Awakening

Chapter 13

Tricks/Sheltered?

September 201-; Freshman Year

Carrie White, Heather McKenna

"First responder sources have stated that there are confirmed casualties at Thomas Ewen Consolidated High School where an electrical fire is in progress. Local EMS and rescue squads have acknowledged transporting several injured students and – we presume – chaperones to hospitals in Westover and Castle Rock. A witness working at a nearby triage point stated that he saw at least 10 of the injured receive red tags – indicating that they were critical cases. That same witness reported seeing at least three people being issued black tags. During triage, black tags are reserved for the dead, or those deemed to be beyond help. We haven't received official confirmation of fatalities, but the triage witness's statement corroborates statements given by other eye witnesses. In response to the mutual aid call, first responders from as far away as Portland and Derry have been dispatched…

- Segment of WCSH Channel 6's live coverage of the Chamberlain disaster.

Saturday, September 20th

Carrie White sat on the cold wooden floor of her closet, hugging her knees to her chest. Her eyes burned and her nose was sore and raw. She no longer felt like crying and probably wasn't capable of tearing up again anyhow. All of the anger and pain she had experienced that day had faded away, and she simply felt numb. She could faintly hear her mother muttering to herself and fussing with her work on the other side of the door; out in the real world. She wanted to hate Momma, Heather and all of the others, but found that she couldn't muster the energy to do so. Most of all, she hated herself. She still found the strength, in spite of her emotional exhaustion, to turn her anger inwards. The feeling of self-loathing was familiar and almost comforting. Carrie knew that, when all was said and done, it was her fault. She was the one who chose to ignore her intuition. She chose to believe when she knew better than to do so. She let them trick her again, and she had no one to blame but herself.

Ten days earlier

Apprehension and anticipation are perfectly normal emotions for young adults getting ready to start high school. Although the exact balance between the two may tend to favor the apprehension side of the equation, few kids would admit to actively dreading that first day of classes. Carrie was one of those kids. Over the summer, she counted down the days with a growing sense of impending doom the way one would await a court date or some sort of major surgery. It wasn't that she had abandoned all hope of for coming four years; quite the opposite in fact. Carrie still cleaved to the barest thread of optimism in spite of everything she had endured during the 8th grade. It might have been easier for her if she had given up and walled her heart off from the rest of the world. She didn't, and that would eventually get her into trouble.

Compared to Kennedy Middle School, Thomas Ewen Consolidated High was like an entirely different planet. The kids, or rather young adults, were bigger and much more sophisticated. At Kennedy, Carrie had been an insignificant fish in a massive pond, but Ewen made her feel so much smaller than that. Here, she was a mere piece of flotsam in the Atlantic – a nothing. The school itself wasn't that much larger than Kennedy in terms of size, but it possessed a sort of imposing air that made it seem huge.

At least it isn't too far from home, thought Carrie. Both Kennedy and Barker Elementary had also been within walking distance – something she was exceedingly grateful for. Carrie's few experiences on school buses hadn't been pleasant, and she definitely did not want to be subjected to that sort of commute on a daily basis.

Her legs felt like jelly. She tried to be brave, but the overwhelming sense of vulnerability left her trembling as she made her way to her third period class. Over the summer, Carrie had read a number of books about self-confidence and how to win friends. She didn't place a lot of stock in much of what was written, but figured it wouldn't hurt to at least try to look the part. Carrie understood that confident people weren't mocked and tormented – that confident people were liked. In her mind, she ran through a laundry list of things to do.

OK! Head up. Shoulders back. Eyes forward, she mentally commanded herself. I will not flinch. I will not slouch. I will not…

"OW!" Carrie wailed as she was roughly shoved against a bank of lockers. She had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she veered off course into some else's path. Under normal circumstances, such an occurrence wouldn't warrant pushing someone, but the rules were different when it came to Carrie. Thankfully, her backpack absorbed most of the impact (and even more importantly, shielded her from the sharp parts of the locker handles). Unfortunately, she did lose her grip on the notebook she was holding. It hit the ground with a loud thwap and sent loose papers sliding across the hallway floor.

