88. The Wheel Goes Round and Round

The note in my locker is supposed to comfort me. And I guess in some ways, yeah, it does.

It’s a typed note without a name at the bottom. But I know it’s from Mr. Meiners.

Chris:

It’s not safe to come around. The group isn’t meeting anymore. At least not for a while until things die down.

Remember this from Psalm 61:3—

“For you are my safe refuge, a fortress where my enemies cannot reach me.”

Keep this verse by your heart. Remember it when you need it the most.

I fold up the note and look around to see if anybody is spying on me. But I know that someone is probably always keeping tabs on me, everywhere and all the time.

I want to believe that God is my refuge and fortress. But it feels like I need to find that place first before I can be safe. Right now it seems like my enemies are all around me. There’s nothing I can do but just walk amidst them and hope that one of them doesn’t grab me and slit my throat.

A nice thought before heading to English class.

A little while later, I’m beating myself up.

Wondering what happened to that take-charge, stubborn guy.

He left the moment that stubbornness got him nowhere.

What happened to the guy who refused to take no for an answer and didn’t like being told what to do?

Jocelyn happened. Then Poe happened. Then Lily happened.

They all either died or were forced away.

It’s the middle of the night, and I’m counting the minutes until tomorrow and the days away until May and the weeks until Memorial Day.

Just counting and feeling the dread seep in and doing nothing about it.

I know I can pray, and I do pray. But I don’t see any burning bush in the middle of Solitary or any parting seas on Marsh Falls. Nope. Just nice, raging silence.

There has to be something I can do.

There has to be a way to stop whatever’s going to happen on Memorial Day before it arrives.

I try and think who I can ask for help. Somebody out of the norm, somebody not in this crazy story. Mom and Dad are out. Uncle Robert is useless. Aunt Alice—well, I’ve got some other questions to ask her, but she won’t help me figure out how to solve this mess.

Kelsey is still avoiding me and talking to the basketball star.

Newt knows, right? Yeah, maybe he does know, but he’s been avoiding me too. He wants me to keep fighting, but then he ends up hiding out while watching me do so.

But sometime in the circling wheel of my thoughts that keep spinning and changing, the wheel stops and lands on someone unexpected.

Yes.

I picture a guy nicknamed after a candy bar. A guy who pays me for doing—well, I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing, but he thinks I’m doing something.

Ask Mounds.

Of course I can’t tell him everything. But he’s one of the few people who won’t wonder if I’m losing my mind when I ask about something to do with ghosts and demons and dark things.