Falling (11 page)

I nodded. “You want to tell me about it?”

“Not much to tell,” he said with a little shrug. “I just was … lost. Or trapped maybe? I think stuck, yeah, stuck somewhere I didn’t know.” His eyes started to glow as he recounted his dream. “Somebody else was there too. Not to hurt me, so it shouldn’t have been scary, but it was. It was a guy, I think. And he was going to let me out and I didn’t want to see his face when he came to the door. But it wasn’t really a door, it was like being trapped in the woods somehow, you know?” Linc flopped back on the bed. “No, you don’t.”

“Scoot over,” I mumbled, pulling the covers back. I hadn’t slept in his room since Mom had died. He had threatened me with death then if I told any of his friends. I was pretty sure the threat was still in effect. That he didn’t even protest meant it had to have been a really bad dream.

“G’night,” was all he said.

“Night,” I muttered, praying I could sleep without having to go back to Jordan’s fortress.

God must have been listening because I stayed somewhere in between. I could hear the crackle of the fireplace at times and Lincoln’s snoring at others but it always stayed dark.

THE LONG NIGHT SEEMED TO last forever and I groaned when I heard my alarm clock go off on the floor above me. Lincoln just kept snoring.

The swollen, dark circles under my eyes throbbed as I wandered around the house before school. Lincoln wouldn’t be going and that made me even less enthusiastic than usual. I considered skipping but knew there was no way I could get away with it so I dutifully attempted to get ready. It took me forever to even find my backpack and then I spent five minutes standing in front of the fridge with an empty brown paper sack in my hand. My dad eventually took pity on me and silently handed over some lunch money. “You have to take the truck though,” he said, proving once again his fatherly love had limits.

I considered walking but had spent too much time in the shower staring at my shampoo bottle. I was happy Lincoln was back and okay, nothing could ever change the way I felt about that. But I was beyond exhausted and my mind couldn’t keep up with all the changes. Was I crazy or not? Was Lincoln really okay? What did Jordan want, why had he done all this for me? And when was my dad leaving?

The drive to school alone with my thoughts was agonizing. I was almost happy to be around other people until I saw every head snap around as I pulled into the parking lot. The whispering started the second I got out of the truck and followed me into the school, down the hall and into homeroom. At least in my daze, I had managed to put on clean jeans and one of my nicer sweaters. It was green with a soft hood I could pull over my head in an attempt to hide. Attempt failed.

One of my brother’s friends finally worked up the nerve to come over a few minutes before first bell. “So,” he asked nervously, “how’s your brother doing?”

“Same as he was when you were over last night,” I responded, trying not to snap.

He nodded very seriously and I could tell that wasn’t the end of his questioning. “So, what happened?”

“I don’t know. I figured you got tired and left to go home.”

That tripped him up for a second but he refused to get my sarcasm. “No, I mean with your brother. Because, didn’t we like, bury him?”

“Yeah,” piped up one of the skankier girls in my class. She was always chasing after my brother and frankly I wanted to scratch her eyes out.

“We don’t know what happened. They’re investigating.”

He nodded again but still wasn’t done. “‘Cause that’s pretty weird, right?”

‘Why are you asking me?’ I wanted to scream. Instead I just said, “Uh-huh.”

“You think he knows what happened?”

“I think if he did he would have told us by now,” I grated. Most of my brother’s friend weren’t that bad for the most part. This one though, I couldn’t tell if he was really that stupid or he thought I was that stupid. Thankfully, the bell saved me from having to bite his head off.

I was lucky enough to have my first three period teachers give not a crap about their students. They didn’t care I wasn’t there the day before and they didn’t care I was in zombie mode that day. I assumed they had to somewhat care Lincoln wasn’t dead but they didn’t let on to me.

At lunch I practically ran to the truck and contemplated never leaving it again. After lunch was gym. And gym meant a whole locker room full of girls pestering me with no teachers to hurry us along or otherwise interfere. They asked the same stupid questions everyone else had already asked and again I insisted Lincoln didn’t know what had happened. I thought I would be grateful for any activity that kept the nitwits occupied but I was wrong.

“Touch football,” our teacher announced when we finally had all straggled into the gym.

“Are you kidding me?” I muttered under my breath.

“Problem, Miss Gray?” our teacher asked.

My temper and nerves were utterly frayed and I could feel myself losing it. “No, Mr. Sheffer, other than when you made us do this last year you freaked out when you couldn’t get any of us to play right and screamed you’d never bother trying to teach girls football again. I think we all had kind of hoped you would stick to it.”

Every eye in the gymnasium turned towards me. Even I was surprised. That was the most, and loudest, I had ever spoken in high school. And I never argued with teachers, even when I was right.

“Go to the principal’s office,” Mr. Sheffer thundered. But his face was red and I could tell he was as embarrassed as he was angry.

I changed slowly and made my way to the main offices, hoping I would be sent home. But Mrs. Tort intercepted me in the hallway and ushered me into her office with a sugary smile. “I hear you’re having kind of a grumpy day,” she said, pulling a sad puppy dog face.

I took a breath, forced myself not roll my eyes and said, “Yeah, not the best first day back.”

“Any reason why?”

“Hmmm, let’s see. Linc needs me at home right now but I’m stuck here with all of his idiot friends being jerks.”

“I thought the kids were pretty supportive during this whole thing,” she countered.

“Yeah,” I agreed,”to each other. He’s my brother, not theirs. They don’t even really seem to care about him; they just want to know when he’ll be back to playing sports. And of course all the girls are happy to throw themselves at him again, not because they really know him, just because he plays sports and is hot. It’s disgusting.”

