The Face (6 page)

I told him the rest. About seeing Justine, Laura, and Adriana. About seeing Aaron and two other boys. About how I couldn't see the other boys' faces.

Again, he nodded.

“Am I starting to remember? Is it coming back to me?” I asked impatiently.

“I think so,” he replied. I waited for him to smile or show some emotion
—any
emotion. But he didn't.

I guess he was just being professional. But I wanted him to be
human.
I wanted him to help me.

“This is encouraging, Martha,” he said finally. He crossed his long legs. He wore Bass Weejun loafers with white socks. “What else did you see?”

“That's about it.” I tried to remember if I had seen more. But the picture had vanished from my mind before anyone in the cabin said or did anything.

“Oh!” I cried out, suddenly remembering the drawings I had brought.

He sat up straight. “What's wrong, Martha?”

I pulled my backpack up from the floor and started to unzip it. “I almost forgot. I brought you these.”

I tugged out the sheets from my drawing pad and unfolded them. “Drawings I made,” I told him. “Of a face.”

I held one of the drawings up to him. “I keep drawing the same face, the same boy, over and over,” I said. “I don't know why. It's almost as if I'm drawing against my will.”

I held up two of the drawings, one in each hand.

“Do you recognize the boy, Dr. Sayles?” I demanded eagerly. “Do you?”

To my surprise, he was staring at the drawings with bulging eyes. His mouth wide open.

No longer the blank-faced professional.

He was staring at my drawings in total shock.

I
finished my homework early on Saturday. I was kind of bored. Aaron was away visiting cousins with his family.

I sat in my room, listening to music drift up from downstairs. Dad had the Metropolitan Opera on the radio. He always played it cranked up really loud. My bedroom door was closed, but I could still hear it as if I were in the living room with him.

Outside the window the sky spread out, blue and clear. A mound of snow rose up on the outer sill, pressing against the window. It had snowed for two days. The sun had finally come out.

I stared down at a drawing of the boy's face. Stared into his serious eyes. Stared at the scar that split his eyebrow.

Who was he?

Why did I keep drawing him?

Why wouldn't Dr. Sayles tell me? And why did Dr. Sayles lose his cool? Why did he have such a startled expression on his face when I held up the drawing?

Questions. Questions.

I had a lot of questions. Not many answers.

I was still staring at the boy's face when the bedroom door flew open, and Laura and Adriana burst in.

“What's up?” Adriana cried.

“You can't stay in. You've got to come with us,” Laura insisted.

They both had blue down jackets pulled down over faded jeans. They both carried round, red plastic sleds. Their cheeks were nearly as red as the sleds.

“Huh? What's going on?” I asked. I dropped the drawing to the desktop.

“It's gorgeous out!” Laura exclaimed. “The most beautiful day of the winter!”

“It's perfect sledding,” Adriana chimed in excitedly. “The snow sort of froze. There's an icy crust on top. You've got to come to Miller Hill with us, Martha!”

I gaped at both of them. They were acting like ten-year-olds!

“You mean—you want to go sledding?”

They both laughed at me. I know I sounded like a moron. But I was so surprised.

“Why can't we have fun?” Laura demanded. “You know. Like we used to. Before we got old. Before we were supposed to start acting
cool
all the time?”

“Come on, Martha.” Adriana tugged me off the chair. “Get your coat. It's not even that cold out. Come on. We've got an extra sled.”

“We'll have races,” Laura suggested. She helped Adriana push me to the door. “We'll push all the eight-year-old kids off the hill and have it all to ourselves!”

“Hey—why not?” I said finally. We pushed each other down the stairs, singing along with Dad's opera, singing so loud he shouted for us to shut up. Which made us laugh, and sing even louder.

Why
shouldn't
I have some fun? I asked myself.

Why should I sit up in my room staring at that creepy drawing?

I realized I hadn't had any fun … any
real
fun … since the accident. Since I lost my memory.

I grabbed my snow parka and a pair of woolly gloves and followed my two friends out the front door. They were right. It was a beautiful afternoon. The air felt cold and crisp. The bright sunlight made the snow sparkle like gold.

