King 03 - Restless (4 page)

“He’s wrong. It might seem hard now, but in a little while, he’ll be grateful. Really.” 

I could feel that much of Lela’s righteous fury was draining away. She quietly closed the door and sat down on the side of my bed.

“You want to tell me what brought this on?” she asked. “I know you, Tas. You’re not mean, you’re not spiteful. Maybe I forgot that for a little while last night—after all, he
is
my little brother. Come on. Talk to me.”

I was tempted. A part of me knew that if I poured it out to her—beginning with what I’d heard in Michael’s mind—we could still make it right. Lela had her own gifts, and one of them was the power of persuasion. She would be able to convince me to talk to him.       

That is not what we want. It’ll only be prolonging the inevitable. Send her away.

I frowned as unease swept over me. My stronger willed voice was beginning to sound more and more like Marica… and Nell. 
 

“Lela, you need to go. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t have anything against you or your family… or even Michael. This is about me and what I need to do. So just be there for Michael. Do what you can to help him forget about me. It’s for the best, I promise you.”

Lela stood. She gazed down at me soberly. “If you think he’s ever going to forget about you, you’re delusional.” With that she turned and left the room.

I spent the rest of the day hiding on my bed. When evening fell, I pulled out my laptop and opened a blank document.

Dear Michael,

Yesterday was the most painful day of my life. I’m writing you this letter that I’m never going to send because I need to put it down somewhere, why I did it and how hard it was. Is there a part of me hoping that one day, I’ll be able to send this to you, to explain what seems so irrational right now? Maybe. Today I can’t see through the hurting to any kind of tomorrow that isn’t gray and lifeless.

When I heard you think the other day that you weren’t sure anymore, that it was possible we aren’t really destined to be together, I knew I had to let you go. You’re too good; you would never break my heart even if you knew it would set you free. So I had to do it for you, let you go to find the person you’re really meant to love.

I love you, Michael. I always will
.

Tasmyn, it’s me. I missed you today… so much. I wanted to call before, but Lela said you needed some space. If that’s all it is… if I’ve been putting too much pressure on you, I’m sorry. But don’t cut me off. Email me, at least. Something. Anything. I love you. Call me.

For the rest of Christmas vacation, I remained stubbornly in hibernation. Anne came by twice, but I wouldn’t see her. I kept my cell phone on vibrate and checked messages at the end of the day. Marly called several times, asking if she could visit. Listening to her worried voice on the message brought on another crying jag.

And each night, I lay in bed waiting to hear the buzz of my phone that signaled Michael’s call. Agony engulfed me until the silence returned; only then could I breathe again. Eyes shut, I counted to sixty before I slowly reached for the telephone and listened to his pleading message. Each one ended the same way:
I love you. Call me.

I made it nearly to a point of equilibrium. The misery became part of me, and I began to operate on autopilot, moving through each day with a set mouth and blank eyes. My parents treated me with careful bewilderment. When I accidentally let down my wall enough to hear them, I realized that they had decided to let whatever insanity this was run its course.

A few days after the new year began, I had to face the challenge of returning to school. It had been hard enough in the fall, going back without Michael. But at least then I had still had the status and security of being his girlfriend. I wondered if I would return to being the invisible girl.

And then of course there was the problem of transportation. I had never walked to and from school in King; my mother had driven me for the few days before Michael had swooped in to change my life, and this year he had let me use his beloved ’65 Mustang.  

Obviously my parents had been thinking about it, too. The night before school resumed, my father broke into what had become typically silent meal.

“Tasmyn, your mom and I wanted to talk to you about school tomorrow.”

I swallowed whatever was in my mouth—all the food tasted the same to me now—and glanced up at him. 

“I figure I’ll be walking now, right?”

“Actually,” my mother answered, fiddling with her silverware almost nervously, “You won’t need to. I got a job. And it’s right near your dad’s plant, so we can carpool. You’ll have my car to use. You can keep driving yourself to school.”

I stared at her. “A job? Since when? And doing what? You’re not going to do your illustrations anymore?”

My mom smiled. “No, I’ll keep freelancing. I’m going to be working at a greeting card company, doing some of their artwork. The opportunity came up, and your dad and I thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to put away some money for your college tuition.”

College.  I closed my eyes for a minute, absorbing another twinge of pain. My plans for the future had been set for almost a year; I knew I would follow Michael to Perriman College. I had received my early acceptance last fall, and I hadn’t bothered to apply anywhere else. One more major item on my new to-do list.

My parents were looking at me with the now-familiar concern. “Are you going to be okay with all of this?” I heard and felt the undercurrent of guilt in my mother’s words.

I forced a smile. “Of course I am. I’m eighteen. Next year I won’t even be here. That’s really great, Mom.”

And so the next morning, I left an empty house, driving my mother’s silver sedan in place of the Mustang. I lingered at home as long as I could, hoping to avoid everyone at school. But the hallways were still crowded as I headed for my locker.

“Tas?” I heard the tentative voice before the solid wall of worry and confusion hit me. Amber was standing next to my locker.

I pushed down the memory of all the unanswered telephone calls from Christmas break and tried to smile at her.

“Hey, Amber.”

