Cabel's Story Read online

  October 14, 2005, 10:05 a.m.

  “Good luck,” he says, his voice harsh. Cabel Strumheller shoves his way past classmates and off the bus, and enters the hotel in Stratford, Canada. Fuming. Still shaking a little. Eyes to the ground, not wanting to accidentally look at her, see if she’s coming.

  He goes straight to his room and flops on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Three other guys let themselves in. They rummage around the room for a few minutes, but Cabe barely looks at them, barely acknowledges their presence. They don’t talk to him, either. What else is new?

  Once his weekend roommates are gone, off to see the first play, Cabel rolls over on the hotel bed to think about things.

  About Janie Hannagan, and what exactly happened on the bus for the past four hours.

  About what the hell is wrong with her, and how she managed to get inside his dream.

  He slams his fist in the pillow. Can’t get the nightmare to stop.

  Cabel stands on the steps at the back door of his house, hand on the knob of the open door, looking in. Then he slams it shut and marches through the dry, yellow grass.

  His dad bursts out the door after him, yelling, standing on the step, carrying a beer and a cigarette in one hand, a can of lighter fluid in the other. His dad screams at him, and Cabel turns, frightened of the towering man. He freezes as his father approaches. The man sprays Cabe’s clothes with the lighter fluid.

  Sets Cabe on fire.

  Cabel flops around on the ground in flames, screaming, pain searing through him, the fire blistering his skin. And then, with a furious roar, he transforms into an enormous monster with knives for fingers and he lunges for his father with only one goal in mind.

  Killing him.

  That’s how it starts—the nightmare Cabe has had for years. That, or some form of it. It changes a bit each time. Cabel can’t imagine a worse nightmare.

  But that’s not even the part that’s bothering him. Not now. He’s packed away all those emotions, thank you very much. That nightmare he can handle.

  But what happened on the bus? That was just crazy. Because this time, asleep sitting next to Janie, he actually watched himself have the nightmare. As if he were an onlooker to someone else’s dream.

  And Janie was there, too, behind the shed in the backyard with Cabel.

  Watching.

  Watching Cabel’s dream play out as if they were right there, in it.

  And then afterward, when he woke up, seeing the shock in her face too—it was like a confession, and she didn’t try to deny it.

  He knows her. Knows where she lives. Casually, not weird like a stalker or anything. They’d ridden the bus together since middle school, back when Cabe was a grade ahead of her. Back before his dad messed up Cabe’s life.

  But Cabe doesn’t want to think about that now. Doesn’t want to think about his dad ever again. He’s done with that. Done with him.

  Still, the nightmare he had on the bus is fresh. He didn’t think he was still having that one. But now he knows he has been.

  And he’s not the only one who knows that.

  The monster man roars and runs away from the house, back toward the shed.

  There’s a girl back there. Janie. The girl he always dreams about.

  The monster man growls. He sees her.

  She squeaks and closes her eyes, her back pressed up against the shed, as if she’s trying to melt into the siding.

  And then the monster transforms, back into Cabel. He looks at the girl, so sorry, so very sorry for scaring her. Wanting her to see him like nobody else ever does. The guy that nobody really knows. When she opens her eyes and sees him, she steps toward him.

  He touches her face.

  Leans in.

  Kisses her.

  She kisses him back.

  “Ugh,” he says, remembering how the nightmare ends. Squeezes his eyes shut, trying to figure it out. Trying to understand how Janie Hannagan managed to see all of that.

  “She’s a freak,” he says slowly. “Psychotic. What if she’s an alien?” Cabe shakes his head. He’s seen enough weird stuff to know that weird stuff really happens. Not much surprises him anymore. And after what just happened, thinking Janie might be an alien or at the very least, psychic, isn’t much of a stretch. Is she dangerous, though? He thinks she might be.

  He feels the paranoia coming, lets it wash over him. Was she spying on him?

