Gravestone (20 page)

46. In Rainbows

Sometimes the moments crawl by like a centipede. And sometimes they slip away like a plume of smoke. January turns to February, and I barely seem to notice. I stay busy, with the hour of detention every day after school ending at the start of February. Coach Brinks seems to think that I should be forced to run harder since I’ve been missing some of practice. Between studying and track and work on Saturdays at the Crag’s Inn, I’m exhausted all the time.

I’m staying under the radar. No new notes visit my locker. Newt doesn’t have any discoveries for me. He seems to have given up on the zip drive.

Time moves so quickly that I’m surprised to discover it’s Valentine’s Day. How could I totally forget a holiday like this one, even if some candy company and card company created it?

How can I be such a loser to have nobody to even give a card to, much less to give me one?

Everything’s been going fine, but this is like the car hitting a deep pothole in the middle of the dirt road. The alignment seems to go out of whack, and I realize that I’ve been coasting and forgetting.

But not today.

Not on Valentine’s Day.

During art I completely ignore Kelsey. We’ve continued our nice little banter every period, but suddenly I feel a cloud over my head and my soul. I feel empty and I feel afraid. I feel all these things and I can’t begin to tell her. Nor can I play her little games today. I’m not interested, so why bother?

So I shut her down the first few times she tries to talk. Then we just work in silence.

There’s a part of me that would normally make amends, but not today.

I’m feeling off base, like screaming is going on inside my head and I need to get out of here.

I glance at Kelsey’s eyes behind her glasses, but she deliberately doesn’t look my way. Her normally cheery face has a shadow over it.

Happy now, Chris? Happy now that you’ve infected even those who seem uninfectable?

When the bell rings, she gets her things together, then she turns to me like a robot and hands me a card. “I got it, so I figure I might as well give it to you. But I know you’ll think it’s stupid. Whatever.”

She forces a card into my hand and then dashes away. It’s not
that
dramatic, but still.

Valentine’s Day. Of course she’d get me a card. Could it be any more obvious?

I feel like a tool.

I’m left alone in the classroom and open the card. It shows a girl standing on a palette of colors, like a messy rainbow or something. Her hair is flying out like she’s being struck by lightning, and she has an expression on her face like she’s laughing in a delirious way. 

I open the card.

Every color is just a bit brighter when you’re around.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Kelsey

This is pretty much a perfect card.

The colors are just like the kind we paint every day.

I can’t believe she got this for me. Then I think of what she said and how she walked off. I slip the card into my notebook.

I haven’t had someone notice me like this since—

Since the world brightened to a point where it couldn’t brighten anymore.

Since the world had a blackout.

I know I should go find Kelsey and apologize for being rude.

But I can’t. I can’t and I won’t.

There are things I need to do. Things I need to do today.

And there are many other people that Kelsey can and should be around. Not me.

It can’t and it won’t be me.

47. Gravestone

I’ve been wanting to do this for some time. Wanting and needing. I just haven’t known how or where or when.

This isn’t something for a movie or a television series. Maybe that’s where I’m getting the idea, but that’s not why I’m doing it. I’m doing it because—because I have to.

Because she deserves it.

Because despite how much I want to forget and move on, despite the insanity of it all that gets a little less insane as time goes on, I need to do this. For Jocelyn.

Mom let me borrow the car because I told her I’m just going down the road to a friend’s house. She’s letting me drive a little more with each passing week, for practice. Sometimes she’s with me and sometimes not. She knows how remote these roads are and that nobody’s around to give me a ticket.

She doesn’t know exactly how far I’m driving, but she doesn’t need to know.

It takes me longer than I expected to find it. The place Jocelyn took me, where she showed me the church and the cemetery that used to be.

The tall grass and weeds aren’t as high as I remember, and the church seems more desolate than I remember. The ground is hard and it takes me a while to find them, but I eventually see the pair of gravestones.

I place a rock between them.

