The Year of My Miraculous Reappearance (6 page)

I guess I just figured any day was a good day if it went away and got me one day closer to leaving forever.

One day, while we were waiting to go, I fell asleep in Mr. Werther's art class. I didn't think it was such a big deal, but I guess he did. He told me to wait and talk to him after class. Maybe I fell asleep again, or something close to it, because the bell rang and I remember being really surprised.

I went straight for my locker. I guess I forgot about Mr. Werther. My orange juice was almost gone, and it was only the start of third period. I was just about to toss down the last of it when I saw Mr. Werther standing there watching me. As soon as I saw him I remembered how he told me to stay after class, but it was a little too late by then.

He reached his hand out for the thermos and I gave it to him. Maybe there was a better thing to do at that point, but I couldn't think of it. My brain was working kind of slow.

He smelled it, and then took a little of the orange juice on
his finger and tasted it. I expected him to be real mad, but he had a look on his face like he felt sorry for me. I hadn't expected that, and somehow it seemed a lot worse.

The principal said, “This is pretty serious. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

I said, “No, sir.” I wasn't even sure what kind of anything he had in mind. I wasn't sure what people think you're supposed to say when they ask stuff like that.

He sighed. Then he said, “Your mother will have to come down. We'll schedule a special parental meeting to discuss this situation. And there's an automatic three-day suspension. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I said. But I only said that because I knew I was supposed to. I didn't understand. I never understood anybody when they talked. I felt like I was in a country where everybody spoke a different language. And not all of a sudden, either. I'd been feeling that way for as long as I could remember.

“Wait in the outer office. I'll write you a note to take home to her.”

I sat there swinging my legs and thinking about when I was littler, and got in trouble, which I almost always did, and how it used to make my stomach tingle. I wondered why my stomach didn't tingle anymore. I knew this wasn't good, but I didn't feel anything about it.

Mrs. Leary, who worked in the office doing attendance, took time off to drive me home.

I kept staring out the window, wondering if I should have
mentioned about my bike still being at school. I got the feeling she was looking at me, but I didn't look back.

“You know,” she said, “I've noticed that you miss a lot of afternoon classes. I try to call your mother but she's never home.”

“She's home,” I said. “She's always home. She just doesn't like to get up and answer the phone.” It felt good to run my mom down like that. I'm not sure why.

Mrs. Leary didn't say anything for a long time, but when we pulled into the driveway, she said, “Are you okay at home?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

“Anything going on that someone should know about?”

“No. I'm fine.”

“We could get you a good counselor.”

“I don't need one.”

“I think your mother and the principal will decide that. You might not end up with a choice in the matter.”

I shrugged. I was thinking, So what's new?

I hoped she'd just drop me off, but she came to the door. Mom was up, still in her robe, but up. She must've slept late, because I could tell she hadn't had much to drink yet, and I was relieved that she looked okay.

Mrs. Leary said, “Cynthia has a note to explain why she's home in the middle of the day.” Then she left us alone.

“So. Where's the note?” “I think I left it in my locker at school.” “Are you in trouble?”

“Just a little.”

“Will you bring the note hometomorrow? Right away?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

“Nothing I need to know about sooner?”

“No. No big deal.”

She didn't look completely satisfied, but she poured herself a drink and didn't bring it up again. I was kind of relieved and insulted at the same time. It was like she didn't even care enough to find out the truth. It was like she could take anything that pissed her off and just make it evaporate into thin air.

CHAPTER 5
Swimming Upside Down

That night, after it got dark, I slipped out of the house and walked over to Snake's. I figured he'd be home, because he couldn't work on our car in the dark. Maybe we could leave early. Like soon. Like before I had to deal with all the flak. I didn't know if the car was ready, but I knew it ran. I hadn't actually seen it run, but I'd been told. I was so ready to disappear, I felt like I was about to explode. And I wanted to see Bill so bad. I felt like another ten minutes would be too long to wait.

Snake's father answered the door. He was a big man with hair all bushy on the sides and missing completely on top. He had a plastic bag full of ice on his eye, and before I even said anything I could tell he was in a bad mood.

“Is Snake home?”

“No.”

“Oh. Do you know where he is?”

“No.” “Oh. Maybe when he gets back— ”

“He won't, if he's smart.”

“Oh. Okay. Bye.”

I walked as fast as I could back to the street, but the door was still open, and I thought I could feel him watching me. It felt like something cold all down my back. I tried not to run.

I had no idea Snake's dad was so scary. I guess he didn't want me to know.

I decided I'd a million times rather live with my mom than Snake's dad. I decided Snake's got it worse than me.

Halfway home I saw Snake coming right down the sidewalk at me. He had a big towel that he was holding up to his mouth and a lot of blood on his shirt. So I felt partly scared about what happened to him and partly glad to see him.

I said, “Snake. What happened?”

He said, “You want to get out of this town, you better pack.

Your ride's leaving.”

I really, really wished he could have said something friendlier to me. I needed someone to be friendly. And usually Snake was. See? This is why you should never think you've got something in somebody.

I said we should sleep first. I said, “I could slip you into my house, and we'll leave in the morning, when it's light.” When everything would seem friendlier, I was thinking. But I didn't want to say that.

Snake said, “When we're out of this town, then I'll sleep.” He went to get the car, and I went to my room to pack. It was hard to know what to take. First I wanted to take everything, like it was all me, then I got frustrated and decided nothing meant anything, anyway. Only Bill was important. I could hear Snake doing little beeps on the horn out back. I stuffed my suitcases with clothes and left everything else except my diary. The more of my old life I left behind, the better.

