Sia (25 page)

“
Tell her to come on in.”

“
We’ll leave you to this,” Dad says, then leads Mom out of the room.

She winks at me on the way out. I love seeing how happy they are. It lets me know that things are getting better.

Stacy’s been at it a while; her pretty brown eyes are bloodshot, and both her nose and her mascara are running. She almost trips over her own two feet as she makes her way over to me. She keeps on sobbing, blubbering about how sorry she is.

I get up and hug her. “Come on, Stace. Come and sit.”

It takes a minute before she can settle down to something near normal.

Beatriz brings her some chamomile tea. “This will relax you,
mija
.”

“
Can we have some cookies?” I whisper.

Beatriz gives me a happy nod. We both know the comfort of cookies.

“
Okay, Stacy. What’s going on?”

“
I . . . ” She pulls out a Kleenex and gives her nose a honk. “I can’t stand all the secrets anymore, Sia.”

I frown at her. “Secrets? What secrets?”

“
Between Amber and me. Remember when I dropped off that donation today and was, like, really careful that she didn’t see?”

I nod.

“
Well, someone else saw—and they told her!” She looks at me, her eyes wide. “Oh my God, Sia. She exploded. She pulled me into the bathroom and totally screamed at me. She says I’m not
allowed
to donate anything else or go anywhere near you.”

I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. “What?”

She sniffs. “I know, right?” she says quietly. “She crossed a line. You can’t just tell someone not to give to charity! So I did something.”

I lift one eyebrow as she shoves half a cookie into her mouth.

“
I stood up to her.”

This is new. “What do you mean? How?”

She takes a deep breath and exhales. “I yelled at her. Yes, I gave it right back! I told her exactly how I felt. And it was even more than that because all the other girls were there. I mean, well, it’s not like I meant to do that or anything, but they were all there when she yelled at me, so I just yelled back and they were still there, and—”

“
Go on, Stacy. Don’t worry about that. What else happened?”

“
Well, I just . . . I told her everything. Like how selfish she was, and such a prima donna, and that people didn’t like her because she was so bossy and fake and mean.” She shakes her head, and I see a grin starting to sneak out. “Oh my God. You should’ve been there. She couldn’t even talk.”

“
What did everyone else do?”

“
Nothing!” she exclaims. “It was all the cheerleaders, you know? And none of them said a word. They feel the same way. Of course, they didn’t say it
out loud
, but I could tell they all agree with me.” A smile lifts the corners of her lips. “It was, like, the coolest thing I’ve ever done.”

I smile. “Wow, Stace. How do you feel now?”

She ponders for a moment. “Really good. And lighter.” She giggles. “All of a sudden, it’s like I don’t even care about being popular.” She frowns. In a serious tone, she asks, “Though that’s probably just a temporary thing, don’t you think?”

It’s such a cute question that I have to laugh. Can’t change the world in a day, right?

“
Anyway,” she says, “I want to help you with the earthquake thing. And I want . . . ” She looks directly in my eyes. “Well, what I
need
is for you to forgive me.”

I hold her hand. “Done.”

“
Really? It’s that easy?”

“
Of course, Stace. You’re my friend. You got caught up in some stuff that wasn’t right, but you found your way out. I’d love to have you with me when we’re working on this thing, and afterward. I know Kyle and the others will be happy to have you there, too.”

She smiles and we both start giggling, partly out of relief, but also because she is experiencing something I now know firsthand from Carol and Beatriz: the great comfort of having a friend.

The next day, I take Stacy to the others, and I find I was right about them welcoming her into our little group. Well, sort of. They
are
happy for the extra help, but they watch her warily. I recognize the attitude—they’d taken the same suspicious one when I started showing with my new personality. But I back Stacy up, and if any harsh comments come her way, I’m quick to deflect. No one knows better than I do how hard it is to start fresh. Or how important it is to have support while you’re trying to do it.

It is really her dedication that wins everyone over, though. She’s serious about helping. She immediately channels her energy into finding more volunteers, starting with the cheerleaders. I can’t help being doubtful when Stacy solicits them at lunch, explaining our project with her bubbly enthusiasm. But, miracle of miracles, two pom-pom shakers take heart and sign up to help!

All I can do is stare, mystified, as the chain reaction spreads. The nerds are joining, holding little computer game tournaments and donating the winnings. Some of the band people are helping out, and the theatre club is there, too. I’m starting to realize that Kyle’s fundraiser is taking on a new form. It’s no longer just a way to raise money for the Red Cross. Now it’s become a bridge for everyone to cross. Because of the project, cheerleaders are now talking with theatre geeks. Math nerds are sharing a few laughs with football players. All the cliques and stereotypes have been temporarily shoved aside for one common good.

This phenomenal shift attracts Ken Jones, the local TV news anchor, who shows up at the end of the day. Our school principal, Mrs. Wilson, meets him and his camera crew at their van. Everyone groups around, intrigued by the cameras. Ken directs his crew to our table, and they start filming all the stacks of non-perishable food. We’d put some of it away already, but Ken asks us to bring it out again. “It’ll look better if it’s all on display for the camera,” he says. Some of the kids even take some away, then return and set it on the pile so it looks like the donations just keep on coming. We put on quite a show.

When Ken has enough background video, someone sends him my way. I grab Kyle’s arm and tug him over to stand beside me. There’s no way I should get all the attention for this. Kyle’s nervous at first, but he warms up pretty fast.

After a brief interview, during which Ken touches on the background of the project and what’s been done so far, the cameraman turns off the camera. Ken explains to Kyle that he wants him to speak directly to the camera and tell the viewers what they can do.

“
We’re just going to zoom in on you now, so don’t even think about anything going on around you.”

