Sean Griswold's Head (17 page)

TWENTY-ONE

Dear Ms. Callahan,

My mom told me about your meeting and how you both think it's best I discontinue the counseling sessions for a while.
A while
are the words my mom used. This can mean weeks. Or months. Or forever, that's fine too. Needless to say, I think this is an excellent idea. What I mean is—I defer to your grown-up intelligence. I think we've seen how much progress I've made, and except for that last little Jac hiccup, I think our relationship has led me to true healing.

So, uh … I'm going to keep writing the PFEs if that is all right. Don't worry, I'm not getting in over my head. Or anyone else's head for that matter.

Also, I'm biking almost every day now, and that makes me feel more … like I'm me again. You'd be amazed how it has improved my focusing abilities. Actually, most of my day is spent … focusing.

I settle into a routine over the next few weeks. I go to school, where my days are filled with Sean. Sean at lunch (I've moved to the outskirts of his table), Sean at my locker (we don't share it, we aren't THAT type of couple. Not that we've ever said we're a couple. But we're way beyond labels. It's too cosmic of a connection), Sean in class (notes passed, shoulder taps, winks and nods), Sean at home (not IN my home! I'm grounded for a month. I only go to the school and YMCA. No outdoor bike rides, not that I could with the never-ending snowy weather). So it's Sean on the phone or silly Sean texts. And of course, every night, Sean rules my dreams.

I'm filled with Sean, almost to the top, almost to the brink. But even with all of Sean, all the time, there's still the void that is Jac. I stick to my new route around the school, the route that steers me away from Jac's classes. Away from seeing her with all her other friends. Sometimes I can feel her eyes on me in class, but I don't look over. Is she angry still? Upset? Let down? Or does she miss me like I miss her? I've written so many unsent e-mails, picked up the phone so many times. There is so much news to share! All the things we've talked about guy-wise I'm beginning to understand. Those long hours spent grounded should be spent analyzing Sean with her. She's part of the reason we're together. And he's part of the reason Jac and I are now apart.

Ms. Callahan succeeded in her great psychiatric experiment. I have learned to focus. I focus on everything Sean has to say and the way he says it. I focus on Miss Marietta's glazed expression, her robotic movements. I focus on Yessica's shrill voice, demanding more and more of me through each spin class. I focus on my shoes if I ever see Jac across the squad. All this focusing has made it quite practically impossible to focus on the situation at home.

Home. My new strategy started off almost by accident. I came home from school one day and literally ran into my mom in the hallway.

“Oh, hey, Mom.”

Mom shifts her laundry basket to her other hip. “How was school?”

Today at school, Sean leaned over to whisper a secret and his smell combined with the warmth of his breath almost made me delirious. “Um, good. All the teachers signed my assignment sheet. It's in my backpack if you want to check it.”

“You see? Sometimes you just need a little structure to get through a rough spot.”

“Right.”

“Everything else all right? Are you getting along with your friends?”

“Of course! Being grounded isn't exactly helping my social life—”

Mom frowns.

“But everything is the same as before,” I add. Which isn't a lie. Jac and I still aren't talking. I'm still avoiding everyone but Sean. Same old. “Well, better go get my Spanish homework done. I'm doing another spin class tonight.”

My mom breathes a sigh and smiles. She doesn't have to worry. Her daughter is normal and healthy and adjusted. I've played the part well.

It's so easy this way, I don't know why I didn't try it before. I talk to my parents. I talk with Trent. I just don't talk
about
anything. If the conversation ever veers toward more dangerous territory, toward Dad's latest medication or the big spring break plans, I shift my focus to Sean and I'm fine.

Mostly.

TWENTY-TWO

Of course, it's inevitable that Jac and I would eventually be within a few feet of each other. It happens right outside of biology. The bell's about to ring and we're both racing for the door, coming from opposite directions. We notice each other at the same time and freeze right outside the doorway.

“Go ahead,” I say.

“You,” Jac says.

“Seriously, go.”

Jac fixes me with a stare. A mean, awful, hateful stare that almost knocks me right over. I'd started to consider the idea that maybe things between us weren't completely broken, but with a look like that, any hope of future friendship seems impossible.

