Sun Poisoned (The Sunshine Series) (22 page)

There’s a
girl’s suit jacket hanging on the back of the door with a note in Manny’s chicken scratch that says, “For Pinky”. I technically don’t have to wear it for sound check, but I throw it on. It covers the bandage on my chest so no one will question it and I don’t have to think about it.

It’s around seven when Mann
y meets me behind the curtain.

“
Hey,” he addresses me, as well as the rest of the band when they hop up on stage. Everyone else is already wearing jackets identical to mine.

“
You look good, Pinky,” Manny says.

I try to crack a smile, but I just stare down at my clothes when that fails.
“Thanks.”

The rest of Honus is busy with their own conversations, so I guess Manny sees it as a
n opportunity to chat with me. I was worried he’d be asking me how my heart was, but instead he asks, “Did you get a kazoo?”

I reach in my back pocket and produce the yellow plastic I found inside the suit.

“Good,” he says.

“
When do we use these?” I’m not exactly worried, but it would still be nice to know when the theatrics are going on so I don’t mess everything up.

“
Oh don’t worry.” Manny smiles. “You’ll know.” Then he switches topics. “You don’t have any face paint on yet.”

I glance around at the other band members.
“No one else has any on.”

“
Well, yeah. We should do that.”

So after tuning the instruments on stage, telling the sound guys up, down, louder, or softer, Peebs produces a black plastic bag which he dumps the contents of between us.

There are about ten metal tins of various colors: black, white, green, yellow, and blue.

“
Clown paint?” I ask, genuinely in awe of how someone can find it in June.

All of them kneel down and start picking up the hues they want. I
do the same and get my hands on a black tin.

“
Psh,” the sound comes from Peebs, who’s opening the yellow.

Ewok rolls his eyes before smearing blue paint into the tips of his long, scraggly beard.

“
Stage paint
,” Manny corrects, though I can tell by the tone of his voice that he’s called it clown makeup more than on one occasion and been corrected the same way.

“
How did you get it?” I observe them all dipping their fingers into the thick goo and spreading it over their faces in different patterns. They don’t use mirrors; they’ve probably done this lots of times before.

Manny joins them, dr
awing red lines on his cheeks.

“
We pick it up in bulk after Halloween, then we ration it until we get our next chance.”

He opens the white tin next, spreading the paint in two lines under his eyes like a football player.

“So why are we wearing paint if we’re covering it up with masks?” I ask.

“
Psh,” from Peebs again.

“
We only wear the masks during our entrance,” Manny explains.

“
Yeah,” Peebs butts in. “It took us one show to realize that we couldn’t play through the whole thing with the masks on.”

“
That’s ‘cause you pussied out,”  Bear says, adjusting his white sweatband in his thick curls so he can spread more paint on his forehead..           

“
More like
passed out
,” from Skinny.

“
You need help?” Manny asks, turning to me.

The rest of the band glances at me and I realize that I’m the only one without face paint on.

“I guess.” I shrug. “I’ve never done this before.”

That, and I’ve become slightly aware of a twinge in my chest again and it’s making it hard for me to concentrate. It isn’t painful, not quite. Just there. I take a deep breath and try to forget it. The only reason I can think of as to why I’m feeling it now is because Myles is probably somewhere in the building. I must dwell on this for no longer than five seconds, but God, is it a long five seconds.

I’m not sure to be thankful or uncomfortable when Manny begins to spread the paint on my face himself.

I hadn’t noticed that I closed my eyes to ignore the sensation in my chest, but when they shoot open, ready to ask Manny what he thinks he’s doing, he’s smiling innocently and concentrating on drawing a line of cool black paint on my left cheek.

“I think you look like a warrior type,” Manny comments, taking the paint across my nose and other cheek. I think he’s done, but he takes more paint and draws a line right on top of the scar from the breathing tube, which is peeking out from my jacket. It’s strange, having him touch me there with only this small layer of makeup between our skin, but it’s not as personal as if he were to touch a different scar.

“
You need a warrior story,” Manny says, switching to white now. “This,” he says, “is where your power comes from.” He dots three blobs of white paint above the scar on my throat.

I allow a small smile, closing my eyes again as he dots freckles onto my cheeks.

I want him to go on with the story. To tell me that I am a warrior and cannot be defeated, as long as I have my voice, but he stops touching me and says, “All done.”

The hour between composing ourselves and eight o’clock is s
hort, and before long, we’re on stage again. This time, there’s an audience cheering through the velvet curtain.

“
Here,” Manny says as he hands me a furry gorilla mask. “Pancakes after?”

Once the elastic is wrapped around the back of my head, I nod.
“Sure.” My voice is muffled by the mask.

Jamie is already on stage introducing us. I assumed that I was asked to play with
Honus because Manny wanted to run around stage rather than be tethered to the piano for one night, but Jamie makes it clear that they wanted everyone to know who was joining them.

