After he showed her the picture of the Monster, a cold and creeping dread reached across her body. She’d never been a fan of horror movies, but they also never bothered her. Never affected her on a visceral level. She’d see a monster and say “That isn’t real,” putting it into some sort of mental box and never letting it escape. But the immediacy and power of Dark’s drawing plucked something deep inside her.
It wasn’t fear, necessarily. But it also wasn’t not fear.
Dark must’ve known he’d rattled her, because he spent the rest of the time in the skate park—not to mention the entire bus ride back to St. Paul—showcasing his lighter drawings. A cartoon man and woman, holding an umbrella as tiny hearts fell across the page like raindrops. A spot-on caricature of a biology teacher nobody at the school liked. Dark had lingered over that page for a second before, finally, flipping to a fairly graphic depiction of two anime characters Claire didn’t know. Whatever made him pause on the picture of the biology teacher quickly gave way to embarrassment, which got Dark so tangled that he closed the notebook and mumbled, “Well, anyway.”
Now, as she stared at the ceiling and listened to the intermittent sounds of cars passing on the road in front of the carriage house, the words she wanted to say to him came quickly.
Are you dangerous?
It seemed dramatic even to her, alone in her bed. Dangerous. It was a drawing. A pretty damn good one, too. She’d tried art freshman year, and even among the advanced students, she hadn’t seen a drawing with the complexity of Dark’s.
She hadn’t seen that sort of ferocity, either.
Claire tried to shake herself off this path because, frankly, it was one she’d been down a thousand times in the last year.
Seeing a problem where there wasn’t one. A weapon, aggression in the smallest degree, even malicious intent, in every and any possible movement. Nothing was sacred or safe, not anymore. She lived her life on the head of a pin, an exhausting balancing act.
But she hadn’t been right. Not even once. Every single time she was wrong, and the threat turned out—once again—to be something broken deep inside of her. Something that she had no idea how to fix, or whether fixing it was ever going to be possible.
She fell asleep at some point. And when she dreamed, it mimicked her reality once again. The entire night she felt like she was being chased by something she could not see.
Chapter Six
THE NEXT MORNING CLAIRE WAS UP EARLY, CLANKING around in the kitchen loud enough that Derrick appeared and sat down at the table with a cup of coffee. It took a long time—two cups’ worth—before he finally said, “It’s five thirty in the morning.”
She didn’t want to tell him that she couldn’t spend another minute in bed, that she wanted to get to school as quickly as she could to give Dark a once-over. To really look at him. At that notebook. To decide.
Basically, she knew it was nuts and she wanted to get out of the house before Derrick got a whiff of it.
“Skating was good,” she offered up. Derrick nodded, head in his hands. “I don’t know if they’ll ask me back, though.”
“Why?”
She didn’t have a reason, now that he’d asked. But eventually she’d freak out in front of them. Eventually she would create a reason not to go out. Maybe she already had. So, she shrugged and plucked a box of cereal from the cupboard instead of answering.
“Those boys don’t know what to do with themselves around you,” Derrick said. Before Claire could object, he added, “They seem like good dudes. It could be worse. You could be hanging out with the wrestling team again.”
Derrick chuckled when Claire spun around to glare at him.
She’d never “hung out” with the wrestling team. Yes, she had threatened one particularly obnoxious guy named Chris when he’d made a comment about the “evolutionary position” of women and their need for protection. He was lucky that she hadn’t knocked him out right there, honestly. Coach O came to apologize and when he saw the fire in her eyes, he asked her if she wanted to be the first female state champ in the history of North Carolina. She could do it, he said, just needed a little training.
After that, the wrestlers—Chris especially—gave her both a wide berth and a respect that made Claire think good old Coach O had run them into the ground. Either way, Derrick never let her hear the end of it.
“I never once hung out with a wrestler, let alone a group of them,” Claire said, picking the marshmallows out of the box of cereal and eating them one by one. “Besides, they were all terrified of me.”
“With good reason,” Derrick said.
It took a few seconds and then he casually said, “I know basketball wasn’t realistic this year, but have you thought about going out for track? I’m sure some workouts or something are coming up in the next month or two. You’ve always been fast as hell.”
Claire didn’t wait for Derrick to finish. She was already thinking about the crowds, not being able to see each person, to make sure that she was safe. Nothing but screaming and chaos and the constant sense that everything could end before anybody could stop it.
She shook her head quickly, trying to muster up some of Derrick’s same casualness as she put the box of cereal into the cabinet.
“I don’t know, we’ll see. Can I get a ride to school?”
Claire charged up the front steps two at a time, expecting to see God and Leg standing at the top, just as they had been the day before. When they weren’t and instead a bunch of girls were watching her side-eyed, she felt the first flush of foolishness.
The second came only a few seconds later when she saw God standing in the doorway, clearly amused, at her rushing a group of sophomores like she was on a SEAL team.
“I think you seriously scarred them forever,” God said. The girls were still staring at Claire with what she now saw was complete and utter bewilderment. “Like, they may need to go see the school counselor.”
“I was . . .”
What? Her initial plan had been to come and ask God and Leg about the notebook, about the drawings—to see if they shared a look. Or reacted in any way, subtle or significant, just something. Now, standing there, she saw the flaws in her reasoning. Dark was their friend. She was overreacting. Again.
Take a few breaths and regroup, she told herself.
“Is Dark back?”
God sighed. “No. They got him for two days this time. So, it’ll be Monday.”
“Is he . . .” Claire didn’t mean for it to be a dramatic pause, but it happened all the same as she figured out what to exactly say. “What’s with that notebook?”
God shrugged. “I mean, first things first. It’s not normal for him to show it to anybody. So, you obviously made an impression on him.”
Claire must’ve looked upset, or at least confused, because God reached over and touched her on her shoulder. “Hey, that’s a good thing. Trust me.”
Claire stepped closer to God as the bell rang and the girls at the top of the stairs pushed by them. God did not seem in a hurry, though. He scanned the street, as if he expected to see someone—Dark, perhaps. Claire couldn’t read the expression on his face. It could be concern. But it could very well be nothing. A teenage boy trying to muster the energy for another early morning of high school.