Ghost Time (41 page)

It was my handwriting, it was exactly what I wrote him the day my dad showed up at our house:
I wish you could see my face now. Every day, I wish you could feel what I feel, even though I
know you can’t. And you couldn’t yesterday, or the day before that, or last week, and chances are, you won’t feel what I feel tomorrow or the next day, either. But I still can’t stop wishing that you could. So what is it, chemical? Really, is hope just another chemical? I don’t know, I really don’t. Whatever.

I didn’t say a word. I just stared, biting the inside of my cheek as hard as I could without showing it. It’s almost as though it was torn from a girl’s diary, Jenna said. No, I said, and she looked at me. You don’t think so? she asked, and I said, No. Meaning no comment. I’m not supposed to talk to reporters, I said, doctor’s and lawyer’s orders. She looked away, scratching her temple, seeing her plan didn’t work. She nodded, sliding out of the booth, grabbing her computer. Well, I’ll e-mail you a copy of the still, if you like. I wanted it, and then, on second thought, I said, That’s not necessary, but thanks. She smiled, All right, then. Good to see you, Thea. You, too, Ms. Darnell, I said, and I looked away. I waited until the bell over the front door rang, and then I slid across the booth and rested my head against the front window. I ducked down, so the Elders wouldn’t see me crying, while hoping, if Cam was out there, he could see me now, and I closed my eyes, thinking,
Nice trick. I’m touched, really. And I know you’re out there, watching me. But the thing is, how do I trust you if I don’t even know who you really are? The person I loved, he never really existed, did he?

I felt so betrayed. I can’t even put it into words, how that felt, and a moment later, Sharon left something on the table, and I saw she’d brought me napkins to dry my face. I nodded my
thank-you, and I didn’t feel sick anymore, and I didn’t feel sad or scared or angry or anything. I’m sure it was shock, but still, I almost laughed. After all, the joke was on me, because in the end, turns out, I thought right: I just made him up in my head.

(SEVEN MONTHS EARLIER)

4:03 PM

I hate American Apparel. Okay, I’ll shop there, but I hate their ads. Seriously, if I have to see another chick, bent over with her ass spread… And it’s always chicks, too. You never see a guy with his butt or his legs spread at the camera. Which was why I’d been working on a series, swapping men for the girls. I had an entire folder of American Apparel ads and Xeroxes of famous men I’d been working with. Some of them were pretty good, actually. Bill Clinton, that was good. But George Bush and Dick Cheney in matching micromesh bodysuits were probably my favorites. And if nothing else, it made social studies a little more interesting.

I was working on a new ad, when I realized there was someone standing over my shoulder, staring at my drawing. And I remember… I remember the exact moment I stopped drawing and I looked up at him, and then he stood straight, stepping back,
realizing his bad manners, staring over my shoulder. It’s so stupid, but I remember the moment the image of his face clicked in my brain, like the picture was taken, and I realized he was, quite possibly, the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. And for some reason, I wasn’t at all surprised to find him there. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare, he said. Yes, you did, I said. You’re right, he said, but I didn’t mean to be rude. Despite leaning over my shoulder, staring at my notebook, I said. Well, there’s staring, and there’s staring—. Yes, and you were staring, I said, looking at him, like, come on. That’s what I’m trying to say. Exactly. And who knew? he said, tilting his head, taking one last peek at my drawing: Really, who knew Stephen Hawking was so flexible?

That was it: that was the moment. I thought I’d find a way to discount him, to write him off, dislike him, maybe even loathe him and his beauty, but then it hit. It doesn’t happen but once in a blue moon anymore, but still. You know there’s an operation they can do to cut your blush out? Snip, snip: no more blushing. Me, it’d take more teams of surgeons than those conjoined twins, because they’d have to start disconnecting me at my hipbones. Maybe even my kneecaps. And at that moment, I felt it coming, blood like a tsunami ocean. He took a seat at the same moment I stood from the table: I need to get a drink of water, I said. No problem. I’ll be here, he said, putting his bag up on the table. Great, I said, and then, thankfully, he couldn’t see me wincing at my stupid comeback:
great
? How fortunate that I was carrying my notebook, too, because otherwise, I would’ve held up my hands at myself:
What was that?
Great, I said, walking into the hall. That’s just great, Thea….

(ELEVEN WEEKS LATER)

4:45 PM

We kept it quiet. For like three weeks, I didn’t see her, didn’t ask about her—I didn’t even want to
think
about Mel for fear that somehow, some way, someone would find out. That one day I’d get some text or I’d go home and find a video on YouTube and Knox would never let me see her again. No way: it was
our
birthday, so we kept it to ourselves for almost an entire month.