  How long has she known that he dreams about such awful things? And that he dreams about her? It’s embarrassing. And now, quite possibly, after four hours riding together in the freaking middle of the night, she knows the dreams and nightmares of half the people on that bus.

  But why are they oblivious when he’s not? Why aren’t they confronting her?

  Is he just imagining this?

  He can’t figure it out.

  He saw her on that bus. For hours, on and off, she shook. Out of control, like a multitude of seizures. She’d begged him to keep quiet about it after the first episode, made him promise her he wouldn’t get help, wouldn’t tell a soul, no matter how many more times it happened. He saw how she was too weak to get food when they stopped at McDonald’s. Watched her helplessly. She looked terrible. Would anybody subject herself to that on purpose?

  But she got inside his psyche, where nobody else could ever go. Where he doesn’t want anybody to go. And it’s scary. What is she?

  He hasn’t felt this vulnerable in a long time.

  Cabel shakes his head.

  He thinks about the first time she noticed him at the neighborhood bus stop on the first day of junior year. It was funny then—they’d ridden the same bus for a few years, but he’d never seen her even glance his way.

  He’d heard what Carrie Brandt had said to Janie back then while they waited for the bus to come. Lookie, it’s your boyfriend. And Carrie laughed. God, that was embarrassing. Janie shushed Carrie, but then she started laughing too.

  Cabe sat behind them on the bus to school that day. Pretended to sleep so he could overhear. In case they were going to make fun of him even more.

  But they didn’t.

  Not Janie. Not ever again.

  He caught Janie’s eye once or twice after that, and she didn’t look away in disgust or anything. But they didn’t speak.

  When the homecoming dance approached, Cabe thought fleetingly about asking her. Ha. Yeah, right. No way she’d go with him. He was a total loser. The only group that accepted him was the Goths. And they take anyone.

  He almost didn’t even go to the dance, but the guys were going to hang out, so what the hell, right? He never even went inside the gym. He just loitered outside

  the back door with the guys, smoking, and thinking about how he should quit now that he was getting his life figured out. And wondering if Janie was inside.

  When the door flew open, nobody saw it coming. The doorknob gutted him before his foot could stop it. Took his breath away for a minute. Searing pain. He doubled over. His friends laughed. Why not? It was funny for them, he supposed.

  But his eyes stayed on her as she flew out of there as if on a mission in the dark, cool evening, heading down the same street Cabe had walked dozens of times a year, every time he missed the bus.

  She wobbled on high heels like she’d never worn them before. It was a long walk home, and not very pleasant—it was getting cold and the farther away from school, the worse the neighborhood got. Once Cabe got his breath back, he eyed his skateboard.

  Maybe now was his chance. He adjusted his beanie, shoved his bangs up under it a little so he could see. Lit another cigarette and smoked it slowly, his fingers shaking just a little.

  “You going after her?” one of the guys, Jake, asked him.

  “Maybe,” Cabe said coolly. He took another drag and le
t it out slowly, then crushed the butt with his shoe and grabbed his board. “Yeah.”

  “I’m coming,” another guy said. “Curfew.”

  “Me too,” said another.

  Cabe took a breath and frowned in the dark. “Whatever.”

  Before he could change his mind, he tucked his board under his arm and they set out.

  It took several minutes to catch up to her on foot, and for a short time he thought he’d lost her. She’d abandoned the high heels by now, but the neighborhood was deteriorating rapidly as they moved toward the crappy side of town, where both Cabel and Janie lived.

  He saw her tense up as the three approached. The two guys laid their boards down and she froze. Cabel cursed under his breath. He didn’t mean to freak her out.

  “Jeez!” she said. Recognizing him, thankfully. “Scare a girl half to death, why don’t you.” She looked pissed.

  Cabe shrugged. Outwardly cool, inwardly a mess. His gut twisted and churned. What the hell am I doing? But it was too late to go back now. He tried desperately to think of something to say. The other guys skated up ahead, giving him some distance.