Kyle shoots me a pleading glance. I merely shrug, refusing to bail him out. It might be selfish, but whatever. I’m only returning the coolness he’s shown me.

Kyle clears his throat, then nods at Ken when he’s ready. “If you’d like to . . . ” He drifts a bit. I see panic in his eyes. “Can we do that again?” he asks Ken.

“
Of course.”

The process repeats itself. Kyle messes up both times; the pressure is getting to him. Finally, his dismay gets to me. I walk over and take his hand. It’s damp with sweat, and he squeezes mine before he tries again. This time, he says everything perfectly, asking the public to drop off whatever they can by Friday, at the end of the day, because we’re driving everything to ground zero on Saturday morning.

“
Good work, Kyle,” Ken says. He nods at me as well.

“
Yeah,” Kyle says. The TV crew packs up, and he turns to me. “Thanks for that.”

I shrug. “You looked like you needed a little support.”

He just nods, still avoiding my gaze. My anger returns.

“
Cheer up,” I tell him coolly. “We’re almost finished. You'll only be stuck with me a few more days. Then you'll be free.”

He sounds pained. “Sia . . . you know this hasn't been easy for me.”

“
Really? You could have fooled me.”

“
I'm doing what's best for both of us.”

I shake my head. “I don't buy that. You're just afraid.”

Now he meets my eyes. It's the first time he's really looked at me since we danced. And kissed. “Yeah, well, aren't
you
?”

“
Yes. I'm afraid about lots of things . . . but not about being with you.”

“
Sia,” he replies quietly. “I . . . ” He searches for the words. His walls seem to be shattering, and I feel hope bounce around in my stomach. But it's short-lived. All I get is a brisk, “I'll see you later.”

Then he walks away. Again.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

People don’t bother waiting until the end of the day to drop off donations. Kyle, Roberta, Tiff, Ben, and I are excused from most of our Friday classes. It was either that or have the school secretary pop into our classrooms a dozen times per hour, telling us people had come to leave money and food for the project. The TV interview really helped spread the word. When everything’s stacked, we discover we need two trucks to drive it all there. I have a stack of checks and a pile of cash, which is great because for every dollar we donate, the Red Cross can buy fresh items, like milk and produce. Still, carrying all that money makes me nervous, so I tuck it in my locker. I can grab it tomorrow morning before we set off.

In the afternoon, Stacy comes out to help me sort through boxes. One of the boxes I come across has a little note on it. As I read it, I start to laugh.

“
Stacy, look at this,” I say. “It’s from Amber.”

She takes the note and reads it. But instead of laughing, Stacy tilts her head and puckers her lips, like she’s looking at a picture of a baby bunny. “Just because they’re homeless doesn’t mean they have to get fat,’” she reads, putting a hand to her chest. “Aw, that’s so sweet!”

I frown. “What’s sweet about that?” I peek in the box. It’s loaded with canned tuna, diet sodas, and other low-carb foods.

“
Can’t you see, Sia? She’s apologizing.”

“
Really?” I chuckle. “Some apology.”

“
Oh, trust me. For Amber, this is huge. She never apologizes for anything.”

“
So this is progress?”

“
Oh yeah.”

I’m exhausted when I finally get home, but it’s a good kind of exhausted, one that can only come from working hard for a good cause. My fingers are hacked apart by paper cuts. My arms and legs have bruises from the boxes. Yet none of that can take away from the satisfaction I feel.

In spite of being overtired, I can’t sleep. I lie in bed for hours, thinking about everything. What awaits us at ground zero? Who will we meet? I have no answers, and that’s not helping my stress. I try to relax by focusing on the positive aspects of my life. For starters, it’s great to have Stacy back as a friend. And, like she says, at least Amber’s making an effort, even though she still won’t approach me. Stacy says Amber was standing in the background during the TV interview, watching. She’d told Stacy afterwards that I did well, but needed a different outfit.

I’m getting along well with the other kids, too. Kyle’s friends have completely—finally—accepted me. Unfortunately, neither Roberta nor Tiff can offer me any insight on Kyle. I asked them about his feelings for me, but they were equally stumped.

“
I thought he was flipped out on you,” Roberta said. “Now he won’t even talk about you unless he’s talking about the project.”

“
Sorry,” Tiff said on his behalf. “But you have to understand. Kyle’s great, but he’s still just a guy. They just don’t get the concept of sensitivity, you know?”

Don’t get me wrong. I do understand his fear. I know he’s afraid I’ll forget about him when my memory returns, that I’ll toss him aside for Duke or some other jerk, and I guess I can’t blame him. Nobody knows where this amnesia came from or what it’ll eventually do. When I woke up that day, I remembered nothing.

What if the reverse happens the same way and I wake up remembering nothing again?

Which way will I go?

How will I end up as a person?

What if I have to relearn all the same lessons?

Like I said, I can’t blame him. But I also can’t say it doesn’t crush me. He and I have come a long way, from his yelling at me in the soup kitchen to that special moment at the
Vanity Fair
party.

A tear slides down my cheek, and I don’t bother to wipe it away. I’m entitled to tears, I figure. Carol had said that if I cry, it’s because I need to cry—and I
do
. Despite the strong front I've been putting up, my heart is in so much pain. Every time I catch Kyle’s eye, he looks away as if he might catch the flu.

Eventually I fall asleep, but before I know it, my alarm is ringing. Even though today is going to be hectic, I'm anxious to get started. The plan is to meet at the school at seven a.m. to fill the trucks. We’ll have two trucks going, one rental and one borrowed from the bakery. We’ll leave the school at nine a.m. because it’s a long eight-hour drive to ground zero.