Miyu's Wish (19 page)

“Rejoin. In a dream, my other self said that’s when I’ll return.”

“Yes honey,” she murmured, her eyes now bright red. “To that boy apparently, and probably sooner than later. I’m not privy to how it actually works, but when the moment is almost upon us, we’ll both somehow sense it.”

We sat in grim silence for a while, but I had so much I
needed
to share—I began confessing almost everything. I recounted the weird conversation with Keil, the disturbing meeting with Mabel, even the letters from Rraman. It was exhausting, but also cleansing; I let myself sag backward into Auntie’s arms, and she cradled me thoughtfully.

“Child, I’m sorry you’ve suffered so. It seems your life is indeed accelerating toward a sort of climax, so to speak, and I can only hope for the best ending possible.” She kissed me on the back of the head. “I know so little, truly. I’ve been left mostly to myself in raising you, and for a time, I even dared hope my arrangement with the stranger had been forgotten.”

She squeezed me tighter. “I’m not sure what your true destiny is or what you’re really supposed to do, but I can guess it concerns helping others, perhaps your friends. And that’s what makes you special—your enduring optimism, your sweet nature, your knack for befriending anyone. Qualities and abilities, of course, I’ve tried to cultivate as I raised you. Maybe a little too closely, which is why I was so reluctant early on to let you spend time alone with friends I had never met.” She paused, looking conflicted. “That Mabel woman you mentioned, I’m not sure who she might be or if she should be trusted, but if there is a way…”

I turned around and looked up at her. “What Auntie, what?”

She peered at me helplessly and suddenly began to cry.
She never cried.

“Never mind. I’m being selfish,” she said tremulously, clutching my face. “I just don’t want to lose you. You’ve been my whole purpose for living; what is left for me when you’re gone?”

I clutched her, my own tears raining down. “I don’t want to leave!”

She rocked me slowly in her arms as we both despaired, and then she spoke softly in my ear. “Do you know why I always had you call me ‘aunt’?”

I shook my head with a barely audible murmur.

“It’s because I was told to; the stranger said it would help make our separation easier in the end. But I always hated that.” She caressed my left cheek. “I’m your mother,
not
your aunt—forever and always. You understand?”

I gazed deeply into her face, proudly declaring what was always in my heart. “
Mom
…I love you.”

She touched her forehead to mine. “And I love you, my daughter.”

We could have cried all day, but the sounds of kids bounding into the park informed us it was time to leave. And yet, I still had my own confession to make.

“Mom…I read some of those weird e-mails you wrote about me.”

Her eyes stretched in mild surprise. “You know about those? How?”

I just shook my head. There was no point in answering.

She pursed her lips, but then sighed and put her arm around me. “For the last year, the stranger has required me to update him on anything notable in your growth or behavior, but he has never explained why. And he never writes back unless, on rare occasions, he has a task for me to fulfill. He was, for example, the reason we moved away from our old home and came to live here.”

“Is he also the one who took the pictures you have showing on your computer?”

She bit her lip. “That’s something else I can’t discuss.”

“But does he ever tell you how I’m doing? If I’m accomplishing what he wants of me?”

“No, but whatever it is you’re supposed to achieve, I can’t imagine you failing. And when in doubt, I’ve always taught you to pray. Have you been doing that?”

I frowned. “I just don’t know
who
to pray to.”

She smiled. “Does it matter? God is God.”

As we approached the car, I mentioned I needed some new bras. She looked puzzled for a moment, and then gazed down at
my voluminous chest. Her left eye began twitching, and I knew she had finally noticed.

“Why do they keep growing?” she asked, sounding almost hysterical as she gawked at them. “
He
never mentioned anything like this happening! I don’t know if your little body can handle much more!”

“I’m not sure, but I’ll manage. It’s probably the last time,” I insisted, trying to reassure her. I couldn’t lie to myself, though; I liked them. They made me feel more mature, more womanly,
a little more like Kimberly
. My heart did a little skip.

And so we spent the afternoon shopping until I had a nice collection of extra-support brassieres to get me through the week. We then went to see a movie, had a nice supper, and finally returned home content but tired. After thanking Mom for being such a peach, I hustled upstairs to finish up some homework and then soak in the tub. By the time I changed into my pajamas, I longed only for sleep.

But my phone vibrated, revealing a message from Marlene; she wanted to know how the sleepover had gone. I fibbed that it had been merely OK, and wished her a good night.

I sighed with a wistful smile. Marlene could be so sweet, and sometimes I just wanted to squeeze her forever. I had to find a way to get her and Kimberly speaking again; who knows, perhaps they were among the reasons I was here. On a whim, I stepped out onto my balcony and let the chilly air clear my head. The night was icy but pristine, with a glorious, full moon illuminated
against a black-velvet sky. Stars were scattered everywhere, and I suddenly felt inspired. Folding my hands together and raising them to my chest, I prayed with wide, tender eyes to the God I hoped was listening.

Please help me succeed in what I’m meant to do.

I paused, feeling a desperate, yearning hand reach out from the depths of my soul.

And please, let me keep this life. Don’t let me disappear. Please.

Chapter Twenty-Five

A
nother week passed. As before, my newly inflated assets had me concerned of unwanted attention, but I needn’t have worried. December was nearly upon us, which meant upcoming midterms, parties, vacations, and the big Christmas Ball. I was easily forgotten amid all the excitement.

