Winter Wakes

It was decisively impossible to stay awake in Psychology anymore; Dr. Harper’s droning could only serve to soothe one into a pointless, unsatisfactory sleep. At least before there had been a drive behind my wakefulness in his class. Truthfully though I can’t say I was sad to see it go. George Max hadn’t been to class in over a week. I welcomed the change with open arms just like I greeted my desk as my pillow away from home. Seeing him again after the last confrontation we had would have been unbearable, apparently I wasn’t the only one who thought so.

But there was a new addition to the class, a silent spectator who inhabited George’s old seat. No one noticed him but me, and frankly despite the draft he seemed to bring with him I still managed to sleep through the class. He was my unseen guardian angel—or demon. During the previous class session he had pulled my hair, not hard enough for anyone in class to notice his action, but enough for me to shoot straight up in my chair and cause just enough commotion for Dr. Harper to stop mid-sentence and offer up a surprised look in my direction. I had dropped my head, pretending to examine the notes I had taken; notes that trailed off mid-word to a long scribble. After class I had berated Simon for his childish actions, he merely smirked and stated I shouldn’t have made myself such an easy target. Of course.

I glanced around the room in a dazed state, class was winding down for the day and I was slowly pulling myself out of my comatose state. Most others seemed to be zoned out in their own little world. One kid two rows over was staring wide-eyed at his notes, head reclining on his fist. It wasn’t the first time I had caught him in such a manner; I envied him in a way, the only classmate I had ever encountered who had the talent to sleep with his eyes open.

Simon, unlike the rest of the class, sat sideways in the desk, back reclining against the metal bar that held the desk and chair together, head resting on his fist with one leg over the other as he watched me fixedly. I met his icy eyes, giving him a bored look. The scarred eyebrow arched as he smirked in return.

“This class may be boring and easy, but if you don’t pay attention you’re going to fail, Maggie dear,” He stated tauntingly. I turned back to my notebook with a frown. I hated it when he did that; spoke to me in a place he knew I couldn’t respond. It was obnoxious and drove me insane. But given his typical jackass-behavior I can’t say I was surprised. Moreover I should have expected it.

I ignored him for the rest of the class. It seemed to drag on for ages, antsy students growing more irritated as he continued to talk past our allotted class time, me being one of them. I couldn’t really afford to be late to or miss Algebra again, given my track record. The professor already deplored me, not that I could blame him. But by consideration I couldn’t rightly say my absences were by choice. George Max was to blame, if you asked me. My wrist injury that propelled me to the hospital instead of my first day of Algebra could undoubtedly be traced back to the ginger-haired boy; and I liked to think that my absence for the test the week before could also be attributed to him as well when given the death threats and confessions he had uttered to me in that empty classroom that day.

Finally, just as I was about to walk out on his continued drabble, Dr. Harper bid us all adieu. The brunette in front of me huffed as she tossed her book bag over one shoulder and scampered out. Her irritation echoed how most of the class felt. I marched past my professor without even a “Good day.” He didn’t deserve it.

Outside of the classroom a line of students sat or stood against the wall. None of them looked happy; their glares were enough to confirm that. I ignored their misdirected anger; it wasn’t the class’s fault Dr. Harper had no sense of time.

I opened the door to the stairwell quickly as I repositioned my bag on my shoulder. As much as I hadn’t wanted to take it, it cut at least a minute and a half off my trip to Algebra. The usual way, the stairs at the opposite side of the building would have included me walking around the building once outside, only to end up where the current set of stairs let out. This was the place I had sprained my wrist; the place I ended up right after George Max told me Simon had killed himself.

“In a rush there, sweetheart?” Simon called behind me.

I took the steps quickly, but carefully; recalling the last time a rush had propelled me into a dangerous haste down their slope. “Can’t be late to Algebra again. Yarborough will kill me.”

“Run, Forrest, run?”

“Shut up, Simon,” I deadpanned. “I really can’t be late.”

“Fine. I’ll catch up with you after Algebra then,” He replied sullenly.

I frowned, reaching for the door handle. “’Kay. See you then.”

I didn’t say anything else as I stepped into the cold and headed hastily for the math building. I knew where he was going, and I knew it wouldn’t do him any good. If anything it would just make him feel worse, make him more upset and stressed. There was no point in trying to stop him though, he wouldn’t listen. It was where he spent all his time when I was in classes, aside from Psychology; with the exception of that hour and a half block on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Simon’s primary residence when I was in class was the hospital; more specifically his brother’s room.

