Day 4 B. F.
Clotile, Jackson and I planned another study session for Thursday, tomorrow. She usually sat by me in Homeroom. Jackson sat by me in English. In History and Science he sat with his other podnas.
She was wearing one of my skirts with one of her tops and some chunky boots, creating her own style. I couldn't have pulled it off, but she totally rocked it. Just like Mel, she had attitude to spare. The boys followed her with their eyes everywhere she went, including Brandon. When Brandon had met me at one of my classes yesterday, Jack and Clotile had walked by. Brandon's mouth had nearly hung open and he couldn't take his eyes off her. I would have been thrilled, except for two things.
First, Jack saw the whole thing and had given me a knowing smirk, taking a swig from his flask.
Second, after they'd left, Brandon had asked me, again, about my decision about spending the night at Spencer's the weekend after my birthday. I told him I was still thinking about it.
In history, I sat waiting for class to start. I sketched in my contraband journal. I'd done a nice sketch last night after Clotile and Jackson had left that Mom had liked. When I was happy, I always drew plants. It had been inspired by the two roses from yesterday. After all, if plants really did like me, then I must have the best green thumb ever right? And if that was true, then someday I could grow the best garden ever. I'd drawn a huge orchard in the background, Rose bushes in the front and climbing roses on one side, blackberry vines climbing the other side, rows of crops on a field: strawberries, melons, grains, beans, corn, and such. Mom had liked it, so had I really. Maybe someday I could create such a paradise.
What I was drawing today wasn't anything nearly so pretty. I didn't draw my nightmares because I liked them. I drew them because something in me was afraid that if I didn't get them out of my head and onto paper, that they might somehow stain my brain. After three nights of the same nightmare of the red witch, that evil bitch needed to come out. I'd had it with her. If only Jackson and Gaston's conversation would quit distracting me.
They were sitting a couple of rows behind me. Gaston had started talking about the apparently many and varied gaiennes, or girlfriends Jackson had in the Basin. Was he a player then? Sounded like it. He was in a different league now though. Best of luck to him here. Made my interest in him turn sour, well, that and the picture I was looking at. I continued sketching.
I was fairly well secure in my isolation. The window to my right hand, with which I drew. Person in front and behind me. My left arm up and bent, sheltering the sketchpad, which by now held a fairly gruesome scene. I probably would have been grossed out by the image had I not watched it happen thrice the last three nights while the red headed which laughed in morbid glee at the poor man's pain and torturous end. How callous and unfeeling was she to be able to laugh at such awful things. Why did she always have to suck the life out of the plants I loved? To use plants in such awful and deadly ways? Did she have no heart? No compassion? I hated her.
Gaston continued distracting me, still pumping Jackson for info about his latest doe tag. I snuck a glance over my shoulder. Jackson's expression was smug as he replied, "Embrasser et raconter? Jamais." Kiss and tell? Never.
I looked back at my drawing. The evidence of my crazy. These hard copies that I needed to get out of my brain were what had sentenced me to CLC last spring. You can deny being crazy all you want. But when your mom has evidence like this, you're screwed…and yet, I sighed, and continued drawing. Yep. Must be crazy, because I'm still doing it right? Just got to be smarter about it this time around.
Gaston drew my attention again though. "T'aimes l'une de ces filles?" Did Jackson like any one the girls here?
His baritone reply, "Une fille, peut-etre." One girl, maybe.
Again I felt his eyes on me. Mel had asked me earlier if Jackson really thought he had a shot at me, as though I was totally out of his league. And maybe, to most folks, it would seem on the surface that I was.
But the thing was, something deep inside me said that yes, Jackson did have a shot at me. Because stuff on the surface is just that, surface. It's stuff that in the long run, doesn't really matter at all. It's stuff on the inside that counts. There's something about Jackson that called to me. I didn't know what it was, and yes, I had a boyfriend.
But again, my boyfriend was one who, on the surface, we matched up, but underneath, maybe we really didn't. The more he pressured me about sex, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I didn't want to have sex with someone I felt meh about having sex with. Surely that would just lead to meh sex right? And call me crazy, ha! Crazy!, but if I'm going to have sex, I'd like it to be really really great sex, with someone that I'm in love with, with someone that I don't want to be without. Brandon just isn't that person, even though he is a great person, and a nice guy.
