Backwards (8 page)

He released the calendar and made sure it covered the words. That was the other strange thing — Dan didn’t act the least bit surprised that the message had changed. Then again, in his world, maybe it hadn’t changed at all.

School that morning passed in an uneasy blur. I kept thinking about the new message, and what it could mean.

The only thing I knew for sure was that things were different. Something I’d done had caused the zombie’s past to shift, if only slightly. How else could words carved into a wall transform? So maybe the messages were clues about what I should do. It would have been nice, though, if the clues could have been more specific. For all I knew, “Fear will cause what you fear” meant that my aversion to mucus would cause the zombie to pick his nose.

Things didn’t get interesting at school until after lunch, when Dan went to biology class. He sat in a different seat from the one he’d sat in the other day and stole glances at the door while pretending to draw in his notebook. At last, Cat walked in, wearing a green skirt, striped tights, and a purple long-sleeved T-shirt with black cats on it. I loved her style. While everyone else dressed like dull imitations of store mannequins, Cat wasn’t afraid to be wholly original.

She sat near the front of the room, which was also different. Once class started, Mr. Huber read names off a list and pointed to tables where students were supposed to go for their lab groups. I already knew where everyone would end up.

After students settled into their “new” seats, Mr. Huber lectured about proper dissection techniques and how lucky they were to get to work with
real
frogs tomorrow. He threatened a pop quiz on the five main systems of the body if people didn’t pay attention, but I knew he was bluffing. He’d dedicate the whole period tomorrow to slicing open frog bellies and scolding students for chucking livers and eyeballs at one another.

Dan surreptitiously watched Cat during class, but her attention stayed fixed on Finn. He sat at the table in front of her now, whispering to Kendra — the blond girl in his lab group.

The muscle on the side of Cat’s jaw flexed as she watched Kendra and Finn together. At one point, Finn turned in his seat and noticed Cat staring. He gave her a warm, welcoming smile, as if he’d been waiting all day to see her and no one else mattered. He even winked, but Cat didn’t wink back. She looked upset. Did she think Finn was flirting with Kendra?

I remembered the conversation I’d overheard in the house and how Finn would tell Cat that he didn’t feel the same way about her that she did about him. And now here he was, winking at her. No wonder she was confused.

Later, when Kendra went to sharpen her pencil, she slowed by Cat’s table. “Give it up,” she said, in a voice loud enough for half the class to hear. “He’ll never be interested in a freaky slut like you.”

Before I could see Cat’s reaction, Mr. Huber called Dan to the front to get his group’s lab assignment. He passed behind Cat on the way back. She looked pale and forlorn.
It’s not true,
I wanted to tell her.
You’re better than Kendra. You’re better than all of them.
But Dan said nothing

What if I’m supposed to help Cat win over Finn?
I wondered.
That could be the way to save her.

The thought tormented me. Finn seemed like a great guy. I could understand why Cat liked him, but how was I supposed to help them be together? Even if I could influence Dan into doing that, why would he? And why would I, since I wanted to be with her myself? It wasn’t fair. Then again, if I was too selfish or jealous to help her, something bad might happen to Cat. Like the wall said, fear of losing her could cause her to be lost.

It wasn’t until last period, during history class, that I got to see Cat again. Mrs. Pepper let Dan go to the library to work on a research project. It was my first time in the library, and the place brightened my mood. The zombie barely looked up, but the room felt airy and open — a pleasant change from the claustrophobic cinder-block classrooms.

Dan leaned over a sign-in sheet on the front desk and wrote his full name,
Dan Franklin,
followed by the time, class, and the reason for his visit. Then he checked the other names signed in, spotting
Cat Slater
a few lines above his.

She’s here!
I thought, sinking deeper into Dan. I focused on urging him to look for her.

Several tables occupied the center of the room, but Cat wasn’t working at any of them. Dan glanced at the sign-in sheet again. She’d only arrived five minutes before, and the “Time Out” column was blank, so she must still be in the library.

Dan wandered the perimeter, checking study carrels while pretending to search for a book.

“Can I help you find something?” asked Mrs. Gilbert, the librarian.

“No,” he mumbled. “I’m good.” He slid out an oversized volume wrapped in plastic and held it up for Mrs. Gilbert to see.

“Take a seat, please,” she said. “This isn’t a gym.”

Dan glanced around the library one last time and shuffled to an empty table near the exit. Smart. Cat would have to walk by him to leave. He leaned back and pretended to read the book he’d chosen.
The Heroes of D-Day.
A black-and-white photo of soldiers charging up a beach graced the cover. He thumbed through the pages, pausing at some of the pictures: young men, packed into boats, looking scared and seasick; soldiers wading through breaking waves, holding their rifles above their heads; other soldiers, crawling over corpses to get a little farther up the beach. Maybe he wanted to be like the men in the photos, risking his life for a cause, and that’s why he’d followed Cat into the house. The soldiers were nearly the same age as him. And like so many of the men in the book, he’d die an early death. Only for what?

More students filtered into the library. They huddled around the sign-in sheet, whispering and snickering. Kendra, Bella, and Laney — three popular juniors I’d seen together in a few of Dan’s classes — were among them. Dan buried his head in his book, trying to ignore them.

It was hard to ignore their whispers, though. After a few minutes, I got the sense that they were talking about Dan. He stared at a photo of a makeshift grave marker consisting of a soldier’s helmet perched on a gun, but his eyes wouldn’t focus. Every time he glanced up, people looked away.

Finally, near the end of the period, Cat emerged from the stacks. A hush descended on the room as she strode to the front desk to check out some books.
There she is,
I whispered.
Go talk to her.

