Backwards (2 page)

The scream tore through the darkness, trailing a stream of sunlight. I tried following the light out, but something kept me anchored. Looking down, I saw Dan’s body in bed. He slapped the alarm clock with a meaty hand, then scratched the stubble on his cheek. Both his wrists appeared fine now — not a scratch or bandage on them. There wasn’t even a scar where the cuts had been. That surprised me. Although his skin had a pinkish hue to it and he was breathing, in my memory he remained dead as a squirrel squished on the road.

I fought to pull away, but I was trapped inside him. Then the alarm screeched again. Dan buried his head beneath his pillow. Brilliant. You’d think that when an alarm is blaring, the sensible thing would be to turn it off and go back to sleep. Instead, he kept pulling more blankets over his head. He even grabbed a sweatshirt off the floor and bundled it across his ears. The guy was like a tortoise trying to bury himself in dirty laundry. This went on for
way
too long, until someone pounded the wall and a voice I recognized as his sister’s told him to “Wake the hell up!”

Dan fumbled blindly with the alarm’s buttons for nearly a minute before dragging his head out from under his pillow and finding the switch. Then he sat up and rubbed his eyes. I hoped he would shower, because his hair reeked of stale smoke.

I sank into him, wondering why he smelled like the wrong side of a bonfire. The deeper I got, the more I could sense what he sensed. I heard his heart thumping inside his chest and felt the weight of his body on his bones. Beneath all those physical sensations, though, whispered something else. His thoughts, maybe? There were so many whispers braided together, it sounded like a river rushing over rocks. I drifted closer until the whispers swirled around me, tugging at me, but I couldn’t discern what any one whisper said. There was just this general sense of his mood. He seemed irritated and sleepy.

I felt better keeping my distance from the whispers. With effort, I stretched my awareness far enough away so that I could almost perceive Dan from the outside. He slouched on the edge of a bed that was set against one wall of a mostly bare room. There was a desk, a dresser, and a few shelves with books and some dusty football trophies on them. Drifts of wrinkled clothes cluttered the floor. I tried to look at the few posters decorating the walls, but most of what I saw, heard, smelled, and felt continued to be directed by him — as if I were stuck in a car, and all I could do was move around a little and watch things go by while he drove. He stared at a calendar hanging on the wall beside his bed. The top part showed a photo of a gazelle jumping over a crocodile. Below this it said
COURAGE:
the ability to do something stupid and run like hell.

All the days on the calendar were blank, except for a cluster toward the end of the month that had been circled with
Thanksgiving break — visit Dad
scrawled across them. Dan reached for the calendar, and his whispering thoughts grew louder and more anxious. For a moment, I expected him to count the days until Thanksgiving break or turn the page to look at December, but then he seemed to come to a decision. He lowered his hand and turned away. The whispers gradually subsided as he shuffled down the hall toward the bathroom.

I cringed when he reached for the bathroom door. I didn’t want to see the puddles of blood, dissolving pills, and sickly pink stains on the rug again. No matter how I fought to get away from there, though, it made no difference. I couldn’t leave, and I couldn’t stop him from walking. I couldn’t even close his eyes or make him look in a different direction.

Dan pushed open the bathroom door and flicked on a light, blinking at the stark floor tiles and bright-white tub.

The bathroom wasn’t exactly clean, yet compared to the bloody mess I expected, it appeared immaculate. No blood stained the rug or tiles, and there were no pills on the floor. Even the shampoo bottles Dan had knocked over were back in place.

Dan slid off his boxers and stepped into the shower. The cold tub stung his feet, but the water soon warmed, pelting his back with hot drops. He moved mechanically, rubbing shampoo into his hair. A tangy-sweet scent of grapefruit and bubble gum filled his senses while warmth trickled down his spine. I focused on the physical sensations, marveling at how all the tiny hairs on his arm lined up as water streamed over his muscles and pooled around his toes. However I got here, it felt amazing to exist, but Dan seemed indifferent to it all. Dead to the world.