She moved as though to hug me before I heard her think better of it. I must have been giving off a pretty strong keep-away vibe. I opened my locker and began rummaging through the books.

“Are you… are you okay? I was really worried. And I missed you over vacation.”

“Yeah, well… you know how it is. It was—” A sudden lump in my throat made it impossible to continue. I leaned my forehead against the cool metal of the locker frame and tried to will the tears away. This just wouldn’t do.

I felt Amber’s hand on my back. “I heard. I’m sorry, Tas—but what happened? Anne called me, she said Michael was just—it was bad. She said you told him you didn’t want to see him anymore?” There was disbelief in her voice. 

I realized at that moment that Amber was really my closest friend. She knew my secret, and she had kept it. Her loyalty to me went beyond anything I understood. I could trust her, and suddenly I had an overwhelming need to share with her.

“Amber, I heard… he’s not sure. He was having second thoughts about us. But you know Michael. He would never do anything to hurt me. He’d stay with me out of—out of some misguided sense of right…” My voice trailed off into a sob and I bit down hard on my lip.

“Tas, are you sure that’s what you heard? It sure didn’t sound like he was second-guessing anything. Maybe you misunderstood?”

I shook my head. “Amber, I did what I had to do. I haven’t told anyone else about this, and I need you to keep it quiet. Please? No one. Not Anne, not Lela—no one.”

Miserably, Amber nodded. “If you’re sure. You know I can keep a secret.” A ghost of a smile played around her lips. “I think I’ve proven that by now.” 

I squeezed her arm in agreement. “Of course you have. And I’m sorry to have to put this on you. But it means so much to be able to talk to someone. Thanks.” The bell rang, and I slammed my locker shut. “I’ll see you at lunch?”

Amber nodded again before she disappeared into the crowd. Following suit, I hurried to history class.

The morning was better than I had hoped. No one looked at me strangely or treated me any differently than they had a month ago. I let down my guard just a bit, and I didn’t hear anyone thinking about me, either. Obviously the word about my break-up with Michael hadn’t made the rounds yet, which meant that I could stop worrying about that and focus on looking forward to my hour with Marica.

We had abandoned our scheduled meetings last year after I had willingly agreed to become her protégé, but we had planned to meet today after vacation. I was impatient. After Calculus ended, I took the familiar path toward the chemistry classroom.

I had just turned the corner when I was struck by an odd sensation that was both familiar and foreign at the same time. A tingle ran down my spine, and I shivered.

“Hey, stranger.”

Rafe. Someone else whose unacknowledged voicemails lingered on my cell phone. I figured that Amber had told him what happened with Michael. I turned to smile at him.

“Hi, Rafe. Did you have a nice break?”

He really was devastatingly handsome. His looks were often overshadowed in my mind by his annoying thoughts, but as his bright blue eyes bore into me, I couldn’t ignore it.

He shrugged. “It was decent. Pretty boring, I guess. Not much goes on here. My grandparents had a party. But whatever. How about you?”

What’s going on with her? I thought she was stuck for life on that guy. But she looks… different… wonder if there’s a chance for me now.

I barely managed to swallow back an angry retort. “Rafe, if you have something to say, just come out with it. I’ve got to get to class.”

His eyes narrowed. “So you’re listening in on me, huh? I thought you were all ethical and didn’t do that to people. But okay, let’s lay it all out. What happened to you? I heard you dumped the college guy.”

“I couldn’t help hearing you. Sorry.” I drew in a deep breath. “Yes, Michael and I have decided to… to take a break. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Rafe lounged back against the wall. “Funny, that’s not what I heard. It didn’t sound so mutual. Amber said he was like, suicidal.”

My throat closed against the tears that threatened. “What does ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ mean to you? I’ve got to go. I don’t want to be late.” I turned and moved away from him, but he easily caught up and fell into step next to me.

“You have independent study now, don’t you? I thought you were doing some kind of research project and didn’t have to meet with the witch anymore.”

I whipped my head around to look at Rafe. “What did you call her?”

“The witch. You know, it’s nicer than the other word. She’s not exactly the warm and fuzzy type.”

“You don’t know her,” I muttered. “She’s just very focused.”

“Yeah, focused. Right. Are you heading to the—
focused
one’s lair right now?”

I wheeled around and stopped. “I am going to meet with Ms. Lacusta right now to review my research project so far. And then I am going to lunch. I’ll see you there, but I don’t want to hear another word about Ms. Lacusta or Mi—anything that happened over vacation. Unless it happened to you.”

Without giving him the chance to reply, I rounded the corner and slipped into the chemistry classroom.

There was very little light in the room. Marica kept the overhead lights off whenever she was alone; she had told me once that they interfered with her thoughts. Instead she kept a small decorative lamp on her desk, and it threw off a soft glow all around her.

It seemed odd to remember how many times I had entered this classroom filled with dread. Today I only felt anticipation and a strange relief.

“Tasmyn!” Marica rose to her feet and opened her arms to me. “You don’t know how glad I am—” She stopped abruptly and stared at me. “So. It’s as I thought. Something happened over your holiday. I knew it—I could feel it, and you don’t know how close I came to calling you or trying to see you—but then I thought you would find me if you truly needed me.” She peered at me suspiciously. “Tell me. What happened?”