We walked to Miller Hill, carrying our round sleds, rolling them like hoops, sending them crashing into each other.

Nearly to the top of the street, Adriana slipped and fell. Laura and I pounced on her and pushed her face into the snow.

She sputtered. Came up laughing. And started a wild wrestling match that got all three of us wet and snow-covered.

Laughing, breathing hard from our strenuous battle, we brushed each other off. We gathered up our disks, which had slid halfway down the street. And continued on our way.

Miller Hill is the favorite sledding place in Shadyside. It's steep and bumpy and stretches into a wide, empty field. The snow always seems deeper and slicker on Miller Hill. It's a steep climb up. But the ride down is long, fast, and totally thrilling.

Today the hill glowed like a silvery mountain. Laura, Adriana, and I stopped at the bottom and gazed up. Dozens of kids, kids of all ages, were sledding down. On every kind of sled! Garbage can lids and inflated snow doughnuts competed with old-fashioned wood-and-steel Flexible Flyers.

What a scene!

In their red, and blue, and purple jackets, their snow hats and ski caps, the kids looked like Christmas ornaments on a huge, white tree.

I know. I know. I'm starting to sound like a poet or something.

But it was just such a thrilling sight. Such an
innocent
scene. I guess it made me think of being younger. It made me think of happier times.

“How come the hill looks so much bigger than it used to?” Laura asked, ducking out of the way as two little boys came sliding down on plastic garbage bags.

“Don't wimp out,” Adriana scolded her. “The hill is the same as it always was. Let's go.”

Slipping and sliding, we leaned into the wind and made our way up to the top of the hill. Halfway up, the wind from the top blew the plastic sled from my hand, and I had to go chase it.

I finally made it to the top.

Where were Laura and Adriana?

I shielded my eyes from the bright sunlight with one gloved hand and searched for them.

They were already preparing to slide down. They had found an open spot on one side, just past a group of serious-faced boys. Now they were lowering themselves onto their sleds.

Laura was sitting on hers. Adriana had plopped down on her belly.

I darted over, planning to surprise Adriana and give her a hard shove.

But they were too fast for me.

They both took off with happy squeals. The sleds dropped fast.

Laura hit a hard bump. Her sled flew into the air. But she managed to hold on.

Adriana reached the bottom and just kept going. Her sled took her halfway across the field below.

I laughed. What a great ride!

My turn, I told myself.

I tried to remember the last time I had stood up here on Miller Hill, the last time I had sledded down.

I was probably ten or eleven, I guessed.

Well, why should the ten-year-olds have all the fun?

I gazed down to the bottom of the hill—and saw Adriana and Laura standing together, sleds at their sides. Adriana had pulled off her ski cap and was brushing snow from her black hair. They were both staring up at me. Waiting for me to join them.

“Here I come!” I shouted, cupping my gloved hands around my mouth. I don't think they could hear me.

A gust of wind gave me a hard shove from behind.

I lowered my sled to the snow, resting it on the edge. Then I lowered myself to my knees.

I gripped the sides of the disk and dropped on top of it.

Another wind gust sent me sliding down. Before I was ready to go.

I nearly fell off as the disk slid down. Picked up speed. I bounced over a sharp bump. Held on.

Screaming.

Oh, no.

The white snow whirring past. A blizzard of white.

So white. White and cold.

A cold wall of white.

No. No.

I'm buried in it. Buried in the white.

Falling deeper, deeper …

I realized I was screaming now.

Not a scream of fun. Not a scream of delight.

I screamed in horror.

Screamed out pure terror.

Screamed until I felt my lungs about to burst.

And still I screamed.

Screamed so hard. Screamed so loud.

And the walls of white closed in.

As I screamed. Screamed. Screamed out my horror.

I knew I couldn't stop.

I knew I'd never stop.

I
don't remember exactly how I got home.

Of course, Adriana and Laura must have helped me.

I can still see their troubled faces as they ran to pull me off my sled at the bottom of the hill. They had to pry my hands off the edge, then pull me to my feet.

