Everlong: (Book One of the Everlong Trilogy) (11 page)

But Dexter wants to see me after school. I concentrated on that thought and stuck two fingers up at her in my head.

There was a loud slap of paper as Mr Partridge threw my pad back at me.

‘I suggest, Ms Anderson, that if you want to pass your A-levels you at least have the common decency to listen in class. Now, where was I? Yes,’ he said, putting his fat yellow finger to his lips, ‘that’s right, the Spanish Inquisition. A very useful tool as many Moors and Jews….’

How I hated Mr Partridge at that moment.

I ripped the front page off my pad, screwed it up, then dropped it on the table in front of me. I sat upright, my eyes staring straight ahead. Anyone looking at me would have thought that I was paying attention to Mr Partridge's wonderful lesson. Now and again I scribbled a few words down, those that had entered my brain quite by accident, although nothing was really soaking in at all.

It felt like dying, from the inside out.

Finally the bell rang for end of school. I grabbed my pad, pen and book and stuffed them into my bag and darted for the door. I couldn't talk to Sam and I certainly wasn't going to look at Amber. I couldn't, I may as well have written "I'm meeting Dexter after school" on the white board.

I bounded into the nearest toilet, giving Amber time to leave, shutting myself in the farthest cubicle. I sat on the toilet lid, my stomach churning, my hands sweaty. I rubbed the palms of my hands up and down my jeans to dry the sweat off, my legs bouncing up and down as I counted the minutes.

How was I going to hold it together and have a conversation with him?

Once the chaos had died down outside, I left the cubicle and made my way over to the basketball pitch at the back of the school. My stomach was rolling and I felt sick with anticipation.

The sky was darkening quickly, the sinking sun hidden by a curtain of dark cloud. The bitter wind howled and raged as it tore across the pavement, cutting through me to the bone. I slipped away from the crowds and headed towards the out buildings containing the basketball court.

I was alone.

My body had been dull to anything that was going on outside of my own self for such a long time and yet now I shuddered as I felt something dark and dangerous lurking in the air. I wrapped my arms around my chest and concentrated on getting to Dexter.

I turned the corner. Amber and Sara were leaning up the wall, sheltering themselves from the biting wind.

My heart seemed to stop beating. My panic rose into my throat where it wriggled and squirmed as it tried to scratch its way out. It was telling me to run. Run. Do something!

And then it fell back into my stomach, landing heavily, taking my breath away as the truth became clear. How stupid had I been to believe Dexter had wanted to see me?

I'd been set up.

I was burning up, despite the cold, and little pearls of sweat were beading on my palms. My heart rolled in my chest and I couldn't breathe. I thought I was going to pass out.

Keep walking, I told myself, keep those legs moving one on front of the other. Focus on that, nothing else, just make sure those legs keep moving.

I kept my head down, my eyes glued to the floor.

I started to pass them, the panic thumping my chest and tears building up at the back of my throat and behind my eyes. Don't cry. DO NOT CRY! No one was ever going to see me cry. I wasn't going to give them that, they taken too much of me already.

'What's a matter Evelyn?' asked Amber. Her manicured nails dug into my shoulder and she spun me around to face her. I couldn't help it, I hadn't any energy left to fight.

'Ah, look Sara, she's going to cry!'

'She is as well....Oh bless her!' said Sara, her baby-blue eyes full of pity and amusement.

My chest felt like it was being squeezed by two giant hands. The panic was becoming too strong, rising within me like a tidal wave and any minute it would come crashing down and would knock me off my feet.

‘As if,’ said Amber, ‘Dexter would be interested in a skank like you.’

She shoved me backwards and I hit the wall.

The world was crashing down around me.

'Is there a problem ladies?' The voice was electric, shocking me back to life. I looked up to see a guy stood in front of us dressed only in a black tee-shirt and jeans, his hair scruffy and as black as the night.

'No problem,' giggled Sara, twirling her blond curls in her fingers, 'no problem at all!'

The stranger stepped forward and placed his hand on my shoulder. His touch sent a tremor through my body. My heart jolted. I took a gasp of air.

'Are you alright?'

I nodded weakly. 'I'm fine.' I said, only just managing to form words. 'Just not feeling...too well.' And I didn't. I thought I was going to be sick.

'No, you don't look so good,' he said, taking my face in his cold hand and tilting it towards him. His touch made my body tingle.

I looked up. His eyes were the strangest but most beautiful things I'd ever seen; a rainbow of light trapped in a diamond. Warmth flooded through me, and I lost what little train of thought I had. Those eyes. I was sure I'd seen them before. They were pulling me in. Holding me.

'Hey, come on, I'll take you home,' he said, wrapping his arm firmly around my back. He leant into me, his warm breath kissing the side of my face. 'Don't worry,' he whispered, 'I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to get you out of here, ok?'

I nodded. I couldn't think straight at all. I was being moved forward, but it felt like I wasn't moving at all.

‘I’m warning you,’ screeched Amber, to my back, ‘you come anywhere near me, or Dexter again, I swear I will fucking kill you!’

‘At least you’d do it properly,’ shouted Sara, before they both squealed with laughter.

My mind was swimming away from me, my insides were jelly.

'Maybe we should get you warmed up first, you're shaking. Do you fancy a coffee or something?'

I didn't respond, lost in the fog of my own thoughts.

'Okay, don't worry,' I heard him say, 'we'll find somewhere to warm you up.'

The next thing I knew I was sitting in a booth at a fast food restaurant with a steaming cup of coffee in front of me. I was vaguely aware that my arms were clamped around my body, my legs bouncing up and down under the table.

I fixed my gaze on the broken edge of the coffee lid, desperately trying not to look at the stranger opposite me.

