The Bodies We Wear (19 page)

“Listen to me.” Chael kneels down on the wet cement and puts his hands on the girl’s shoulders. She tries to yank away from him but he holds firm. “Look at me,” he says, and his voice sounds harder than usual.

The girl won’t look at him. There are tears in her eyes and her nose is running. Her face scrunches up tightly, her mouth puckering into a tiny rosebud. She looks down at the ground defiantly, her eyes holding firm on the mushy flyers. I stand beside them stupidly. I want to stop this. I want to grab Chael by the arm and pull him back. But I need to hear what he’s going to say. I think the girl does too.

“Look at me,” he repeats, and finally her eyes move up toward his. There are years of pain in those eyes. She’s different from the first time I saw her. She’s aged a lifetime in the course of a few weeks. Losing someone you love does that to you.

“Chael.” My voice is weak. “I don’t think you should—”

“You need to go home,” he says to the little girl, effectively cutting me off. “You need to give up this search. Your brother is gone. He’s dead. His soul is gone. There’s no bringing it back. I’m sorry but that’s the way things are.”

“You’re lying.”

“I wish I were,” he says. “But it’s the truth. Staying out here each night is only going to bring you more pain. I’m not who you think I am. You must believe this.”

She nods.

“Arnold must have been a good brother,” Chael says. “Obviously or you wouldn’t still be out torturing yourself every night. He’s gone and you need to move on.”

“But you’re him.” The girl is sobbing uncontrollably now. The tears and snot meet at her chin and the rainwater attempts to wash away the mess. Her eyes are bright red and she looks at me for only a second before returning her gaze to Chael.

“I’m his shell.”

I’m confused beyond belief. What are they seeing that I’m missing? There is a puzzle here and I’m missing a few pieces. Hell, I’m missing most of the box. I want to ask but hold back; better to wait until the whole ordeal is over.

The girl finally manages to get the sobs under control. She sniffs several times and I hand her a worn tissue that’s been in my jacket forever. She wipes her face.

“Did he suffer?” She hiccups and blinks at the same time.

Chael shakes his head. “I don’t believe he did.”

“Do you get to talk to him?”

“No. He’s gone someplace where I can’t follow.”

“Does he miss me?”

“I’ll bet he does.”

The girl gives a faint smile and I wonder where her umbrella is. This is the first time I’ve ever seen her without it. I can’t believe I didn’t notice until right now. She looks odd without it. Older.

“Are you an angel?”

Chael smiles. “Something like that.”

“Will you give him a message for me?”

“I can try.”

“Tell him I’m mad at him,” she says. “And I love him. I wish he could come home. I miss him.”

“I’ll do my best to pass it on.”

The girl sniffs a few more times and then she does something completely odd. She throws her arms around Chael, her tormenter, and holds on to him tightly. He doesn’t hug her back. I’m not sure if she notices.

“I think it’s best you go home now,” Chael finally says when he manages to pry her away.

“Okay,” she says. She turns and walks off, turning around several times to look back at us as she fades off into the distance. Chael stands up and watches her until she turns the corner. Only then does he look at me. The hardness is still in his eyes but there’s something else there too. Pain.

“Why does she think you’re her brother?”

Chael reaches out and takes my hand. He doesn’t say anything but starts walking. I have no choice but to follow. We cross the street and head down the block in the opposite direction. Finally, he stops in front of a pawnshop. He puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me toward the window.

There are security bars protecting the glass. Behind them is an arrangement of old guitars, electronic equipment, and mechanic tools. One of the video cameras is turned on and it’s feeding directly into a television.

“Look,” Chael says.

It takes me a moment to realize he’s talking about the television. The camera is directly on us and there are two bodies staring back. One of them is me. The other isn’t Chael.

It’s Arnold Bozek.

I turn and stare at Chael in amazement. The real flesh-and-blood Chael. His longish dark hair, dampened by the rain. His bright green eyes. Sharp cheekbones. Then I look back at the screen. There’s Arnold’s blond hair. His glasses. His cleft chin.

“What the hell?”

“I took his body,” Chael says. “When I came back. The real Arnold is gone. I’m in his shell. You’re the only person who sees me as Christian. Everyone else sees him.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know. It could be because you’re the only person who remembers me. Maybe you’re supposed to recognize me. If you’d seen Arnold, you wouldn’t have figured it out.”

“I would have eventually,” I say, but I doubt the words as they leave my mouth. The way Chael looks at me suggests he is thinking the same thing.

I look back at the camera and study the dead boy’s image. No wonder Paige didn’t have a clue what I was talking about when I asked her if she’d seen Chael. She saw something completely different. Arnold’s features aren’t nearly as attractive as Chael’s. He doesn’t stand out as much with his glasses and mousy hair. He probably went through life as someone no one remembered. A person quickly forgotten.

