Chapter 7
Lucas moved around in his bed trying to get comfortable. He couldn't even yawn. Tiredness didn't enter his thoughts one bit. Which scared him, especially after ten days. And it was starting to affect Marshall as well. He was always tired. Since the group had gone their separate ways for the night—with everyone running off to find new meaning in their lives, or something—he'd had plenty of time to sit around watching over Marshall.
"Marshall..." he whispered trying to rouse his friend. "Marshall are you awake? Damn, you're like sleeping beauty."
No answer.
He knew he couldn't wake him. Stupid insomnia. No doubt caused by the wormhole, he thought angrily to himself. Stupid wormhole.
Bored, he flicked the lamp switch turning it on and grabbed his glasses. As he looked around the room, Marshall's opened notepad. A devious grin crossed his face as he crept towards the notepad—it's pull too much to resist. "Just a little peek," he said, in an effort to convince himself he wasn't in the wrong.
"Looky what we..." he trailed off when he noticed the first few pages were actually photo montages of the Science Club, Magnet 360 and his family.
He turned the page over. And saw photo's of himself. Two whole pages of the two of them together or Lucas by himself. Slightly bemused by this, he skimmed over the next few pages with little sketches, letters, postcards and even essays stuck in there or actually written for it.
Musings, random thoughts, dreams—Lucas was surprised by how much Marshall actually wrote down. And how much of it was about the various relationships he had—then he found that songs that Marshall had written. Or was at least writing.
A large amount of them were about food. Others were unexpectedly bitter and sarcastic. Well, this explains where all of his anger goes at least, Lucas thought, glancing over his shoulder.
Lucas found one of them amusing—and hoped to see it done my Magnet 360 one- day. Just for laughs. "Your love is better than ice cream, it's better than anything else I've tried," he read aloud, quite amused. "And your love is better than chocolate, and, oh, love is better than chocolate, better than ice cream... cause everyone here knows how to fight and it's a long, long way down to where we started from."
He snickered at the work-in-progress as he turned the page to find a complete song. Dedicated to him—'To my best friend, Lucas Randall-An eternal mystery'—Surprised, he continued on and started to read it out aloud. "You come out at night, That's when the energy comes, And the dark side's light and the vampires roam, You strut your Rasta wear and your suicide poem, And a cross from a faith that died, Before Jesus, came... You're building a mystery."
Lucas couldn't help but smile. While he didn't know why Marshall put in the religious references—because of his disdain for it probably—it made sense with the mystery motif. He was never doing something obvious.
"You live in a church, Where you sleep with voodoo doll's, And you won't give up the search for the ghosts in the halls. You where sandals in the snow, And a smile that won't wash away, Can you look out the window, Without your shadow getting in the way? Oh, you're so beautiful, With an edge and a charm, And so careful when I'm in your arms."
Suddenly, Lucas didn't enjoy the song as much. He skipped ahead a bit.
"You woke up screaming aloud! A prayer from your secret god, You feed of our fears, And you hold back your tears. Oh, you give us a tantrum, And a know-it-all grin, Just when we need one, When the evenings thin, Oh, you're so beautiful, Beautiful fucked up man—"
He stopped immediately. And began to look at the ice cream song in a whole new light. Swallowing hard, he closed the book. Regretting reading it. And struggling to find a reason for it. A joke, he finally decided, it had to be a joke. Payback for what he did to Vaughn. A bit of fun.
Even Lucas knew that was pushing it though. It didn't add up. Marshall would have done something more physical or psychological. And he would have been awake to see it. But he was completely out of it.
Pushing the book back under some paper, he backed away to the bed and laid down on it. He had a lot of thinking to do. And in hindsight, it all made so much sense. Without thinking, he returned to the desk, almost subconsciously, and picked up the book again.
This time, he kept it with him and slid it into a backpack. He'd photocopy it later. Maybe confront Marshall about it—yeah right! His thoughts screamed at him—and try and find out why he'd do this. Maybe ask Josie about it.
Maybe.
Miss Meeder moved along the shadows like a demon. She'd bided her time long enough. She needed to confront him now. Closure would be good for her. So she could put it all behind her, so she could leave this behind.
"The address hasn't changed at least," she murmured, feeling nostalgic.
Silently, she moved to the door. Holding her hand up ready to knock, she froze up. She couldn't disturb them. Now wasn't the time. She's waited this long. What would a few more days matter?
Regretfully, she retracted her hand, and turned away from the house.
"Later," she said. "I promise you."
