CHAPTER NINE
On Monday, Mark yawned through a series of long lectures during school. He was not prepared for his classes; during third period he was singled out for not doing his homework and was asked to stay after class for a stern word from the teacher. "You'll never get far in life if you don't learn a little discipline one of these days," he was told. He made a silent promise to himself that he was going to try to do a better job in the future.
At lunch, Mark spotted Meg chatting away with her new friends at a round table, and that made him happy. The sight of her made his heart soar with a warm, fast beat that made his cheeks flush. He decided not to approach her, but instead to just watch her from the opposite end of the cafeteria, sitting at a booth with Dan, Drew and Joey. They were talking about sports, but Mark hardly heard a word of it. He was deeply absorbed in watching Meg smile in her shy way and flick her thick, dark hair behind her shoulders and laugh.
After the long school day was over, Beth approached him at his locker. "Thought I'd find you here," she said, giving him a once-over. Her bookbag was slung over both shoulders; she was carrying a pile of books in her arms.
"Hey, Beth," he said, slamming the metal door shut. "What's up?"
"Oh, just passing by. On my way to practice, in case you'd like to know. There's a big game coming up, and all of us girls need to polish our steps."
"Anything you wanted?"
She shook her head. "Nothing in particular," she said. "But since you asked..." she bit the end of her pinky. "...I was wondering. You still want to be friends with me, right?"
"Of course, Beth. We can still be friends."
"Well, in my experience," she said, "friends are frank with each other. Can I be frank?"
"Sure."
"I know who it is you've had your eye on. It's that cheerleader girl, the one you took home because her date ditched her, isn't it?"
Mark was silent. He nodded his head, slowly. "Yeah. What about it?" he asked.
"Well," she said, "and I'm being frank here, but I'd advise you to be careful with that girl," she said. "She's quite the innocent, you know. And fragility breeds jealous parents. That's one of mine, you know."
"So what are you getting at?" he asked.
She laughed. "Oh, just that I know you, Mark, and you're almost exactly the opposite. Wouldn't want a nice girl like that crushing under the pressure to keep up with you, would we?" Beth gave him a warning look, held his gaze for a few moments, and then turned to leave. "Oh, and one more thing," she said. "Just remember that news travels fast. One minute you're a promising new student, the next you're the victim of a malicious circle of rumors."
"Are you making a threat?"
"Not at all," she said. "Just saying it like I see it, that's all." Then she added, "Just being a friend."
He spent some time downtown with the guys, sitting around talking and smoking cigarettes, then when he was pulling his car into his driveway, he noticed a big blob on his front porch. Narrowing his eyes, he realized what it was. He quickly put the parking brake on, unbuckled himself and rushed out of the car. Meg was hunched over, lying on the stoop.
"Meg, what's happened?" he demanded.
"Wha--?" she blurted, and her speech was slurred. Her breath smelled strongly of alcohol, and her eyes were red and puffy.
"What's happened to you?" he demanded again, holding her in his arms.
She coughed, and weakly held onto him. "It was Beth..." she slurred. "After practice... we hung out... I'm so dizzy..."
"Come inside," he said, and guided her up and through the front door.
Once inside his room, she slumped down into his bed. "I'm sorry, Mark," she said, with eyes closed and arms waving slowly through the air, "I just wanted to have some fun, like you do..."
Mark felt hot anger rising into his face. He shot downstairs and quickly picked up the phone. "Beth, what were you thinking?" he yelled.
Beth's laughing voice sounded jovial, and overly relaxed. "As I told you, Mark, she's running to catch up with you. Seriously, Mark? I think she was trying to impress you."
"What did you give her?" he pressed. She was carrying on a background conversation while on the phone with Mark, and he heard several other voices chattering and laughing through the receiver. "Dammit, Beth, talk to me!"
She was less than impressed with his urgent tone. "Oh, just a few Valiums, a couple drinks and some smoke, that's all."
He was angered by her nonchalance. "Don't you realize that she'd never done this stuff before?" he pressed.
