The Resurrection of Aubrey Miller Page 3

  Just as I extend my arm to attach the poster, Quinn calls, “Raven! You have to meet my Boarding Buddy!”

  Great.

  Boarding Buddy.

  The whole reason I skipped Freshman Orientation. Who needs to be paired up with some random person just to find your way around campus?

  I can do that shit alone, as I intend to.

  I abort my mission of avoidance, casually turning my head just barely over my shoulder, but as soon as I see the person to whom she’s referring, I lose the hold on my poster. The scraping sound it makes as it swings back and forth along the wall hardly registers due to my dumbfounded state of shock. Without pause, the blood drains from my face and my legs feel as though they’ve been carted through a tub of cement before being reattached to my body.

  I pray that these reactions comprise the typical response for when you see the one person in your life that you never, ever expected to see again. Because if that’s not the case, I’m pretty sure I’m having a heart attack and will be struck dead where I stand within approximately 2.5 seconds.

  But with one more look into those familiar hazel-brown eyes, with a tinge of green so undeniably familiar, my possibly failing heart is suddenly revitalized as it spurs a jarring shock throughout my entire body, immediately transporting me to my past.

  You see, when I was a little girl I spent a lot of time alone—Linda worked nights as a nurse, so I became a victim of a lot of television, and most of it wasn’t child friendly. One night, I was fully immersed in a crime show marathon where they were explaining how some trauma victims store their memories by way of compartmentalization. It was then I created and defined my compartments, sealing away certain memories where no one, not even me, could access some of them. It’s a very intricate system. For example:

  Level 1 memory bin: Very easily accessible. Like an open door, memories flow in and out, allowing my day to day function. Items that would fall into this category would be things such as exam schedules, dental appointments, and the name of my new roommate Quinn.

  Level 2 memory bin: A little more difficult to gain entry than Level 1. More like a closed door, where it takes some actual effort to recall these memories. Examples include the time Linda fell down the stairs and broke her collarbone, when I accidentally washed her favorite cashmere sweater in hot water and dried it on high heat, the unfortunate occasion when she attempted to make chicken pot pie, and the death of all the animals Linda brought home. Not necessarily the most terrifying of my memories, but definitely not the best.

  Level 3 memory bin: These remain safely behind a locked door, for which only I have the key, and are mostly a lump sum of some pretty painful memories from my past. Some happy, some sad, but all memories that are guaranteed to bring heartbreak over and over again. So, they remain locked safely in Level 3.

  Level 4 memory bin: Steel door, passcode, and retinal scan required for entry. Some of the most painful of my recollections. The death of my mother, the death of my sister, and the pain associated with both will forever stay hidden in this place.

  Level 5 memory bin: Top Secret military clearance required. Titanium encases a steel vault buried approximately thirty feet underground. It’s booby-trapped with C4 and other deadly explosives which will be detonated if anyone comes within ten feet. Only one memory resides here, never to be freed again.

  Like I said, I had a lot of time on my hands.

  But now, as I eye the person in front of me cautiously, it becomes painfully obvious that my Level 3 memory bin has been compromised.

  Either that or somehow I unknowing relinquished a key to the one and only…

  Kaeleb Kristopher McMadden.

  The memory escapes slowly from its confinement, almost cautiously, before finally freeing itself, rushing my mind so quickly I physically wince in response. The pain it will yield is inevitable and I’m defenseless against it as it begins to replay in my mind:

  “I don’t want to go, Kaeleb. I’m scared.” I wipe the tears from my cheeks as I search desperately for some sort of comfort from his shining eyes. But there’s nothing that can help me now. Cold darkness threatens to suffocate me as I’m pulled under and barely breathing. I’m dying. Just like my family.

  “Bree,” he responds, quickly removing the moisture from his own face. “You have to go. You—”

  “I know. I have no one here.” I sigh. “They’re all…gone.”

