Chapter 8

A Sinister Companion

Heather, Ruby, and Burton sat in front of the darkened television in total silence. They had ordered a pizza, which Heather and Ruby ate mechanically. Burton had barely finished one piece, nibbling on it with trembling hands as he watched Heather. His mouth practically frothed with delight, and his eyes couldn’t stop smiling. Heather tried not to watch him, but her eyes were drawn to him the way they were drawn to a car wreck. Sighing, she cleared the plates and washed the dishes by hand—as slowly as possible. She returned to the recliner and looked wishfully at the clock, but it was too early for bed, even for Ruby.

Heather returned to the recliner. Her sister sat quietly on the couch, seeming to sense Heather’s anxiety.

“Here, Rue. Why don’t you watch some cartoons?” Heather turned on the television.

The colorful characters and music danced through the room, an ironic chorus to Heather’s brooding mood. Nonetheless, she sat back in the recliner and allowed her eyes to rest upon the images. The cartoons seemed slowly to chip away at Ruby’s worries, and she giggled now and then at the goofy character on screen. Heather watched her and wished for childhood, for a time far removed from the traumas of high school. More than a few times, Burton cleared his throat as if to speak, but Heather dared not look over, and each time she pretended not to hear.

The cartoons blurred together on the screen as Heather replayed the day’s events—and all those things the other students had been posting about her. One word stuck out above the others in all the status updates and blog entries and emails.

Traitor.

By the time Ruby’s cartoon ended, Heather was already thinking about transferring to private school. How could she possibly continue at Orchard Valley? Her mother’s jarring advice echoed in her mind: sometimes people don’t want the truth. The opening titles came on for the next show, jarring Heather from her thoughts. She looked at the clock, shocked that a full hour had passed while she was wallowing in self-pity. She turned towards Burton and shuddered: his eyes were wide and fixated on her. His lips curled in a subtle smile, and he made no movement when Heather looked at him. She wondered whether he had been staring at her the whole time and shivered when she realized he probably had.

Heather turned away from him. “Ruby, do you have any homework?”

Ruby shrugged. “It’s Friday. I’ll do it later.”

This was not like Ruby: Ruby hated homework, so she always finished it right away, leaving the weekend free. Heather frowned. “Then don’t you think it’s time for bed? The last thing Mom would want is to come home and find you still awake.”

Ruby was usually obedient, but tonight she merely shrugged and settled deeper into the couch, pulling a crocheted blanket over her shoulders.

“Rue, what’s gotten into you?” Heather asked.

Ruby shrugged without moving her eyes from the screen. An uncomfortable moment of silence passed before Ruby said, “I want someone to read me a story.”

“Okay,” Heather said, glad for the excuse to get up and leave Burton.

Ruby pouted. “I want someone to use all the voices. You can’t do it right. No one here can do it right.”

Ruby’s words fell like a knife through Heather’s chest. She remembered the summer nights that Adam used to let Ruby pick out a book. He’d read it to her using the most animated voices—a different voice for each character. Heather had never seen Ruby so happy. And watching Adam, Heather herself had never been so happy, either.

But all that ended once Adam stopped seeing Heather after the blog post in August.

“I know what’s wrong with your sister,” Burton said, jarring Heather from her memories. His voice was deep and prophetic.

“What?” Heather asked, daring at last to make eye contact with him.

“It’s all that’s happened to you at school today. You’re giving off a very anxious aura, and your sister is picking up on that.”

“An anxious aura?” Heather rolled her eyes. “I doubt that.”

“Trust me.” Burton smirked. “I know.”

“What do you mean, you know?”

Burton rose from his chair and walked to Heather’s recliner. He held his hands just above her skin so that she could feel his body heat as they passed over her. Burton closed his eyes and breathed heavily, hovering his hands over her flesh. “Yes,” he said finally, his hands stopping just at her forehead. “Your aura is very disturbed. Scattered. Uncertain. Things are not right. You’ve got nothing to keep you grounded.” He opened his eyes again and put his hands on the back of the recliner. He leaned down so that his face was just next to Heather’s. “I’ve watched you and your sister for years,” he whispered into her ear. “The two of you are very close. Your moods rub off on each other. Your sister idolizes you. She wants to follow your footsteps in being a journalist even though writing isn’t really what she loves. You’re her world. I’ve seen it.”

