Someone I Wanted to Be (22 page)

Carl Lancaster lived in Mountain View Estates in a two-story house with skylights. He lived only four blocks from Kristy and two houses down from Ray Ramirez. Anita marched straight up the walk. I said, “Are you sure Carl Lancaster lives here?”

The house had a big green lawn, flower beds, and pots of pansies that had just been planted in black dirt. There was an old-fashioned lamppost in the yard. A flag decorated with a pink rabbit hung from a flagpole. A big straw mat painted with the word
WELCOME
in green ivy leaves lay in front of the door.

Anita pushed the doorbell button, the door opened, and a lady smiled at us. She had Easter-egg-blue eyes and streaked hair that swung in a shiny curtain. She had large white teeth. She looked like a mom in an ad for dishwasher detergent.

“Hello, Anita!” she said. “Carl will be so happy to see you. Good heavens, what have you done to your nose? And, my goodness, who is this? Is this the Evelyn I’ve heard so much about?”

Anita pulled Evelyn around to face Carl’s mother. “Hello, Mrs. Lancaster. This is the famous Evelyn. And this is Leah, another friend of Carl’s.”

“Hello, Leah!” She smiled joyfully, like I’d just presented her with a golden trophy. She crouched down and tilted her head. “Evelyn, would you like a cookie?” She took Evelyn’s hand. “Girls, would you mind taking off your shoes?”

Evelyn kicked off her shoes and was led away.

“Thank you, Mrs. Lancaster!” Anita and I left our shoes on a flowered mat and walked through the cleanest living room I had ever been in.

Everything was beige or white. The carpet was thick and white. The couch had tight fat cushions and was piled with so many white pillows there was nowhere to sit. A big glass vase held two dried white flowers. A gold-framed painting of two swans floating in a bright-blue pond hung over the fireplace. There were coasters on the coffee table and a stack of large books with shiny covers — the book on top was
Flowers of the World.
A black piano with a raised lid stood in the corner.

I had walked past this house hundreds of times, stared into its windows, heard the piano playing, and never once considered that Carl Lancaster might live here.

“PTA mom. Carl’s an only child. She always wanted another. She’s lonely — Bob travels,” Anita said over her shoulder as we headed down a hallway. “I love Patty.”

We passed a blue bathroom — there were folded towels and a shell-shaped blue soap in a little dish next to a blue sink. We went up some stairs. “I’ve been here a couple times before,” Anita said over her shoulder, and rapped on a door.

“Come in.”

Carl Lancaster sat at his computer. As we walked in, he rolled his chair around so that he faced us. “Good afternoon. Greetings and salutations,” he said in his deep voice. He played it cool. No surprise at all at finding Anita Sotelo and his lab partner in his bedroom.

Anita sat on the end of his bed, crossed her legs, and said, “Shut the door.” I did and sat next to her.

“Carl,” she said. “I’m not going to bother with small-talk shit. Leah has a problem she can’t tell us about, but she needs help to fix it.” She looked at me.

“Yes. That’s the situation.”

“Can I ask a question?” he said.

“Sure.” said Anita, throwing out her hands.

“Leah, what’s going on? Why do you treat me like that?”

“Carl, we don’t have time to work out your relationship problems right now. . . .”

“No, I need to know. Leah, you know what I’m talking about.”

Anita covered her face with her hands. “OK! I’m going to the bathroom.” She scooted off the bed, banged out of the room, and left me alone with Carl Lancaster.

I knew what he was talking about.

I was sitting in Carl Lancaster’s bedroom. And Carl was sitting there with me, two feet away. There wasn’t even the possibility of invisibility. It was so weird to be in his bedroom. I felt scared and alive. I felt my aliveness in every cell.

I lifted my face and looked at him. “I’m sorry.”

He held my gaze. “Apology accepted.”

“Thanks, Carl.” I let out a huge breath and my shoulders sank a little. My throat ached.

“Now what?” he said.

“Now what?”

“Yeah, Leah. Now what?” He slowly swiveled in his chair and watched me. He was wearing a blue cotton shirt, open at the throat, the sleeves rolled halfway to his elbows. His eyes never left me.

“What do you mean, Carl?” But I knew.

“God, Leah!” He rolled around and stared at his screen saver and swallowed. He pushed himself back around to face me. He squinted and winced like it hurt to say it. “Do you like me? Or not? I would just like to clarify this. Because, Leah, I really, really . . .”

“Yes, Carl,” I said. Anita rapped on the door and opened it.