  Kaeleb nods slightly before pulling me into his arms. Only eight years old, same age as me, yet his hold feels so strong, so secure. I know he doesn’t want to let me go, and as the pretty lady with the rose perfume comes to break us apart, the need for us to grasp onto each other becomes more desperate. She calls for help, and as they try to tear us apart, tears continue to roll down our cheeks with the knowledge that this will be our last moment together. We hold on to each other as tightly as we can, but are eventually broken apart, our fingers the last to let go as we reach for each other.

  “I love you, Kaeleb,” I whisper to myself as they gently guide me into the back seat of an unknown car. Before they close me in, I scream as loudly as I can, “You’re my best friend!”

  His eyes meet mine as they shut the door between us. Determination fills his eyes as he walks to the car and just when they start the engine, he places his palm flat on the window with his fingers spread as far as they will go. Slamming my hand against the cool glass, I do the same, knowing this will be the last time I will ever be in the presence of my friend. My best friend.

  As we drive away, I watch out the back window as he runs down the street as long as his legs can carry him. They eventually lock underneath him and his knees hit the ground, unable to keep up any longer.

  I throw my hand against the back window as the car turns the corner and continue to watch until I lose sight of him. Not until he’s gone do I allow myself to fall into the darkness. I no longer fight for the need to breathe as I let go. I just step out of myself and watch the pretty, blonde-haired, blue-eyed little girl slowly dying as she sinks, spiraling lower and lower until finally disappearing into the bottomless pit that swallows her.

  “Raven? Hell-ooooo!” Quinn’s voice filters slowly through the searing pain of my memory, bringing me back into the present where I’m still standing on my bed and the damn poster is still swinging from side-to-side behind me. But now, instead of the sound barely registering, it’s grating against my eardrums like nails on a chalkboard.

  Quinn and Kaeleb have made their way to the corner of my bed during my brief mental vacation and now they’re so close, I fight the urge to step back in order to put some distance between us. The corners of Kaeleb’s mouth twitch slightly when my hand finally slams against the poster.

  I can’t take it anymore.

  His eyes break away from my stunned gaze to address Quinn. “So, this is your roommate? Raven?” he asks, before once again turning his attention back to me.

  My eyes wander all over his face, the little boy I once knew no longer present in his features. His youthful, rounded face has molded itself into high-cheekbones that highlight a strong, well-defined jaw lined with a day’s worth of stubble. The same hazel, greenish-brown eyes are there, but instead of love and acceptance, I find them full of curiosity and apprehension. The reddish tint I used to love in his brown hair is no longer noticeable due to a ridiculous amount of hair gel coating it, expertly styled so that it all comes forward forming an off-center peak right in the front. And his body is definitely not that of the eight year old boy that I remember. His white undershirt pulls tight across an insanely sculpted chest, barely hidden underneath a grey lightweight hoodie.

  As we stand eye-to-eye, I take comfort in the fact that at least we’re still the same height.

  Except, I’m still standing on the bed, so actually, that’s not true.

  After seconds of stupefied, open-mouthed gawking, I finally manage to take a step and jump off, thankful for Quinn and Kaeleb’s backwards movement out of my personal space. Once I hit the grou
nd, I shyly glance back up at the boy-turned-man that now towers over me. His eyes narrow as he cocks his head, and for the first time since seeing him, I remember that his isn’t the only appearance that has changed. Although, mine is much more drastic. So drastic that as he stares, I realize he doesn’t even recognize me. And while my initial reaction is to feel saddened that he’ll never know it’s me, that I’m here standing here in front of him, relief floods me and drowns out the sorrow.

  “As Quinn stated, I’m Raven,” I respond abruptly in the direction of Kaeleb, giving only my first name, worried that the mention of “Miller” will give me away. Kind of a moot point I guess, since my student I.D. is lying right by the swear jar on the table behind me.

  Quinn gives me a look of appreciation. “Isn’t she cool?” she states, looking back up to Kaeleb for his approval. I watch as the left side of his mouth jerks up before he replies, “She’s definitely something.”

