Defying Vesuvius

Chapter 2 - Ella

"Dude, what was up with you in math today?" Miya's voice squawked through the phone speaker.

"Just feeling . . . off, I guess." I cradled the phone against my cheek with my shoulder as I steered Lady off the main road and into the smaller, poorer part of town. Emville wasn't big enough to be considered a city, but over the years it had grown large enough to have distinct neighborhoods—the kind that even adults avoided late at night. The houses here were crammed together haphazardly, sitting low and squat on small plots of land, just a thin strip of brown grass separating each cracked driveway. It was a far cry from the sterile, sharp lines of the newer buildings in the center of town, but these homes had a certain lived-in charm I hadn't found anywhere else. Being surrounded by these older, unassuming houses usually calmed me down when I was feeling out of sorts, but today seemed to be an exception.

Miya laughed. "Yeah, I'd say." The chatter of students in the hallway provided a constant buzz in the background, and Miya practically had to shout for me to hear her over the noise. "Go home and get some rest. You don't want to be sick for the dance on Saturday! You're still helping me pick out shoes tomorrow, right? I thought we could go down to the mall after school and try some on. I need a second opinion, and we both know Owen won't help. I was thinking midnight blue, like my dress, but Mom suggested silver, so I want to try on both—"

I let her chatter on excitedly, offering a few mm-hmm's and absentminded replies when it seemed appropriate. Unlike most girls, I didn't get excited about school dances, probably because I'd been to more than I could count. No matter when or where it was, it was always the same routine: get dressed up to spend three hours in a hot gymnasium with sweaty teenagers doing barely appropriate dance moves. But Miya had been so excited to go together that I would have felt bad saying no when she'd asked. That, and the fact that if I didn't go to the dance, I'd most likely be left sitting at home watching reruns of Friends.

"—with Cyprian today," Miya was saying over the phone.

"Wait, what?" I turned on the windshield wipers as a few fat raindrops splattered on the glass.

"The new kid in our math class. Name's Cyprian. Pretty strange, huh? What is it, Greek?"

"It's Latin," I said, belatedly adding, "I think." The rain came down faster, wind buffeting the sides of the car.

"He's yummy."

I sputtered a laugh. "You have a boyfriend."

"Hey, hey, nothing's official yet." I could hear the smile in her voice, picture her holding the phone with one hand and reapplying lip gloss with the other in the school bathroom. "But he is cute, isn't he? And if not for me, how about you? I'm up to playing matchmaker."

"No way, Miya. Don't—!"

The bell rang loudly through the speaker, effectively cutting me off, and Miya let out a heavy sigh. "Gotta go. See ya later, El."

"Miya, don't say anything—!" The line clicked as she hung up.

I sighed and turned on the turn signal, meaning to head home, and as I did my fingers fumbled the phone. It fell onto the floor at my feet and slid under the brake pedal. I held one hand on the steering wheel, and after checking that the road was empty, bent down to pick up the cell.

As I straightened up—phone clasped firmly in my hand—a shock of golden-blond hair flashed in front of the windshield of my car and I slammed on the brakes. The seatbelt pulled tight across my chest and I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for impact. The tires slid and squealed on the wet pavement, finally coming to a jerky halt in the middle of the road. I opened one eye, then the other, and slowly released my death grip on the steering wheel. I looked around. The street was empty, the windows in the houses dark. Already, the heavy rain was letting up, a sliver of sunlight breaking through the clouds.

I could have sworn I saw—

No. I gave my head a sharp shake. Not possible.

I ran a hand through my hair, letting out a shaky laugh that sounded closer to crying—which is what I felt like doing. I leaned forward and rested my forehead on the steering wheel. This isn't right. He can't be here.

But, somehow, he is.

It can't be him. It's just a random guy who happens to look like him. Seeing him brought up the memory, and I was already shaken up from my dream this morning.

You recognized him as soon as you saw him, you just don't want to admit it. You're afraid of what it means.

A tapping at the window made me jump. A boy stood beside the car, brows furrowed in concern. I rolled down the window.

"Are you okay?" His brown eyes were large with worry, and his curly brown hair hung low on his forehead, like he was due for a haircut and just hadn't gotten around to it.

I pushed a stray strand of hair out of my face with one hand and let out a long sigh. "Sure?" I said, then cleared my throat and tried again. "Sure."

A low chuckle. "Sounds like it. What happ—"

"Did you see anyone run across the road?" I blurted.

He blinked. "No, I didn't see anyone." He studied me with a funny look on his face, like he was debating whether I should have been committed to a mental institution.

Ha. That time's long past.

He cleared his throat. "So, uh, Emville High, right?" He nodded at my backpack, which I had thrown onto the passenger seat. The school's green-and-white crest was emblazoned proudly across the pocket, an image of an eagle in mid-flight. They were big into school pride, despite the fact that our football team, the Emville Eagles, hadn't won a major game in over four years.

I nodded, grateful for the change of topic. "Yeah, I'm a senior."

"Cool, me too." He flashed me a crooked grin and I felt some of the nerves from before fading away. "Maybe I'll see you—"

"Benjamin! Get back in here!" A harsh voice yelled from inside one of the houses.

He winced and shot me a sheepish look before turning away. A small woman appeared in the open doorway of a shabby house, scowling as she watched him walk up the porch of the house. Her face was set sternly and she stepped in front of him when he passed her in the doorway, murmuring something in his ear in a low voice. He said something in response, and without a word, she raised her hand and slapped him across the cheek, despite standing at least a foot shorter than he did. The silver ring on her hand flashed and the sound of the slap echoed down the street, but Benjamin didn't flinch. Didn't shout. Didn't give any reaction at all.

I watched, wide-eyed, as he turned and walked through the doorway, the woman close at his heels, shooing him into the dark house. She pivoted and reached to close the door behind her, eyes narrowing when she caught me staring. I quickly tore my gaze away, but not before I caught the glare she shot my way. She slammed the door shut so hard it rattled on its hinges, and I fumbled for the gearshift, my cue to leave. 

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