Peter Pan and the Spiders From Mars

Brent’s story weighed heavily on my head and I had a new-found respect for him. People shouldn’t have to live with such a past as that. Time ticked by as I sat on my bed and replayed the story over and over again in my mind. The sun began to set and I heard Debbie come back home. The noises she made seemed out of place. Debbie and Brent talked down stairs and I could only assume that it was about this afternoon. I scratched at my plaid skirt and saw that I had an hour to get to Thomas’ parents restaurant. There was no way I could ask Brent to drive me. How heartless would that be? Not only did I not know how I was going to get there, but I also didn’t know if I really want to go. I felt like a blood traitor in crossing over to their side. But on the other hand, I desperately needed to find out about my mark.

I huffed and grabbed the outdated phonebook from under my computer. I could still hear Debbie and Brent talking through the vent. I flipped through the pages until I came to the restaurants section of the book and traced my finger along the T’s.

Tiny Tim’s Ukulele’s….No

Tiger and Me Toy Shop…Definitely not.

Tony’s Delicatessen…Close.

Trovatelli Italian….Bingo.

I whipped out my phone and dialed the number, hoping that Thomas would be the one to answer. It continued to ring as I paced back and forth. Dark clouds, or ones that were darker than normal, undulated their way across the sky. It would be a matter of moments before the rain would start to fall.

“Trovatelli Italian, Old Style Dining since 1902, this is Karissa speaking. How may I serve you?” The young, perky voice sprang up from the other line.

“Um,” I coughed in an attempt to make my voice seem less…mannish, “May I please speak to Thomas?”

“Thomas?” Her voice peaked in interest. From just this simple conversation, I could guess (and probably be correct) that her favorite song would be “I Know What Boys Like” by the Waitresses.

“Yeah, could I talk to him?”

“Ah, just a second…” She trailed off, leaving the phone before finishing her sentence. In her absence I could hear people dining, the scrape of knives and petty talk, and heavy Italian accents. It was minutes before Karissa picked up the phone. “Um, he’s kind of busy right now, but-“

“Karissa…” The phone was jostled on the other side and I could hear Thomas talking to Karissa. “Give me the phone.”

“No, I’m in charge, and you need to wait on those tables. They’re not going to be very happy.”

“Really, give me the phone.”

“No.”

“Karissa, if you don’t give me the phone, I’m going to tell Nana what you really did during Spring Break. Then, you can be the cause of her death.” Thomas’ tone was condescending and highly entertaining.

“You wouldn’t.” Her voice was quiet, small with defeat.

“Would I?” Karissa surrendered the phone and Thomas’ voice came on the line, full and clear. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Kjell.”

“Yeah, I know, Karissa told me.”

“Oh, so…”

“So…”

“So, what did she really do on her Spring Break?”

“Psh, I don’t know, but it was probably horrifying.” Thomas sounded happy, humored. “You still coming over tonight?”

“Um,” I checked the clock, twenty minutes until eight, “I don’t think I can.”

“What? Why not?” The sounds of the restaurant diminished and I could only assume that he had moved into a different room

“I can’t get a ride.” I gulped.

“You can’t get a ride?”

“No, my foster parents aren’t going to leave the house.” I was too freaked out by talking to Thomas that I didn’t realize that I let “foster” slip.

“Oh.” It was silent except for the background sounds of socializing. I felt bad about completely blowing off Thomas. But he had ignored me during Chemistry…

Brent or Thomas? Brent or Thomas?

“But do you want to just come over to my house after your shift, or whatever?”

“Your house? Ahh, sure. That sounds…”

“Good?”

“Yeah, where do you live?” I told him the address, nerves coating my voice.

“Oh,” I heard Brent and Debbie finally end their conversation and resort to climbing up the stairs to head to bed, “you probably shouldn’t knock on the door. I’ll just wait and let you in myself.” Thomas was silent on the other side.

“You don’t want your parents to know I’m coming over, do you?” I let the “P” word slip.

“Um, no. That would not be a good idea.” Thomas chuckled and I heard his name being called in the background. He pulled away and spoke in rapid Italian. His voice fluxed in irritation.

“Okay, I’ll be there, maybe around elevenish? That’s when my shift gets off.” There was a smile in Thomas’ voice that I was unable to mirror.

“Yeah, sure. See you then.”

“Okay, bye.” I hung up the phone before responding to him, subconsciously hoping that he’ll figure out that I was pissed at the moment. Replacing the phone at its place on the desk, I peeked out of my door, down the hall, to Brent and Debbie’s room. The door was closed, but there was a thin strip of light spreading from their room that illuminated the carpet. They were still awake, but soon they’d be asleep with tears crusting their eyes closed.

Rain thudded down on the roof and slid down the windows. It was going to be another two hours before Thomas showed up. With great reluctance, I attempted to catch up on homework, but I of course failed. I had been reading on paragraph from Catcher in the Rye for over thirty minutes, but the words wouldn’t stick into my thoughts. The rain dripped faster and smarter, distracting me from the tedious work. So, I decided to do something very stupid.

Keeping quiet so that I wouldn’t wake up Brent or Debbie, I rummaged around for my galoshes in my closet. I found them, slipped on the dank green boots and jerked on my raincoat. Then, keeping my sensibility tucked away, I slid open my window, allowing the rain and wind to momentarily race into my room, and crept out onto the landing. Immediately, I slipped and my leg crashed against the rough tile, but was caught by the water drain.

“Breathe.” I gathered myself. “Bite. Let the blood flow.” I crawled even more silently, hand over hand and leg over leg, across the landing while the rain slipped over my body and coiled with my hair. I reached the edge and scrambled down to the adjacent fence that ran along the property. Thank God for that. I hopped on the fence and then jumped down to the ground, making a less than perfect landing. I mentally applauded myself. “And that is how it’s done.”

Water had managed to seep into my boots, but the rest of my body was already partially wet, so therefore I did not care. I jogged out onto the road, looking back to see the light in Brent and Debbie’s room turned resolutely off. The problem was, once I was outside, I didn’t know what to do next. I surveyed the surroundings, feeling very professional, and took in the charcoal sky and the pelting bits of water. But somehow I knew things were fucked up.

And that’s when I saw it.