Chapter 2

Casey was hungry. She was hungry and angry at herself for having forgotten the lunch she had made. She hated the cafeteria. Not the food. The space itself. She hated the crowd. It was loud. It was difficult to move across the floor space without being inundated with distractions. She heard laughter. She heard bits of conversations. She saw people who were sad and happy and a range of emotions and where ever her eyes fell, she felt the emotions of those people. There were inexplicable times she didn’t feel anything at all, but most the times she felt everything and wished she could block better. Casey was not hated. She had no enemy. No one would throw food at her or make fun of her weight because she was just normal. No one would call her out on her skin tone, which tended to be a little darker at the beginning of school and a bit lighter by

January. She also didn’t have a group, or a go to friend, and so though she knew there was no enemy, she also suspected no friends.

She paid for a slice of cheese pizza and a banana, and headed out. Brenda came at her sideways, giving her a start.

“Can we talk?” Brenda asked.

“It’s difficult for me to hear in here,” Casey said, and headed outside.

Brenda followed. Casey stopped. “What?” “Have you opened your envelope?” Brenda asked.

“No,” Casey said.

Casey tried to walk away. Brenda kept with her. Casey dropped her bag, sat down in the grass, and put her tray down. Brenda sat across from her, opening her bag and pulling out an opened envelope. She extracted a folded paper, ‘Brenda’ written on it. She unfolded it to reveal a drawing of a common squirrel.

“Michael has a penguin. Irene a bear. Todd has a star,” Brenda said. “They all have their names written on them.”

“So?” Casey said.

“So. We weren’t told where to sit. We sat randomly. You sat where you sat by virtue of being the last one in the room,” Brenda said. “That’s weird.”

Casey opened her bag and retrieved the envelope. She opened it with a fingernail against the short side, flexed the paper to open it, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Casandra was written across it. She was baffled. She was so perplexed that she didn’t know how to respond.

“See?” Brenda said. “Twelve of us, randomly redirected to detention, sitting randomly, and we each get an envelope with our name written on the inside.”

“We all skip pep rallies,” Casey said, reaching.

“Okay, I will give you that… None of us like prep, but still,” Brenda said.

“It’s not what you think it is,” Casey said.

“What do you think I think it is?” Brenda asked.

“Magic?” Casey asked.

“Yes,” Brenda said.

“It’s a trick,” Casey said. “You were all in there. Are you all messing with me?”

“No!” Brenda said. “I thought they were messing with me. Everyone is thinking it’s about them, but what if this is what it seems?”

“That’s crazy,” Casey said, unfolding the paper.

Casey unfolded the paper. On the paper was drawn a triskele, a cetlitc design, three spirals influencing a greater spiral. She liked it and might have spent a great deal more time looking at it but Brenda was watching her. She flashed it to her, ‘it’s nothing,’ and re-folded it. She placed it back in the envelope, and put in her bag.

“You’re not creeped out in the least?” Brenda asked.

“Why should I be? There is a logical explanation for all of it,” Casey said. She heard her mom say, ‘you’re overly sensitive.’

“You don’t believe in magic?” Brenda asked.

“I am not spooked,” Casey said.

“She talked about Marry Poppins,” Brenda said.

“So?” Casey said.

“She looks like her,” Brenda said.

“Julie Andrews or Emily Blunt?” Casey asked. “I don’t see either.” “Seriously?! The cover is not the book song,” Emily said.

“She is not Mary Poppins!” Casey said. “That’s a popular hair style. If anything, she looks more like Phoebe Cates.”

“Who?” Brenda stood up. “Oh, never mind. Why did I even bother with you?” She started to walk away. She stopped. “Will you be there next time?” “I hate prep rallies,” Casey said.

“Well, we have that in common,” Brenda said and walked away.

Casey sat in the grass, her hunger pains having faded. She pulled out her journal and made another entry.

 

Mother was thirty minutes late, which was better than usual. Casey didn’t even notice her arrival until the horn sounded. She came out of her journal, gathered her things, and proceeded to the car. She got in back. As she buckled mom’s eyes met her, slight hint of a smile, as she continued her phone conversation. Medical stuff. They were almost home before the call ended.

