chapter 20
My fever dropped a little overnight, but it was still holding steady over 101. I felt very warm, instead of the chill a fever often brings, and alternated throwing the covers off and yanking them back on me. I hated being cold when I had the flu; it made my skin prickle.
In the morning, I stayed parked on the couch. My head was so stuffy I felt like I was in another world, and my skin burned all over. I couldn't stop sneezing and my throat hurt like crazy. I watched morning cartoons and then an onslaught of infomercials. I never realized just how many gadgets were created for the sole purpose of cutting up vegetables. Chopping carrots didn't seem that hard.
Claire came in every once in a while to monitor my fever. Between this and my nose, I had given them too much to worry about lately.
"Am I dead yet?" I asked, coughing. My lungs felt as though they were full of nettles.
"Don't say that," she said sternly.
"What's wrong? At least no one tried to take off any of my body parts this time." I made hacking motions with the side of my hand. I had a tendency to get juvenile when I was sick.
Claire rolled her eyes, dropping emerald green flu pills into my palm and closing my fingers around them. Then she whisked used tissues off of the table and the ones that had overflowed the grocery sack propped up on the floor.
I took the pills with a swing of ginger ale. I couldn't focus, feeling the drowsy effect taking over, and closed my heavy eyelids.
I noticed the tick-tocking of the grandfather clock in the dining room. Slight at first, so I barely noticed a difference, then louder still. The sound warped, and distorted, into the sound of thumping on the wall behind me.
I was in a white corridor of doors. It was pristine, like something in a fancy hotel. For a moment, it flashed to a dank replica, with detritus and old leaves on the broken wood floor. But only for a moment. Then the elegant hallway was back. This time it stayed in place.
As I walked past each door, it disappeared into the wall. I ran my hands along either side, and felt nothing but smoothness beneath my fingertips. It was a sort of numb, detached sensation, like I was just borrowing the body I was in.
Where the corridor ended was a black door. A strange, coppery metal symbol sat in the center. It looked so familiar, but at the moment I couldn't place it. It looked like a bunch of sticks.
I opened the door, and the world shifted so that I lost my balance. I fell on the ground, with the door above me. I stepped up and through the door, and found myself in the caretaker's shed by the Dexter Orphanage. I walked out of the shed and across the sprawling lawn, crossing to the gate without looking behind me.
The thick air was hot. I walked through town, but I didn't recognize where I was. Everything seemed just a little off from what I knew. The world was wrong, angles tilting precipitously, the street was black and undulating like snakeskin. The swirling sky was violet, full of angry clouds. I heard girls screaming, not one, but many frightened, hopeless voices. Then the street burst into flames around me and I was sucked back into my body.
I woke up on the couch, sucking in my breath, sitting up. I was drenched in cold sweat, my shirt sticking to my chest and back. But I felt like my fever had broken. I put my hand to my forehead and my skin was clammy.
"What the hell is this, the haunted couch?" I mumbled to myself.
I was miraculously better in time for school, due to my religious use of flu medicine. The sides of my abused nostrils were red from tissues.
Being sick, I had all but forgotten about the fire incident on Friday. But everyone in the commons was talking about it when I walked in on Monday. Basement Access was no longer locked, but was symbolically blocked off by traffic cones. I wondered if that would actually keep people away. There were scorch marks under the door, as if something had been trying to reach out.
The most prevalent theory surrounded an antisocial group at school that always wore black and pretended to be anarchists. That it was some kind of political statement against forced education. There were lots of whispers involving my and Henry's name.
When I arrived in the locker room, Theo was waiting expectantly for me.
"Seems like I chose the wrong day to get sick," she said, fiddling with her combination lock. "What happened while I was gone? I keep hearing people talk about a fire."
Before I could open my mouth, Coach Fletcher walked in. "Don't bother changing," she said. "There's going to be an assembly concerning the fire. Leave your stuff here and let's go."
"Do we have to?" groaned Madison, who had already donned her gym shorts.
"Yes." Coach marched back out.
Theo and I were still wearing our street clothes, so we walked straight into the hall. I filled her in on what happened during the short walk to the auditorium. She agreed that Henry sounded suspicious.
"But don't write him off, yet," she said. "He obviously cares about you. You should have seen the look on his face when you...passed out at the orphanage. You might as well have been his wife or something. Maybe he just got scared, or worried he would get in trouble. You know how guys are; they can't talk about that stuff."
Lainey and Madison passed by us then, as always wanting to be at the head of the crowd. I waited until they were out of earshot before I spoke again.
"His wife?" I asked.
"You know what I mean," Theo said.
"He does seem kind of romantic. Sometimes he's all I think about." I'd never admitted it out loud before, but I knew Theo would understand.
"Well, yeah, if I had a sickly hot guy falling all over himself for me, it would be a huge deal," she agreed.
"What about Alex?" I teased. "He's not bad looking for a meathead."
"Meh," she said, shrugging. She rubbed glitter out of the corner of her eye. "I still have to think about that. He did send me a get-well email. There were kittens. That has to count for something."
The auditorium was packed nearly to capacity when we arrived. It looked like every freshman and sophomore sat there. I had no idea what to expect. Public execution wasn't out of the question. The faculty members stood along the walls, talking to each other.
McPherson appeared onstage, lit like a ghoul in the stage lights.
