Hidden Illusions
Melanie Holbrook climbed out of her second floor window and sat down on the cool, black slanted roof beneath her. Every night she sat out in the fresh air, to get away from all the noise and violence of her house. She could see right into her next door neighbor’s bedroom from hers. She knew some of his secrets, though he wasn’t aware of it. Every night after his parents had gone to bed, (she could tell because the lights turned off), Jordan sneaked out of the house. Though she had no idea where he went, Melanie noticed he always wore the exact same thing: dark shorts and a hoodie.
She felt like she knew him, though she had never even spoken to him. She watched him do his homework, play with his dog in the yard, hug his sister, do his hair for school in the morning. They went to the same high school—Holbrook High—named for some relative of Melanie’s who had practically built the place. It was a large school, and Melanie’s main goal was to be invisible.
Most of the time, she succeeded. She was careful to put on just enough makeup to cover the dark black circles under her eyes, and the long scar on her forehead, but not enough to be beautiful. She never wore perfume, high heels, or tight jeans. She got only slightly above average grades, though she could have aced all her work. She got into trouble, but also never told on anyone else she saw breaking any rules. No one really knew Melanie well, but they all assumed she had a relatively normal life. She was quiet and shy, and read books a lot, but her family wasn’t poor, and her parents were together. she was the type of person everyone looked at and shrugged off as just…normal.
Melanie thought through her last two years at the school. She had only really had one good friend. In ninth grade, she had met a little black girl, Kaylie, who was only thirteen at the time, but smart enough to have been admitted into the school, a rare thing at Holbrook. She’d had leukemia, and died half way through tenth grade. Melanie had loved the little girl like a sister; the loss was chaotic for her. Melanie jumped as a glass shattered in the background, interrupting her reminiscence. She reached for her iPod, turning it up to tune out the shouts drifting up to her bedroom for the third time that week.
It was getting worse. They fought almost every night now. Tears slipped down her face as another of her mother’s screams reached her ears. In the next house, Jordan switched off his light and headed downstairs. Melanie was desperate to get away. She watched him walk from the house, and spur of the moment decided to follow him. Several years ago, she had secretly nailed four think pieces of wood to the side of the house, specifically for occasions like these. She reached the ground just as Jordan disappeared into the woods behind their small neighborhood. He broke into a swift jog. Melanie kept up easily, but stayed silently out of sight.
The narrow dirt trail twisted and turned several times through the trees until finally Jordan broke into a sprint, stripped off his top, and dove into the lake. Was there always a lake back here? Melanie thought, finding a place to stand behind a tree and watch. Jordan swam fast and hard, his muscles rippling atop the water as he raised his arms for each stroke. An excellent swimmer, he melted into the water and let it surround and move him as he drifted across the lake. Melanie watched for a while longer and then slipped back into the woods. The house was dark as she climbed back up to her window, and her father’s truck was gone.
She slipped quietly past her mother’s bedroom, pausing only momentarily at the sound of her gulping sobs. Broken glass shards and splotches of blood littered the kitchen floor and countertops, wallpaper was torn off several walls, and a chair lay broken on the floor. She winced as a small piece of glass cut into her toe. After an hour of scrubbing and sweeping and bleaching, Melanie finally had the room back to a presentable state. She took an orange bottle our of the medicine cabinet and laid one white pill on the stand outside her mother’s door.
Computer off, homework stuffed into her backpack, and alarm set, Melanie rolled into bed and lay staring at the ceiling. She had tried counting sheep, listening to Mozart or Brahms, stiffening and relaxing, and countless other techniques that supposedly helped you relax and sleep. Her therapist said she had hypnophobia, a fear of sleeping. Ridiculous, Melanie thought. How can anyone be afraid of sleep? She hated school counselors. They always treat you like a child, she thought. I’m not scared of sleeping or anything else. Except for maybe my father. The thought floated quickly through her mind.
