The Knowers (The Exiled Trilogy) Read online

  I had other excuses I could offer for staying away from the female population, but I didn’t stay away because I thought I wasn’t wanted. I see how girls look at me. I also know they don’t just see me, but the money and connections that go along with me. The package.

  It was late and the party was over. John, Michael, and I took down the lights as the girls concentrated on picking up the trash. I was wiped by the time Sue finally let us go. On the way home, about three miles from Sue’s house, we noticed a totaled silver Kia on the side of the road. Hannah gasped in recognition.

  “That’s Monica’s car,” she said as she pulled out her phone.

  “DaVene, did Monica wreck her car tonight on the way home from the party? What? No… no way!” she whispered. “What happened?”

  The car was quiet, except for Hannah’s sobs, as she listened to the gruesome story.

  Michael slowed down and pulled the car over on the side of the road.

  “What is it, what happened?” he asked Hannah.

  “Monica, she’s… she’s dead.”

  We said nothing for the longest time. The only sound was of passing cars.

  “Hannah, who is Monica?” I finally asked, breaking the silence. I knew everyone at the party, except that one girl. It couldn’t be her, no way.

  Tears streaming down her face, she said through gasps of air, “She just moved here this summer and we started hanging out. She’s really cool, very daring. She was at Sue’s party tonight with DaVene and Shannon, I think, dressed as a Greek goddess. I just can’t believe she’s dead!”

  “Wasn’t that the girl who approached you?” John whispered to me.

  “Yeah,” was all I could get out. The unknown Greek goodness was Monica.

  She talked to me about him and now she’s dead.

  Chapter Two: New School, Senior Year

  The day finally arrived. My first day as a senior, and at a new school. I spent all three years at BHS and now was fated to finish at the new high school.

  So unfair.

  We hadn’t moved but the district had, and they built West Panama High out in the boonies where I live. What did it really matter? I could make it through one more year. It would’ve been easier to be with friends, but when was my life easy? I wasn’t use to easy.

  I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed and into the shower. The hot water began to do its thing. I could feel my bad mood falling away as I stood there wasting water. I turned the temperature up to mildly scalding. It felt like the water was scratching my back, which felt great for a minute until the burn took over.

  Me and my beet-red skin stepped out of the shower and into a steamy bathroom. I wrapped a towel around my waist and caught my refection in the mirror. I wiped away the fog and stood there.

  Looking at myself, something I rarely did, made me smile. I was a senior. I did it. I had survived and not been beaten down by my father’s way of life. I wasn’t perfect, but I knew I was a good person. I cared about my friends and others, I was fairly honest, reasonably talented, and soon to be on my own. One more year to go. I could feel my decent mood slipping away, being replaced with the anxiety of starting off from scratch at the new school.

  I dressed in my usual jeans and button-down shirt and headed down stairs for a quick breakfast. As soon as I opened my bedroom door I knew something was wrong. Eggs, coffee, bacon? Either I was having a vivid hallucination or my father had made breakfast. If he was in the kitchen I could certainly go without food this morning or pick something up on the way to school.

  I made up my mind to slip out quietly when I heard someone humming. Yuck - guess my father’s one-nighter actually stayed the night. I knew he had someone over, per usual, but they don’t usually stick around.

  My curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to see who was brave, stupid, or desperate enough to still be here. I quietly walked into the kitchen and went to the refrigerator for milk. The leggy-sexy blonde was wearing a short pink robe and fuzzy slippers. Her back was to me. Oblivious to my entrance, she was cooking scrambled eggs and bacon.

  She turned to get something from a cabinet and let out a scream when she saw me.

  Damn my curiosity!

  She clutched at her robe, eyes wide with fear and shame. Her face was pretty, but marred from a recent run in with my dad’s fist. I took her in and quickly surveyed the damage: bruises to the wrists, busted lip and blackening left eye. That was the only visible damage. I was sure there was more I couldn’t see.