“
Ladies and Gentlemen,” I hear his disembodied voice say. The microphone coated sound bounces off of the stone walls in between people’s conversations and excited cheers. “Honus, with special guest, Sophie Jean of An Anachronism!”

They cheer at the normal freak out level when they hear the band’s name, but it raises a whole octave when Jamie announces mine. For the first time, I realize the fans are excited that I’m playing tonight too.

Instead of being nervous, this notion makes me incredibly excited, letting me slip out of my problems with Myles as I step out from behind the curtain and follow the rest of Honus. The mask over my newly painted face smells like a combination of rubber and plastic when I sit down at the piano strung with red Christmas lights.

The drums roll on when Skinny takes his seat, egging the crowd into louder applause. It’s already hot on stage, and I can’t wait to get even sweatier when we start. Hopefully by the end I’ll be just a puddle on the bench, nothing more.

I follow the band’s cue, ripping off my mask with the rest of them.  

I look around at the audience as I wait for Manny’s signal
to begin playing. I see Boo and Trei’s faces peeking out between strangers and I smile at them. Then a few feet to the left, up even closer to the stage, are Stevie, Laura, and my brother. They wave when they see me notice them, and I wave back.

What I don’t want to do is pay attention to the tingling in my chest, but it’s pretty hard to ignore. It’s like my lungs and heart are being pulled in a certain direction. I know where my body wants my eyes to look, and before I can stop it, they’re on him.

Myles is standing over the balcony, his white hands gripping onto the shiny, gold railing. His eyes are directly on mine, but his mouth doesn’t move. His expression isn’t happy. I’m glad to see that at least we’re both somewhat miserable.

Then a final rush of screams and applause flood
s the stone room as the lights go dim again.

We start with the first song as I make it my mission to ignore Myles for the rest of the night. It’s my goal to get through the entire show without acknowledging the ache in my chest or my sadness. I’m going to have fun, or at least look a hell of a lot like it.

We go through the entire set list. The alien songs, the werewolf ballad—all of the things we practiced for weeks coupled with cues of when to bust out the kazoos or confetti or back up on vocals. A lot of things are improvised on the spot, but it goes smoothly.

And then we’re done.

It’s only when I’m walking off stage that I see Myles still standing in the same spot, his hands clamped around the railing, his expression tense.

The curtain closes and I follow Honus back to the dressing room successfully without thinking about the emotion I saw there.

Peebs throws a white towel at me and I sponge the sweat off of my face and chest. White and black paint is stuck to the fabric when I pull it away.

I grab a water bottle. A package of them appeared on the counter while we were playing.

Boo and Trei enter next, almost as sweaty as I am in their black Honus T-shirts and shorts.

“
You guys were awesome!” Boo says, closing in for a hug.

I don’t want to exchange sweat with him, but I throw an arm over his shoulder anyway.

“Thanks, guys.” My voice is hoarse and my chest aches more than it had before, though I don’t know if it’s because of Myles being so close or singing and screaming during our set.

“
You guys want to get pancakes with us in about an hour?” Manny asks them.

“
That sounds like fun,” Trei says. “You should tell Myles to join us,” she directs at me. “We didn’t see him all night.”

Of course they would know he was there, being my boyfr
iend and wanting to support me. “Okay, I’ll go find him.” I don’t know why I say it.

But I can’t back out of walking into the emptying venue now.

I reason with myself. I don’t have to say anything to Myles. Hell, I don’t even have to acknowledge his existence. I’ll just find Stevie, Jade, and Laura and invite them instead. If Boo and Trei want Myles there, they can invite him themselves.

I find my brother by the merch table, which has a crowd around it, but it’s quickly thinning. A girl with red dreadlocks and a septum ring is talking to Jade from inside the booth; something about what shirts will be available on tour in a few weeks.

Jade turns when he sees me and encloses me in a huge hug, even for my brother. “There you are” he says. “We’ve been looking for you.”

“
Sorry,” I say over the people talking in line, indicating my sweaty  skin. “Had to clean up a little.” I start looking around for Laura and Stevie. “You guys want to come get pancakes with us?”

Jade checks his phone.
“At two AM?” he asks in a mock-parental tone. “You really are turning into a rock star.”

I laugh, just happy to be around my brother for a change and having a normal conversation without worrying if I’m going to split in half.

But that all changes once I spot Stevie and Laura. And who they’re talking to.

Just one look at Myles, not even a foot away from us, holding a conversation with Stevie
and my sister like there’s nothing wrong makes my chest ache even more. Like he can hear my pulse booming in my ears, Myles’ eyes dart up in our direction. That’s all I can take.

“
You know what,” I say. “I’m just going to go home instead.”