  I roll my eyes and release a breath. Whatever. I know I’m a freak. I accept it wholeheartedly. But hearing him say it out loud feels as if he just stabbed me in the heart with a dull spoon, taking the liberty of twisting it approximately three times before removing it. It hurts.

  “You’re my best friend!”

  In an attempt to clear my thoughts, I reach for my luggage and open it, hoping they grasp the hint that I’m really not up for conversation or damning conclusions at this moment, or ever for that matter. Not from him anyway.

  Instead, they remain where they stand and the awkwardness of the moment flusters me. “If you don’t mind…” I trail off, pulling mounds of black clothing out of my suitcase and throwing them onto the bed.

  In other words, leave me the fuck alone.

  Just like Pavlov’s dog, my conditioned response lures me to the “swear jar” where I insert a quarter without question. Apparently, my freak mode is in full effect today. Perfect. Not at all embarrassing.

  Pulling the rest of the quarters out of my front pocket, I set them on top of my I.D. just to the side of the jar, running my finger gently along its lid before turning to face the questioning expressions of Quinn and Kaeleb.

  Quinn scrunches up her nose and giggles before inquiring, “What is that thing anyway?”

  “It’s my swear jar,” I respond, completely straight-faced. “It’s Linda’s way of attempting to discourage my unfortunate addiction to ‘vulgar language and unnecessary obscenities’ as she calls them. But sometimes it’s just necessary to throw in the word fuck or shit to really get your point across, you know?” I let out a weary sigh. I think I just met my obligatory conversation quota for the next two years with that one statement.

  Quinn, on the other hand, belts out a laugh. “Fuck yeah, I do!”

  Abandoning Kaeleb at his post next to my bed, she skips her way over to her desk before pulling open the drawer, grabbing a handful of change, then whirling back around to head in my direction. She passes right by me and approaches the table, depositing a quarter before adding the others to my already established collection next to the jar.

  When she turns back around, a sly grin slowly spreads across her face. “Well, now it’s the ‘beer fund’ jar. Feel free to express vulgarity and obscenity anytime you feel the need. This way we can kill two birds with one stone, freedom of expression and the acquisition of alcohol.”

  “Niiiice,” Kaeleb pipes in, still holding the fort down in my personal space behind me. “Can I get in on this?”

  “Sure!” Quinn squeaks, once again bouncing off the balls of her feet while clapping excitedly.

  I twist my body to observe Kaeleb, whose mouth spreads into an absolutely gorgeous, wide grin displaying his perfectly white, straight teeth—much to my detriment. Casting his eyes down to me, he adds with that stupid smile still present on his face, “You’re shittin’ me with those eyes, right?”

  Asshole proceeds to reach into his pocket and pulls out his hand, examining the change in his palm until he finds a quarter, leaning in toward me and reaching around my waist to deposit it into the jar while I do the same. Our hands brush lightly, and surprised by our close proximity, I take a whopping step back into the safety of my no-one-allowed-past-this-point zone. My knees hit the bed behind me as his body once again crosses in front of mine; the breeze of our passing wafts the familiar scent of fresh cut grass and clean laundry between us. More Level 3 memories threaten to escape as I inhale deeply, swiftly rushing forward in anticipation of their long awaited release. But before they can breach my mind I slam the door and lock it once again, hoping Kaeleb’s access was just a one-time occurrence.

  His hazel orbs fill with silent laughter at my response, but his broad smile lessens into a crooked grin as he assesses me from afar. Once I regain mental capability, I yank my mind from the heightened security of the memory bins and my eyes tighten into thin slits. “You’re shittin’ me with that question, right?”

  Quickly leaning forward, I throw one more quarter into the jar and then take three large steps to the side in order to ensure even more distance, forming a triangle between the three of us. Quinn to my left, watching our exchange with way too much interest, and Kaeleb on my right, whose expression is void of the previous humor, yet not unkind. Almost as though the terseness of my comment merely piqued his curiosity.

  We all remain locked in our places and seconds awkwardly turn into minutes, no one really sure where to take the conversation next.

