start off my holiday's relaxing at home, but no. Work was calling.
I have half an hour to replace my school clothes with the ink black shirt and shorts of the diner, eat some kind of power snack and get to the middle of town.
On this rare night, I allow myself the luxury of driving there. I park the Impala in the back parking lot - which is reserved for employee's only - and head inside.
Hanging on it's usual hook is my pure white apron which has been washed and bleached of it's previous stains. Curtsey of Paul himself.
I pick up my shift right where Ronda, a red haired and green eyed waitress, should be leaving hers. She gives me a wide smile when she see's me.
"Hey there, Parker!" She drawls in her high Southern Carolina accent.
Ronda had moved here two years ago from America after escaping her abusive father and uncaring mother. She had told Paul her story the very day she applied for a job here and he had accepted her resumé almost immediately. She had told only me and two other waitresses what had happened to her.
Her father, a mean old man with anger issues and a drinking problem, had taken his life's failures out on her. He beat her almost nightly and her mother never said a word about it. Apparently, she was too hopped up on pain pills to say anything really.
Ronda had said that the final straw was when she realized the looks he was giving her. As she had grown up, they had changed from hateful and disgusted to lustful and demanding. She was more afraid of what he would do sexually then anything else. That was, as she says, the moment she decided to leave. To start her life over.
Her entire story frightened me. What if my own father changed like that? Decided he'd had enough of wallowing in his own self pity and thought he could do more good with his fists?
"You ready to start your shift?" Ronda asks as she wipes the counter with a wet cloth.
"Yeah, has it been busy?" I ask.
She gives me a pitying look. "Unfortunately so, honey. You might get quite the crowd in here tonight."
I sigh. "Who's on with me tonight?"
She smiles. "Me. I'm on the double shift."
"Why would you do that to yourself?" I ask as the front door ting's at the arrival of a customer.
"I've got bills to pay and food to buy." She shrugs and walk's to the table the new arrival has seated themselves at.
Ronda was only seventeen when she left America. When she arrived here, she was sad and alone and deeply broken. Two years on and she's become a completely different person. A better person.
Maybe I could be like her one day.
"Burger and fries with extra salt and salad on the side," I recite as I scribble the order onto my notepad.
"Could I get a diet cola with that as well?" Asks the brunette woman with a wide and pleading smile.
I give her a sweet smile back. "Of course."
I drop my notepad in my apron pocket and head towards the kitchen.
"John?" I call to grab the attention of the boy hovering over a cooking stove.
John, a tall and friendly sixteen year old, had only started working here a little over five months ago. But he had learnt the ropes of the dinner in a single week and had advanced straight to chef after Paul discovered his extraordinary cooking and organizing skills.
"Burger and fries with extra salt and salad on the side," I tear off the note and attach it to the rotating hanger at the kitchen window.
"Thanks Parker!" He calls after me.
I retrieve the woman's coke and set it down on the table for her before whisking off to attend another customer.
I'm writing down the order of two pasta bake's when a chill rushes up my spine, shaking my body.
I laugh and apologize to the couple I'm serving.
The young lady waves it off. "It's alright, honey."
I take her order back to the kitchen and return to my section of the diner. I'm just coming back from table six when I catch sight of a man staring right at me from a wall booth across the room.
My breath catches in my throat as another shiver runs down my spine, just as sudden as the first. His hair is blond, cut close to his head, and he gazes at me with piercing, sea blue eyes that seem to hold me in place. He's wearing a black jacket over a white shirt and denim jeans.
And he's sitting in my section.
I clear my throat and force my self to walk over to him.
He's more than a little attractive and any girl would be over joyed to even have him spare them a glance. I bet he's the kind of guy that make's girls swoon at his feet when he simply smiles at them.
And yet there's something about him that put's me on edge, that make's my spine tingle and my mind shout a warning that I can't fully make out.
"Hello, what would you like?" I ask, eyes cast down at my notepad.
I hear the smile in his voice when he talks. "I'd like to know your name."
