Ember Rising Light (Book One) Read online

  Chapter Seven

  The hallway was overcrowded with teenagers. Staying close to the lockers as I walked to second period, I wanted to avoid being touched by anyone. The warning bell rang and the masses scattered. However, one small group of kids ignored it.

  It is not unusual to see two or three kids ditching class together. This class skipping crowd is nine strong. They are evidently not worried about getting busted either. They weren’t even looking around as they headed back down to the boiler room in the basement.

  Suspense overwhelmed me. I decided to follow them and find out what’s so interesting.

  An unsettling feeling crept through my spirit before I even touched the first step. It feels like impending trouble.

  Still determined to follow them, I tried to ignore the eerie premonition. The shadowy feeling refused to be dismissed. Suddenly, I was chilled to the bone. The icy ravage forced me to stop in my tracks. I had on four warm layers of clothes and a hooded sweatshirt, but layers didn’t help. My new Arctic reality was radiating from inside my spirit.

  This is a golden opportunity. I’m not about to let it pass by.

  “I can and will ignore your tantrum! I’m gonna do what I want…” I thought insanely to my body.

  A hideous wave of sickness overtook me and I doubled over, fighting back the nausea. It finally struck me that my physical reaction must be a warning sign. The unmistakable feeling of doom surrounded me…something bad will happen if I ignore it.

  The compulsion to go down to the basement remained the same. But, I have no way to alleviate it.

  Once I decided to stay away from the basement (and those ditching kids), the nausea vanished. But, the aftertaste of vomit remained – yuck.

  I carry a toothbrush and toothpaste in my backpack. So, I ran to the nearest girl’s room to brush my teeth.

  The teacher hardly glanced at me when I walked into class fifteen minutes late. Although I was determined to focus on the lesson, my wandering mind had other ideas.

  Could my sickness in the hallway be some type of infection from my cuts, instead of a warning?? Horror consumed me as I continued my morbid mental odyssey. My stomach nervously rolled over as I journeyed into the world of limb amputation. Eventually, I would persuade myself that I’m likely making something out of nothing…well almost.

  Tray needed to leave early to look for a job. We headed to the parking lot and he tried to convince me to leave with him. He always gets nervous when he has to leave me alone in public. But, he is especially jumpy today. Half of my lunch period had elapsed before I finally managed to convince him that I will be fine staying.

  The shadows started to gather when I walked back towards the building. Nothing sinister was visible, but I still feel darkness all around. My paranoia is starting to get the better of me…

  Laughing off my impending mental problems, I decided to get to my history class early. My thoughts were occupied when I painfully “stumbled” into the library, face-first-collision style – ouch.

  Might as well check out more than just the heavy wooden door, since I am already here…and I have a few minutes to kill.

  All libraries are appealing to me. People don’t expect conversation. And, the seats are spaced at a comfortable distance apart. That means very little risk of being touched by a stranger.

  The librarian gave me a strange smile as she peered at me. Her perplexed stare lingered perhaps a second more than it should have. Then, it occurred to me why she was subtly gawking. I am the only student in the whole library.

  I found two intriguing books and then, made the mistake of sitting in the chair closest to the large window. It was still warm outside, so it was open. My only intention was to read until the warning bell sounded.

  A gentle breeze rustled the pages, averting my attention. The trees swayed in the wind. My thoughts returned to my free-flight odyssey in the woods. I couldn’t decide whether the fantastic journey was a dream or just a few moments of pure, wonderful madness. Rolling up my sleeves, I traced the scars on my forearms. They are a deep shade of purple.

  My mind wandered while the wind brushed by me. I was mesmerized until I heard the bell ring. Suddenly, I was back to reality. But, as I gathered up my belongings, something felt odd…like the world is out of place.

  I gazed out the window and realized the shadows are all wrong. Had the sun repositioned itself in the few minutes I’ve been daydreaming??

  Seconds later, I found a clock and discovered the problem. It is 3:05…wait…that means the school day is over!

