two ~ when kincaid girls go criminally insane


Friday, October 30, 2005

Theresa


Theresa found that she worked best when high.

It was a tried and tested method, although it was less the hyper-activeness of her brain and more the soul-numbing benefits that got her through it. More than halfway through her calculus assignment, she snapped her binder shut and tossed it into her bag. Seemed that today even the drugs couldn't help her through one of her most hated courses. Once the bell rang, she gathered up her things, stood and gave her crabby teacher a nod of acknowledgment, before getting the hell out of that classroom.

It wasn't that she was a total failure with the subject—she just struggled terribly with the language of numbers. In her younger years, it used to be a fucking drag, but at least now she was at a place where she could keep up, though just barely. She had to, in order to not raise her parents' attention. Theresa grimaced at the imagery that came to mind—it was only this recent year that Jennie and Lionel really laid off her case. She was not gonna' spend another year under their constant probing and hovering if she could help it.

"You good?" Natalie, a senior who occasionally let Theresa bum a smoke, sauntered up beside her, books and folders neatly stacked under her arms.

Theresa was puzzled at first until she realized her classmate must've seen her wincing. "Yeah. Just a headache, you know?"

"I've got painkillers," Nat offered up, but Theresa shook her head, muttering an excuse about it passing or whatever. And it wasn't like she was lying to her friend—she had been having migraines as of late. Ones that were increasingly getting worse by the day and Theresa knew well enough that over the counter medication wouldn't make a dent in them. The only aid that seemed to work was the glorious relief of pot.

Nat opened her mouth to respond to Theresa, but she bumped into someone, lurching into Theresa's side, nearly dropping her things to the ground. Theresa caught hold of Nat's arm, helping her friend readjust her textbooks and folders before both girls looked up and frowned at a chagrined Jared Cameron. He nodded in acknowledgment, shutting his locker. "My bad."

Even though it was Natalie who bumped into him, and not the other way around, Theresa wordlessly stared and Natalie rolled her eyes at the sophomore. They made their way down the hall without further comment.

It wasn't like Jared was some sort of an asshole or anything—he was actually a pretty decent guy. However, whenever it came to him—or more specifically—his group of friends, most gave them a wide berth. Sam Uley, the guy he ran with and the foreman of Jared's bizarre trio of friends, wasn't exactly well-liked around the rez, and really, who could blame anyone for their low opinion of the bastard? Theresa herself had a couple of things to say about that prick, none of which were favorable.

Some genius coined the term 'the junkie squad' for Sam and his entourage, and it stuck, funnily enough. If only because of how shredded they'd managed to become in a matter of weeks. And, yeah, Theresa had noticed the muscles—the abs whenever they weren't wearing shirts, noticed how when they did wear them, that the fabric would stretch tightly across their chests. Theresa scoffed to herself. She would know. Not only did she share a class with Paul Lahote, he also lived two houses down from her. She'd glimpsed more than her fair share of that insane eight-pack.

Yet, she also knew that it just wasn't possible. The only seemingly logical answer to the strangeness surrounding those Herculean boys was that they were juicing themselves up stupid with steroids. Except even that reasoning wasn't likely either. Drugs taken in such quantities in a short amount of time would surely have at least one side effect. Acne? Weight gain? They had skin as smooth as butter and the only thing they had an abundance of in regards to their weight was pure muscle. The mystery surrounding Sam Uley's cult bore something interesting to think about but Theresa just didn't care enough to speculate. And besides, those total narcs were just about the last thing Theresa wanted on her mind.

Thankfully, Nat steered her line of thinking away from that bothersome group when she suggested the girls skip study hall to smoke. "We can even hit up my uncle Rodger's joint, afterward. Auntie made way too much meat pies last night and he's trying to get them off from his hands."

It was tempting only because her high from the morning was fading, and Theresa almost conceded to the offer—but it was Leah Clearwater who dissuaded her when she sidled up beside Nat and jumped into the conversation. "You've got that tutoring thing during free period, Tess. Extra credit, remember?"