She hushed a couple of the background voices. "Well, it's not like I didn't warn you..." Mark slammed down the phone, having had enough of Beth, and ran back up immediately to Meg.
"Meg, are you okay? Do you need me to bring you anything?" he asked, stroking her cheek.
She sighed and groaned and then said, "My mom is going to kill me... I need to get home."
Mark bit his lip, suddenly realizing the mess they were in. "Ok, don't worry Meg. I'll take you home. I just want to make sure you'll be alright in the car, that's all." He looked into her red, droopy eyes and knew then, for certain, that he alone was to blame for this.
His heart heavy, he picked her up and helped her into his car. He knew that when her parents saw her, they would immediately smell the odor of alcohol on her breath and body, but he didn't care. He wanted her to be safely back at home, and in one piece, at least.
The drive to her house was silent. He looked over at her a few times, and she was sleeping in her seatbelt. When they arrived, she was still sleeping, and he had to gently nudge her to bring her back to awareness. "Come on, Meg. Let's get you inside," he said, and unbuckled her seatbelt.
She opened her eyes slowly. "Still dizzy," she said weakly. "Don't know if I can walk."
"I'll carry you then," he said, and walked around to the other side of the car and pulled her out. She was surprisingly lightweight.
As they approached the front stoop, the door swung open. The first thing Mark saw was a pair of cream Italian leather pumps, attached to legs clad with translucent cream stockings. Then it was the scent that attracted his attention; a faintly Oriental perfume wafted towards his nose, and it was a rich, luxurious scent. Mark set Meg down, light as she was, on the stone entrance, and looked up to the woman who was standing in the doorway.
"Hello, Mark," she said, in a rich, deep, feminine voice. He was struck dumb for several seconds.
There she was. Her short hair was neatly styled; it was curled under at the ends, and seemed to catch a spectrum of highlights in the light of the day. She was taller than Meg, and trim, wearing a silk suit and blouse.
Mark had not seen her since he was little. "You can let her go right here," she said. "Meg, go straight up to your room. I'll deal with you later." Meg scampered inside, wobbling a little bit on her way up to her room. Mrs. Mitchell turned to Mark with slight curls on either side of her mouth. "I would ask to what do I owe this pleasure, but I see my question has already been answered," she said, as he straightened up.
"Mrs. Mitchell, it's nice to see you again," Mark said formally, even though he knew his formality would get him nowhere.
She tapped a pen onto the heel of her palm. There was a thick silence between the two of them, as she glared icily back at him.
"Just cut to the chase, Mark," she said, still glaring, still speaking coolly, "I suppose you know how my daughter got into the condition that she is in?"
He nodded. "She was drinking with a friend of ours. She had a few pills and some drugs. The combination wiped her out."
She pursed her lips and studied him. The uncomfortableness between them was almost unbearable. "And this isn't the first time you've seen my daughter, is it?"
He did not deny it. "No, ma'am."
"Well," she said, smoothing out her hair, "I see you've managed to destroy both my son and my daughter now. Good day, Mark. Please, don't ever come around again, or I'll be likely to call the police to remove you." With that, the door was swung closed.
"I wasn't the one who..." he started to say, but the door was already closed.
He turned, and went slowly back to his car. He didn't know where he was going. He didn't know what he was going to do. But he knew that there was only one way to stop the viscious cycle of destruction that had been started so long ago.
Trees. Everywhere, trees, and overgrown weeds. They were so tall that only a small portion of the sky was visible overhead, and what little he did see was patched with starch-white clouds. He was sobbing heavily by now. Thankfully, no one had seen him drive up to Raven's Point, park his car and then disappear into the woods. He wanted it that way. He wanted to be completely alone.
He had walked about a half mile into the wilderness, and now he was doubled over, crying and sobbing, soaking his t-shirt but he didn't care. The gun was stowed carefully in his right pocket. He'd made sure to buy the same kind that had been used on his best friend in the world, Cory Mitchell.
He never told anyone that he was suicidal because no one cared to listen. Meg might have listened, but she was taken away from him.
He cocked the gun, and then fired.