  “I’m sorry – I didn’t think anyone was here,” she said, flustered, uncomfortable, and reeking of alcohol.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m just headed off to school. Stay as long as you like. I don’t think he’ll be back for a while.”

  This wasn’t the first time I’d seen my father’s “handy-work.” He was wild and vicious, egocentric to the millionth degree. I swear on my mother’s grave I’ll never be like him.

  My appetite was gone. I hurried out of the kitchen and to my car.

  I’d always gotten a ride to school from Michael’s mom before Michael could drive. Now that we were at different schools I had three choices available, all of which seemed like non-options to me: ride the school bus, accept a ride from my father, or drive myself.

  Each option was degrading in its own way. I’d have to choose the lesser of the evils, which I suppose was driving myself.

  As soon as I drove into the crowded parking lot I regretted my choice. Was the bus really worse than the knowing stares? I mean, who did I think I was showing up to school in a racing red Tesla Roadster? I disgusted myself.

  Calm down, calm down, you can handle this I tried to tell myself. Of course I could.

  Let’s get this year over with.

  Given this was a new school, the powers that be decided to use us as guinea pigs to try out new teaching methods. Each grade had its own building. Seniors and all senior activities were housed in Building D.

  First on the agenda was Senior Seminar. As I looked around, I was surprised to see next to no familiar faces. I saw James and Kenny who I went to elementary school with, but we hadn’t hung out since third grade. A few other kids I’d seen before, but didn’t really know. I thought Lizzy was sent here too, but I couldn’t find her.

  Apparently, each morning we were going to get the run down on local, national, and world news. Next would be a mini lecture on some virtue they thought we should have, followed by school announcements. They were trying to get us ready to be productive and active members of society. I went in skeptical but left Senior Seminar feeling eerily optimistic. If they followed through on what they said they were going to do, it could actually be interesting.

  After Senior Seminar I had Calculus, Spanish II, Music, World History, lunch, Computer Lab, and P.E. Not a bad schedule. As I went through the day I saw a few more people I kinda knew and more that were starting to look familiar because I had them in multiple classes.

  Most of us were in the same boat. Seniors pulled from our old school just to populate this new one. The weird thing is we were told how much Bakersfield needed a new high school due to overcrowding – which I could believe coming from a school of more than 4,000 kids. But this school seemed like a ghost town. It could easily hold 3,000 students in all, but it looked like there were less than 700, and only about 150 in the senior class.

  I bet the low numbers were due to the hell most kids and parents raised over making them leave their school in the middle – or end! – of their high school careers.

  The day was almost over, and even though I knew none of my friends would magically appear, I still hoped. I was relieved when I saw Lizzy in Computer Lab. When I didn’t see her at Senior Seminar or lunch I assumed her parents had pulled enough strings to keep her at BHS.

  She looked the same as always, and yet different to me. I’d considered her to be average looking, nothing spectacular. But ever since I touched her on Saturday, she’d been in the back of my mind.

  She didn’t see
me at first. She was in a deep conversation with the girl next to her. I sat in the chair on her right, feeling oddly excited about the chance to talk with her, to see if she was different or if I just imagined the whole thing.

  As I sat down she turned and smiled at me.

  “Hey William. How’s your day been so far?”

  “Actually better than I imagined, granted I imagined being slowly boiled in oil. And you?”

  “It’s been fine, I just got here late,” she laughed to herself. “I’m used to moving around a lot, so what’s the big deal going to one more school? I like meeting new people. There’s so much to see and experience in the world. Change is an adventure – even being forced to do something new can be good for us.”

  Just the same as always. Levelheaded and insightful.

  “Who’s that sitting next to you? You know her?”

  “Her name is Sam. I met her in Biology. She’s really nice.”

  Just met her? When I walked in it looked like the red head, Sam, was pouring her heart out to Lizzy, like they were best friends or sisters.

