Part 4 (1/2)
I dropped the chalk and it hit the floor and shattered like a dehydrated china doll.
”There's one thing you're going to understand. This is Calculus. Now sit down.”
The chorus of Neanderthals stifled their laughter.
My seat was near the back of the room, the row next to the windows. I had a great view of the school yard. I watched the October wind blow through the trees and make the gra.s.s dance. Autumn was gorgeous. Leaves turned the color of fire. I heard a shuffle outside, a flutter. A flapping of wings. Around the bush the white raven flew and perched himself in the tree branch outside the cla.s.sroom and eyed me. I wasn't sure if it was the same raven from before. I tried to look for a tell-tale sign that it was him, but the raven's eyes looked blue today, and not sea green.
When the bell rang, he flew away.
Cemetery Love Song The woods were melancholy. Vacant. Devoid of life. I was there again today. I hoped I'd see him, but I didn't.
The theater was slow. Strange for a Friday night. Left me with a lot of time to think. The last show ended at 12:35 a.m.
Marcus leaned against the wall outside the theater, eyes dancing with amus.e.m.e.nt. I dug my hands into my coat pocket and exhaled. I could see my breath. He extended his hand to me and pushed away from the wall. ”Come with me.”
When he was near me, it felt like my veins were laughing. I placed my hand in his and my skin tingled with joy. We made our way to the cemetery and sat atop the graves. His dark hair hung down in his face. He looked over at me, a grin in his eyes. ”If you could be anyone else, besides yourself, who would you choose to be?”
”Okay. Don't laugh.” I looked up at him. ”Molly Ringwald.”
”Nah. You don't wanna be her.”
”Yes I do. I'd want to be Molly Ringwald, Pretty in Pink.”
He looked at me. ”But you're not her. You're the opposite. You're Ellie Piper, Pretty in Black.”
He leaned in closer and his hand grazed mine. I tried not to breathe too deeply. His eyes scanned my body then raised back to my face and landed on my lips. I stayed perfectly still as he inched closer. I quit breathing. His eyes bore so entirely into mine that it was almost as if we were becoming one person. Then he kissed me pa.s.sionately. His lips on mine caused tiny explosions within me.
”Don't let me go, Ellie.”
I grasped at him. I ran my fingers through his hair. He was only kissing me, but it felt more powerful. Almost like we were having s.e.x. I had to close my eyes and take deep breaths. He pressed me against the grave, his body now on top of mine.
I ran my hand underneath his s.h.i.+rt. His chest was cold, hard, and chiseled like stone. My hand touching him was like fire touching ice. He was melting. His moans, the sounds escaping from his throat, shot daggers of ecstasy through me.
In the darkness of my lids, I saw the sun setting, night flowers blooming, stars exploding, our bodies grinding. I tilted my head back and he licked and pecked my neck.
The whole time I thought, This is unreal.
If he wouldn't have stopped when he did, my heart might've exploded. He looked into me, his eyes on fire. A lingering intensity. The sky sprinkled snow on us. It fell all around and was warm instead of cold. This feeling was magical. Almost like being trapped behind the gla.s.s of a snow globe that depicted a beautiful and frightening image of two lovers dying to stay alive with their lips.
The heavens spun around him and me. We were alone. We were isolated from existence. But we were one. His eyes lamented the pain he felt without me and it resonated in my soul.
I wiped a glistening tear forming in his eye; a snowflake melted on his lid or a hidden emotion. I pressed a quiet finger to his trembling lips.
”Shh, my lover.” He rested his head against my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. I had been shaken.
Opera House Marcus decided to take me on a real date, inspired by the idea that he needed to get me out of Maxx's dance club and show me a sophisticated and cultured evening. I tried to argue it with him, but he said, ”I know you like darkness. That's how I know you'll love this Gothic Opera at Venice Hall.”
”Oh. Opera. I don't understand Opera.” We walked down the sidewalk in the Upper District. It was overcast with vines lit by white Christmas lights.
”Opera isn't something you understand. It's something you feel. From feeling comes understanding. If you try to understand everything in life, it ends up never making sense.”