"Watch where you're going, you moron!" Steve Deighan said as his friend Lou Garson chuckled. Steve was a grade above Carrie, and ticked off all of boxes on the bully checklist – in other words, he was big, mean and incredibly dumb. To add further insult, he made a point of kicking Carrie's notebook out of reach.

"Aw! She's gonna cry!" Lou howled. Carrie didn't cry. Instead, she took a deep breath and made a conscious effort not to look hurt or scared. She didn't exactly succeed, but she didn't burst into tears, either. The two older boys, looking more than a little disappointed at the lack of a response, left.

"Oh, sugar," Carrie said under her breath as she retrieved her possessions. She seldom swore, and thought it was a vulgar habit.

"Wow! That was really obnoxious!" A girl Carrie didn't recognize said as she handed her a ditto. She was wearing a purple floral blouse and a pair of skinny jeans. Her red hair was pulled into a ponytail and her nails were done in a gold crème polish. What caught Carrie's attention, however, was her smile. It was the sort of warm, sparkling smile that one would typically see on a TV commercial.

She was probably just being polite, Carrie thought morosely. Don't get your hopes up.

"I'm kind of used to it," Carrie said quietly as she added the page to the stack of papers she was shoving back into her notebook.

"That's awful!" She said. "I'm Heather, by the way"

"Ohuh, um… I'm Carrie." She hugged her notebook to her chest protectively. "It's nice to meet you."

"There were a lot of people like that at my old school," Heather commented offhandedly. "I was hoping things would be different here. I guess it goes with the territory, huh?"

"Yeah," Carrie said morosely. "That was Steve Deighan. He's a sophomore. He's hated me ever since the 4th grade."

"That sucks. Don't let the jerks get to you!" She said, gently touching Carrie on the shoulder. "Well, see ya!"

Don't get ahead of yourself, Carrie chided mentally. She'll probably end up being like all of the others. It's a shame, though. She seems nice.

Heather wasn't in any of Carrie's morning classes, and apart from bumping into her a couple of times in the hallway, she didn't see much of her during the first half of the day. Those chance meetings were encouraging, though. Not only would Heather acknowledge her when she said hello, she would actually wave and smile at her. What really made an impression on her was the fact that Heather would risk doing so in front of their classmates. Although she had more or less abandoned the idea of making friends, Carrie was disappointed that she didn't see more of her.

Carrie was lucky enough to be able to find a table by herself in cafeteria. Her heart beat quickened noticeably when she saw Chris Hargensen and her entourage hunting around for a spot to occupy. Carrie considered herself fortunate that her exposure to her and her clique that morning had been limited to hearing her yelling in the hallway. Chris wasn't someone Carrie wanted to deal with early in the morning – let alone on an empty stomach. Thankfully, the icy-eyed brunette and her clique didn't take notice of her and she was left in relative peace. She sat and sketched, pausing every now and then to take a sip from her carton of Yummy Tummy lemonade. Carrie was adding detail to a drawing of a seraph hugging a cherub when she heard a chair slide across the floor.

"Hey," Heather said, as she set her salad down and slid into an empty seat. "Mind if I join you?"

"Ohuh?" Carrie quickly closed her moleskin sketchbook and looked up with a somewhat perplexed expression. She fervently hoped that she didn't visibly wince. The last thing she wanted was for Heather to think she was weird. "I-I guess."

"It's Carrie, right?" Heather asked.

"White," Carrie corrected. "Oh, you meant… Oh, I'm sorry!"

"It's OK," Heather chuckled good-naturedly.

"What are you eating," Heather asked after an awkward pause. "It looks good!"

"It's just homemade bread with honey," Carrie said softly. "My mo-mother likes to bake. Would you like some?"