  Lizzy never met a stranger. There was something about her that others were drawn to. When she’s with you, she’s with you, which makes you feel important, and special, I guess.

  Mr. Hall began class by having each one of us stand up and state our names, our former schools, where we planned to go to college, what we wanted to get out of his class, and one “fun fact” about ourselves.

  Kids were from all over town, East High, West High, BHS, a few homeschoolers, three new to town, and even one kid from Garces.

  I was dreading my turn. Even though I didn’t know anyone in the class besides Lizzy, everyone already knew who I was. Lizzy went before me.

  “Hi, I’m Elizabeth Colby. I spent last spring at BHS and before that, all over really. I’m still undecided about college, but I’m leaning towards Cal State Berkeley or Oregon State. I want to learn more effective ways to communicate on line. And, a ‘fun fact’ about me is I play guitar.”

  I didn’t know Lizzy played guitar. I was thinking about her response when Mr. Hall called my name.

  “I’m Will. Came from BHS. Also undecided about college. I’m up for learning whatever, and I play guitar too.”

  Not so bad. But next year I’m going to love being an anonymous stranger in some university far, far away.

  Mr. Hall continued around the room and then handed out a detailed list of what we would be doing this semester. I thought this was going to be a blow-off class. Guess not.

  After puzzling over how to respond to Mr. Hall’s essay question, “Name five harmful effects of modern technology,” the bell rang. Lizzy and Sam returned to their intense conversation. I wanted to see what class Lizzy had next, but it looked like Sam actually had tears in her eyes. I’m not so good when it comes to girls and crying.

  Chapter Three: P.E.

  P.E. The last class of the day. Right as the bell rang Lizzy slipped through the door and made her way to the back of the gym, plopping down on the floor by me.

  This was another new idea the administration was trying out on us: co-ed P.E. This should be interesting. Ms. Codwell, obviously a new teacher, given her excitement, explained the years’ worth of activities she planned for us. The school had a gym loaded with brand-new equipment, and we were going to use it. All of it.

  This was fine by me. I liked working out. When I was lifting weights I could concentrate on what my body was doing and let my mind go blank. No worries, no cares. Like a mini vacation from my problems.

  Ms. Codwell had more in store for us than breaking in the gym equipment.

  “Kids these days spend too much time indoors, playing video games, being on the computer and watching TV. What you really need is the great outdoors. High-schoolers need to reconnect with nature. Therefore, the district has purchased all the necessary gear, and we are planning to take two camping trips this year,” Ms. Codwell said, pleased with herself.

  We were all in shock. This sounded too good to be true. Wasn’t the school system about to go bankrupt? Weren’t schools in general ditching P.E. programs in favor of more academic classes anyway? This was progressive – in an old school kind of way - and reasonable. So why were they doing it?

  Maybe this year wouldn’t be a total loss.

  “I love nature. Sounds like a lot of fun. Do you camp?” Lizzy asked me, her eyes alight with a peculiar glow.

  “Yeah. I used to go all the time with my family. Before, of course, the accident,” my voice too gloomy for casual conversation. I hadn’t planned on opening this old wound.

  My life was split right down the middle of before and after. Goodness, happiness, and belonging were all on the side of before, before February 14, seven years ago. From that date to the present was after, and marked with heartbreak, bitterness, and anger.

  I could feel my body flushing with sorrow that rushed through me when I allowed myself to think of – let alone speak of – the before.

  I was pretty sure Lizzy didn’t know the specifics of my life, just the basics. She knew – as did everyone in town – of the tragic accident that claimed the life of my mother and sister and the accidental death of my big brother six months later. She had no idea what happened to my father, though. Even Michael and John didn’t really know what happened to him.

  I looked up to see the pity I knew would be in her eyes. But she wasn’t looking at me as if something was wrong with me, but rather the glow in her face intensified, causing my heart to beat faster.

