Send Me a Sign (31 page)

I didn’t notice my trembling until I parked my car in the empty lot at East Lake’s beach. The moments between fleeing from the third card and turning off the ignition were a blur. I had no memory of the turns or decisions that took me to this deserted location. Or if I’d answered her calls of “Wait! I’m not finished,” as I’d bolted out the door.

I stumbled out of my car and vomited on the cracked pavement. The car beeped incessantly to let me know the door was open, but I turned away. My shoes crunched on the frozen sand coating the parking lot as I crossed to the picnic tables where we used to be organized into grade school swim-lesson groups. The same one where I’d first told Gyver I was sick.

We’d had birthday parties and picnics here, back before we turned ten and it became uncool to go to East Lake’s small beach. Chris’s house was across the lake; the Jet Skis pulled up on his dock until the spring. I’d been to so many parties there.

I could see my memories on the surface of the water, rippling with the wind or when an autumn leaf gave up its hold on an oak tree and spiraled down to drift on the lake. Nights of giggles and smiles and dances and kisses. Sleepovers at Ally’s house, where she and I tiptoed downstairs so we could surprise Hil and Lauren with banana pancakes in bed. So many hours of Hil’s hairbrush dance routines, Lauren’s homemade facials and crazy beauty regimens, Ally’s mom’s brownies as we studied and watched musicals. Why hadn’t I appreciated these things when I was healthy? Why had I hidden away from them all fall?

I wouldn’t have a second chance. I cried all the time, yet I couldn’t right now. Maybe I’d used all my tears. And, really, what was I giving up at this point? There wasn’t anything left of the giggling girl I used to be. I’d killed Mia Moore the first time I’d decided to hide my illness.

I wasn’t going to beat leukemia; I was going to die. I’d been dying all along—it had just taken me this long to realize it. I expected the knowledge to burn, but I felt frozen. Defeated. I didn’t care. No, I did care—but caring wouldn’t make a difference.

I laughed; the bitterness in it ricocheted off the empty landscape. My car continued to chirp for my attention.

Blinking, I took deep breaths, retraced my steps, started the car, and drove home. I went into the house, not bothering to bring in my school bag from the backseat. I wouldn’t be doing homework; it wasn’t important anymore.

Chapter 40

My life had a time limit. It was becoming an obsession. Would my funeral be well attended? Would my name echo in the hallways and inspire tears from the classmates I was busy alienating? Would the yearbook be dedicated to the girl who hadn’t survived senior year?

I twined my fingers more tightly with Ryan’s, trying to cling to the here, the now, the present. And when it was just us, it was easy to be distracted by his hands and lips—thank God the kissing ban had been lifted. To almost forget I was a living dead girl. But right now I wasn’t going to think about anything medical.

I flipped his hand over, pulled loose my fingers, and began to trace them across the lines of his palm. “Does that tickle?”

“A little. You’ve been in a good mood lately.”

We were sitting on my bed; it was the Monday after my
psychic shake-up. I hadn’t told him. Hadn’t told anyone. I hadn’t slept much and hadn’t been able to overcome the feeling I was running a sprint while others faced a marathon. But at least I was back in the race. After the numbness of the hospital, I finally felt things again. I’d reclaimed what remained of my life and began to make decisions about how to spend it.

“I just decided it was time to do some things I want. Right now, I want you.” I pulled him back on the pillows with me. One thing I’d decided: I wasn’t going to die a virgin.

“You’re feeling okay? You’re up for it?” Ryan asked in quick words as I reached for his belt. His breath was hot against my neck as I nodded and unfastened the buckle. “And your parents?”

“At a party for my mom’s company. They won’t be home till late.” They rarely let me out of their sight, and I wasn’t going to waste this chance. But he was moving slowly, feathering kisses along my neck. I pulled my sweater over my head. “Do you have …?”

“Yeah, of course.” He removed the condom from his wallet and tucked it half in the front pocket of my jeans while unbuttoning them. Mirroring my grin, he pulled my lips back to his. I slid my hands over the warm skin of his back beneath the blue-and-yellow stripes of his rugby shirt. I wanted to bottle the feel of this moment and label it “life.”

Ryan’s hands had just traveled from my face to the clasp of my bra when Jinx decided to live up to her name. She jumped from the desk to the bed.

We rolled apart, laughing. “I didn’t even realize the cat was in here,” Ryan said.

“Me either.” I scooped her up. “I’ll be right back—I’m going to open a can of food to keep her preoccupied—ninety seconds.”

He smiled enticingly from my pillow, face flushed, hair disheveled. “One, two, three …”

I resisted the urge to shove the cat in the hall and crash back against Ryan. My bare skin prickled with goose bumps, but Ryan would warm me up soon enough. I put Jinx down in the kitchen, humming as I grabbed cat food out of the cabinet. She did her best to trip me, twining through my legs as I carried the can to the electric opener.

The motor whirred, the can spun, I turned to grab Jinx’s bowl. And screamed. The front door was opening.

I dropped the can. It landed on my toe and I yelped as wet chunks sprayed the floor and lower cabinets.

“Mia?” “Mi?” Both boys said my name simultaneously. Ryan from where he was tearing down the stairs in a panic, buttoning his jeans as he ran. Gyver from the kitchen floor; he’d knelt to take the sharp-edged can away from Jinx and dump the remaining contents in her bowl.

Ryan reached me, arms outstretched. “What’s wrong, baby? You okay?” My heart was still in my throat, blocking explanation. He turned from me with wide eyes, which darkened when he saw Gyver. Ryan stepped in front of me and tugged off his shirt.

The motion broke my panic trance. I zipped my jeans and shoved the all-but-fallen condom deep in the pocket. Tugging Ryan’s shirt over my head, I fought the urge to hide my blushing face against his back.

