Page 1 of Between the Lines

one

nathan

I haven’t hadnightmares in a long time.

In the beginning, they were always the same.

I’m standing on the edge of the driveway to my childhood home. And even though the details don’t at all match the police report, that semi-truck barrels straight into my dad’s sedan right in front of our home, where I’m glued to the front lawn to watch. In that dream, the details don’t matter, because for a split second in time, I have them back.

Now though, after years of keeping everything inside, they’ve morphed. Sometimes, the nightmares come in the flashing headlights of that god-forsaken semi, but sometimes, we’re back in the hospital. My brother Callahan is strapped to the bed beside me. The needle they stick into my back for the bone marrow is the size of a cannon.

Sometimes, he begs me to save him from the plague of his cancer. Sometimes, he begs me to let him be with Mom and Dad, since I’m the reason they’re gone anyway.

I’ve ignored those demons for so long, that sometimes I forget they exist. If I believed in any of Freud’s theories, I might look to my beginning of the school year stress to blame for this nightmare. Rightnow, I can’t even focus on what to chalk it up to. My phone yanks me from a dead sleep by my throat.

The last time a call had woken me like this, it had been to the news of my parents’ death. At 5:07 in the morning, I fear the only other family I have has been taken from me too. Especially when the number on my caller ID is Newton PD.

Fear seizes me asNathan Hardingscratches up my throat before I can even get my phone to my ear.

“Yeah, Mr. Harding, sorry to wake you but uh, we have one of your employees here? She set off the alarm? We need an administrator to come verify that she works here.”

I collapse onto my bed, my free hand cradling my forehead in relief as my phone rests against my chest, my heart ticking against it in rapid, heavythuds. A chill washes over me as the sweat I’m drenched in cools. It isn’t until I feel the call vibrating against my chest that I remember why I’m awake in the first place.

“Sorry, what do you need from me?”

“We need you to come down to River Valley to verify that this woman who set off the alarm is an employee of yours.”

“And I can’t do that over the phone?” I ask, glancing at the clock that is still twenty minutes shy of my first-day-of-school alarm.

“Sorry, sir. We can’t.”

I sit up, wipe the amalgam of relief and exhaustion from my face, and ask, “What did you say her name was again?”

“Claire Benson.”

Claire Bensondoesn’t look like she woke up before the crack of dawn. Claire Benson looks downright chummy with the officer on the scene.

It’s before sunrise, and I am already annoyed with Claire Benson.

She and the officer are standing outside the front doors to themiddle school entrance of River Valley Middle/High, and she’slaughing.

She doesn’t appear much older than a high school student herself; her blond hair hangs long and straight over her shoulders, hitting mid back when she tilts her head to stare up at the equally young officer. Her petite stature barely makes it up to his shoulder. Her manicured nails—painted in River Valley blue—press into his bicep, and I grind my teeth.

I didn’t need to be woken up before my alarm on my first official day as assistant principal to watch one of my many long-term subs flirt with an officer after she set off the alarm.

I clear my throat, approaching them with quick steps. The slap of my Oxfords against the crisp, early morning pavement seems to startle the officer, but Claire’s mouth is still moving in that quick, upturned smile that girls wear when they want a man’s attention.

“What seems to be the problem?” I ask, straightening my tie as I create the point to the triangle.

“Hi. My name is Officer Sullivan. I responded to the call from the alarm company. It’s standard procedure that we verify employment, in case of a break in, but Ms. Benson isn’t able to do so.”

“I tried to explain that I’m a long-term substitute, and that we don’t have IDs or key fobs.”

She shrugs, pink coloring the apples of her cheeks. I’m too annoyed to care.

“Still can’t believe you’re back in the old RV,” Sullivan chuckles.

“It’s just for the time being!” she retorts, laughter coloring the sparkle of jest in her blue eyes that only adds kindling to my fire of aggravation.

---