Betrayal Read online

  The minute I stepped outside, I knew the temperature would hit over a hundred degrees on this late October day. It already felt like ninety.

  Nevada, notorious for extreme desert heat, lived up to the hype. I'd be forced to enjoy the blaze in this insufferable long sleeved top, the price of avoiding intrusive questions. I stifled a groan.

  Bethany honked the horn one last time as I shut the front door behind me, and smiled when she saw me in the driveway. Although her golden blond hair was piled high on the top of her head, some of the wisps that escaped the bun blew softly in the warm breeze like feathers, making her appear angelic.

  “Sorry I’m late. I had trouble starting this thing again.” Bethany referred to her black Plymouth Neon. She looked in the rear view mirror and backed the car out of my driveway as I listened to the gravel sputter everywhere. She turned her gaze to me for a second before turning back to the road. “You look really tired Delia.” I sighed and rolled my eyes in her direction for pointing my dark circles out as my mom already had.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  Bethany kept her eyes glued to the road but her eyebrows were furrowed in the center of her face. “Is something bothering you?”

  “No,” I lied. I wanted to tell her about the dreams so badly, but I wasn’t sure this was a good time to bring it up.

  “You look like you're a trillion miles away,” Bethany said. I sighed again. Bethany knew me so well. She knew that I was preoccupied with something.

  “I’m still here,” I said.

  “I’ve been thinking. You should join me in the parade this Sunday.” Bethany said, throwing a quick glance at me.

  “Who me? No way,” I laughed. The parade Bethany referred to was the ‘Living Legends’ Parade, a bizarre spectacle of the town’s folk dressed up in historical costumes dated back a hundred and fifty years or so. The parade always drew a large crowd. Bethany always participated and seemed to really enjoy dressing up in corsets and prairie dresses. I couldn’t be bothered with all the frilly outfits and the gawking tourists.

  Bethany giggled. “The parade will be great fun.”

  “I’ll pass if you don’t mind, Beth. Besides, I have to work all day Sunday.” We pulled into the senior parking lot. I closed the passenger side door and fell into step with her as we made our way through the lot. Her long, flowing, ankle length skirt whipped in the delicate breeze. I checked the time on my cell phone and groaned. We were twelve minutes late and Mrs. Biden, our History teacher, would have our heads.

  Suddenly, something flashed in the corner of my eye, and I stopped where I stood. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Whatever I thought I saw disappeared the second I turned around. Although the hallway was empty, it felt like Bethany I weren’t alone as we stood in front of Mrs. Biden’s classroom door.

  Bethany raised an eyebrow at me and said, “Is there something wrong?”

  “It’s nothing… I mean we’ll talk at lunch, ok.” I didn't want to rush through my explanation of my sacred visions.

  Bethany cocked her head to one side and said, “Are you sure?”

  “Yep,” I said, stepping in front of her and twisting the door knob. We’d better get in there, or she’ll give us detention for sure.”

  In History we reviewed the ways of life of women in America at the turn of the century. The subject usually held my attention because it caused quite a stir with the girls. We couldn’t see ourselves living in such an unprogressive time without a voice which equaled inequality. Today, I found concentrating on what Mrs. Biden discussed impossible. My mind was drawn to my arm. I couldn't get past the inconceivability of my injury. I peered at my hand resting on the opened page of my text, and realized that I was trembling. I jumped when Mrs. Biden called me by my full first name.

  “Cordelia, if you're done daydreaming, would you please tell the class what the suffrage movement was about.” Mrs. Biden’s harsh tone brought me back into the classroom. I answered as best as I could and strategically avoided one of her humiliating and tactless rants.

  For the rest of the morning I went from one class to the next reliving what I recollected from the night before. When it was lunch time, I made sure Bethany and I didn’t sit at our usual table of chatty classmates. If anyone overheard our conversation, I’m betting by the time the final bell rang, the entire student body would label me a freak. I decided to tell Bethany everything, the night of the storm and what I dreamt. Telling her would be a gamble.