  Somehow, I missed my afternoon classes. Did I just daydream an afternoon away? There is no way I just sat immobile for three hours!

  Where have I been???? It feels like I went…somewhere, but my mind drew a blank.

  Then suddenly, I remembered Tray. I ran down the breezeway, dodging students and almost ran into my brother.

  First, I miss seeing doors and now, I can’t see my gigantic brother???

  “You had me worried, Little Girl. What’s up?” Tray asked me suspiciously as we drove home.

  “I sorta got lost…I didn’t know where I was…” I replied, cryptically.

  My response didn’t actually answer his question. So, he rephrased his inquiry a few more times, but in different ways. I repeated what I had already told him. He eventually dropped the subject. Either, I convinced him that everything’s fine or he realizes I am not ready to discuss it.

  Leaning back, I concentrated hard. My afternoon activities continued to elude me. I remember sitting down to read at lunch and the final bell of the day ringing.

  Although I have lost time to my mental distractions, I have never lost hours to outright amnesia. I must have a case of some type of sudden on-set mental illness. That is the only explanation for my entire-afternoon-fog-out-episode…

  Thankfully, I stopped myself from asking Tray if psychosis runs in our family. A question like that doesn’t exactly lead to a casual, one word answer – especially from my anxious parent/brother.

  “I’ve got a lead on a job. Don’t…” Tray said when he dropped me off, preparing to list the house rules for me.

  “I know all the “don’ts”. I’ll be fine…see ya’ in a bit,” I interrupted him, smiling.

  I spent the remainder of the afternoon locked inside the house, trying to force my memory to cooperate with me. The mental fog refused to lift.

  It must be the clean mountain air, playing a trick on my mind. That was the best, least pathetic, excuse I could come up with.

  That weak internal argument simply wasn’t going to cut it. Clean mountain air does not cause amnesia. In fact, it should do quite the opposite.

  My mind has been turned into Swiss cheese without any type of warning. The more I struggled to remember my afternoon at school, the less I could actually recall. It was an insane phenomenon, but that’s the way it seems to be working out.

  By the time Tray returned, I was no closer to a solution. I had been uselessly obsessing for hours. Waving my hand in the air to dismiss my thoughts, I decided to worry about it later.

  This is becoming a nasty habit – never figuring out anything and saving up my worries. Still, I can’t seem to stop it from happening.

  “Any luck finding a job…” I inquired with interest as I stepped out onto the back porch to see my brother.

  “Yeah, I’m starting tomorrow…” Tray responded with a sheepish grin.

  After he washed up, we sat down to dinner and he told me all about his new job.

  “The name of the business is Sunridge Automotive. I’m gonna write down the phone number to the garage in your backpack, notebook, put it under the magnet on the fridge and put a copy in your bedroom nightstand drawer…” my brother continued to list out all the places I could find it.

  Tray has a phone number ritual that he feels compelled to follow. He is terrified that I will lose his contact information. I will have to purchase a ne
w backpack when we move again because my current one will be out of space, once this number is added.

  “I know…you’ll post the number in every location imaginable. Now, tell me more about your job…” I requested.

  “Rave Jansen is the owner’s name. He’s cool with me working flexible afternoon hours. He didn’t ask for a demonstration of my mechanical skills or for any references, either. I start tomorrow afternoon. Well, that was my decision. He actually said I could begin whenever it was convenient for me. I’ve never had such an accommodating boss. So, it made me kinda suspicious. I’m not used to people being nice, without having some ulterior motive.

  “Oh yeah, the shop’s beside his house. He must have a few hundred acres. His property’s surrounded by the National Forest and I didn’t see any neighbors. He asked me if I minded working alone, occasionally because he wouldn’t always be there to help me. You know my feelings on that subject. This job seems almost too perfect. Sure hope it turns out that way…

  “Rave also said that I could work on our station wagon too. I just have to pay for the parts and work on it during my off time…” Tray stated before he took a breath.

