Shadow of the Past Page 2

  “Well,” he said, having to raise his voice a little to be heard over the crowd. “Here it is, in all its glory.”

  She took a step forward, scanning the room for anything familiar. She looked back at him. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “No, I usually eat lunch outside.”

  “Thanks for warning me,” she smiled. “What, you were just going to abandon me here?”

  “What? No! God, no! I just . . . well, Juniors and Seniors get to eat lunch off campus, so I usually eat outside. You just, well, you said you wanted the cafeteria, so I was trying to help.”

  “I know, I’m just messing with you. Want some company?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “That’d be great.” If by great you mean “A great opportunity for you to continue looking like a fucking fool,” then yes, by all means, let’s go have ourselves a sammich with a side of crippling shame.

  There was a small park behind the school dotted with some other kids in various clique-sized groups. Climate change, plus New Jersey being New Jersey, made the weather warm and mild. He led her over to his usual spot for lunch a secluded bench under a tree.

  “Wow,” she said when they sat down. “That was something alright.”

  “Yeah,” Mark said. “They’ve been trying to get a tighter grip on stuff for years.”

  “Still, I’m just glad I talked my Dad into not sending me to private school,” she said, getting a lunch bag out.

  “Around here? Your family must be pretty loaded.”

  “Yeah, well, my dad thinks we’re not rich enough. He’s getting a pretty big raise with this new job.”

  Better and better. Beautiful and rich. If only she’d quit giving him false hope, then she’d be perfect.

  “Hello?” she called, waving her hand in front of him with a slight smile. “Are you still in there?”

  “Yeah,” he said, blushing. “Just thinking. Sorry ‘bout that.”

  She shrugged. “Nothing wrong with that. What about?”

  “Oh, just . . . stupid crap. The usual.”

  She looked at him for a moment and he thought that she was going to call his bluff, but she just ate her sandwich in the sudden, uneasy silence.

  “So, ah, where’re you from?” Mark asked, trying not to sound as lame and desperate as he felt. Coolness. Deep, inner, once in a lifetime coolness was what he needed, and he could feel it just within his grasp.

  “Well, I was born in upstate New York and then we moved to Cincinnati for four years, Cleveland for five, Pittsburgh for three, and most recently Boston for four. This, however, is the first time I was able to get my dad to let me attend public school. The great schools are supposedly why we picked this town.”

  Mark smiled. “That’s what a lot of people say. I think the schools were really good in the 70’s or something, but this place has pretty much gone to hell. In the past couple of years we’ve had more fights and stabbings than ever before. A lot of people blame it on an ‘increased gang presence’ or something like that, but that’s just crap.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Great. My dad hears ‘stabbings’ and his head’s going to explode and the leftover bits are going to move me to boarding school”

  “Well,” Mark shrugged, “there hasn’t been one since last spring so I think you’re stuck with us for now.”

  “Believe me, I hope so. Every other private school, no matter where you go, is full of these prima donna rich kids who think they’re the shit.”

  Mark smiled a little bit. “Aren’t you a ‘rich kid’?”

  She shrugged. “Well, you’ve got me there, but at least I still try to be a human being.”

  “Well, you’re way better than the others,” he said. “When most of the people here run me over they don’t say a thing. You at least talk to me.”

  “It hasn’t seemed like they’ve been able to stand to talk to me either, so I guess we’re stuck together.” She smiled and Mark could feel his five-minute lifetime allotment of coolness slipping away.

  “Well, I hope you don’t feel too ‘stuck.’ I’m kind of a social pariah, so hanging with me may not be wise. Y’know, if you want to keep your options open.”

  “I so don’t care about that anymore. I tried so hard to do the whole popular girl thing in Boston but I just morphed into an uber-bitch. I think I just need some time to chill.”

  “Well, I know how that goes,” he said, replacing coolness with outright lies. “I’ve had some things that I’ve had to work out too, and, y’know, it’s just something everyone goes through.”

  “Really? Like what?”