However, I didn't feel like being with a player either. I was not going to be with someone who would be more than happy to drop me for the next hot fille to come along. So I decided I'd just play at the friend zone with Jackson. I was already playing in that zone though. Whenever I saw him at the lockers, I gave him a cool smile and walked away. He seemed amazed that I didn't sigh and fall into flirtation like most of the other girls he was used to.
I glanced over my shoulder to calculate what his thoughts might be.
Yikes! Caught.
His gaze was already on me. We stared at each other. Judging by his black hair, which I secretly thought would look better long, squared jaw, and those cheekbones, he must have some Native American ancestry. No wonder he has so many gaiennes. And cue the blush. I turned back around to hide it.
Mr. Broussard introduced today's lesson as a history of Cajun's or basically Cajun PR. I tuned him out. I already knew the basics of the history from my own reading and what Gran had taught me.
Pretty tragic really. They were strong Catholics who were told they had to convert to The Church of England. They said no and were persecuted for it to a nearly genocidal degree. Homes and wealth confiscated, French Canadians were force relocated to the Louisiana area. The first thing they did when they landed, destitute, many of them separated from their families, many dead from starvation and from exposure to the elements, was to thank God and baptize new babies and bless new marriages. Cajun was a shortened version of Canadian, acadian, cajun.
The students had already formed their own opinions on the transfers. Clotile – H O T. The boys – Don't mess with them and steer as clear as possible. They kept to themselves unless someone bothered them or Clotile. If that happened, Trouble makers with a capital T.
The junior paper on local history making up 40% of our grade would be a partner project. Not a problem, I thought, looking around. I could work with pretty much anyone.
Jackson Deveaux and Evie Greene.
Oh. My. What?
I glanced back at him and he smiled and lifted his chin at me in acknowledgment. Paired with the boy who'd been staring at me for days? Well, if I was being fair, I'd been staring at him for days too. Was turn about fair play in staring contests? Didn't people grow out of those in elementary school? Apparently not.
"For the last half of class you'll sit with your partner, working out meeting and research schedules for the semester."
Meeting with Jackson alone for the entire semester? Yikes! I stared out the window. This was the same guy who'd stared at my ass in the Porsche. I was still totally embarrassed about that.
When everyone else began moving, he patted the empty seat beside him with a smirk. I glanced out the window, stalling for time, flipping the sketchpad closed absently. The sky was darkening. Were we about to get rain? We never got rain anymore. I glanced back at Jackson and he stared at me with a frown. Did he expect me to jump at the chance to sit next to him? I sighed. I picked up my sketchpad to put it in my bag and get ready to move but again the window caught my eye.
The sun was…gone.
Night was falling. And across the sky, ethereal lights flickered, crimson and violet, like Mardi Gras streamers. I placed a hand on the glass, Jackson and the class now totally forgotten, my mouth parted as I gaped at the scene before me. Flames arced over the school, those eerie lights like a twinkling crown above the fire. Across the grounds, a river of snakes slithered over each other, their scales reflecting the lights above. Panicked rats scurried alongside the creatures that usually ate them.
The flames descended, searing them to ash, everything to ash.
The apocalypse. Just like my visions from last spring. The voices of the doctors told me, Reject the delusion. Center yourself; you're in control, focused.
Only, the roses had been real. My plant abilities weren't delusions, they were real. So what if these visions, weren't delusions, but warnings? And if they were warnings, how much time did we have? I'd had them last year and nothing had happened. Why were they starting again now?
My breathing was panicked.
Jackson slammed down in the desk next to mine. "Are you ignoring me now? Think you're too good to be my podna?" That word also meant friend in Cajun.
'No! Not ignoring you. It's just, something's happening." My eyes turned back to the window. A boy was strolling through the flames outside, stopping about fifteen feet from the line of windows. Though fire raged all around him, he was untouched. He had even features, a mop of dark brown hair, and deep brown eyes. He was tall, lean and muscular. Attractive even.
I'd never seen people in my visions before! Why was I always in these impossible situations?
"What?" Jackson asked suspiciously. He looked out the window, obviously not seeing what I was seeing.
