rough copy.
An intense death metal song filled the ordinary white room. It was seven thirty on a glum Tuesday morning. The alarm clock was set to 'random'. The song playing had been selected from the shuffled songs on the mp3 player set beside it. At that moment, it was obvious that this day would be no different from the dull day preceding it. Typical, because of course nothing exciting occurred in the life of Pacey Cole.
The drummer of the band began a solo excessively loud and extreme. It wasn't until after the song was over and the drummer was still playing that Pacey jerked awake. The soloist, also known as Pacey's sister, Brooke, continued banging on the wall only inches from Pacey's head.
"Turn that emo garbage off already!" Brooke screamed through the drywall and thick layers of cheap Behr paint. "You are going to make me late again!" By that point Pacey had drifted back to sleep. She slept with headphones on with her favorite CD playing repeatedly. The sound of her vexatious sister banging on the wall had actually helped her fall deeper into her sleep.
When Brooke heard a faint snore from the other side of her wall, she grabbed a CD and exited her room. Brooke clomped down the short narrow hallway. After only two and a half seconds of stomping down the hallway, she reached her sister's door. The ordinary white door matched all the others in the small townhouse. The only way that a stranger would know that a human inhabited the room behind the door, were the fingerprints circling around the handle.
Knowing that once her mother heard about Pacey's rude awakening she would ask if Brooke had knocked, she rapped on the door with all her strength. After four raps on the door, she twisted the dirty handle and braced herself for an even dirtier sight.
Just as Brooke had predicted, the room was a colossal disaster. Ignoring the numerous piles of clothing on the floor, Brooke stepped over to where her sister was sleeping peacefully. Knowing there would be hell to pay if she awoke her sister; Brooke turned off the death metal, and placed her own CD into the Walkman attached to Pacey's headphones. After choosing her personal favorite song from the seventeen tracks on the disc, Brooke touched her perfectly manicured nail against the play button.
In seconds the Pop song was filling Pacey's head. She was jerked awake for the second time that morning. As the cheerful tones got louder in the headphones, Pacey ripped the plug out of the Walkman and threw the detached disc player at her sister. Before the player met with Brookes skin, she turned around and covered her face. With a satisfying "smash" the player broke into three large pieces after colliding with Brooke's shoulder blade.
Brooke shrieked and Pacey put her hands to her mouth. She inhaled slowly, then reached out a hand and placed it on her sister's unharmed shoulder.
"Brooke, are... are you okay?" Pacey hesitated before taking a soft step toward her sister. This wasn't the first time that she harmed her sister like this. Her mind filled with thoughts of regret but only for a second. "Brooke I'm sorry, okay?"
Pacey put two fingers under her sister's chin, and lifted carefully so they could meet eye-to-eye. The second Pacey peered into her sister's hurt eyes but she didn't feel tears well up in her own. Knowing it was physically impossible for her to actually shed a tear; Pacey dropped her sister's chin and walked to the doorway.
"Just get out, okay?" Pacey stared at the ground, avoiding Brooke's pained eyes. Brooke stabilized herself and choked back her tears. She knew what her little sister was thinking; their Mom would possibly kill Pacey if she came home that night and found out what happened.
"Don't worry, I'll just tell mom I don't feel well and am staying home from school. If she asks about my shoulder, I'll tell her I tripped on the stairs," and with that final statement, Brooke left the cluttered room and headed to the bathroom. The bathroom was always where she went to cry. She turned the faucet on high and sobbed.
Feeling miserable about her temper issues, Pacey sat back down on her bed. She peered around at the infinite piles of clothing on the white carpet. After choosing a heap out of random, she scooted off the soft mattress and onto the floor. From there, she crawled over to the pile she chose, and began to search through it. She removed all the clothes she didn't want to wear from the pile by tossing them over her shoulder. As the pile in front of Pacey grew smaller, the ones behind her grew taller.
Near the bottom of the clothing heap Pacey found a black tee shirt with three holes. From the pile beside her, she pulled a pair of ripped jeans and a white tank top to wear underneath the ripped tee. Pacey walked over to the door and shut it softly so not to disturb her bawling sister. Quickly she shed her dad's old Kiss tee shirt and her Old Navy boxers.
As she pulled on the tank and black tee, she glanced at herself in the mirror above her armoire. It was easy to see how tired she was. After pulling on her ripped jeans, she scratched her eyes and headed out of the ordinary room. From the hallway she went to the bathroom. Just seconds before she knocked she thought about her sister in there leaning against the sink crying her eyes dry.
She retreated from the bathroom door, and walked down the townhouse's creaky stairs to the bathroom by the kitchen. Only a foot away from the other bathroom's door did she realize she had forgotten an important factor in doing makeup; her makeup bag. Silently cursing to herself, she shuffled back up the stairs to retrieve the bag from her room. When she turned to face her bedroom door, she saw that the door was cracked open. Brooke, she thought to herself.
Quietly she pushed her hand against the door opening it fully. Surely enough, Brooke was bent over on the floor to pick up one of the destroyed pieces of the walkman. Suddenly, Brooke burst into sobs again so Pacey walked over to her and whispered her name. "Brooke, what are you-"
Obviously Pacey had frightened Brooke by speaking when she thought she was alone in the room. When Brooke returned to full height, Pacey saw that she was receiving her CD from the smashed device. The disc filled with the kind of music that Pacey despised was split into two pieces, one slightly bigger than the other.
"I said I was sorry, okay? Want more do you want from me, blood?" Pacey shouted at her sister. Brooke's eyes were blotchy, and her lip was quivering. She took two steps, but not in the direction of the door. "What the hell are you doing?"
Brooke was biting her lip as she looked up at Pacey. So hard that a drop of blood trickled from where the incisor pierced the flesh. After slowly licking the blood from her lip she said, "I wanted to see if my disc survived the crash, but I guess not." The blinding sun reflected off the disc as Brooke lifted it to show Pacey the damage. A pink and white striped sleeve wiped across her nose as she sniffed. She stood up straight and made her way to the door. Once again she glanced at the fingerprints surrounding the doorknob, thought nothing of it, then stepped into the narrow hall.
Chapter Two
Pacey parked in the farthest parking lot from the high school she attended. After she checked the clock on the dashboard, she reached into the back of the jeep to grab her bag. As she lifted it from under the seat, the zipper caught on the buckle and sent all of her papers to the floor. "Shit," Pacey cursed quietly to herself and tugged harder on the bag to release it from the buckle. The cheap fabric of the worn bag loudly ripped. Now there was a four inch long cut across the bottom of the bag. Pacey screamed in frustration and forcefully threw the bag on the passenger seat. Slamming her fists on the steering wheel, she began screaming curse words.
As her freak out continued, a few teenagers pulled up beside her in a red convertible. They were all smiling until they heard the screaming coming from the jeep. Two blonde girls in short denim skirts, as short as the dress code would allow, pressed their faces to the tinted black window. Their boyfriends moved from the other side of their car to glance at Pacey. The peering teenagers had no idea who the maniac in the jeep was. Pacey Cole was one of the most ignored students at their high school.
When finally Pacey noticed that people were watching her as if she was part of the top celebrity scandal on the VH1, she began to calm. Her heart was still pounding two times faster than usual, but she pressed her chapped lips together to look as if she was back to normal. But Pacey's normal state was no where near the usual level of normalcy. Whatever the situation, even if she was just lying in bed closing her eyes forcing sleep upon herself, she was never completely calm and serene.
After searching the car for all her papers, Pacey shoved them back into the ripped bag. To insure that the pages of homework and notes wouldn't fall out again, she had to hold her bag tightly against her chest as she walked up the cement stairs to the school. She was assuming the nerd position and receiving stranger looks than normal while entering the school.
Getting more and more frustrated from all the kids that began whispering as she passed them, she stomped straight to her locker where she removed the papers from her bag and set them on a shelf. From the small pocket in the front of the backpack, Pacey retrieved a small plastic baggy. She turned her head left to right to check to see if any teachers were watching. The bag was immediately shoved into her back jeans pocket and she slammed the locker shut.
The hallway was getting more and more crowded as more kids were arriving at school. Few teenagers took the bus to school, so the hallway to the back door near the bus drop off was almost empty. Pacey decided that would be the quickest route although the other directions were quicker in distance. It was easier to slip through the ten kids coming through that entrance than the sixty kids coming from the others. Once Pacey reached the door, she wrapped her long fingers around the handle, and pulled towards herself.
The wind had gained speed since she had left her jeep only fifteen minutes earlier. Pacey took her regular spot near the dumpster and leaned her back against it. Slowly she slid down until she sat cross legged on the asphalt. The baggy was taken from her back pocket, and the freshly rolled joint was taken from it. A joint of marijuana was just the thing to settle Pacey, after a long morning and before an even longer day of school. Pacey was happy that she could finally get her weekly needed drug intake, until she realized she had left her lighter at home. Luckily, she spotted another kid around the corner of the dumpster taking a drag.
"Hey, got a lighter?" Pacey asked coolly. The boy was probably her age, or older. She had never seen him before, but he looked like someone she could stand talking to. He reached into his navy blue backpack sitting at his side and searched until he came up with a camouflage lighter.
"Here," he tossed the lighter gently to Pacey, and zipped up the bag. "My name's Mike. What's yours?" He gave her this small smile and extended his hand to her. Weak, Pacey thought to herself. This is probably his first time ever smoking anything. Pacey looked him over. He was great looking on her scale. His blonde hair was long enough that the ends curled every which way. One stray lock was positioned in front of one of his clear gray eyes, and Pacey was tempted to reach across and brush it away.
It was strange because Pacey hadn't looked at a guy this closely in almost a year. Since her last relationship ended in a literal car crash, she hadn't thought about going out with anyone else.
"Okay then, never mind," Mike replaced his hand on the ground beside him and looked forward. Pacey followed his eyes to the line of oak trees on the other side of the south parking lot.
"No, um, wait. Sorry, what did you say?" For the first time in a long time, Pacey was nervous about how she sounded. She was acting as if it was her first time talking to a guy. Of course, it wasn't. Pacey had spent many hours of her previous school years watching movies with guys her age and older.
"Oh, sorry I thought you were just ignoring me by the way you were staring. I said 'My name's Mike. What's yours?'" He blinked three times really quickly. Was he nervous? Surely it couldn't have been his first time talking to a girl? He was gorgeous; just about every preppy girl would be after him. Even Pacey thought he was incredible looking, and since the accident a year ago she hadn't even thought about communicating with a guy she didn't already know and trust; which left her with only three. And two of which were dead.
Pacey snapped back to reality when she saw Mike with his head cocked, staring back at her. He looked like he was trying to see into her, by using her eyes as a passageway. Instantly, Pacey could tell they would get along. She didn't know how, or why she felt this way, she just did. So she opened her mouth, and told him her name. "Pacey. My name's Pacey."
"Pacey," he said, and stroked his stubble-free chin with his thumb and index finger. He wasn't very good at looking serious, and couldn't help but laugh. Pacey glanced at him, and also felt the sudden urge to laugh. But she resisted the urge, so she wouldn't seem like a ditz in front of Mike. "That is such an original name." Pacey held her breathe. "I like it," he said with a smile on his lips. Pacey finally exhaled as he added "a lot, actually."
Knowing that her name was liked by Mike made Pacey grin. It had felt as if her world would come crashing down if he didn't like her name. She would have been deeply disappointed to find he hated it, but to know that he really did like it, made her so happy. "I, I like it, too. I guess." She felt stupid for talking like a moron with the vocabulary of a teletubby. "I mean, uh," she said, thinking why can't I say anything normal? She thought of something to say, but felt it wouldn't be okay to say at first meeting. So why not arrange a second meeting? It was perfect; Pacey could ask him to get lunch with her or something. At the school they could leave between twelve o'clock and one o'clock to get food off campus.
As Pacey was gaining enough courage to invite him out for the lunch period, the bell rang behind them. The sound echoed from the loudspeakers scattered randomly on the ceilings of the school. Mike threw his cigarette across the street, and reached for his bag. Getting to his feet, he offered Pacey a hand. She took it nervously and allowed him to pull her up. With her free hand, she brushed off her jeans. When he felt she was steady, he let go over her hand and it fell to her side. She bent over to get her own bag and lifted her joint to her lips for a final drag. "Cheers to overly peppy girls and egotistic jocks," she said lazily as she exhaled the smoke. "May they all die tragically in the back seats of their expensive cars." Mike let out a laugh and smiled showing her all his teeth that were edged with the lightest shade of yellow. Turning back to the dumpster she had been leaning against, she stood on the tips of her low tops and tossed the reduced joint inside to join the dozens of cigarette butts and black trash bags.
"You are a very funny person, Miss...?"
"Cole. Pacey Cole."
"Miss Cole. I like it. May I escort you to first period?" He reached for her hand and brought it to his light pink lips. He placed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, and bowed before her. Pacey was smiling maybe more than she should have. Together they entered the building. An hour ago they were total strangers, but now her feeling of closeness to Mike was more intense. They would be seeing a lot of each other, she could tell.
Chapter Three
"Ms. Cole?" Mrs. Paschal should have been used to Pacey falling asleep during her eighth period geometry class. She shuffled over to Pacey's desk in her flat granny-shoes. The ruler she had been using as a pointer for the overhead was hanging lifelessly by her side. "For goodness sake, Ms. Cole!" She slapped the ruler on the desk with all her strength, which didn't add up to much.