  “Oh, it was . . . ,” Mark brushed some stray hairs from his face, finding something interesting across the way to look at. “It was just some . . . family stuff. Nothing too major, I guess.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so just prying away, like you’d wanna discuss your crisis of faith or whatever with a stranger.”

  Mark chuckled. “No, can’t have a crisis with something you don’t have.” He opened his mouth to say more, and then stopped. “You’re not, like, religious or anything are you?”

  “My mom kinda is but my dad’s too much of a workaholic for church. Personally . . . I think that’s one of the things I’m trying to figure out.” She paused. “So you don’t believe in God or anything?”

  Mark studied the ground, trying to pick his words before he blurted out more nonsense.

  “It’s not that big a deal or anything,” she said. “If you don’t wanna talk about it--”

  “No, I’ve had this conversation before, kinda, but my friends are . . . well, they’re a little divided on the issue.” He looked up at her. “But hey, I don’t want to be weird or anything. I mean, we just met and we’re already delving into the big questions and all.”

  “Well, I’ve had my fill of stupid conversations about clothes and TV and all that shit. But if you’re not comfortable talking to me-”

  “No, no, I’m comfortable!” Mark blurted out.

  “I hope so,” she laughed. “I’d hate to see you when you’re uncomfortable.”

  “Well, y’know, it’s just that I’m enjoying talking to you, and I don’t want you to flee in terror or anything.”

  “I won’t flee in terror, Mark. You’re far too nice.”

  “Well, I can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t be nice to you,” he said, trying not to grin like an idiot. “But the whole God thing . . . no, I don’t believe. I don’t believe there’s some big old white guy with a beard sitting in the cloud that’s got Pat Robertson’s back and making sure the teams that pray the most make it to the Superbowl.” She laughed, and he paused to enjoy it. “I just can’t accept the fact there’s something out there guiding our lives for some master plan. There’s too much wrong with the world for me to accept that.”

  He leaned back and took a bite out of his sandwich before he said anything else. She stared at him intently and Mark inwardly cringed. This is it. She’s going to get up and walk away and every time I see her I’ll replay this conversation in my head and want to die.

  “Is this a private party or can anyone jump in?” a voice called from behind the tree.

  Mark jumped with so much surprise that he crushed his sandwich in his fist. “Jesus, dude. Relax, it’s just me,” said the lean boy with the long, black leather coat who stepped from behind the tree.

  “Steve, Christ! You scared the crap out of me!” Mark said, throwing the remnants of his sandwich at him.

  “Sorry, man. I thought I was expected, but clearly you found some better company.” Steve grinned wide, not taking his eyes off Christine. “I’ve gotta say, you definitely traded up.”

  “Yeah, this is Christine,” Mark said, his face growing red as he wiped the mayo and mustard off of his hand.

  “Nice to meet you,” she said, extending a hand which Steve took with an even bigger smile.

  “Charmed,” he said, clasping it firmly. “Steve Rhodes, pleased to meetcha.” Steve plopped down between the two of them. �
�So,” he said, looking from one to the other, “what are we talking about?”

  “Oh, nothing much,” Mark said, before Christine could answer. “Just giving her the lowdown on the whole Cedar Ridge High thing.”

  “Ah, you’re a new kid, huh?” Steve said, grinning even wider. “Well, there’s just one thing you need to know.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Don’t hang out with us, we’re losers.”

  She chuckled a little, and Mark felt his whole body cringe. “Seriously,” Steve said, “It’s not that bad. You’re young and pretty and the world is your oyster. You’ll do fabulously.”

  She rolled her eyes a little. “Yeah, well, I’ll settle for normal.”

  “Better than normal from what I can tell, but that’s just me being forward,” Steve said.

  The three sat in silence for a few moments, and Mark’s mind raced for some way to regain control of the situation.

  “So, Christine, uh, what class do you have next?” was all he could come up with.

  Christine rummaged through her bag and pulled out her schedule. “Well, let’s see . . . I’ve got English, French and Study Hall. And then, it’s the weekend.”

  “Any big plans for it?” Steve asked, looking at her but elbowing Mark at his side.