It was true, Melanie realized, but she didn’t want to dwell on the fact. She rolled onto her side, sitting up abruptly as her face landed in a cool, sticky puddle of sweat. Melanie looked down. Her pillow was nearly covered in her own perspiration, her mouth so dry she could hardly stand it. She headed to the bathroom for a glass of water, grabbing a new pillowcase on the way back. Her water was gone quickly, but after downing three more glasses of it, Melanie decided just to go to bed. She checked her clock. 2:00 am. Great. Three hours of sleep if she was lucky. She wouldn’t fall asleep for about an hour Melanie guessed, rolling back into bed.
She was right. She dozed off just as her father’s truck pulled back into the gravel driveway. Melanie showered quickly the next morning, pulling on her usual straight cut jeans, plain t-shirt, and tiny half-inch black heels. She brushed her dark auburn hair back into a bun, scowling at her tall 5’7” frame and thin body. Foundation, concealer, and just a tad of blush were Melanie’s best friends. She didn’t spend hours in front of the mirror every day like other girls her age, but if anyone saw that long white scar, a lot of questions would follow, something Melanie absolutely did not want.
The fresh air on the walk to school in the morning was something Melanie appreciated immensely, reveling in the peace and quiet of the morning. She walked barefoot to school, often keeping an extra pair of shoes in her locker. Eating lunch alone, skipping gym class, reading below the desk: these were things that characterized Melanie’s days at Holbrook. Often, playing basketball after school was added to the list, but only on certain days when no one was in the gym.
For the next couple of nights, Melanie followed Jordan and watched him swim, fascinated with the way he seemed to become a part of the water as he swam. It was Thursday night when her parents started fighting again; she followed Jordan as usual but watched longer than normal. She crept up to the edge of the trees to watch his strokes, and started to stand just as he finished, startling him.
“Hey!” he yelled. She ran. Melanie had not expected to ever be caught watching him, and couldn’t even imagine his anger. Jordan ran after her, but she was in her bedroom nearly a full minute before he caught up. He stood outside the house, looking up at her window curiously. Finally, he entered back into his own house.
Melanie laid on the floor of her room, staring into his. She had more trouble sleeping the night than she had in years. Half an hour was all she got, thinking the entire night about Jordan. What if he tried to approach her at school? Or worse, what if he told her father? Morning could not come quickly enough. Melanie dragged herself through her morning preparations, dreading the day ahead. She set out several minutes early to guarantee Jordan not trying to catch her before school. She was almost relieved when lunch came, and two classes with Jordan hadn’t brought even a glare. No notes, no lectures; he hadn't even talked to her.
She opened her locker to grab her books, revealing a bright blue piece of paper taped to the inside of her door. “I’ve seen you watching me”, it said. “Come with me.” She stared at it for several moments, first confused as to who would have left such a cryptic note. At that moment, Jordan walked past her down the hall. She looked at the note again. No way, she thought. It couldn’t have been him. Could it? She glanced once more. No. Stuffing it in her back pocket, Melanie decided to just ignore it. She’d throw it out when she got home. Saturday, Melanie spent all day at the library doing research for a school essay. She sat at the table with her laptop, and pulled the blue paper from her backpack pouch. She tossed it into the trash next to her. For the next three hours she worked nonstop, pulling out various books and magazines, and typing and printing pages. When she was finished, the entire table was covered with books, papers, articles.
Back home, it was after ten, and Mel’s parents were yelling as usual when she walked in.
“Where have you been?!” her father yelled.
“I…I went to the library. I told you…”
He slapped her across the face.
“Ryan!” her mother screamed. “Get your hands off her!”
“Get back, woman!” He turned back to Melanie, grabbing her arm. “I told you…” he growled, “to tell me when you go places!”
“I did!”
He moved her closer, tightening his grip on her arm. “Don’t lie to me, girlie.”
“I’m not lying!” she wrenched out of his grasp, running up to her room.
“Get back here, girl! Don’t you run away when I’m talking to you!” He chased her up the stairs, her mom following.