He shut off the water, toweled himself dry, and got out. Then he went about his morning business, oblivious to me riding around inside him. Without access to his thoughts, he seemed like a walking corpse. A zombie.

I watched Dan dry his hair, put gel in it, wet it again, then gel it again, until he finally gave up and doused himself with way too much cologne.

“You done plucking your nose hairs yet?” called a familiar voice through the door.

“Just a minute.”

“Come on, Dan. You’re taking forever. I need to get ready.”

He ran his fingers through his hair one last time and opened the door.

The girl who’d discovered his bleeding body in the tub stood on the other side with her hands braced on her hips. She raised her chin and jutted out her bony elbows like a hedgehog trying to appear bigger.

“All yours,” he said, avoiding her gaze.

Teagan sniffed. “It smells like a country club in here.” She nodded at the bottle of cologne by the sink. “Have you been drinking that stuff again?”

I laughed, but Dan didn’t. “Very funny,” he grumbled.

Teagan crinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue. I was beginning to like her. In spite of her heavy black eyeliner, she appeared childish and nervous. I remembered how she’d come apart when she discovered her brother’s suicide. Beneath her insults and tough posturing, I saw the opposite — a girl who cared so much it scared her.

Dan didn’t appear to notice any of this, though. He blew past Teagan and shuffled into the kitchen to pour himself a bowl of cereal.

Watching him spill cereal on the counter and dribble milk down the side of the carton repulsed me. Then the crunching. Slurping. Swallowing. The zombie seemed barely conscious of what he did. He ate out of habit, shoveling soggy bites into his mouth.

His mom bustled about the kitchen, but Dan didn’t say a word to her. She wore a starched white blouse and business slacks. Although a little on the heavy side, she was still fairly attractive, with pale-green eyes and dark hair cut in a stylish bob. She held a bagel in one hand and a sponge in the other, eating while she wiped up the mess that Dan had made on the countertop. Then she put away the cereal box and the milk he’d left out.

“Will you go to the grocery store after school?” she asked, brushing crumbs off the table in front of Dan.

He didn’t respond.

“Are you listening?”

“Yeah,” he said, sounding like she’d interrupted him in the middle of composing a symphony. “You want me to go today?”

“Yes, today,” said his mom. “We don’t have anything for dinner.” She tossed the sponge into the sink and dug through her purse, pulling out a credit card. “Here. Just get what’s on the list. Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” repeated Dan. A caveman could have been more articulate.

“You have to make sure to get angel hair pasta, not the regular kind. And don’t buy avocados if they’re not ripe.”

He took the card and set it on the counter.

His mom hesitated. Then she picked up the list and credit card and stuffed them into the front pocket of his backpack. “So you don’t forget them,” she said.

Teagan strolled into the kitchen a moment later and poured herself a cup of coffee. Their mom watched her — a mix of concern and disapproval playing across her face. “You need to eat something for breakfast,” she said.

“That cereal tastes like dog food,” replied Teagan.

“I thought you liked this cereal.”

Teagan rolled her eyes and sipped her coffee.

“At least eat something healthy at school.”

“Are maggots healthy?” asked Teagan. “Because that’s what they serve. Tricia found a maggot in her rice.”

Their mom checked her watch and cursed. “I’m late,” she said, turning to Dan. “Think you can give your sister a ride today?”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not taking Teagan,” Dan said in a quiet monotone.

“Why not?” questioned their mom, looking from Dan to Teagan. “Last time I checked, you both went to the same school.”

“He doesn’t want me to embarrass him in front of his friends,” Teagan said.

“That’s right,” Dan replied. “Stay away from my friends.”

Teagan’s jaw clenched. She tried to look angry, but from the way her shoulders dropped, I could tell that Dan’s words had hurt her. I wanted to punch him for being such a jerk. “Some of your friends are nice to me, you know,” she said.

“Like who?”

“Like Finn.”