  “Just unpacking,” she shrugged. “Haven’t been here long enough to find something interesting to do.”

  Steve looked over at Mark and grinned widely. If he says anything I’ll kill him, Mark thought. I swear to God I’ll kill him right in the fucking face.

  “How about that?” Steve said.

  The three made more small talk the rest of the period, Mark only throwing in a few comments here and there to make sure he wasn’t forgotten among Steve’s ADD-charm. When the bell rang and the three got up to leave, he drew in a deep breath, turned to Christine and said, “Can I walk you to your next class?” If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he was calming down. She had been getting to her feet and putting her backpack back on. She turned, hair flipping over her shoulder.

  “Sure,” she said, “I’d like that.”

  So much for calming down.

  Chapter Three

  “Well, here you go,” Mark said.

  “Thanks for the walk,” she said. “You’ve been really sweet.”

  “Oh, well, that’s . . . It’s my pleasure,” Mark said. “Really.”

  They stood for a few moments, Mark trying so hard not to stare at her that he ended up admiring the tile work.

  “Well, I should see you later, okay?” Christine said, and Mark snapped his head back around.

  “Yeah!” He said, and then took a breath, trying to reel in the enthusiasm. “I guess I will see you in class and stuff.” They still have that most days, and she’ll be in at least one of them, genius.

  “Yeah,” Christine said, smiling over her shoulder as she walked into class. “See you then.”

  Mark stepped backwards, keeping an eye on the door until Steve crept up behind him and clapped him hard on the shoulder.

  “Man! You are smitten!”

  “Shut up!” Mark said, elbowing him in the ribs and walking away.

  “Relax! It happens!” Steve said, falling in alongside him.

  “I know!” Mark said, feeling the eyes of everyone in the hallway on him. “I just don’t need you advertising it everywhere, alright?”

  “Yeah, fine.” Steve said.

  As they entered the gym, Steve turned to Mark and grinned wickedly. “Hey, didya hear? She’s free this weekend!”

  “Would you shut up?” Of course he heard and knew exactly why Steve had brought it up.

  “Think about it, man,” Steve said as they headed down to the locker room. “She’s a pretty hot chick, and if you don’t make your move now, pffftt!” threw his hands apart in a dramatic gesture. “She be snatched up by some other guy and she’ll forget you even existed.”

  “I wish we could forget you existed,” called a voice from the other end of the row of lockers. Mark closed his eyes and prayed for the thousandth time for a world where Steve knew when to keep his damn mouth shut.

  “Hey,” Steve called over his shoulder. “Not talking to you, Jack.”

  “Fuck you,” Jack said. His eyes focused squarely on Mark, who stared back in impotent silence. Ever since the sixth grade Jackson Cole went out of his way to make sure that Mark was miserable. If he wasn’t throwing paperclips at the back of Mark’s head, he was bumping into him in the halls or finding some other way to embarrass him. Jack was Mark’s anti-matter; clean-cut, athletic, social, well-liked, wealthy, and whenever they crossed paths Jack tried to destroy him.

  Towards the end of sophomore year Jack had been pushing each confrontation with Mark further and further. The last time Jack and his friends had found Mark heading for the South Exit after school. It had become typical fare by this point, especially after school without anyone else around. Before Mark could get away Jack bounced him off a couple of lockers to the delight of his minions. Mark just closed his eyes and rode each shove like a humiliating wave, keeping his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to see Jack’s twisted grin every time Mark made contact with metal.

  The ride ended when he grabbed Mark by the lapels, drawing him close to his face and snarling, “Look at me!” Mark cracked his eyes open a little, wincing at the fury raging in front of him. “You’re a loser, Watson,” Jack hissed. “A failure. A nobody. You could just disappear right now and no one would ever care.”

  Mark felt tears of shame and rage welling up and he knew that Jack could see them too. He let go of Mark’s shirt and he slumped to the floor, stripped of his will to exist, let alone stand. He didn’t open his eyes until he heard Jack and of his friends leaving.