I understood he felt responsible—after George’s accusation—for his brother’s condition, but why would he go there? It just seemed like he was forcing himself to endure self-torture, pure masochism. But I couldn’t just ask him to not go, to stay with me. Especially not during Algebra; seeing Daniel Adriens would be no better, at least not in my eyes.

The class was awkward enough as it was without a third party joining in. It was hard to ignore the shifty looks Daniel tossed my way when he thought I wasn’t looking; or the general ignorance to my presence. He never asked questions, never sought me out, curious about whatever was said to him about our interactions. He was blatant about his desire to have nothing to do with me; I honestly could say was mutual. But the tension in the room was hard to ignore. He presumably thought I was crazy, or perhaps that he was. Daniel was, after all, the one with the large blackouts in his memory. What had he thought, waking up in a hospital at my bedside, in the same room as Katie? What had happened to him after his nearly two day black out the last time Simon slipped into him? The discomfort in the classroom had only grown since his second possession. He—easily—was part of the reason I hated Algebra.

I huffed a little as I climbed the steps to the building. Having stairs kick my ass just proved I was indeed out of shape. Factor in the cold air and you got the burning in my lungs that seemed to pulsate with every inhale or exhale.

“Hey you, Maggie.”

I looked up in response, lifting my head to the sharp voice that came from ahead. I came to a sudden halt, gripping the ice-cold railing a little tighter. Pins and needles prickled my stomach, teeth clamping down on my cheek. The puffs of white that exited my nose hardly clouded my sight, what awaited me at the top of the stairs was as clear as day, as unwanted as the plague.

“That is your name isn’t it, Maggie Walton?” Felicia Derby questioned. Her hands were crossed over her chest, brown eyes fixated sharply on me. She shook her head as a strand of platinum blonde hair fell from her loose braid into her face. “We need to have a little chat. You wouldn’t mind coming with me, would you?”

“A-actually.” The softness of my voice surprised me. “I have class. This isn’t the best time.”

She tilted her head slightly. “Oh really? Now seems like the perfect time. Come on, coffee. It’s on me.”

Felicia took a few steps towards me. I took one back. Her eyebrows raised in surprise, stopping where she was. The breeze pulled a few more strands of hair into her face as a slow smile slowly appeared. She pushed them back with a tanned hand.

“Oh, come on, it’s just coffee. I don’t bite. I’d just really like to talk to you,” She stated, her voice was the scary sweet, that of a cookie-cutter mom with a dark secret, not the kind voice of a genuinely good person.

“Look if this is about Daniel I just—“

“It is, Maggie, it is.” While her tone was menacing, the blinding white smile held its place.

“I’m not interested in Daniel, at all. Can we just leave it at that and be done with it?”

Felicia stared at me for a few seconds, I rifled through a catalogue of expressions and their meanings. No single one seemed to fit, but a combination of the figures for disdain and mistrust seemed to worked perfectly. She crossed her arms again, scoffing, “Really? You think it’s done, just like that? Either you think I’m stupid, or you are just extremely naïve. We can have this conversation in a nice warm coffee shop, while I feign kindness and other formalities by purchasing you a coffee, or we can hash it out down at the benches in the building’s alcove in this frigid weather. Your pick, but trust me, we are going to talk.”

Girls are catty, jealous, relentlessly heartless creatures when it comes to the opposite sex. Felicia was no worse than most, she just outwardly expressed the extreme and hateful feelings that plagued most of the masses. Aggressive and assertive, she wasn’t above confrontation. She was my polar opposite in that behavior. I hated conflict, I hated confrontation. I had merely tried to cut ties with Chassie and Darren after their betrayal, not face them about it. I didn’t want to. I preferred peace, I preferred calm. That was one nice thing about the funeral home; although there was a great deal of grief, it was generally calm.

But what about my life had been calm of late? I tried to think back, but nothing came to mind. Why was I still fighting for peace when obviously it wasn’t going to come my way anytime soon?

I shook my head, smiling sardonically as I looked away from her and towards the unwelcoming grounds. “I’ll take my conversation cold and fast, thank you.”

“I knew I wouldn’t like you, from the time you ran into me at Simon’s funeral, I just knew I wouldn’t like you.” Felicia stated, steps clapping loudly on the concrete as she passed me.

“Ditto,” I replied. I followed her silently around the building, towards the place I had been found by Katie right after I had sprained my wrist. I hated the cold, but it was rivaled by my extreme desire to get as far away from Felicia Derby as fast possible. My brain had reasoned that perhaps things would end quickly if we were stuck in such miserable, freezing surroundings; at least, that’s what I hoped.