So when Mom asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I told her I wanted to be left alone. I didn’t want any lawyers, I didn’t want any videos, I didn’t want any reporters or awful phone calls or e-mails or missing boyfriends. I asked if we could have dinner the next night, and if I could just have the apartment to myself for a night? I told her I didn’t want her to buy me anything, I just wanted some space. It was mean of me—I don’t even know why I was being so mean to her, but I couldn’t stop, either.

Anyhow, we made a plan. I offered to stay with Melody for
a couple hours in between the time Knox had to go to work and Heather came home, and since it was our birthday, he talked Heather into letting me spend a few hours with her, alone. When I got there, we waited until he left, and then I called a cab. I’d never called a cab before, but I told them I had a friend in a chair, and they sent one of those little vans and even had a lift. I guess for all the old people in town.

After I hung up, I got the strangest feeling. Well, probably because I knew we were going to get in trouble, but I’d been hauling my bag around all day. So, right before the cab came, I put it down and pulled out Hubble, and I said, Mel, do you think I could leave this here? She shot me this look, and she said,
Are you sure?
It was strange, I know, because I’ve never let our notebook out of my sight, but I just had this feeling I shouldn’t carry it around the mall with me.

Hide it under my mattress
, Mel said, and I said, You sure? Then she got the strange feeling, too, I could tell, because she changed her tune and said,
Positive. Leave it here. What safer place could there be in this town than my bed?
she said, and I just nodded, I’m not touching that. She goes,
No, seriously, no one will ever find it if you hide it between the bottom mattress and the bedspring
, she said. So I folded back her mattress, and I placed Hubble just under where her pillows were, then covered it back up, making sure her bed was perfectly tidy before we headed back out.

The cabdriver got out to open the doors for us, and when we got in the cab, we just started giggling, Melody and I. She goes,
We’re going to get in so much trouble
, and I go, I know. Isn’t
this great? Then I turned off my phone. I told the driver, I said, It’s our birthday, and he looked at me in the rearview, and he goes, Yeah? You two sisters? And I go,
Twins
—Mel said it at the same time, and I go, Jinx! And she said it, too, same exact time. Like I said, grinning, I was so happy. She made the guy nervous, Melody did, I could tell. Which is good, because he ignored us the whole way. I had to ask her again, I go, Are you sure about this? And she goes,
I’m sure
, and I used the money she had in her piggy bank, like she told me to, but I saved her a surprise.

I waited until we got there, and then I saw this bench that was free, so I wheeled her there, and she goes,
What are we doing?
And I go, I got you something, and she goes,
No! Thee, no—I thought this was our gift
, she said, meaning our trip to the mall, right? I go, It is, but I got you a little something, and I pulled her gift out of my bag. It was small, soft, wrapped. I made the wrapping paper—I drew a picture of her on Kraft paper and I showed it to her.
Thee
, she whined, because she felt bad, and I go, You want me to open it or not? She just grinned at me, and then she goes,
Open it!
So I undid the piece of tape at the back, saving her drawing, and I opened her gift and showed it to her, holding it up.

She goes,
Ohmygod. Oh. My God.
I go, You like it? It’s vintage, and I looked at it, holding it up. Took me eight days of hand-to-hand combat bidding on eBay, but I got her an original Meat Is Murder T-shirt. I even kept the envelope it was mailed in, I said, it came all the way from Manchester. She goes.
No!
I go, It’s true. I’ll show you, and she goes,
I can’t believe it!
I go, You
want to wear it? And she goes,
Yes, yes!
I go, Over your shirt? And she goes,
No, I hate this shirt! Burn it!

So I took her to the bathroom and we changed her clothes, and I didn’t burn it, but I threw her shirt in the trash—I did—she told me to. Then Mel goes,
I’m ready—let’s do this.
I couldn’t help laughing, but I go, Let’s, and we went back to the mall, and she goes,
Thee?
I stopped and bent over her, looking at her upside down, and she goes,
I didn’t get you anything
, and she felt so bad. I go,
You did, too—you got me my best friend forever
, and then I leaned forward, giving her butterfly kisses. Then she goes,
Ohmygod, Thea, that was so sweet, I think I gagged.
All right, enough. Let’s do this already, I said, ignoring her, pushing her toward the front doors.