Pacey jerked awake. Would she ever be able to sleep in peace? It was apparent the answer she was looking for was 'no', when Mrs. Paschal barked at her until someone else answered her question. "The Pythagorean Theorem stated that the length of the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the other two lengths."
Instantly Pacey was irritated with the person who got the correct answer. Pacey raised her hand and Mrs. Paschal gave her an annoyed look, "What do you want, Pacey?"
"Well, Mrs. Paschal, I have a question. Am I not allowed to ask a simple question about the discussion taking place in class? Isn't this a school? Or is it just a dungeon of torture? Actually I think it is both but-"
"Ms. Cole! What is your question?!"
"Well I was just wondering 'when are we ever going to have to use this in the real world'? But it would be a dumb question to ask a teacher, especially you."
"Why is that, Ms. Cole?"
"First of all, stop calling me 'Ms. Cole', you freakish woman. It would be dumb to ask a teacher especially you because there is no chance that you know anything about the real world given your lack of any style in clothing, shoes, cosmetics, and just about everything else. What I'm really curious about, Mrs. Paschal, is how does an irritating old woman like you get a job as a teacher? It might be just my opinion but you are no way a good teacher. Not the way you teach, or the fact that you frighten children innocently walking passed you and, heck, you even frighten me a little bit-"
"Office, now!" Mrs. Paschal screamed. She was getting red in the face from anger. She stomped up to her desk on the opposite side of the room and opened the top left drawer. As she did this Pacey stood up and walked over to the door covered in posters encouraging students to 'stay in school'. Why the hell should we? She thought to herself. She crossed her arms and yawned as if she hadn't gotten enough sleep during class. Out of the drawer, Mrs. Paschal pulled out a pad of hall passes.
After filling out the pass as quickly as she could in way less than neat penmanship, she handed it to Pacey. Pacey grabbed it and leaned close to her teacher's scrawny face. "Buh-bye now, Ms. Paschal." She waved her hand dramatically in her face, then turned and walked out the door.
As she made her way to the office in the center of the school, Pacey spotted her new friend Mike searching through his locker. She looked down at herself to check to make sure she didn't have any dirt on her shirt. After tucking her side swept bangs behind her ear, she made her way towards Mike.
He must have heard her coming, because he looked up like he had been caught in the act of doing something very wrong. "Hey there, Pace." They had only met hours before, but he automatically gave her a nick name. It was the only nick name that she could stand being called and it even lifted her spirits a bit when she heard it spoken by him.
"Hi. What are you digging for?" She glanced from his locker to his face, and smiled calmly. He returned the smile and pulled out a thick literature book. Pacey said, "Ouch, honors English? Now I'm glad I was high for the final exam last year."
"Ha-ha, very funny Ms. Cole."
"Oh god Mike, don't call me that. Actually that's why I came to see you. Well no, that's a lie. I just kind of saw you standing here and decided to stop by. I'm on my way to the office. Would you care to walk me there?"
"Oh boy, I wish I could, but I have an early dismissal."
Pacey's heart sank, "Oh, okay then. Well I guess I'll just go-"
"Shesh Pace, I'm kidding. I was going to (Mike put up two fingers from each hand and made air quotes) 'go to the bathroom' and head out to the back for a smoke."
Excited that he wasn't actually leaving without her, Pacey nodded more than was really necessary. "Screw high school. Screw Mrs. Paschal. Screw going to the office. Let's hit the dumpster. Wait that wasn't what I meant-"
Mike laughed, "Wow, they really need to change the batteries in the carbon monoxide detectors."
Pacey playfully punched him in the arm, inches above his elbow. "Screw you, too. Come on, let's go." Pacey started to walk towards the south entrance of the school when she felt long fingers strongly gripping her wrist. She winced at the pain and turned around sharply. As she turned Mike stepped forward and they bumped heads. Mike simply said "ouch" while Pacey took the cursing approach of expressing her pain.
"Sorry, Queen Pacey," (another one of Mike's nick names for her) he said in an urgent tone. "I, just, don't you have to go to the office?"
"Yeah, I'm supposed to but seriously, kid, live on the edge a little bit. Crap, your grip is like, to put it in lamest terms, dude, you're strong." Pacey laughed at the blank expression on Mike's face. "I don't feel like going to the stupid office, I mean it would be the same old routine. Go in, sit down, and get detention. Tahdah! It's as amazing as when a little kid rides down on his bike screaming 'look mom, no arms!'."
"Don't make fun of me, Pacey. Gosh!" Jokingly, Mike put his palm up as in 'talk to the hand' and then put his other hand on his hip. "Speaking of kids, I am older than you, so technically you're the kiddo." He stuck out his tongue as a sign of victory. She laughed at his stupidity, wondering how old he really was, then ran to catch up with him, shredding her hall pass in the process. Assuming her kid position, she tossed the pieces in the air and twirled in a circle as they fell like snow down around her.
***
Once they got out the back doors by the rusty old dumpster, the cold wind hit them like freezing bullets. It was still February, and the weather wouldn't be getting any warmer until at least April. But once it got to be April, there would be rain pouring from the clouds almost every day. But for now, the temperature was a goose bump inducing thirteen degrees Fahrenheit. Pacey had forgotten to stop by her locker after she had seen Mike in the hallway. Unless she wanted to run back to her locker, and risk getting caught, she was stuck in the cold in only a short sleeve shirt and jeans.
Mike, on the other hand, was wearing a cheap gray suit jacket with patches surrounding the pocket. Beneath his jacket he wore a sweatshirt with the hood overlapping the suit jacket. Clearly, the harsh winds weren't affecting him at all. He stood with his hands shoved in his pockets staring at his low tops. The white strip along the top had been written on over the past months, and now all the colors blended, creating what looked like tie-dye.
Pacey moved her hands up and down her arms quickly to create friction. The movement only made her a few degrees warmer. When Mike looked over at her and saw her teeth chattering, her lips turning an even more pale color than usual, he smiled his average smile. Pacey glanced at him from behind her bangs and said, "Dude, what? It's freezing out here."
"You're telling me that Queen Pacey can't stand a little bad weather? Come on, Pace, that's totally lame," he then jumped off the curb and ran to the middle of the street. There, he spun in a complete circle screaming, "I love the cold! It's the best time to run a mile. Speaking of running..." He took of down the street and didn't look back until he had reached another entrance to the school.
"Mike, you idiot, come back! Oh my god, what are you doing? Come back!" Pacey was still shivering, and had begun to lose the feeling in her fingertips. Suddenly she began coughing, and not the kind of soft cough that a proper lady emits. She keeled over a little bit then quickly made for the dumpster. Reaching it just in time, she got on the tips of her toes, and hurled on one of the trash bags. She crossed her arms with the edge of the dumpster between her chest and her arms. Slowly she took three deep breaths, and heard running footsteps behind her.
"Jesus, Pace. What the hell happened?" Mike was ridiculously close behind her.
"My... My head hurts... is all," Pacey said as Mike reached and put a hand on her forehead.
"You don't have a fever, are you sure you're okay?"
"I told you, I'm fine. Just give me some space," she spoke with a prissy tone.
"Fine, sorry."
He decided to give her some space in case she turned around quickly, so he stepped back six inches. His left foot, then his right, reached the destination in perfect timing: Pacey's knees buckled from under her. She fell back, and automatically Mike moved under her and caught her before she crashed on the hard pavement. The catch was like that in a trust exercise where one person falls and the other catches them.
Slowly, Mike shifted his feet from their awkward position. Removing his left arm from Pacey's back, he rotated her enough so that his right arm went across the center of her back. Gently, he tilted her head so it lay nicely on his shoulder. Then he placed his left arm under her knees. He lifted her slowly off the ground and began walking towards his car, being extra careful so he wouldn't trip on the curb, sending them both down painfully.
Chapter Four
After five minutes of walking around the entire school, Mike, with Pacey still in his arms, finally arrived beside his car. After awkwardly removing his keys from his back pocket, he slid them into passenger seat lock and turned his wrist counterclockwise. He struggled to open the door, then imperceptibly slid Pacey onto the seat. Minding her limp body, he reached across her lap and found a toggle. The seat reclined when he pushed the toggle to the left. Once Pacey was lying on an approximate one hundred fifty degree angle, Mike removed his arm from near her lap.
After placing Pacey's feet on the dashboard in front of her, Mike closed the passenger door quietly and made his way to the other side of the car. He opened the door and sat in the driver's seat. Knowing that he had a school directory somewhere in the mess surrounding his feet, he began to search. Finished digging through the pile by his own feet, he glanced at the heap of papers on the floor below Pacey's legs. Visually rummaging through the dozens of papers, he noticed a sea green packet which he knew was the directory.
He checked to make sure Pacey was looking okay, then bent over to snatch up the packet. On his way back up he heard a cough, jerked his head up quickly, and smashed into Pacey's legs. "Crap!" he whispered, in case Pacey was still out. When he saw she was still quiet, he turned to look out his window to find the coughing person. At his surprise, and misfortune, he saw the principal, with his arms crossed across his suit covered chest.
"Mr. Callaway, is there any specific reason why you've skipped most of eighth period to hang out in your car?" He had a short beard that he believed made him look like a professional educator. As he stood there on the asphalt, preparing to interrogate Mike painfully, he put on a serious look that could only be described as frightening beyond belief.
"Well, um. You see, Mr. Stetson, I was at my locker to get my um," Mike lifted up the packet in his hand, "directory. As I was standing there searching I heard a noise coming from outside. So, being the concerned gentleman I am, I ran as fast as I could out the doors."
"Get to the point, Michael," Mr. Stetson said, voice drowning in boredom.
"Sir, yes, Sir. I'm getting there. And please, Sir, call me Mike-"
"I will call you Michael, and you get to the point of your story immediately!" Mr. Stetson shouted. Obviously annoyed at Mike's dumb humor, his cheeks began to redden. He took three slow breathes and when he opened his mouth to tell Mike to continue with his story Pacey wiggled in her seat. Mr. Stetson hadn't noticed anyone sitting beside Mike, and automatically bent down and peered through the window.
Pacey propped herself up on her elbows and looked around through squinted eyes. She saw Mike and smiled, but she cursed in her head when she looked through the window frame and saw the principal of her school staring at her amazed.
"Ms. Cole! I was supposed to meet you earlier in my office for talking rudely to Mrs. Paschal. For the fourth time this year..."
"Sorry to interrupt your rant, sir. But what the heck happened? Mike, why am I in here? And why does my head hurt really really badly?" Pacey was extremely confused. Dozens of thoughts were running through her pounding head.
Mike looked at her and smiled, then quickly turned back to face the principal, who too was curious of why they were in the car. "You see, what happened was... Oh yes. Well I ran out to see what the noise was and I saw Pacey leaning over the dumpster throwing up. So I went to go get the nurse, but right then I noticed she was about to faint. So I sprinted behind her and caught her before she hit the ground. It's freezing, and I didn't want to leave her out here while I looked for the nurse's office. So I picked her up and carried her here."
"And what were you planning to do after you got her in the car, Mr. Callaway?" Mr. Stetson seemed to be sucking in the story. For some odd reason he especially believed the parts that were lies.
Mike hadn't thought about what he was going to say. So he bought a minute of stall time by saying, "Excuse me a moment, I would just like to check Ms. Cole's temperature." Once again he put his palm to her forehead, and she looked at him through glossy green eyes. Her head still felt a bit warmer than usual, but better than before. He hadn't thought of everything he was going to say to Mr. Stetson, so he leaned over to Pacey, "Do you fell alright? Are you dizzy, does your head still hurt?"
"I'm fine. Really, trust me." She smiled weakly at him then laid her head back against the seat. Mr. Stetson began tapping his foot.
"I'm waiting for you to continue your explanation, Michael. Or should I just suspend you and we'll call it a day?"
"That won't be necessary, sir. Where was I? Oh yeah, so I brought her to the car and put on the heat because she looked really pale and her arms were freezing cold. So I was planning on driving over to the front doors to try and find the nurse's office but then I remembered that the gate to the front entrance is closed during school hours. Then I remembered I had a school directory in here and was going to call the school and have someone run over to help out with Pacey. Please sir, that's all that happened."
"Pacey," Mr. Stetson walked over to her side of the car and leaned over, "roll down the window, please." She searched on the door for the toggle to open the window, but when she jerked herself forward to click it, she felt suddenly light headed and fell back to the reclined chair's head rest. Mike leaned across her and pushed the toggle away from him to lower the glass.
"Pacey, can you try to answer a few questions for me?" He looked concerned, like he actually cared for one of his students. Which everyone who attended the school would know was a lie.
"Shoot," she murmured quietly. Mr. Stetson kneeled on his expensive fabric covered knee to be able to hear Pacey better.
"What is your full name? Can you tell me that?"
"Pacey Lynn Cole..."
"Good," Mr. Stetson had a broad smile.