"Sure! I love homemade bread," Heather tore off part of a slice and popped it into her mouth. "My mom isn't really into baking."

"I love it too," Carrie actually smiled. "The problem is that it smells so good when it comes out of the oven that it's hard to keep yourself from eating it all at once."

"You know," Heather said. "You should come over to my house one day."

"I-I'd like that." Carrie forced a smile. She still remembered what happened when Sue Snell invited her over. The pain had since faded, but she was still cautious about going to someone else's house. Still, it was an opportunity – one she knew would be increasingly rare in the months and years to come.

I don't think she's met Chris or Donna yet, Carrie thought. There's no reason for her to do what Sue did. I might actually be able to win her over.

"I'll give you my cell phone number," Heather said, taking her LG flip phone out. "Do you have one?"

"No, I'm sorry."

"It's OK. Do you have an email address?"

"Just the one the school gave us," Carrie nervously played with the plastic wrapper from her straw. "I-I don't have a computer at home. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologizing," Heather said gently.

"I-I'm so… OK," Carrie murmured and lowered her head slightly. It wasn't that Heather's words or tone of voice were harsh, but rather the fact that over the years Carrie had become aware of how easy it was to say or do the wrong thing. She had wanted to make a good impression, and was beginning to worry that she might have blown it. She suddenly felt incredibly self conscious, as if every little flaw and imperfection of hers was laid bare. Is she staring at my acne? Maybe she's thinks I'm dressed like a little kid, or something? I know my clothes aren't fashionable. It's my hair. That's probably it. I know I've gained some weight over the summer…

The silence seemed to stretch on for minutes (in reality it barely lasted a heartbeat or two), and Carrie was becoming desperate to find something to fill it. She began to gnaw on the inside of her lower lip, and picked at her cuticles. She wanted to look confident – to be confident. She scanned the cafeteria without looking for anything in particular when her eyes settled on Tommy Ross and David Bracken. Carrie had a huge crush on Tommy and a somewhat lesser one on David ever since the seventh grade. She thought they were both smart, brave, and above all, nice. Carrie began to blush.

"What's the matter?" Heather asked as she turned to follow Carrie's gaze. "Oh! Wow."

"What? I-I…"

"Who's the tall one with the dark hair?" She asked in a hushed voiced as she back towards Carrie.

"Tommy Ross," Carrie replied, still blushing.

"He's really cute!" Heather gave Carrie a knowing smile. "Is he going out with anybody?"

"Yeah," Carrie whispered. "A sophomore. I-I don't know her name, though."

"Who's the boy standing next to him?"

"That's David Bracken. He's nice, too." Again, Carrie blushed and the almost-smile returned.

"Do you have a crush on him?" Heather again flashed that same, knowing smile. Uh oh. I think she knows.

"What!" Carrie's face turned a deeper shade of scarlet. "No! I-I mean, I… ohuh!"

"It's OK! You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I think you do, though." At one of the neighboring tables, a carton of milk tipped over and spilt its contents without having been touched. George Dawson groaned helplessly as it soaked the leg of his jeans.

"I-I don't know… I guess I do." Carrie stammered. She felt feverish.

"You know, I could ask around," Heather whispered conspiratorially. "He might like you, too!"

"No! He doesn't! Please don't! Please…"

"How do you know he doesn't like you?" Heather said placing her hand on Carrie's. "He might just be too shy to say so. I think you can understand what that's like."

"He-he doesn't! Why would he?" So much for looking confident.

"Trust me," the redhead said in the kindest, gentlest voice she could muster. "I'll be very careful and I won't tell him anything unless you say it's OK. Life's too short. You can't be afraid of reaching out."

"OK," Carrie mouthed. She wasn't sure if it was the earnest look in Heather's eyes or her words, but she was suddenly incapable of saying no. Her instinct – that little voice telling her not to get too attached to the new girl – howled and thrashed in futile outrage. "OK."