"Quiet down now," he said without pleasantries, waiting until everyone was silent. "Although most of you were here last Friday, let me give you a reminder. We had a serious incident. Several fires were set on school properties, causing minor damage. The staff and I have discussed this matter. We will not rest until whoever responsible is punished."
"Some of you may be wondering who among you is to blame. We know of several people of interest that I will be interviewing."
"Do you think he's talking about you and Henry?" Theo whispered.
"Of course he is." Although it was impossible, I felt like McPherson was looking directly at me.
The assembly lasted for fifteen minutes, the whole time McPherson going on and on about personal responsibility and the limits of freedom in the school being in our best interests. Sure, I thought.
When we were finally dismissed, our class filed back out into the hall with everyone else. I started to follow the herd back towards the gymnasium. But Coach Fletcher stood in front of me, stopping me from going further.
"Donovan, you need to go to the office," she said. She had gone back to treating me like any other kid, broken nose all but forgotten.
I sighed. Theo smiled sympathetically as me, raising her crossed fingers for emphasis.
Nerves took me over. I had never really been in much trouble before, save for the time I drew with crayons instead of chalk on the sidewalk in elementary school and had to wash it off for an hour with a garden hose.
I headed to the front offices and walked into the inner sanctum. Carnation bouquets were wilting on the counter, the school colors they'd been dyed with fading. I had been here too often lately.
"I was told to come to the office. My name is Ariel Donovan," I told the secretary. I couldn't tell if she recognized me when I wasn't bathed in my own blood. She pointed with her pen back to McPherson's office. I shuffled across the brown carpet and to my doom.
I knocked on the door, but no one answered. When I opened it, Henry was already sitting, rather casually, in one of the chairs in front of McPherson's tidy desk. His office was just as organized and sparse as his house had looked.
"Hi," I said meekly to Henry.
"We meet again," he replied, brushing dirt off of his shoe onto the floor.
"What's going on?" I asked him, sitting in the chair next to him. He was as aloof as he had been last week. He simply shrugged.
I wanted desperately to ask him why he was being so evasive. Had I done something to stop him from liking me? After how close it had seemed we had gotten...and the kiss at the dance...
"I just want to get this over with," he said. "I have things to do." Fire burned behind his usual energy. He seemed far more pissed off than anxious or worried. He kept shifting in his seat, and his eyes were lit with some unspoken passion.
"This is serious, at least to me," I whispered harshly. "I don't have lawyers for parents." I couldn't understand what had happened to my Henry, the one who was always kind and had a joke for every occasion. The one with the amazingly clever, fast-paced brain that kept me on my toes. The one that I loved, I realized at the worst moment.
The office door opened, and we both turned. McPherson entered with a stack of papers and walked to his desk, setting down the bundle.
He sat down in the wingback chair, resting his elbows on the desktop. Tenting his fingers, he looked down his nose at us. Henry snorted with derisive laughter, making it known that he thought McPherson was a joke. I looked at him like he was crazy. I had no pressing interest in getting in trouble.
Then all the humor washed out of Henry's face. "Is all this really necessary?" he spat.
"I assure you it is, son," McPherson said calmly. Then his head snapped to me.
I was scared, not only because I knew I was not McPherson's favorite, but also because of how he demonstrated it when Lainey hurt my nose. Not to mention what I knew about his weird living quarters.
"Why were you still inside the school after the alarm went off?" McPherson interrogated me. "Why didn't you go out one of the fire exits?"
I paused, mouth open, unsure of what to say. Honesty seemed like the best defense. But at the same time, I would embarrass myself to Henry.
"I need an answer," McPherson snapped.
"I went to find Henry," I admitted, hoping I wasn't getting him in more trouble than he was getting in himself. "He left during class and he didn't come back, so I wanted to make sure that he got out safely." I didn't look at Henry, too humiliated by my revelation.
"Basically, her behavior was stupid, but well-intentioned," Henry said coldly.
Anger filled me.
"No more stupid than whatever you were involved with," I countered.
"You have no idea what I was doing. Stop pretending like you do," he said, glaring at me and sitting up in his seat.
"What I do know is that I did nothing to you to make you act this way towards me. So why the change?" I said, matching his posture.
"Enough bickering," McPherson said, interrupting us. For a moment, McPherson and Henry just looked at each other. I wondered what I was missing.
"I believe you've already spoken with my father," Henry said. "He'll give you any answers that you need."
McPherson sat still, debating what to do with us.
He scribbled two hall passes. "Go back to class for now. But this isn't over." He leaned back in his chair, looking smug. "Don't get too comfortable."
After we left McPherson's office, I walked out of central office, with Henry trailing behind me.
"What is it?" I asked again, when we were alone. Henry wouldn't even look at me, finding everywhere else to train his eyes. He made me furious, treating me like an idiot in McPherson's office. After all the time we had spent together, I deserved better.
"I don't always have to explain everything to you," he said.
The familiar sensation of having someone I cared about turn on me was too much to handle. Maybe there was something wrong with me that caused it to happen. "What would you suggest I do? I can't get in trouble."
"You're not going to get in trouble," he snapped, glowering at me. He leaned in close and said, "You will be fine."
"How can you possibly know that?" I asked, looking into his eyes. He stood for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek.
"Just leave me alone from now on," he said, starting to walk away. "You'll stay out of danger that way."
For once I was happy as hell that I was immune from crying as I watched him go.