No one knew the real tragedy, though. It wasn’t a matter of why he was different with me, but rather, now… I was different because of him.
Winter
Seven Years Ago
“Ugh, I hate this!” I whisper-yelled, yanking out my earbuds, tossing them onto my bed, and stopping the audio-text.
No one used algebra.
No one.
I’d have to sign up for tutoring or something. I needed to keep my grades up or my father would pull me out of Thunder Bay and send me back to Montreal.
Why was I having such a hard time with this? All my other classes—no problem. I mean, math had always been hard, but the teacher… She talked fast and relied a lot on her Smartboard, projector, and all the other little gadgets that were of no use to me.
And it was pretty clear she didn’t want to change what worked for twenty other kids for the sake of one. I thought my mom could talk to her—help her get a clue—but I didn’t want my father to find out. He hated me being an inconvenience as much as I did.
I pushed my laptop, calculator, and braille keyboard away and crashed back onto the bed, taking my earbuds with me. I plugged them into my phone, found my music app, and clicked on one of my playlists. “Is Your Love Strong Enough?” started playing, and I closed my eyes, my mind immediately going to the choreography I always envisioned myself dancing to for every song I listened to. I loved dancing so much, and if my mom wasn’t asleep, I would blast some music downstairs and get to it.
When I danced and all I heard in my ears was the music, that was where I wanted to live forever.
I laid there, moving my head in a little figure eight motion to the music, and without thinking, my hands and arms started moving a little, too.
What if he was watching me right now? He could be in my room, feet away, at this very moment.
But, no. It had been a week, and I hadn’t heard anything from him. He was probably at my sister’s party, and it was probably just a prank. A one-time thing and some kind of joke he regularly pulled. I wanted to ask someone about him—tell them what happened—but I had no idea how to start that conversation, and other than the smell of the pool on him, I didn’t have much to go by. He’d whispered and hadn’t said anything personal. Like where he lived, his family, his friends, his age… He was tall, though, and his whisper was deep. He was undoubtedly older than me, if even just a couple years.
I hadn’t told my parents, either, and I knew how irresponsible it was not to, but… I knew the consequences if my family thought I was in danger.
And he hadn’t hurt me, so…
That didn’t mean he wouldn’t, but I didn’t know. If I told, he wouldn’t be able to come back.
And I wasn’t sure I didn’t want him to.
Stupid girl. The guy terrorized me over the course of a half hour, and instead of running for cover, I was drinking the Kool-Aid.
I was always stupid. I still thought I was going to be a dancer, I ignored the pain my father caused, because this house was my anchor, and I kept my intruder a little secret, because it excited me. Because I never had a secret, and it made me feel like… I didn’t know. A teenager, maybe?
The song ended and the calm whir of the next one began to play, but in the moment of silence between, I noticed the smallest, barest vibration underneath my bed. The same one I felt when the garage door opened or the landscapers brought in their equipment to work on the yard and trim the trees.
I pulled out my earbuds and propped myself up on my elbows, training my ears for what it was I felt.
Arion had left hours ago for Devil’s Night, some weird tradition of youth mischief the night before Halloween most of the world had forgotten about except our little town, and my father never came home, probably spending the night in the city again.
I remembered my mother’s words about a mistress he kept, but I pushed the thought away and stood up. Other than me, my mom was the only one in the house, and she went to bed with an Ambien an hour ago.
Walking to my door, I pulled it open a silver and listened. Maybe my mom got up or Arion brought friends home.
But now I could tell the vibration I’d felt was a slow whine, but constant and melodic. Up and down, long and slow.
Music. Someone was playing music.
I crept into the hallway, the pulse under my foot growing strong the closer I got to the sound. My heart beat harder, and I descended the stairs, finally recognizing the song set at a really low volume. A Bush song from my playlist in the ballroom.
I pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth, trying to stifle the fear and excitement raging through me. I should call for my mom. I should wake her up.
But I ignored that voice in my head and pushed through the ballroom doors. The song played from my system next to the wall at a low volume, and I didn’t know if it was the monsters we all feel when we’re scared or some sixth sense I didn’t believe in, but I could feel someone in the room.