Except for a sister who misses him dearly.

“I’m sorry,” Chael says. He puts his arms around me and I watch Arnold Bozek place his chin on top of my head. I watch Arnold’s arms circle my waist, pressing against my jacket.

“It’s okay,” I say. “It’s weird, though.”

“It just didn’t seem that important,” Chael says. “I knew immediately that you were the only one seeing me for who I truly am.”

“How could you tell?”

“The way you first looked at me. You may not have realized it but you recognized me that first night. I saw it in your eyes. But your brain refused to believe. You needed time to work everything out.”

“I thought you were weird,” I say with a laugh. “You looked so out of place. You kept touching your face like you didn’t recognize the touch.”

“The bodies we wear,” he says. “They’re not the ones we always want. They get damaged. Used. It’s who we are on the inside that counts. The person waiting to jump free.”

I reach out and run my hand along my chest, feeling the scars beneath my shirt. Yes, I understand that all too well. What I wouldn’t give to wake up one morning and find myself in a new body. One that isn’t damaged.

But would it be worth it? Or would I end up like Chael, constantly touching my skin, wondering what feels wrong and why I can’t make it right.

“Come on,” he says softly. “I’ll take you home.”

Afterward, when he kisses me goodnight just outside the church doors, I can’t help reminding myself that those aren’t really his lips I’m kissing. Those aren’t his arms holding me tightly.

But the warmth is his. I’m sure of it. It may be a dead boy touching me, but it’s Chael’s energy that keeps me warm. His spirit.

He kisses me again and pushes his body against mine, pressing my back up against the bricks. I like this feeling of being trapped by his strength. It makes me feel secure. I don’t want it to end.

But my brain just won’t turn itself off, no matter how much I try to ignore the questions beating around inside my skull.

Finally, I force myself to draw back and look up at his eyes. He playfully leans down to brush his lips across my forehead. When he goes for my lips again, this time I turn my head. It’s not that I don’t want to; it’s just that I have to ask.

“How long can you stay like this? In this body. Isn’t it technically a loaner? When do you have to give it back?”

“I don’t know,” he says.

“That’s your answer to everything.”

“I didn’t exactly get an instruction manual.” Chael brushes a bit of my hair back from my face. His fingers are soft and wet from being in the rain. “Maybe I have forever, or maybe I just have tonight. I’m not going to waste it worrying about tomorrow. Right now, this moment.” He leans down and kisses me again. “This is all I need. Tomorrow is a million miles away.”

“But what happens when tomorrow comes?”

Chael nuzzles his face against my neck. His body is tense. I can feel his hard muscles pressing against my chest. He trembles slightly and that only makes me try to hold him tighter.

“We’ve got to appreciate what we’ve got, Faye,” he whispers into my ear. “No one knows how much time they have left. Let’s just enjoy every shiny moment.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“Even in death, we never truly get lost.”

I want to believe that so I will. At least tonight.

“You’re smiling again.”

I look up from the coloring book I’ve been doodling in for the past half hour. Beth is giving me a quizzical look.

“Am I?”

“Yes,” Beth says. She turns around in her chair and looks over at Chael, who is off in the corner trying to hold a conversation with a Heam abuser who is also a paraplegic. An addict who, two months ago, tried to take a short walk off a freeway overpass when he didn’t have any more money to get high. Even though he can no longer feel his body, he can still feel the urges. The last time I was here, I could hear him screaming from his room, begging anyone to help get him high—or put him out of his misery.

Chael insisted on coming with me today when I came to visit Beth. I made the mistake of telling him that Ramona suggested I’d be good in the therapy business and he wanted to see me at my best.

My best? Right. I can’t save a flea from an itchy cat.

“You’re happy,” Beth says without taking her eyes off of Chael. “He’s making you smile again.”

“Yes,” I say.

Beth picks up a green crayon from the table. Coloring is a bit young for her but she wanted to do it. She said it calms her and she enjoys it. She’s much better than me. I’ve spent the last half hour trying to make the black-and-white sky look blue and all I’ve managed to do is color outside all the lines.

“That’s good,” Beth says. “You do a lot of things for everyone else. You deserve this.” She turns around again and I swear there’s almost a hint of a sparkle in her eyes. “And he’s really cute.”

I grin at her.

We continue to work on the coloring book. Beth presses very softly with her crayon, making her page turn a series of pretty pastels. My blue sky is uneven from where I’ve pressed too hard. It’s a wonder I even made it to high school.

From across the room, Chael continues to speak softly to the addict in the wheelchair. I can’t hear what he’s saying but it must be working. The boy is nodding and I’m pretty sure he’s crying. But not in a bad way. Either way, he’s calmer than I’ve ever seen him before. A few of the other kids have come over to join them. There is now a circle of young drug addicts sitting by Chael’s feet and listening to whatever stories he’s entertaining them with.

