Forget Me Not (14 page)

or else he’s decided I’m not

worth the trouble.

Either way, I’m relieved

when I don’t see him following me.

As soon as I step into the waiting room,

I feel a crushing heaviness

pressing down on me.

I see my father sitting in silence.

His laptop is closed.

His pens put away.

His phone turned off.

“Ally, please don’t go,” he whispers.

“You’re everything I’ve got.”

Nana walks into the waiting room.

“Did you find Alice?”

He nods

and I experience such a sense of relief

that my heart could burst.

The weight of the room

lifts slightly,

and I feel that I can bear it,

bear anything,

as long as Mom is coming

back for me.

Dad has been looking for my mother.

That’s what he’s been doing all this time

when I thought he’d just been trying

to get in a few hours’ work.

He finally gets it.

He understands

that I need to be

with my mother.

Thank you, Dad.

Thank you.

If I could go and live with Mom,

I could start over and forget

about the past few months.

I could clean the slate and

reinvent myself

in a brand-new place.

“When will she get here?” Nana asks.

“She’s not coming,” Dad replies,

and the room becomes as cold as ice.

“Did you tell her Ally might die?”

I hold my breath.

He nods his head.

And then he does something

I’ve never seen him do.

He cries.

“She made such a scene when she left,” he says.

“And Ally has hated me ever since.

She never intended to take her, but she told her

to start packing. Why would she do that?”

Nana says,

“She was acting.”

First my hands,

then my arms,

then my feet.

Turning into mist

as thin as air.

I can’t stay here one minute more.

There’s not a single place for me.

Not at school.

Not at home.

Not in New York City.

There’s only one place

where I belong.

I guess I’ve known that

all along.

The hallway.

and says,

“Don’t go

back to that place.”

Now it’s my heart

vanishing into nothingness.

All the pain is gone

and the call

of the hallway

is inviting.

He says, “The pain won’t last,

but death is
forever
.

Walk through the pain, Ally.

Don’t turn away.”

“You’re wrong, Elijah.

Death is
never

having to face

the truth.”

The sooner I’m gone,

the sooner everybody can

move on.

And I feel the emptiness

in my mouth

and in my brain.

I’m back

on the hall,

where I’m safe

and nothing hurts.

Where I’m not destined

to be a person with brain damage

or a disappointment to the people I love.

The Hangman is sitting on the tiled bench,

waiting patiently for my return.

“I warned you,” he says.

“It’s a cruel world out there.”

“I know,” I tell him.

“If you go back, the best that world

can offer you is a life like Oscar’s.”

He’s making it up.

I’m pretty sure he can’t tell the future.

And I could argue that I might

turn out like Elijah,

but is he really happy?

Is anyone?

“Besides,” he continues,

“if you return to your

old life, it might be worse than before.

If you jumped off another building,

or put a gun to your head,

or slit your wrists,

you might not make it back here.

Let’s face it, you didn’t exactly

complete the job the first time.

This is a very special place.

A lot of people try to come here

but botch the job.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t be

going out there again.”

“That’s good.

It’s better for everyone that way.”

Remember

when you

steal the pills,

turn on the gas,

sharpen the blade.

Consider

as you walk

that line,

you think that

you’ve

made up

your mind.

When you set

your pen

on the page

and tell the world

your last

good-bye.

Then place the gun

against your head

or take the plunge

or slip the knot.

Remember this

before you shoot

before you leap

before you drive.

You’re gonna make

a mess of things

a wreck of things

you’ll break some hearts.

You’ll definitely

destroy some lives.

But there’s no

guarantee

you will die.

I remember

when I was six years old and my mother left my father

for the first time. She threw our clothes in a laundry basket,

put the foldout couch in a U-Haul trailer, and we drove

away, watching him standing alone in the driveway.

I remember

Mom telling me that as soon as she saved enough money,

she was quitting her job and we were moving to California.

She said I looked just like a little Scarlett Johansson,

and maybe when Mom got in the movies, I could

get in the movies too.

I remember

my mother had a hard time making it to work in the mornings

and we lost the electricity because she couldn’t pay the bills.

We ate mac and cheese every night because it was cheap,

but she always seemed to have money for booze.

I remember

the night we got kicked out of our apartment and we went

back home to Dad because we didn’t have anyplace else

to go. I remember the look of relief in my father’s eyes

and the look of defeat in my mother’s.

I remember

her saying she was sorry,

but she didn’t sound sorry.

I remember

Dad saying it was okay,

but he didn’t sound okay.

I don’t remember

anyone mentioning

love.

The Hangman says

if I stay here

long enough,

I won’t remember

anything at all.

I remember the night I almost died.

I went out to the old football field

looking down on the new stadium,

because it was the last place

I remembered being happy.

