Twist (11 page)

“Shoot, that was nothing. You can't hurt steel,” Dad says.

“George has some scars on his face. The car was totaled.” She looks up from the table and examines my face. “You look really good, Luke.” She has a light touch when she brushes my cheek and a shiny silver bracelet tickles my neck.

Dad squirms in his seat. But she's really nice, and her hands smell good. So I say, “Thank you.” I can almost feel the air leave Dad's lungs when I hear him exhale.

“Let me show you some pictures. Maybe that will jar something loose.” She looks over at Dad and says, “Kyle, you want a beer or something?”

“A beer sounds good,” he says.

When Charlotte leaves the room he says to me, “You're doing great, champ.”

“I'm trying. Sometimes I feel like I stole your son's body and I'm more like a chump.” I look at my hands. It's like I'm in someone else's skin, like none of this is me, but I don't know who “me” is.

She
has a beer in one hand and a laptop in the other when she comes back. Dad takes the beer and she hands me the computer, puts her arm on my shoulder, and stands next to me, guiding me through the pages. “Click on that folder there”—she points at the screen.

Two faces fill the screen . . . and the one on the right causes me to have a full throttle testosterone attack. I sit up straight. A leapfrog dances in my breastbone. I close my eyes and see her.
“Beatrice Malcolm,” she says, and curtsies
.

I open my eyes and Charlotte lifts her jaw toward the screen.

I push on the arrow and another picture fills the screen. B is standing near a fence. Wind is blowing through her hair. She's wearing boyish clothes and she's so cute. I smile and in an instant I remember the day I spent with B.

“Well . . .” Dad says.

I look at him. “I remember Beatrice Malcolm.”

He grins, and Charlotte's beaming.

“Time cures all,” Dad says.

And I'm really enjoying my memory of B, until Charlotte asks, “What else do you remember?”

I look at her, but I also see Dad in my peripheral vision. His face looks like a mudslide. My mind is completely blank—except for B. “I really liked B,” I say.

Charlotte puts her hand on Dad's arm. He takes a big gulp from his beer and tries to hide his disappointment.

“She's not going to have to testify, her dad made a deal,” Charlotte says.

“And . . . ” Dad says.

“
She might be moving back here.”

“Might be?” I say.

Charlotte says, “She grew up in Seattle. Beatrice didn't like it here too much. She's staying with family friends.”

I want to see Beatrice Malcolm so bad it hurts. She's the one thing I remember from being Luke. “Can I call her?” I ask.

Charlotte glances at Dad and then says to me, “She wasn't real happy about everything that happened.”

“Neither am I,” I snap. “I might not remember it, but I got my head bashed in and everybody tells me it's probably because of her.”

“Lou, be nice,” Dad says.

“It's true. I just want to see her . . . speak to her again . . .”

I'm staring at B's picture as a big tear rolls down my cheek. I feel Charlotte's hand on my arm. She smiles and says, “I'll talk to her.”

We're about to leave when George Hoffman walks through the door. Dad sits back down and has another beer. I wander into the living room and run my hand across the cushion on the couch. I met B right here.

“You didn't really know my niece,” Charlotte says, startling me. I turn around, and I'm relieved at the sight of her kind eyes. “Her life is . . . messy.”

I
did
know her. I want to hold that girl again. I can smell her hair, and I remember her tiny breasts on my bare chest. It's all I have of Luke. She made me—she made Luke—feel alive.

“
So is mine,” I say. “Real messy. I go by Lou because I can't stand this guy Luke. He's perfect. And every minute I'm with my dad, he's looking for Luke.” My voice cracks. “I don't even know who I am.”

She frowns and sits down next to me on the couch. “But I know B,” I say. “I've been remembering her a little at a time. We had a special day.”

Charlotte hugs me.

“Mrs. Hoffman?”

“Call me Charlotte, you always do. Or did.”

“Will you tell me how I'm different? Everyone says that I'm different but no one tells me in what way.”

She's so awesome—she doesn't hesitate. “Let's start with the real obvious. Your hair is much shorter. They had to shave your head.”

I run my hand across my short hair. “Yep.”

“Your muscles aren't as defined. Maybe that's from lying around after the brain surgery.”