Mom was passed out on the couch. I snapped my fingers, but she didn't open her eyes. So I said goodbye to her. That way she could never say I left without even saying goodbye. It wasn't my fault if she was too drunk to notice. It wasn't my fault if she got to disappear first.

We were twenty miles out of town before I got Snake to show me what was under the towel. He had a big split in his lower lip, and it was all puffed up and still bleeding. I said I thought maybe he'd need stitches for that, but he shook his head. I think it's because stitches would have been expensive, but I'm not sure. He didn't much want to talk, and I didn't blame him.

After an hour or two we found a place to pull off onto a dirt road. Not much traffic. He put the seat back and closed his eyes. I couldn't figure out if he was asleep or not.

I guess that was a moment I'd been worried about. Like Snake might suddenly announce it was time to be his girlfriend for real. But he was upset, and his mouth must've hurt. I think he wanted to be left alone. In fact, he was acting like he
was
alone, like I wasn't there at all.

I could hear crickets and some yapping noises that might have been dogs or coyotes. And a car now and then on the highway. I closed my eyes and it all sounded so loud to me, and I wondered if this was how you felt if you were blind and everything else got much clearer.

I could see my mom's face behind my eyelids, and it was almost hard to believe I didn't live there with her anymore. How could so much have changed so fast? It was such a weird feeling.

I said, “Now I'm thinking my mom wasn't so bad.” I said it out loud to Snake, even though I didn't know if he was listening. He didn't say anything, and he didn't open his eyes, but I kept talking. “At least when she got mad she slapped instead of punching. Nothing on me ever got bruised up or bloody.”

I was actually starting to wish I was home. At least at home you always know what's going to happen. You know it's going to be bad, but at least you know.

I looked over at Snake and I saw he was crying a little. It made me feel terrible. I thought at least Snake knew what he was doing. Even if I didn't.

“Snake,” I said. “Please don't cry.”

He said something I couldn't understand. His lip had been swelling up, and now you couldn't even tell what he was saying. But from the way he said it, I had a feeling he was trying to say he wasn't crying. He turned his face partway away so I couldn't see.

“Everybody cries,” I said, and then he started crying a lot
harder, so it was way too late to pretend. He just sort of came apart when I said that.

I wasn't sure what to do. I did the only thing I could think of. I moved the towel away and I kissed him. Just kind of quick. Just for a second.

He made the weirdest noise. It was like a giant grunt, like a big, dangerous animal roaring out loud. It scared me. I thought, you're not supposed to make a sound like that when somebody kisses you. Are you? His hand flew up to his lip and I realized I'd hurt him.

“Oh, Snake. I'm sorry. Did I make it bleed again?”

I reached up to try to turn on the inside light of the car but he was trying to say something to me, something I couldn't make out. It was like other people trying to understand Bill. Finally I got what he was saying.

“Doesn't work.”

I guess I should have figured in an old car like this one, the light wouldn't work. I never did find out if I made his lip bleed again.

“I'm sorry, Snake.”

“It's okay,” he said, or something like that. He mumbled something that made it sound like it was okay.

I put my head down on his shoulder and I put my arms around him, like I do with Bill when he's upset. We tried to go to sleep. I was pretty scared for sleeping, though. I felt like I might never sleep again.

Then I thought about Bill, and how soon I'd see him, and that put me in a much better mood.

Snake dropped me two blocks from Nanny and Grampop's house. We agreed to meet at the gas station three blocks over when I was done, which probably wouldn't be until nearly morning.

I felt bad that Snake had to sleep in the car again, but I couldn't think of any way around that. It was about dinnertime.

I said, “I'll sneak you something if I possibly can.”

“Thank you,” he said. “That would be nice.” Then he said, “We should think where we're going. We should have a plan.”

I didn't really like the idea of a plan. I just wanted to disappear. I didn't even want to know to where. Just like those kids in Zack's story—when they climbed up in those trees, they didn't have a plan.

“Maybe we'll talk about that later,” I said.

My knees felt kind of gooey and shaky while I walked up their driveway. Mom must have called them by now. Any fool could figure I'd show up wherever Bill was, first thing. Didn't take a high school graduate to figure that out.

I'd never been a very good liar—people seemed to look right through me like I was a fishbowl or something. But I'd better get good, and fast. Bill's future was at stake. Oh yeah, and mine, too.

Nanny came to the door. Her hair wasn't perfect. It threw me off completely. I forgot what I'd planned to say first.

“Cynthia. Thank God. Your mother's been worried sick about you.”

“I'm surprised she noticed I was gone.” I meant to say something nicer and more cooperative, but that's what came out. It felt like I couldn't pass up a chance to run her down. It was like letting something out that had to get out. Something that was clawing me to death from the inside.

“Now, now. Let's not talk like that. Come in, dear. How did you get here? Do you want us to drive you home?”

“First I want to see Bill.” As soon as I said his name, I heard him in the next room, saying, “Thynnie. Thynnie.” All of a sudden my whole life felt sad, everybody's whole life. The whole world got sadder than it had been a minute ago, and I started to cry, even though I tried real hard to keep it in. “Please just let me see Bill.”

She didn't answer, so I walked past her and followed his voice. He was in a playpen in the living room, bouncing up and down because he could hear me but he couldn't get to me.

I picked him up. I felt real bad because I couldn't tell him it wasn't my idea, his going away. I guess that was the part I'd always felt worst about, that I couldn't tell him how hard I'd fought. It was such an awful thought that I hadn't really had it until just that moment.