Dan glared at his sister. “Don’t talk to Finn.”

“You can’t tell me who to talk to.”

“I mean it, Teagan.”

“Why — jealous? Afraid he’ll like me more than you?”

Dan scowled. “He probably only talked to you to make fun of you.”

Teagan slammed her coffee cup onto the counter. “You’re such a prick,” she spat, and stormed out of the room.

Their mom sighed. I sensed this wasn’t the first time fights like this had happened. “I don’t understand why you can’t be nicer to her,” she said to Dan. “She looks up to you.”

“She shouldn’t,” he said.

Their mom grabbed her purse. “Teagan, you ready? Get in the car. We’re leaving.”

On the way to school, I kept thinking about how cruel Dan had been to Teagan.
You really are a prick,
I said to him, but if he heard me, he didn’t show it. He just ground his teeth and drove, barely looking at the buildings we passed or the leaves swirling along the sidewalk in the fall breeze.

After a few minutes, he pulled into the parking lot of a building that looked like a prison — brick walls the color of bread, slit-thin windows too narrow to crawl out of, and a complete lack of landscaping. Welcome to Jefferson High.

Dan turned off his car and stared at the front entrance, where his mom had probably dropped Teagan off just minutes before. In fact, Teagan was still there, standing near the flagpole to the left of the main doors, talking to a large girl in a billowy black skirt and black T-shirt. Dan didn’t pay much attention to his sister, though. Instead, he focused on a cluster of students gathered around a bell hanging from a bright orange archway.

Most of the guys huddled by the bell wore varsity jackets and baseball caps. They laughed and punched each other’s shoulders while a few girls lingered nearby. As I watched, it became clear that they all orbited around one guy in the center. He had straight hair swept casually across his brow and a lazy smile. Whenever he talked, everyone seemed to lean in and listen. I wondered what he said to captivate people’s attention like that. Then the first bell sounded and students funneled inside.

The guy with the lazy smile caught Teagan’s eye as she turned to enter. He said something to her and she smiled back, looking happier than I’d seen her all morning. Dan dug his fingers into his thighs, seeming upset by this, but I had the opposite reaction.
Good,
I thought.
At least someone’s nice to her.

School wasn’t much fun. No one greeted Dan when he arrived, and a few people even snickered or whispered as he passed. The zombie shuffled on, ignoring them. Once he got to his first class, he tossed his backpack to the floor and slumped in the back row.

The second bell sounded and announcements were made. Then the teacher began class. After a few minutes, Dan nodded off. Asleep, he didn’t do much to distract me, so I had time to question some of the things I’d seen that morning, starting with
Why isn’t Dan dead?

For that matter, what am I doing here?
I wondered.
And who am I? And why can’t I remember anything before waking up in the tub?

More questions poured out, quick as water flowing through a crack in a dam, each one making the breach a little larger.

Am I supposed to be here? How long will this last?

The questions kept coming — a clamoring flood of unknowns. I had no answers to silence them. Nothing solid to cling to. It felt like my whole being might unravel and drown in uncertainty.

Am I crazy?

Dan snapped awake, perhaps sensing my panic.

He looked around, but no one seemed to be watching him. Then he rubbed the drool from the corners of his mouth and tapped his pen against his thumb. I focused on the sting of the plastic on his knuckle. The sharp, definitive sensation calmed me. It seemed to calm Dan as well. After a few minutes, he stopped tapping and dozed off again.

This time I narrowed my focus to one question.
Why am I here?
That seemed like a good place to start, because if I could figure out why I was here, then the answers to my other questions might fall into place.

I sorted through everything I remembered. The drops of blood turning the bathwater pink. Dan’s body going limp. His sister and mom watching, distraught, while the paramedics wheeled him out. And then this morning he looked fine, like his death had never happened. Everything was back to normal. Only it wasn’t normal, was it? Things felt off. Out of place. So maybe I was supposed to fix something. That could be the reason I was here.