"Evie!" The imaginary boy was speaking to me!? "Where are your allies? So much to learn. Know no plays! Allegiances forming!" he said, his demeanor harried. "Beware the old bloodlines, the other families that chronicle. They know what you are! Beware the lure: a wounded creature, a light in darkness, a feast when your stomach cleaves. Allies, Evie! Beware!"
He was…talking…to me. Dimly I heard Jackson saying something to me as well but I couldn't focus on that. I felt totally off-kilter. What could I say that would be alright to both boys?
"I need to pay attention and focus. It's hard right now though. Later would be better. Can we talk later today?" I actually felt proud of myself.
"You must prepare Empress." The boy said. "I go over the edge, the dog at my heels, but the moon is waxing, Empress. You must be ready. Field of battle. Arsenal. Obstacles. Foes. It begins directly at the End. And the Beginning is nigh."
Empress? That dredged up memories of my Gran asking me, "Does Empress Evie want some ice cream?"
And something about the boy going over the edge with a dog at his heels tugged at my memory too.
But the other part, about the beginning is nigh, that part made me clue in right quick.
"Behold the field of battle," the boy said, motioning toward the wasteland of cinder. "Arsenal?" he queried in a hopeful tone. "Obstacles? Foes? No? Ah, you listen poorly!"Then his face brightened. "Next time I'll talk louder…
"When is the beginning? When should we begin?" I rephrased and interrupted, hoping it would work for both boys. I was totally ignoring Jackson now, I hadn't a clue what he was saying and I knew that made me look like an idiot, but this vision, if it was real, was huge, maybe even life saving.
"Do you listen at last Empress? I warn my friend." He looked hopeful, but still gravely serious. "The moon is waxing. It begins directly at the End. The beginning is nigh. There are only days left. Prepare!"
The scene vanished, and I turned to Jackson, shaken and panicked by all I'd witnessed and experienced. It was killing me that there was no one I could share this with.
The boy told me I listened poorly. I must have been ignoring Jack the whole time. He must think I'm a complete and total idiot. Suddenly I realized Jackson had been talking this whole time and had just asked me, "Are you even listening to what I've been saying, you?"
That struck me as hysterically funny, so like the crazy person I am, and because I'm strung so tightly these days and getting so little sleep, I laughed.
My third day of school. The visions had returned. I'd planned to be done with school in two years and be out and to college but if the visions were true, would any of this even be here in two years? I wouldn't make two weeks at this rate. What if Mom sent me back to CLC and I was stuck there? I'd had these visions last year and nothing happened. How did I know if anything was about to happen now? I laughed like an idiot.
"You're laughing at me?"
What? He thought I was laughing at him? Backtrack Evie! He clenched those big, taped fists like he was just dying to hit something. How true was that 'cage the rage' rumor? Could I calm the beast? Was it too late?
"No! No. I'm not laughing at you." I hastily tried to dig myself out of the hole I'd dug. "I'm having a hard time dealing with something right now and it has nothing to do with you. I'm sorry."
"What were you laughing at then?" His look was suspicious.
Um…if it's all the same to you I'd rather not chat with a perfect stranger about the voices in my head. And how you and that random person, whoever he is, both agree that I don't listen well enough. Guess I really need to work harder on that. And I need to figure out what a waxing moon is and how many days until that kind of moon is complete...on the other hand, he was Cajun, they were, as a group, more open to voodoo and readings and visions right? What if I was right? What if I could save someone?
"Have you ever seen something you couldn't explain but you knew…somehow, there was something to it, something that you needed to pay attention to?"
"Mais, yeah. Why?" All of a sudden his eyes were focused on me like lasers. "Did you see something out that window that I didn't?"
"What if I did?" I whispered, my whole body started to shiver with nervous energy, trembling from head to toe, as though everything depended on his answer.
I saw him take my body in before he slowly answered, "I'd say I want to know what you saw and what it means."
"I'll show you the sketch tomorrow." I whispered. His eyes flicked to my sketchbook, as though wondering now just what else I might have been drawing the last few days. He nodded, and we talked some about our upcoming project.
I thought I might as well throw out a question in passing. I was dying of curiosity and he already thought I was a little off. As we packed up our books I asked off hand, "Jack, you wouldn't happen to know what a waxing moon is would you?"
