M.I.N.D. (15 page)

“You're being ridiculous. I don't even tell my own boyfriend everything.”

“Apparently,” I say.

“Are you saying you wouldn't mind if I told him about your brain-train? How you travel out of your body and play the voyeur?”

“That's
my
secret,” I say. “It's not yours to tell.”

“Right. Extenuating circumstances.” She slams the metal door and throws on the lock. “Where do you get off being so self-righteous? I have news for you. You gave up that privilege when you pretended to be Stephanie so you could swallow Zack's tongue. You know what else? I'm sick to death of your preaching. You want to live other people's lives? Go ahead, knock yourself out. Just don't tell me how to live mine.”

Please. Like she doesn't dole out advice? Wasn't she the one who encouraged me to keep jumping? “It's not like you control the rabbits,” she said, but now she's acting like I'm committing a crime.

Am I?

If a tree falls in the forest, is it so wrong?

She spins the combination dial and takes off down the hallway, leaving me wondering what just happened. It's not my fault her plan fell through. Yet somehow she managed to turn it all around and make me the villain.

***

I have no desire to spend another lunch hour hiding in the bathroom, since it's so juvenile, not to mention unsanitary, so I take my broiled tofu outside and head for the bleachers. I see Ethan on the bottom row. I want to talk to him, but I'm not sure the feeling is mutual.

“Hi,” I say, taking my chances. “You ditching?” Like Josh, he has senior lunch.

“It's just calculus,” he says in a flat voice. “I'm not in the mood.”

I let my heart overtake my fear and sit down next to him. A gentle breeze rustles through the trees, the sun soft and warm on my skin. In the distance, the senior girls' soccer team is practicing maneuvers, their boisterous voices lifting through the air.

“I'm sorry, Ethan. About the hit-and-run thing,” I clarify. “What I said was insensitive. I want you to know, if there's anything I can do, with Amanda in the hospital and all, you can count on me. I know what you're going through, and I want to help. I want us to be friends.” Friends, yes, but I want more than that. I thought he did too. I hope he still does.

He turns to look at me, his eyes filled with pain. “Don't do that. Don't pretend to know how I'm feeling.”

“The thing is, I do know,” I say softly. “It hurts. It hurts a lot.”

“She's not dead,” he says coldly.

“I didn't mean—”

“What were you doing in there?” he asks abruptly.

“Excuse me?”

“Your psychology class. Vardina said you had Zack on his knees.”

Huh. Word sure gets around fast in this place. And since when does Ethan consult with Vardina? I picture her jumping up and down on the football field, her body parts bouncing merrily, an inspiration to the team. (By the way, I'm looking up and to the right, trying to visualize the scene.) What is it with guys and cheerleaders? Are not even geeks immune? Should I be worried? (Now I'm looking down, signifying emotion.)

“It was my project,” I explain. “Kinesics. You know, body language? He put a frog in her towel. What's the big deal?”

“The big deal is, I know what you were up to. If you're so sorry, why are you pursuing this? If this is some kind of game, it's really sick.”

“I'm not playing games,” I murmur. “It was an experiment.”

“Josh told me that the police brought Zack in for questioning. Did you honestly believe you could do a better job? Admit it, Cass. You already told me your suspicions. It's not like I'm pulling this out of a hat. You were trying to trip him up—and Amanda, by default, since she was with him the night it happened.” His mouth trembles. “What kind of person accuses someone who can't defend herself? She's in a coma, for God's sake.”

I don't say anything. What
can
I say?

How can I tell him that I saw her after the bus crash—but it wasn't here on earth? That I'm doing this for her? That I believe, that I
feel
, she wants me to uncover the truth?

That it might all be a load of boo-loony, but I just can't stop.

When Amanda started dating Brendan, I knew she was headed for trouble, but not once did I ever try to approach her. Who did she think she was, dumping me like that? That day in the parking lot, I knew she needed help, and I ignored her then too. But what if I hadn't? What if I'd gone over? Would she be where she is now?

I bite down on my lip to keep from crying. She's not the only one filled with guilt.

Ethan's eyes soften. “Aw, hell. Look, tell me I'm an idiot. Tell me I'm wrong, and I'll believe you. Just say the words, Cassie. That's all I need.”

Silence in itself can be an answer.