"Sir," Mike began in a voice that reminded Pacey of the suck-up kid in her geometry class. "I think that we'll be okay to go back to class now. So-"
"Ha-Ha! You don't think you are getting off the hook for skipping half of eighth period, now do you? Oh no, you are seriously mistaken, Mr. Callaway. I want both of you to report directly to the Office so Ms. Ostrander can fill out green slips for both of you." Green slips were the slips of paper that you got when you were suspended. You had to give one of the slips to each of your teachers for the days that you would be gone. Then they would give you a matching green folder of work that you would have to complete either at home or during In School Suspension (ISS).
"Uh, I have one question for you, Mr. Stetson." Mike was utterly confused. His head was cocked to one side, and one of his eyebrows rose high above the other.
"What is it, Michael?" Apparently the humor in Mike thinking that he was free to go had worn off. He had re-crossed his arms and was glaring down at Mike through slit eyes.
"Well, sir. I was just wondering, what is a green slip? I've only been at this school for two months and have never gotten in trouble due to my straight A's and disaster-free permanent record." Pacey hadn't known that Mike was new to the school. She just thought that he had classes on the opposite side of the school making it so they never crossed paths. She realized then that she still didn't know what grade he was in. It bothered her that she didn't know that much about him, and they had been hanging out during lunch for at least two weeks now.
"Well, Ms. Cole would you like to do the honors of telling Michael about the fun of green slips?" Mr. Stetson was enjoyed watching the smile on Mike's face fade away as he learned that he had just received his first ever suspension.
"For how long?!" Mike was furious, and was totally sure that his father would have the same reaction.
"Three days of ISS should teach you never to leave class for any reason besides using the lavatory or visiting your hallway locker. Now, get on up to the office, kids."
Mike opened his door and stood straight up with perfect posture directly in front of Mr. Stetson. He lifted two fingers to his forehead and saluted the principal while saying loudly and clearly "Sir, yes, Sir!"
"Your attitude suggests you want a fourth day of ISS, is that correct?"
"No, definitely not. I don't think so. Nope, not a chance. I think I'll just stick with three detentions." Mike smiled widely and scrunched his eyes together to add to the forced smile effect.
Mr. Stetson walked off towards the office building with his hands behind his back. It looked as if he was shaking his own hand, with a deathly tight grip. Mike crossed his eyes and morphed his calm lips into a crooked smile. He pressed the button that closed his window, then turned to face Pacey.
"We're screwed," he wasn't smiling anymore, crooked or otherwise. "I've never gotten in trouble in my life," then he started glaring, or at least what he thought was glaring. His version consisted of squinted eyes and his teeth clenched.
"Yeah," Pacey agreed with him, "we are definitely screwed."
Chapter Five
Pacey was sitting on the edge of her naked bed. She glanced over in the corner of the room and examined the piled sheets and comforter in a baby blue laundry basket. She decided that she would take it downstairs to the basement and wondered if her mother would actually come home that night. It would have been a lot to assume, and Pacey made a mental note not to get her hopes up.
It was a rare moment when Miss. Kraer, Pacey's mother, would arrive home. She usually only did three times a month. If it was a good month, she would come home five times, but no more. She worked full time at a local bank, and when the bank closed each night, she made her way out of the glass doors and to the newly paved street. From outside the building she would turn right, left, then right again, and walk for five minutes.
After she turned a final right, she would land herself in front of an old brick house. Lazily, she would walk up the walkway to the front porch in stilettos which would be whatever color matched her current ensemble perfectly. If they didn't match her two piece suit and skirt, they would go in sync with the accessories she wore around her wrists, and upon her thin, pale neck.
Clicking the silver key in the golden lock, she would push the door open to reveal a wide entranceway. Walking ten steps forward, dropping her purse on the oak table, she would sit down across from Him. He would smile His million dollar smile, with His fake whitened teeth. The kind of teeth Pacey despised, all because of Him.
He was the reason why she hated perfection. He was the reason why she wanted to be different. He was the reason why she wanted someone to be different with her. He was the reason her family was so fucked up.
Exactly nine years ago Pacey's father had walked into his wife's office, expecting to surprise her. An anniversary he wouldn't let be forgotten. It would have been the first time he remembered without being reminded. He accidentally dropped the bouquet he had been carrying, filled with Pacey's mother's favorite kind of flower; Daisies. He bent down on one knee as if he was going to propose to the cluttered desk sitting in front of him. He was definitely the one surprised, when he saw his wife's silk blouse lying underneath the fallen arrangement of Daisies.
Pacey hated Him so much for ruining her family. He had made Pacey's father leave. Mr. Cole was the only person that had ever understood Pacey, before Mike of course. And it wasn't as if her father ended his relationship with his two daughters and his slut of a wife, he ended his entire life. It was Him that made Pacey so irritable towards family.
Pacey's dad returned home to their old white house past three that night. He threw his keys down on the hardwood flooring and slammed his fists on a glass table which shattered under the pressure. Brooke and Pacey had been peacefully asleep in their freshly laundered matching pink beds (sheets and all). When they heard the crash of the glass table, they jerked awake and Pacey ran into Brooke's room. Brooke being two years older than her, Pacey (who was only seven at the time) thought she would be safer in her sister's bed. She crawled under the covers and Brooke wrapped her arms tight around her sister's waist.
More crashes came from the rooms below the girls as their father smashed more precious items. He stomped through the kitchen and took such heavy steps that as each foot hit the ground, the china in the cupboards shook. He threw open two of the shaking cabinets and snatched a stack of plates with his muscular hands. He picked the first one off the stack and threw it straight to the tile floor. When it met the surface it smashed into six oddly shaped pieces. He repeated the process with all seven of the plates in his hands, then grabbed another stack of smaller plates.
After all sets of china in the cabinets had been destroyed, Pacey and Brooke's father stepped across the river of glass in his boots. He found his keys and drove off through the night.
When Pacey's mom returned home the next morning, she had a tear stained face and was wearing the same clothes from the day before. She walked in the house and ignored every question thrown at her from her two confused daughters. All she had with her was a small pocket pack of pink scented tissues, and a newspaper article clenched in her fist.
She tried to resist as Pacey ran towards her with her arms outstretched looking as if she was going to give her a rib crushing hug. She looked at her other daughter, who stood at the top of the wide staircase, with her small hands held tightly against her mouth. Pacey hadn't been preparing to hug her mother; instead she ran up to her and snatched the article from her clutches. Mrs. Cole tried to grab the torn beige paper from her daughter, but she had already read the title aloud, and tore the article in half. Quickly, she ran up the stairs and violently knocked her sister aside.
"Pacey," Her mother screeched. Her voice broke as she screamed, "Honey, come back down here!"
"Ma," Brooke began, as she picked herself off the ground and made her way down the steps carefully. "What-" Brooke's heart stopped beating, as she eyed the torn newspaper that was crumpled on the ground before her. She glanced over at her mother, who had crawled into a corner of the entranceway. She was holding her legs against her chest and buried her face between her knees. Brooke crawled over to where her mother was positioned, and placed her frail arm around her mother's shoulders.
Once Brooke had successfully brought her mother up to bed, and cleaned up the broken glass in the kitchen, she settled down in a living room chair with a roll of tape and the two pieces of the article. After she taped the halves together, she read silently to herself. She had only read the first sentence, when silent tears began forming in her eyes.
Man Jumps From Nearby Bridge
By: Charles Robin
At six thirty this morning, a forty-three year old man was found on the shore of nearby Brent River by an elderly couple. "When we found him he wasn't breathing. I yelled up to my husband to call an ambulance," said Courtney Sanas, who was walking along the beach with her dog when she spotted Bryan Cole splayed in the sand.
Brooke was continuously wiping her tears with her mother's tissues. But one stray tear fell upon her father's name. She gasped, then wiped her finger over the words to try and dry it. Instead, she smeared half of the paragraph. Making a mental note to go out to buy another paper later, she continued to read, crying harder than ever.
The bridge under which Cole was suspected to have jumped from is an hour ride from his suburban home in Canesville. Local bartender Gordon Vincent from "Jonny's Pub", told reporters that he had spoken to Cole only half an hour before. "He told me that he was considering jumping from the bridge," said Vincent. "But working at a pub I know that a lot of drunks say they will do something, but never end up doing it. Still, I tried to convince him it was a stupid idea. He left and swore to me that he would make his way home. I guess when it comes to strangers, promises don't have to be kept."
Vincent ignored all questions he was asked when it came to why Cole committed suicide. "Other than me, only two other people know why Bryan threw away his life. They know who they are, and I hope they feel extremely ashamed for their sins. That's all I have to say." Vincent walked back to attend to customers, and didn't say another word to any of the other reporters.
Surprisingly, a note written on a bar napkin was found in Cole's car, which was pulled over beside the bridge he leaped from. It was addressed to "My family, or at least what remains of it..." The friendly bartender, Gordon Vincent, agreed to deliver the note to the office of Bethanne Kraer, Cole's wife, for her to read this morning in private.
When reporters showed up at her office for questioning, she slammed the door on their faces, with tears running down her rosy cheeks.
Chapter Six
Pacey fell asleep on her naked mattress while thinking about the past. It was a good thing, too, because when she let her mind wonder, she would be reminded of horrid parts of her life. She didn't want that to happen, especially since things had been going so well.
The last couple of months had been filled with Mike. They had a planned schedule for each day of the week. On Mondays, they didn't have much time together since they had school. But they took advantage of every minute they could spend together. During lunch hour, they would either sit in the courtyard and lounge against the building walls or go out to eat at any of the nearby fast food places.
Pacey had started asking questions during Monday lunches, and by this time she knew almost all there was to know about Mike Callaway. From the foods he covers in ketchup to the number of schools he's been to (quite a few, by fourteen he stopped counting). She also knew one of his deepest secrets; that when he passes away he hopes to be reincarnated as a flying squirrel. When they decided to get fast food on Mondays, they would take turns ordering for one another. Pacey knew to always order some kind of cheeseburger with fries and lots of ketchup. Mike would simple order Pacey a salad, and any meat was to be taken off.
"I'm guessing that since I ordered no meat that you're a vegetarian?" Mike asked on one of their first Monday lunches.
"Yup," replied Pacey, "That would be correct."
"Ah, and since when, may I ask?" he asked as they made their way to their usual table in the back.
Pacey exhaled, "Since my wicked stepfather decided to surprise me and Brooke by buying a pet pig one summer a while ago. We thought he was just, you know, trying to buy our affection. Then around a month later we saw Mr. Piggles being grilled on the fourth of July. Brooke and I swore to never eat pork again, in memory of Mr. Piggles. She only took it that far, but after another incident with our "pet" chicken named Furry, I decided not to eat meat altogether."
Mike made a face as if he was thinking this over in his head. "Makes sense to me."
"Mhm. Hand me that fork, please." Pacey said, eyeing the utensil beside Mike's tray. He looked up at her and she pointed to what she wanted. Nodding, he dropped it with a clunk on her tray, and ripped open a fourth packet of ketchup for his French fries.
"Oh, merci beaucoup, Monsieur," she winked.
"Avec plaisir, mademoiselle." Mike returned the wink. He smiled.
Pacey was open mouthed, amazed. "You speak French?" She couldn't help but make it sound like as much of a big deal as she thought it was.
"For four years. I'm a little rusty, since I didn't get to take it this year, but oh well. Beggars can't be choosers, right?"
"Right. Wow, I mean seriously, wow," said Pacey with her mouth open, hoping she didn't look as lame as she felt.
"What, you don't think I'm smart enough to be almost fluent in another language? Thanks, Pace," Mike put on a hurt face and looked down at his burger. He took a ketchup packet and added another glop beneath the bun.
"No! I mean I figured you were smart... I mean you are smart but you don't look like the kind of person... By that I don't mean that you look stupid because you don't... Anyone who looked at you wouldn't know your stupid or anything... Wait, I didn't mean that! You're not stupid and you don't look stupid... It's just that I didn't think you would-" Pacey hadn't taken a breath since she began rambling.
"Pace, calm down! Sarcasm strikes again! You really need to work on not being so damn gullible," He threw a fry at her, which she blocked with both hands shielding her face.
"Okay," she said quickly as placed her hands to each side of her salad bowl. She took a deep, loud inhale and let the air settle in her lungs. The oxygen molecules made their way through her blood to her brain which was absorbing the information it had recently received. Pacey held the breath for another ten seconds, then exhaled even more slowly than she had inhaled. Feeling much better now that she didn't feel as if she was choking, Pacey picked up her fork and stabbed a shred of lettuce.
Mike took a large bite of his burger and managed to drip ketchup down his chin and onto his tee shirt. "So," he said with his mouth still half full, "a chicken named Furry?"
"Don't make fun of me. I was young. What would you have named a chicken?"
"I'm definitely not making fun of you. And I would name it Casper." Mike must not have noticed his red dribble, since he paid it no mind.
"Casper? As in the friendly ghost?" Pacey still hadn't eaten the lettuce on her fork. She lifted it halfway to her mouth when she realized that she had forgotten to put on the dressing. Setting down her fork she said, "And you were too making fun of me. Admit it!"
"I was not making fun of you! You are my role model, Pacey Lynn Cole. Well, except for your grades, a C in Computers? How do you do it?" The drip on Mike's chin was slowly making its way to his neck. It would eventually drip down to his tee shirt and join the other marks to create an impossible stain.
Pacey couldn't stand watching the drip slowly fall from Mike's chin. She took a napkin and wrapped it around her index finger. "Hold still, you weirdo," she said as she leaned towards him. Carefully she wiped at the ketchup until there was nothing left on his fair skin. Pacey dropped back into her seat and tossed the napkin at Mike.