  I barely waited for Bethany to sit down with her lunch tray before I began blurting my suppressed emotions. I scooted my chair closer to the table and leaned in toward her. My heart was pounding against my ribs and I felt the perspiration pooling in my shirt. “I’ve had this disturbing dream every night for the past two weeks,” I whispered.

  With a crooked smile, she whispered back, “Why are you whispering?”

  I sighed and shot a look to the ceiling in frustration. If Bethany didn’t let me tell her now, then I feared I may never tell her. Again, in a whisper, I said, “Just listen. I’ve been having a really strange dream.”

  “Every night, for two weeks?” Bethany asked.

  “Yeah, since the thunderstorm.”

  “You mean when you fainted, right?”

  “Well, no… not exactly.”

  Bethany raised an eye brow and asked. “What do you mean by ‘not exactly’?”

  My hands trembled and knots formed in my stomach as I contemplated telling Bethany the whole truth. She raised both her eyebrows and encouraged me to continue.

  “Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” I said, as I clasped my hands together in front of my face as if I was about to pray, but blew into them instead. “You’re going to think I’m going mad but…” I stalled again.

  “No, I’m not.” Bethany promised.

  I’ve never been so nervous talking to Bethany about anything before today. I shook with fear because I knew what I wanted to tell her would sound incredulous. She would think I cracked, and then she’d stop being my friend because she’d be afraid of me.

  “How can you be so sure? You haven’t even heard what I’m about to tell you.”

  “You’re right, I have no idea what you’re about to tell me, but I’m your friend, you can tell me anything.” I looked Bethany in the eyes and she willed me to go on. I prayed that she wouldn’t judge me or think that I belonged in a psych ward.

  “Ok,” I sighed. “On the night of the thunderstorm, I didn’t faint. That’s just what my parents told everyone. They didn’t want anyone to know I’d been struck by lightning.”

  Bethany repeated my words, but paused after each word. “Struck by lightning.”

  “Yeah, but no.” I took another deep breath. “The truth is… I wasn’t struck by lightning. The lightning came… out of me.” I paused as I watched Bethany. She didn’t even flinch. “Long jagged bolts of electricity came out of me.”

  There, I said it. Bethany’s reaction wasn’t what I expected. She just sat there, as motionless as a sculpture, and stared at me, her expression unreadable. Maybe she didn’t hear me.

  “Did you hear what I just said?” I asked.

  Bethany nodded slowly and said, “Yes, I heard you.”

  “I knew it. You think I’m crazy don’t you?”

  “No. The idea may seem crazy, but I don’t believe you are.”

  My hands stopped shaking and the tightening in my chest subsided and allowed me to breathe again. I had told someone, and they didn’t believe I needed to seek a psychiatrist. This was good. Bethany had stopped eating her lunch altogether, but she didn’t think I was out of my mind.

  “So tell me about the dreams.”

  “More like a nightmares, and really terrifying, and … strange. They started the night I came home from the hospital.”

  “Why are they strange?” Bethany asked.

  “They're so real and vivid, and I just wonder why I keep having them and what it all mea
ns. I mean it’s the same every night.” I watched for her expression, and again there wasn’t one. Bethany was like a closed book.

  “Tell me about it,” Bethany said, in a flat tone.

  I took a deep breath, and kept folding and unfolding, and refolding my paper napkin. “Yeah … um the dream is the same but it lengthens and gets scarier each night.”

  Bethany looked pokerfaced, but urged me to finish. “Go on.”

  “I’m with this boy, and we’re madly in love and everything, our feelings for each other are genuine, and intense. We’re strolling through the forest surrounding these mountains.” I said, motioning to the cafeteria windows where the Sierra mountain range was visible. “Suddenly these huge, vicious, and ravenous wolves start chasing us, and then they turn back into human beings when they’re killed.” I explained in a hushed tone so that only Bethany could hear me. She listened intently, and stared at me, narrowing her eyes slightly at the mention of the idea of werewolves.