Dan fidgeted and his pulse quickened. He ducked behind the book, watching as Cat leaned over the sign-in sheet. Then her face fell slack, and she dropped the clipboard. The board hit the desk with a smack that echoed through the room.

Someone stifled a laugh.

Cat hurried toward the exit, leaving her books behind.

Say something,
I urged.
This is your chance.

Cat passed Dan, not even looking at him. She was already to the door.

Come on!

“Wait,” Dan sputtered. I think he meant to whisper, only it came out much louder. Several students giggled.

Dan edged between Cat and the door. “I need to talk to you,” he said. “It’s important.”

“Don’t.” Cat bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder. More people seemed to be watching. “Don’t do this now.”

He kept blocking the door. “I just want to talk.”

“Slut!”
coughed Kendra.

Bella and Laney coughed words as well, as if it were a sick competition to see who could say
slut
the most.

Cat’s jaw trembled. I realized their insults were directed at her.

Dan reached for her. “Cat —”

“Leave me alone!” She pushed past him and hurried into the hall.

Dan seemed about to go after her when Mrs. Gilbert’s voice cut across the room. “Dan Franklin!” she called. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

He glanced back, confused.

“You need to return your book to the reshelving cart and sign out,” said Mrs. Gilbert. Then she glared at the center tables, where students were still fake-coughing. “Is something going on here?”

“No, Mrs. Gilbert,” said Bella. She cleared her throat. “It’s just allergies.”

Mrs. Gilbert nodded, satisfied that the students were quieting down. I couldn’t believe it. She
knew
— everyone knew — that Kendra and Bella and the others were taunting Cat, but no one said a word to stop it.

Sweat rolled down Dan’s sides. He put his book away and strode to the main desk to sign out. When he saw the clipboard, he froze.

Someone had changed his last name on the sign-in sheet from
Franklin
to
Frankenstein.
And they’d changed Cat’s name to
Cat-Lip.
Next to this, filling the margins of the sheet, was a crude drawing of the Frankenstein monster, complete with head wound, embracing a girl with an exaggerated scar on her lip.

People had written things around the figures like
Bride of Frankenstein
and
slut whore.
There were worse names scrawled there, but I had trouble reading them. Dan’s eyes blurred, and a nauseating mixture of anger and pain made his chest ache. It looked like everyone who’d signed in had added something cruel to the page.

He tore off the sign-in sheet and crumpled it in his hand. Several people burst out laughing, but the blood rushed so hard through Dan’s head, it was difficult to hear them. He marched to Kendra’s table.

“Frankenstein angry,” quipped Bella.

Kendra looked up, feigning innocence. “Did your girlfriend leave already? I guess she’s only interested in guys who are still on the team.”

The zombie clenched his jaw and glared at her, but what could he say? He was the reason they were taunting Cat, and the more he defended her, the worse he’d make things.

“Are you going to fight me, Frankenstein?” Kendra teased.

“Who took the sign-in sheet?” asked Mrs. Gilbert.

“I think Dan has it,” replied Kendra, the picture of politeness.

“Dan?” Mrs. Gilbert frowned at him.

He gripped the balled-up sheet in his fist and headed for the door.

“Dan Franklin!” called Mrs. Gilbert. “Get back here!”

Dan continued walking. For once, I felt just as mute as him.

Dan ended up staying for detention after school. Mrs. Gilbert asked him why he’d taken the sign-in sheet, but he refused to speak. Whatever existed between him and Cat, he wasn’t going to tell any teachers about it.

“So you’re interested in D-day?” she asked, trying a different approach. She sat across from him at one of the center tables. “Is that for a project?”

“No.”

“Personal interest, then?”

He shrugged.

Mrs. Gilbert kept folding and unfolding her hands. “Do you know what courage is?” she asked.

Doing something stupid and running like hell,
I thought, recalling the inspirational message on Dan’s calendar.

“Courage is doing what’s right even when you know it will make your life harder,” continued Mrs. Gilbert. “It’s never easy to show courage like that, but it’s better than the alternative.”

I drifted closer to Dan, intrigued. He lifted his head and met Mrs. Gilbert’s gaze.

“To paraphrase Martin Luther King Jr., the moment we stop doing what we know is right is the moment our lives begin to end.” She unfolded her hands and let them flop back so her rings thumped the table. “Do you understand?”

I thought of Dan’s body bleeding in the tub. Was there a point when he’d stopped doing what was right?

I nodded.

Dan nodded.

“Good.” She folded her hands again. “So, are you ready to tell me
why
you took the sign-in sheet?”

Dan lowered his gaze. Bits of black gunk speckled her gold rings, darkening the crevices between the tines and diamonds. “No,” he said.

“Suit yourself,” Mrs. Gilbert replied. “Detention ends at five o’clock.”

The only sound in the halls was the whir of the custodian’s vacuum when Dan got to leave. He took the long way home, driving past the apartment complex where Cat lived. Then he pulled over a few houses down and watched her window, like he’d done the other day. If anyone had seen him, they probably would have thought he was stalking Cat, but after the incident in the library, I saw his actions differently. He wanted to do something good, only he couldn’t figure out how.

Teagan was watching TV and talking on the phone when Dan got home. He went straight to his room and turned on his iPod. I hoped he’d fall asleep so I could escape for a while, but he stayed restless until dinner. Then he emerged, devoured a plate of lasagna, and retreated to his room without thanking his mom for dinner.

He got on the Internet. This time I paid attention to his searches. He looked up suicide techniques.

It’s freaky what people will post under the guise of being helpful. Dan seemed familiar with some of the sites already, so I guess he’d been toying with the idea for a while. He found what he was searching for pretty quickly. I tried to avoid looking at the pictures, since I already knew more than I cared to about the subject.