Carrie's afternoon classes were rough. She knew it was unrealistic to hope that she wasn't in any of the same classes as Chris, Tina or the others, but her heart sank just the same. Out of all of her classes, 7th period English was the worst with pretty much the entire clique being present. When the bell at the end of the period rang, Carrie gathered her things as quickly as she could and was about to head for the door when Vicky Hanscome stopped her.

"Hey, Car-rie!" Vicky said brightly. "There's something different about you. Oh, I know what it is! You gained weight over the summer! That's too bad!"

"Go away, Vicky," Carrie muttered and attempted to squeeze past. Vicky shifted a little and blocked her path.

"Oh, don't be like that!" Vicky said in a faux-hurt tone. Chris and the other girls laughed. "I missed you! I hardly saw at all! Didn't you miss us? You must have been so lonely!"

Carrie again tried to squeeze past, but ended up bumping into the hostile ginger. For a moment or two, Vicky looked as though she was about to lash out at her and Carrie flinched in anticipation. She didn't hit her, however, and instead leaned in so that she was almost nose to nose with the strawberry blonde.

"High school is going to be so much fun," Vicky's breath smelled of spearmint gum and her voice was thick and menacing. "We've got so many wonderful things in mind for you. I can't wait."

"If you're hungry, Carrie," Chris called out from the doorway as she and her clique exited, "I think someone forgot to flush one of the toilets in the ladies' room!"

The rest of the day went about as well as Carrie expected – in other words, not well at all. There was the usual assortment of insults and remarks, along with the occasional shove or trip. Over the years, she had grown accustomed to it to a degree. It was familiar and there was some comfort in the predictability of the routine. As she went about her business, Carrie noticed that somehow things did feel different – at least a little bit. It might have been her positive interaction with Heather or the suggestion that a boy might actually like her, but all of that day's meanness didn't seem to bother her quite as much. It didn't hurt that she was in two classes with Heather: 8th period French and 11th period economics. There was definitely something to be said about knowing that there was a friendly face waiting for you.

I don't think I'd care as much about Chris and the others did to me if I had a friend, Carrie smiled as she made her way to her locker at the end of the 12th period. I think she might actually want to be my friend! Maybe Heather's right about David. Maybe I have a chance!

Remember what happened with Sue? Carrie's instinct nagged her. Don't get too attached. You're just going to get hurt again. You thought Sue liked you, too. How did that work out for you?

NO! This time will be different. I know it will. I'm not a bad person and I don't deserve to be alone.

Carrie was so caught up in her own thoughts that she almost missed the slip of paper stuck in the vent at the top of her locker. It wasn't the presence of the note that had taken her by surprise; she had a long history of her classmates leaving nasty little memos. It was the contents of the missive that caught Carrie off guard:

I heard that you like me. I'm

really happy that you do. I've

had a crush on you for a couple of

months, but wasn't brave enough

to say so. I really like you, too! I

just thought I'd let you know.

-DB

She reread it several times, but still didn't believe it. Carrie's hands trembled as she gingerly folded the note and placed it in one of the small outside pockets on her backpack. Her legs felt rubbery and her heart was racing. Heather had apparently talked to him in spite of her promise not to do so. Carrie wasn't angry, though. Maybe her new friend really did have a knack for relationships. She was torn between the urge to rush down the hall to where David's locker was located and that little protective voice telling her that it was all just a trick. It really did seem too good to be true, but Carrie wanted to believe it. I don't know what to do! Ohuh, I feel dizzy! I'll ask Heather about it tomorrow.

Carrie did ask Heather, and even showed her the note during lunch the next day. Heather stated that she didn't know about it, and seemed genuinely happy for her. Carrie was beside herself. She had grown so used to the idea that she was doomed to be alone and friendless, that the mere notion that she not only had a new friend, but that the boy she liked liked her back made her feel lightheaded. It was as if all of her tears and prayers had finally been answered, and she was nearly floored when she found a second note waiting for her that afternoon. Carrie was convinced, in spite of that little nagging voice, that David really did like her.