"Thanks for that," Mike said to his tray, "mommy."
Pacey smiled and said, "your welcome, deary."
Starring down at her still full salad bowl, Pacey picked up her ranch dressing packet and tore the corner. After squeezing the packet until it was completely empty then once again picked up her fork. After scraping the fork prongs on the edge of her bowl, Pacey stabbed a ranch drenched piece of lettuce and ate it. The tangy taste of the dressing teased her taste buds.
Chapter Seven
Tuesdays were close to the same as Mondays. The only exception was fourth period study hall (A week after Pacey had met Mike, a new marking period had begun, meaning new schedules). Pacey would find a pair of seats in the 'study hall room'. The 'study hall room' could basically be explained as a small, lame library without any computers. On each of the four tan and white striped walls were six individual shelves. Organized by reading level, subject, then author, you could find only books that had won awards in the past. Books that didn't have any awards were thought to be lame, stupid, and not worthy of being in the 'study hall room'.
After Pacey arrived in room C264 she would remove her mp3 player from her bag. Subconsciously she nodded her head along with the beat of whatever song was playing on full volume in her ears. About ten minutes after Pacey got to C264 Mike would usually walk in. On one particular Tuesday Pacey had been waiting for only three minutes when she heard a smack on the door of the room. Through the clear glass she saw, with perfect timing, Mike fall to the floor and drop all of his belongings on the floor.
Pacey couldn't help but laugh really loudly, which was not only forbidden, but made her sound like a preppy cheerleader. Instantly she forced a coughing fit to try and disguise her laugh. After mouthing an apology to Mrs. Rodriguez, she opened her novel and peered over at Mike still in the hallway. He was, obviously not for the first time, having a chat with Mr. Stetson. And the look on the Principal's face led Pacey to believe Mike was being lectured. Finally when Mike was released from Mr. Stetson, he entered study hall looking mildly embarrassed.
"With my luck, you all saw the.. Um," Mike searched for the right word, "incident." He placed his bag on the oak table where Pacey was sitting and pulled out his chair.
"Of course. And with my luck you heard an obnoxious laugh erupt from this very room when you toppled over." Pacey slid a folded piece of paper into her book and closed it.
"That-That ferocious laugh was yours?" Mike whispered incredulously. He started to laugh when he noticed they were being watched by the study hall teacher. He said, "Sorry", but then was given the universal sign for 'be quiet'. Mike turned to Pacey, rolled his eyes, then smiled weakly. His smile disappeared when he whispered, "I don't get it."
Pacey began, "Well, I mean it was hilarious. I saw you right when you fell and-"
"That's not what I don't get, Pace." Mike said without a trace of a smile on his face. Instead his face screamed seriousness and Pacey automatically asked:
"Then what don't you get?"
"I don't get how smashing into a door on accident is a crime. How falling to the ground after said smash deserves a detention!" Mike was no longer whispering. Mrs. Rodriguez noticed and tapped him on the shoulder as a warning. But Mike turned very quickly and spat in her face, "I know! Be quiet! Just hold on a damn minute, okay?!" While Mike turned back around in his seat, Pacey watched as the teacher stuck her arms down to her sides and stomped back to her desk in the front of the room.
"Mr. Stetson gave you a detention for that?" Pacey asked in amazement. She looked back at Mike's angered red face. "What actually happened?"
"I was on my way here and I stopped by my locker to put a book away and I heard, well, I'll tell you what I heard in a minute. But I started running here so that I could tell you. I wasn't exactly paying attention to what was directly in front of me because my head was turned towards the stairs. I saw a girl stepping down the first stair but she placed her foot in the wrong spot. Suddenly she started to fall so I attempted to turn while I was running to try and help her before she tumbled down.
"But since I was looking to the side I didn't realize that I was right in front of the glass door so I kind of, well. You know what happened next."
Pacey was open-mouthed. "Wait, what was so important that you were running here to tell me?"
"Hold your horses, cattle, and all other potentially harmful livestock," Mike snickered at his own joke, while Pacey curiously watched him. "What is this, a staring contest?" Pacey nodded subtly without blinking. "Bring it on, biznatch."
Pacey said, still not blinking, "Did you just say what I think you said?"
"Depends, did you think I said 'biology'. If so, then no, I definitely did not say what you think I said."
"No, did you seriously just say 'biznatch'?"
Mike nodded like a bobble head on the dashboard of a truck riding down an old gravel road. "Yes, I believe I did. Do you have a problem with that, Queen Pacey?" The nodding stopped.
"Absolutely not. It's just that... I don't know. You sounded like the kind of people that I hate."
"Please elaborate." He leaned in like a concerned therapist talking to a troubled patient.
Pacey took a short pause before responding. "You know the kind. The people who are overly happy about every darn thing. People who don't have a single smart cell in their body. Those that have never had to live in the real world, experience something unwanted, something horrible."
"What have you had to experience that has made you unlike the 'biznatches' who are so happy?" Mike actually did look concerned, as if it wasn't an act. Pacey didn't know yet how serious he really was about the matter.
"It's a long story, and I don't really want to talk about it right now." She set her arm on the table in front of her and slowly placed her head upon it.
"Okay, and if you just don't want to tell me at all, I understand."
"It's not that I don't want to tell you, I mean..." Pacey took a deep breath. "I'll tell you later. I just don't want to talk about it here. Not around these people."
Chapter Eight
Every Wednesday after school Pacey would drive her jeep to the bridge that crossed over Brent River. Mike would meet her here, after stopping by a local gas station to purchase a pack of cigarettes for them to share. The cashier on Wednesday afternoons was a stoner, for sure, and never bothered to ask Mike for identification. Together he and Pacey would lean against the guard rail and speak about what had been on their minds that day. Most of the time it was just Mike talking about classes and his word overload, while Pacey listened. Although she would nod every now and then while he spoke, Pacey would usually look out at the river and think of her soap opera past.
She still hadn't decided whether to tell Mike about her dad or not. It was always a sore subject. Why wouldn't it be? Pacey had only revealed her father's death to one other person. And that hadn't gone over so well. His reaction, well, it made Pacey's life even harder for her.
One day while Pacey was trying to gain the courage to reveal her secrets to Mike, she saw a shoe riding along in the river's slow current. The shoe was a dusty shade of gray. Both sides of the sneaker had a thick black stripe running from heal to toe. Every couple seconds the shoe would turn slightly to either the left or right. When the sneaker was within thirty feet of the bridge Pacey was able to guess that it was a men's shoe, and didn't belong to a child.
"...God I hate that woman, she always singles me out. 'Michael, pay attention! Michael, stop blabbing to your lab partner and continue with the experiment!'"
"Who?" Pacey asked dumbly. She had been lost in her own world, wondering about the lone sneaker drifting along.
"Hello? Have I been talking to myself for the past," Mike lifted his wrist and checked the time, 3:30, "forty-five minutes?" His expression seemed to be screaming "How rude!"
"Um, no. I've just been thinking... about things." Pacey glanced back down at the river for half a second before looking back up at Mike with a smile. Then she did a double take a checked back in the water. The shoe was gone. Pacey thought about running across traffic to the other side of the bridge to see if the shoe was still traveling, but decided against it. If there was another car/bridge related death in this soap opera called 'Days of Pacey's life', the ratings would go way down and the show would be canceled.
"Well okay then," Mike turned away from her and looked out at the river. Without looking back at Pacey, he reached into his sweatshirt pocket and grabbed a pack of cigarettes. Still not even glancing in her direction he held out the pack to her. Pacey was surprised that when she shook her head, he put the pack away as if he had actually seen her head move left to right.
Pacey lifted herself onto the tips of her toes and spoke quietly into Mike's ear, "I have something else to smoke." With a glance around she said quickly, "Come with me", jerked Mike's hand from the bridge railing, and started off running down to the end of the bridge's sidewalk, dragging him along with her.
When they had reached the front of an old fashioned pub, Pacey looked around again. Mike wrenched his hand from her fingers and shouted, "Where they hell are we going?" But Pacey just grabbed his other hand and pulled him behind the building. "Are you planning on mugging me? Because I don't have any cash on me if that's what you want."
"Be quiet, will you? No, I'm not going to mug you," as she spoke Pacey looked around at the lot, taking in her surroundings. They were leaning against the brick back wall of Jonny's Pub feet from a metal door with a sign indicating that it was an exit from the bar. Across from the door were two dumpsters with the words "Property of Jonny's Pub" scribbled along the sides in white paint that contrasted with the green metal.
"So then, why are we back here? Ugh, I hear rats," Mike scrunched up his nose and groaned. He turned his head dramatically to his right and blinked repeatedly at Pacey. But she was too busy looking around at cigarette butt littered alley. "What are you looking for?"
"My backpack, I thought I brought it with me when we ran here." Pacey pushed off from the wall and jogged to the front of the pub. Mike followed behind like a well-trained dog. After searching the entrance to Jonny's and failing to find the bag, Pacey ran back around to the dumpsters. Once it was clear the bag wasn't there she turned and slammed the bottom of her fist on the brick wall. Pacey shifted so her back was once again on the wall, then slowly sunk to the ground cursing. Between curses she said loudly, "I must have left it on the bridge! Crap, how could I be so freaking stupid?"
Mike walked to her side and bent his knees. Brushing his hand along the ridged brick he said, "It's just a bag, Pace. I'll go get it. Hold on." He stood and went to turn the corner of the building but stopped to say, "Oh, and if any innocent people walk by, don't mug them. Tchao!" He smiled broadly and ran back to the bridge.
After he had turned the corner Pacey set her knees in front of her and laid her arms on top of them. She let her head fall on her arms and rocked her head from left to right. Inhale. Exhale. It will be there, right where I left it. Inhale. Exhale. It felt like it had only been three seconds when she heard the pounding of Mike's sneakers against the pavement. "Feel free to call me amazing, I like hearing the truth." Mike set the backpack to the left of Pacey before sitting cross legged on her right.
"I wouldn't want you to get a big ego, or anything. But thanks."
"So I'm going to ask again, what the hell are we doing here?"
"Well I said I have something else to smoke, didn't I?"
At that, Mike raised his eyebrows dramatically. "Did you? I wasn't listening. I was too busy talking to myself. For forty-five minutes!"
"Sorry, okay! I was just thinking about other things."
"Yeah, like what?" Mike cocked his head, interested.
"Nothing important. Anyway, like I said, I have-"
"Why do you have so many secrets?"
"I don't-" Pacey began, but Mike interrupted again.
"Come on, Pace. I mean, like, ask me anything and I will give you an answer. I can't guarantee it will be an honest one or even a good one but I will still answer."
"You can ask-"
"I've tried asking, but you just always say something like 'Not now, maybe later' or 'There are too many people around, I don't want them to hear' or even 'It's too complicated for you'."
"I'm sorry, it's just that-"
"You know what? Forget it, I don't care anymore."
"No I'll tell you but-"
"I said forget it. Whatever, Queen Pacey. I guess you just won't reveal your secrets to the underclassmen." He started to stand.
"What do you mean underclassmen? You don't-"
"Seriously, Pace, it's not like we're still total and complete strangers. I understand if there are some things you don't want me to know. But you make it seem like I am a stranger and I'm asking you to reveal your whole life to me."
"Mike just let me explain some things-"
"Don't bother." Mike walked around the corner and vanished from Pacey's view. She just stared in amazement at where his head had been only seconds before. What had just happened? Pacey was incredibly confused and wanted to just sit where she was for hours to think about it. But she knew she couldn't, she had to run and tell him. Tell him everything. She had to reveal to Mike Callaway secrets that she had only told one other person before. Rowan. She had had a whole lot more time to prepare for the revealing of her life when it came to Rowan. A slow and steady delivery, set into portions. But this time would be extremely different. Pacey would have to spill her whole life out as quickly as she could, to stop Mike from leaving her, physically and mentally, like so many others had done before.
But it was not possible. She knew she would not be able to tell all her secrets at once. It would be too confusing and much too difficult for the both of them. Difficult for Pacey because she would be talking on and on about the things that had happened to her, her family, her loved ones. Also difficult for Mike because he probably wouldn't know what to say. Pacey decided just to leave the pub alleyway and go back to the bridge. Forgetting entirely about the joint in her bag that had brought the two teenagers behind the building in the first place, Pacey picked herself off the ground, snatched up the bag, and headed back toward the bridge.
At each corner of the building Pacey would lean against the wall and peer around the corner like a spy. When she and Brooke were little and still friendly towards each other, they would play spies. Together they would think up a mystery, and then creep around the house finding clues and suspects while wearing all black. Together they solved every case, then giggled when their mother commented, "Oh, you two are so mischievous."
In the back of her mind Pacey pictured her and her sister playing their silly game:
Come here, Pacey! I found a fingerprint!
Mommy did it! Mommy's the thief!
Peering around the door to Jonny's Pub, Pacey had more quick pictures flash in the back of her brain:
The headline: Man Jumps From Nearby Bridge.
The picture of a tall man, eyes closed, mouth open, being covered
from head to toe with a white sheet on a stretcher.
Mom co
Short story by kaytee
Read 680 times
Written on 2007-08-20 at 22:28
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leaving your fingerprints.