"Parker." I answer quickly. "Tonight's specials are-"
"I'm not really hungry." He interrupts.
I drop one hand on my hip and glare at him. "Then why are you here?"
The question comes out as a nasty sounding retort but he only laughs in response. "Are you working tomorrow?"
"I don't see how that's any of your business."
"I was thinking maybe I could take you out for coffee." He says.
I practically stumble back into the table behind me when he says that. A date? Surely I heard wrong.
I quickly regain my casual posture and brilliantly add. "Uh..."
"She'd love too!" Ronda put's in over my shoulder as she passes.
"Rhonda!" I hiss, turning to her in protest.
"She finishes at six," Ronda barrels on. "Maybe you could pick her up from here after that."
The boy smiles triumphantly and turns to me. "Sound's perfect."
Ronda nods and whispers "You're welcome" before dashing off to her own section.
The boy stands up. "My name's Carter by the way."
He digs in his pocket and throws a note on the table. He step's forward and grabs my hand, not giving me a second, before he lift's it to his lips and kisses it softly.
"Till tomorrow."
I almost laugh at that. He's acting like we're in some kind of corny romance film.
"But you didn't order anything," I say as I grab the note from the table.
He shrugs before turning and disappearing out the diner's front door.
I look down at the note I'm holding. It's fifty dollars.
"Wait!" I say and rush out the door after him. "There must have been a mistake-"
But he's already gone.
"Go home, kid. I've got it."
"When I've finished this." I say and continuing cleaning the abandoned diner table.
Ronda appears at my side and pick's the cloth out of my hand. I reach out to grab it back but she pulls it out of my reach.
She points to the door. "Go. Now."
I open my mouth to object but she put's one hand on her hip and points again towards the door.
I give in to her and offer up a thankful smile.
On my way to the backdoor, I untie my apron and set it on the hook it belongs too. I call out a goodbye to Ronda and push open the door into the parking lot.
Across the lot I can see my parked Impala, in the same spot I left it, back dropped by the thick tree's of the Westershade forest.
There's nothing to fear in those woods. A deer, maybe a mountain lion or two, but nothing completely life threatening.
I remember once a woman and her husband had gone hiking up into the mountains. They had returned a day earlier than they were suppose to, practically crying about how they had nearly been eaten by a ravenous wolf.
No one really believed them but they still responded the way any worried friend would. Shocked and frightened, demanding they tell every detail about their near death encounter.
Ridiculous if you asked me.
I unlock my car, get into the drivers seat and listen as the engine purr's to life. I drive out of the parking lot.
When I get home I'm surprised to realize I'm not as tired as I originally anticipated.
I search the house for dad and find him once again passed out in his bedroom, a half empty bottle of vodka siting on his bedside table.
If he can manage to scrunge up enough money from around the house, get down to the liquor store, and buy himself a drink, why can't he do anything else?
I shake my head and sigh as I close the door. I head down stairs and Blue welcomes me back with a friendly meow. I scratch him under the chin and find myself involuntarily looking out at the backyard.
It's been almost three days since The Incident. Never once did it cross my mind to call the police. And since it's been so long since it happened, calling them now might seem a little strange. Hell, very strange.
Or maybe I'm just being paranoid.
I bury my face in Blue's fur. "What the hell am I going to do?"
Blue wriggles out from under me and meows before running over to the sliding door.
I stand up, frown and slowly open it for him.
He instantly goes bolting off the deck, across the yard and into the forest.
"Blue!" I shout and then throw a hand over my mouth.
It's late and the last thing I want is for someone to come peaking over the fence to see what's going on.
I grab a coat and a flash light before closing the back door and following Blue's trail into the forest.
It take's me twenty minute's to find Blue deep in the woods, covered in dirt and calmly watching me walk towards him in the middle of a small, tree sheltered clearing.
"What on earth are you doing?" I ask him.
He meow's and look's down at the ground in front of him.
