Into the Aether_Part One(11)

“What was that all about?” Greg asked, turning to Lara. She looked down, trying to hold back her tears. She looked up at him to see his face filled with shock.

“What’s wrong with your eyes?” he asked.

“They’re red, because I’m upset!” she said. Why are boys so stupid?

“Lara, they turned black for a moment,” he said in a hushed voice.

“What?” She darted toward the women’s washroom and ploughed through the door; thankfully no one was inside. As she looked at herself in the mirror, her usual brown eyes stared back at her, but for a brief moment, she thought she saw two black ones.

Lara placed her left hand on the mirror, her black knit sweater rolling downward, revealing a forearm lined with light scars. Some crossed the bottom of her wrist. Fresh, light red lines marked the skin there as well. Hesitation marks. New tears welled in her eyes.

Lara knew her relationship with her mother and the stress of the business were having an impact on her. Occasionally, she thought everyone would be better off if she weren't around anymore. One less mouth to feed... The depraved whispers would nag her late at night, when she was tired, or even when she listened to specific songs, or watched certain movies. Lara knew these thoughts were not healthy. What she would never admit to anyone, least of all to herself, was that she somehow felt a macabre pleasure in indulging this small, albeit vocal, part of herself.

She continued to stare into the mirror, lost in thought.

“Lara, are you okay?” asked Greg, opening the door slightly.

“Don’t come in!” she yelled. “It’s the girls’ washroom! There are girls in here, doing... well... girl stuff!” Oh my god, Lara. Lame. She laughed at herself, took a deep breath, and wiped the tears from her eyes. Then she splashed cold water on her face and patted it dry with brown paper towels from the broken dispenser that hung precariously on the wall. She examined her eyes one last time and walked away from the mirror. Upon opening the door, she found Greg sitting down on the other side of the hallway, playing on his cell phone.

He looked up and put his phone away. “Your eyes are back to normal.”

“Thanks.”

“Is that a woman thing?” he asked, picking up his backpack.

She laughed. “I think it’s a me thing.” Did he say things like that because he genuinely did not understand women, or was he just trying to put her at ease?

“Can we still talk?” he asked.

“Sure. Where?”

“Away from the blonde-bimbo brigade,” he responded, looking in the direction Courtney and her lackeys had gone. “Where should we go that they would never be caught dead in?”

Lara smiled. “To the library!”

They walked down the hallway, taking a left at the launching pad that was the soda machine, and past a sign that read ‘Workplace co-op program submissions due March 1’. Greg stuffed the white plastic bag into his backpack along with the bottle of Diet Coke.

“Mr. Jackson won’t let us take food inside,” Greg said.

They opened the big heavy doors to the library, walking through the alarm system that chirped anytime a book or magazine 'mistakenly' tried to leave. The room was in the shape of a large letter L. On their left was a computer lab filled to the brim with students on computers, or impatiently waiting for one. The students who had managed to secure one were using them for various scholastic activities, such as playing games or checking their email.

Mr. Jackson sat at the library desk, eying them suspiciously as they walked in.

“Any food in that backpack, Mr. Parker?” asked the librarian.

“Of course not, sir!” Greg replied. Mr. Jackson’s eyes narrowed.

The two looked to their right. The stacks were vacant except for five long shelves of books. Just past this section, in the lower part of the L, was the study area filled with several rows of empty tables. Lara and Greg proceeded to this section, passing several chairs, a lone teenage boy sleeping in one of them. He was the one who had beaten Greg both in real life and in the dream they shared.

Several educational posters lined the walls of the study area, including one on the Amazon. ‘Did you know 20% of the world’s oxygen comes from the rainforest?’ it said, while another poster on endangered species read, ‘There are about 2,270 endangered species (both plant and animal) that are currently found in U.S. territories’. All the posters were faded from the sun, which streamed in from the large windows that lined one wall. Lara usually enjoyed the view of the central courtyard, but with it being January, the normally lush gardens and large trees lay barren and stark. The two finally took a seat in the furthest corner of the room, beside a window.

Greg plopped his bag on the desk and opened the zipper. He pulled out Lara’s Diet Coke along with the white plastic bag. Reaching back in, he yanked out several flimsy plastic containers with sandwiches in them.

“I got these from the caf. Do you want chicken salad or turkey?” he asked, holding out a container in each hand. Lara looked at him blankly. “I just thought, with you helping me and all...” he said, his face taking on a slight reddish tint.

“I’ll take the turkey.” she replied, reaching for the container. “Thank you. But as I remember it, you hit that thing with a chair.” She opened the container and took a small bite.

“Well, you saved me from being pummeled!”