Ask Me (24 page)

“Well, I’m not. Everything’s fine.” I turned to go to my room. Maybe some distance would help, not that there was a lot of it to be had in our house.

“Everything is
not
fine, Aria.” She grabbed my arm and stopped me. “The police were here looking for you.

I stopped. The police? That wasn’t good. That wasn’t good at all. What if they recognized my voice from the messages I’d left? I knew I shouldn’t have taken Will’s advice. But I also knew he’d been right to want to tell the police in the first place.

“They want to ask you some questions,” she continued. “I had to tell them I didn’t know where you were. You neglected to mention to me that apparently you and this Shelley girl got in a fight the other day.”

Who told them I’d been in a fight with Shelley?

“We didn’t get in a fight,” I said. “Shelley is … was just one of the many people at school who makes my life hell on a daily basis.
Made
, I mean … Because she’s … I—damn it.” I didn’t normally swear in front of Gran, and I half expected her to stop me right there. I yanked down the collar of my dress and turned my back to her so she could see the bruise. If it had been bad enough to freak
out Will, surely it would make Gran understand. “See this? I don’t fight. I just get knocked down.”

“Aria—”

“No, Gran, I just … I just don’t want to talk about this right now, okay? I’m going to my room.” I turned away and then stopped, my back to her. “I’m sorry about Granddad,” I added and walked on.

Gran called after me, “A girl called for you, too. Said she was a friend of yours. Delilah. I left her number on your dresser. School’s closed again tomorrow, and the police want you to stop by first thing.” I waved a hand over my head to show I’d heard her but kept walking. The phone was still sitting near my bedroom door, and I pulled it inside my room with me and shut myself away from Gran.

First, I went to the mirror on my closet door and took down the dresses hanging in front of it. Since I didn’t use makeup and usually kept my hair hanging loose, I didn’t often use it. Before Will, I really hadn’t had any reason to. I hated myself a little for thinking that, but it was true. It had been a rare week where I’d looked in the mirror more than once. No one cared what I looked like except Gran and Granddad. And as far as they were concerned I was beautiful no matter what the truth was.

I swallowed, trying to remember that as I stepped close to the mirror. Gran and Granddad were better parents than most kids had around here—like Will for starters. Gran was pissed. She had a right to be. I didn’t even want to think about Granddad’s rage. But they’d get over it.

I stared at myself, trying to see if I looked different. I
felt
different. I touched my lips. Were they redder than normal? Plumper? Rosy with remembrance? Probably not.
It was likely my imagination. Then I took my damp-again dress off and turned my back to the mirror so I could try and get a good look at my shoulder. It was mostly purple. I looked like someone had beaten the hell out of me. I matched Will’s eye. We were a pair.

I twisted my arm around so I could look at my elbow. There were five smaller, circular, purple-brown bruises where Alex had grabbed me.
When he was defending me
. I shivered and tried not to think about what he must have done to Shelley. Had he used a knife again? Or just beaten her to a bloody pulp?

I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. If I had to admit it, the other reason I’d left school this morning was to escape those answers. I was bone weary with all the questions centered on death and dying. I didn’t want to know what had happened to Shelley. That would only bring more guilt. If only she had listened to me. If only I had tried harder to get her to listen.

I picked up one of my dresses from the bed and put it on. It was loose-fitting at the best of times, but I’d probably lost at least five pounds in the last week, maybe more. I put on a belt, but that only made me look like a child trying on her mother’s clothes, something I had never gotten to do. Will was right. I needed to take care of myself, or my “gift” would be the death of me. I couldn’t just keep counting the days to when it disappeared and gave me my life back. If I wanted to be with him out there in the real world, right now, I had to manage it, to control it, as Gran suggested. I couldn’t go throwing up every time someone asked a question about the always-depressing
world news or whatever local tragedy was going around. The world was full of death and evil. I had to deal with it. Somehow.

Gran’s book
—my book
—was the only hope I had. I had to keep trying. There had to be something useful in there. Why else would it have been passed down for so many years? But I wasn’t ready to venture out of my room yet. I could hear Gran puttering around in the living room moving things around. She always rearranged things when she was upset.

I sat down next to the phone on the floor and dialed Delilah’s number. One ring … two rings … three … I was about to hang up when Delilah answered.

“Hello,” she said.

It felt so strange to be calling someone up. I used to talk on the phone for hours with Jen, but that felt like a lifetime ago. Another life entirely. “It’s Aria,” I said.

“Aria!” I wasn’t sure if she sounded surprised or happy or even angry that I’d called. “Have you talked to the police yet?”

“At not to,” I said. I swallowed back the oracle gibberish and gripped the phone. “I mean, I called the anonymous tip line earlier, but I haven’t actually spoken to them in person. Gran said they want me to come in tomorrow.”

“Me, too,” said Delilah, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I heard Lucy telling an officer about something that happened between you and Shelley and Alex in art class.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” I said. “Normal Shelley stuff. You know how she is … was.”

“She was a bitch.” Delilah let out a short, nervous
laugh. “I shouldn’t say that. I shouldn’t speak about the dead that way.”

“Well, she was,” I said. I relaxed a little against the door. The conversation was going okay. It wasn’t like talking to Will, but it was okay. I was doing it. We almost sounded like any two high school girls talking, except for the topic.

“People are talking about you and Alex,” said Delilah.

“We’re not friends or anything,” I said. “He just stood up for me.” I still didn’t understand why.