When we got into the mall, the center of the ring, Mel freaked out. Just total sensory overload, you know, and she clenched her jaw, and she goes,
Thee, people are staring at me.
I go, Don’t flatter yourself: they’re staring at me, and Mel goes,
You know, you’re very funny for a sixteen-year-old girl
, and then it hit me. I was just like,
Wow, I’m sixteen.
I go, Mel, we’re sixteen, can you believe it? And she squealed,
I know!
Gave me the chills. I go, Seriously, it’s not you, it’s your shirt: they don’t get many vegetarians in this neck of the woods, Mel, and she started laughing. People were gawking, it’s true, but I was just like, What’s your problem? She’s in a wheelchair and you’ve got a fat ass, so what? Then, out of nowhere, Mel goes,
Woo hoo! Sixteen in leather boots!
I almost fell on the ground, laughing. I can’t even remember the last time I laughed like that. Honestly.

Anyhow, we looked at the mall map, and I cruised her around to the three places, and she chose the one she liked, then we went in and waited our turn. When the stylist came over, the one handed our appointment, she had jet-black hair—sort of like that guy from Flock of Seagulls, except one side of her head was shaved and she had a nose ring, and seeing, like, eight piercings in the ear on the shaved side of her head, I was just like, I’ve done some really crazy things, but I don’t think I could ever do that, but Mel goes,
She’s perfect.

So the girl, the stylist, whatever, comes over and she looks at Mel, saying, Hello! All singsong like people do when they see this poor girl in a wheelchair, right? I mean, I know they don’t mean to condescend, but it annoys me. I go, My sister wants her hair cut in a bob, and she leaned over, smiling at Mel, and she goes, What kind of bob? I go, Like Siouxsie Sioux, and the girl goes, “Spellbound”? And I go: Snap! And Mel goes,
Told you.
I go, You ready? And Mel goes—smart-ass, Mel goes,
I was born ready.
So I wheeled her over to the girl’s chair, and the woman unfolded a cape, then she wrapped it around Mel’s neck. I told her we could skip the wash, because it would be too hard in the wheelchair, so after the girl wet down Mel’s hair, I took Mel’s hand and squeezed, watching the stylist make the first cut, five inches of hair, falling to the floor.

It took forever with the blowout, but when she finished, I was just like, Ohmygod, Mel, look at you! She looked so incredible, I was just, like, speechless. Looking at herself in the mirror, Mel goes,
I can’t believe it’s me
, and I go, It’s you—it’s the new you. And she goes,
Thee, for the first time, I feel sixteen, not six!
You
look so gorgeous, I told her, and she said,
Thee, we aren’t done yet.
And I said, Makeup? And she said,
Yes. But first, I want my ears pierced
, and I go, Mel, no—. And she goes,
Thea, I’m not a child—you told me your mom let you get yours pierced when you were eight!
And I go, I know, Mel, but, and she goes,
It’s my birthday, and I have a right to choose, don’t I?

So I took her to the piercing place at the end of the mall. It was a shop that sold earrings, and the woman had a piercing station at the back. When she saw us, of course she assumed it was for me, and I go, No, it’s for her, and before she could say anything, I took out the money to pay her. I mean, the place was dead, she couldn’t say no, really. So she sterilized Mel’s ears with alcohol, and I go, You’re so brave, and held her hand while the lady put the gun to her ear—I think it hurt me more than it hurt her when he shot the stud through her lobe, and her entire body spasmed. She goes:
Fine, I’m fine
, and I was like, Oh, shit, Mel, you sure? And she goes—get this—she goes,
Thee, don’t worry, I have a very high pain threshold.
And then she started singing,
I am the daughter and the heir….

An hour later, Melody had a new hair cut, pierced ears, and professional makeup. I don’t know why the mall makeup artists always plaster it on, but anyhow. I took pictures, showing her on my phone, and then Mel goes,
Ohmygod, I look so retarded!
And I said, You look like me, and she said,
I repeat
, and I said, Hey, hey, it’s my birthday: be nice, and she said,
I know. Sorry, now I’m acting like you.
I put my phone away, rolling my eyes at her, and she goes,
It’s just that I can’t focus my face, I can’t—
, but I cut her off. I said, Mel, I can’t listen to this today. And you know
what? I said, leaning over the chair, looking at her upside down: You’re beautiful. She is—she’s so beautiful, and then I heard these voices—a voice in my head and a voice in my heart, saying, tell her, say it, and I opened my mouth to say, I love you, and then I heard this voice say, Girls. I knew before I turned around, but I still turned, and sure enough, this mall cop stepped up, and I knew we were busted. Mel knew, too, because she goes,
Uh-oh
, and the cop spoke into the walkie-talkie on his shoulder, and I go, Party’s over.