I’m not exactly sure what else to do.

Is she watching me from above or around like in
The Sixth Sense
?

It’s a nice thought, thinking she might be seeing me, but that’s not why I’m doing this. I’m doing it out of respect. And love. And need.

The rock is one I found down by the creek, thin and about the length of a football. I carved some crude markings on it with a small pickaxe I bought in town. They’re undecipherable except by me.

And by Jocelyn.

At the top is a large J. Then at the center, resembling the cuttings of a caveman, it says December 31. At the bottom, a round thing that’s supposed to resemble a heart.

I look at the flat rock between the two short tombstones. I breathe in and feel the cold emptiness of winter. Then I look up to the sky. “You once called me your guardian angel. Remember that?”

I’m talking out loud, unafraid of being overheard. For some reason, I think this is a special place uninfected by Solitary.

Then again, the church did burn to the ground. What do I know?

“You called me an answer to prayer. But I couldn’t guard you, Joss. I couldn’t save you. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not being there.”

I look at the sky. I don’t have tears, not anymore. There’s just this big gaping hole inside, like the remnants of a dissolving asteroid plummeting to the ground and disintegrating. All I’m left with is a crater full of ashes and rock.

“You told me that you came here and asked God to send you a sign. As a reminder of the brightness. So I’m going to do the same thing. I’m going to ask. Maybe this is a magical place where God doesn’t exist but wishes can come true. I don’t know. I don’t know anything except that you’re gone and I failed you. I miss you.”

Once again I glance at the rock I made, this ugly scratched excuse for a gravestone.

“If it’s true—if what you believed is true—then you’re okay. And that also means you can look out for me. So I’m asking you—I’m asking God—I’m asking whoever can hear me: Help me. Send something to help me out. Because I’m lost in this darkness and I’m not sure where I’m going to go or what I’m going to do.”

The wind is slight and cold. I would love to say that I suddenly have a premonition, that I hear a whisper, that I see something. But there’s nothing.

It’s just a boy standing over the makeshift grave of the girl he loved, praying a prayer he doesn’t really believe.

Faith isn’t an easy thing. Whoever tells you it is, is just wrong.

I bend down and touch the rock one more time.

I know I’ll never come back to this place.

When I’m back in my mom’s car, I see it.

I wonder if it’s the same wolf I’ve seen before.

No, this one is darker and not as tall. It’s standing near the grave site. It doesn’t sniff, doesn’t seem to be looking for anything. It walks as if it’s

That’s stupid.

I shut my voice up before it goes further.

No wolf is patrolling these hidden graves.

It’s just that this place is so remote that wolves and other animals seem to be everywhere.

Good thing wolfie didn’t decide to bite like the birdie did.

It’s getting dark, and the outline of the wolf makes me shiver for a second. I start up the car and drive away.

48. 1000 Reasons

My prayer is answered the following day.

I’m sitting in the lunchroom trying to make conversation with Newt, who’s playing with an app on his iPhone and pretty much ignoring me.

Until he says, “Oh yeah, I finally got to see what was on that zip drive.”

I stop chewing and just stare at him. If he was closer I’d hit him. Seriously. “What? When?”

“Yesterday. I asked my guy, and he finally emailed me the contents.”

“And you were going to tell—”

Before I can finish my sentence I hear an
Oops!
and something slams straight over my head. Something cold and thick and gooey drips down on my forehead and nose and shoulders.

I smell it. The unmistakable scent of Thousand Island dressing.

I jerk back as the bowl bounces on the ground. I hear a snicker and Newt’s “Gross” and the fat pig’s stupid voice say, “Oh man, I’m
really
sorry.”

Gus is literally beaming.

Here’s my bright ray of sunshine. Thanks a lot, all you who hear prayers.

Riley is right next to Gus and asks if I’d like a little lettuce with my dressing.

I stand and wipe a thick slab of the stuff off my head.

Everybody is watching us.

“Great.”