He shakes his head. “Now I'm the one who's sorry. I thought we were friends.”

The lump in my throat is the size of an apple. According to Leanne, I'm a hypocrite and a pervert. Not to mention judgmental. And now Ethan thinks I'm a cold-blooded bitch.

He picks up his backpack and walks away.

The verdict is in. Guilty as charged.

Thirteen

Go Ask Alice

“You should talk to her,” Vardina shouts over the bass reverberating in her ears. “You won't be happy until you do. What did she do to make you so mad?”

As though totally engrossed in the light show, Ethan stares straight ahead. He gives her hand a gentle squeeze.

“It's okay,” she says, squeezing back. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”

“I…I'm just not ready.” He squeezes again. “Thanks for understanding.”

I assume it's me they're talking about. Obviously I'm on Vardina's mind, or I wouldn't have been able to jump into her body. The question is, why is she even there, let alone holding his hand? It should be
me
who's standing next to him.
My
hand he's squeezing. What's with all this squeezing anyway?

This all started yesterday at lunch. It was Friday and Leanne and I still weren't talking, our longest freeze ever. Because of the rain, I couldn't take my lunch outside, so there I was, conspicuously friendless, venturing into the cafeteria when Vardina noticed me. To my relief, she gave me her toothy smile and motioned for me to come over.

We talked about school, her summer, and cheerleading. Before I knew it, we were talking about the Cora Wood concert and how I'd give anything to go but had other plans. (Other plans? Ha. More like issues, namely Amanda and strobe lights, not to mention the warden.) Vardina shook her head sadly, patted my hand, and then told me, all in one breath, that Josh had scalped his two extra tickets—
my
tickets, thank you very much—to Todd Metzger from Chess Club, but then Todd got mono and now he can't go, and since he's loaded and doesn't need the money, he gave the tickets to Ethan, thinking Ethan needed some cheering up. She paused briefly for air and then dropped the bomb. She said that Ethan had asked her to go with him. Dumbstruck, I just sat there giving her my
how wonderful!
smile when all I wanted to do was shrink down to the size of a soybean.

I would have given my soul to go to this concert, and to go with Ethan, I would have wrapped it in tissue paper and tied it with a ribbon, which probably explains how I got to go after all, though not in the normal sense. Trusting me not to sneak out of the house (again, in the normal sense), my mother went to some snooze art show, leaving me in front of the TV in the family room, alone with my misery and an endive salad. And that's when it happened. I was watching
Ghost
for the hundredth time while lamenting the fact that Vardina was out with
my
crush, at
my
concert, when out of the blue came the scent of lilac. Well, that answers that, I thought. I can jump long distance. At least to Danbury. Then I figured, since I'm already here, why not stay and enjoy the show?

“I'm really glad you asked me here tonight,” Vardina yells over the music. “I just love Cora. She's totally magical.”

Magical doesn't begin to describe Cora Wood, with her soul-filled voice and amazing guitar. Wearing a shimmering red tunic over shiny gold tights, her platinum-blond hair whipping around her neck, she's strumming her stuff like she means business. Everyone is standing and cheering, unless they're dancing in the aisles, or getting squashed into stick people in front of the stage. Girls in stripper outfits, emos and rockers, skinny jeans and hot T-shirts, bright weird hats, buckets of sweat—the air here is so charged it defies the laws of gravity. Speaking of which, what's with all these bodies floating by, getting passed from fan to fan? Crowd surfing, stage diving, head bashing—and I was worried about strobe lights?

Josh signals something to Ethan, and Ethan nods. “It's almost intermission,” he shouts to Vardina. He makes a drinking motion with his hand. “We'll meet you girls in the lobby. We're going to try to beat the lines.”

Now that's what I call chivalry. I'm not surprised about Ethan, but Josh? Maybe he just acts nice when he's out with others, though I really can't be sure. This is the first time I've double-dated with him, in a manner of speaking.

Cora belts out her raspy rendition of “Girls Get Going” and the crowd goes wild. A tingling shoots through Vardina, all the way to her toes. Every cell in her body wants to move and she can't resist. Neither can I, obviously. She leaps into the aisle to dance by herself, cheerleader style, and it's rah-rah-rah, go team go! And I'm right there with her, every step of the way.