  Sadly, I tend to have that effect on these types of situations.

  After a long while, Quinn is the first to break the silence. “Well, this is fucking awkward.” (Deposits quarter)

  Kaeleb chuckles and responds with, “It sure as shit is.” (Deposits quarter)

  Quinn follows that up with, “What the fuck are we going to do about it? (Deposits quarter)

  To which Kaeleb answers, “Hell if I know.” (Deposit quarter and mouths “That counts”)

  Quinn laughs and states, “Hell yeah, it does.” (Deposits quarter)

  It’s then that they both stop their expletive-charged dialogue to stare at me, obviously expecting me to be a willing participant in this sad excuse for a conversation. My eyes first find those of Quinn, full of hope, and then Kaeleb’s, urging me to say something.

  My eyes flick back and forth between the two a couple of times before I manage to do the impossible.

  A barely there smile plays lightly on my lips and a hint of laughter lodges its way through my mouth as I finally conclude the discussion.

  “Fine. You win.” Reaching back toward the table, I add, “Fuck the beer fund and break open the jar. Let’s get the hell out of here to go get some fucking dinner.” (Deposits three quarters and then empties jar)

  And with that one obscenity-filled statement, we stride out of the dorm room together, forging unlikely friendships—some old, some new—that will forever change the course of our lives.

  See. I told you, Linda.

  Sometimes expletives are just…necessary.

  “Soooo,” Kaeleb begins, wiping the grease from his extra-large fries onto the paper napkin in front of him, “You need a Boarding Buddy.”

  Freaking traitor Quinn left me stranded with him when she went to refill her water and has yet to return. My eyes rake over the tables until they land on her, laughing with two extremely skinny, yet equally boisterous blondes clear across the cafeteria.

  Damn it. I was depending on her to make conversation.

  Sigh.

  “Is that a statement or a question?” I ask, avoiding his gaze while feigning interest in the extremely unappetizing slab of meat on my plate.

  “General observation only.” Kaeleb offers nothing else, so I force myself to make eye contact with him as he sits directly across the table from me.

  He chuckles under his breath, throwing the napkin on top of his empty plate and relaxing back into his chair. “You’re not very fond of conversation, or people for that matter, are you?”

  “No, not really,” I remark, stabbing the mystery me
at before once again meeting his stare.

  The corners of his mouth slip downward and he tilts his head slightly. “Why is that?”

  May-Day! May-Day! Man Down!

  QUINN!!!!

  Trying to calm my anxiety level, I inhale deeply before answering.

  “I don’t know,” I lie. “I don’t really see why that’s any of your concern.”

  My eyes break from his, raking over a group of girls flocked just behind his chair, giggling while eyeing him with interest. Their faces are all smiles as they nod and they speak to one another, most likely discussing their strategic plan of attack. And then, right on cue, they disengage their stares and each set of their eyes land right on me. I watch as their smiles fall and their expressions turn from that of pure delight to ones of absolute disgust. In response, I tighten my gaze and lean forward, causing them to quickly clear their faces of the previous revulsion and disperse every which way. Satisfied with their reaction, I lean back, laughing to myself as they all run into each other, clearly not having planned an effective escape route.

  Dumbasses.

  Shaking my head, I bring my attention back to Kaeleb, who’s watching my silent threat with humor-filled eyes.

  “Don’t you have something to do?” I inquire. “Like go talk to someone who actually would like to reciprocate?”

  His lips jerk upward as he attempts to fight yet another annoying smile…and loses. “Yes, I guess I could do that. But I’m talking to you, which is like pulling teeth. I find it fascinating, so if you don’t mind, I think I’ll just stay put for now. I’m always up for a good challenge.” He tilts his head. “So I’ll ask again…what drives this lack of fondness for conversation and people?”

  Tightening my gaze at his audacious tone, the hold on the fork in my hand hardens as I lean forward, attempting the most ferocious glare I can muster. With the cat eyes, I’m pretty sure I look downright terrifying right now.