Chapter 30

Heather & the Gardener

Remembering the sickening crunch of helmets and protective gear as Adam ran through the defensive line, Heather hurried home thinking one thing: She needed to confront Burton—right away. It would be a long walk. No one noticed Heather as she left Orchard Valley’s parking lot and headed toward home. Her wardrobe was practically camouflage. Old jeans and drab sweatshirts constituted her daily attire. When she wanted to, she could practically—save for the scar—blend into walls. She went through the whole school day without fixing her hair or looking at herself in the mirror. In short, she faded into the background.

The crisp autumn air cooled her scar, which had been burning more intensely with each harmful feat Adam forced his body to achieve on that field. Her mind flashed with nightmarish images of Adam’s bloody cloth, his sharpened razors, the bottle of lemon juice, rubbing alcohol, salt. The way Adam’s emaciated body stood on the stage in the darkness of the morning and tried yet didn’t try to confess.

The thought of it all made her hurry, and just as she quickened her pace, a grey sedan pulled up beside her. Heather flinched, expecting berating words or threats—or even to be hit with trash flung in disgust from the car window. But nothing of the sort happened.

“Heather, do you need a ride?” It was Louis, a boy she had tutored on a paper for AP European History.

Before Heather could answer, a girl in the passenger seat frowned. “That’s Heather Primm! She’s a Traitor! Why on earth would you offer her a ride? The hideous scar should be warning enough. T is for Traitor. What are you thinking?”

But the boy in the driver’s seat shook his head. “You’ve got it all wrong. This is Heather Primm. She’s always willing to help. I don’t know about Traitor. I think the T stands for Tutor. That A I got the other day? Heather helped me get it. It’s the whole reason my parents let me start taking the car to school, remember?”

The girl in the passenger seat rolled her eyes as Heather climbed into the back seat. It wasn’t the first time she’d been offered repayment for her altruism, but it was the most public and—under the circumstances—the most helpful.

Yes, Heather was finding her way after the terrible incident. But as Louis’s car pulled up to her driveway and she saw the stooped body of Burton Childress working in his garden, Heather realized that it was more than she could say for poor Adam.

Louis dropped Heather off at her house. “There goes a brave girl,” he whispered as he drove away, watching her in his rear view mirror. “She’s one of those people that will show up at our ten-year reunion more successful than any of the people that treated her like garbage while they were in high school.”

“Oh, shut up, Louis!” said the girl in the front seat.

Stooped over his garden, Burton paused at Heather’s approach, but he did not look up. Heather rushed to him before he even had time to look back. “What are these herbs?” she asked, uprooting a wilted black plant.

He spun around, a wry smile fading to disgust. “Stop! You’ll kill them.”

“Good! Is this the one that’s making Adam sick?” She uprooted another.

“Stop it! Stop it!” Burton groaned. He reached out to stop her hand, and for a moment their skin touched. From his hunched position, Burton looked up at Heather with the admiration and awe of one meeting a favorite celebrity. He paused a moment, star-struck, and seemed likely to drown in her eyes.

As for Heather, she maintained her firm gaze. She had come here to save Adam, and she would not let Burton distract her from that purpose. With difficulty, Burton pulled himself back to reality. He took the plants from her hand and cradled them like infants. He poked around in the garden and re-buried their roots as best he could.

Heather towered over him, watching. She couldn’t help but notice how much more Burton had changed since the summer. His skin had lost its luster. It was both pale and dark at the same time, like the color of something living at the bottom of the sea that had not seen the sunshine its entire life. As he worked, he frequently looked up at her, and he hurried his work as if he were afraid she would leave if he took too long. His eyes reflected a red glow. It could have been a reflection of the late autumn sun, but Heather doubted it. She pulled her sweatshirt tighter around her frame; gazing at his eyes, she was overtaken by a sudden chill.

“Well, yes or no?” Heather demanded once Burton had finished nursing his injured plants. They had already started to wilt. She stood in front of Burton with her hands on her hips. Her eyebrows drew into a scowl as she awaited his reply. “Are those the herbs that are hurting Adam?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m helping Adam. I’m giving him medicines for his ulcer.”

“His ulcer?”

“His doctor diagnosed it. I don’t know what Adam eats when I’m not around, but whatever it is, it’s not good for his stomach. You blame me for hurting him, but you don’t understand that if it weren’t for me, Adam would be at the doctor’s office every other day! My teas have been healing his ulcer.”

“So the only thing wrong with him is an ulcer?” Heather asked.

Burton tried to hide a smile. “It’s what ails him. At least—physically.”

“What else ails him?”

“That’s what I want to know.” Burton tapped the soil with his bare hand. “He seems rather guilty lately. Like he’s hiding some dark secret he wants to keep to himself. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? It’s odd, too. His nervous condition seems to worsen whenever he’s around you.”