Mrs. Tort gave a thin little smile and tapped her chin for a moment before answering. “Sounds like someone is jealous
.”

“Right,” I snapped, snatching my bag off the floor,”I’m totally jealous of my brother whose life has been mangled by some freak accident. I wish I had lost my memory and best friend so the jerk-off twits at this school would pretend to care about me while really just trying to cash in on the attention.”

“Miss Gray!” she exclaimed, but the door slammed shut on the rest of what she had to say and I was out the front doors of the school before she could make it to the door of her office.

I pulled on my backpack and cinched it tight as I loped across the front lawn and ran faster and faster, not caring how it looked to anyone. I had to get away.

I ended up at the beach, the only place I could think of that had water fountains. I drank until my stomach hurt then lay back in the cold sand.

What the hell was I going to do? Not fall asleep, was the first thing, I thought and sat up. I looked at the bracelets again, twisting and turning them in the sunlight, looking for a seam or any weak spot I could use to get them off. I pulled and pried them and tried to coax them up over my hand but nothing worked. Finally I just cried.

I didn’t know how to respond to Jordan or what to say to him. I still didn’t even really know how I felt. I had gone into this whole mess just thinking it was a dream my mind had created to deal with losing my brother and not only was it real, it was taking over my life.

I rubbed my eyes, thinking of all the apologies I would have to make the next day. I was never rude, not even when people totally deserved it. And Linc’s friends didn’t really deserve it. They were shallow and obnoxious but that was how they always were. I knew they really liked Linc and were happy to have him back too.

That thought slowly pulled me from my misery. Linc was back and that was all that was important. That’s what I had bargained for and that’s what I got. If Jordan seemed to have a little crush on me, it was sure to fade as soon as he really got to know me, and then maybe he’d even just take the bracelets off himself.

Slightly cheered, I brushed myself off and made my way to the tiny, downtown grocery store, reciting the list of ingredients I would need to make Linc lasagna for dinner.

“Hey,” I heard behind me, as I scoured the shelves for whole wheat noodles. The store literally had four aisles and I nearly ran into the person talking to me just turning around.

“Hey,” I replied, surprised to see the bookstore owner.

He had a box of couscous in his hand. “You dye your hair?” Jack asked.

I reached up to touch a strand. “Uh, no.”

“Didn’t think so,” he said.

“Then why did you ask?”

“You’re going over there, aren’t you?” he whispered, suddenly in my face.

I backed down the cramped aisle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m doing a school report,” I said weakly.

“Hey,” he told me, holding his hands up,”I’m not trying to be a creeper. But you have to be careful. How you look, it’s changing. And it’ll keep changing and so will other parts of you.”

That stopped me. “What are you talking about?”

He pointed to the bracelets. “I’ve seen those before. I can’t be sure but I think whoever put those on is changing you. Maybe to be more like them, to be more attractive? I don’t know.”

I could feel my nose and eyes start to get stuffy. “I can’t get them off,” I said quietly.

“You have to try harder. Why did you even put them on?”

I looked around, making sure no one was right by us, and then stepped closer. “To get my brother back.” I didn’t know if I was crying because I was scared or because I felt so much better telling someone and knowing they believed me. Or maybe because the idea I was so ugly to Jordan he had to change how I looked hurt.

Jack’s clear gray eyes lit up. “Your brother was in that accident. He was supposed to be dead.”

I nodded. “I didn’t know, I didn’t think it was real.” I rushed on,”But it doesn’t matter. I got what I wanted; I wouldn’t change having my brother back.”

Jack nodded this time. “I understand,” he said. “But it’s not going to end well.”

“How do you know so much?”I asked, knowing he wouldn’t answer me.

He just smiled and said,”Enjoy your lasagna. Whole wheat noodles are on the bottom shelf.”

“How did you know I was making lasagna?” I called.

He gave a smile before he turned out of the aisle but didn’t answer my question.

“Wait!” I yelled, chasing after him. He was stopped at the cash register and gave a very pointed look towards the clerk.

“Um,” I stalled, trying to think how to phrase my question. “Do you think anyone else will notice? My hair, I mean?” It hadn’t looked any different that morning, although I had been in such a fog it could have been purple and I might not have noticed.

“Not right away,” he said. “It’s very subtle.”

We each paid for our purchases and took off in opposite ways out of the store. I wanted to question him more but I had a feeling the only thing he was going to tell me was to stop going over there and I couldn’t do that.

My day just kept getting worse.

I WAS GREETED AT THE door by my dad when I got home. “Bixby,” he snarled,”why did I get a call from your school saying you skipped out on your last class?”

Linc was behind him in the door way making dramatic crying faces, encouraging me to lie. I ignored him and went with the truth. “I had a bad day with everyone questioning me and when I got pulled into the office, I had had enough. You know what a moron Mrs. Tort is, I couldn’t take it. So I left.”

Dad didn’t seem to know how to argue with that. Mrs. Tort had gotten on his bad side after she tried to make a home visit after the accident. “Well, you’re grounded,” he said.

“Okay,” I replied, pushing past him.

“Um, from going out.”

“That’s what I figured, Dad.” I never went out.

“And the TV,” he added.

“No problem there,” I thought.

“And books,” he shouted, finally coming up with something he could take away that was actually a punishment to me.

“I have to read four Flannery O’Connor short stories for English tomorrow. But I promise not to enjoy them,” I said, rolling my eyes safely out of his vision. I had already read them but didn’t mind reading them again for class.

I tried to get into the bathroom to see my hair for myself but Linc was hovering in the kitchen, snitching cut up veggies, grated cheese and fried sausage as I put the lasagna together. “So how was school?”