That’s all I can say.

Gus stands there with Burt and Riley at his side, daring me to do something.

He knows that I can’t. He knows that one more straw or infraction or anything will result in a suspension.

“I must’ve tripped,” he says, his smile showing his ugly teeth. “I’m really sorry.”

For a second I look at Newt, but he only looks away.

This all started with you, remember that?

I hesitate for a brief second. A really brief second.

Then I brush past Gus and head to the bathroom.

As I go, I hear the laughter and discussion turn into something even worse.

Applause.

I’m running water over my head in the sink when I sense someone standing next to me. I look up to see Poe.

I’m surprised, not because she’s standing in the guys’ bathroom, but because she’s about the last person I’d expect to see. I’d probably be less surprised if Jocelyn were to walk in.

“What are you doing?” Poe asks, looking at the mess I’ve made on my T-shirt by trying to rub out the puke-color Thousand Island stains. “You have to take that off.”

I want to ask her why she’s bothering to talk to me all of a sudden, but I don’t. I can use someone, anyone, at this point.

A kid walks in wearing headphones, takes one look at us, then promptly turns around and walks back out.

“I don’t have anything else to wear.”

“Just take it off and wait a minute, okay? I’ll be right back.”

For a second she glances at the shirt. Of course, it’s another of Uncle Robert’s. It says “All Cats Are Grey” and has a faded-out shadow on it. On the back is a picture of the band The Cure. “I really liked that shirt,” Poe says.

She leaves me standing there, clueless. Suddenly I’m no longer thinking about Gus. I’m wondering why Poe decided to break her vow of silence.

When she comes back carrying a black T-shirt, she wonders why I haven’t taken off my shirt. I do so with a bit of reluctance. I’m not the guy who loves being on the skins team. I’m pale and don’t work out and have a nice collection of moles and freckles. I’m dripping on my bare chest and jeans as I take the shirt from her.

“That’s all I have, but it’s a guy’s large. You know me—I like wearing oversized stuff.”

It’s a long-sleeved black T-shirt with the words
Sorry if I looked interested. I’m not.

I look at myself in the mirror. My hair sopping wet, my face still lined with remnants of salad dressing, my pants and shoes speckled as well.

Poe laughs. “I love the shirt.”

“What are you doing?”

“I can only go so far.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You need some new friends,” Poe says. “I might not have a heart to loan out, but I’m not heartless either.”

I’m standing there looking at her, still confused. “Look—just—”

Then she bursts out in laughter.

It’s nice to see a smile on her face. Underneath the eyeliner and lipstick and all that other stuff she’s hiding behind, Poe’s actually really pretty.

“What did I do to you?” I ask her.

“It’s done. I’m over it. Plus, Joss is getting on my nerves lately. It’s fine, really.”

For a second I thought she said
Joss is getting on my nerves lately.

She’s talking about someone else.

Something or someone that rhymes with Joss.

Either that or she’s crazy.

“Just return the shirt to me after you wash it, okay? And Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“Just—just take care of yourself. Okay?”

She leaves me in the bathroom, still wet, still smelly, and still totally confused.

As I head to my locker, I see Newt there with my books. He wants to say something, but I just shake my head. He doesn’t have to. This is a sad boat we’re in. I never thought I’d be in any kind of boat with Newt, but here I am.

“What are you going to do?” he asks.

“Finish my conversation.”

“With whom?”

“With you.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“What’d you find?”

“Just some Word documents.”

“Did you read them?”

Newt shakes his head. “The less I know, the better.”

“So, do you have them here?”

Newt opens his locker and produces a file folder. It’s got twenty or so pages in it.

“You didn’t read any of it?”

“The first page,” he says. “Then I got a bit scared and stopped.”

“What about your friend?”

“Trust me. He won’t tell anybody. Last thing he wants or needs is to get into more trouble.”

I take the folder and head to my next class.

I suddenly have a thousand more reasons why I hate this place.