Heartless (8 page)

Anyway, I’ll call when I get a new phone. Until then, x’s and o’s to you and Daddy.

Love, Jo

Oh, I’m SO glad you’re not upset with me. Daddy and I are on our way to the spa for a couple’s massage, hee hee. He actually has the day off, can you believe it? Have a great Sunday, honey.

Love, Mom

Eli,

We need to talk. Something happened after I left the other night. Are you at your place today?

Jo

P.S. I’m not missing! Quit calling the cops on me. Freak!

Jo!

Jesus Christ, girl, where have you been? Why didn’t you call me back? Sorry about the cops, one of ’em came by and read me the riot act. He was a total dick. I was glad to hear you’re alive, though. I really was worried. We should talk about the other night.

I’m at the apartment. Be here working on a paper all day, at least until tonight when the bars open, hahaha. Come on by.

E

Jo1995: Long weekend. Lost phone. Bunked down with @LucyGoosie. Will catch up on emails soon. #crazyday

LucyGoosie: @Jo1995, you can bunk down with me any day…except for right now. You smell.

Jo1995: @LucyGoosie, hush.

EliPete21: @Jo1995, good to have you back among the living. Sorry about the other night. See you soon.

I
snapped my computer shut, suddenly aware of the weight of the prior twenty-four hours. Even though I’d been unable to close my eyes the night before, like a girl strung out on caffeine or cocaine, as I sat at my desk my eyes grew heavy and my thoughts grew thick.

I tried to stand but couldn’t, trapped by the weight of muscles that no longer listened to my instructions. My arms moved as though through water, and then molasses. I shook my head to clear it of the storm of cobwebs that had gathered in an instant.

“Luce?” I called, my thick tongue moving through a cotton mouth. “
Luth?
”

She poked her head into the room. I tried again to rise from my chair, but once I reached my feet my knees gave way beneath me and I tumbled forward, crashing into the desk and then falling to the floor.

“Oh my God, Jo! What’s wrong?”

I hit the ground on my hands and knees, crawling like a baby to my friend. “Something’s not right.” My words came out slow and slurred. I crept toward her, crashing into my desk chair and rolling to the side. “I think I’m shutting down.”

Lucy dropped to the ground and pulled my upper body into her lap. The towel fell from my head and she brushed my hair back from the cracking green mask. “What should we do?”

In her lap, I shrugged, my shoulders a thousand pounds each. “Maybe I’m dying,” I said. The thought came slowly. “Maybe my battery’s running out.”

Only it sounded more like, “Maybe my batryth runnin ow…”

“Battery?” Lucy looked down at me, her upside-down face looming over mine. “Oh my gosh, we need to charge you!”

“What?”

“When you woke up, you said you were attached to something from the back, right? That’s a plug. You were plugged in! We need to plug you in and charge you!”

The light bulb in my brain flickered, but it was dim at best. “Can you plug me in?”

Her face fell. “I can’t. The wire was torn off, remember?”

“Can’t you hook it up somehow?”
Can oo hoo ugh thumhow?

“Do I look like an electrician all of a sudden? I don’t even own a soldering gun!”

“You can splice it!”
Thplithe it.

“What?”

I was really starting to slow down. I wanted to talk fast, but instead I drawled, “I don’t know, tie it together.”

“I don’t know what you’re saying.” Her voice rose an octave. “I’m losing you, I can feel it!”

I stared at her. Even slower, I said, this time clear as day, “I don’t want to be lost.” I leaned forward out of her lap then pulled myself across the floor, tortoise-like. I felt the synapses in my brain, each one, firing slower and slower until they barely sputtered. My goal was only inches away, though. I was almost close enough.

One more tug and I was there, at the wall. I yanked out the computer charger that took up the whole electrical socket, then reached my hand out and closed my eyes. I touched the socket; a current flowed out, into my finger. I pushed harder against the holes. As though it was made of clay, my finger squished in on itself, sliding deeper to press harder into the warm electric wave.

Lucy screamed, and the lights surged in the room. I felt the first true sensation I’d felt since waking up on that cold metal table. I felt warmth.

Electricity flowed through my finger, up my arm, then through my entire body. My brain came back to life, synapses shooting off fireworks of color and light behind my eyelids. My toes tingled and the remaining hairs on my arms and legs stood upright.

I stayed attached to the wall socket for five minutes, until I finally felt like I’d be steady on my feet. I pulled away, ignoring the singed and smoldering skin left behind on the plastic, ignoring the blackened bits remaining on my hand, and turned to Lucy. She’d stopped screaming after the first power surge, but looked pale and nauseated, so I smoothed the hair on my head back down and tried to smile. “I feel better now,” I said. The mask on my face crumbled to dust around my mouth.

“I’m glad,” she said, panting. She leaned back against the wall, her knees and hands shaking, and she nodded her head.

“Thanks.”

“I thought I’d lost you.”

“Me, too. Maybe we should fix my cord? I think I messed up my fingers doing it the digital way.” I tried another green smile.

“Digital?”

“Yeah, digital.” I wagged my fingers. “Digits. Get it?”

“I got it. It’s just not funny.”

“I know.” I changed the subject. “I heard from my mom. She emailed, panicking. But I calmed her down.”

“Good.” She patted my head. The crackle of static electricity was loud in the thin, dry air.

“I heard from Eli, too.”

Lucy sat up straight, popping back to life. “Eli. Right. We need to go see him. Come on, get up. Let’s get you cleaned up!”

“A
re you sure?” I said to Lucy. I was nervous.