      “You didn’t answer your phone,” mother said. “I tried to call you.”       “I was at school, mother. I turn the phone off,” Casey said.

      “Why did I even buy you a phone if you’re not going to use it?” mother asked.       “I use it,” Casey said. “At appropriate times, and turn it off to save the battery.”       “I’ll buy you a charger,” mother said.

      “I don’t need one,” Casey said.

      “I won’t your phone on so I can call and tell you I am running late,” mother said.

      “You’re always late,” Casey said.

“How was school?” mother asked, clearly changing the subject.

“Okay,” Casey said.

Mother took another phone call. They arrived home and she continued the conversation while Casey went inside. Father’s car was absent which meant he was absent. She didn’t know his schedule. She found her lunch on the table and grabbed it as she headed towards her room. She left the door ajar. A closed door frequently invited her mother to just walk in. Slightly opened, Casey was rarely bothered. She ate her lunch while completing homework. After, she opened her notebook to a first entry. ‘Lucid dreaming.’ She googled it. She found the concept of it interesting. She was so inspired by the concept, she thought she would give it a go.

Casey gathered her night clothes in the bathroom, wondered the house and found mom in her office slash library, still on the phone. She took a time out from the call to inform her father was delayed and would be in tomorrow and then went back to her call. Casey returned to the bathroom. She flossed, looking at herself and telling herself, ‘you are lucid.’ She finished flossing and stared longer at herself. She tried to smile. She tried to find something likeable about her face. She gave up and brushed. She then showered. She washed her hair with t-gel. It smelled horrible in application, but she liked the way her hair smelled when all was said and done. She dressed, dried her hair with a tussle of towel, and then returned to her room. She lay down, wondering what she might dream. She should have a goal. Nothing specific came to her.

She got up and browsed her books and movies on her own private book shelf, looking for inspiration. Princess Bride. Legend. Stardust. The Last Unicorn. The Never Ending Story. Mary and the Witch’s Flower. She pulled this out and wished it was so easy getting to college. She pushed it back. Her finger touched A Knight’s Tale. She went and googled the cast, clicked on

Heath, sending him to another tab. She studied Shannyn’s picture for a moment, thinking Loxy sort of resembled her, but it took too much effort to make Shannyn her and so returned her focus on Heath. She had no difficulty focusing on him. She scrolled through a series of Heath images, then printed her favorite pic of him. It was a casual pic. Not frowning, but not quite smiling. His hair fell lazily in just the right places, making his handsomeness look effortlessly. It was probably a photo shoot where he had had to remain still for hours while people teased his hair and fussed over him and finally after a thousand shots caught what everyone wanted. She preferred the one shot he’s always perfect version. That was the beauty of men, she thought. They didn’t have to work at it. They just were. Looking at the picture, she believed she saw things in him. Her mom would suggest she was projecting based on her larger knowledge base. It was always possible in hindsight to see things in people or pictures that weren’t ever there. She would have been five when he completed suicide. She remembered her mother and father discussing it at the table. She had known who it was because a Knight’s Tale was one of her go to movies. She remembered being sad.

“Well, that’s stupid. The guy had everything…” father had said.

“I find your comment stupid. Are you so insensitive and unimaginative that you can’t empathize with someone feeling trapped? You can’t phantom one demon that might push someone to such an extreme?” his mother had argued.

Casey could recall the conversation verbatim. She could relive the moment. She remembered wanting it to have been a murder that was made to look like a suicide, as if that were somehow better. Dead was dead. “Why are you defending him?” “I am not defending him.

