Entry #516353, added on 06-20-07 @ 6:16 pm EDT
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| Chapter Nine | Entry #516353 |
I try my hardest to avoid my mother the next day. Eric stops by and I put in a CD and turn it up as loud as I can so that I won't have to listen to them talking and laughing. I figure that going out at this point is probably a bad idea, not just because of the threat of insane scientists, but because of the threat that my mother silently posses with her presence.
But soon my stomach is growling and I know that I'll have to go out for food before I start getting dizzy. So I open my door silently, praying that my mother will be in her room or outside, where she won't hear it. I slowly tiptoe down the hall, turn the corner into the living room, and see her sitting on the sofa, watching some cheesy Lifetime movie.
Maybe she won't notice me, I think. Yeah, right.
"Bethany," she grumbles before I can get to the kitchen.
I turn around, trying to look unconcerned, like I was last time she confronted me. But I don't feel that way this time. I just feel afraid. "Yes?"
"Your doctor didn't call me yesterday. How was your appointment?"
At first, I'm shocked that she asked this, as oppsed to screaming in my face for showing up late again with Wren as my shadow. But then the shock shifts to cold-hearted rage. Does she even realize what she put me through? Does she know that when she gave her consent to having me put into a tube that she was condemming me to death? But maybe she didn't even consent to anything. If Dr. Holland was in on it, surely his secretary was, too, right?
"He said there was nothing wrong with me," I lie, after asking myself whether it would be ok to tell her or not. That would be not.
She nods. "You're not feeling sick?"
"No," I say flatly. I think she was hoping that I would answer that I hit my head harder than I thought and that was why I've been hanging out with the likes of Wren Stoner.
"Are you going out tonight with that boy?" she asks casually, but I can tell this is important information to her.
"Would it be ok, if I did?" I ask angrily, without thinking about it first.
"Yes," she says, standing a little straighter. She looks proud of herself, like it took all her strength to say this.
And yet, somehow I'm not at all surprised. Why should I be? I knew she would give in eventually. She didn't like Morgan at first, either. She didn't think she was dangerous, like she does Wren, but she thought that Morgan was a bad influence. She thinks everyone is a bad influence in one way or another.
"I'm not going out today," I tell her.
"Oh. Ok." She looks slightly disappointed that I haven't taken advantage of her newfound sanity. "Morgan called earlier. I think you were still asleep. You should call her back."
"Ok."
She turns and resumes her position in front of the TV.
I make myself a sandwich before returning Morgan's phone call.
"Hello?"
My mouth is full when she picks up the phone, so I speak around the food. "Hey."
How she could tell it was me, from that grumbled, food-covered word, I'll never know.
"Where have you been?" she shrieks. "I've been calling you all night. I thought you'd died!"
If only she knew. "Morgan, would you stop being so dramatic. I was out."
"Out where?" she demands. "You went out without me? Ugh. I hate you."
I supress a giggle. I know she's not acutally angry, she's just jealous that I was out without her. "Sorry."
"Wanna go out today?" she asks.
"Not really," I say. What if they came after her too, just because she was with me? Maybe Wren and Sebastian could come with us. No way. Morgan would never go for that. "I'm tired. I'd rather stay in."
"Tired?" Her voice holds a slight pang of suspision. "Why are you tired?"
"Because I can be," I say before hanging up on her.
I'm still tired when Monday rolls around. Moragn asks me over and over what's wrong with me and I answer again and again with, "I'm fine."
But I'm not fine. I'm nervous. I keep thinking about the people around me that could be working for Dr. Holland or his little buddies. It doesn't scare me. It just makes me nervous.
As I'm walking out of fourth period, I spot Wren at the end of the hallway. Morgan has her arm laced through mine and she's blabbing about some guy who's asked her out, and I know I have to get her away from me somehow.
"Morgan, I need to go talk to Mr. Lucien." This is my english teacher, who's classroom just happens to be in the direction of Wren's current location. "I need to ask him the guidlines for that research paper. Why don't you ask that guy for a ride home so you don't have to wait up?"
Morgan doesn't think twice before taking my advice, and before I know it, she's bolted.
As I watch her go the opposite direction from where I'm heading, I notice a disturbance in the crowd heading for the doors. While everyone is moving toward the exit, there seem to be a few people who are moving away from it. I ignore it, but when I turn back to Wren and see that he is also staring at the ripple in the crowd, I turn back.
Two figures are pushing through- one with dark hair and a sweater vest, the other with a comb-over and short legs.