She sat back on the bed and bounced. Her eyes were bright. “Everything cool here? God, Carl, what a nice bathroom! I got the soap wet. It’s lavender scented. Smell.” She stuck her hand under my nose. “I used the lotion, too. And there’s super-soft toilet paper.”

“Cool.” My face was hot. I could feel Carl watching me.

Anita clapped. “OK, guys! Do you mind if we get back to the business at hand? I kind of love a crisis. Even though I don’t actually know what this crisis is . . . So, Carl, Leah has this problem. It involves Kristy Baker and potential harm that could come to her.” Anita raised her eyebrows and tilted her head.

“Kristy Baker,” said Carl. “Kristy Baker?” The way he said her name suggested a long, ugly history.

“Yes. Kristy Baker.” Anita pulled her hair over her shoulder and started braiding it.

“And why does Kristy Baker,” he said, as if it tasted bad to say the sounds that made up the name Kristy Baker, “and her problem involve me or you or Leah?”

“Well.” Anita crossed her legs. “Leah will explain, but she can’t really tell us much.”

There was a rhythmic knock, the door swung open, and Carl’s mom poked her blond head in. “Sorry to interrupt, kids! Can I get you anything?” We all shook our heads. She gave Carl a strained smile and backed out, leaving the door open six inches.

When we heard Mrs. Lancaster talking to Evelyn downstairs, Anita said, “Go ahead, Leah. Tell him. Explain a little.”

Explain. Explain? How could I explain? I closed my eyes and caged my face in my fingers. “I quit smoking yesterday. I feel extremely sick.”

“You quit yesterday? That’s terrific, Leah,” said Carl. “This is the worst part. You are at the most acute phase of withdrawal. In a few days, your body will have eliminated many of the toxins, and your cells will have become accustomed to the lack of nicotine. I did a science-fair project. . . .”

“OK, Carl!” said Anita. The chair squeaked as Carl slowly swiveled back and forth. “Go ahead, Leah. Just give him a little clue about why you feel responsible.”

Responsible. Responsible, responsible, responsible. I’d heard that word so many times in my life. If you say a word enough times, it loses its meaning, it just sounds like a strange noise. Was I responsible? How could I explain?

Maybe I could explain that one night Kristy and Corinne and I were at 7-Eleven, but then I’d have to explain why I was there with them, and why I was friends with them, when Kristy and I actually sort of hated each other. That was too hard to explain. We were in the store and as we came out, there was a gorgeous guy standing there. He told Kristy that she was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. How could I explain that? She’s tiny, she weighs ninety-three pounds, and she looks like she’s twelve. Kristy laughed and got in her car. I ran back to the store because we forgot to buy Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, and I’m always the one who goes back — that’s easily explained. As I went in the store, he touched my arm and gave me a matchbook. He said, “Give this to the blond girl. Tell her to call me.” But I didn’t give it to Kristy. I kept it. And I couldn’t explain why I did that. A week later, I called him. I couldn’t explain why I did that. Then he called and he started talking to a girl named Ashley. It was me. I was Ashley, but he saw Kristy in his head. Ashley was like a third girl who sort of existed and sort of didn’t. Ashley only existed when she talked to Mr. Corduroy. She was a girl with my feelings and thoughts, but she had a tiny skinny body and long blond hair, and a mother who was sick and a father, and they both loved her. She lived in a big house and had a room full of roses.

I opened my eyes. I was in Carl Lancaster’s bedroom. Everything was boyish and classy. He had a big wooden desk with a stack of drawers on either side. I looked up at a poster of the galaxy, then down at the brown carpet.

I began to feel numb. When things got really hard, I wanted to stop existing. “I need to talk to someone. . . . I need to use the same number as my old phone . . . so I can prevent something from happening. . . . Oh God, this is so humiliating.” I closed my eyes.

“I’m conversant with the feeling,” said Carl. He drew his knees up and sat cross-legged in his desk chair. Anita rubbed my back for a few seconds, then put her hands between her knees and stared at the bedspread.

“Who does this involve?” said Carl. He bit the end of a pen.

“Kristy. This guy. Me.” And Ashley. But there was no Ashley. “There’s a misunderstanding. . . .”

“OK, gotcha,” said Carl. He looked so serious and sad. “And when exactly did this incident take place?”

Anita’s hands flew out. “Just let her talk!”

“It’s not one incident. . . . It’s kind of been ongoing for a month or so. . . . OK, I’m done.”