I can see their wide eyes, their red cheeks. They were frantically talking to me. Shouting at me.

But I couldn't hear them. I was screaming too loud.

Screaming my throat raw.

Screaming. Screaming.

I saw the puzzled faces of the kids all around. I
saw a woman pull two little girls away. The girls were covering their ears with mittened hands, trying to shut out the shrill screams.

I saw them all. Saw their alarm. Saw their fear.

But I couldn't stop.

I couldn't control myself. I felt as if a creature inside me was struggling to burst out. Screaming and screaming—and forcing its way out of me.

What triggered my horror?

The snow? The sled? The feeling of sliding down, down, down so fast?

The feeling of being out of control?

Or was it the whirring walls of sparkling white snow?

What drove me over the edge like that?

I think I screamed all the way home.

I don't really remember. I don't remember returning home. And I don't remember finally closing my mouth, shutting off the horrible shrieks.

My throat felt raw. It burned as if on fire.

I couldn't speak. I could only whisper.

Martha, you're a total mess, I told myself.

Where was I?

Lying in my bed. The quilt pulled up to my chin.

Mom and Dad downstairs, making me a cup of tea. A bowl of hot soup. Dad on the phone, trying to reach Dr. Sayles.

I'm still shaking. My whole body shuddering. My throat throbbing and aching from my screams.

Lying in bed, staring up at the white ceiling.

The bright white ceiling.

And I had another flashback. Another picture slid into my mind, as rapidly as a sled racing downhill.

Another memory.

Of white. The cabins covered with snow. Powdery drifts up to the windows. Silvery icicles, stabbing down from the rain gutter like dagger blades.

I saw Justine. Laura. And then Adriana.

A snowball fight.

I heard a
thwock.
The sound of a snowball hitting the back of Adriana's parka.

I heard laughter. Boys' laughter.

More snowballs flew.

Then I saw Aaron beside me. Brown hair tumbling down from a brown-and-white-checked cap. A grin on his face. Cheeks red from the cold. Steam rising up from his open mouth.

Another
thwock.

I felt myself duck as a snowball whirred close overhead.

Everyone was laughing. Shouting. Having such a good time.

Lying in bed, my eyes shut, I could feel myself smiling. It seemed like so much fun.

The snow sparkled. Aaron tossed a snowball at Laura. She ducked and dropped to her knees in the deep snow. A snowball hit her in the head, knocked her ski cap off.

Laughing, she scrambled to make fresh snowballs. “I'll get you!” she was screaming at someone, pretending to be angry. “I'll get you!”

Who was she screaming at?

I struggled to see.

Aaron?

No. Ivan.

Ivan was there with us. In his leather jacket. No hat or gloves.

I saw his leering grin. Saw the small goatee under his chin.

Thwock.
Another snowball caught Laura smack on the chest.

She laughed. Grabbed Ivan by the jacket collar. Struggled to pull him down into the deep snow.

Everyone laughing.

Everyone having so much fun.

I could see clearly now. I was remembering. My memory—this was a piece of it—coming back to me.

Ow!

I felt a shock of cold. Saw myself in the scene. Saw myself wiping a wet clump of snow off my forehead.

Heard laughter. Cold laughter.

Felt another snowball, hard and icy, smack just under my jacket collar.

Who was throwing them? Who was attacking me?

I squinted harder, trying to see the whole scene. Trying to remember, to bring it all back.

And saw Justine. Such an angry expression knotting her face.

Justine, pelting me with snowballs. Forming them furiously between her green gloves. Then heaving them. Heaving snowballs at me as fast as she could.

“Justine—!” I saw myself calling to her. “Hey—whoa!”

Justine ignored me. Threw even more furiously, letting out short grunts with each toss. Throwing as hard as she could.

Trying to hurt me?

Why is Justine angry at me? I wondered. Why is she picking on me?

And then I saw myself fight back. Saw myself fling snowballs back at her. Scooping up handful after handful of snow. Squeezing it hard. Heaving it before it was even shaped into snowballs.