  “It does sound ideal,” I agreed.

  Tray seems genuinely pleased and I was thrilled for him. I have never seen him get this excited over any job.

  My brother has worked on our old car, for as long as I can remember. That’s a tremendous feat too, since it seems to constantly require something new to keep operating. He is a very skilled mechanic. I wonder who taught him about cars…

  He had resumed his story and I didn’t want to interrupt him to ask. So, I did something rare and tabled my curiosity and happily listened.

  Normally, it takes Tray a few days to find a job after we relocate. During that time, I worry. Will he find a position he likes? Will they pay him a fair wage? And, my concerns were compounded when we moved here.

  I truly thought my brother would have trouble getting a job in a small town. I had assumed that people in this area would be wary of strangers and not very willing to hire someone they didn’t know. Tray’s happiness over his new job (and apparently accommodating boss) made me realize that I had misjudged this situation.

  So, not only do I stink at reading people on an individual basis, I also stink at reading entire communities, too. Oh well, at least I recognize my flaw.

  After dinner Tray went into the living room and leaned back in the recliner to relax. I cleared the table and washed the dishes. This is our normal evening routine. It won’t likely change anytime soon, either.

  I will turn sixteen on February 15th. I had single-handedly decided I could get a job, then and assist Tray with the bills. We were still living in Chicago when I made that ‘I’m getting a job to help you financially’ announcement to him.

  He didn’t even pause when he replied, “…that’s not gonna happen”. He didn’t provide me with any accompanying explanation. I pestered Tray relentlessly until he finally gave in.

  “You know I hate cleaning…cooking…laundry…” he had offered in frustration.

  “But, I can work and do household junk too. I’m capable…” I had tried to persuade him, but he put his finger to my lips to silence me.

  “Listen up, Little Girl, you keep our home running and you’re gonna let me take care of our finances. Think of it as a gypsy-thing if you want to…but, that’s the way it’s gonna be…”

  The debate was over. Nothing I could have said that day would have changed his mind.

  I never thought I would be happy, being on the losing end of an argument. My latest adventures into the ‘psychotic-world-of-Ember-insanity’ made me appreciate my defeat. Given my current, random amnesia-disease, I would have likely been fired the first day anyway.

  I’m terrified that I’m losing my mind…

  My thoughts next wandered to how I might explain my ‘no show’ to my afternoon teachers, tomorrow. I worried about what excuse I could offer them all night long.

  As it happens, I had worried myself sleepless, for no apparent reason. My teachers didn’t even mention it.

  I intentionally avoided the library for the remainder of the week, although I really needed to research mental illnesses. Nothing like a little self-diagnosis to put a girl’s mind at ease…

  My self-imposed library restriction placed a severe limitation on my entertainment choices. In an effort to remain trouble-free until I lifted my ban, I had to work on a creative solution. I discovered a sneaky way to bring my portable disc player to school.

  I cut a hole inside the kangaroo pocket of a hooded sweatshirt. That’s where I would hide the device. The cord for my ear buds would be hidden underneath the sweatshirt. The actual ear buds could be tucked inside the hood when not in use.

  My hood has to remain up if I am listening to music, but that is the only drawback to the plan. I received some bizarre looks the first time I used my stealthy technique. Most people don’t wear hoods inside a heated building, after all. And, it isn’t much of a fashion statement. But, I’m not out to impress anyone. So, as usual, I would choose function over fashion.

  The following day, Tray rushed into the cafeteria after I arrived.

  “Hey…” he said, breathlessly.

  “Did you run all the way here?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I almost forgot about the big Mustang job that I’ve gotta get finished,” Tray informed me.

  Next, he detailed all the mechanical work he still needs to get accomplished. I suppose I should have understood some of what he was saying. I have been around him and his mechanic-speak my whole life. Sadly though, he could have been quacking and it would have made more sense. He knows I don’t understand him, but he still feels compelled to share it.