  She had nothing but care and concern in her expression as she said, “I’m sure you miss them. I’m sure you have great camping memories.”

  And suddenly a memory forced itself to the surface: our trip to Big Bear when I was eight.

  My mom and dad planned a surprise camping trip. They picked us up from school, the car packed to the gills. We had no idea where we were going, but as the car began to climb the mountain, we figured it out. Or so we thought.

  When we realized we were headed to Big Bear, we assumed we’d be staying at the lodge, of course. Much to our surprise we bypassed the lodge and headed for the tent camping sites. My mom tent camping? Maybe my dad, brother, and I were getting to sleep outside, while my sister and mom enjoyed nature from a cozy balcony?

  The car stopped at a secluded campsite that was barren, save for a fire pit and picnic table. My parents announced the plan: The Darby family was to spend the weekend enjoying nature and each other, stripped of (most) modern conveniences.

  We unloaded the massive amounts of gear and began the slow, long, comical process of setting up camp.

  We had the best weekend together, just our family. This was the first time, but not the last, we camped together. Maybe it’s because we had the money and the means to go anywhere that we chose the simplest way to vacation. I don’t know. All I do know is how much I looked forward to those trips. Right before the accident we were planning a trip for early spring.

  The bell rang, and I was pulled from my thoughts. For the first time my heart didn’t ache from remembering the family I had. Instead, I smiled.

  I looked around to see everyone heading out of the gym and off to the parking lots.

  This day had gone so contrary to what I envisioned. All summer I dreaded my exile, dreaded being separated from my friends and familiar surroundings. And now, I had to admit, I was actually looking forward to tomorrow.

  Academically there was a possibility I’d learn something in senior seminar; everyday I’d get to practice guitar in my music class, I’d improve my Spanish, and I felt cautiously hopeful about Calculus.

  Academically, yes, this school seemed superior. Academics were important to me, but honestly I was most pleased with the last half of my day. Lunch, Computer Lab, and P.E. were great, not just because they were easy, but because Lizzy was in all three. I’d get to begin and end my day with her.

  I’d decided to remain friendless this year. I wasn’t going to make new friends just to have to leave
them at year’s end when I move away. But I wasn’t breaking any rules with Lizzy. She was already my friend. Okay, not my best friend, but she was still a part of my group. I liked hanging out with her, and I was relieved to not be by myself this year.

  Of course, no matter what I tried telling myself about making relationships, I really hated to be alone. I felt like I was caught in some endless circle, some catch-22: I hated being alone and feared real relationships. So I usually ended up in shallow half friendships, remaining perpetually dissatisfied.

  I let Michael and John into my life. I needed them but knew it was incredibly selfish of me. I’d have to let go of them as soon as I could – for their safety. My father was not afraid to use any means available to get what he wanted. Without so much as a second thought he’d destroy Michael and John – and their families – if my father thought I needed proper motivation for my obedience.

  I was in seventh grade when he had Michael’s father fired. I’d had enough of my father pushing me around so I pushed back. I showed up at his office and announced I would not be going to some stupid fund-raiser with him. I already had plans with Michael and his family to go to Lake Tahoe for the weekend.

  My father looked up and said, “I don’t think Michael’s father can afford to go if he loses his job.”

  I huffed out, worried. As I feared, Michael called me that evening telling me the trip was off. I remember being so pissed. I ran to my father’s study, cussing my head off, telling him I still wasn’t going with him to his party.

  “That’s too bad. I was certain Michael liked playing catch with his father. Too bad he had such as unfortunate accident,” he said with false concern.

  My mouth fell open. Would he really have Mr. Richardson’s arms broken? Yes, he would. . . and he did. Even after I agreed to go, even after I begged him to leave the Richardsons out of it. My father still had both of Mr. Richardson’s arms broken in what I knew to be a staged house robbery.

  I never told Michael what happened, that my father was behind their great misfortune. But my father was evil, through and through, and no one I cared for was safe.