A pattern started to develop, and Carrie was receiving a new letter pretty much every afternoon. Most of the notes were short, sweet and had the uncanny ability to make Carrie's tummy turn summersaults. She cherished them – not just for what they said, but for what they implied. Things were going to be different. For what might have been the first time in her academic life, she was happy to be in school. In fact, she hardly seemed to notice the bullies anymore, and actually smiled at Jessica Upshaw and Emily Bourne when they mocked her for tripping in gym class. Things were going well and she wasn't going to let anyone ruin it for her. After she found the seventh note she finally settled on approaching David in person. She'd tell him how she felt and maybe, if everything went well, even hug him. The thought made her giggle, and filled her with a warmth she found both exhilarating and frightening. She only had a vague idea of what people did when they went steady, and knew she'd have to deal with Momma sooner or later. Carrie had no doubt whatsoever that Momma would disapprove, but she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

After tucking the note safely into one of her composition books, she made her way over to where David was chatting with George Dawson and the Thibodeau sisters. Carrie almost lost her nerve when she noticed that Chris and her clique were clustered around Sue's locker not too far away. Sue wasn't there, but it wasn't unusual for her to see them waiting for her. What did strike Carrie as somewhat odd was the fact that Heather was also there, talking amicably with Tina. She knew that Heather and Sue had met and become friends, but wasn't aware that Heather knew Tina. Under normal circumstances, Carrie would have been concerned, and probably would have turned tail and ran in the opposite direction. She didn't this time. She was absolutely certain that things would be different. In fact, she kind of wanted Chris and Donna and the others to see her being confident and talking to a boy. She was terrified, but knew she had to do this. She promised herself that she would be brave as she slowly approached David Bracken.

"Umm, Hi!" Carrie said as she sidled up next to David. She usually felt uncomfortable about being in close proximity with her classmates, but thought that it would be okay this time. "H-how are you?"

"Hey," David said unenthusiastically as George and the Thibodeaus excused themselves. Carrie's mouth had gone completely dry. She vaguely heard Chris hush Vicky in the background.

"I-I'm not really sure what to say," she started, trying her best to look confident. "I really appreciate all of those things you wrote and I like you, too! I like you very much, and I have for a long time. I'd love to…"

"What are you talking about?" David looked simultaneously confused and annoyed. "I didn't write anything! Where did you get the idea that I like you?"

"Didn't you write the notes I found in my locker?" Carrie felt as though the whole world was closing in on her. "I-I thought you wrote them? You said you liked me?"

"No," David tried and failed to conceal a look of disgust. "I don't like you, and I didn't leave you any notes. Why would I?"

Unbeknownst to Carrie, Chris Hargensen had been watching the drama unfold closely and completely lost control at this point. She began to laugh hysterically, and soon the others, apart from Heather, were howling as well. For her part, Heather looked as if she was about to be physically ill.

Heather. Heather was the only one who knew. She must have told Chris! Did she write them or did Chris?

"Aww, poor Carrie!" Donna cried between gales of laughter.

"Do you need a hug?" Rhonda Simard said sneering.

"Are you gonna cry, Carrie?" Tina quipped. Vicky looked as if she wanted to say something, but was laughing so hard that she was incapable of forming words.

Carrie did cry this time. Her confidence was shattered and she completely humiliated. David Bracken no longer looked disgusted or annoyed. Instead he looked at her with an expression of abject pity. She turned on her heels and dashed down the hall.