Chael looks at me from across the room and blows me a kiss. I cover my smile with my hand and look down at the table.

“Do you think there’s still beauty in this world?” Beth suddenly asks, and I pause to ponder the question. Should I answer truthfully or should I lie? Will it make a difference? Beth is so impressionable; I don’t want her thinking that the future is going to be ugly.

“If you asked me that a month ago, I probably would have said no,” I tell her. “But I was in a completely different place then.”

“You’re happy now,” Beth says.

“Yes,” I tell her. “But you can’t rely on others for your own happiness.” My fingers absently stroke the Celtic necklace that Gazer gave me. I have yet to take it off. “I think I’ve started to learn a few things lately. I’ve spent so much time being miserable and bitchy I’ve forgotten that there was a part of me that could still enjoy simple things. I thought I enjoyed my hate. I thought I could look at everyone who hurt me and take pride in knowing I would get revenge. But now I’m not so sure.”

And when I say these words, I know they’re the truth. It takes so much energy to hate. I feel like I’ve been floating at the bottom of the sea for too long. Good God, at the rate I’m going, I’ll be writing greeting-card poetry before long.

“I like the moon at night,” Beth says, looking down at her crayons. “I like the way it sometimes manages to find its way through the clouds. I like the raindrops on the leaves in the garden. And I love the way a bakery smells when you go inside.”

“All completely enjoyable,” I agree.

“And I think that maybe I want to stick around a little longer and see the summer again.”

I smile at her and my heart lifts up inside my chest.

“Ramona says there’s a school that will take me and I can continue to live at the clinic for as long as I want.” She picks up a pink marker and starts to doodle on her chewed fingernails. When she’s done, she lifts her hand to the light and admires her work. “I think I want to do that.”

“Now I’m extra happy,” I tell her. I get up and go around the table to give her a hug. She throws her skinny arms around my waist and pulls me tight. When I look up, Chael is watching me. He smiles and winks.

Afterward, we walk home hand in hand.

“She’s coming around,” I say happily. I kick at a pile of mushy leaves in the gutter and giggle when they stick to my shoes. I want to twirl around and pirouette in front of the parking meter. I want to jump up on top of the burned-out car and scream to the world.

“You were brilliant,” he says.

“So were you,” I say. “I think Ramona is in love with you. The way she gushed and begged me to bring you back tomorrow.”

Chael grins and throws his arm around my shoulder, pulling me in close.

I helped her.

Maybe Ramona is right. This could be my calling.

For the first time in ages, the revenge doesn’t press against my mind, reminding me of where my place is.

I feel free.

Paige is waiting for me when I get home.

Now, that is something I never expected to see. Paige may be a lot of things; I can think of a lot of choice words I’d use to describe her. But gutsy? Brazen? Nope. Never saw that one coming. And she’s determined too. She refuses to get out of the way when I try to push past her.

She stands her ground by the church steps, shivering in her brand-name jacket. In her left hand is an umbrella that’s managing to keep most of the rain away; the other hand holds a slightly damp-looking envelope.

“What do you want?” I ask cautiously.

“I want to talk to you. Please, Faye.”

I go around her but she steps in front, blocking me effectively. She leans against the door to make sure I can’t try to sneak past.

“My father is an attorney,” she says very quickly. “I told him what happened. Everything. He already knew about the party so it’s not like that was a surprise. And then I told him about what the school did. It’s cruel.”

“It doesn’t matter. I was on a scholarship. They had the right to end it.”

“No they didn’t,” Paige says exasperatedly. “As I said, my dad is a lawyer. He’s agreed to take on the case. He says what the school did violates your civil rights. He’s pretty sure he can get you back in. And he’s not going to charge you either. He’s doing it for free.”

“Huh?” Yep, that’s right. I’m speechless.

“He’s drafting the paperwork right now,” she says. “And I’ve got these.” She holds up the envelope and hands it over to me. “Open it.”

It’s heavy and unsealed. I open the flap and reach in, taking out at least twenty pieces of paper. It’s a petition. And there are a lot of signatures on the pages. Hundreds of them. I shift through the sheets and it’s all the same thing. Name after name after name. Some of them I recognize. Most of them I don’t.

“It’s the entire school,” Paige says proudly. “Except maybe one or two. Everyone signed.”

“For what?”

“For you to come back.”

“Huh?” I swear, my IQ has dropped fifty points.

“The students are upset,” Paige says. “The school tried to cover it up but everyone pretty much knew all about it by the end of the day. And Mr. Erikson’s gone. He resigned in protest. We’re gonna try and get him back too.”

“Mr. Erikson’s gone?” I put my hand out on the rail to steady myself. I can’t believe it. I mean, I knew he was against what the school was doing but I never thought he’d quit his job. That seems so extreme.