I can't meet her gaze, but I also don't give in and walk through the door first.

“Fine.” I get a chill as she pushes past me. “Ladies first, I guess.”

The class bulletin board hasn't changed since Christmas. Snowflakes float down on pictures of various animals. Miss Marietta's desk is a nightmare, and come to think of it, we still haven't taken the cell-components test. Whatever is up with her, it's probably bigger than a break-up.

I plunk down behind Sean and am instantly warmed by his smile. He leans in and, as usual, his presence, his very
being,
overwhelms me.

“So,” Sean says. “I need you to turn in your sponsor money for the MS 150. Or I'll cover you, no worries. And did I tell you they have a party the night before the ride—free food—and then you get to meet all these other bikers …”

I zone out, partially because it fringes on Dad territory and partially because I'm staring at Sean's lips and wondering why I haven't kissed them. The obvious answer is I've been grounded for the last month (it ends this weekend! Let there be light). But we're still together at school. There are so many hidden nooks and crannies around this campus. Why doesn't he pull me into one and finally seal the deal?

I know he likes me. He told me. When you like someone, you want to kiss them. Every minute we're together now, I wonder when that moment will come. It can't be any moment, it has to be THE moment. I don't want to kiss him just to get it over with, I want it to be roses and romance with unicorns frolicking around us in a lofty meadow. Maybe not that over-the-top. Omit the frolicking.

Sean's lips stop moving and his eyebrows are up in a question. I realize it's my turn to say something, but what if, instead, I just kissed him? I could lose the unicorns and dandelions. The back countertop is stacked with microscopes, and considering it all started in bio, the atmosphere is almost romantic. We can magnify our love, or something cheesy like that.

“Payton? Hello?”

I smile sweetly. “Hi.”

“Don't think you can get off not listening by smiling.”

“I was listening! You were saying something about that bike ride.”

“It's more than just
that
bike ride. It's for a cause. For your dad. When you ride for someone, it makes it even more meaningful. And that could be the thing that pushes you to actually finish.”

“I know. You're right.” I lean in a bit. All I feel like doing is flirting. That's what we're supposed to do, right? Not be all serious and
connected
all the time. “Hey, do you like this shirt on me?”

“I like every shirt on you.”

“Really?” I make a show of flipping my hair and I change my voice so it's more girly. “Every shirt?”

Sean laughs.

“I don't usually do purple, but I just found it in my closet—”

“You're changing the subject.”

“Only because I don't want to talk about this now.”

Sean rubs his temples.

“Are you getting another headache?” I ask, worried.

“I'm always getting a headache, subject changer.”

“Sorry.”

“Look, this is important. You know … I'm just glad Grady's not here.”

“What does Grady have to do with a bike ride?”

“Nothing. He just thinks I'm spending too much time with you. He said—never mind.”

My spine goes straight. “I'm all ears now.”

“It's nothing. He just gets worried about me. Thinks you aren't into biking, that you're kind of faking it for me.” Sean shakes his head. “I don't know what his deal is, he acts like there's some big secret with you.”

For future reference, keep all mortal secrets from members of the underworld. Why did Jac have to tell him that stuff? Knowledge is power, and the fact that Grady knows my PFE secret has not sat well since Sean and I started hanging out. He said he wouldn't tell, but can you really take a vampire at his word?

“Whatever. He's probably spending too much time in the sun.”

Sean runs his hand through his now-longer hair. “Look, the bike ride is coming up and you really need to get serious about it if you're doing it. You have to start in on sponsors and raising community awareness and—”

“You're cute when you're listing.”

“This is a big deal. You know that.”

“I'm in. You know I'm in. It'll be fun. I just don't like talking about it all the time. It reminds me of my dad—”

“That's a bad thing?”

“No, but I don't want to make it … make
him
all about his disease. And if I go around asking for sponsors, people will ask how he is and I'll have to do this brave face and … you might have noticed I don't do brave very well. So just sign me up and let's talk about something else.”

The bell rings. Sean brushes a bang away from my face. “I'm trying to help you out here.”