  Mark had hoped that the summer had given Jack a chance to cool down but Mark could tell that things were just as bad as before when Jack chose a gym locker in the same row as Steve and Mark.

  Jack strode forward and Mark couldn’t keep himself from stepping back a bit. “No, fuck you,” Steve said, his voice wavering. Steve was bigger than Mark but it was all height and not muscle. Jack didn’t even acknowledge Steve’s existence, keeping his gaze locked on Mark. The corners of Jack’s mouth turned up a little and it took every ounce of Mark’s willpower to not look away.

  “You shouldn’t even bother looking for a girlfriend, Watson. No girl would go out with a pathetic waste like you.” He snickered and started to turn away. “Besides,” he said over his shoulder, “I’ve probably already fucked her.” He said it loud enough for the rest of the people in their row to hear, and there was a wave of chuckles and smirks.

  Mark could tell Steve wanted to say something to him, but Mark ignored it. It was just going to be his usual, “Stand up for yourself,” “Don’t let him push you around,” and “You’re ten times better than he is.”

  It’s hard to fight back and stand up for yourself when you know he’s right, isn’t it?

  When everyone was changed they headed up stairs and sat in their assigned spots on the gym floor as Coach Roberts checked off their names. The nets were already set up, dashing Mark’s hopes that they were doing anything else but volleyball. The gym had been divided into two separate courts and the class had been split up into four teams, which they went to after attendance was taken.

  Mark absolutely hated volleyball. Despite whatever hand-eye coordination he’d gotten from video games he couldn’t hit the ball to save his life, much less get it over the net. Accepting his own ball-and-net shortcomings was one thing but playing out his sports inadequacies for everyone to see was just cruel.

  Jack and his friends being on his team made it unbearable.

  “There,” Jack said, motioning for Mark to take a spot in the middle of the court after. Mark opened his mouth to protest but remembered it wouldn’t do a damn bit of good. He shuffled to his spot, trying not to look as nervous and mortified as he felt. Mark soon found himself flanked by two of Jack’s friends, Victor Barnes and Kyle F
erris. It was going to be bad today, he realized.

  The game got underway, and Mark watched the ball dreading it coming toward him. It came down towards Vic, who moved out of its path and called, “Get it!” Mark stepped over, gritted his teeth and swung at the ball. It caromed off his fist and arced up behind him.

  Kyle tapped it straight up in the air and said, “Send it over.” Mark scrambled to get under the ball and managed to get it over with a healthy dose of luck.

  The pattern soon became obvious. The ball would come down and Jack’s friends would either move out of the way, ordering Mark to get it, or send it over towards him deliberately. Mark found himself racing back and forth, arms flailing at the ball and sending it off in random directions.

  Finally Mark was rotated back into the serving position. The ball was dropped at Mark’s feet, somewhere near his pounding heart and self-esteem. Kids on the other team rolled their eyes and some took the opportunity to sit and stretch out. Mark closed his eyes, trying to keep his face from flaring to red with embarrassment. “Any day, Watson,” Vic snickered next to him.

  Mark opened his eyes and picked up the ball. It rested in his palm and after a few seconds he pictured Jack’s head in its place. Hitting it hard no longer was a problem. He tossed it up and swung as hard as he could. It flew high, narrowly missing the maze of ducts and pipes on the ceiling. Mark thought for a second that he’d actually score a point, but it headed towards one of the few people on the opposite team that was actually paying attention. The ball went back and forth, and thankfully Mark’s team lost the point so he didn’t have to serve again.

  When he moved Kyle took his place at Mark’s right again, and it seemed that the game had changed. Instead of running him ragged all around the court they went out of their way to bump, jostle and ram into him. They’d dart to the sides when a ball was coming near Mark and slam him to the ground while trying to get at it. Soon exhaustion at running around became the least of his worries and he found himself too tired to even move out of the way. As they headed back down to the locker room towards the end of the period, Steve jogged up alongside Mark. “Hey, it looks like they were knocking you around pretty bad out there, huh?” Mark just looked away, not wanting to confirm the obvious.