Gyver was calm. I wanted to go over and shake him. He had barely looked at me, barely spoken to me since that afternoon in my living room. How could he show up
now
? And how could he be so composed?

He took a rag from the sink and wiped up the spilled cat food. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. Mom wanted me to invite you for dinner. I knocked. The door was unlocked. I didn’t realize you were … busy.”

I looked between Gyver’s patient cleaning and Ryan’s restless energy. The muscles in his bare back tensed all the way down to his fists. “You’re okay?” he asked, taking deep breaths.

“Mostly. I dropped the can on my toe.” I forced my voice into a laugh. Ryan’s reaction made sense. Gyver? I prepared for his judgment.

But he didn’t seem upset. He finished wiping the floor, hung the rag on the sink, scratched Jinx, then headed for the door. A week ago he’d confessed to feeling something for me. But maybe it was
felt
now: past tense. Over.

“I’ll tell Mom you’ve got other plans. If you’re hungry later, stop over. She made lasagna and there’s plenty. Mi—tell Ryan how good it is.” I could hear him whistling through the closed door, the tune growing fainter as he walked to his house.

Ryan slid his hand down my arm and clasped mine. He tried to laugh. “Well … that was longer than ninety seconds.”

“Sorry for giving you a heart attack.”

“Let’s lock the door.”

I grumbled as we headed back into my room. “My jeans reek of cat food.”

“I know how to fix that.” His eyes were smiling again as he unbuttoned, unzipped, and tugged them off. “Let’s see that toe.” Kneeling beside the bed, he picked up my foot, caressed a hand up the back of my calf, and brushed his lips across the inside of my knee. “Does it still hurt?”

“No.” I beckoned him to me.

“Mmm. You look better in my shirt than I do.” Ryan joined me on the pillows.

“I like you better shirtless, so that works.” I felt nervous now, wanting to joke and delay. Gyver’s lack of reaction shocked me. He’d flipped at the hospital over something innocent, but us—clearly mid-something—hadn’t made him blink. It made no sense. Unless he didn’t care anymore. I bit my lip and held my breath, willing myself to ignore the ache in my chest.

Ryan’s hand stilled on my stomach and his lips left my neck. “You’re on another planet.”

“Sorry.” I crinkled my nose and sat up. Shaking my head to clear the maybes and focus on my reality—a guy I’d initially given so little credit and who exceeded my expectations daily. A guy who loved me.

Ryan groaned. “You know, this really doesn’t make me like Gyver more.”

I kissed him softly. “It’s my fault—and he did offer lasagna.
just keep picturing what would’ve happened if his mom had come instead …”

“The police chief? Okay, yeah, the moment’s pretty ruined for me too.”

“Sorry. Soon?”

“Please.” He pulled me into his arms and lay down. I nestled against him, inhaled his sunshine scent; relaxed into his fingertips rubbing my back and his warm skin against my cheek.

I woke to an empty pillow beside me and my parents’ voices in the hall.

“Kitten, are you asleep?” Mom leaned in my room and asked.

“Yes,” I mumbled.

“Did you eat, take your meds, and do your homework?”

“Yes,” I lied.

“Sweet dreams.” She kissed my cheek and felt my forehead.

But when she shut the door, I got out of bed. My restlessness had returned and sleep had fled. I didn’t have enough time and I couldn’t waste any of it.

“I don’t want to go to school today,” I told Ryan as I climbed in his car the next morning.

Ryan frowned. “Because of the girls? It’s been a week; maybe they’ve calmed down. Apologize. Talk to—”

“No.” I didn’t want to discuss it: Hil was hostile; Ally was teary-eyed polite; Lauren avoided me with obvious discomfort. At least Chris had more or less gotten over it. “Not because of them. I want you to take me to the shore, since I never made it this summer.” I reached over and turned his keys in the ignition.

“Really? You want to skip?” He gave me a disbelieving half grin. I traced his left dimple, making him smile wider and reveal its twin.

“Yes, really! Can we?” Making up for my stolen summer with a trip to the shore would be the first thing I could cross off my before list.

“Let’s do it.”

Ryan talked the whole two-hour drive. Anecdotes about the people he’d worked with, the places they’d hung out at night—clubs where the bouncers didn’t check IDs; beach houses of the week-long renters; the homes of year-rounders who were equal parts distrustful of and intrigued by the summer workers.

“Chris always threw the best parties. His mom was gone half the time, and his house is insane. If I’d known we were skipping today, I would’ve gotten him to give me the key.”

“It’s okay, we’ll only be there a few hours.”

Ryan ticked off the things he needed to show me on his fingers. “We’ve got to go to Spud McGee’s. They make these french fries—but it’s a whole potato that they cut into a long spiral, and then they serve it on a stick. And Hot
Diggity—stupid name, I know, but they’ve got the best hot dogs. I practically lived on them this summer. And there’s a smoothie place, where, if the right person’s behind the counter, they’ll pour some vodka in your cup as they take it off the blender. We’ll skip the coaster, the thing rattles like a mofo, but maybe the Ferris wheel and definitely a funnel cake.”

“You ate like that all summer?” I laughed and tugged the hem of his shirt free from his seat belt so I could slip my fingers under and onto his hard abs. “Where do you put it?”

He grinned and came to a stop at a traffic light, leaning over to press his lips to the shoulder of my sweatshirt. Well, it was one of
his
sweatshirts, but I was wearing it. “I can’t wait to show you everything. I really wished you were here this summer.”

And for the last few streets of the beachside town, I thought this was a good idea, one of the best I’d had in a while. After a week of causing nothing but fights, I was making someone happy. Making
Ryan
happy—hopefully as happy as he made me.