Chapter OneAn intense death metal song filled the ordinary white room. It was seven thirty on a glum Tuesday morning. The alarm clock was set to 'random'. The song playing had been selected from the shuffled songs on the mp3 player set beside it. At that moment, it was obvious that this day would be no different from the dull day preceding it. Typical, because of course nothing exciting occurred in the life of Pacey Cole.
The drummer of the band began a solo excessively loud and extreme. It wasn't until after the song was over and the drummer was still playing that Pacey jerked awake. The soloist, also known as Pacey's sister, Brooke, continued banging on the wall only inches from Pacey's head.
"Turn that emo garbage off already!" Brooke screamed through the drywall and thick layers of cheap Behr paint. "You are going to make me late again!" By that point Pacey had drifted back to sleep. She slept with headphones on with her favorite CD playing repeatedly. The sound of her vexatious sister banging on the wall had actually helped her fall deeper into her sleep.
When Brooke heard a faint snore from the other side of her wall, she grabbed a CD and exited her room. Brooke clomped down the short narrow hallway. After only two and a half seconds of stomping down the hallway, she reached her sister's door. The ordinary white door matched all the others in the small townhouse. The only way that a stranger would know that a human inhabited the room behind the door, were the fingerprints circling around the handle.
Knowing that once her mother heard about Pacey's rude awakening she would ask if Brooke had knocked, she rapped on the door with all her strength. After four raps on the door, she twisted the dirty handle and braced herself for an even dirtier sight.
Just as Brooke had predicted, the room was a colossal disaster. Ignoring the numerous piles of clothing on the floor, Brooke stepped over to where her sister was sleeping peacefully. Knowing there would be hell to pay if she awoke her sister; Brooke turned off the death metal, and placed her own CD into the Walkman attached to Pacey's headphones. After choosing her personal favorite song from the seventeen tracks on the disc, Brooke touched her perfectly manicured nail against the play button.
In seconds the Pop song was filling Pacey's head. She was jerked awake for the second time that morning. As the cheerful tones got louder in the headphones, Pacey ripped the plug out of the Walkman and threw the detached disc player at her sister. Before the player met with Brookes skin, she turned around and covered her face. With a satisfying "smash" the player broke into three large pieces after colliding with Brooke's shoulder blade.
Brooke shrieked and Pacey put her hands to her mouth. She inhaled slowly, then reached out a hand and placed it on her sister's unharmed shoulder.
"Brooke, are... are you okay?" Pacey hesitated before taking a soft step toward her sister. This wasn't the first time that she harmed her sister like this. Her mind filled with thoughts of regret but only for a second. "Brooke I'm sorry, okay?"
Pacey put two fingers under her sister's chin, and lifted carefully so they could meet eye-to-eye. The second Pacey peered into her sister's hurt eyes but she didn't feel tears well up in her own. Knowing it was physically impossible for her to actually shed a tear; Pacey dropped her sister's chin and walked to the doorway.
"Just get out, okay?" Pacey stared at the ground, avoiding Brooke's pained eyes. Brooke stabilized herself and choked back her tears. She knew what her little sister was thinking; their Mom would possibly kill Pacey if she came home that night and found out what happened.
"Don't worry, I'll just tell mom I don't feel well and am staying home from school. If she asks about my shoulder, I'll tell her I tripped on the stairs," and with that final statement, Brooke left the cluttered room and headed to the bathroom. The bathroom was always where she went to cry. She turned the faucet on high and sobbed.
Feeling miserable about her temper issues, Pacey sat back down on her bed. She peered around at the infinite piles of clothing on the white carpet. After choosing a heap out of random, she scooted off the soft mattress and onto the floor. From there, she crawled over to the pile she chose, and began to search through it. She removed all the clothes she didn't want to wear from the pile by tossing them over her shoulder. As the pile in front of Pacey grew smaller, the ones behind her grew taller.
Near the bottom of the clothing heap Pacey found a black tee shirt with three holes. From the pile beside her, she pulled a pair of ripped jeans and a white tank top to wear underneath the ripped tee. Pacey walked over to the door and shut it softly so not to disturb her bawling sister. Quickly she shed her dad's old Kiss tee shirt and her Old Navy boxers.
As she pulled on the tank and black tee, she glanced at herself in the mirror above her armoire. It was easy to see how tired she was. After pulling on her ripped jeans, she scratched her eyes and headed out of the ordinary room. From the hallway she went to the bathroom. Just seconds before she knocked she thought about her sister in there leaning against the sink crying her eyes dry.
She retreated from the bathroom door, and walked down the townhouse's creaky stairs to the bathroom by the kitchen. Only a foot away from the other bathroom's door did she realize she had forgotten an important factor in doing makeup; her makeup bag. Silently cursing to herself, she shuffled back up the stairs to retrieve the bag from her room. When she turned to face her bedroom door, she saw that the door was cracked open. Brooke, she thought to herself.
Quietly she pushed her hand against the door opening it fully. Surely enough, Brooke was bent over on the floor to pick up one of the destroyed pieces of the walkman. Suddenly, Brooke burst into sobs again so Pacey walked over to her and whispered her name. "Brooke, what are you-"
Obviously Pacey had frightened Brooke by speaking when she thought she was alone in the room. When Brooke returned to full height, Pacey saw that she was receiving her CD from the smashed device. The disc filled with the kind of music that Pacey despised was split into two pieces, one slightly bigger than the other.
"I said I was sorry, okay? Want more do you want from me, blood?" Pacey shouted at her sister. Brooke's eyes were blotchy, and her lip was quivering. She took two steps, but not in the direction of the door. "What the hell are you doing?"
Brooke was biting her lip as she looked up at Pacey. So hard that a drop of blood trickled from where the incisor pierced the flesh. After slowly licking the blood from her lip she said, "I wanted to see if my disc survived the crash, but I guess not." The blinding sun reflected off the disc as Brooke lifted it to show Pacey the damage. A pink and white striped sleeve wiped across her nose as she sniffed. She stood up straight and made her way to the door. Once again she glanced at the fingerprints surrounding the doorknob, thought nothing of it, then stepped into the narrow hall.
Chapter Two
Pacey parked in the farthest parking lot from the high school she attended. After she checked the clock on the dashboard, she reached into the back of the jeep to grab her bag. As she lifted it from under the seat, the zipper caught on the buckle and sent all of her papers to the floor. "Shit," Pacey cursed quietly to herself and tugged harder on the bag to release it from the buckle. The cheap fabric of the worn bag loudly ripped. Now there was a four inch long cut across the bottom of the bag. Pacey screamed in frustration and forcefully threw the bag on the passenger seat. Slamming her fists on the steering wheel, she began screaming curse words.
As her freak out continued, a few teenagers pulled up beside her in a red convertible. They were all smiling until they heard the screaming coming from the jeep. Two blonde girls in short denim skirts, as short as the dress code would allow, pressed their faces to the tinted black window. Their boyfriends moved from the other side of their car to glance at Pacey. The peering teenagers had no idea who the maniac in the jeep was. Pacey Cole was one of the most ignored students at their high school.
When finally Pacey noticed that people were watching her as if she was part of the top celebrity scandal on the VH1, she began to calm. Her heart was still pounding two times faster than usual, but she pressed her chapped lips together to look as if she was back to normal. But Pacey's normal state was no where near the usual level of normalcy. Whatever the situation, even if she was just lying in bed closing her eyes forcing sleep upon herself, she was never completely calm and serene.
After searching the car for all her papers, Pacey shoved them back into the ripped bag. To insure that the pages of homework and notes wouldn't fall out again, she had to hold her bag tightly against her chest as she walked up the cement stairs to the school. She was assuming the nerd position and receiving stranger looks than normal while entering the school.
Getting more and more frustrated from all the kids that began whispering as she passed them, she stomped straight to her locker where she removed the papers from her bag and set them on a shelf. From the small pocket in the front of the backpack, Pacey retrieved a small plastic baggy. She turned her head left to right to check to see if any teachers were watching. The bag was immediately shoved into her back jeans pocket and she slammed the locker shut.
The hallway was getting more and more crowded as more kids were arriving at school. Few teenagers took the bus to school, so the hallway to the back door near the bus drop off was almost empty. Pacey decided that would be the quickest route although the other directions were quicker in distance. It was easier to slip through the ten kids coming through that entrance than the sixty kids coming from the others. Once Pacey reached the door, she wrapped her long fingers around the handle, and pulled towards herself.
The wind had gained speed since she had left her jeep only fifteen minutes earlier. Pacey took her regular spot near the dumpster and leaned her back against it. Slowly she slid down until she sat cross legged on the asphalt. The baggy was taken from her back pocket, and the freshly rolled joint was taken from it. A joint of marijuana was just the thing to settle Pacey, after a long morning and before an even longer day of school. Pacey was happy that she could finally get her weekly needed drug intake, until she realized she had left her lighter at home. Luckily, she spotted another kid around the corner of the dumpster taking a drag.
"Hey, got a lighter?" Pacey asked coolly. The boy was probably her age, or older. She had never seen him before, but he looked like someone she could stand talking to. He reached into his navy blue backpack sitting at his side and searched until he came up with a camouflage lighter.
"Here," he tossed the lighter gently to Pacey, and zipped up the bag. "My name's Mike. What's yours?" He gave her this small smile and extended his hand to her. Weak, Pacey thought to herself. This is probably his first time ever smoking anything. Pacey looked him over. He was great looking on her scale. His blonde hair was long enough that the ends curled every which way. One stray lock was positioned in front of one of his clear gray eyes, and Pacey was tempted to reach across and brush it away.
It was strange because Pacey hadn't looked at a guy this closely in almost a year. Since her last relationship ended in a literal car crash, she hadn't thought about going out with anyone else.
"Okay then, never mind," Mike replaced his hand on the ground beside him and looked forward. Pacey followed his eyes to the line of oak trees on the other side of the south parking lot.
"No, um, wait. Sorry, what did you say?" For the first time in a long time, Pacey was nervous about how she sounded. She was acting as if it was her first time talking to a guy. Of course, it wasn't. Pacey had spent many hours of her previous school years watching movies with guys her age and older.
"Oh, sorry I thought you were just ignoring me by the way you were staring. I said 'My name's Mike. What's yours?'" He blinked three times really quickly. Was he nervous? Surely it couldn't have been his first time talking to a girl? He was gorgeous; just about every preppy girl would be after him. Even Pacey thought he was incredible looking, and since the accident a year ago she hadn't even thought about communicating with a guy she didn't already know and trust; which left her with only three. And two of which were dead.
Pacey snapped back to reality when she saw Mike with his head cocked, staring back at her. He looked like he was trying to see into her, by using her eyes as a passageway. Instantly, Pacey could tell they would get along. She didn't know how, or why she felt this way, she just did. So she opened her mouth, and told him her name. "Pacey. My name's Pacey."
"Pacey," he said, and stroked his stubble-free chin with his thumb and index finger. He wasn't very good at looking serious, and couldn't help but laugh. Pacey glanced at him, and also felt the sudden urge to laugh. But she resisted the urge, so she wouldn't seem like a ditz in front of Mike. "That is such an original name." Pacey held her breathe. "I like it," he said with a smile on his lips. Pacey finally exhaled as he added "a lot, actually."
Knowing that her name was liked by Mike made Pacey grin. It had felt as if her world would come crashing down if he didn't like her name. She would have been deeply disappointed to find he hated it, but to know that he really did like it, made her so happy. "I, I like it, too. I guess." She felt stupid for talking like a moron with the vocabulary of a teletubby. "I mean, uh," she said, thinking why can't I say anything normal? She thought of something to say, but felt it wouldn't be okay to say at first meeting. So why not arrange a second meeting? It was perfect; Pacey could ask him to get lunch with her or something. At the school they could leave between twelve o'clock and one o'clock to get food off campus.
As Pacey was gaining enough courage to invite him out for the lunch period, the bell rang behind them. The sound echoed from the loudspeakers scattered randomly on the ceilings of the school. Mike threw his cigarette across the street, and reached for his bag. Getting to his feet, he offered Pacey a hand. She took it nervously and allowed him to pull her up. With her free hand, she brushed off her jeans. When he felt she was steady, he let go over her hand and it fell to her side. She bent over to get her own bag and lifted her joint to her lips for a final drag. "Cheers to overly peppy girls and egotistic jocks," she said lazily as she exhaled the smoke. "May they all die tragically in the back seats of their expensive cars." Mike let out a laugh and smiled showing her all his teeth that were edged with the lightest shade of yellow. Turning back to the dumpster she had been leaning against, she stood on the tips of her low tops and tossed the reduced joint inside to join the dozens of cigarette butts and black trash bags.
"You are a very funny person, Miss...?"
"Cole. Pacey Cole."
"Miss Cole. I like it. May I escort you to first period?" He reached for her hand and brought it to his light pink lips. He placed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, and bowed before her. Pacey was smiling maybe more than she should have. Together they entered the building. An hour ago they were total strangers, but now her feeling of closeness to Mike was more intense. They would be seeing a lot of each other, she could tell.
Chapter Three
"Ms. Cole?" Mrs. Paschal should have been used to Pacey falling asleep during her eighth period geometry class. She shuffled over to Pacey's desk in her flat granny-shoes. The ruler she had been using as a pointer for the overhead was hanging lifelessly by her side. "For goodness sake, Ms. Cole!" She slapped the ruler on the desk with all her strength, which didn't add up to much.
