Fearless (5 page)

Ten years from now Heather’s awfulness would have caught up with her, and she’d be a disgruntled wretch pining for the glory days.

“I STARTED THINKING/NOT DRINKING was better for me/so it got me to thinking/about getting a lobotomy …”

“What did she just say?” Gaia was sitting behind a very large, very expensive mug of coffee across from Ed and squinting at the band that was playing in the far corner. Gaia was happy to ignore them. She’d seen plenty of unplugged garage bands in her day. But these weird snippets of songs kept floating into her consciousness and sticking there the way raspberry seeds stuck in her molars.

“Huh?” Ed asked.

“That singer. Did you hear the words?” Gaia asked.

Ed strained to listen over the clink of spoons and the hissing of the cappuccino machine. “Something about a lobotomy.”

“You’re joking,” Gaia declared.

Ed gave her a puzzled look. “If so, it wasn’t a very funny joke.”

“No, I mean, she didn’t actually say lobotomy.”

“Okay, she didn’t.” Ed shrugged. “Why does it matter?”

Gaia stirred her coffee. “Never mind.” She studied the singer. She looked a little like Ashley Judd before the makeup went on. An East Village version, anyway,

with a wool stocking cap, hair so messy it was coagulating into dreads, and a tattoo of a spider that perched on her collarbone.

Gaia fidgeted in her chair. She didn’t want to leave too much silence because Ed might bring up what happened last night and she really didn’t want him to.

“You know what the problem is with these fancy brown sugar packets?” Gaia held one up. “The granules are too big. They don’t dissolve. They just hang around in the bottom of your mug, so your coffee isn’t as sweet as you want it to be until you get to the last sip, which is so sweet, you want to puke.”

Ed looked both puzzled and slightly amused. “Huh. Hadn’t thought of that.” He gestured at the counter. “They have regular sugar up there.”

Gaia nodded. Why had she gone for coffee after school with Ed?

Because he’d asked her, mainly. Because he’d tried to save her life, even though she’d ended up saving his. She should have remembered, before she’d accepted, that going for coffee with someone usually meant talking to them.

Ed was looking at her a little too meaningfully. He stretched his arms out in front of him. “Listen, Gaia, I just wanted to tell you that I—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Gaia jumped in quickly.

“Sorry?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“What is
it
?”

Now he really was going to think she was a wacko. “It. Anything.”

“You don’t want to talk about anything?” Ed asked carefully.

Gaia tugged at her hair awkwardly. “I don’t want to talk about last night. I don’t want you to ask me any questions.”

Ed nodded and digested that for a minute. “Hey, Gaia?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll make you a promise.”

“That sounds heavy.”

Ed laughed. “Just listen, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I promise that I won’t ever ask you any questions, all right?”

Gaia laughed, too. “I think that was a question.”

“Fine, so it was the last one.”

“Fine.”

Gaia was starting to sense too much friendliness in the air, so she stood up. “I’m going to, um, get that regular sugar. I’ll be right back.”

“Good.”

“Okay.”

She walked to the counter with her mug. This

was so cozy and normal seeming, she felt as if she were inhabiting somebody else’s body. Absently she dumped two packets of white sugar into her coffee.

Oh, yes, she was just a happy girl in the West Village, having coffee with a friend.

A troop of familiar-looking people streamed in. They were from school, she realized. The self-designated “beautiful people.” There were three girls and two guys, and they were laughing about something. Their manner and wardrobe screamed, “Put me in a Banana Republic ad right now!” One girl in particular was quite beautiful, with long, shiny dark hair, slouchy chinos, and a collared shirt that was whiter and crisper than anything Gaia had ever owned.

Much as she wanted to dismiss them as they swarmed around her at the counter, ordering various combinations of lattes, au laits, con leches, and mochas in pretentious Italian sizes, Gaia couldn’t help imagining some alternate universe where she was one of them.

What if she were witty and well dressed and carefree? What if her biggest dilemma in life were whether to order a grande latte or a magnifico mocha? What if that fairly cute one, the boy in the beat-up suede jacket, called her all the time? She studied his dark hair, so pleasantly dilapidated, and

his hazel eyes. She allowed herself a look at his lips. What if he’d kissed her? Not just once but hundreds of times?

She felt a weird tingling in her lower extremities as the fantasy evolved in her mind. He’d be standing next to her, studying the coffee board, as familiar to her as a brother, and he’d reach for her without really thinking about it. She’d be wearing a cute little lavender sweater set and crisp khakis instead of these oversized drawstring army pants and her faded blue football tee. He’d loop an arm around her hips and draw her a little closer and order something she knew he’d order because he always ordered it. Then he’d order for her, too. Not because he was an asinine pig, but because he knew she loved hazelnut mochaccino even though it did cost six dollars. Then he’d pay, even though she’d tell him not to. And she’d say something so funny and adorable that he’d look at her, really look at her, and remember how beautiful she was and how much he loved her. Then he’d lean toward her and kiss her on the mouth. No tongue or anything. That would be tacky in the middle of a cafe. His kiss wouldn’t be long or filled with questions or expectations because he could kiss her anytime he wanted and he didn’t have anything to prove. It would be soft and real and simple, yet mean a thousand

loving things. She would kiss him back, but not in a way that was desperate or inexperienced. And then—

Gaia suddenly realized that the boy she was kissing in her mind’s eye had transformed. Gone were the dark hair and the suede jacket, replaced by ginger-colored hair that curled around his temples and a preppy gray twill jacket with a corduroy collar. And then she realized that this person who’d barged right into her fantasy was none other than him, the guy from the park—the guy who’d wandered by the chess tables. How did he get here? she demanded of herself stridently. Who invited
him?