  “The lady’s coming to pick it up today right after she gets off work. I just signed out in the office, that’s where I ran from. I’m headed to Sunridge. Hopefully, I can get the job finished early. I’ll do my best to get back here to pick you up on time. Will you be okay?” Tray asked with concern.

  “Stop worrying. I’ll just go to the library and read if you’re not here by 3:15. I usually sit near the back somewhere, but not anywhere near the windows. I’ll stay outta trouble, promise….” I said with a smile.

  “Sweet! I’ll shoot for three. You’ve got my number if you need me. I’m gonna hold you to that promise. Please, be careful and pay attention to where you’re going. Love you, Little Girl…see ya’ later…”

  He swiped my carton of milk and rubbed my head, playfully with the other hand. I ducked, trying to avoid this occurrence. It was a useless attempt because he is so much faster than me. I hate having my head rubbed like a puppy and he knows that.

  Tray waved over his shoulder as he walked away. I didn’t have to see his face to know that he was laughing. At least, I had my hood up when he decided to pet me. I started snickering too as I resigned myself to the inevitable. He is so annoyingly funny sometimes.

  I didn’t have a reason to stay in the noisy cafeteria. So I pulled up my hood and slipped in one ear bud. The library was currently off limits, but the rest of the campus was just waiting to be explored.

  Already lost inside my own world of thoughts, I was only a few feet from the door when I heard a loud crash. Everyone in the cafeteria burst out laughing. The echo was unbearably loud. I couldn’t even hear my music over it.

  I quickly discovered what was so hilarious. The source of the day’s comedy-fest was a boy covered in spaghetti sauce. It turned out to be a lunchtime joke at the expense of another human being and something I never find funny.

  The sauce covered boy wasn’t the only recipient of this bad joke either. A girl wearing a bright pink shirt had the misfortune of walking in the same vicinity. The boy’s plate had somehow managed to land upside down on her head. She had spaghetti noodles dangling from her hair.

  Then, to add insult to injury, both the guy and the girl bent ov
er at the same time to retrieve their belongings. They ceremoniously bumped their heads together and I flinched for them. This sent another inappropriate wave of hilarity throughout the crowd.

  Why are kids so cruel and act so ridiculously stupid?

  I wish that I could say that this cafeteria-spaghetti-prank was an isolated incident or that the kids who perpetrated it are some new kind of degenerates. Sadly though, I had experienced similar lunchroom scenes at practically every school I had ever attended. It was always the same kind of kids that perpetrated this type of stunt – popular and/or entitled. I didn’t even have to see the ‘cafeteria delinquents’ to know exactly what they looked like.

  As always, it was the same type of kids who get cast to play the victims of the prank. I noticed that the sauce coated guy was wearing a dress shirt with a pocket and a pair of pleated dress pants. He looks more like a ‘wanna-be’ college professor than a high school student – a nerd.

  Maybe he is competing in a formal debate, today??

  I sincerely hope those clothes are not his usual daily attire. If it is his normal outfit, this will definitely not be the last prank he will experience.

  The noodle covered girl was dressed in a sloppy, oversized t-shirt and ill-fitting jeans. It looked like she had not brushed her hair since school started either. The strands of noodles were tangled in her tangles. The chosen victims were certainly easy targets for the cafeteria delinquents.

  The lunchroom door opened behind me. The students who were just entering stared in wide eyed fascination at the scene they had just walked in on. They promptly joined in the laughter.

  Humiliating another human being is never funny, but most of the kids who are laughing in the lunchroom don’t find any real comedy in this scene. They are only doing it because they don’t want the pack to turn on them next. So, they are basically obligated to join in. As strange as that might be, this is school days cafeteria crowd survival – like it or not. No one wants to be the next target.