“He’s pushy,” said Delilah. “You need to watch out. I mean, besides the fact he’s probably the killer.” She hesitated. I had nothing to offer in the silence. “I was going to ask you something but then remembered I shouldn’t,” she confessed.

I laughed sadly. She laughed, too.

“Thanks,” I murmured.

“I just never understood what Jade saw in him,” she went on. “He really just … I don’t know … I guess I felt like he wanted to control her. He hated that she was still seeing Will sometimes. She said he told her to stay away from Will.”

That sounded familiar. “He told me that, too,” I said. Delilah drew in a breath and was quiet for just a moment. “People are talking about you and Will, too.”

“Oh?” I said. Noncommittal.

“So.” I could imagine her leaning into the phone, anticipating juicy gossip. “Now I have to ask. Is there something going on between you two?”

“Something, not nothing, too much, too little,” I answered. I wondered if I should tell her what happened
today. I had an itch to tell someone, to make it real, but at the same time I wanted to keep it to myself and hold it close. I hadn’t had time to really examine it yet, each word, each moment, each touch. I settled for a diplomatic answer of my own. “I’m not really sure what’s going on yet. But let me ask you something. Do you think it’s too soon? He … he told me he and Jade were pretty much broken up.”

“Hm,” she said, and I held my breath for what would come next. “Well, they
were
, pretty much. It is kind of soon, though.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, deflated.

“I mean, other people who don’t know would probably think it was too soon.”

“What do you think?” I asked, suddenly anxious. For the first time I had a source of girlish wisdom other than Gran.

“I think … I think you should go for it. If you don’t, I might.”

I laughed, relieved. A little. Was she joking about the last part? I didn’t feel like I knew her well enough yet to know. “Really?” I said and then immediately thought that I shouldn’t have asked.

“Of course not!” said Delilah. “I was just kidding.” Had I offended her? But she tempered it with another little laugh. It was okay. I let out the breath I was holding.

“I’m sorry. I’m not very good at this,” I said and then wished I could take it back. Will was right. I apologized way too much.

“At what?”

“Trust,” I said. It was the oracle, but it was me, too. If I’d had control over my own voice, I would have said
“Conversation.”
Or
“Friendship.”
Or maybe even something normal-sounding, like, “
Talking on the phone.”
I’d done it all before, though. Surely I could learn to do it again.

Delilah was quiet for a moment. “It must be really hard for you,” she finally said. “I’m sorry, too.”

“For what?”

“For anything I said before … you know, before I knew.”

“It’s okay,” I said. I could hardly blame her. She hadn’t actually been that bad. I’d barely popped up on her radar screen, not like Shelley.

Delilah cleared her throat. “I am a little freaked out about tomorrow. Are you … do you think … I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t think of how to say it without asking it like a question. And I guess that’s kind of a pain for you, huh?”

“The pain only comes with the big questions,” I said.

“Oops, I guess I did it there, too.” She was quiet, and I could hear a clicking like she was tapping her nails or something.

“Go on,” I choked out.
Please don’t let her give up on me
. I needed this. “It’s not a big deal. I know it’s hard. My grandparents just kind of say things instead of asking them. That works. And you’ve already done it. But they forget all the time, too, especially my granddad. So don’t apologize.” I smiled at the irony of offering someone else the same advice Will had offered me.

“Well … um, I want to know if you think that you’ll be okay talking to the police.” Her voice went down instead of up at the end, doing her best to make it a sentence
instead of a question, but I could still feel it. Perhaps a good time to practice controlling my answer. I could feel the pull of the question inside me, but it was slight, a whisper, the flicker of a candle flame. I tried to choose my words myself.

“I think it will be hard,” I said, my voice wavering a little. I had an unsettled sensation for a moment like I hadn’t really answered the question after all, but it began to dissipate almost immediately. Maybe this could work.

“Yeah,” she said, not realizing how big this moment was, that I’d actually given my own answer for once. It had been a small question and only half of one at that, but it was something. I allowed myself another smile even though she couldn’t see me. “They’ll probably just think you’re crazy,” she added.

That wiped the smile off of my face.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” she said. “I meant—”

“I know what you mean.” I’d had the same thought myself. And what if they
did
recognize my voice from my messages? Would they discount them? Would they believe that I was telling the truth? After all, I couldn’t tell anything,
but
Will’s fear of exposing me to the police in person suddenly made more sense than ever. They’d never stop asking questions.

“What are you going to tell them?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t really know anything, I mean other than that thing with Jade being so upset and all. Do you think I should I tell them about you?”

She’d forgotten that time, not that I could blame her.
“Should, could, would, it will not matter, it will not happen, it may not happen, it could happen, it could matter, and that’s what you should do.” I said, my voice going deep. A hollow feeling settled into my bones.

“Um …” she said.

“Ignore that,” I said. “I have no idea what that meant. I guess you could tell them if you want to. What time are you going in? If you’re going before me, maybe it would even help.” Maybe if someone normal told them what I could do they’d be more likely to believe me than stick me in an insane asylum. Gran wouldn’t like it, but what else could I do? If they talked to me for any length of time, it was going to come out somehow. She had to know that. And it might be better than if they simply thought I was insane.

“I think I’m supposed to be there at ten. Hey, what should I wear? I have no idea what’s proper for a visit to the police station—oops!”

“Wear clean underwear,” I said. We both laughed. Apparently, Delilah could also bring out the playful side in my inner oracle.

She took a deep breath. “I just want this to be over,” she said, and I thought of how inseparable she and Jade had always been. Would we ever be friends like that? Could we be? I swallowed hard, nodding, even though she couldn’t see me.