You ARE! Look at me. Look at you. “Yeah, well—oh!” I almost squeal, excited by the distraction. “Sub alert.”

Sean turns back around and sure enough, a middle-aged balding man in a burgundy sweater vest is eyeing the class nervously. “I'm Mr. Michino. Your sub. There was an emergency and your teacher told me to ask you which videos you haven't seen.”

A skater boy named Dexter in the second row raises his hand. “We've never seen the mating one. If there is a mating one. Not that we'd know, dude, because like I said, we haven't seen it.”

Mr. Michino shrugs. “I get the same paycheck anyway.”

“Sir?” Sean asks. I love a boy with manners.

“Yes?”

“What was the emergency?”

“Oh.” Mr. Michino fakes a look of sympathy. “They were just talking about it in the teachers' lounge. Her dad died. Guess he'd had cancer for a while.” He holds out his hands. “That's all I know.”

Everyone murmurs, things like “I didn't even know he was sick!” “That's why she looked so beat down.” “Can you imagine?” “We'll be watching videos for a month!” (Last comment from skater boy. Heart of gold, that one.) Sean keeps clenching and unclenching his jaw but says nothing. The sub turns off the lights and everyone quits talking as the snakes start getting it on.

It's fine. It doesn't affect me. It's not me—not my family. It's someone else. I don't even know her dad. It's sad, but things like that happen all the time. To other people.

But it does affect me. The fact is—that could be me. Me tomorrow, or me when I'm Miss Marietta's age. A Focus Journal or a cute boy can't protect me from something like that happening. Nothing can. The idea, the possibility, is so
real
.

A sensation grabs my chest, that feeling when your hand is asleep, except it's not my hand, it's my heart. It's not asleep, it's waking up and it aches. The sensation spreads, a tingly and excruciating numbness. Probably like the feeling my dad feels all the time.

I decide the only way to stop the numbness is to move my body. I shake my hands and pretty soon I'm shaking all over, without any extra effort. I search around the room to see if there is a corner I can hide in until I calm down.

I can't calm down.

I've been living in la-la land with Sean when people's fathers are
dying
out there. Oh my gosh, I had that entire conversation with Miss Marietta, and didn't even see what was right there. She had to live her life, come to class and teach us and the whole time she probably knew that … IT could happen. Any day. And it did.

I'm drowning. I hold my breath, counting the seconds until I surrender, knowing I can't come up for air. My lungs burn, my body aches, and I pray for time to stop ticking, the world to stop turning. Everything, everything just needs to stop. Now. Stop.

“Payton! Look at me!” I open my eyes and see nothing but Sean's face wrinkled in worry. “Breathe!”

I comply in a slow, exaggerated manner. Sean strokes my hand. The touch of his skin brings sensation back into my limbs. It's tingly and raw, but it's
feeling
. I can feel.

“Keep breathing.”

I nod and gulp in deep breaths until I find my regular rhythm and my heart stops pounding.

His eyes are intent and it's like he felt everything I did too. “It's all right. It's all right. Everything will be fine. I promise.”

I nod my head. I don't talk and neither does he. There's a little janitor in my brain, sweeping away all the unpleasant thoughts with his industrial-sized broom. It's replaced with an image of Sean's face, still gazing at me in earnest.

Sean. Sean. Sean.

Okay. I'm okay. Sean makes everything okay. Sean fills in all the cracks until I'm able to fix my attention on the video and the carefree world of mating wombats.

Everything is fine. Just breathe and watch the screen. Watch them eat, sleep, and mate. Eat, sleep, and mate.

Oh, to be a wombat.

Sean was supposed to meet Grady at his mom's house after school, but he blew it off. He was supposed to study for a history quiz, but he never did. Swim season is over, but he probably would've missed that for me too.

We ditch the rest of the day and take the SEPTA bus to a cool bike shop in an old barn. We check out gears and horns and bikes and Sean tells me everything I've ever wanted to know about triathlons. He doesn't mention anyone's dad.

And I love him for it.

PFE

March 14

After Morning Bell

There is no way to organize, chart, or compartmentalize this.

I think Sean knows.