“Gaia?”

She was so startled and unnerved that she forgot she even had hands, let alone a steaming mug of coffee in one of them. In horror she watched the mug sail from her grasp and the brown sugary stuff leap out of it and land all over the front of that very white, very crisp shirt of her alternate-universe best girlfriend.

The girl screamed.

“Oh, shit,” Gaia muttered.

Suddenly everybody burst into motion: The fairly cute boy was grabbing up napkins, the girls were buzzing all over their friend, the other boy was plucking pieces of mug from the mess on the floor.

Of course, Gaia knew that the right thing to do was

apologize a lot, hand the girl a few napkins, make a self-deprecating remark, and offer to get her shirt dry cleaned. But for some reason Gaia did none of those things. She just stood there, gaping like a complete moron.

The offended girl turned on her with narrowed eyes. “
Excuse
me, but you just poured boiling coffee down my shirt.”

“I—,” Gaia began.

“What the hell is your problem? Are you some kind of idiot? Could you at least apologize?” The girl didn’t look so pretty anymore.

“I just—I—I’m really—”

“Hel-
lo
?” the girl demanded. “English? Do you speak English?
Habla español?
” This was apparently humorous to herself and to her friends.

Gaia really had been working up to a sincere and heartfelt apology, but this girl no longer deserved it. “Bitch,” Gaia said under her breath. It was completely the wrong thing to do. The worst thing to do, but Gaia had a talent for that.

The ex-pretty girl stiffened. “
What?
Did you just say what I think you said? Who the hell do you think you are?”

Gaia turned away at this point. It was the only thing to do. Gaia heard the girl railing and threatening as she returned to the table and a shell-shocked-looking Ed.

“Gaia, can I ask you one question, just one, and this is really the last?” Ed didn’t wait for her to respond.

“Do you get in fights
everywhere
you go?”

“MARCO! OVER HERE.”

Marco glanced around the Chinese restaurant casually, as if he hadn’t noticed her the instant he’d walked through the door. Man, she was hot. She was wearing dark denim jeans today and a formfitting pink sweater.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he said, treating her to his most charming smile and sitting down across from her.

She returned his smile and for a moment laid her hand on top of his. She was making him dizzy again.

A waiter hustled by and dropped two menus. The place was still noisy, but the after-school crowds were clearing out. Marco checked his hair quickly in the mirror that coated the restaurant’s side wall. He was glad he’d refused to shave his head like the other guys. He consulted the filthy laminated menu. Was he supposed to order something? He suspected she hadn’t

asked him to meet her here because she was hungry.

“So, Marco, tell me how you’ve been.” She was studying him intently and ignoring her menu. She leaned close. He felt a gentle foot on his.

Yes, dizzy. Really dizzy. “I’ve been, uh, pretty cool.” He swallowed.

“What’s been going on in the park?”

Shit. Was he supposed to be able to think when she was doing that with her foot?

“Not much,” he said. “Couple of my buddies got beat up last night.”

She looked more interested than concerned. “Who did it?”

“I’m not sure. Some real tough guys, I guess. Some guys who know how to fight.” Now her foot was gone, and he really wanted it back.

“You’ll get them,” she said confidently.

He liked the way she said it and the way she looked at him. He nodded real slow, the way his buddy Martin’s older brother did. “Bet your ass,” he said.

“I need to ask you something,” she said.

Where was her foot? Had he done something wrong? “Yeah?”

“There’s this girl, a friend of mine. She likes to hang out in the park. I know there’s a lot of stuff going on. You know, slashing and whatever.”

“I heard about that,” he said, his look just as knowing as hers.

“I want to make sure nobody touches her, okay? She’s a real sweetheart, and I don’t want her getting hurt.”

The foot was back. Marco felt a dull buzz in his ears. “Right. Okay. You point her out to me in the park, and I’ll take care of it.”

The restaurant was nearly empty now. The waiters were sitting at a round table at the very back, eating their own snack. Marco felt a hand on his knee under the table. He had to stifle a groan. He leaned toward her and snaked his hand around the back of her neck. He kissed her hard, and she kissed him back. Her sweet smell combined with the heavy scents of fried wontons and cabbage. Her soft, blissful tongue explored his while the brown Formica table jammed into his stomach. God, he wanted to do it right here.

Suddenly her tongue and her hands were gone and she was standing. “Come on.” She gestured at the door. “I know a place we can go.”