He patted the dirt around his precious plants, and he cleaned his hands with the hose. Heather shivered. Winter was already haunting the Massachusetts air, and the water must have been near freezing. But Burton didn’t even flinch. Heather watched him until she understood what his face looked like: It looked like winter. The way a plant would wilt if left in the snow. And yet the fierceness of the season shone in his eyes. It was as if he would destroy anything that got in his way. When he looked into her eyes, Heather felt herself losing body heat by the second. Her hooded sweatshirt was not warm enough. The only thing that did not seem to freeze was her scar. It burned twice as hot as if trying to overcompensate for the chill Burton imposed upon the world.

Heather said nothing, and Burton chuckled. “You seem to be gaining social status. The rest of the school doesn’t hate you as much as they used to.”

“They’ll hate me again at the next big game—or the first big loss. But until then, they’ve got better things to worry about. Which is more than I can say for you.”

“Me? What do you mean?”

“You live to torture others. Why don’t you just leave Adam alone?”

“Your presence makes that difficult.” Burton stepped closer.

“What?” Heather stepped back.

Burton turned away. “I hate Adam,” he mumbled to his plants.

“Why? What has he done to you?”

“Adam has something I fear I’ll never possess, and I hate him for it.”

“What does he have?”

Burton paused. His lips drew up in shame, and he whispered the words: “Your love.” Burton turned to her bitterly. The pale flesh under his eyes was red and twitched with the threat of frustrated tears. “And he squanders it. He squanders it!”

Heather didn’t know what to say.

“I told you, Heather. I’ve never been popular. I’ve never fit in. I’ve never known what it was like to have a normal life. Don’t you understand? Just watching others go out on a casual night out with friends. Grabbing burgers and a movie. Meeting up at the coffee shop. These are little things everyone takes for granted, but they’re things I’ll never know. No one has ever wanted to include me in their plans. All I’ve wanted was to fit in. All I wanted was to be somebody.”

Heather tried to keep her hatred for him boiling, but it was difficult to do. His pleas were so pathetic, so sad, that a little corner of her heart felt for him. “If you’re so desperate to fit in, why wouldn’t you try to make friends the normal way? Why do you feed Adam those teas that make him follow you like a zombie? Why not just be friends? You say you’ve never been popular or fit in, but you insist we don’t contact each other in public? I don’t understand you.”

But it was just a little piece of sympathy she felt, and she focused her thoughts on all the horrible things he had done to Adam.

Burton lowered his eyes. His hand trembled, and he held it to his shriveled ear. “When your blog first broke the football story, I thought that you were the only person in the school with a reputation worse than my own. I thought that further contact with you would only hinder my efforts at social success.”

“So it was selfishness, then.”

Burton nodded. “But now the scar has made you stronger. You’re stronger than me. You are stronger than anyone I know. Most people are like fish in the sea. They can move about here and there, but they’re largely bound by the ocean’s currents. But not you, Heather Primm. You make your own current. You’re bound by nothing. Now, I think being seen with you would not be such a bad thing after all.” He paused. “I—I was thinking about the H-homecoming Dance. I was wondering if…”

Heather’s eyes bulged. “Are you really asking me out again? Here? Now? When we’re supposed to be talking about Adam?”

“I can’t help it.” Burton stooped, his back hunching. “I’m drawn to you, to your power and strength. Can’t you go to the dance with me?” At that, he reached for her face, and he cradled it in his icy hands. Her scar burned hot against the chill. He gazed into her eyes, and Heather saw only obsession. The red glare in his pupils held her captive, and she did not flinch when he leaned in to kiss her. It was a cold kiss, his lips just as icy as his hands. And it was a dark kiss. And yet there was something serene about it, as if in this kiss Burton found a moment of true peace. He pulled his head back but kept his hands around her face.

He moaned. “Oh, Heather! Why would I ever expect someone like you to fall for someone like me? My awkwardness. My deformed ear. I see why you would prefer someone like Adam. But I can’t help the way I feel. I’m drawn to you. And therefore I must be drawn to Adam. As long as he has your love, he shall have my hatred.”

But Heather had enough of Burton. She pushed his hands from her face and rubbed her hand across the scar on her forehead before speaking. “I want a straight answer.” She pointed again to the wilted herb. “Is this plant poisoning Adam?”

“Don’t be silly!” Burton insisted.

Heather shook her head.

“Why on earth would I poison Adam? He’s my liaison to the sports department. I’m trying to help him.”

“So you’re saying this herb is beneficial to him? I’ve seen you put it in his tea over and over again.” She crossed her arms. “I want a yes or a no.”

“I told you. I’m trying to help him.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I took a bite of it?” Heather plucked three black leaves from the plant and held them to her mouth.

“Do as you wish,” Burton said.

Heather put them closer to her mouth. She looked Burton in the eye. Normally, he kept a calm face. But Heather saw beneath that façade a building anxiety. It was a test of wills. Would she eat the plant before he stopped her? She touched the withered leaf to her lips. Her tongue emerged to meet the herb. It was bitter and pungent, and it made Heather pause, allowing Burton to stop her, pulling her hand away with his icy fingers.