"Carrie?" Heather said softly as Carrie ran by. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't…"

Saturday, September 20th

Carrie managed to make it home without running into any of her classmates. Chris's laughter still rang in her ears, and the sick feeling of betrayal gripped her insides. Not only had she trusted Heather, she really had grown to think of her as a friend. The image of her standing there with Chris and the others was burned into Carrie's mind. She had been so upset that she had forgotten about the note she had left in her composition book. She was originally going to hide it in the closet, behind the box for her Betsy Ross sewing machine with the others, but it had slipped her mind. It was then that misfortune decided to intervene and compound Carrie's misery. Had she been in a calmer, more rational state of mind, Carrie would have never left the incriminating letter where Momma could find it – and that is precisely what happened.

There was never any doubt in Carrie's mind that her mother would be furious if she found out about her having a crush, let alone receiving letters from a boy. Momma had been straightening up in the living room when she accidentally knocked the marble composition book off of the coffee table, causing the letter to slip out. She had read it and immediately became apoplectic. Carrie tried to reason with her, but to no avail and wound up getting hit twice. It had been the first time in four months that Momma had struck her. Any thoughts of resistance she might have had at that point vanished, and she allowed herself to be ushered into the closet.

The votive candle she had lit had gone out and she sat in the dark stillness of her prayer closet, allowing her shame to wash over her. The quiet was only occasionally punctuated by her sniffling and the distant shuffling of Momma in the kitchen. Carrie had lost track of how long she had been locked inside, and frankly, no longer cared. She was content to sit in there for the rest of her life.

Alone.

Notes: This is sort of a combined and revised "Tricks and Sheltered." The original "Tricks?" wasn't very good, and I thought it would be best to revise it (thanks for the concrit). Kind? And Cruel? will probably be the next two regular chapters up, and I've got a couple of bonuses in the works. I figured that by this stage of the game, Carrie would have lost most of her drive to win friends, but would still cling onto a tiny bit of it (otherwise, she'd have just said no when asked to the prom).

David Bracken was mentioned in passing in the book, but wasn't developed very much. I figured that Carrie, like most teens, would have had crushes.

I need a little feedback. I've been outlining the prom chapters and they're a little dark (IE violent, some gore and darker subject matter). I was wondering if I should keep it fairly tame (and at a T rating), raise the level to M when I get to it, or do those chapters as a separate M-rated story.

Character Notes: Elizabeth (Lizzi) and Nicole (Nikki) Wilson

Age: 17 (June 4th)

Canon: Nikki and Lizzi were the remake equivalents of Cora and Rhonda Wilson from the DePalma film (who, in turn were based on the Thibodeaus from the novel). They get a lot more screen time and seem to be more actively mean than the earlier versions.

Appearance: Identical twins. They have dark hair and dark eyes. Both of them started off the senior year with Pixie cuts – but grew their hair out during the run-up to the prom. They have pale skin (very pale). They're both petite, but a little taller than Chris (but not quite as tall as Vicky or Tina). The Wilsons are extremely trendy and fashion-forward and have a habit of dressing alike. Both have professionally done nails (Lizzi's are quite a bit longer) and tend to go for more "evening" appropriate make-up. Nikki has a slight scar over her left eyebrow from where she got hit by a swing on the playground when she was little. Lizzi tends to go for more sensible shoes than Nikki. Only a handful of people at Ewen can tell them apart (Chris Hargensen happens to be one of those that can).

Personality and Background: Very intelligent and somewhat arrogant. Both have a biting sense of humor and often "tag-team" people they target. Their mother and father are both somewhat aloof, but genuinely care for them. They had lived in Chamberlain for quite some time and were enrolled in a private school prior to attending Ewen. They fell in with Chris and her clique mostly because they realized that Chris and Donna weren't put off by their personalities. They're among the more aggressively mean Ultras and are particularly cruel to Carrie and Holly Marshall. They weren't initially hostile towards Carrie, but started bullying her after a misunderstanding (and a run-in with Margaret White). Nikki tends to be more emotive than Lizzi, and is a bit more anger-prone. They're very protective of each other, and still periodically hold hands. They both consider Tina and Vicky to be their best friends. They really (really) don't like Billy Nolan.