ED SAW HER THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, sitting at a chess table near the southwestern corner of the park, and his heart sped up a little. The late September breeze was blowing her blond hair out of its

messy ponytail and around her fece. She’d shed her rumpled jacket to reveal a sleeveless white T-shirt and lithe, sculpted shoulders. Her muscles were defined, but long and graceful. In the sunshine he noticed a few freckles along the bridge of her nose. Her eyes looked less stormy grayand more Caribbean turquoise in this light.

Her opponent at the chessboard was a man in his thirties wearing a baseball cap and a pair of expensive sneakers and appearing to concentrate about ten times harder than she was.

She was wearing an expression he hadn’t seen on her before—sort of wide-eyed and distracted. She gazed around. She examined her fingernails. She even appeared to giggle while losing a pawn. Was this actually Gaia?

Ed’s legs were for crap, but his eyes were excellent. It was definitely Gaia. Either that or her ditzy twin sister.

He watched in surprise as she lost two more pawns and a knight. Her opponent was looking pretty pleased with himself. He was also allowing his eyes a few breaks from the board to gawk at Gaia.
Pervert
, Ed thought irritably.

Gaia lost another pawn. She might be able to take Bruce Lee in a fight, but she sure sucked at chess. She giggled again. It was a weird sound. Like a parakeet mooing or something. What was up with her?

Gaia’s opponent snatched up her rook, and suddenly her manner changed. She focused with a slight frown on

the board and started making moves rapidly. The man was smiling at her when she looked up from the board again. He looked so patronizing and full of himself that Ed suspected he was about to ask her out. He hoped Gaia would break his jaw.

Instead she said, “Checkmate,” in a matter-of-fact way. Ed read her lips more than actually heard her say it.

Ed watched with blossoming pleasure as the man’s face fell and his mouth snapped shut. He looked confused, then a bit suspicious, and then downright sour as he pulled out his wallet and handed over a twenty. As he walked away with his
New York Times
tucked under his arm, his overly youthful baseball cap looked even more absurd. Maybe he was in his forties.

“Go, Gaia,” Ed said, wheeling over.

She turned toward his voice, her eyebrows connecting-over angry eyes. “What, are you spying on me?”

“No, I’m strolling through the park and stopping to say hi to a friend,” he countered. “A paranoid friend.” He
was
basically spying, but she didn’t need to know that.

Her fierce eyes relented a bit. “Oh.”

“I see you discovered how to play chess right there in the middle of the game. Wow.”

She cocked her head and almost smiled. “Gee, yeah. Lucky timing, huh?”

“And you made twenty dollars to boot,” Ed added.

“Poor bastard didn’t know what hit him.”

“So you were spying,” Gaia accused, but she didn’t look mad anymore.

“Maybe a little,” he admitted.

She sighed. “You know, Ed, if you learn any more of my secrets, I really will have to kill you.” She stood and slung her weather-beaten messenger bag over her shoulder.

He shrugged. “Okay. I guess.”

She started walking toward Washington Place, and he followed her.

“But before you do,” he continued, “I was wondering, will you go to a party with me tonight?”

She stopped and turned on him, her eyebrows drawing-together again. “Are you joking? Of course not.”

Since his accident Ed had become a near professional button pusher, but nobody’s buttons gave him quite the thrill that Gaia’s did. Most people pretended to be civil for far too long. Gaia got spitting mad right away.

“Come on, it’s a school party. Allison Rovitz is having it—you know, Heather’s friend?”

“Who’s Heather?” She was walking again.

“The girl you, uh, met over coffee yesterday,” Ed said, quickly catching up with her.

Gaia shook her head in disbelief. “Boy, you sure do make it sound tempting.”

Ed nodded. “It might be fun. Besides, it would be

good for you to meet some people,” he suggested brightly.

Gaia stopped short and glanced around her. “What is going on here? Are the cameras rolling? Are we secretly starring in an after-school special?
Wheelchair Boy Befriends Angry Orphan Girl
?”

Ed laughed genuinely. “So I’ll meet you there at nine? I’ll leave the address on your answering machine.”

“No!” Gaia almost shouted.

“Why not?” Ed persisted. “You don’t have anything else to do.”

“Yes, I do,” she shot back.

“Like what?” Ed demanded.

She was silent for a few seconds. “Okay, I don’t.” Gaia glared at him. “Rub it in.”

Ed loved the way she pressed her lips together. He loved the way she stood with one hip stuck out. He tried not to be obvious when he admired the way her hair fell perfectly, framing her face and stunning eyes, no matter how hard the wind tore at it. He had heard of this mythic species, beautiful girls who were not conscious of the fact that they were beautiful. He’d seen them represented in movies and on TV-unconvincingly for the most part. He’d read about them in books. But he’d never actually met one in person until Gaia.

“I know why you won’t go,” Ed said suddenly.

Gaia’s patience was waning. “Why?”

“Because Heather’s going to be there. You’re scared of Heather,” Ed stated confidently.

Gaia put her hands on her hips. She looked like she really did want to kill him. “Ed. I am not
scared
of Heather. Trust me.”