He shoved back his hair. ”I'm glad you're the kind of girl who knows how to dress for these kinds of events. I've got us the best seats in the house, by the way.” He flashed me front row tickets.
”But I wanted to be on the balcony, not down in the crowd.”
”Oh,” he said. ”But guess what? You can have any seat in the entire Opera House.”
”How's that?” He ran up the steps of Venice Hall, then reached his hand out to help me climb the steps in my dress. Venice Hall looked like a Gothic Cathedral.
”Because we have the whole theatre to ourselves.”
”You're serious. How'd you manage that?”
”Private showing.” He opened the door and led me in. I bet he had to pay a lot of money for us to have the entire theatre to ourselves just for one performance. The hallway had red carpet that's typically found in theaters of this sort. The interior was laced in Victorian decor circa 1839.
”Is this furniture replicas or is it the real thing? Antiques?”
”Most of this furniture is the real thing, inherited by the owner, pa.s.sed down the family line.”
”It's ancient,” I whisper-exclaimed. ”But it's beautiful.”
He led me into a dark chamber. As we descended into the darkness, he told me a little about the show and the history of Opera.
”The first known Opera house began in Venice, Italy in 1637. So Opera's been around for a long while. I, myself, prefer dark Opera, when the show combines melancholy and lamenting music with Victorian dress. Tonight we watch an Opera written by modern day composer. Bunnenci, Italian writer presents: Morte Sala and Oscuramento.”
We took seats in the center of the theatre. The light spilling in from the hallway allowed me to see Marcus just enough. I wondered what he was thinking. When the ushers closed the doors behind us, locking us in the pitch dark theatre, I jumped a little. The sound of shutting doors echoed off the walls of the almost empty theatre. I felt my heart race. I was alone with Marcus in a dark silent room. I heard my heartbeat drum in my ears. I heard myself breathing.
Our elbows touched, which sent sparks up my arm. Then, someone switched on a theatre light and the stage lit up in white mellow light and I saw Marcus smile. I relaxed a little and settled in my seat. The play opened up with a woman, lamenting the imminent death of the man she loved and would never see again. It ended in a complete cacophonic darkness and I felt my heart compress.
Until Marcus looked at me again. Then I was okay once more. When we exited the theatre, it was sleeting. Rain and ice mixed together. The weather here was rather strange. Marcus pulled an umbrella from his back pocket and unraveled it. Cars made a slush sound as the tires rolled over water and ice. The night was still young.
”So what'd you think of that?”
”I actually loved it. It tugged on my heart a bit. It was sad.”
Marcus tilted his head to the side. ”What do you want to do now?”
”Dance,” I said.
”Ah. You want to go to Maxx's club.”
”Yes. I do. It's right up the street.” I could almost hear the music spilling out onto the sidewalk. He was reluctant to move, so I pulled him in the direction of the place. He let me and before I knew it, we were inside, lights flas.h.i.+ng everywhere. Happiness swam through my veins as I led him to the dance floor. At first he just stood there, until I told him, ”Stop a.n.a.lyzing it. You've just gotta feel it, remember?” I swayed in and out of reality. I floated above consciousness. I was pure energy. Everything around me blurred into complete oblivion. Everything but the music. Everything but Marcus. Everything was Marcus.
Questions I spent Sat.u.r.day morning in the quiet confines of the library. In the back of the room, I sat by a window trying to catch up on some homework. I needed the stillness and silence that the library offered so I could focus. I pressed my hand to the icy gla.s.s and wiped away the gossamer layer of frost to see outside. The landscape was covered in white slush.
I crammed all of my accessories into my bag and left the library. My mind wouldn't stay focused. I paused under the roof of the library when I felt snow land on my head and melt quickly into water. That tickling sensation swam through my veins again and I grinned as I turned around and looked upward. Marcus burst into childlike laughter. He sat on top of the roof of the library.
”How'd you get up there?”
”Don't worry about that.” He leapt down and landed perfectly on his feet, directly in front of me, like he was used to doing this. His eyes glistened. He wore a green sweater and a long black coat. He was so d.a.m.n gorgeous.