And I had my own pending plans. Upon waking one morning, I decided the time was right for a party of my own.

“Really? I can have any party I want?” I asked as we drove off to school.

“Of course, honey. Just let me know when,” came Mother’s simple reply.

I cheered and pulled her toward me, planting a kiss on her cheek and almost causing us to careen off the road.

“Miyu!”

“Sorry,” I blushed.

She gave me an exasperated glance and kept driving. “How were you ever once a
boy
?”

“Mom!”

“Sorry,” she muttered dryly. “It just kind of slipped out.”

Once she dropped me off, I immediately sought out Marlene and Tamara and told them about the upcoming event. They seemed pleased, but upon their usual grilling for details, I realized I had nothing else to tell them.

“I’ll get back to you,” I told them as I scampered off to Math.

What kind of party, what kind of party,
I wondered throughout the rest of the day. I needed a special motif, or at least something fun and grand to do. And it couldn’t be a sleepover; as wonderful as having the girls at my place would be, it wouldn’t compare to the grandiose time we had at Marlene’s. And I really wanted mine to be special. One they would never forget.

Inspiration finally struck during Art class. We were at the table working with pastels now, and both Mary Beth and Liz were smearing colors together in a vain attempt to duplicate a sunset.

“It’s hopeless,” Mary moaned. “It looks hideous.”

I glanced up from my own work on a sunny, little ranch and patted her with the clean side of my hand. “You’re off to a good start. It looks fine.”

“No it’s not,” she muttered miserably. “It looks more like the fallout radiation from a nuclear bomb than a sunset.”

“Um, OK,” I said, not really liking the morbid thought. “Then just tell Mrs. Scribbs it’s the aftermath of an atomic war.”

Mary regarded me wryly, and we both laughed.

“At least
you
have brains to compensate,” Lizzie interjected from our right. She watched Mary Beth with a churlish expression, and then glanced at her own piece. “My grades stink, and I’m no artist either. I’m not good at anything.”

Her sudden verbosity left us astounded.

“Liz, grades don’t measure self-worth, and not everyone can be artistic,” Mary said seriously. She walked over with a sympathetic smile, but Liz ignored her and pulled out a book.

Mary pursed her lips. “Lizzie, don’t be that way.”

I watched them, studying their plain, unremarkable faces, and then glanced at their likewise bland pieces of art. Altogether, they reminded me of two unadorned flags—easily overlooked or forgotten, but ripe with potential—and I wondered if they, too, needed my help.

“Liz, Mary, do either of you wear makeup?”

They both looked at me oddly.

“No…not really,” Mary replied awkwardly. Liz, shaking her head, simply resumed reading.

“Well,” I continued, “it’s just that, applying makeup is kind of like what we’re doing here in Art, but with blushes and creams instead of pastels and paints. If you could do one, I bet you could do the other.”

Mary Beth looked baffled, while Liz continued reading. But I gave a bounce of excitement. They had given me the idea I needed.

The bell rang, and I hurried off to Biology. I had my party idea, but now worried it might be a little too lavish for my mother’s tastes. Pondering her reaction, I failed to notice Clarence rounding a corner and plowed right into him.

“Oh Miyu, I’m sorry!” he said, looking mortified.

I had fallen against his chest and—embarrassed—I tried pushing away, his body like granite to the touch. Seeing I needed help, he took hold of my shoulders and leaned me back slowly onto my feet. I noticed his muscles bulge from under his sleeves.

“It’s OK, it’s my fault,” I said quickly, blowing a wave of hair from my face. “I’m just a little distracted.”

He responded with a good-natured shrug, and we continued on to Biology together. But I felt like a stick bug walking beside him. We rarely saw each other outside of class, and standing next to him now, he seemed more like a football player than the geeky genius I had always known.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, noticing me staring.

“Oh…no,” I said, blushing slightly. “You just seem larger to me somehow, I guess.”

He chuckled. “Well, it’s probably the weight training. I’m trying to do something about all this extra poundage.” He patted his stomach. “Do I really look different? I’ve only been going at
it for about six weeks.” He spoke enthusiastically, and I couldn’t help but giggle.

“Yep, it’s definitely beginning to show,” I replied approvingly. “But what made you decide to start working out in the first place? You don’t seem the type.”

He seemed embarrassed. “Let’s just say I’ve been inspired.”

I watched him with fascination, my eyes drinking him in. His face had traded some of its natural plumpness for a more chiseled profile, and his arms were like the trunks of two small trees.
How hadn’t I noticed this before?

“What?” he asked, looking a little uneasy as I continued to stare.

I glanced away and ran my fingers through my hair, letting it flow behind my face. “It’s just that…you’re always so full of surprises. I’m not even sure I know you anymore.” I feigned a pouty look.

“Sometimes people just change,” he said, looking at me meaningfully. “Maybe because they want something they couldn’t have had otherwise.”

His statement made my pulse spike; I reached over and squeezed his upper arm in a playful manner, finding my dainty fingers barely able to wrap even halfway around. “Clarence, whatever you’re doing, you look great. Keep it up.” I smiled up at him intently, observing his face burn a soft red. We had reached the classroom. Looking grateful for the distraction, he leapt out ahead of me.

“Here, let me get the door.”