  “The boy’s face is kind of shadowed in the darkness, but his features become clearer each night as if the moon is shining brighter. But the dream also becomes deadlier each night. I barely survive in it.” I pause for a second to catch my breath. Bethany is staring at me and sitting sort of frozen but I know she’s listening. “Evan, that’s the boy’s name in my dream, fights off these savage wolves with his super human strength. His strength is equivalent to a super hero’s or… something.” I had swarming bees in my stomach and chuckled at how ridiculous I must sound saying this out loud. “Last night while I dreamt, I fell out of one of the pine trees. While I was falling, I got hit and cut by the branches. This morning I woke up with this.”

  My eyes searched the entire cafeteria for a pair of eyes staring back at me, but were met only by Bethany’s blue ones. No one seemed to be listening to us. All the other students appeared to be engrossed in their own conversations. I felt the blood rushing back into my cheeks as I unbuttoned the cuff of my sleeve, and pulled it up as far as my elbow. Again, I took one last look around the room, and then I removed my poorly applied bandage.

  A loud gasp caught the attention of a few students, but after a second or two and a few odd glares, they found something more interesting to gawk at. The gasp had come from me. Bethany shifted her eyes from mine and stared at my forearm. She stared for a long moment as if waiting for the cut to appear, but it was gone.

  My stomach did flips and my heart was crashing against my ribcage as Bethany met my gaze again, looking even more perplexed than before.

  Neither one of us spoke for a few seconds.

  “I’m not crazy.” I said. “I had a deep scar right here.” I pointed to where my gash had been as I battled the urge to wail.

  Bethany cleared her throat, and then said in an even tone, “What did you say the boy’s name was?” She asked very slowly as if I was a five year old and she didn’t want to confuse me.

  “His name is Evan. I mean I.... uh... called him Evan in the dream.” Her face became ashen, and I wondered why this piece of information mattered to her. Bethany looked as if she had seen the waking of the dead. All of a sudden, she pushed her chair back, stood up and sprinted out of the cafeteria.

  Had I scared her so badly that she couldn’t bear to be around me?

  Oh God. I jumped up and ran after her. I needed her to understand that I wasn’t losing my mind, that these things really did happen, and that she didn’t have to be afraid of me. By the time I reached the double doors of the cafeteria, and stepped out into the corridor, she was gone. I let the doors close behind me. How could she have made it down the hall so fast? The hallway was vacant. Not a sound could be heard but the low roar coming from inside the cafeteria. I threw my hands over my eyes, and turned my head from left to right several times, and wept in silence.

  I dabbed my eyes with my sleeve, and then searched my arm again. Could I have imagined the gash and the pain? I sobbed, wiped the tears away again, and went back into the cafeteria. I tried to look inconspicuous but met a few curious glances from the student body. I kept my eyes on the checkered linoleum. They saw the spectacle and wondered what happened. I prayed no one would ask me. No one did. Everyone reverted back to chatting. By the end of the day, I’m sure the tale will be tall and along the lines of hair pulling.

  The pit in my stomach ached worse than the scar had, and I regretted telling Bethany anything. I couldn’t tell another soul or I’d undoubtedly be confined to an institution for the mentally insane. There I would probably live out the rest of my days chased by werewolves.

  Once I was back at our table, I noticed Bethany had left her cell phone beside her tray. Fantastic, I thought. I couldn't call her. I snatched the phone and the blemish free, crumpled ribbon of gauze and threw them into my bag. I dumped both our trays, and left the cafeteria. My first stop was the parking lot. Bethany's car was parked in the same spot she’d parked in this morning. I went to all my afternoon classes in a daze waiting outside of each, hoping to run into Bethany. But she never showed up to any of them. At some point I checked with our school nurse. She assured me that Bethany hadn’t been in to see her at all today.

  Finally the last hour was over. I waited a half hour by Bethany's car. I would have waited longer had I not been scheduled to work tonight. I called her home several times but only got the answering machine. I left a couple messages, but she didn’t return any of my calls. I walked the eight blocks to the gift shop. The hours dragged longer than usual.

  I thought about going over to Bethany’s house, but was skeptical of what her reaction would be of me showing up uninvited. I thought better of it, and caught the bus home as usual. I entered my house through the backdoor, and tip toed into the kitchen.