When I get closer to him I realize that he's sitting next to a large hole almost six feet deep. The ground is dark and damp and I can barely see to the bottom of it. It take's me a moment to realize what it is.
"A grave." I whisper.
Blue once again goes darting off into the forest but this time headed back towards home.
I examine the hole once more before spinning around and chasing after him.
When I reach the edge of my backyard, I run straight past the spot where the body is lying and towards the rusty old shed beside the house.
I twist the lock and push open the creaky door.
The scent of half a decade of dust and dirt fills my nostrils. I scrunch up my nose and beam the flashlight into the room.
Wrapped up and sitting inside an old wheel barrow is some ancient black tarp. According to a picture I had found in an old photo album, mum use to garden and probably used it to shelter her more light sensitive plants.
I drop the flashlight into my pocket, grab a shovel and dump it into the wheel barrow. It creak's a little as I bring it rolling out of the shed.
Blue is patiently waiting in the grass, watching this all unfold. He's already cleaned away most of the dirt on his paws but I can still see streak's of dark mud up his arms. I wonder if he...changed and dug that hole. It's the only way he could have done it so quick.
I set the wheel barrow down a couple meter's away from the body and sprint inside to retrieve a kitchen towel I can wrap around the lower half of my face and two latex sink washing gloves.
I pull them as far up my arms as I can and then tie the kitchen towel at the back of my head. I gather all my courage and push the wheel barrow over to the man.
He's in the same spot I left him. His throat is a mess of torn flesh and dried blood, shredded by Blue's lion teeth. His eyes are open in a look of complete shock and the first thing I do is reach down and slide his eyelid's shut.
The second thing I do is pull off my coat, throw it as close to the house as I can and pick the tarp out of the wheel barrow.
I roll it out right beside him and kneel on the opposite side of his body. I hesitate, not sure where I should put my hand's to roll him over.
What if he's already begun to decompose and there's insects eating away at-
I cut the thought off, close my eyes and push him with all my strength.
He rolls once straight onto the tarp and I stand up to grab the edge of it. I roll him over and over until there's no tarp left. I grab the flashlight out and run back to the shed.
I search the shelves for something to tie it up with and spot a dusty rope curled up neatly. I take it and run back to the tarp.
I wrap it several times around the excess bit's on both ends, knotting it as tight as I can. Now comes the hard part.
Since Blue's currently only a cat and I can't really go inside to ask my father for help, I'm stuck to somehow lift this man into the wheel barrow by myself.
It's a struggle to even get my hand's underneath it let alone lift it up. But after a couple minute's of wobbling from side to side, I manage to get the body into the wheel barrow.
Blue strut's across the yard and wait's at the edge of the forest.
I take a deep breath, lift up the back of the wheel barrow and begin to push.
It takes me almost double the time to return to the grave. I have to repeatedly maneuver around tree roots and mud puddles, constantly attempting to prevent tipping the wheel barrow. My arms burn and my head is swirls with a headache.
I'm a small town seventeen year old with enough problems already. I shouldn't have to be burying dead bodies in the forest in the middle of the night.
When I reach the side of the grave I toss up ways to get the body into the hole. Should I try lifting it again? Or just roll it in?
I go with the second one.
I slowly tip the wheel barrow until it falls out of my grasp and sends the body rolling out onto the ground.
A muffled thud announces it's arrival at the bottom of the hole.
I wipe away sweat from my brow and snatch the shovel off the ground.
I should be worrying about how I'm going to be spending my six weeks of freedom like every other teenager in this town. But no, some higher up power decided my life was getting too close to something slightly resembling normalcy and thought it'd be fun to send this my way.
"It's a little unfair, don't you think Blue?" I ask, shoving the shovel head into the dirt.
I look down into the dark, finding the shape of the man's body.
This is what's unfair; that a person died, that I felt his blood splatter my face, that I watched him take his last breath. Everything else that has happened to me doesn't matter. This is what truly sucks.
I'm sorry.
I drop the first load of dirt into the grave.