Lucas moved around in his bed trying to get comfortable. He couldn't even yawn. Tiredness didn't enter his thoughts one bit. Which scared him, especially after ten days. And it was starting to affect Marshall as well. He was always tired. Since the group had gone their separate ways for the night—with everyone running off to find new meaning in their lives, or something—he'd had plenty of time to sit around watching over Marshall.
"Marshall..." he whispered trying to rouse his friend. "Marshall are you awake? Damn, you're like sleeping beauty."
No answer.
He knew he couldn't wake him. Stupid insomnia. No doubt caused by the wormhole, he thought angrily to himself. Stupid wormhole.
Bored, he flicked the lamp switch turning it on and grabbed his glasses. As he looked around the room, Marshall's opened notepad. A devious grin crossed his face as he crept towards the notepad—it's pull too much to resist. "Just a little peek," he said, in an effort to convince himself he wasn't in the wrong.
"Looky what we..." he trailed off when he noticed the first few pages were actually photo montages of the Science Club, Magnet 360 and his family.
He turned the page over. And saw photo's of himself. Two whole pages of the two of them together or Lucas by himself. Slightly bemused by this, he skimmed over the next few pages with little sketches, letters, postcards and even essays stuck in there or actually written for it.
Musings, random thoughts, dreams—Lucas was surprised by how much Marshall actually wrote down. And how much of it was about the various relationships he had—then he found that songs that Marshall had written. Or was at least writing.
A large amount of them were about food. Others were unexpectedly bitter and sarcastic. Well, this explains where all of his anger goes at least, Lucas thought, glancing over his shoulder.
Lucas found one of them amusing—and hoped to see it done my Magnet 360 one- day. Just for laughs. "Your love is better than ice cream, it's better than anything else I've tried," he read aloud, quite amused. "And your love is better than chocolate, and, oh, love is better than chocolate, better than ice cream... cause everyone here knows how to fight and it's a long, long way down to where we started from."
He snickered at the work-in-progress as he turned the page to find a complete song. Dedicated to him—'To my best friend, Lucas Randall-An eternal mystery'—Surprised, he continued on and started to read it out aloud. "You come out at night, That's when the energy comes, And the dark side's light and the vampires roam, You strut your Rasta wear and your suicide poem, And a cross from a faith that died, Before Jesus, came... You're building a mystery."
Lucas couldn't help but smile. While he didn't know why Marshall put in the religious references—because of his disdain for it probably—it made sense with the mystery motif. He was never doing something obvious.
"You live in a church, Where you sleep with voodoo doll's, And you won't give up the search for the ghosts in the halls. You where sandals in the snow, And a smile that won't wash away, Can you look out the window, Without your shadow getting in the way? Oh, you're so beautiful, With an edge and a charm, And so careful when I'm in your arms."
Suddenly, Lucas didn't enjoy the song as much. He skipped ahead a bit.
"You woke up screaming aloud! A prayer from your secret god, You feed of our fears, And you hold back your tears. Oh, you give us a tantrum, And a know-it-all grin, Just when we need one, When the evenings thin, Oh, you're so beautiful, Beautiful fucked up man—"
He stopped immediately. And began to look at the ice cream song in a whole new light. Swallowing hard, he closed the book. Regretting reading it. And struggling to find a reason for it. A joke, he finally decided, it had to be a joke. Payback for what he did to Vaughn. A bit of fun.
Even Lucas knew that was pushing it though. It didn't add up. Marshall would have done something more physical or psychological. And he would have been awake to see it. But he was completely out of it.
Pushing the book back under some paper, he backed away to the bed and laid down on it. He had a lot of thinking to do. And in hindsight, it all made so much sense. Without thinking, he returned to the desk, almost subconsciously, and picked up the book again.
This time, he kept it with him and slid it into a backpack. He'd photocopy it later. Maybe confront Marshall about it—yeah right! His thoughts screamed at him—and try and find out why he'd do this. Maybe ask Josie about it.
Maybe.
Miss Meeder moved along the shadows like a demon. She'd bided her time long enough. She needed to confront him now. Closure would be good for her. So she could put it all behind her, so she could leave this behind.
"The address hasn't changed at least," she murmured, feeling nostalgic.
Silently, she moved to the door. Holding her hand up ready to knock, she froze up. She couldn't disturb them. Now wasn't the time. She's waited this long. What would a few more days matter?
Regretfully, she retracted her hand, and turned away from the house.
"Later," she said. "I promise you."