Incomplete

I knew Mari was different the first time I saw her eyes. She glared at me with those cold, dark eyes and the sight sent chills down my spine. Regardless, she intriuged me. I felt a strange desire to know her. I wanted more than anything in the world to hear her story. She was the new kid at high school my junior year. There was an aura of melancholy surrounding her that seemed to belittle any sense of happiness one could have felt. She hid her face behind her sleek black hair, gently tucking the strands behind her ears only when it was necessary to see clearly what was before her. She never smiled. At least, not from the bottom of her heart. As I look back now, blowing the dust off the old ' 87 yearbook, her weak grin in the picture was painfully forced. Mari seldom spoke voluntarily, but when she did, she was anything but subtle. Her voice was bitter, and you could almost always count on getting sarcastic or painstakingly truthful and blunt remarks rolling off her tongue faster than it took to comprehend what she was saying. Come to think of it, I don't believe she honestly knew what tact was. As foreboding as she was, she seemed to love school, taking a particular liking to American History. I was fortunate enough to be in the same history class as she, seventh period, the last class of the day. In fact, it was in history class that I first really got to know her. The first major project we ever had to do in the class was a timeline of the battles and events of the Civil War. Considering it was a tedious task, we were assigned partners. I was assigned partner to none other than Mari. That day in class, she approached me with a solemn look on her face. "Is after school at your house a good time to work on the history project?" she asked me monotonously. I nodded with a false sense of cheer and waited anxiously for the bell to ring. The loud blare of the school bell sounded, releasing us to the world outside the dull grey classroom walls. I caught Mari's pace and directed her towards my home. We walked in awkward silence for three blocks until I cleared my throat and announced, "Here it is." I stopped at an ordinary, two-story, red brick home. She continued to the front porch and walked in as if she owned the place, the blank expression on her face never faltering. I ran behind her and called through the hall, "Hey ma! I'm home! And I brought a friend over. We have a history project to work on so we'll be in my room, ok?" I pounded up the stairs hurridly and dashed into my room without waiting for reply from my mother. Mari followed me soon thereafter and sat down cautiously on my shaggy bedroom carpet. I opened my history book as she did the same. We worked diligently, silently, on that crude cardboard paper/magic marker timeline for nearly three hours. After the sun had long since began to set, Mari closed her book, got her belongings together, and readied herself to leave. I stopped her just before she stepped foot out my door. "Can I have your number? You know, just in case I need to reach you for the project or something?" She hesitated, then spoke in a cracked voice, "7106," and with that, she disappeared from my sight. I breathed a short sigh of releif mixed with triumph. "One step closer," I whispered to no one in particular, not even entirely sure myself what I was talking about. The next morning I awoke with a great eagerness. I wanted to see Mari again. I rushed into my clothes and out the door, waving goodbye hastily to my mother and little sister. The first six hours in school dragged on at a snail's pace until seventh hour finally came. Directly after Ms. Smitt ordered us to get with our partners and continue the project, Mari and I sat at two desks in a shadowed corner of the room, working again, silently, on the petty history project. I looked up from the timeline once or twice to see her hands skillfully flipping the pages of the textbook and scanning the words until her amber eyes found just what she was searching for, then the same, skilled, bony hands scrawling the words out onto the project. The seconds ticked away to minutes ticking away to the end of the class. "We're almost done. It should only require one more afternoon at my place. Is that okay with you?" I asked her, carefully picking and choosing the words I used. She glared at me and rasped, "Whatever." Before I had time to reply, the bell rang and Mari slipped into the crowd of robotical teenagers, living their lives in doleful routine. I met her at her locker just as she was slamming it shut and replacing the lock. Wordlessly, we once again tread the path to my home. As we entered, I again called a short welcome to my mother and pounded up the stairs to my room. I flopped onto my bed and Mari assumed her position on my floor. We finished the project quickly, wordlessly. I could muster no courage to say anything to her before she left. For a long while after she had slipped from my sight, I laid on my bed and thought about her. I can't honestly say what compelled my thoughts in her direction, but it was some time before I noticed the rusty-hinged notebook that belonged to Mari lying on the carpet. I slid off my bed and laid beside the notebook. I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. I could still feel her body heat on the floor from where she had been lying. I could still smell the faint aroma of her tangy perfume. I finally turned on my side and realized that the notebook she had left here needed to be returned. I shrugged, hardly thinking a thing of it, and dialed her number on my bright green telephone. The phone rang twice before Mari answered, not in the same dull tone she usually held, but in a smaller, seemingly weaker voice, "Hello?1

"Uh... Mari? It's, uh, Luke, from History.  You left your notebook at my house, and I was wondering if you wanted me to come over to give it to you.  I mean, if there's anything import-"2

Mari cut me off mid-sentence with a stern, "No.  It's not that important.  I'll pick it up tomorrow at school."3

I frowned.  "Ok, if you say so."4

"Which I do," she snapped back, "so see ya then."  5

"Wait... Mari."6

"Yea?"7

"Are you ok?"8

She hesitated a moment.  "... Why do you care?"9

"I just do.  If you ever-"  I was interrupted this time by the sound of a door clattering against a wall.10

"I gotta go," she said hastily, and slammed the phone down on the reciever.  Except, she didn't quite hit the reciever right, I guess.  I could still hear her in the background.  Though it was nosy of me, I listened intently, curious.  The door slam was followed by a deep, obviously male, voice.  The man's words were boisterous and loud, but so slurred I couldn't fully understand what he was saying.  Whatever he was saying, it sure as hell wasn't nice.  A shriek pierced the air.  I didn't exactly know what was going on, but I could tell it wasn't anything remotely close to positive.  Glass shattering, pounds on the wall, and finally all I could hear was my breath drowning and my heart racing.  I should have known her home wasn't stable.  I should have known she wasn't okay.  I let the phone drop onto the hook.  Thinking in haste, nothing came to my mind.  I mean, Mari had never told me her address.  How could I get there in time to save her?  What if I couldn't do anything anyway?  I picked up the phone and dialed 911 instinctively.11

"911," drawled the answerer blandly.12

"I have an emergency.  Uh, I think there's something really wrong at my friend's house.  Her name is Mari Johnson, but she never told me her address or anything, but she lives right here in New Hillston...  Just please, can... Oh, God, just do something!  There's something really wrong..."13

My knees buckled and the phone slipped out of my hand.  This was real.  Really,  really real.  I don't really know why I was so scared, though I suppose I had every right to be.  I looked around nervously and began flipping through her notebook.  The inside of the front cover had her address in it.  I can't believe I hadn't checked there before!  I pulled the phone back up to my face, but the operator had hung up.  Run, I had to run, just run.  So I ran.  Busted through the door.  I ran on, and on, and on; breath wasn't14