Pacey jerked awake. Would she ever be able to sleep in peace? It was apparent the answer she was looking for was 'no', when Mrs. Paschal barked at her until someone else answered her question. "The Pythagorean Theorem stated that the length of the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the other two lengths."
Instantly Pacey was irritated with the person who got the correct answer. Pacey raised her hand and Mrs. Paschal gave her an annoyed look, "What do you want, Pacey?"
"Well, Mrs. Paschal, I have a question. Am I not allowed to ask a simple question about the discussion taking place in class? Isn't this a school? Or is it just a dungeon of torture? Actually I think it is both but-"
"Ms. Cole! What is your question?!"
"Well I was just wondering 'when are we ever going to have to use this in the real world'? But it would be a dumb question to ask a teacher, especially you."
"Why is that, Ms. Cole?"
"First of all, stop calling me 'Ms. Cole', you freakish woman. It would be dumb to ask a teacher especially you because there is no chance that you know anything about the real world given your lack of any style in clothing, shoes, cosmetics, and just about everything else. What I'm really curious about, Mrs. Paschal, is how does an irritating old woman like you get a job as a teacher? It might be just my opinion but you are no way a good teacher. Not the way you teach, or the fact that you frighten children innocently walking passed you and, heck, you even frighten me a little bit-"
"Office, now!" Mrs. Paschal screamed. She was getting red in the face from anger. She stomped up to her desk on the opposite side of the room and opened the top left drawer. As she did this Pacey stood up and walked over to the door covered in posters encouraging students to 'stay in school'. Why the hell should we? She thought to herself. She crossed her arms and yawned as if she hadn't gotten enough sleep during class. Out of the drawer, Mrs. Paschal pulled out a pad of hall passes.
After filling out the pass as quickly as she could in way less than neat penmanship, she handed it to Pacey. Pacey grabbed it and leaned close to her teacher's scrawny face. "Buh-bye now, Ms. Paschal." She waved her hand dramatically in her face, then turned and walked out the door.
As she made her way to the office in the center of the school, Pacey spotted her new friend Mike searching through his locker. She looked down at herself to check to make sure she didn't have any dirt on her shirt. After tucking her side swept bangs behind her ear, she made her way towards Mike.
He must have heard her coming, because he looked up like he had been caught in the act of doing something very wrong. "Hey there, Pace." They had only met hours before, but he automatically gave her a nick name. It was the only nick name that she could stand being called and it even lifted her spirits a bit when she heard it spoken by him.
"Hi. What are you digging for?" She glanced from his locker to his face, and smiled calmly. He returned the smile and pulled out a thick literature book. Pacey said, "Ouch, honors English? Now I'm glad I was high for the final exam last year."
"Ha-ha, very funny Ms. Cole."
"Oh god Mike, don't call me that. Actually that's why I came to see you. Well no, that's a lie. I just kind of saw you standing here and decided to stop by. I'm on my way to the office. Would you care to walk me there?"
"Oh boy, I wish I could, but I have an early dismissal."
Pacey's heart sank, "Oh, okay then. Well I guess I'll just go-"
"Shesh Pace, I'm kidding. I was going to (Mike put up two fingers from each hand and made air quotes) 'go to the bathroom' and head out to the back for a smoke."
Excited that he wasn't actually leaving without her, Pacey nodded more than was really necessary. "Screw high school. Screw Mrs. Paschal. Screw going to the office. Let's hit the dumpster. Wait that wasn't what I meant-"
Mike laughed, "Wow, they really need to change the batteries in the carbon monoxide detectors."
Pacey playfully punched him in the arm, inches above his elbow. "Screw you, too. Come on, let's go." Pacey started to walk towards the south entrance of the school when she felt long fingers strongly gripping her wrist. She winced at the pain and turned around sharply. As she turned Mike stepped forward and they bumped heads. Mike simply said "ouch" while Pacey took the cursing approach of expressing her pain.
"Sorry, Queen Pacey," (another one of Mike's nick names for her) he said in an urgent tone. "I, just, don't you have to go to the office?"
"Yeah, I'm supposed to but seriously, kid, live on the edge a little bit. Crap, your grip is like, to put it in lamest terms, dude, you're strong." Pacey laughed at the blank expression on Mike's face. "I don't feel like going to the stupid office, I mean it would be the same old routine. Go in, sit down, and get detention. Tahdah! It's as amazing as when a little kid rides down on his bike screaming 'look mom, no arms!'."
"Don't make fun of me, Pacey. Gosh!" Jokingly, Mike put his palm up as in 'talk to the hand' and then put his other hand on his hip. "Speaking of kids, I am older than you, so technically you're the kiddo." He stuck out his tongue as a sign of victory. She laughed at his stupidity, wondering how old he really was, then ran to catch up with him, shredding her hall pass in the process. Assuming her kid position, she tossed the pieces in the air and twirled in a circle as they fell like snow down around her.
***
Once they got out the back doors by the rusty old dumpster, the cold wind hit them like freezing bullets. It was still February, and the weather wouldn't be getting any warmer until at least April. But once it got to be April, there would be rain pouring from the clouds almost every day. But for now, the temperature was a goose bump inducing thirteen degrees Fahrenheit. Pacey had forgotten to stop by her locker after she had seen Mike in the hallway. Unless she wanted to run back to her locker, and risk getting caught, she was stuck in the cold in only a short sleeve shirt and jeans.
Mike, on the other hand, was wearing a cheap gray suit jacket with patches surrounding the pocket. Beneath his jacket he wore a sweatshirt with the hood overlapping the suit jacket. Clearly, the harsh winds weren't affecting him at all. He stood with his hands shoved in his pockets staring at his low tops. The white strip along the top had been written on over the past months, and now all the colors blended, creating what looked like tie-dye.
Pacey moved her hands up and down her arms quickly to create friction. The movement only made her a few degrees warmer. When Mike looked over at her and saw her teeth chattering, her lips turning an even more pale color than usual, he smiled his average smile. Pacey glanced at him from behind her bangs and said, "Dude, what? It's freezing out here."
"You're telling me that Queen Pacey can't stand a little bad weather? Come on, Pace, that's totally lame," he then jumped off the curb and ran to the middle of the street. There, he spun in a complete circle screaming, "I love the cold! It's the best time to run a mile. Speaking of running..." He took of down the street and didn't look back until he had reached another entrance to the school.
"Mike, you idiot, come back! Oh my god, what are you doing? Come back!" Pacey was still shivering, and had begun to lose the feeling in her fingertips. Suddenly she began coughing, and not the kind of soft cough that a proper lady emits. She keeled over a little bit then quickly made for the dumpster. Reaching it just in time, she got on the tips of her toes, and hurled on one of the trash bags. She crossed her arms with the edge of the dumpster between her chest and her arms. Slowly she took three deep breaths, and heard running footsteps behind her.
"Jesus, Pace. What the hell happened?" Mike was ridiculously close behind her.
"My... My head hurts... is all," Pacey said as Mike reached and put a hand on her forehead.
"You don't have a fever, are you sure you're okay?"
"I told you, I'm fine. Just give me some space," she spoke with a prissy tone.
"Fine, sorry."
He decided to give her some space in case she turned around quickly, so he stepped back six inches. His left foot, then his right, reached the destination in perfect timing: Pacey's knees buckled from under her. She fell back, and automatically Mike moved under her and caught her before she crashed on the hard pavement. The catch was like that in a trust exercise where one person falls and the other catches them.
Slowly, Mike shifted his feet from their awkward position. Removing his left arm from Pacey's back, he rotated her enough so that his right arm went across the center of her back. Gently, he tilted her head so it lay nicely on his shoulder. Then he placed his left arm under her knees. He lifted her slowly off the ground and began walking towards his car, being extra careful so he wouldn't trip on the curb, sending them both down painfully.
Chapter Four
After five minutes of walking around the entire school, Mike, with Pacey still in his arms, finally arrived beside his car. After awkwardly removing his keys from his back pocket, he slid them into passenger seat lock and turned his wrist counterclockwise. He struggled to open the door, then imperceptibly slid Pacey onto the seat. Minding her limp body, he reached across her lap and found a toggle. The seat reclined when he pushed the toggle to the left. Once Pacey was lying on an approximate one hundred fifty degree angle, Mike removed his arm from near her lap.
After placing Pacey's feet on the dashboard in front of her, Mike closed the passenger door quietly and made his way to the other side of the car. He opened the door and sat in the driver's seat. Knowing that he had a school directory somewhere in the mess surrounding his feet, he began to search. Finished digging through the pile by his own feet, he glanced at the heap of papers on the floor below Pacey's legs. Visually rummaging through the dozens of papers, he noticed a sea green packet which he knew was the directory.
He checked to make sure Pacey was looking okay, then bent over to snatch up the packet. On his way back up he heard a cough, jerked his head up quickly, and smashed into Pacey's legs. "Crap!" he whispered, in case Pacey was still out. When he saw she was still quiet, he turned to look out his window to find the coughing person. At his surprise, and misfortune, he saw the principal, with his arms crossed across his suit covered chest.
"Mr. Callaway, is there any specific reason why you've skipped most of eighth period to hang out in your car?" He had a short beard that he believed made him look like a professional educator. As he stood there on the asphalt, preparing to interrogate Mike painfully, he put on a serious look that could only be described as frightening beyond belief.
"Well, um. You see, Mr. Stetson, I was at my locker to get my um," Mike lifted up the packet in his hand, "directory. As I was standing there searching I heard a noise coming from outside. So, being the concerned gentleman I am, I ran as fast as I could out the doors."
"Get to the point, Michael," Mr. Stetson said, voice drowning in boredom.
"Sir, yes, Sir. I'm getting there. And please, Sir, call me Mike-"
"I will call you Michael, and you get to the point of your story immediately!" Mr. Stetson shouted. Obviously annoyed at Mike's dumb humor, his cheeks began to redden. He took three slow breathes and when he opened his mouth to tell Mike to continue with his story Pacey wiggled in her seat. Mr. Stetson hadn't noticed anyone sitting beside Mike, and automatically bent down and peered through the window.
Pacey propped herself up on her elbows and looked around through squinted eyes. She saw Mike and smiled, but she cursed in her head when she looked through the window frame and saw the principal of her school staring at her amazed.
"Ms. Cole! I was supposed to meet you earlier in my office for talking rudely to Mrs. Paschal. For the fourth time this year..."
"Sorry to interrupt your rant, sir. But what the heck happened? Mike, why am I in here? And why does my head hurt really really badly?" Pacey was extremely confused. Dozens of thoughts were running through her pounding head.
Mike looked at her and smiled, then quickly turned back to face the principal, who too was curious of why they were in the car. "You see, what happened was... Oh yes. Well I ran out to see what the noise was and I saw Pacey leaning over the dumpster throwing up. So I went to go get the nurse, but right then I noticed she was about to faint. So I sprinted behind her and caught her before she hit the ground. It's freezing, and I didn't want to leave her out here while I looked for the nurse's office. So I picked her up and carried her here."
"And what were you planning to do after you got her in the car, Mr. Callaway?" Mr. Stetson seemed to be sucking in the story. For some odd reason he especially believed the parts that were lies.
Mike hadn't thought about what he was going to say. So he bought a minute of stall time by saying, "Excuse me a moment, I would just like to check Ms. Cole's temperature." Once again he put his palm to her forehead, and she looked at him through glossy green eyes. Her head still felt a bit warmer than usual, but better than before. He hadn't thought of everything he was going to say to Mr. Stetson, so he leaned over to Pacey, "Do you fell alright? Are you dizzy, does your head still hurt?"
"I'm fine. Really, trust me." She smiled weakly at him then laid her head back against the seat. Mr. Stetson began tapping his foot.
"I'm waiting for you to continue your explanation, Michael. Or should I just suspend you and we'll call it a day?"
"That won't be necessary, sir. Where was I? Oh yeah, so I brought her to the car and put on the heat because she looked really pale and her arms were freezing cold. So I was planning on driving over to the front doors to try and find the nurse's office but then I remembered that the gate to the front entrance is closed during school hours. Then I remembered I had a school directory in here and was going to call the school and have someone run over to help out with Pacey. Please sir, that's all that happened."
"Pacey," Mr. Stetson walked over to her side of the car and leaned over, "roll down the window, please." She searched on the door for the toggle to open the window, but when she jerked herself forward to click it, she felt suddenly light headed and fell back to the reclined chair's head rest. Mike leaned across her and pushed the toggle away from him to lower the glass.
"Pacey, can you try to answer a few questions for me?" He looked concerned, like he actually cared for one of his students. Which everyone who attended the school would know was a lie.
"Shoot," she murmured quietly. Mr. Stetson kneeled on his expensive fabric covered knee to be able to hear Pacey better.
"What is your full name? Can you tell me that?"
"Pacey Lynn Cole..."
"Good," Mr. Stetson had a broad smile.