“It’s as I thought, then.” Heather snickered, dropping the other leaves. “You’ve been poisoning him.”

“It’s not poison.”

“I’m not keeping your identity a secret from him anymore. When I first saw you and Adam hanging out, I should have told him that you and I spent some time together over the summer.”

“You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone that we ever knew each other.”

“I don’t care,” Heather said.

“Adam is your source. I have that secret yet. I can tell the school!”

Heather crossed her arms. “I wish you would. It would be better for him to face whatever the consequences of that revelation will be than for him to keep his secret hidden—and for him to allow you to slowly poison his body. Tell me, Burton, what is this herb? Does it cause him to lose his appetite? Does it cause him to stay up all night? To cut himself? Does it make him delusional? Does it make him suicidal? Would you go so far as to let him kill himself, whether intentionally or through neglect? I’ve heard some rumors about you, Burton, and I’m afraid of what you’re capable of.”

“I can’t change my behavior,” Burton said.

“I will no longer stand by silently.” Heather clenched her fists. “I first agreed to keep Adam’s identity a secret just as I agreed to keep your own. I see now that was a mistake—in both instances.”

“No it wasn’t. If you had told me Adam’s identity, I would have revealed it in front of the school the day of the assembly. Adam would have stood up there on stage with you for the entire school to see. That wouldn’t have done him any good.”

“It would have. It would have been difficult for him initially, but he could have found peace and happiness. He could have been with me.”

“Maybe he would have quit the team.”

“It would be better for him. Now the team idolizes him. Do you realize how terribly he feels—like a hypocrite? If his secret were out in the open, at least he could deal with it openly as well—instead of this awful, private torture he imposes upon himself.”

“But my herbs are helping him.”

“Maybe some of them are.” Heather pointed to the black leaves on the ground. “But others are torturing him. You say your herbs prevent him from having to see a doctor.”

“Yes.”

“And that is truly a disservice to him. In his state, he should be seeing a doctor each and every day. Who knows what notions he’s entertaining in his head? I can’t keep this anymore. I’m going to talk to him, and if need be I’m going to refer him to a counselor. Him and you both!”

At this Burton chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re right,” Burton said. “My herbs have prevented him from seeking the help he needs. But you must admit what a marvelous job they’ve done!”

“What do you mean?”

Burton’s face had changed. Its pallor had turned ruddy with ambition. His eyes narrowed and sparkled with pride. “Oh, by now I’m sure you know about the cutting.”

“You know what he does to himself?”

“Of course!” Burton laughed. “With all the herbs I give him in those teas, he’s like a docile little zombie for me. I can find out anything I want. And he has no idea I’m doing it. He barely remembers the afternoons we spend together. I’m pleased. My medicines have worked miraculously well for my purposes.”

“Your dark purposes. Is it true that you poisoned your teacher’s dog at the school you used to attend?”

To this, Burton only smiled.

“And now you’re practicing your horrible skill on my ex-boyfriend.”

That made Burton scowl. “He was always undeserving of you.”

“I thought you liked me.”

“I did,” Burton said.

“I thought you wanted to go to the Homecoming Dance with me.”

“I did.”

“How could you do something that would hurt someone you know I was close to? If I agreed to go to the Homecoming Dance with you, would you promise to leave Adam alone from now on?”

Burton considered this. “I want to, and I would do anything to go to the dance with you. But I can’t. I can’t make that promise. There’s something beyond me, something I can’t control. I hate that boy. I hate him. Hate, hate, hate.” He spit the words, and his eyes seemed to glow redder with each one. “And as long as I’m able, I’ll continue to work against him. I hate myself for it, and yet I can’t stop. I’m an energy vampire. I know I am, and I can’t help it. I feel alive when I suck the life from his tortured body. I’m a fiend of my own making, and I no longer have control over myself. I’m a soulless fiend, Heather. I can’t help what I do. And it’s all because of you, all because I fell in love with the girl next door.”

With that, he approached her for another kiss, but Heather slapped his face. “Stop torturing Adam.”

He looked down in shame. “I can’t.”

“Then I’ll have no choice but to tell him everything I know about you. And I can’t be held responsible for the consequences. I’m giving you one last chance to stop this madness on your own.”

“I wish I could,” Burton said, his eyes getting redder and redder and his skin growing even paler in the cooling afternoon. “But there’s something compelling me to act this way, and it’s something I can’t betray. I wish that you would forgive me. I wish that you would see some justification in my actions. You have so much goodness in you that you can’t possibly understand why I act the way I do. I wish you had some badness in you so that I might one day be attractive to you. I wish that you could forgive me.”

“Forgive you?” Heather asked. “That I can never do!”

With that, Heather turned away and huffed towards home.