Theresa huffed in disappointment. "Ugh, too bad."

Nat pouted at Leah's small knowing smile. "Buzzkill."

"Trust me. You'll thank me later for it."

Natalie winked at Theresa before entering the social studies' classroom as a way of saying goodbye and Theresa turned back to Leah with an eyebrow raised. "Was that really necessary?"

Her friend shrugged. "You're not leaving me to do all the work. And besides, you know your mom would totally throw a fit."

"She'd have to catch me first." Theresa shook her head. "And anyway, it's only Maya and Brady. They're smart kids. They probably would've figured it out."

In fact, Theresa had a feeling that her tutoring the other sixth grader, Brady Fuller, was coming to be detrimental. She wasn't positive or anything, but it seemed like the kid was infatuated with her. Oftentimes, he was too distracted to get anything productive done, and usually just gawked at her. Of course, she only helped in literature and science, since the two were her strong suits, but she needed that little extra credit. On top of the college courses she was taking in Seattle, her parents wouldn't settle for anything less.

Theresa had attended the Quileute Tribal School since the start of her freshman year, when she returned to La Push to come live with her mother. Before that was a private all-girls school in Seattle her father placed her in when she was staying with him full-time. Lionel only wanted for her to have easier access to better opportunities. His genius solution? To stick his only, living daughter in a prestigious and snobbish institute where most of Seattle's affluent families sent their preteen daughters to attend. She couldn't say which place she liked better, since anything at all to do with assignments and paperwork were the bane of her existence, but the tribal school, in terms of socializing, was a far cry from pale-face, tween raging cunts who gossiped behind Theresa's back whenever they thought she wasn't looking.

Younger children and teenagers alike all attended the very building she was in. Sometimes, older kids transferred to schools in nearby towns or cities, but Jennifer Black wasn't having it for her daughter, who, after a brief two year hiatus from the reservation, she wanted to be as immersed in her culture as possible. There were few members of the Quileute Nation who fluently spoke the language, so Jennie made all measures to ensure her daughter took in all the education that the tribal school had to offer.

"Yeah? Whenever you get stoned, you literally turn into a mute. Someone would've caught on to it eventually," Leah countered as she stopped by her locker. Theresa waited with her, for the sole purpose of those calculus notes. They were her lifeline in that godawful class, and one of the reasons contributing to how she maintained a C-average in calculus. She had to give Leah some credit—the natural born genius when it came to just about any subject you could throw at her. Theresa had no doubt that her friend would get far in life. Aside from her intellect, Leah Clearwater was one determined woman.

"I do not."

"Do too."

"Whatever." Theresa rolled her eyes. "Got any plans for Halloween?"

"I think my schedule's free for tomorrow. Why?"

"My friend in the city is throwing this thing. You should tag along."

Leah raised an eyebrow and gave Theresa a folder filled with papers. "Who's your friend?"

Theresa hadn't seen her drug dealer in almost a week, and after all the organizing she had to do for his little night club, he'd personally invited her to come after that taxing day. The free, top-notch booze was a given, although really, it had been forever since Theresa had partied. She wasn't about to pass that up. And besides, it seemed like Leah could use a night to let loose. "My classmate over in Seattle. He's a jackass but his ragers are about the only good thing he's got going for him."

Leah just gave a half-hearted shrug, though she smirked at Theresa's description for Reggie. "We'll see."

The rest of the day became a blur of endless paperwork and some interactions with her friends on the side, and the more the day went on, the more eager Theresa became at the prospect of rolling herself a packed joint. She knew her mother would be caught up with work and wouldn't come back until nine, at the latest, so to say that she was going to get higher than the moon was an absurd understatement.

Theresa wished she could say that her last class before dismissal went by quickly—that it'd been a cinch. Physics usually went that way for her. The teacher had been droning on, reviewing over the fundamentals of energy and momentum, and Theresa had quietly took her notes, sitting in her usual seat beside the window. Mr. Sharpe was in the midst of passing around the assignments when she first saw it in the corner of her eye, just out of the window and standing in the field of grass.