I am just saying…” “And I am just saying, that’s stupid.” “Mental health isn’t stupid, it’s just mental health.” “Yeah, well, I am sure hell is a much better place.” “He didn’t go to hell.” “You’re the Catholic. Isn’t that where you send those kinds of people?” “Those kinds of people?” “Yes, those kinds of people. Being mentally ill isn’t a free get out of jail card; if you commit a murder you still go to jail, so why would you be exempt from eternal consequences for a suicide.” “Why would you imagine murderers go to heaven, but people who suicide can’t? You don’t go to hell if you break your leg, why would you go to hell if your brain is malfunctioning?” “His brain wasn’t malfunctioning. He was being selfish…”

“Oh, Heath. Out of all the people in the world you had access to, wasn’t there anyone you might have reached out to?” Casey asked.

She took the printed the picture to bed. It wasn’t glossy, but it was good enough for her purposes. She put the picture under her pillow. She heard the paper crinkle as she adjusted herself. She told herself, if she heard it crinkle at night, she would remember her intent. She began a mantra, “I will dream of Heath. I will connect with Heath.” She fell asleep with this in her mind.

She woke the next morning, before the alarm. She did not remember any dreams. In fact, it felt as if she had just closed her eyes and woke up, only the clock had jumped forwards. She was disappointed. She got up, turned on the light, and when she turned back she saw a man lying in her bed. He was barefoot, wearing cream colored Kakis and a loose buttoned, flannel shirt. She screamed. The man woke with a start and screamed back, hopping out of bed and retreating away from the screaming girl.

Mother was suddenly in her room.

“What the hell?!” mother said. “You scared me.” Casey looked to her mom. Her eyes wide.

“What?!” her mom yelled. Casey looked at Heath.

“Don’t look at me! I didn’t do anything,” Heath said.

“What? A roach? OMG, if you’re screaming like that because of a spider or a roach, I am going beat your ass,” mother said.

Casey gave mom a look of disbelief.

“Don’t think you’re too old for a spanking,” mother said, and turned and left the room.

Heath sighed. “OMG, she’s right. You gave me such a fright.” He sat down on the bed.

“Am I dreaming?” Casey asked. The alarm began to ring.

“What a bizarre question,” Heath said. “How did I get here?”

Mother returned. She had coffee. She went and turned off the alarm. “Seriously? Are you still looking for a bug? Get dressed.”

Mother departed the room again.

“Where are my shoes?” Heath said.

“Could you leave my room please?” Casey asked.

“Are you hiding my shoes?” Heath asked.

“Out!” Casey said.

Heath got up and headed for the door. He hit an invisible barrier. He said ouch and touched his nose and then felt the barrier. “What the heck is this?”

“If you’re not dressed and out here for breakfast before I finished my coffee, I am so going to administer consequences,” mother’s voice trailed.

“She sounds angry,” Heath said.

“Please, turn around,” Casey said.

He nodded, politely, and turned around. She spied his eyes in her full length mirror attached to the closet door, went and opened the door so there was no visible access to the mirror and then went back to her dresser. Casey quickly got dressed in a manner someone might had they someone in their room that wasn’t supposed to be there. Jeans first, the night shirt off fast and into a sweater without bothering with a bra. She sat on the bed and put on her socks and shoes. She had to go past Heath to get her book bag. He backed away from her, giving her space. She left the room. Heath was stuck, unable to pass through an invisible barrier. He yelled at her from the door way.

“What? You’re going to leave me trapped in here all day?”

Casey arrived at the breakfast nook. Morning light was streaming in the window. Mom placed breakfast on the table. It was toast, with a hole cut out, where the egg was poached simultaneously with the making of toast. The circle part that had been cut out was available for yoke dipping. Casey sat down, distracted by the thought of Heath in his room.

“I am sorry I yelled. I will call the bug guy out again,” her mother said, “Damn, you gave me such a scare.”

Heath arrived in the kitchen.

“Oh!” he said. He was scrambling to stay on his feet as if he had been pushing against a barrier that suddenly caved. He grabbed the table dramatically. She almost imagined everything on the table was shaking from the impact.

Casey managed to stifle her start, but it was clear to her mother something had startled her in the kitchen. Mother looked in the kitchen, saw nothing, and turned back to her.

“Are you on drugs?!” mother asked.