There was something about him, something that I couldn't quite put my finger on, that made me feel like I'd known him forever. A faint recollection of something, a sense of deja vu maybe? It was freaking me out. How could I have known him? Surely I'd be able to place those eyes if I'd seen them before, wouldn't I?

'Are you warming up now?' he asked.

I nodded, and grabbed my cup with both hands. I couldn't look at him; I was too scared. Not of him exactly, but the feelings that were surfacing inside me. They were becoming too loud, too scary to acknowledge, and I knew, that if I looked into those eyes, he'd pull me in again and those feelings would just become even louder.

'I'm sorry,' he said, reaching a hand out to touch me. He must've heard me sucking in my breath because he withdrew it quickly as he thought better of it, 'I never meant to freak you out...I just...I just couldn't leave you there.'

'It's okay,' I said. I took the lid off my coffee and swirled it around the cup. 'You're not freaking me out,' I lied.

'That's good to know,' he replied, laughing weakly, 'I don't make a habit of picking up.' his voice trailed off, lost to his own thoughts.

'What?' I said, 'Picking up what?' Anger rose in me. Where did that come from? I raised my head to challenge him, but all thought was lost as my eyes locked on to his. They pulled me in, stealing my words.

'Are you sure you're okay?' he asked, reaching out to touch me again.

I pulled my hands away quickly but his fingers brushed my skin. His touch was intense, too much for my awakening body to deal with.

I hadn't felt anything for so long and now...now his touch was making everything really loud and too real. What was I supposed to do with it? In one fluid motion I grabbed my bag from the floor and pushed my chair backwards.

'I'm sorry,' I said, standing up, making sure that I didn't look into his eyes again, 'I've got to go.' I spun on my heels, knocking the coffee over the table, but I couldn't look back, I had to get out.

'Thanks,' I mumbled, 'and sorry.'

I ran out of the restaurant.

'I can walk you home!' he called after me.

Outside rain was now pelting down. It quickly soaked through my jacket to my skin. The cold was biting and yet I didn't want to go home. I didn't know where I wanted to be, where I belonged.

I wandered the cold streets, my mind floating above me like it belonged to someone else, and all the time I kept replaying everything in my head, over and over again...I will fucking kill you…As if Dexter would be interested…I’ll fucking kill you…And the stranger, the stranger with the rainbow eyes. It ran like a play in my head, like it had happened to someone else.

Somehow I found myself at home.

Home; that was such a strange word that should conjure up feelings of belonging, or warmth, of love, and yet, for me, it just made me feel even more lost.

With nowhere else to go, I let myself in.

I went into the kitchen and looked at the clock on the wall, its hands counting down the seconds and I could feel them slipping by with my life.

I dropped my bag on the floor and staggered up the stairs. I stripped and stepped into the shower, in the dark. The red hot water burnt my flesh, blasting me clean. I staggered out of the cubicle and crawled into bed, still wringing wet. Pulling the covers over my head, I prayed for a peaceful night, for the shadows to leave me alone and not taunt me.

And for once, the night was kind to me; it cradled me to sleep, letting me stay there, untroubled until my alarm bleeped at seven in the morning.

I felt different, like I, I mean what made me me ,my essence, was fluctuating in some sort of limbo. I didn’t want to get up, but I didn’t particularly want to stay in bed but it seemed as if my whole body had stopped working. I felt like stone, stuck in my bed, unable to move. But as I lay there, my hand lying on my chest, I felt my heart beating inside me.

And I knew something had to give.

The need for change pulled at my insides.

I'd had enough of being comfortably numb.

Josh

I leaned over the bridge and looked out at the river. I was stood at the spot where Evie had jumped, the place where everything had changed. I was feeling more miserable than ever as the rain tumbled down, washing everything but me clean.

I'd been watching Evie for days now, following her around like some love sick puppy, despising myself for how pathetic I was, and the longer Death kept me waiting, the more pitiful I was becoming. Why wouldn't Death just take me, deliver me from this madness?

My only redeeming quality had been my determination to stay away from Evie, my resolution to stay in the shadows. But now that resolve lay in tatters, trampled under my own big feet.

I couldn't help myself, seeing those girls taunting her, how was I supposed to walk away from that?

And yet, now I wasn't so sure.

What had I done?

The image of my dissolved wings, scorched into the flesh on my back like a brand, burned with the fire of my thoughts. The feel of her flesh lingered on my fingertips, the smell of her skin on mine.

I didn't know what I was supposed to do, what I should be doing with these feelings that were pulling me in different directions; wanting, no needing her, like the air we breathe, and yet not wanting to get close to her because I was under a death sentence.

And what was the point of it all anyway? Evie didn't know me, couldn't bear to look at me. Why couldn't I just stay away?

I deserved the pain as punishment.

The clock tower of St John's began to chime nine o'clock. I turned away and headed back over the bridge, trying to hammer my thoughts out with every heavy footstep.

This was Hyperion's fault, seducing me with those lies!

But, then, what if he was right? What if I could become a Fallen? Maybe, just maybe...

I needed to see Death. I was calm now, not full of anger after being taunted by Hyperion. She would have to see me. I'd done what She'd wanted; I'd reminded him of his obligations, now I'd go and see Her, talk to her, appeal to her better nature.

I headed back to my apartment, grabbed the lone sheet of paper I had kept from the book Hyperion had given me, the words "The Fallen" scrawled over it in red. I'd show Her that and then, perhaps, She'd tell me what it all meant.

I climbed up to the roof of the apartment block. I looked up at the sky and released my wings, let the pain rip through me as they erupted from my back. The bitter sweetness of it engulfed me, almost bringing me to my knees as pain transformed into beauty.