It was indescribable. An oddity, both real and unreal; it was a wavering dark shadow and it was concrete as this building. Was it some kind of a spirit? No, not a spirit. A demon she couldn't make sense of. No matter how much she watched it, she couldn't even begin to fathom what it was. She hated it.

She hated how she knew it was right before her very eyes and she still couldn't get a good grasp of what it was—hated how she couldn't hear anything beyond the sound of her own thundering heart in her ears, but mostly, she just hated how petrified she was.

Theresa wished she could do more than just clutch her fist to her mouth.

The shadowy figure mirrored her action. She felt a little more than unsteady, her world was at odds with her. She felt like she could implode at any second.

The thing tilted its head at her. It was such a human-like gesture that Theresa could've thrown up, right then and there. To say a she didn't know what to do would've been an egregious understatement. She wanted to run away and scream, abandoning all of her things on her desk and cause a scene, but she was all too transfixed on the strangeness of the situation. She was disturbed, shocked, but weirdly enough, she was calm.

Theresa had seen this all before—just a little after Irene's death. She thought that period of her life was over. She thought that her craziness had been cured. If it had been up to her she would've tried to completely forget about the nightmares and the horrifying visions that had plagued her since her sister died, the ones her father had rid her of. But it was starting again. These delusions had come back with a striking vengeance.

She recoiled when she felt something grip her arm and for one wild moment, she thought everything had been over. That she didn't even think to at least tell her parents that she cared for them, for the last time. But no. It was her teacher, who was peering down at her in alarm.

"Are you alright?"

Absolutely not. "Yeah," she replied and shrugged, trying to play it cool, "I'm fine. Just feeling a little weird."

Mr. Sharpe frowned, peering at her. "You sure?"

Now would've been an excellent time to grab her teacher by the shoulders, shake him and say, no, I'm not alright at all and don't look now but there's something standing out the window and I can't even begin to tell you what it is because none of this makes sense to me.

But aside from her parents, no one knew about her mental illness, how her brain had fried from grief all those years ago, and she wasn't keen on letting any more people know how much of a nutcase she actually was. So she looked Mr. Sharpe right back into his eyes, ignoring the way the shadow—she couldn't think of anything else to call it—crept back into her peripheral, refusing to leave her. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Just as well, the teacher couldn't see it. Just as well, only Theresa could. And just like that, she sobered up.

She was skirting out of the classroom once the bell had rung, placing her homework in her bag all the while, avoiding the clamoring of buoyant kids seemingly happy to be done with their classes for the week. Once she went outside, she took one deep breath of the pine-tree flavored, misty air, and it was only then she barely managed to hang on to some semblance of reality.

Wiping her sweaty palms against her jeans, she chanced a glance into the soccer field, and was momentarily relieved to find that the 'thing' had all but disappeared.

Her relief went straight to hell as spine-chilling dread replaced it, curling into her stomach when she felt something touching her shoulder. Theresa whirled around, eyes wide and mouth poised to scream.

But it was just Leah.

"Whoa," her friend intoned, eyes flashing with genuine concern as she took in Theresa's state, "you okay?"

The answer to that would be a resounding fuck no. Not when Leah had given her a minor heart attack. Theresa hadn't even realized she stopped breathing and she heaved in a gulp of air as she tried to force out a hoarse laugh, but it didn't land. "Yeah." She straightened up a little, trying to ignore her pounding heart to gather her bearings. "Yeah. I'm fine. Walk with me?"

Leah didn't look like she believed Theresa for a second, but thankfully, didn't press the issue. "Sure. Didn't bring your car?"

She hastily shook her head. "Did you?"

Leah shrugged. "Nah. It's a nice day out. Wanted to walk by the beach before I headed off to work."

If Theresa's heart wasn't in her mouth, she might've dubiously stared at her friend. It must've been about forty-five degrees outside now, unsurprisingly, as it was nearing the beginning of November. Luckily she was dressed for the weather. "Where's Seth?"

"Tied up with basketball." Leah nodded into the direction of the parking lot. "Let's get out of here."