“Yeah,” Paige says. “So now we’re going to fight to get you both back. I’ve spent the past few days gathering all these signatures. There’s eight hundred and ninety-seven. Not bad, huh?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m an idiot,” she says without missing a beat. “Come on, Faye. I know I said some wrong things and I can’t take them back. I’m not always the best at making the right decisions. Look at Jesse. Can I pick them or what?” She laughs bitterly. “I’ve always been the girl who gets everything she wants. The spoiled little rich girl. Don’t look so shocked. I’m quite aware of what I am. And as you know, I’ve got no problem using that to my advantage.”

I can’t help smiling. This is the Paige I know. It’s funny to hear her speak so blatantly about it.

“And I guess it took this to make me really appreciate it,” she says. “When I saw your scars. And then the way you looked right at me and everyone else when you walked down the hallway. You were so proud. Like an Amazon queen. I know I can be a bitch most of the time. But at that moment, you made me feel so ashamed of myself. I would have done anything to take it all back. And then later Mr. Erikson told us about all the rules you had to follow. We spent the entire class talking about it. It’s not fair. They had no right to treat you that way. Because of a drug?”

“That’s just the way it is,” I say. “Heam addicts aren’t exactly liked out here, in case you didn’t notice.”

“You don’t look like an addict to me. When was the last time you actually took Heam?”

“When I was eleven.”

“Eleven?”

“It’s a long story and I’m not going to share. But it wasn’t my fault. And I’ve never touched the drug since.” I look right into her eyes as I say this. I don’t know why but suddenly it’s very important to me that she believes me. Maybe it’s because no one has ever stood up and fought for me before. All those signatures. I can’t believe they all signed the petition.

“I can’t expect you to trust me after all I’ve done to you,” Paige begins. “So you don’t have to. Everything I’m doing should be proof enough. And you don’t have to do anything. I’ve got it all taken care of.”

Is she being honest with me? I can’t tell. I want to believe her but that was my problem in the first place. Just like I wanted to believe I could get an education without ever having a problem. I think back to our lunch and when she talked about how dying would be better than having scars. Is it possible that she’s simply trying to make good on her words? Is the guilt real? Or am I just some new project for her to take on. Something to look good on a college application?

“Do you really live here?” Paige finally asks, breaking the silence and my thoughts. She looks up at the church in awe. She’s actually impressed. I find that funny, considering I was so amazed at her place. I guess that’s what happens when you lead completely different lives.

“Yeah,” I say. “Do you want to come in?”

“I’d love to.”

I unlock the door and we’re greeted by silence. Thankfully, Gazer isn’t home. So I give her the whole tour. The living area that’s surrounded by empty pews, the kitchen with our bipolar refrigerator; I even show her the basement with the broken-down gym equipment. Eventually we end up in my bedroom. I try not to act embarrassed because there are clothes on the floor and my bed’s not made. I’m sure her room would be the same if it weren’t for the maid.

“I love this place,” she says. “It’s so beautiful.” She sits down on my bed and bounces up and down a few times. “You’re so lucky.”

“Me? Your place has a pool and, like, twenty bedrooms. We don’t even have heat half the time.”

“But a church has character,” she says. “Anyone can live in a big house. How many people get to say they live in a cool place like this?”

“Most people get weirded out by it.”

“Not me. I’d kill to live here. It’s so unique. You’ve even got stained-glass windows. So pretty.”

I can’t help it. I laugh. But not in a mean way. I think of the few people who have been here over the years and most of the time they react the same way Detective Aggett did when he was here. They get nervous, as if they’re offending God or something. No one has ever called this place pretty.

There is definitely more than one side to Paige. But which one can I trust, if any?

“Anyway, you can keep that,” Paige says as she points to the envelope still in my hand. “It’s just a copy. Dad’s got the real deal and he’s going to use it when he files the complaint with the school.”

I open my desk drawer and toss the signatures inside. Best not to leave it out in the open. I still haven’t told Gazer I’ve been expelled. If Paige actually follows through on this, then I might figure out what to say.

“So what do you think?”

“It’s probably a waste of time,” I tell her. “You’re trying to change the laws. That’s not easy to do.”

“They need to fix things,” Paige says. “They’re biased. This whole damn world is biased. Times are changing. Everyone deserves a chance. Just think. Getting you back in school could be the first step.”

I can’t help smiling. She’d make a great politician. She’s obviously got a flair for the dramatic. I understand why she’s doing this now. I’ve officially turned into a cause. There’s something wrong and Paige is determined to right it. I guess I can’t complain. I think of Beth and her skinny arms and how her parents treat her differently now that she’s got her own scars. Let Paige fight. It’s not just for me. It’s for Beth and Chael and even Arnold Bozek. It’s for the thousands, if not millions, of people out there that need more help than this world is willing to give them.