“No!” Casey snapped. “I would never…”

“You really need to get over your bug thing,” mother said.

“Yeah, like telling people to get over phobias just makes them better. You’d be out of business,” Casey said.

Mother chuckled. “Touché,” mother said. “Give me a moment to get dressed and brush my teeth.”

As she left, Heath sat down. “That smells awesome.”

Casey nearly asked if he could really smell, then decided not to talk to him. She ate her breakfast.

“OMG, that tastes awesome,” Heath said. “How can I taste what you taste?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. She got to a place where if she bit the yoke it will spill out. Not wanting to deal with the spilt yoke, she bit deep and wide and captured it all in her mouth, no mess to the plate.

“That is so good,” Heath said.

She finished the rest of it quickly, tossed down her juice, and then ran to the bathroom to brush her teeth. A moment later, he arrived in the bathroom. She could see him in the mirror and in person.

“Stop following me!” Casey mumbled under her breath.

“I don’t know how. I don’t know how I am doing it,” Heath said.

Casey opened the door and told him to get out. He found he couldn’t leave. There was a barrier there. She closed the door and brushed her teeth. She tried watching herself brush, but kept finding her eyes going to Heath. He smiled at her. She brushed harder and faster.

“You shouldn’t brush so hard,” Heath said. “Up and down, not left and right.” Casey stopped brushing. She glared at him.

“What?” Heath asked.

She rinsed her mouth and cleaned her brush. Then realized she had a dilemma. “I need you out.”

“I would like to get out,” Heath said.

“Seriously. Stop messing around,” Casey said. “I need to pee.”

“I am not messing around,” Heath said.

The urgency to go made her find a solution. She pulled the shower curtain back.

“Stand in the shower face the wall,” Casey said.

Heath got in the tub and faced the wall. She pulled the curtain to.

“Why do you need to shut the curtain if I am facing the wall?” Heath asked.

“Quiet,” Casey said, doing her thing.

“Why do I need to be quiet?” Heath asked. He listened to the sound of water meeting water. “That’s much louder than I expected.” Casey stopped peeing.

“Are you finished?” Heath asked.

“No!” Casey said.

“Why did you quit?” Heath asked.

“Less commentary, please,” Casey asked. “Try singing.”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

“Stop singing!” Casey said. “Damn it!” She stood and pulled up her pants.

She gave up, flushed what she gave, and departed the bathroom. She arrived in the living room, her mom on the phone, keys in her other hand. “Push two ML of Ativan. I’ll be in about an hour.”

Heath arrived in the living room. “Why didn’t you tell me you left?”

Mother hung up the phone. “Ready?” “Yeah,” Casey said.

“Your bag?”

“Uh?” Casey asked. “Oh. Yeah.”

“Don’t forget your lunch,” mother said.

Casey grabbed her lunch and she was in the car and buckled before her mother even finished locking the door. Heath was suddenly in the seat next to her. He crashed into the front seat and her mother didn’t he even flinch.

“Oh!” Casey said.

“Did you say something, dear?” mother asked, climbing in the car.

“Uh? Oh, no,” Casey said.

“Are you okay?” mother asked.

“Yeah,” Casey said. “You know me. Overly sensitive. Easily spooked. I am sorry.”

Mother stared long and hard at the mirror. “No,” mother corrected. “I am sorry. It’s not wrong to be empathic. It can be draining and, well, the onus is on me for being more patient. I absolutely admire your ability to tune into people. Don’t ever loose that.”

“I think I am going to cry,” Heath said.

Casey nearly looked at Heath. Mother never spoke so nicely to her before. “Are you okay, mom?” Casey asked.

“I am not in crisis,” mother said.

“That doesn’t translate into being okay,” Casey said.

“Wow, aren’t you on point today,” mother said, starting the car. “The boys better watch out.”

“Mom!” Casey said.

“What? We can’t talk about boys?” mother asked.

“Not today,” Casey said.

“Why not?” Heath asked. “Just pretend I am not here.” Casey looked out the window.

“That’s pretty good.”