The pair of girls start walking out of the lot, with a few stragglers walking ahead in front of them. The fog of the sky had darkened at some point, although just barely, but enough to know that a storm was brewing. Theresa was the first to speak.

"Leah?" She started out slowly, hesitant. She knew she had her friend's attention when Leah straightened slightly, "what time are you off?"

"I'm closing tonight. Why?"

Theresa secretly cursed whatever higher being there was for her recent shitty luck. Being alone with just her thoughts was the last thing she wanted at the moment. But she indifferently shrugged, knowing that she'd just have to bother someone else. Maybe Natalie. "Just wanted to hang out is all."

"Seriously?" Leah stared at Theresa with a disbelieving raise of an eyebrow, "bullshit. What's this really about? Jake trying to tell you scary stories again?"

"It's about jack-shit and what do you care if Jake's bothering me? You're not my fucking mother," she defensively snapped.

"Theresa Nadine Kincaid, you take that back or I'm revoking your privileges of free pastries."

Leah worked at the Howlin' Hounds cafe, a local hotspot on the rez that presented as a coffeehouse and a bakery. They served the best goods as far as Theresa could tell and Leah's statement elicited a surprised laugh out of her.

Amused, Leah was on the precipice of saying something else when Theresa's hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She didn't know what to make of this feeling—this overwhelming awareness of impending danger—but knew it was a warning. Some screwed up type of sixth sense. Before she knew what she was doing, she pulled Leah into a dead stop, and with all of her strength, pushed her aside.

The sound of a vehicle making a massive screeching noise, followed by the undeniable sound screaming boys reached her ear, and when her eyes followed the noise she was surprised to find a truck, a very familiar truck, coming to a stop merely inches away from where Leah was just standing.

Theresa then realized where she knew the truck from and made a strangled noise of shock. Leah, a bit disoriented at first, stood and patted herself down to make sure she wasn't injured. Then her eyes cleared and started to fill with rage when she too, recognized the truck. She climbed up from the ditch she'd fallen in and stomped over to the vehicle. Her fists began to pound against the window, and she was screaming obscenities all the while. Once the window rolled down, Theresa was perplexed to find that the driver of her uncle's truck was no one other than Quil Ateara.

"What the fuck, you little shit?!" Leah snarled, seeming like she was just two seconds away from strangling the Ateara, "were you trying to hit me? Are you high? Or are you just fucking blind?" Leah had her arms crossed over her chest as she threw the poor boy a murderous look.

Still flabbergasted, Quil stuttered, attempting to come up with a reasonable excuse. It was no secret that Leah Clearwater scared the ever loving crap out of him. Jacob Black suddenly peeked out from the passenger's seat, eyes wide as he gaped at Leah. Only, the look of Jacob's astonished expression had the Clearwater beginning to seethe.

Momentarily, Theresa forgot about the the chill that was still running down her spine and her recent relapse into insanity, and she stalked up behind Leah, nudging her aside. The younger girl nearly ripped the door off its hinges as she smirked at Jacob's wide eyes, his gaping mouth.

"Jake, you are so fucked."

"Oh, gimme' a break, Tess. It's not like it was intentional," He griped, testy response more or less directed at his cousin.

Theresa tilted her head to the side, both exasperated and amused. Leaning forward against the truck's door, she coolly raised an eyebrow. "Uncle Billy's just gonna' love it when I tell him how you and your friends almost rammed into Leah with his truck."

Jacob scoffed, his initial shock apparently wearing off. "Yeah—like you're gonna' fucking snitch. And, clearly, I'm not the one driving here."

Quil finally turned to the side, scowling at him. "Way to throw me under the bus, man."

Embry Call intervened, holding up two hands in a sign of surrender. He looked out from the middle seat and earnestly said, "Look—Quil's sorry, alright? This was all just a big mess up. He didn't mean it."

Quil nodded, eagerly latching on to Embry's sincere explanation. "Yeah, I just wasn't looking where I was going. It's my bad."