It feels so great to cut loose, to completely let go without the fear that I might suddenly start seizing. Yeah, I know. It's really Vardina's body that's gyrating to the rhythm. But it's
my
courage I'm feeling.
My
bliss.
My
freedom. I'll never make fun of cheerleading again.

The song comes to a close, and now everyone is piling into the aisles, rushing to get to the lobby. “Leanne, over here!” Vardina calls as she's pushed ahead by a stampede of fans. Narrowly escaping getting knocked over, she ducks back into a row to wait for Leanne.

“How're you doing, Lerner?”

It's Brendan, and he's maneuvered his way to Leanne. A sour taste rises in Vardina's throat, like grapefruit gone bad.

“I knew it was you,” he says to Leanne as Vardina falls back in line behind them. “There I was, surfing above the crowd, when I looked down and said to myself, ‘Hey, there's Lerner, and she doesn't look happy.' What's the matter?” he asks, wrapping his arm around her well-concealed shoulder. “Your halfback been dropping the ball?”

What was she thinking, wearing that outfit? Who wears a shawl? She looks like a grandmother. What happened to that slinky, chic dress that's too short for prom?

“Lose the loser,” he says, letting his hand ride down her back. “We can continue where we left off at the carnival. We can take a little ride of our own.”

“In your dreams,” she says, and shoves him off.

If this was my own head, it would be spinning. Leanne was at that carnival? Here I go again, but WHY DIDN'T SHE TELL ME?

At the top of the aisle, Vardina moves in beside him. “Well, look who's back on the ground,” she says as they step into the corridor. “I heard you were here with Michelle Monroe. What did you do, send her off to buy the drinks so you could go trolling?”

At the sound of her voice, Brendan stops in place. He has that look on his face, like he's been caught with his fly down.

Leanne grabs Vardina's arm. “Let's go,” she says, steering her away. “The air here suddenly got foul. Oh, and FYI? I resent the implication that I'm some kind of a troll.”

“So it
was
you,” Vardina says as they exit into the lobby. “I saw the two of you talking at the carnival.” Her lips twist into a smirk. “Except it looked like he had more on his mind than talking. Either he's either really brave or he has a death wish.”

“Neither,” Leanne says, nervously looking around. “Josh wasn't there. So don't go blabbing about it. And I don't want you mentioning what happened here either.”

This is getting better by the second. Leanne, who
are
you?

Vardina raises one eyebrow. How does she do that? How does anyone? Whenever I try, both brows always shoot up together. “Really,” she says. “And why not, pray tell?”

“I mean it,” Leanne says. “Not a word, not even to your boyfriend. You know how it goes. He promises not to say anything but tells Josh anyway, and before you know it, Josh is turning Brendan into dog meat. You wouldn't want to be responsible for that, would you?”

Boyfriend?
Even more worrisome than dog meat, is Ethan Vardina's boyfriend?

“I guess not,” Vardina says, sounding unsure in her own ears. But then she sees Ethan, and suddenly she's back in Rah-Rah Land, smiling all over herself, waving her arms, jumping up and down. “Ethan!” she calls. “Over here!”

Balancing a large cardboard tray, he carefully makes his way to Vardina. Josh is forging ahead of him, pushing through the crowd like a tank. “For you, my lady,” Ethan says, handing Vardina a Cherry Coke. “Your favorite.”

He knows her favorite drink? Omigod, he
is
her boyfriend.

“Thank you, sir,” she says, smiling.

“I forgot my ID,” Josh grumbles. “Leanne, go get me a beer. Here's a twenty. Don't forget the change.”

She smiles brightly, then takes off for the bar. Say hello to Ashley Morgenstein, her fake alter ego.

***

The first song after the break is a ballad, a real change for Cora. Ethan asks Vardina to dance. His arms go around her waist; her arms go around his neck. She looks up at the stage, butterflies flitting in her stomach. It's sheer anguish, since I'm acutely aware that it's not me he's holding. And yet I stay. Nothing could tear me out of his arms.

Then something shifts. Vardina gets an achy feeling all through her body, and a tear runs down her face. She pulls out of Ethan's arms and goes back to her seat.

He sits down next to her. “I know,” he says softly. “I figured it out.”

He knows? What does he know?

Wait. Is he talking about her leg carvings?

“It's not a bad thing,” he says. “It's really okay.”

Excuse me? He's obviously talking about something else. Isn't he?