  That’s what I was thinking when something amazing dawned on me. I have managed to somehow avoid the usual new-freshman-kid trauma at this school…well, so far I have. That’s only a matter of time. I sincerely hope my own new freshman kid on campus prank will not involve tomato sauce. The clothes will have to be trashed. The sauce could stain my skin or my hair. I swiftly added ‘anything with marinara or barbeque sauce’ to my “Foods to Avoid at School” list, just in case.

  Ridiculous, juvenile pranks like this one occur on a weekly basis. I’ve seen this stupidity so many times before I thought I had become immune to them. I didn’t believe it would even register on my, potentially ticked off, scale. That assumption I made about myself ended up being just plain wrong.

  The crowd shifted and it was just as I suspected. Seven good looking, seemingly popular guys were all laughing and punching each other in the arm. They appeared to be upperclassmen. The two victims were still scrounging around on the ground, trying to collect their personal items from the mess.

  I took a closer look at the perpetrators because something about them seemed unusual. Then, it finally hit me. They were all wearing various shades of black clothes.

  “That’s actually appropriate – your clothes match your dark hearts…” I thought to myself.

  As new spectators joined in the hilarity, I saw a group of girls standing in a tight circle behind the black hearted boys. They had to be part of the same group because they were red-faced from giggling. The girls looked at them approvingly – like this scene was orchestrated for their personal entertainment.

  By the time the cafeteria staff pushed their way through the crowd, the dark hearted guys were seated at their tables, looking innocent. No more high-fives or congratulatory punches, they were suddenly the picture of cool disinterest. The females continued to snicker and point. Their behavior set me off into a whole new level of anger.

  The chilly wind swept across the lunchroom from outside. Strangely, this added fuel to the building rage inside of me. My music vibrated through my body and reacted to my rising fury. My blood boiled and thundered through my veins.

  My internal temperature soared as I realized that the guys were going to get away with their horrible offense without any repercussions. Hotter and hotter – my rage assaulted me and colored my vision a hazy shade of crimson. A red-hot energy radiated from my body.

  I had turned into an ‘Ember-volcano’ from the resulting wrath. The pounding in my head was excruciating. My blood pressure was near the critical level. Breathing in shallow heated pants, I knew I was going to internally erupt at any second!

  Then, inexplicably my vision returned to normal and my body temperature plunged back down to normal. These things happened, fast and without any warning. The red-hot energy field that had surrounded me simply disappeared…

  Stunned and immobile, my skin shimmered from sweat. I was shivering…now…a dormant volcano.

  I am not entirely sure what cosmic source intervened to stabilize me. But, I was certainly thankful for its assistance. Otherwise, I would have erupted like an active volcano. If that had happened, everyone in the lunchroom would have witnessed the explosion. Then, they would have had a brand new scene to stare and point at.

  Yanking my hood over most of my face so I couldn’t see anything else, I blindly ran outside. My planned campus wandering adventure was obviously cancelled. I tried to sort through the madness and figure out what happened as my body temperature continued to fluctuate. It would swing insanely between fiery hot and frigid cold. The best I could figure is that I almost had a full blown psychotic episode in a very crowded cafeteria!

  Wait…what happens if someone tries to pull a prank on me, right now…the explosion of the century!

  I frantically rushed to the closest bathroom, in order to separate myself from the masses. Other girls were using the facilities, so I hid out in a stall. I slipped my hood off while I waited and that’s when I felt something…odd. The skin on my face feels superheated and I reflexively jerked my hand away.

  I almost started laughing…talk about an overreaction! My imagination is clearly taking over my common sense…or, is it??

  My face didn’t feel like it had been injured. I wasn’t in any type of pain. Still, I was too scared to touch it, again – no matter how ridiculous the fear was. In fact, my heart was threatening to pound out of my chest as I anxiously waited.

  The other girls finally exited. Building up my courage, I tentatively walked over to the mirror. I braced myself and looked at my reflection. Then, I gasped in shock.

  My face appeared to be sunburnt – courtesy of my crazy volcanic episode. It wasn’t just in my mind…