"Mais, yeah. When the moon is getting fuller. We're coming up on a full moon in about four days."
I froze in shock. I stared at him and put my hand on his arm, pulling him to a stop. He'd just shouldered his bag and was about to leave our desk.
"How do you know this?" I demanded. Seemed strange to me that he'd just know something like that off the top of his head.
He looked from my hand on his arm, down into my eyes and smiled a little. "I fish most every day Evie. Best times to fish are sunrise, sunset, moonrise and moonset, so I see that most every day. I pay attention. Full moon is in four days cher."
He stepped closer and put his hand around my waist, pulling me close. His face turned from boyish confidence to a hunter's intensity. I felt a shiver course through me as he invaded my space fully. "Now what I'd like to know is, why the timing of the next full moon seems so very important to you?"
I swallowed, and realized my hand was still gripping his upper arm, and we were alone in the classroom. I told him in a breathy voice, which was about all I could manage, feeling his torso against mine, "You'll understand when you see the sketch tomorrow."
He stared into my eyes for a long moment, then gave me a nod and used his hands to turn my waist and give me a gentle shove along toward the door, picking up my bag and hanging it on my locker for me before going to meet Lionell at his own locker.
While I tried to recover my composure, I heard Jackson and Lionel talking in French. We were practically locker buddies, only three lockers between us. Jackson was sorting his books and bag, but somehow managed to keep his eyes on me. I kept mine on my books and bag…mostly.
"Are you making a run at that one? I thought she was just a bonne a rien jolie bebelle like all the other bitches in this rich place." Lionell motioned to me with a jerk of his head.
That meant 'good for nothing pretty doll.'
"I thought she might be, at first, but there's more to this one than meets the eye." Jackson answered, looking at me. His gaze was speculative. I wondered if he knew that I knew what they were saying. He knew I'd followed the workers around when I was little, and he probably knew my grandmother had taught me some, but Jack didn't know how well I spoke it.
"Evangeline Green is a puzzle. Puzzles are always interesting."
While Lionel snickered, I gritted my teeth at the first, then blushed at the second. I didn't want them to know I understood.
Jackson's sharp and perceptive gaze took in my stiffened shoulders and red cheeks. He raised his eyes and said continued in French, "And I think I just learned another piece of this particular puzzle. For example, I'll bet that jolie bebelle understands every word we're saying right now."
Yikes! Caught! Just as I'd learned and was learning even more, Jackson Devroux was shrewd. It would be hard to pull a fast one on him.
"How is that possible?" Lionell's tone was disbelieving. He couldn't fathom how a rich girl from this parish would speak their tongue. I probably wouldn't, if not for Gran.
Yeah, I couldn't lie worth beans. I blushed hotter, looking away and trying to finish up at my locker.
The bell rang and he waved Lionell off, leaving Jackson and I alone. He came closer to me, and in a voice that I was coming to like way too much asked, "Comment bien parles-tu le Francais Cadien?"
-How well do you speak Cajun French?
Should I answer? Hmm, the boy said he liked puzzles didn't he? Let him figure it out. I looked around behind me as though Clotile might be coming up. Then I turned back to him. "Are you talking to me?"
He looked shocked and at the same time strangely pleased? "Tu parles Francais!"
"What's that you're saying?" I smiled with what I hoped was cheerful confusion.
He stalked forward, seeming to be both threatening and comforting at the same time. Now I really was confused. I leaned back against the locker and he place a hand beside my head as he leaned over me. Just how did he manage that?
"Like you doan know, you." He had a smirk. Was he teasing me?
I felt tongue-tied. I enjoyed him being close to me waaaay too much. Why didn't my heart pound like this for Brandon? I needed more air. My lips felt dry so I licked them. Jackson's gaze dropped to my mouth and I froze, then quickly sucked my tongue back in.
After long moments passed, his eyes came back to mine, and he leaned in a hair closer before he said, again in Cajun French, "I'll keep a close watch on you, Evangeline."
Was it wrong that I was looking forward to that a little? I had some sketching to do before tomorrow.
That afternoon after school I sat in the sugar cane fields, hidden from my mom, hopefully where she'd never find me. I told her I thought better out here.