My brother, Frankie,

used to take me up there

to watch the football games so

we wouldn’t have to pay

the admission fee.

Just him and me.

Drinking hot chocolate

and listening to the tunes

of The Fray

coming from the CD player

in his Camaro,

which he drove right up

onto the old field

so if we got cold,

we’d have a warm place to go.

Even when he started dating Pam,

he still reserved Friday nights for

football with his little bro.

Just him and me.

When I went up there

on the hill that night,

with the bottle of pills,

my boom box,

and Frankie’s CD,

all I really wanted

was another chance to be

with him.

Just him and me

and eternity.

So I fell asleep to the tune of

“How to Save a Life.”

But when I opened my eyes,

there was still only me.

walking by wearing a rebel uniform.

He was barefoot and his head was bleeding.

“How did you get here?” he asked me.

“I took a bottle of pills.”

“Then you need to go to the hallway.”

He pointed at the Humanities Building

as his friends set up cannons

and sharpened their daggers.

I ran all the way to the quad and up the stairs,

hoping to find Frankie, but he wasn’t there.

Frank, I wasn’t jealous when you said

you’d fallen for a girl whose name was Pam,

even though it complicated plans

we’d been making all our lives. You said

if you went to State, then you could live

at home and I wouldn’t be alone

with Mom and Dad and nothing but the booze

to buffer all their unpredictable moods.

I’d watch Pam kiss you, watch how you would

stare into each other’s eyes and then

she’d touch your skin like it was made of gold.

I never had a moment of envy

because I hoped there would come a day

when a girl I loved looked at me that way.

Please tell me, big bro, what am I to do,

give all my heart to love? What happens if

Ally laughs at me or calls me “freak”?

It’s happened in the past. You know it’s true.

Besides, I’ve seen the way she looks at him.

Davis Connor is the one she wants.

He treats her like a puppy on a leash,

but she just keeps on licking at his feet.

I heard the rumors going round the school.

I’ve seen the pictures, but I pressed delete.

I know she’s been with Will, but I don’t care.

Does that make me some kind of puppy too?

And if by some miracle, she loved me back,

could it work out, or would I end up like you?

When the next bell rings

I see Megan walk out onto the quad

and stand by the grass, expectant,

waiting for someone.

Darla Johnson comes out

of the gym and Megan

waves eagerly.

Darla turns and goes

in the other direction.

Megan won’t take the hint

and hurries up behind her.

I see Darla mouth the words

Go away.

There’s a look of

panic in Megan’s eyes.

She’s been kicked

out of the club and

she doesn’t know why.

There’s also the knowledge

that Darla could destroy

her. Darla seems to read

her mind, or maybe it’s just

a general observation she’s

making when she says,

You’re not worth the trouble.

Megan sits on a bench

out on the quad and cries.

She’s completely alone.

It serves her right.

I feel vindicated

for about two seconds.

Then I just feel bad for her.

For some reason I think about

the fact that she and Bri

were best friends

in second grade.

Then I remember

the tryouts for
Grease
in sixth.

Megan went out for the lead.

She’d never been in a single play

in her life, but she had the most beautiful

singing voice I’d ever heard. I was so afraid

she’d get the part of Sandy that I couldn’t sleep for two days.

But I came up with a solution.

One afternoon after drama class,

I was helping Ms. Smythe put away props

when I told her,

“You should give the lead to Megan.”

Ms. Smythe looked at me in surprise.

“Why is that?”

“Because her mother is dying.

It might help cheer Megan up.”

“I see,” said Ms. Smythe, looking grave.

“But I’d hate to add to the pressure

she must be under.”

The next day when the roles were posted,

I got the part of Sandy, and Megan got

the part of one of the Pink Ladies.

Megan’s mother died a month later,

and she missed all the dress rehearsals.

I’d done the right thing by telling

Ms. Smythe about her mother. I really had.

But for all the wrong reasons.

On opening night

I started crying uncontrollably

in the dressing room.

Brianna was the stage manager,

but she didn’t know what to say

to console me.

I couldn’t tell her what I’d done,

or she would hate me forever,

so I asked her to call my mother

out of the audience.

After Mom shut the door,

I confessed everything.

I knew she was the one person

who would understand.

She wrapped me in her arms

and I remember she smelled

like lilacs.

“You did that poor girl a favor,”

she told me.

“Now use that emotion.

Don’t let it go to waste.

Get out there and sing your heart out.

Do it for Megan.”

Mom always knew just what to say.

I instantly felt better,

and when I went out on the stage,

I gave the performance

of a lifetime.

As for Megan,

she barely remembered

her lines,

and she never tried out

for another school play.

what kind of girl

I really was.

The kind who would step

on her friends to get to the top.

The kind who would sleep

with a guy just because

she wanted to feel desired.

The kind