I spin around, pretending that I haven't seen them and race toward Wren. It's practically impossible to push through the river of students that are moving against me. Normally, I'm polite in the halllways, always saying sorry or excuse me, but now is really not the time for that.
When I reach Wren, he grabs my arm and tugs me away without a word. I know that the men have watched us take a turn into an almost empty hallway, and that they are following us. I assume Wren is also aware of this after we've taken our sixth or seventh sharp turn and ended up in the deserted wing of the school.
This wing used to be the only one when the school was built, but now it's just dead weight. They don't bother to turn the lights on because nobody goes back there. It's just a bunch of empty classrooms, just waiting to be torn down.
We stop in a short hallway that's empty but for a staircase to our right. Unfortunately the staircase stops about ten steps up. From there on, the concrete seems to have collapsed.
Wren glances around nervously as we hear the sound of hurried footsteps somewhere off in the distance. Noticing the small gap under the stairs, Wren pulls me toward it and guides me into a corner, where I stand with my back where the two walls meet, with Wren covering me with his large body.
"Why are they here?" I whisper, a little too loudly with the intent of making sure that Wren heard the question. But in a space like this, even our breathing echoed.
"Why do you think they're here, Beth?" He answers impatiently.
I realize that now is not the time for sarcasm, so I ignore his tone. "When did you notice them?"
"After fourth period," Wren says, leaning back to see behind the stairwell. "I saw them while I was passing through the office. They were getting visitor passes."
I push aside my urge to know why he was in the office and try not to think about the irony of two sick murderers, like the men that are trailing us, getting visitor passes in the administration office.
Wren faces me now, and I can feel his breath on my face.
Before I can think too much, I ask, "Why are you doing this?"
He examines my face with his one visible eye. "Doing what?" He breathes.
"Why are you helping me? Look at what it's come to." Even as I say this, I know that this may not be as bad as it gets. Yeah, so what if I was paralyzed and stuffed into a tube? Who cares if I'm being followed by two creepy scientists and a doctor who may have many more accomplices up his sleeve?
Wren doesn't answer me. I can feel the heat of him everywhere and breathe in his scent on impulse. His face is so close to mine that our noses are grazing eachother.
I see now that, in the end, he's the only one I can trust, it seems. I don't know who's on their side. But I know that Wren is on mine. My hands react of their own accord to this realization, grabbing small handfulls of Wren's thick shirt as leverage- something to hold on to to make the fear go away.
As I'm deciding my next move, a dark shadow crosses through the hall and terror strikes me. I let out a painfully loud screech and Wren spins around, his hands going out to his sides as a shield.
Wren's body relaxes all of a sudden and he turns back to me. "It's okay," he assures me. "It's just Sebastian."
Leaning to the right to look over Wren's shoulder, I can now make out, in the dark, the face of the boy that I met just yesterday. My breathing becomes regular again.
"He's gonna get us away from here. I wasn't really sure how to get us out without them noticing and following us." His face is grave. "Though, they're probably just going to follow us anyway."
I think about going home to my mother. I should tell her about this. What if they come and knock on the door again, like they did last time? When she opens it, will they be as kind as they were the first time? Or have they lost their patience with me and my friends, and decide to off the only family I have?
"Don't make me go home alone."
Wren's face just seems to grow sadder when I say this. It's not as if he can watch over me all the time. Even if he can see my window from his house and watches me go to and from every class, he has to rest sometime. He has to live his own life. He can't just stay and protect mine.
But maybe, just for this one afternoon, he can.
"Have dinner with my family," I say, quickly. "Stay as long as you want, just don't leave me alone."
Wren seems to understand how desperate I am. Yes, I am an independent girl, and I can stand up for myself. But sometimes it's nice to have a big, bad boy there for you.
Wren nods and turns to Sebastian, who grunts, "They left the building, but I don't know where they disappeared to." His gaze shifts to me. "They're not giving up."
"They have no reason to," Wren comments. "They need her for their little science experiment." His words are dripping with disgust.
We follow Sebastian out of the deserted wing, Sebastian going ahead of us into every room to confirm that the coast is clear. As far as any of us could tell, they wouldn't be showing up at the school again that night.
We were quiet all the way home, the three of us huddled into the front seat of Sebastian's tiny Ford pick-up. It was the size of a matchbox. I guess I should have felt uncomfortable, being squeezed in that close between Wren and the door. But all I could think is, This is boy is never going to stop saving my life. |
© Copyright 2007 GryffindorGurl (UN: magicfreak11 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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