“You’ve watched us? What do you mean you’ve watched us?”

“You may have noticed, I don’t have many friends. There’s nothing else to occupy my time except schoolwork and my herb garden. So I’ll admit it: I’ve watched you.”

Heather shuddered. She wanted Burton out of her house and her life. “I think you should go home now. Ruby and I are going to bed.”

“How are you going to get her to bed?” Burton asked, still leaning down over the recliner. “She won’t listen to you in the mood you’ve gotten her in.”

“I haven’t gotten her in any mood,” Heather insisted. She pushed Burton away. “Ruby! Time for bed!”

But Ruby simply stared at the colorful images running across the screen. Her face mimicked the expression of a funeral guest. Heather allowed herself to turn her head ever so slightly to look at Burton. The cartoon images reflected in his eyes, glowing and unnaturally bright.

“I don’t understand,” Heather whispered.

“It’s simple. She knows how miserable you are, and it’s put her into a depression.” He touched Heather’s neck with two fingers. It was a light, crawling touch like a spider skittering across her flesh. “Your heart is racing. Your sister can sense it.”

Heather pushed away his hand. “But I haven’t told her anything. She has no idea,” Heather insisted, rising from the recliner and her neighbor.

“You mean she didn’t overhear you telling your mother about the assembly today?” Burton followed Heather into the kitchen. “You know she’s always eavesdropping. You mean she didn’t happen to glance at your laptop and see what all the others are saying about you?”

Heather raised an eyebrow. “How could you possibly know all that?”

“I know things. And I know how to get her to sleep. She needs something to calm her nerves. I have just the thing.” He reached into his black backpack and pulled out a green powder. To Heather’s questioning gaze, he answered, “Crushed herbs. From my garden.”

“You can’t give her that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know what that is. Maybe you’re trying to poison her.”

“What good would it do me to poison your sister?”

“Maybe you want revenge on me. I denied you getting any credit for this story, and I turned down your offer to go to the Homecoming Dance. Why wouldn’t you want revenge on me? You know how special Rue is to me. Getting her sick—or worse—would be the perfect way to get revenge on me.”

“Heather Primm, for someone so good at writing, you’re not very insightful. But I suppose that’s understandable, given today’s events.” His half-smile faded. “Your double rejection of me did make me angry. But I would never take my revenge on your little sister. She’s done nothing to me. I only want to help her. These herbs will calm her and help her to sleep. And won’t that help you, too? I thought you wanted her to go to bed before your mother came home.”

Heather shook her head in disbelief.

“I’ll take my chances with my mother. I want you to go home now.”

Burton raised an eyebrow.

“Besides, even if you don’t want revenge on my sister, you’d certainly take advantage of any chance to get revenge on me.”

Burton sighed. “You still don’t understand. Maybe I’m defective. Maybe it’s my biological make-up. Maybe some pheromone has made me sympathetic towards you. In any case, I still have somewhat of a—soft spot—for you. If you, Heather Primm, were to invite me to the Homecoming Dance even now, I would say yes.”

Heather shook her head, her lips mouthing the word “never.”

“Besides, I don’t need to seek revenge on you. You see, that trophy you accepted today has work it will do to you. Most of the student body hates you. The rest of your time at Orchard Valley High will be worse than even the worst day I’ve ever experienced there. You’ve read online what the other students are threatening to do to you. Have no doubt—some of them will act upon those threats. Your trophy will avenge me, you see. The other kids at school will mete out your justice.”

“You’re wrong.” Heather crossed her arms uncertainly. “The students will forget fast. Something else will come up, and the whole assembly will be forgotten. I’ll fade back into the crowd.”

“I doubt that. What you did is too big for anyone to forget.”