"No harm, no foul, right?" Embry still had his arms raised and he started to look truly remorseful once he glimpsed the look of dissatisfaction on Leah's sour expression, "or…just get in. We were just about to head to Sully's. Our treat. That cool?"

"Please," Leah scoffed, snapping a finger at Quil, "you really think a meal's gonna' just magically make me forget how terrible of a fucking driver you are? You're lucky I'm not hurt, Ateara. Otherwise, we'd be having an entirely different conversation."

Quil bristled, swiftly coming into defense of his driving skills. "I got distracted, alright? And I can assure you that it's got nothing to do with how I run a car, Clearwater."

"He's right," Jake evenly said in a firm tone, "we distracted him. I wouldn't let Quil drive the truck otherwise, Leah."

There was a sudden shift in the air. Her cousin's statement visibly diminished most of Leah's anger, and what took its place was a fatigued and uncomfortable silence. Theresa had to avert her eyes toward the forest line behind the vehicle. Because, no, of course Jake wouldn't. Her aunt Sarah passed away due to a car accident more than six years ago. This subject, for Theresa, was one that drudged sad and distressing memories—so she just didn't want to imagine how Jake must've been feeling. It actually might've been one of many reasons contributing as to why Jake was such a grease monkey.

"Whatever," Leah grumbled, turning her heel, walking over to the ditch to retrieve her bag that must've fallen in, she called out to the truck, "just be more careful from now on, yeah?"

"The offer on the food's still on the table," Embry tried again, except his gaze seemed to probe Theresa's tense figure.

"Next time," Theresa half-heartedly said, readjusting her bag. At the same time, Leah waved this offer away with the flick of her hand, "Fuck off, Embry."


After aimlessly wandering about First Beach for over half an hour, Theresa tried calling up Natalie to see what her friend was up to, seeing as Leah had left ten minutes ago to get ready for her shift and she didn't know who else could keep her company on such short notice. She knew she was being an idiot for trying to put off her problem for now. She just needed a little more time before she dealt with the repercussions. What Theresa really should've been doing was calling Lionel, and telling him what she had just witnessed earlier in the day, her mom too, but this was more in her father's field of expertise, being a medical professional and all. Plus, he'd been the one who'd gotten this sickness to go away the first time.

But she just didn't have the energy to deal with how Lionel might lose it. He'd get to La Push from Seattle with guns blazing if Theresa had so much as hinted at these hallucinations coming back. And then afterwards, he'd probably throw her back into the nearest health center to get a mental evaluation.

When Natalie answered the phone, she was overshadowed by the sound of a girl's low laughter and husky whispers. She greeted Theresa. "What's up?"

Theresa rolled her eyes at this. "I just wanted to see if you had any time to hangout."

But Natalie wasn't listening. She'd turned away from the phone, and all Theresa could hear was muffled conversation. Figured. Whenever Natalie wasn't suffering from a case of raging senioritis, she was usually with her delinquent girlfriend who occasionally visited from the reservation over in Quinault, and judging by the sounds of the phone, Theresa knew she'd caught her friend at a bad time. She hung up on Natalie without further prompting.

She wished she could've took up Embry's offer, even if she did find Jake and his dopey friends troublesome half the time. Theresa had grown up with them, knew Embry and Quil were good peoples but still, she had her limits.

Theresa sighed in the salty air and peered out toward James Island, the ocean a dark shade of gray, its waves carelessly dribbling across the sand and pebbles. First Beach was usually predominantly empty at this time, which under normal circumstances, she might've preferred. She contemplated on whether or not she should just bite the bullet and join up with Jake, since the alternative was being alone with her thoughts and anxieties, wondering what sort of dreadful thing she'd see next.

It was only when the water started to lap over her sneakers, completely drenching her feet that she decided to just trudge home. How would she explain what was happening with her anyway? Hey, Jake, I know this is out of the blue and I'm not like, batshit crazy or anything but I'm actually schizophrenic and I've gotten better over the years but now I'm pretty sure I've relapsed and I'm seeing things that aren't there and feeling like I could implode at any given moment—but, hey, it's no biggie. Being alone is the last thing I need right now, so, wanna' kick it? If Jacob didn't try to have her committed right then and there, she'd do it herself out of the sheer mortification of it all.