Carl rapped a pencil against his desk. I kept my eyes on the carpet. It had been just voices and dreams that ended when I snapped my phone shut. It hadn’t seemed real. I had pretended to be a girl who didn’t exist, who had never been born. And if Carl found out what I had done, he probably would not like me anymore. And that possibility, suddenly, almost killed me.

Jeans stretched tight over a girl’s legs, one small hand held the other, a bent thumb, half-moon at the bottom of a pink nail, restlessly rubbed against the other thumb, and feet pressed together, obedient and ladylike, in navy-blue Vans. Was this me? Was I real? Was I sitting in Carl Lancaster’s bedroom? He squeaked back and forth, swiveling in his chair, and watched me with his steady eyes. Anita leaned her hard little head against mine.

Carl’s mother burst into the room with a plate full of oatmeal-raisin cookies and Evelyn in tow. “Why so serious, kids?” She’d cleaned out Evelyn’s nostrils. Mrs. Lancaster set the cookies on Carl’s desk and handed each of us a paper napkin. I looked away from her; Mrs. Lancaster would not give me cookies and a napkin if she knew the things I had done. Carl and Anita woke themselves from their thoughts and sat up.

Carl’s mother said, “Carl, this is a special treat. I don’t mean to set a precedent. Try not to get crumbs on the carpet.”

“Sure, Mom.” He pulled on the middle finger of his right hand and cracked the knuckle.

“Carl! Do you remember what Miss Lindsey told you about that? It’s an insidious habit. Come on, honey, can we cooperate?” She put her arm around Carl’s shoulders and squeezed — even his freckles whitened — and turned to Anita. “Is Evelyn allowed to watch television? I thought I’d put on a Disney movie for her, if you think it would be all right with your parents.”

Anita sat up straight and folded her hands on her knee. “I’m sure it would be fine.”

“Well, then, I will leave you kids to whatever you are doing! Schoolwork?” Mrs. Lancaster sniffed, as if checking for pot smoke, and took Evelyn’s hand. Evelyn, looking drugged with infatuation, followed her out of the room.

“Cookie?” said Carl, holding out the plate. “She’s a nice lady. I’m trying to hang on until I turn eighteen. Please shut the damn door!”

“Carl, watch the language.” Anita took two cookies and kicked the door shut. “Now, back to the business at hand. Leah destroyed her phone and she needs to buy a new one, but she only has a couple of bucks, and my dad took all my money.”

Carl made a church out of his fingers. He turned his head and stared longingly at his screen saver. “Money,” he said. “You came here for money. Gee, that’s nice, Anita.”

“Carl, I’ve only borrowed money from you twice. And I paid you back.” Anita shoved her hair behind her ears, leaned toward him, and put her hand on his knee. “Carl, yes, we need money, twenty bucks, maybe another fifteen for a phone card, nothing huge. We came here mostly for your support.”

“Hmmm,” said Carl. He turned back to the computer and ran his fingers over the keyboard. “Ho-hum. Carl the ATM.”

“We trust you, Carl. Plus, we don’t have anyone else to go to,” said Anita. She took a tiny bite of her cookie and thoughtfully chewed it. “Are these cookies vegan? Probably not.”

Carl swiveled around and faced me. “Leah, give me a straight answer. Is this really important?”

“Oh God, Carl. Yeah, but . . .”

“You’re smart. And I trust you.” He tipped up his chin. “If you say it’s important, I believe you.”

I started to sweat just like in chemistry. Carl had that effect on me. I had to close my eyes and block out Carl and his room and Anita and her weird little sister and Carl’s house and his Mary Poppins–like mother. I felt dizzy from lack of nicotine. It felt like my head was about to float away.

I sat very still for a minute and then opened my eyes. “Yeah, Carl, it’s important. I need another phone. I can’t think of any other way.”

Carl opened a desk drawer, pulled out a cash box, and unlocked it with a key. He pulled out two twenties and put the box back in the drawer just as the door swung open.

“Carl, why is the door —?”

“Let’s go,” said Carl. We all stood up. He grabbed a military jacket I’d never seen him wear before. “We’re going, Mom.”

“Where are you going?”

“We’re just going for a walk, Mom. We need a breath of fresh air.”

Anita and I slid out the door past Mrs. Lancaster. Her head swiveled as each of us went through. Up close, she was a little wrinkled and smelled like lemons.

I said, “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lancaster.”

Anita jumped down the stairs two at a time and marched into the living room. “Evelyn, it’s time to go.”

Evelyn didn’t move. She didn’t blink. She didn’t appear to be breathing. She stared at
The Jungle Book
as if she believed she could make us disappear with the power of her mind.