Her mouth twitches. “You don't know anything.”

Neither do I, apparently.

***

The final encore has ended, the last bows taken. All the lights are blazing, a cue that it's time to vacate the premises. Since I have no desire to stick around and subject myself any further to the blossoming romance between my new crush and Vardina, it's my cue to leave too. Or rather, it would have been. I've just learned that along with the four free tickets, Josh's father managed to snag backstage passes.

So here I am, five minutes later, still lurking inside Vardina's head. We're hobnobbing backstage with a throng of media people, other passholders, and the rest of the band's entourage, when suddenly we hear Cora scream, “Can you just leave me alone?”

All heads turn.

“Remind me, Darren,” she says, “what exactly is it you do? Because as far as I can tell, you do nothing. I have to do everything myself.”

People are gawking, cameras are clicking. A short chunky man with a blue Mohawk smiles sheepishly. “Cora, honey, you're being rude.”

“You want rude? I'll show you rude.” She throws her drink to the floor and it shatters, ice cubes, an olive, and shards of glass piling at her feet. (Note the difference: backstage = glass, auditorium = plastic.) “Now you can finally make yourself useful. Get me another drink. I seem to have misplaced the one I had.”

“You have guests,” he grumbles, taking her arm. He smiles through his teeth. “Try to make nice.”

She shakes him off and stumbles, and guess who rushes to her side? My hero, Ethan, who catches her in the nick of time, preventing her from becoming filet à la diva.

She hiccups. “Hi, I'm Cora Wood. I hope you enjoyed, uh—” She stops in midsentence, struggling to remember what she was saying.

“The concert,” Ethan finishes for her. “I definitely enjoyed it,” he says, grinning from ear to ear. “I'm smitten with your work.”

Smitten? Who says
smitten
? Though considering the amount of cleavage going on, I doubt it's her work he's smiting.

“It was the best,” Josh says, all bug-eyed. “You have great boo…boots.”

Leanne turns purple and Vardina giggles.

A man in a dark blue suit and yellow rubber gloves brings out a mop and pail. Throwing darted looks in our direction, the short chunky guy mutters something to himself, but keeps his distance. The man in the suit starts in on the mess.

“Can I have your autograph?” ventures a cherub-faced girl with braces on her teeth. “I can't believe this is happening,” she says, all bubbly. “I've never won anything in my life, and here I am with a backstage pass, talking to you in person!”

“Cora's wooden rule,” Cora says, well, woodenly. She draws an imaginary circle in the air around the five (actually, six) of us. “See this orb? Do not enter unless invited.”

Not having a good day, are we? Maybe PMS? At least she's not running around stabbing people with coat hangers or doing whatever else divas in PMS do when not onstage. Still, I'm surprised. With the press here, you'd think she'd show a little restraint.

She sways to the left and then to the right, which results in some major jiggling. Ignoring the gathering group of curious onlookers, who no doubt are hoping she'll trip again so they can save her and consequently be invited into the circle, she smiles at Ethan and gives him the look.

Um, why is the queen of the rock world giving a high school senior (albeit an exceptional high school senior) the look? Forget PMS—can you say tanked? Not that I'm passing judgment. It has to be nerve-wracking getting up there and singing in front of a gazillion people. Still, hands off, slut!

“Wanna meet the girls?” she asks.

“Oh, I'd love to!” Vardina chirps, her eyes bulging out at the two backup singers.

“I'm not talking about those girls, honey,” Cora says in a slurry voice. “And I'm not talking to you.” She licks her bottom lip, and Ethan blushes.

Yes, blushes. Ethan, the blushing hero. Must stop this insanity at once! Unfortunately, it's not up to me. Believe me, if I had a voice, I'd be giving that woman a piece of my mind. Why doesn't Vardina
say
something? Cora is hitting on her date, and she just gapes? Again, why is he even with her? Why isn't he with me? He should be with me!

He stops blushing and the strangest thing happens.

I smell lilac.

WTF?

Usually, auras are caused by a misfiring in my brain. Problem is, I'm in Vardina's. She's a cutter, not a switshetsheliac. She can't smell something that isn't there. Yet another way jumping differs from switshetshela: The lilac I sense is all in my mind. But before I can ponder this further, before Cora can even finish tonguing her lip, I'm sucked out of Vardina and into…Ethan?