I didn’t sit once we came to the private corner between buildings, neither did she. We both stood at opposite corners of the small space, tense and silent. Why was she so upset about Daniel, when obviously letting go of Simon had been no problem? My stomach churned uncomfortably at that thought; she hadn’t just let go, she had possibly aided in his death.

“I’m not going to try to sugar-coat this and say ‘I’d appreciate it’ if you stayed away from Daniel, we both know that’s not really what I mean,” Felicia stated, almost, almost pleasantly. “So I’m going to settle for, stay the hell away from him. If you don’t, trust me, you will regret it.”

I nodded, heaving a sigh, “That’s not a problem. I’m not interested in him. This is done now, right?”

“Do you think this is a joke?”

My eyebrows pulled together as I stared at her. “No? But I’m starting to think you are the way you won’t let this drop.”

My mouth fell open slightly; eyes popped open a little wider. Had I really just said that to her? Her reaction mimicked my own as we stood staring at each other across the small space. Statements like that were reserved for Simon, not for anyone in the living world. What on Earth had prompted my brain to allow that to actually be spoken? I was shocked.

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head rapidly. “I’m sorry, but I really have absolutely no interest in Daniel, can’t you understand that? He is the president of a fraternity for Christ’s sakes! In my eyes that is the ultimate level of jackass; but hey, I see how that could be appealing to you, given your other choice of guys like George and Simon. Can I just ask though, what’s so special about Daniel that you want him to be exclusive to you? I mean, you’ve sure got your field open considering you were screwing all three of them at the same time. Why do you even give a damn? You didn’t give Simon that respect when you were dating him, you had his best friend and the fraternity president to keep you entertained when he wasn’t looking.”

Felicia shook her head a little, pure hatred reflecting in her eyes as she looked at me, before taking a deep breath and looking towards the ground. My mouth needed a filter, I decided. This was getting ridiculous.

“Wow, you really have a mouth on you, don’t you? Although you didn’t just come out and say it, I got your little insinuation that I’m a slut, you obnoxious brat.” She spat. “As for your other little accusations, no one respected Simon, why should I? Not his ‘friends,’ not his teammates, not his classmates, his own family didn’t even respect him. He was a tool, Maggie, a tool that everyone used in their own way. You’re no different; I heard how you got into Brown, hypocritical little bitch. Daniel has always been my number one. He knew why I was dating Simon, he even supported it, because I had no emotional ties to that kid, for me, it’s always been Daniel. Daniel is the only boy in this school I would ever consider seriously dating, that’s why no matter how many girls he’s with, I still fight for him and he always comes back to me. But the other day after his little run in with you, something was different. He actually left me when I tried to make a move on him, and that’s never happened before. So you know what that led me to think? It’s something to do with you, and I’m right, aren’t I?

“And what the hell was this shit about George? I would never find myself involved with that creepy asshole in that way. Are you insane? Oh, wait…”

The cold air was suddenly less noticeable as the growing heat of pure frustration engulfed my body. Never in my life had I fought with an impulse to punch someone like I did then. Her last little insinuation was nothing compared to what she had so thoughtlessly spewed in her rant. “Liar. You’re a liar. People saw you drag George off the same way you did Daniel. How can you deny that? Simon didn’t deserve to be treated that way, by you or anybody. My god, you’re awful. What did he ever do to you? From my understanding he was a pretty good boyfriend, one you certainly didn’t deserve. That guy didn’t deserve how any of you treated him, he was so much better than all of you. He actually cared about you horrible people. Did you even stop to think how it would make him feel if he ever discovered how you really felt about him? Of course not, because you and your lot are just a bunch of self-centered pricks.”

I wished horrible things upon Felicia Derby; I desired to cross the small distance between us and do as Katie had once suggested: rip her stringy blonde hair out by the handfuls. I wanted to do her physical harm; I wanted to induce unbelievable mental anguish on the sneering harlot. I wanted her to suffer. I feared and loathed George Max; but I absolutely hated Felicia Derby. In such a short time span, she had made me see red like no one before her had. Negativity and ire were the only things I could channel as I stood opposite her. It took all of my self control not to go off on a stream of obscenities, or launch myself at her. I had never been in a fight before, but in that moment, I wanted more than anything to maim the heartless bitch.

“I was never with George in that way, are you dense? I never slept with him! So what if people saw us go off by ourselves? We were—“ Felicia stopped abruptly, face briefly lapsing into a shocked expression before a cold, blank mask replaced it. “Talking.”

Talking; my eyes lingered blatantly on her at the short, unbelievable and unsatisfactory response. “Really? ‘Talking.’ That’s your brilliant and believable explanation?”