She looked at my face, her mouth in a tight line, considering. After a minute she said, “Well, I don’t think I can get you to look much better, honestly. Your skin looks less pasty, and most of the stitches are under your sunglasses. Everything else is covered up. You still don’t look right, but I just don’t know what else to do for you. I’m not exactly a makeup artist.”

I nodded. She was right; Lucy barely wore any makeup. Ever. She was gorgeous enough without it.

We stood in my room in front of the long mirror. It had taken me the better part of two hours to scrub my body clean so Lucy could no longer smell me from across the room. I’d have to be careful when washing moving forward, though. My skin was starting to slough off in some spots, especially near my hands and feet, leaving dry, crusty-looking sores. They were just more flaws I’d have to keep hidden, since I didn’t have much hope of healing on my own. The fewer spots with missing skin, the longer I could pass for normal. Based on the speed with which I was falling apart, I probably wouldn’t have a lot of time.

“But am I doing the right thing?”

“I think earlier today you had two choices.” Lucy held my hand, tucked into an old glove. “You could have gone to a hospital or the police, and they would have helped you in one way, right?” I wasn’t sure, but I thought her voice sounded thick, choked up. Like she was trying not to cry. “Instead you came home to me. You’re my best friend, and someone did this to you, and we’re going to find out who, and why, and how to fix it. And whoever did this to you did it after you left Eli’s on Wednesday night. So we start at Eli’s. Together this time. You and me. We’ll get you fixed, even if it kills us. Right?”

For the hundredth time since waking up the day before, I wanted to cry. When the tears still wouldn’t come, when I couldn’t even summon a deep enough breath to sound convincing, I threw my arms around Lucy’s neck. Something crackled in my shoulder as I did it, but it didn’t hurt. I felt the pressure of her arms going around my waist. “I love you, Luce,” I whispered in her ear.

“You smell,” she said. “Still. But I love you too.” She pulled away. “Let’s do this.”

I
t was cold outside. Bitingly, disarmingly cold, from the way Lucy’s head jerked back as if slapped when we walked out the front door of Calvin Hall. The girl at the front desk had gone, leaving a cute upper-class guy who lived a few floors above us. He nodded as we passed, as if nothing was out of the ordinary, so I congratulated myself and Lucy, silently, on cleaning me up so well.

But I couldn’t feel the cold outside. I felt nothing. Lucy’s cheeks, exposed between her sunglasses and scarf, turned an immediate and alarming shade of pink. “I think my nose is going to get frostbitten on the way over,” she gasped, covering it with a mittened hand.

“If it does, we can fix it,” I said. “As soon as we fix me, first. Your nose should be a piece of cake after that.”

“Hilarious. Really.” She groaned. “It’s a long walk to Clove.” I saw her resolve freezing with the rest of her. “I might not make it.”

The Clove Street off-campus apartments were about a mile away, which was nothing on warmer days, but certainly significant in sub-zero temperatures. We’d only gone two steps.

“If you want to go back upstairs, I won’t be mad,” I said. “I get it, it’s cold. I can do this on my own.”

“It’s just that I’m not lucky enough to be a walking corpse like you,” she said, and then she paused and looked at me. I didn’t have to say anything. Her cheeks, already raw and chapped from the harsh wind, turned even redder. “Sorry. You know I hate the cold. It makes me say stupid things. Let’s go.”

It was pushing lunchtime and the campus was fully alive and teeming with students as we trudged through the snow toward Clove. Winter track team members braved the elements to get in their daily workout. People walked to the library, burdened with overstuffed backpacks and unwieldy jackets. Intrepid shoppers carried grocery bags filled with Ramen noodles and Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.

“Oooh, macaroni,” whispered Lucy. “Can we stop at the dining hall real quick? I haven’t eaten. You should probably eat…never mind.” She looked down at her hands. “We don’t have to stop.”

But I nodded and tried to look encouraging, though inside I was feeling restless, like we were wasting time. Still, I knew from experience that if cold made Lucy grumpy, hunger turned her into a raging bitch. “You should eat, for sure. I’ll wait for you.”

We changed course and headed to the nearest dining area, a little pizza joint called the Rat in the basement of the student center. Their food was greasy and kind of gross, but also kind of amazing, and I knew how much Lucy loved their macaroni and cheese. Plus, being in the basement, it was dimly lit, so I could sit back in a corner and blend in with the exposed-brick walls. I hoped.

Lucy took the steps down two at a time, but I followed more carefully. I noticed the popping and crackling noises of my joints grew louder with each step. They crunched. They snapped.
How long is this body going to keep working?
I wondered.

Lucy bounded straight for the pizza counter, where the macaroni bubbled under a plastic-looking sheen within the circle of the heat lamp; I turned and headed for a table in the darkest corner. I slumped down in a chair, my legs stretched straight underneath the table so as to not strain my joints. The less I moved, the better, I figured. I pulled my sunglasses off for a second, but when I remembered the stitches in my face I put them back on again.

The dining hall filled rapidly with students coming in for lunch. Two girls sat at the table beside me, carrying binders and textbooks and wearing lots of makeup. A few days earlier, I’d have fit right in with them. Now, I was a pariah. They sniffed at the air like little puppies, then made faces and left, each giving me a nervous glance as they walked away. I stared at them and smiled.

Minutes passed. Most people in the area had similar reactions to my scent—what I dubbed the gag-face-run-away—and I was starting to garner some unwanted attention. By the time Lucy walked over with her plate of mac and cheese, I felt like the whole room was staring at me.