"Sir," Mike began in a voice that reminded Pacey of the suck-up kid in her geometry class. "I think that we'll be okay to go back to class now. So-"
"Ha-Ha! You don't think you are getting off the hook for skipping half of eighth period, now do you? Oh no, you are seriously mistaken, Mr. Callaway. I want both of you to report directly to the Office so Ms. Ostrander can fill out green slips for both of you." Green slips were the slips of paper that you got when you were suspended. You had to give one of the slips to each of your teachers for the days that you would be gone. Then they would give you a matching green folder of work that you would have to complete either at home or during In School Suspension (ISS).
"Uh, I have one question for you, Mr. Stetson." Mike was utterly confused. His head was cocked to one side, and one of his eyebrows rose high above the other.
"What is it, Michael?" Apparently the humor in Mike thinking that he was free to go had worn off. He had re-crossed his arms and was glaring down at Mike through slit eyes.
"Well, sir. I was just wondering, what is a green slip? I've only been at this school for two months and have never gotten in trouble due to my straight A's and disaster-free permanent record." Pacey hadn't known that Mike was new to the school. She just thought that he had classes on the opposite side of the school making it so they never crossed paths. She realized then that she still didn't know what grade he was in. It bothered her that she didn't know that much about him, and they had been hanging out during lunch for at least two weeks now.
"Well, Ms. Cole would you like to do the honors of telling Michael about the fun of green slips?" Mr. Stetson was enjoyed watching the smile on Mike's face fade away as he learned that he had just received his first ever suspension.
"For how long?!" Mike was furious, and was totally sure that his father would have the same reaction.
"Three days of ISS should teach you never to leave class for any reason besides using the lavatory or visiting your hallway locker. Now, get on up to the office, kids."
Mike opened his door and stood straight up with perfect posture directly in front of Mr. Stetson. He lifted two fingers to his forehead and saluted the principal while saying loudly and clearly "Sir, yes, Sir!"
"Your attitude suggests you want a fourth day of ISS, is that correct?"
"No, definitely not. I don't think so. Nope, not a chance. I think I'll just stick with three detentions." Mike smiled widely and scrunched his eyes together to add to the forced smile effect.
Mr. Stetson walked off towards the office building with his hands behind his back. It looked as if he was shaking his own hand, with a deathly tight grip. Mike crossed his eyes and morphed his calm lips into a crooked smile. He pressed the button that closed his window, then turned to face Pacey.
"We're screwed," he wasn't smiling anymore, crooked or otherwise. "I've never gotten in trouble in my life," then he started glaring, or at least what he thought was glaring. His version consisted of squinted eyes and his teeth clenched.
"Yeah," Pacey agreed with him, "we are definitely screwed."
Chapter Five
Pacey was sitting on the edge of her naked bed. She glanced over in the corner of the room and examined the piled sheets and comforter in a baby blue laundry basket. She decided that she would take it downstairs to the basement and wondered if her mother would actually come home that night. It would have been a lot to assume, and Pacey made a mental note not to get her hopes up.
It was a rare moment when Miss. Kraer, Pacey's mother, would arrive home. She usually only did three times a month. If it was a good month, she would come home five times, but no more. She worked full time at a local bank, and when the bank closed each night, she made her way out of the glass doors and to the newly paved street. From outside the building she would turn right, left, then right again, and walk for five minutes.
After she turned a final right, she would land herself in front of an old brick house. Lazily, she would walk up the walkway to the front porch in stilettos which would be whatever color matched her current ensemble perfectly. If they didn't match her two piece suit and skirt, they would go in sync with the accessories she wore around her wrists, and upon her thin, pale neck.
Clicking the silver key in the golden lock, she would push the door open to reveal a wide entranceway. Walking ten steps forward, dropping her purse on the oak table, she would sit down across from Him. He would smile His million dollar smile, with His fake whitened teeth. The kind of teeth Pacey despised, all because of Him.
He was the reason why she hated perfection. He was the reason why she wanted to be different. He was the reason why she wanted someone to be different with her. He was the reason her family was so fucked up.
Exactly nine years ago Pacey's father had walked into his wife's office, expecting to surprise her. An anniversary he wouldn't let be forgotten. It would have been the first time he remembered without being reminded. He accidentally dropped the bouquet he had been carrying, filled with Pacey's mother's favorite kind of flower; Daisies. He bent down on one knee as if he was going to propose to the cluttered desk sitting in front of him. He was definitely the one surprised, when he saw his wife's silk blouse lying underneath the fallen arrangement of Daisies.
Pacey hated Him so much for ruining her family. He had made Pacey's father leave. Mr. Cole was the only person that had ever understood Pacey, before Mike of course. And it wasn't as if her father ended his relationship with his two daughters and his slut of a wife, he ended his entire life. It was Him that made Pacey so irritable towards family.
Pacey's dad returned home to their old white house past three that night. He threw his keys down on the hardwood flooring and slammed his fists on a glass table which shattered under the pressure. Brooke and Pacey had been peacefully asleep in their freshly laundered matching pink beds (sheets and all). When they heard the crash of the glass table, they jerked awake and Pacey ran into Brooke's room. Brooke being two years older than her, Pacey (who was only seven at the time) thought she would be safer in her sister's bed. She crawled under the covers and Brooke wrapped her arms tight around her sister's waist.
More crashes came from the rooms below the girls as their father smashed more precious items. He stomped through the kitchen and took such heavy steps that as each foot hit the ground, the china in the cupboards shook. He threw open two of the shaking cabinets and snatched a stack of plates with his muscular hands. He picked the first one off the stack and threw it straight to the tile floor. When it met the surface it smashed into six oddly shaped pieces. He repeated the process with all seven of the plates in his hands, then grabbed another stack of smaller plates.
After all sets of china in the cabinets had been destroyed, Pacey and Brooke's father stepped across the river of glass in his boots. He found his keys and drove off through the night.
When Pacey's mom returned home the next morning, she had a tear stained face and was wearing the same clothes from the day before. She walked in the house and ignored every question thrown at her from her two confused daughters. All she had with her was a small pocket pack of pink scented tissues, and a newspaper article clenched in her fist.
She tried to resist as Pacey ran towards her with her arms outstretched looking as if she was going to give her a rib crushing hug. She looked at her other daughter, who stood at the top of the wide staircase, with her small hands held tightly against her mouth. Pacey hadn't been preparing to hug her mother; instead she ran up to her and snatched the article from her clutches. Mrs. Cole tried to grab the torn beige paper from her daughter, but she had already read the title aloud, and tore the article in half. Quickly, she ran up the stairs and violently knocked her sister aside.
"Pacey," Her mother screeched. Her voice broke as she screamed, "Honey, come back down here!"
"Ma," Brooke began, as she picked herself off the ground and made her way down the steps carefully. "What-" Brooke's heart stopped beating, as she eyed the torn newspaper that was crumpled on the ground before her. She glanced over at her mother, who had crawled into a corner of the entranceway. She was holding her legs against her chest and buried her face between her knees. Brooke crawled over to where her mother was positioned, and placed her frail arm around her mother's shoulders.
Once Brooke had successfully brought her mother up to bed, and cleaned up the broken glass in the kitchen, she settled down in a living room chair with a roll of tape and the two pieces of the article. After she taped the halves together, she read silently to herself. She had only read the first sentence, when silent tears began forming in her eyes.
Man Jumps From Nearby Bridge
By: Charles Robin
At six thirty this morning, a forty-three year old man was found on the shore of nearby Brent River by an elderly couple. "When we found him he wasn't breathing. I yelled up to my husband to call an ambulance," said Courtney Sanas, who was walking along the beach with her dog when she spotted Bryan Cole splayed in the sand.
Brooke was continuously wiping her tears with her mother's tissues. But one stray tear fell upon her father's name. She gasped, then wiped her finger over the words to try and dry it. Instead, she smeared half of the paragraph. Making a mental note to go out to buy another paper later, she continued to read, crying harder than ever.
The bridge under which Cole was suspected to have jumped from is an hour ride from his suburban home in Canesville. Local bartender Gordon Vincent from "Jonny's Pub", told reporters that he had spoken to Cole only half an hour before. "He told me that he was considering jumping from the bridge," said Vincent. "But working at a pub I know that a lot of drunks say they will do something, but never end up doing it. Still, I tried to convince him it was a stupid idea. He left and swore to me that he would make his way home. I guess when it comes to strangers, promises don't have to be kept."
Vincent ignored all questions he was asked when it came to why Cole committed suicide. "Other than me, only two other people know why Bryan threw away his life. They know who they are, and I hope they feel extremely ashamed for their sins. That's all I have to say." Vincent walked back to attend to customers, and didn't say another word to any of the other reporters.
Surprisingly, a note written on a bar napkin was found in Cole's car, which was pulled over beside the bridge he leaped from. It was addressed to "My family, or at least what remains of it..." The friendly bartender, Gordon Vincent, agreed to deliver the note to the office of Bethanne Kraer, Cole's wife, for her to read this morning in private.
When reporters showed up at her office for questioning, she slammed the door on their faces, with tears running down her rosy cheeks.
Chapter Six
Pacey fell asleep on her naked mattress while thinking about the past. It was a good thing, too, because when she let her mind wonder, she would be reminded of horrid parts of her life. She didn't want that to happen, especially since things had been going so well.
The last couple of months had been filled with Mike. They had a planned schedule for each day of the week. On Mondays, they didn't have much time together since they had school. But they took advantage of every minute they could spend together. During lunch hour, they would either sit in the courtyard and lounge against the building walls or go out to eat at any of the nearby fast food places.
Pacey had started asking questions during Monday lunches, and by this time she knew almost all there was to know about Mike Callaway. From the foods he covers in ketchup to the number of schools he's been to (quite a few, by fourteen he stopped counting). She also knew one of his deepest secrets; that when he passes away he hopes to be reincarnated as a flying squirrel. When they decided to get fast food on Mondays, they would take turns ordering for one another. Pacey knew to always order some kind of cheeseburger with fries and lots of ketchup. Mike would simple order Pacey a salad, and any meat was to be taken off.
"I'm guessing that since I ordered no meat that you're a vegetarian?" Mike asked on one of their first Monday lunches.
"Yup," replied Pacey, "That would be correct."
"Ah, and since when, may I ask?" he asked as they made their way to their usual table in the back.
Pacey exhaled, "Since my wicked stepfather decided to surprise me and Brooke by buying a pet pig one summer a while ago. We thought he was just, you know, trying to buy our affection. Then around a month later we saw Mr. Piggles being grilled on the fourth of July. Brooke and I swore to never eat pork again, in memory of Mr. Piggles. She only took it that far, but after another incident with our "pet" chicken named Furry, I decided not to eat meat altogether."
Mike made a face as if he was thinking this over in his head. "Makes sense to me."
"Mhm. Hand me that fork, please." Pacey said, eyeing the utensil beside Mike's tray. He looked up at her and she pointed to what she wanted. Nodding, he dropped it with a clunk on her tray, and ripped open a fourth packet of ketchup for his French fries.
"Oh, merci beaucoup, Monsieur," she winked.
"Avec plaisir, mademoiselle." Mike returned the wink. He smiled.
Pacey was open mouthed, amazed. "You speak French?" She couldn't help but make it sound like as much of a big deal as she thought it was.
"For four years. I'm a little rusty, since I didn't get to take it this year, but oh well. Beggars can't be choosers, right?"
"Right. Wow, I mean seriously, wow," said Pacey with her mouth open, hoping she didn't look as lame as she felt.
"What, you don't think I'm smart enough to be almost fluent in another language? Thanks, Pace," Mike put on a hurt face and looked down at his burger. He took a ketchup packet and added another glop beneath the bun.
"No! I mean I figured you were smart... I mean you are smart but you don't look like the kind of person... By that I don't mean that you look stupid because you don't... Anyone who looked at you wouldn't know your stupid or anything... Wait, I didn't mean that! You're not stupid and you don't look stupid... It's just that I didn't think you would-" Pacey hadn't taken a breath since she began rambling.
"Pace, calm down! Sarcasm strikes again! You really need to work on not being so damn gullible," He threw a fry at her, which she blocked with both hands shielding her face.
"Okay," she said quickly as placed her hands to each side of her salad bowl. She took a deep, loud inhale and let the air settle in her lungs. The oxygen molecules made their way through her blood to her brain which was absorbing the information it had recently received. Pacey held the breath for another ten seconds, then exhaled even more slowly than she had inhaled. Feeling much better now that she didn't feel as if she was choking, Pacey picked up her fork and stabbed a shred of lettuce.
Mike took a large bite of his burger and managed to drip ketchup down his chin and onto his tee shirt. "So," he said with his mouth still half full, "a chicken named Furry?"
"Don't make fun of me. I was young. What would you have named a chicken?"
"I'm definitely not making fun of you. And I would name it Casper." Mike must not have noticed his red dribble, since he paid it no mind.
"Casper? As in the friendly ghost?" Pacey still hadn't eaten the lettuce on her fork. She lifted it halfway to her mouth when she realized that she had forgotten to put on the dressing. Setting down her fork she said, "And you were too making fun of me. Admit it!"
"I was not making fun of you! You are my role model, Pacey Lynn Cole. Well, except for your grades, a C in Computers? How do you do it?" The drip on Mike's chin was slowly making its way to his neck. It would eventually drip down to his tee shirt and join the other marks to create an impossible stain.
Pacey couldn't stand watching the drip slowly fall from Mike's chin. She took a napkin and wrapped it around her index finger. "Hold still, you weirdo," she said as she leaned towards him. Carefully she wiped at the ketchup until there was nothing left on his fair skin. Pacey dropped back into her seat and tossed the napkin at Mike.