With that, I turn and make my way toward the exit, people moving aside
; a few say that I did a good job, but I can’t concentrate on that.

I can feel Myles’ eyes on my back the entire three minutes it takes to sift through the line of people leaving, but I make sure I get lost enough in them that I don’t let him follow me out of the club. I don’t tell Honus that I’m not going to be able to make it to the after party pancake celebration, I don’t say goodbye to Trei or Boo, and I’m not planning on saying goodbye to Jade or Stevie
or Laura, but Jade catches my arm just as I reach the street.

“
Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks.

“
Nothing.” I hadn’t realized he was following me. “I’m just tired and I want to go home.”

I know he doesn’t believe me, and I catch him glance back inside. The door has stayed open with
the steady stream of people leaving through it.  

“
You sure you’re okay?” he asks.

“
Yeah. It’s nothing.”

“
You two fighting?”

It would probably be stupid to lie, because he would know if I was lying anyway. But I don’t want to fess up to it either. I just shrug, feeling nauseous and dizzy and not wanting to be here anymore.

“Okay,” Jade says, picking up on the fact that I can’t give him an answer. “I’ll call you tomorrow?”

I’m about to nod when he hugs me.
“Good show tonight, Sunshine.”

“
Thanks,” I barely say back before I turn to walk away.

***

I get to the second block of the eight I have to walk in order to get back to my apartment when I regret that I left in such a hurry. I forgot my iPod in the dressing room, and there’s no way I’m going to walk all the way back for it now. So all I have to accompany me on the walk home are my thoughts. I keep them fixated on notes, the songs we just played, Leena’s birthday on Saturday, anything but Myles. Or worse, Myles and I.

There’s peace inside my mind and body for about a block. The aching in my chest disappears little by little, and the closer I am to home, the less I feel it. So by the time I’m unlocking the door to my apartment and stripping out of my sticky clothes in the bathroom, my mind is pretty much blank
. The sensation in my chest has dulled to a slight throb and is less in my collarbone and more in my lungs. I can deal with that. Only that.

It’s when I’m under the covers in the dark of my bedroom that the pain hits me again. It’s like my entire body is slamming into a wall, determined to bust itself open. I’m not sure if it’s because Myles and I are connected now, or if this is how it’s supposed to feel when someone you love has hidden something from you. The tears fall either way, swimming down my cheeks, making my breath heave, my head pound, wrapping me up and dragging me into unconscious sleep that feels more like blacking out. I’m grateful for the darkness. It’s all I can handle right now.

White Noise

Chapter 10

“I can tell it’s summer from the size of the bugs that fly through the window.—The Silversun Pickups

My wrists are pinned above my head and I can’t see anything. I blink over and over again, but there’s nothing but a vast black space in front of me. There’s hot breath on my face, and the dull throbbing I was feeling in my chest before has turned into agony.

“
Maybe I should deliver him your heart.” Michael’s voice.

Warmness. It’s so warm as it runs down the front of my body. I want to scream but nothing comes out.

“Do you think he would like that?”

***

My cell ringing wakes me up. I haven’t fully caught my breath when I find the cold metal screen on my nightstand. My alarm reads four AM, but I’m grateful something broke me out of the nightmare.

“
What?” My voice comes out as a whisper.

“
Sophie,” Adam says in a distressed huff.

Immed
iately, my body becomes rigid.

“
What is it?” I try to keep the panic that's rising in my stomach out of my voice.

There's no sound, just the static silence that passes between two people on the phone when they both know something horrible has happened.

“It's Stevie,” Adam finally says. “Jade didn't want me to call you, but you need to get down here. He needs you.”

I swallow hard. It's almost enough to get rid of the lump in my throat, but instead it just moves to my chest, which is still aching from the nightmare.

“What about Stevie?” I ask, and my voice sounds so small; I can't even hear it myself as it vibrates in my vocal cords. “Where are you?”

“
It's . . . it’s bad, Sophie. We're at the hospital.”

The tone of his voice when he says this freaks me out.
“What do you mean?” Now my voice picks up in volume. “Is he okay?”

Nothing. Static. Then,
“Just get here as soon as you can.”

I hang up without so much as a goodbye. I don't bother changing into jeans. Everything seems to be moving way too slow for me already, despite how fast I'm trying to slip on my boots, grab my jacket, and leave.

I throw my bag over my shoulder while simultaneously rubbing the sleep from my blurry eyes. I lock the door to my apartment and it feels like such a long time between that action and slamming the door shut. I start my way down the hall, down the first flight of stairs, and I’m practically running, but I’m still moving too slow.

It's unbelievably quiet. All the sounds that I hear only come from me: my footsteps clomping down the stairs, my heavy breathing wheezing in and out as I try to move as fast as I can, my pulse pounding.