As if in response, the phone rang.

“I’ll get it. It’s probably Mom.” She looked at Ruby. “And I’m sure she’ll be heartbroken to hear that you’re still awake.”

But it wasn’t her mother.

As Heather spoke on the phone, she watched Burton open his package of herbs and mix them into a chocolate milk concoction. “Who was that?” he asked once Heather hung up the phone.

“It was Principal Elders,” she mumbled, horrified.

Burton seemed amused. “What did he say?”

“He got a call from the superintendent. Apparently, the superintendent was so impressed by my award that he wanted to make sure the trophy is put on display the whole year—in the main trophy case in the front hall. Right next to the trophies for our football state championships—or at least, where those trophies used to be.”

Burton’s lips curled into a sinister smile. “It’s just like I said. Your deed will never be forgotten.” His smile grew as he handed Heather the chocolate milk concoction. Without argument she gave it to Ruby, who drank it without protest and soon after fell into a deep sleep.

With Ruby asleep, Heather and Burton sat on the floor with their backs against the couch. Heather was torn. Part of her hated Burton and wanted him to leave. But another part of her needed a sympathetic soul to talk to. Adam had abandoned her, her father had moved away, her mother was busy with work, and the student body had ousted her: Burton now offered his friendship, and she was tempted to confide in him. Would that be so bad? What if she just told Burton who her source was? What if she just agreed to take Burton to the Homecoming Dance? She didn’t want to, not really. But at least if she did, she’d have a friend.

An only friend.

But could she really do it? Was Burton sympathetic and awkward, or was he just plain creepy and conniving? Heather turned to watch the strange smile on his lips. It was almost as if he were reading her thoughts. His eyes reflected the lamplight. Even there, with nothing to prove and nothing to do, his eyes were moving within their sockets. They were calculating eyes. Heather shook her head. In any case, she could not—would not—allow herself to trust him. She would rather be alone.

“I think you should go home,” Heather said.

“Not yet.”

“I’m not going to tell you who my source is,” she said.

“Not in so many words. But you will tell me before this affair is done. You owe it to me.”

“Owe it to you?”

“Don’t you remember all those rides to your babysitting jobs this summer? Didn’t they mean anything to you? Am I not even a friend after all that?”

“I didn’t know those rides had strings attached. I thought you were just being nice. Now that I know you wanted something, it’s a little creepy, actually. I would never have accepted the rides if—”

Burton frowned. “I suppose I can’t blame you. I’m not very likeable. Few people even want to look past my ear. It’s so twisted and deformed; they assume the same about me.”

Heather squinted to study his ear. It certainly didn’t look like he had been born with it that way. “Burton, what ever happened to—”

But it was a question Burton didn’t want to answer, so he pushed a greasy lock of hair over his ear and interrupted: “People only ever see my ear. They can’t grasp that I’m just a normal teenager, just like everyone else.”

Heather looked skeptically at his smile and his calculating eyes and backpack of herbs, but she dared not share her opinion of his normalcy.

“I can’t blame you for not wanting to go to the dance with me,” Burton continued. “Someone as beautiful as you would have almost the pick of the school. Until recently, I’ll bet you could have dated anyone you wanted. A writer, for example.” He stared in Heather’s eyes even though she looked away. “Or a football player…”

Heather crossed her arms and looked at the clock. Her mother’s date must be going well. She was later than expected.

Burton sighed “Nonetheless, you will tell me his identity before the end. I already have my suspicions.”

“What suspicions?”

Burton grinned. “Judging by the fact that he would not reveal himself to claim his share of the prestigious award, he must already enjoy quite a comfortable social status—possibly one connected to the athletic department. Am I not mistaken?”

Heather said nothing.

“I still suspect a football player.”

Heather turned her head away and crossed her arms.

Burton smirked. “I have something for you,” he said, reaching into his bag.

Heather’s stomach lurched, and she twitched, shifting away from him.

“Calm down. It’s just a drink. Like the one I gave your sister. It will calm you. Otherwise, you’ll never be able to sleep.”