“Ryan, don’t you dare lay a hand on her again!” Melanie turned just in time to see the punch which landed square on her mother’s face, knocking her down the stairs.
“Get out from behind me, woman!” he yelled, tramping down after her, only to hold her up by the shirt collar and start yelling again. Melanie shut her door and scrambled out the window as fast as possible.
Sobbing hard, she ran to the lake and sank down on the rocks, watching the water ripple lightly at her. The moon hung full and white overhead, shining onto Melanie’s tearful reflection. She sat there for a long time before she heard her father’s truck pulling away again, and began to head back. She jogged along the path, and feeling nauseous as the house came into view, slowed a bit. Her head was spinning, black spots swam before her eyes, and her breath came in short gasps as she climbed up the boards and collapsed on her bed.
She could barely swallow, her mouth was so dry. She was exhausted, but trembling and sweating. Feeling sicker than she ever had, Melanie moved the trash can over to her bed and lay down. She never got sick, but drifted off sometime within the next couple of hours, trying to get her mother’s blackened face out of her mind. Melanie tossed and turned the entire night. Every hour or two, it seemed, she woke from yet another nightmare, usually shaking and sweating. She was used to stifling her own screams, pretending to be asleep, and washing off with a wet towel at night because she couldn’t take a shower. Masked men chased her, and faceless spirits threatened her. Men tried to catch her, tried to hurt her, tried to kill her.
Melanie woke up at 3:00 a.m. and despite all attempts, could not sleep again. She got up and searched through her bookshelf, remembering now a task she should have completed earlier. Adding a few more books to her already crammed backpack, Melanie shivered slightly as a light breeze brushed over her bare arms, making her hair stand up a bit. She climbed back into bed, laying on her back and staring up at the neon green, blue, and pink beads hanging from her ceiling. It was silly, she thought, childish, that she enjoyed the glowing beads so much. Since seventh grade, they had decorated her ceiling, a gift from an old friend. After twenty more minutes of watching the beads and attempting to sleep, Melanie slipped out the window to the roof. Two hours passed quickly, and before she knew it, her alarm was buzzing, calling her to the shower.
Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, Melanie grabbed a slice of ham and a leftover egg, slapping on a muffin as she hurried out the door. She took her normal half hour route to school; she had stopped taking the bus three years ago. Math didn’t start until 8:05, so Melanie had over an hour to work on her essay. The door opened, flashing a bright yellow fabric in her face.
“Hi Chloe.”
“Hey Mel.”
“Nice outfit.” Chloe was wearing a knee length, sun-yellow dress with neon blue leggings and flip flops. A floppy grey cap topped the outfit, and a large black camera hung around her neck.
“That report isn’t due for two weeks, right? You work too hard, Mel.”
“Ah, I have eight pages already. Oh, and here are the photo books you wanted.”
Chloe thanked her and ran off to the gym.
Two minutes later she rushed back in the door, panting and grabbing Melanie’s hand.
“Mel, you’ve got to come see this. Quick, come on!” Chloe dragged her all the way downstairs and through the hall until the gym door slammed. A small girl Melanie didn’t recognize stood on the stage; her powerful voice soared through the building, filling the girls’ ears with her sweet chains of melody. Mr. Colfer, the private music coach sat at the nine foot black Yamaha across from her, hands flying across the keys.
“Who is that?” Melanie asked her friend.
“Her name’s Brittaney Davis.” Chloe whispered back. “She’s a freshman, but I don’t know how she affords Colfer… Her parents are divorced and her mom works full time just to keep the two of them fed.
“Why? Shouldn’t they have child support?”
“Her dad’s not interested in seeing her or her mom, so he got off pretty easy.”
“Man… I feel for that girl,” Melanie said.