Heath was a regular chatty Kathy all the way to school, asking all sorts of questions that Casey had no answers to, even if she was inclined to answer. “How can I see out my window when you’re looking out yours?” “Ouch! Would you stop pinching yourself?” “If I am a ghost, what keeps me from falling out of the car?”

“Bye,” Casey said to mom, hopping out of the car.

Casey closed the door on Heath. He frowned at her. The car pulled away. Then suddenly, he was standing behind her. She turned to go to class and saw him and gave a start. He screamed to and they both said, “Stop doing that!” at the same time.

“Alight, we have to figure this out,” Heath said.

“No, we don’t,” Casey said. “You’re not here. You’re a hallucination.”

“If I am not here, how am I responding to you?” Heath asked.

Casey walked away. He caught up and kept up. She went into the girls bathroom and he followed but hit a barrier that kept him from entering. She smiled at him as the door closed.

When she turned around he was there, looking at her apologetically.

“Stop following me?!” Casey said.

The girls at the mirror looked at her. Casey ignored them and went right to a stall and closed the door. She saw his feet on the outside of the stall. He was still barefoot. She turned around to check the cleanness of the seat. She turned back only to find him suddenly in the stall with her. She began to cry.

“I really need to pee,” Casey said.

“I am sorry,” Heath said. He could not push out the door, or even go under the door. He put his head in the corner and promised not to look. “It’s okay, Casey. Everyone pees. I used to pee. I wonder if I can still pee…”

Heath heard music. He peeked back and saw she was wearing headsets listening to music from her cellphone. She pointed at him. He quickly turned back to the corner. When she finished, she took the headsets off and put them and her phone back in her bag. She went to the sink.

Heath appeared beside her.

“I think I understand,” Heath said. “I can’t cross thresholds, but I follow you from room to room. It feels like there is a barrier in your mind. Oh! You don’t see it. Everything is a room in your head. You don’t see it as one big room with compartments; everything is a self contained room. Outside is a room. Inside is a room. There are rooms within rooms. Wow! This is cool.

Now, how did I get in here?”

Casey was following his rambling and actually making sense of what he was saying. She was looking at him from the mirror. A girl to her left was studying her gaze.

“You okay?” the girl asked.

“Uh? Oh, yeah. Yeah, thank you! I appreciate you asking,” Casey said.

“Sure, Casey,” the girl said. “Just let me know if you ever want to talk.” “You know my name,” Casey said.

“Well, yeah,” she said. “We’re in algebra together.” Casey started crying.

“What did she say?” Heath asked.

The girl hugged her. “Oh, it’s okay,” she said. “Shh, it’s okay.”

Another girl came out of the stall. She went and retrieved tissues from her backpack and brought them over, offering to help. Casey accepted tissues and wiped her face.

“I don’t know why I am so emotional today,” Casey said apologetically? “Are you pregnant?” the girl that brought the tissues asked.

“No!” Casey said.

“Oh, okay,” the girl said. “Just curious. My sister was really emotional when she got pregnant.”

“I am not pregnant,” Casey insisted.

“Well, you never know,” the girl said.

“Yes, you do,” Casey said. “I am not active.”

“Oh, well, yeah, then probably not,” the girl agreed.

“Probably?” Casey and the first girl asked simultaneously.

“I read where female sharks can give birth to babies without a father,” she was saying.

“That’s really cool,” Heath said.

“No way,” the other girl said.

“It’s called parthenogenesis," the girl explained. “A real medical term for real virgin births.”

“Do you really think your mother is going to believe that?” Casey asked.

The girl began to cry. “Noooo!”

Casey and the other girl were now comforting the Kleenex girl. It was hard to follow what she was saying.

“OMG,” Heath said. “Is that all you girls do is cry in the bathroom?” Casey shot him a warning glare.

“And I have to pee all the time now,” she was saying.

“That sucks,” Casey was saying. She gave Heath a cross look.

“What?” Heath asked. “This is really uncomfortable. I really wish I could wait outside.” “Have you spoken to anyone??