So when someone grabs me from behind, I scream without meaning to. I jump back to see Myles standing in the hall when I turn around.

“
Sophie?” he's saying. I notice that he’s still wearing the clothes he was wearing at the club when his hand wraps around my elbow. The contact his fingers make cause a chill to run through me that I have to force myself to push away. He’s trying to get me to stop moving, but I keep going down the stairs. “What's wrong?”

“
I have to go.”

“
Go?” He catches up to me with no problem. “Go where?”

“
Home. Hospital.” I make the mistake of looking him in the eye.

The questioning and concerned expression on his face only makes it worse. Almost all at once, I don't care about what he's been keeping from me this entire time, I just want someone else with me acting human so I'm not alone.

“I had a feeling you needed help,” he finally says.

It takes everything I have in me not to cry when I say,
“It's Stevie.”

“
I'll take you,” Myles says without asking any other questions.

I want to tell him that I don’t need his help, that I can freak out just fine without him, but in the end I say,
“Okay.”

***

“Do you know what hospital?” Myles asks once we’re in the parking garage and inside his car.

I take my phone from my bag, but my hands are shaking too much to call Adam back.

Myles takes it from me, finds Adam in my contacts, and calls. He doesn’t explain anything to my step-dad, just mutters things like, “Where are you?” and “We’re on our way.”

Then the car starts moving and we don’t say anything to each other the entire ride.

The apartments fade away, taxis and cars that have people going to work early inside rush past us. Eventually, Myles turns onto the parkway, where there are virtually no other people. Just me and him. Alone, together and separately.

I watch as the trees fly by my window until the car finally stops and we’re in front of the huge, sterile building. It’s only now that I realize we’re back in New Jersey. This is the hospital I used to come to for my sun allergy. I know where that wing is, but I don’t know how or where the ER is, or if Stevie and Jade are there or somewhere else.

“I don't know where they are.” It registers in my mind before flying out of my mouth.

“
It's okay,” Myles says, “We'll find them.”

He takes my hand once we're outside of the car. I don't know if I should hate it and be mad, or feel comforted, so I just let him lead me through the automatic doors.

Once we’re inside, the smell of rubbing alcohol and Lysol assault my nostrils. There are people here, making human sounds and doing human things. Nurses in bright scrubs rushing off in all directions, patients being wheeled in chairs and gurneys. It’s too much for me to handle right now, so I keep my eyes glued to the white linoleum beneath my boots as Myles guides me around.

After we walk for a few minutes, get in and out of an elevator, and then walk a few more feet, Myles stops abruptly. When I look up, there are double doors in front of us, the sign reading
“ICU” in cold, black letters.

“
They're inside there,” Myles says softly before opening the door.

The hatred I have for hospitals multiplies by about one hundred when we get inside. It’s not just because the last time I was in one I technically died, or because I've been forced to come
here for my sun issue, or even because of the sterile alcohol and rubber gloves smell. It's because of the faces that greet us when we enter the small waiting room.

Adam, Mom, and Laura are sitting in orange plastic chairs lined against a wall. Their gazes meet mine in varying degrees of distress or confusion or sadness.

Upon seeing me, Adam stands and rushes over, scooping me into a tight hug. Myles lets go of my hand and steps back.

“
What's going on?” I say into Adam's pressed shirt.

“
Hit and Run,” he says. “Jade's only got minor injuries, but Stevie. . .” He pulls away so he can look at me. “Stevie's in bad shape.”

“
So,” I start, but I have to clear my throat. “Where are they?”

“
Jade needed a few stitches.” Adam says. “Stevie's in surgery. He had internal bleeding when they brought him in. Jade was driving and a car came out of nowhere and crushed the passenger's side.”

“
But the other person's car was fine?” Myles asks now.

Adam turns to him.
“When the ambulance and police arrived, there was no other car.”

It isn’t crazy to think that there are more than a few similarities between my
“car accident” last winter and this one. I want to get Myles alone so I can talk to him about this, but I can’t seem to find the words to ask and I feel like I'm going to fall over.

Thankfully, Myles is behind me and grabs my elbow even though I haven't moved. I sit down in one of the plastic chairs with Myles claiming the one to my right and Adam sit
ting on my left.

“
When can I see them?” I ask.

Mom flips a page of her magazine a little too forcefully, causing everyone to briefly look in her direction to see where the sudden sound came from. Her hair is in a ponytail and she’s wearing a purple jogging suit.

Laura, who’s sitting next to her, says, “As soon as they can,” ignoring her.

I let out a breath. And we wait.

No other family joins us in the waiting room. No doctors or nurses come in through the double glass doors. People walk by it constantly, but none of them look inside. It’s like we’re not even here.

It’s quiet again. A woman on the intercom pages doctors once in a while, soft rock from the 90s comes through a fuzzy speaker. But no one says anything.