Heather knew it was true. Her heart was already pounding, and her mind raced with tormenting thoughts of the next few days at school. She checked on Ruby, who slept peacefully on the couch—and indeed was still breathing—before returning and nodding to Burton. Burton rose from the floor, mixed some green and brown herbs into a glass of milk, and brought her the drink.

But could she trust him? True, he had not harmed her sister, but would he harm her?

“If that’s poison,” she said, swallowing a lump in her throat, “I’ll gladly drink it. I’d rather die than spend the rest of the year at Orchard Valley.”

“Don’t be so overdramatic. You don’t really mean that.”

“Try me,” she threatened, taking the glass. “If it’s poison, this is your last chance to stop me.”

“I’d drink it myself if my nerves were as frazzled as yours.” His eyes and voice turned soft. “Besides, I could never bring myself to do you harm.”

Heather shuddered, but she swallowed the drink. The milk was barely enough to disguise the herbs. It tasted of earth, and she cringed. “Now you’ll be able to sleep,” Burton said. Heather nodded and sank into the couch. She could already feel warmth radiate from her stomach. “Are you bringing the trophy back to school on Monday?”

She smiled faintly, feeling much more willing to speak than she had a moment ago. “I have to. Principal Elders requested it—at the request of the superintendent. How can I not?”

“You’ll draw so much negative attention.”

“I know.” Heather shuddered. “But what choice do I have? Besides, I thought you were happy I was now the center of negative attention,” Heather mused dreamily.

“If we could just spare your reputation, then…” But Burton whisked away his thought with a puff of air. “Listen, go into school early. See if your mother can drive you. Go in early so that no one sees you with that shameful trophy.”

“Shameful trophy?”

Burton nodded. “Not to you. Not to me. But to the rest of the school, it is a shame. You might as well have some black and gold badge embroidered on your chest. You’re a traitor, Heather. You’re marked now for ruining the school’s glory days.”

Heather nodded, her eyelids already growing heavy.

“If you want, I could—I could even drive you there—before anyone else arrives.” Burton fidgeted. “You know, I’d gladly take the blame away from you were I able to receive the award in your stead.”

“It’s too late for that, Burton. Besides, I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.” She eyed him carefully, wondering if he indeed were that person.

“You’re only a junior. I’m a senior and need to find some claim to fame to help me get into a good college.”

An awkward silence separated the two.

“It’s getting late,” Heather said, fighting a yawn. The last thing Heather wanted was to fall asleep with Burton lurking about in the house.

“All right,” Burton said, gathering his herbs into his backpack. “Go into school early. Enter through the alleyway.”

“The one with the dumpster?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It leads right into the main office. It’s always unlocked early—for the custodians and teachers to enter.”

“How do you know?”

“I know things,” he said matter-of-factly. He reached out his hand and ever so lightly touched Heather’s face, running his index finger down her forehead, her nose, and her chin. His touch made her skin crawl, and she shuddered. Yet she gazed into his eyes as if he held her beyond her control.

“One more thing,” Burton said while he held Heather’s gaze. “From the school’s point of view, we are not—nor were we ever—friends or acquaintances. I do not need the added shame of your stigma making my miserable high school existence even more miserable. Do not make eye contact with me at school. Do not recognize me with nod or look. You’re a burden, Heather Primm, and I cannot bear that in public. We will have no more public contact, for I have much searching to do. It will be easier done without you as an added stigma. Do you understand?”

“Much… searching?” Heather muttered. But she could not break her gaze from her strange neighbor’s eyes.

Just then, Heather heard a key turn in the door, and it was as if the spell had broken: Heather turned towards the door with relief to watch her mother enter, a smile on her face. She must have had a wonderful date.

“How was your evening?” Mother asked, putting down her keys. “Did Burton stay long? He seems like such a nice young man, Heather.”

“Did he stay long?” Heather asked. “Mom, he’s right—” But when Heather turned to look at him, she saw only an empty space. Burton Childress and his backpack had vanished.