  “Long walk,” he said. Cringed at how lame it was. “You, uh”—his voice cracked—“okay?”

  “Fine,” she said, clipping the word. “You?”

  Cabel gulped. He took a deep breath. No idea what to do next. But he could hardly stand to watch her walk barefoot. She was limping already.

  “Get on,” he said, and put the board down on the ground. Took Janie’s shoes from her hand. “You’ll rip your feet to shreds. There’s glass an’ shit.”

  Janie stopped. Looked at him. And he could see something in her tough-girl face. Vulnerability or something. It made his stomach twist.

  “I don’t know how,” she said.

  He grinned, then. Relieved. She didn’t tell him to get lost. Definitely a step in the right direction. “Just stand. Bend. Balance,” he said. “I’ll push you.”

  And, after staring at him for a long minute, she did it. Unbelievable. He placed his hand gently on the small of her back, hoping that was okay with her, but not about to ask. Pushed her, and after a few wobbles, she figured out how to stand without falling and tilt the board to steer as he pushed her through the crappy streets of South Fieldridge.

  He hadn’t felt this good about himself in a long time. And even though he couldn’t think of anything to say, it was okay, there in the dark. The two of them, awkward, silent. The warmth of her back on his hand in the chilly evening. The fact that she trusted him. That she wasn’t afraid. That she didn’t run away screaming.

  She let him touch her, for crying out loud.

  Incredible.

  He hardly noticed when the other guys took off, heading to their respective homes. It was all he could do to keep his concentration on avoiding stones and glass.

  When he pushed her up her driveway to the step, he knew it was over. For the moment, at least. But it was enough for now. It was hope.

  Janie hopped off the skateboard and opened the screen door.

  He set her shoes on the step, hesitated for a moment, then picked up his board and left her there without a word. Just a nod. Totally at a loss.

  He was at the road when he heard it. “Thanks, Cabel.” Her voice was thin, soft in the air. “That was sweet.”

  Freaking music, it was. Enough to make a guy a little bit crazy inside.

  Cabel thinks about that day a lot lately.

  He sits back up on the hotel bed and then goes into the bathroom. Splashes water on his face and just leans over the sink, his head butting up against the mirror, thinking. Thinking about how, back then, he had no idea just how complicated this thing was going to get.

  3:13 p.m.

  While the rest of the seniors of Fieldridge High are at the theatre watching Camelot, Cabel wanders the hotel, then heads outside and walks to the nearby shopping mall. He takes in a movie—it’s a tough call choosing between Capote and Return of the Living Dead 5, but after the nightmare on the bus, horror is not sounding good today.

  He grabs dinner at the mall’s food court and hangs around the music store until he gets kicked out for looking like a no-good teenager. What is it with adults anyway? They’re so scared and suspicious all the time. Hell, Cabe thinks, w e’re just trying to get by, like them.

  He wanders down to the Chapters bookstore and browses the sci-fi and fantasy section. Thinks this whole thing with Janie and the nightmares feels a little sci-fi, too.

  And then he pauses.

  Looks around the store, and moves to the self-help section.

  When he sees a shelf of books on dreams, he grabs a few, finds a chair, and settles in. Hours go by as he reads, studies. Fascinated. At closing time, Cabel purchases the books. He walks through the darkness back to the hotel.

  He pretends to be asleep when the guys come in after eleven from the theatre. Doesn’t want to answer any questions about where he’s been all day.

  Besides, his brain is full. He’s exhausted and still confused. Troubled. But his anger is fading.

  It doesn’t seem like Janie can help it, or she would have tried to hide it on the bus. That’s the conclusion he comes to, anyway.

  He drifts off to sleep.

  October 15, 2005, 4:03 a.m.

  Cabel’s in a shopping mall. In the center courtyard, there is a kiosk with a short line of people. He gets in line behind the others. Sees a giant wooden box on the floor.