Theresa paused her line of thinking, frowning at the biting sensation of the frigid water that was sloshing inside her converse, pervading the initial warmth between her toes. She'd been about twenty yards away from the ocean, how the hell was it even making contact with her? Only, when she took several steps back, the water followed, as if she were a magnet and the ocean were the precious metals pulling against her.

Fuck this. Theresa broke into a run, leaving the beach behind her. Right now, having no witnesses around to see how close she was to losing her shit was the practical choice.

All of the houses within the village were spread out from each other, with just enough space to breathe in but all still within walking distance from the community hall. But whenever she didn't want to be seen by an auntie or an idle classmate—which was almost always—she took a shortcut through the woods, since one of the trails led to her backyard. Theresa ignored the way the plants on the ground seemed to stretch toward her, ignored how the branches of the trees seemed to give her a wide berth and pretended not to hear how the wind blowing through the forest seemed to whisper unintelligible chants into her ears. Theresa saw nothing. She heard nothing. It was safer that way.

Jennifer Black and Theresa lived in a beige split-level house, near the Quillayute River and just off the main road. The house used to be owned by her grant aunt, Martha, who passed twenty years ago. Jennie took over the place and made it her own just when Theresa's sister, Irene, had been born. Really, Jennie couldn't ever fully leave La Push, a point that was reinforced when she'd gone off to college and immediately returned after just four years. Her roots had started here. Even when Lionel and Jennie had married and Lionel pressured her to move the family out to the city, Jennie persisted. This was where she'd been raised, where her foundations and loyalties truly lied. The bond Jennifer had with the reservation only held fast, thus leaving her family and friends within vicinity.

Theresa unlocked the back door, locking and latching it behind her when she climbed in. She checked the front door, and whipped her flip-phone out from her pocket, Lionel's speed-dial just within the reach of her thumb. Theresa grimaced at the thought of calling her father, dreading what concoction he might come up with once he heard about what had happened today. Lionel must've been running some rounds at his hospital, busy enough as it was. Theresa decided to make this her excuse instead of dealing with the problem at hand. She clambered up the stairs and climbed into her room, throwing her book bag onto her bed. Theresa thought about her stash of weed that was just underneath the floorboards, but miserably sighed and instead readily grabbed some sweats she usually lounged around the house in, heading into the bathroom while trying to shake her thoughts from her head.

As she was in the shower, she let the scalding water wash over her concerns. Maybe she'd fallen asleep in class and had been experiencing another weird dream?

That might've been it. She'd simply dozed off. Her medication prevented delusions. She hadn't had one in five years. Not a single episode. This made sense. After all, she hadn't experienced any hallucination symptoms up until today. And she was high, too. But weed had never, not once induced these sort of problems before. There was a first time for everything, right?

As she ran her hands through her hair, Theresa tried to make sense of her mind. Maybe she was crazy, but hadn't she always been? But not to the degree it had been when she was twelve. Maybe she could manage it—maybe it wasn't anything at all. Aside from what had happened at school, she had no other symptoms from today.

Theresa had just been overreacting. She was having migraines, and she didn't really sleep the night before—a side-effect from that, maybe. As she turned off the faucet and stepped out from the bathtub, she grabbed a towel, in much better spirits than before. Theresa found that she could smile a bit, since really, it wasn't anything to worry about. Logically, it made no sense! What would make today different from the others?

Wrapping a towel over her torso, and grabbing another one to dry her hair, she found that her mood had improved considerably. Being alone wasn't so bad. She was just being a baby. Theresa couldn't believe she was so desperate to even hang out with her annoying cousin an hour ago.

Her small smile widened and she snorted as she turned on the faucet to brush her teeth. Theresa lifted her eyes to look in the mirror, and her blood ran cold as she took in the unfamiliar writing, the letters written on the fogged up mirror…

MORS CERTA

HORA INCERTA