She didn't question that, saying only, "Oh! Well, whatever helps you concentrate sweety." She gave me a hug. "I'm so proud of how seriously you're taking your studies this year. Do you have plans to study with your group again? Jack and Clotile right?"
"Um..we haven't talked about it yet, maybe tomorrow though?"
"That would be nice. Well, look out for snakes and come in for dinner alright?
"Sure Mom."
So here I sat. I had done some homework, because I really did think better out here, but now I was sketching furiously. I had sharpened pencils and colored pencils.
I'd decided to draw four pictures to illustrate the vision.
The first was a replica of my bedroom walls. The Ominous storm clouds, parted to reveal a full moon. I wasn't sure if there would be rain. But I drew trees and sugar cane fields blowing as if in a stiff wind like we'd get right before a storm. Dark blue on the horizon suggested possible heavy rain.
On the second page I drew the lights. The vivid crimson and violet flickering streamers. I drew people underneath, standing there awestruck, mindless, waiting for a doom they were unaware of. Standing by cars, standing at windows, beside doors. In the bottom right corner I drew the key he needed to know. A cutout of a simple home with a cellar where I drew Jackson. And Clotile. After a second thought I drew the heads of their Cajun friends beside them. Safe.
On the third page I drew the fire raining down, the snakes slithering and the rats running. Total destruction. The death of everything. I put this on a field of green, like the boy had shown me from the school room window. I didn't draw the boy. For some reason I didn't know, I left him out.
Mom called to me. Dinner was ready. I packed it in, yelling I was coming.
Later that night, after doing normal girl things like playing around with my Ipod, amusing Mom with some of the songs I'd found lately, and downloading a few of her old favorites from back in the day that I had to admit were pretty good, we called it a night. My taste in music was fairly eclectic. I liked most things. Occasionally I messed around and put my own words to the tune if I had a good enough reason, which was fun in summer dance camps and cheer camps at times. Those could be a riot. So, if the tune was great, and the ones Mom had suggested were, I'd load them up and learn them, maybe change them later. Older tunes with new words were usually a hit with parents who watched our dance shows.
I looked at the wall calendar in the kitchen before bed. There was a lunar notation on there. Jack had been right, I noticed with a thudding heart. We were just four days away from a full moon, nearly three days now. It was on a Sunday. My birthday was the following day on a Monday. Was there some strange significance to that?
Later that night, after Mom was in bed, I entered my ensuite bath and turned on the light, locking the door. I had one more sketch to finish.
The last page showed the empty world with piles of ash where people had once stood. Again I drew the cut out of a small home and a cellar with Jackson and his friends. Tears clung to my lashes and I dashed them away. I sniffed. Glanced at the clock. 12:20 am. Not too bad. Not that I was ever anxious for sleep. I'd only have horrid nightmares of her again. I wondered with morbid curiosity what horrors were in store for me tonight.
I'm still oddly hopeful as I left the bathroom and flicked off the light. Maybe, just maybe, these drawings will not be used against me. Maybe they'll save someone, someone who's becoming oddly special to me for reasons I don't even understand. There's just…something about him. And odd power that radiates.
I know it was odd to draw in my bathroom, but I hadn't wanted the light shining under my door. Yes I was pretty paranoid, but you would be too if your mother had sent you to a summer camp for the insane and made sure you took your crazy pills every day. No, our relationship wasn't perfect. I desperately wished I could trust her with this. But the last time I did she pretty well betrayed that trust.
On the one hand, objectively, I get it. It sounds crazy. Your mom and grandmother and daughter having visions and dreams could sound cultish and I get that you would want that shit stamped out. So a sane person would do what they have to do to make their daughter safe from that kind of stuff. I get it. I could even get behind it. Objectively.
On the other hand, the rosebush literally stretched itself out and gave me two roses yesterday. I'm having visions of an apocalypse and if I don't listen people could die. So what am I supposed to do? What if I don't do anything and I have to live with it that people I love died and I did nothing? What if I talk about this shit and it gets back to Mom and she sends me back to that camp? Ugh! I really want to tear my hair out! And who is that boy I saw in my vision today?
I walk to my bed in the dark and stash my journal between the mattresses. What will Jackson think when he sees these? Will I have the guts to give it to him?