Chloe snapped several more pictures, telling Melanie she’d meet her at lunch. A few hours passed before Melanie grabbed her books and headed for English, the last period before lunch. Already ahead, she gazed out at the bright blue sky and ugly, brown weather-worn gymnasium. A flash of pink caught her eye. White blonde, petite, five foot four, blue eyed Zara Leland sat down in front of Melanie. A perfect smile blinked past Melanie to a girl on her right, two chairs back. Perfectly thin, shapely, smooth legs, small but fashionable heels, and brightly painted toes swing back and forth. Zara’s beautifully rounded chest and small waist taunted Melanie. A model since age twelve, the girl had been pampered and spoiled by most. Her bright eyes framed with bronze shadow, liner, and dark mascara, Zara knew she was gorgeous, and made sure everyone else treated her accordingly.
Chloe arrived at lunch with a horde of pictures, and Amanda, who always ate lunch with them, followed closely. The three plowed through the piles of teens sitting on chairs, tables, and even the floor to make their way back to the small library where they gathered daily. Today, Chloe told them, a surprise awaited.
“Hurry up, you guys!”
An unknown figure stood before them. It was the same girl from the gym earlier, Melanie realized. She looked very different close up. The powerful singer was now small and timid, awkwardly staring at them as though she had no idea what to say. She was just over five feet, making Melanie feel like even more of a giant than normal.
The girl’s eyes were a shocking shade of purplish-blue, almost violet. Chloe put her arm around the girl lovingly.
“This is Brittaney,” she announced. “She’s an excellent singer, and I have asked her to join our group for lunch here, permanently.” Hushed murmurs and nods of approval went around, before Chloe began showing off the pictures she’d taken earlier of Brittaney singing. Three hours later, Melanie grabbed a small, zippered black bag from her locker and set off for the gym. She quickly changed into shorts and tennis shoes, grabbing an orange ball on her way out of the locker room. Thump. Thump. Thump. She dribbled across the floor, despising the wet-socks smell and sweaty taste of the air. Swish. The basketball flew through a hoop. Melanie played for an hour before rinsing off, stuffing her smelly clothes in her backpack, and heading out.
Lark Hills was a fairly small area, and nearly everyone who lived there owned horses. Several large neighborhoods spread across the area, surrounded by trees so that the only way to get to them was by the one main road which ran through. Holbrook High School was pretty much the end of the line, and then suddenly there were no more trees.
All the rich people cut them down, Melanie thought. She was no tree-hugging, ground-kissing environmentalist, but it wasn’t right to cut down half a forest just to allow wealthier people the luxury of three acres of land they’d never use. She turned off the main road long before her neighborhood came into view, wading through the mass of trees. There were no trails in this part of the forest.
Melanie kept walking until she reached the tree. It loomed thick and tall in front of her. An expert tree climber, Melanie took off her sweatshirt and wrapped it around the brown trunk. She had hacked off any branches on he lower seven feet of the tree, making it nearly impossible to climb. Melanie shoved off the ground, swinging her sweatshirt upwards. She heaved herself upwards with it, then pushed with her feet, moving steadily towards the top. The tree house was just above her head now, thirteen feet off the ground. She slung her backpack up onto the floor, then pulled herself up. The tree house was special to Melanie. She and Kaylie had built it just before the girl died. A few of Kaylie’s things still remained in the house. They reminded Melanie of her.
Soft blue grey curtains hung in the window, a result of Kaylie’s talent with thread and needle. A small journal, locket, and flat red stone were all that remained of the girl now. Taylor, Kaylie's older brother, had given her the heart shaped stone for her last birthday before she died. Melanie fingered the cool stone lightly and pressed it to her cheek. She sat back against the wall of the tree house, stuffed her earbuds in her ears, and sat back with her book until she could no longer read the words. Exhausted, Melanie pulled a blanket out and lay down on it for a few minutes. She checked her watch quickly. Ten o' clock loomed too close for comfort. Melanie was expected home three hours ago. She started to tremble as she thought of her father's reaction. Last time she was late... Melanie shook her head, as if to toss out the memory. She didn't even want to think about it.
.