  I wasn’t prepared to be tackled with a barrage of questions regarding my day. From the living room, I heard the grumbles and low whistles escape my dad’s nose as the sports caster summed up the game. I detected a soft pattern of footsteps above my head. Mom preferred working out in her bedroom, and in the evening. The aroma in the kitchen was savory, something cheesy with plenty of onions; yet again I didn't have an appetite.

  A bright yellow Post It stuck to the center of a covered dish on the kitchen table, caught my eye. I got close enough to read the message without being seen from the living room. Bethany had called, and my mom took the message. Why hadn’t she call me on my cell?

  The note read:

  Delia –

  Bethany called.

  She said she’ll pick you up tomorrow after work.

  She asked that you hold onto her phone.

  Nice, I thought. No explanation on her disappearing act. I didn’t know what to think, but I was relieved that she wanted to meet up. We were still friends. I needed her, and I couldn’t bear losing her friendship. I was drained, and had no desire to dwell on it anymore tonight.

  I gave my dad a feathery peck on the forehead. He stirred a bit, but didn’t wake up. I heard the shower come on and knew I’d better get to my room, or risk running into my mom. I slipped into my bedroom unnoticed, and pretended to be asleep when my mom checked in on me. My light was off so she poked her head in for a quick second, and then shut my door.

  I was extremely apprehensive about falling asleep, and afraid that I may not survive the dream this time. A chill coursed through my body from the base of my neck to the tip of my toes. Although I was thoroughly exhausted from the accounts of the day, I planned to stay up all night. I spent the next couple of hours filling out my college applications – each one on the east coast, thousands of miles away from Nickel City. No one in this town would blame me for running.

  Fleeing this place was on every senior’s mind; even the juniors were prepping escape routes. We all had the same plan. Kick this old boomtown’s dust off of our converse and start living. As soon as I was done with the applications, I sealed them in separate envelopes, added a stamp to each and tucked them into my messenger bag. I would mail them in the morning.

  Both of my parents had finall
y gone to bed, so I turned my television on. I tried to find a movie that would get my mind off Bethany, the nightmares, and the current inside me. I scanned the channels and was thrilled that Somewhere in Time was airing tonight. It was an old movie I saw and fell in love with. I’m a hopeless romantic so of course it’s a love story. I loved it so much; I ran out and bought Bid Time Return, the book it was based on.

  It’s a story about a young writer, who sacrifices his life in the present by time traveling to the past to find his true love, who awaits him there. I cry like a fool every time I watch it, and I’ve read the book at least half a dozen times. There’s just something about the power of love, and how it transcended across time that was nothing short of mindblowing to me. I must have been an hour into it when exhaustion took over, and I fell asleep. I woke up the next morning feeling indolent. Groggy would’ve been an understatement. I blinked and blinked feeling like I was missing something.

  Like a smack across the face, it hit me, and I realized what was different. It was the first morning, in two weeks, that I hadn’t woken up frightened and gripping my sheets. I tried to recall the last time I woke up without having to shrug off the remnants of fear from being chased, and I couldn’t. I would’ve expected to be relieved but I wasn’t. I ached to be kissed, and held, and to be in love. I’d be willing to subject myself to the horrors of being nearly eaten alive just to see him up close, and to touch his smooth face again. I mourned the chance of it being over; I’d never see Evan again. I rolled over and peered at the digital clock radio. It read SAT 8:30 AM.

  I sat up with a jolt. “Ugh!” I forgot to set the clock. If I sat in bed for a moment longer, I would be late for work and Mr. Clarkson would be crabby all day. I did my best to bring myself to the speed I needed to get to work on time. I grabbed my bag, making sure my applications were tucked in it, and left the house.

  The sun seared my skin and I welcomed the warmth with a smile, but the sun’s rays weren’t what made me feel somewhat fortunate right now.

  Bethany was to blame for my optimism, even after dashing out of the cafeteria, obviously petrified. She probably acted accordingly with the madness I burdened her with. Clearly, Bethany realized she had gotten all weird, and that I’m still her friend no matter how daunting my mind seemed. She had always faced every challenging situation head on, composed and with an unruffled approach. This time she’d been blindsided.