  Two people climb in and lie down. The vendor running the kiosk closes the top on them, and then pushes a button. The box slowly descends into the floor as the line of people watch in silence.

  “What’s happening?” Cabel whispers to the person in front of him.

  “It’s a game,” the girl says. She turns to look at him, and Cabel realizes it’s Janie.

  “Like a virtual ride or something?”

  “Sort of.”

  Cabel shrugs and watches. The box surfaces once again and the lid opens. Only one person gets out— a sobbing woman. She points to the box and cries out, “He’s dead!”

  Immediately the paramedics are there. They remove the dead man and the kiosk worker signals for the next people in line to get into the box.

  “This is not cool,” Cabel says to Janie.

  “It is what it is,” Janie says.

  The next couple goes down and when they surface, the man gets out. He is sobbing, pointing. “She’s dead!” he cries out. People have to help him walk away.

  Cabel’s sweating now. “Come on, Janie,” he says. “Let’s go.”

  “We can’t,” she says. “If you get in the line, you must stay for the ride. See?” she points to a sign that says exactly that.

  Soon it is their turn.

  “Please, Janie,” Cabel pleads. “Come on! We can just go. Do you see what’s happening?”

  “We can’t control what’s happening, Cabel,” she says. She looks at him with sorrow in her eyes. “There’s no controlling it. It is what it is.”

  The kiosk worker signals Janie and Cabel to enter the box. Up close, Cabel can see it’s lined, like a coffin.

  “No, Janie— no. We don’t have to do this!”

  Janie gives Cabel a sorrowful look. She hesitates, and then she says, “It’s okay.

  You stay. I’ll go.” And then she squeezes Cabel’s hand, brushes his cheek with her fingertips. Smiles a sad, crooked smile.

  Cabel watches her step into the coffin. “Wait! What will happen?” But he already knows.

  Janie waves. “It’s okay,” she says, sincere. “It would have been me anyway.”

  The kiosk worker closes the lid on Janie.

  Cabel is frantic, watching the box being lowered. “Stop!” he cries. “Stop! Let me in!”

  But it’s too late. Cabel lunges for the box as it disappears into the floor. Cabel falls to the tile, unable to speak or scream or cry. Finally he gasps. “Coward!” he says to himself. “Janie, no! Come back! I’m sorry!”

  The wait is
endless, but finally the box returns to the surface. The lid opens.

  Janie is dead.

  Cabel rolls over in the bed. “No,” he whispers.

  4:55 a.m.

  He sits up. “Sheesh,” he says, awake now. He looks at the clock, disoriented.

  Forgets for a moment where he is. The other guys in the room are sleeping soundly.

  Cabel takes a deep breath and settles back down on the pillow. He feels his heart still racing. Tells himself to calm down, and after a while, he does. But he can’t get back to sleep.

  Finally, he dozes off again, restless.

  8:24 a.m.

  Cabe ignores the others as they get ready for a final session of Shakespeare before everyone heads back to Fieldridge High. When they are gone, he takes a long

  shower and slowly gets ready for the day. Thinking. Thinking about Janie. About the dream. About all sorts of things and how they relate to his life … and to Janie’s, too, probably. Shame. Disappointment. Loneliness.

  He pulls up the comforter and sits down on top of it, trying to figure her out.

  And knowing that even though he doesn’t understand her, he needs to know what happened … and what could happen. There’s no way he can just let her go or keep silent, like he did on the skateboard night. No way he can look at her again without demanding answers.

  11:31 a.m.

  Cabe hops up off the bed, hungry and resolved, and grabs his jacket. Slips his shoes on. Thinks about what Janie must be going through right now, this minute.

  Wonders if she skipped the morning play to catch up on sleep. He imagines her, stuck in a room with three other girls and their collective dreams all night. He’s sure Janie really needs food by now.

  And … well.

  It’s not going to deliver itself.

 

 

  Lisa McMann, Cabel's Story

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