"Thanks for that," Mike said to his tray, "mommy."
Pacey smiled and said, "your welcome, deary."
Starring down at her still full salad bowl, Pacey picked up her ranch dressing packet and tore the corner. After squeezing the packet until it was completely empty then once again picked up her fork. After scraping the fork prongs on the edge of her bowl, Pacey stabbed a ranch drenched piece of lettuce and ate it. The tangy taste of the dressing teased her taste buds.
Chapter Seven
Tuesdays were close to the same as Mondays. The only exception was fourth period study hall (A week after Pacey had met Mike, a new marking period had begun, meaning new schedules). Pacey would find a pair of seats in the 'study hall room'. The 'study hall room' could basically be explained as a small, lame library without any computers. On each of the four tan and white striped walls were six individual shelves. Organized by reading level, subject, then author, you could find only books that had won awards in the past. Books that didn't have any awards were thought to be lame, stupid, and not worthy of being in the 'study hall room'.
After Pacey arrived in room C264 she would remove her mp3 player from her bag. Subconsciously she nodded her head along with the beat of whatever song was playing on full volume in her ears. About ten minutes after Pacey got to C264 Mike would usually walk in. On one particular Tuesday Pacey had been waiting for only three minutes when she heard a smack on the door of the room. Through the clear glass she saw, with perfect timing, Mike fall to the floor and drop all of his belongings on the floor.
Pacey couldn't help but laugh really loudly, which was not only forbidden, but made her sound like a preppy cheerleader. Instantly she forced a coughing fit to try and disguise her laugh. After mouthing an apology to Mrs. Rodriguez, she opened her novel and peered over at Mike still in the hallway. He was, obviously not for the first time, having a chat with Mr. Stetson. And the look on the Principal's face led Pacey to believe Mike was being lectured. Finally when Mike was released from Mr. Stetson, he entered study hall looking mildly embarrassed.
"With my luck, you all saw the.. Um," Mike searched for the right word, "incident." He placed his bag on the oak table where Pacey was sitting and pulled out his chair.
"Of course. And with my luck you heard an obnoxious laugh erupt from this very room when you toppled over." Pacey slid a folded piece of paper into her book and closed it.
"That-That ferocious laugh was yours?" Mike whispered incredulously. He started to laugh when he noticed they were being watched by the study hall teacher. He said, "Sorry", but then was given the universal sign for 'be quiet'. Mike turned to Pacey, rolled his eyes, then smiled weakly. His smile disappeared when he whispered, "I don't get it."
Pacey began, "Well, I mean it was hilarious. I saw you right when you fell and-"
"That's not what I don't get, Pace." Mike said without a trace of a smile on his face. Instead his face screamed seriousness and Pacey automatically asked:
"Then what don't you get?"
"I don't get how smashing into a door on accident is a crime. How falling to the ground after said smash deserves a detention!" Mike was no longer whispering. Mrs. Rodriguez noticed and tapped him on the shoulder as a warning. But Mike turned very quickly and spat in her face, "I know! Be quiet! Just hold on a damn minute, okay?!" While Mike turned back around in his seat, Pacey watched as the teacher stuck her arms down to her sides and stomped back to her desk in the front of the room.
"Mr. Stetson gave you a detention for that?" Pacey asked in amazement. She looked back at Mike's angered red face. "What actually happened?"
"I was on my way here and I stopped by my locker to put a book away and I heard, well, I'll tell you what I heard in a minute. But I started running here so that I could tell you. I wasn't exactly paying attention to what was directly in front of me because my head was turned towards the stairs. I saw a girl stepping down the first stair but she placed her foot in the wrong spot. Suddenly she started to fall so I attempted to turn while I was running to try and help her before she tumbled down.
"But since I was looking to the side I didn't realize that I was right in front of the glass door so I kind of, well. You know what happened next."
Pacey was open-mouthed. "Wait, what was so important that you were running here to tell me?"
"Hold your horses, cattle, and all other potentially harmful livestock," Mike snickered at his own joke, while Pacey curiously watched him. "What is this, a staring contest?" Pacey nodded subtly without blinking. "Bring it on, biznatch."
Pacey said, still not blinking, "Did you just say what I think you said?"
"Depends, did you think I said 'biology'. If so, then no, I definitely did not say what you think I said."
"No, did you seriously just say 'biznatch'?"
Mike nodded like a bobble head on the dashboard of a truck riding down an old gravel road. "Yes, I believe I did. Do you have a problem with that, Queen Pacey?" The nodding stopped.
"Absolutely not. It's just that... I don't know. You sounded like the kind of people that I hate."
"Please elaborate." He leaned in like a concerned therapist talking to a troubled patient.
Pacey took a short pause before responding. "You know the kind. The people who are overly happy about every darn thing. People who don't have a single smart cell in their body. Those that have never had to live in the real world, experience something unwanted, something horrible."
"What have you had to experience that has made you unlike the 'biznatches' who are so happy?" Mike actually did look concerned, as if it wasn't an act. Pacey didn't know yet how serious he really was about the matter.
"It's a long story, and I don't really want to talk about it right now." She set her arm on the table in front of her and slowly placed her head upon it.
"Okay, and if you just don't want to tell me at all, I understand."
"It's not that I don't want to tell you, I mean..." Pacey took a deep breath. "I'll tell you later. I just don't want to talk about it here. Not around these people."
Chapter Eight
Every Wednesday after school Pacey would drive her jeep to the bridge that crossed over Brent River. Mike would meet her here, after stopping by a local gas station to purchase a pack of cigarettes for them to share. The cashier on Wednesday afternoons was a stoner, for sure, and never bothered to ask Mike for identification. Together he and Pacey would lean against the guard rail and speak about what had been on their minds that day. Most of the time it was just Mike talking about classes and his word overload, while Pacey listened. Although she would nod every now and then while he spoke, Pacey would usually look out at the river and think of her soap opera past.
She still hadn't decided whether to tell Mike about her dad or not. It was always a sore subject. Why wouldn't it be? Pacey had only revealed her father's death to one other person. And that hadn't gone over so well. His reaction, well, it made Pacey's life even harder for her.
One day while Pacey was trying to gain the courage to reveal her secrets to Mike, she saw a shoe riding along in the river's slow current. The shoe was a dusty shade of gray. Both sides of the sneaker had a thick black stripe running from heal to toe. Every couple seconds the shoe would turn slightly to either the left or right. When the sneaker was within thirty feet of the bridge Pacey was able to guess that it was a men's shoe, and didn't belong to a child.
"...God I hate that woman, she always singles me out. 'Michael, pay attention! Michael, stop blabbing to your lab partner and continue with the experiment!'"
"Who?" Pacey asked dumbly. She had been lost in her own world, wondering about the lone sneaker drifting along.
"Hello? Have I been talking to myself for the past," Mike lifted his wrist and checked the time, 3:30, "forty-five minutes?" His expression seemed to be screaming "How rude!"
"Um, no. I've just been thinking... about things." Pacey glanced back down at the river for half a second before looking back up at Mike with a smile. Then she did a double take a checked back in the water. The shoe was gone. Pacey thought about running across traffic to the other side of the bridge to see if the shoe was still traveling, but decided against it. If there was another car/bridge related death in this soap opera called 'Days of Pacey's life', the ratings would go way down and the show would be canceled.
"Well okay then," Mike turned away from her and looked out at the river. Without looking back at Pacey, he reached into his sweatshirt pocket and grabbed a pack of cigarettes. Still not even glancing in her direction he held out the pack to her. Pacey was surprised that when she shook her head, he put the pack away as if he had actually seen her head move left to right.
Pacey lifted herself onto the tips of her toes and spoke quietly into Mike's ear, "I have something else to smoke." With a glance around she said quickly, "Come with me", jerked Mike's hand from the bridge railing, and started off running down to the end of the bridge's sidewalk, dragging him along with her.
When they had reached the front of an old fashioned pub, Pacey looked around again. Mike wrenched his hand from her fingers and shouted, "Where they hell are we going?" But Pacey just grabbed his other hand and pulled him behind the building. "Are you planning on mugging me? Because I don't have any cash on me if that's what you want."
"Be quiet, will you? No, I'm not going to mug you," as she spoke Pacey looked around at the lot, taking in her surroundings. They were leaning against the brick back wall of Jonny's Pub feet from a metal door with a sign indicating that it was an exit from the bar. Across from the door were two dumpsters with the words "Property of Jonny's Pub" scribbled along the sides in white paint that contrasted with the green metal.
"So then, why are we back here? Ugh, I hear rats," Mike scrunched up his nose and groaned. He turned his head dramatically to his right and blinked repeatedly at Pacey. But she was too busy looking around at cigarette butt littered alley. "What are you looking for?"
"My backpack, I thought I brought it with me when we ran here." Pacey pushed off from the wall and jogged to the front of the pub. Mike followed behind like a well-trained dog. After searching the entrance to Jonny's and failing to find the bag, Pacey ran back around to the dumpsters. Once it was clear the bag wasn't there she turned and slammed the bottom of her fist on the brick wall. Pacey shifted so her back was once again on the wall, then slowly sunk to the ground cursing. Between curses she said loudly, "I must have left it on the bridge! Crap, how could I be so freaking stupid?"
Mike walked to her side and bent his knees. Brushing his hand along the ridged brick he said, "It's just a bag, Pace. I'll go get it. Hold on." He stood and went to turn the corner of the building but stopped to say, "Oh, and if any innocent people walk by, don't mug them. Tchao!" He smiled broadly and ran back to the bridge.
After he had turned the corner Pacey set her knees in front of her and laid her arms on top of them. She let her head fall on her arms and rocked her head from left to right. Inhale. Exhale. It will be there, right where I left it. Inhale. Exhale. It felt like it had only been three seconds when she heard the pounding of Mike's sneakers against the pavement. "Feel free to call me amazing, I like hearing the truth." Mike set the backpack to the left of Pacey before sitting cross legged on her right.
"I wouldn't want you to get a big ego, or anything. But thanks."
"So I'm going to ask again, what the hell are we doing here?"
"Well I said I have something else to smoke, didn't I?"
At that, Mike raised his eyebrows dramatically. "Did you? I wasn't listening. I was too busy talking to myself. For forty-five minutes!"
"Sorry, okay! I was just thinking about other things."
"Yeah, like what?" Mike cocked his head, interested.
"Nothing important. Anyway, like I said, I have-"
"Why do you have so many secrets?"
"I don't-" Pacey began, but Mike interrupted again.
"Come on, Pace. I mean, like, ask me anything and I will give you an answer. I can't guarantee it will be an honest one or even a good one but I will still answer."
"You can ask-"
"I've tried asking, but you just always say something like 'Not now, maybe later' or 'There are too many people around, I don't want them to hear' or even 'It's too complicated for you'."
"I'm sorry, it's just that-"
"You know what? Forget it, I don't care anymore."
"No I'll tell you but-"
"I said forget it. Whatever, Queen Pacey. I guess you just won't reveal your secrets to the underclassmen." He started to stand.
"What do you mean underclassmen? You don't-"
"Seriously, Pace, it's not like we're still total and complete strangers. I understand if there are some things you don't want me to know. But you make it seem like I am a stranger and I'm asking you to reveal your whole life to me."
"Mike just let me explain some things-"
"Don't bother." Mike walked around the corner and vanished from Pacey's view. She just stared in amazement at where his head had been only seconds before. What had just happened? Pacey was incredibly confused and wanted to just sit where she was for hours to think about it. But she knew she couldn't, she had to run and tell him. Tell him everything. She had to reveal to Mike Callaway secrets that she had only told one other person before. Rowan. She had had a whole lot more time to prepare for the revealing of her life when it came to Rowan. A slow and steady delivery, set into portions. But this time would be extremely different. Pacey would have to spill her whole life out as quickly as she could, to stop Mike from leaving her, physically and mentally, like so many others had done before.
But it was not possible. She knew she would not be able to tell all her secrets at once. It would be too confusing and much too difficult for the both of them. Difficult for Pacey because she would be talking on and on about the things that had happened to her, her family, her loved ones. Also difficult for Mike because he probably wouldn't know what to say. Pacey decided just to leave the pub alleyway and go back to the bridge. Forgetting entirely about the joint in her bag that had brought the two teenagers behind the building in the first place, Pacey picked herself off the ground, snatched up the bag, and headed back toward the bridge.
At each corner of the building Pacey would lean against the wall and peer around the corner like a spy. When she and Brooke were little and still friendly towards each other, they would play spies. Together they would think up a mystery, and then creep around the house finding clues and suspects while wearing all black. Together they solved every case, then giggled when their mother commented, "Oh, you two are so mischievous."
In the back of her mind Pacey pictured her and her sister playing their silly game:
Come here, Pacey! I found a fingerprint!
Mommy did it! Mommy's the thief!
Peering around the door to Jonny's Pub, Pacey had more quick pictures flash in the back of her brain:
The headline: Man Jumps From Nearby Bridge.
The picture of a tall man, eyes closed, mouth open, being covered
from head to toe with a white sheet on a stretcher.
Mom co
Short story by kaytee
Read 680 times
Written on 2007-08-20 at 22:28
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