She became rigid, eyes not leaving mine as we lapsed into a brief silence. After a few seconds her small, pouted mouth finally opened. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. I said what I needed to, so this conversation is over.”

Felicia began her retreat, slowly stepping towards the main sidewalk. A little voice nagging in the back of my mind prompt me to step forward.

“Hey, Felicia, it wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Simon’s death, would it?”

She froze, a jolt rippled through her. I watched the wind pull wisps of her platinum hair out of her braid, whipping them carelessly in the air. I hadn’t bit my tongue, and part of me really wished I had just then. Uneasiness rolled in like a storm cloud on a summer afternoon, sudden and ominous. Felicia turned; face unreadable as she slowly took a few steps in my direction. Every clap of her heels resonated through the air like a nail being hammered into a coffin. She stopped, hovering menacingly in the shadows of the math building.

“Stay away from Daniel. Stay away from me. You don’t know what you’re messing with,” Felicia’s voice was a low growl, one I had never expected to hear, one that turned my stomach into steel knots. I didn’t stop her when she turned a second time, leaving me alone in the small space between the buildings.

I scoffed after a minute, rubbing my painfully chilled hands together as I too stepped away from the buildings.

“Unfortunately, Felicia, I do.” I muttered.

Class was only five minutes in, but I lost my will to go. I wanted nothing more than to call it a day, and retreat to the comfort of my home. My mind was heavy, as it had been so often of late. Every encounter that took place seemed to leave some lingering unpleasantry when it ended, things I would no doubt dwell upon for hours or days on end. This was no different; this just had something different with it. I had to find Felicia again. Not with Simon, not a confrontation like with George. It may divulge too much, things I couldn’t allow him to learn. This would have to be on my own, this would have to be in secret.

The walk to the parking lot was tedious; I just wanted to sit and think, but home was a drive away, and I felt Simon deserved the courtesy of knowing I was leaving the general area. I recalled him saying something about he had to be near my location. A quick stop by the hospital generally wouldn’t have seemed like a big deal, but bits and pieces of my conversation with Felicia Derby would not leave me alone.

My car didn’t warm up by the time I reached the hospital, my fingers ached beneath the leather gloves I wore so religiously during the awful Rhode Island winters, my nose stung, and a quick glance in the rear view mirror confirmed it was the color of a tomato, a striking contrast to my pallid skin tone.

I shuffled hastily across the parking lot and through the sliding glass doors of the portion of the hospital I knew Simon was in. I relished the warmth that hit me as I crossed the threshold; the lobby was silent and empty. The first sound that came was the ‘ding’ of the elevator as it reached my floor, the second was the muffled thump of the doors right before they slid open; and the third was the sharp gasp I let out when they separated.

The heavy silence returned as I stood immobilized, staring. James Dreyton gazed down at me with familiar eyes, daunting in an entirely different way from his son. His crisp black suit was fitted perfectly to his looming figure, dark hair slicked back in a classic style. There was a certain air about him, one I could only relate to a Corleone, or any other movie mafia boss who spoke and looked content and calm while giving the order for a hit on a former friend. His sharp features reflected no friendly recognition, no disdain, no nothing, except recognition.

“Ms. Walton,” His deep voice caused me to jump involuntarily. “What an interesting place to meet you.”

I swallowed, stepping back to allow him to exit the elevator before mustering up the best fake-smile I could offer. “Mr. Dreyton, how are you?”

He reached up, adjusting the knot of his tie as he stepped up next to me. I could see a slight trace of wrinkles beginning to pull at the corners of his eyes, but averted my gaze quickly as his ice colored irises fell to meet mine. “Fine would be a lie. Let’s not begin this with those. I actually have wanted to speak with you for some time now, Ms. Walton. I have a little time to spare before I’m due back at the office, so I propose we have a conversation over coffee, on me, of course. Will you join me?”

The elevator doors slid closed in front of me; the cold I felt moments before was completely gone, replaced by an uncomfortable heat as my heart pounded rapidly against my chest. He scared me, more than Simon, more than a murderous George; he was intimidating without even trying. Saying no to his proposition seemed like a poor life decision.

I nodded slowly. “Yeah, sure.”

“Excellent. Come with me, then.” He marched off; I followed a few moments later. I had denied coffee with Felicia, but apparently the universe was determined that I would sit down and have at least one uncomfortable chat over the caffeinated beverage that day. “I want to talk to you about my son, Ms. Walton, and I expect the absolute truth.”

“I don’t think I’d be able to lie to you even if I wanted to, Mr. Dreyton,” I scoffed. It was the truth; James Dreyton had the ultimate tool to pull an honest response from me: he had fear on his side.