“What was I thinking? Slacker,” I say.

“Now that right there—a Lukeism. But the delivery was in slow motion,” she says. “So I think your brain is similar, just moving slower. Healing takes time.”

“Do I look that much different?”

“No,” she says. “I'd recognize you anywhere. Your hair's a littler darker, but the sun will lighten that up.”

Charlotte is totally cool, and the first person to accept me as I am.

“Let's go, Luke,” Dad says.

But
my head's spinning again, like I'm going back in time. I see it like it's happening live. Beatrice squeezes my cheeks and she kisses me—and for that tiny little moment I'm so happy.

“C'mon,” Dad says, snatching me away from my momentary joy right back into my stinking reality.

Chapter
24

Mom is waiting at the door. She's trying not to smile. Even though I don't have a thing for blondes, if she wasn't my mom, she'd be
hot
. She's in great shape for her age—whatever her age is. Her long hair floats around her face and her high cheekbones are elegant. “Charlotte called,” she says, grinning.

Dad and I stare at her.

“Well, Beatrice's phone number is right here.” She does a pirouette and pulls a strip of paper out of her pocket. “She says to call her tomorrow.” Mom's overjoyed. It's so odd, in all of my four months with her I've never seen her goof around.

“Close your mouth.” Her hand taps under my chin and she places Beatrice Malcolm's phone number in my palm. “I'm just thrilled, that's all.”

And so am I, because I feel like I'm holding the Holy Grail.

I go upstairs and start searching the Internet, looking for the video the leather guy told me about. He's right, there's nothing. I search “Beatrice Malcolm” and she pops up as a mention in articles about her dad, Teddy Malcolm, one of the FBI's Most Wanted.

I'm reading about his alleged crimes against the United States, and the biochemical weaponry and other crap, when Mom calls me down to dinner.

“I'm ready to know what happened,” I say.

And when they finish telling me about Beatrice's mom's death and her dad, the infamous Teddy Malcolm who claims he's only tried to find a cure for his wife. Then the rumors about the FBI and the trumped up charges, I don't know what to believe.

How
can I possibly call B after everything she's been through? But then, how can I not?

Chapter
25

At school the next day, I look everywhere for Simon. He's nowhere to be found until second period. I stand next to his seat, looking for a place to sit, but he ignores me. I see Tate on the other side of Simon.

“Move,” I say to Tate.

He protests, but Simon nods. Tate flips me off, right in my face. Then he takes his stuff to the front of the room, mumbling, “Asswipe.”

“I'm sorry—you were right,” I say.

“Erica?” he says.

“Yeah, and probably all of it.” I rub my head. “Can you help me out, until I remember?” I'm talking real low because I don't want anyone else to hear me.

“What do you mean?” he says.

“Tell me things, things about me from before. When I need to hear them.”

He looks down at his paper and shakes his head.

“C'mon!”

“Mr. Drake,” the teacher says. “You have something to share with the class?”

“Nope,” I say.

“Can you pay attention, then?”

Here I am again, thinking I'll never need this junk he's teaching and somehow knowing that Luke was into this
school stuff
, so I say, “Yes, sorry.”

The
teacher tips his head and then takes up where he left off. Later, when we're free to leave, I follow Simon.

“I don't even like you, Lou. You're nothing like Luke,” he says. “Why should I help you?”

“Because Luke is hiding inside of me.”

Erica sneaks up behind me. “There you are. You ran off so fast yesterday.” And the next thing I know, she's holding my hand. I shake her off. She twists her hair and bumps into me, whining. “Guy . . . What's wrong with you?”

“This is you, with no strings attached,” I snap. “Get a clue.”

Simon says to Erica, “Go to your class. You know how Luke feels about you.”

She stares at my face. “Luke?”

“Yeah,” I say. “No stalking this time.”

She looks like she's about to cry as she scurries away. Simon laughs. “So you can be Luke when it suits you?”

“Yes. I should never have let her near me.”

“Hopefully, you used a condom. She's been with the whole football team,” he says, and bursts out laughing.

I'm horrified that I even allowed Erica near me, and I'm sure it's written across my face because when he stops laughing and sees me, he arrogantly says, “Well, Drake, this might be fun. Count me in.”

I get a sense, from his attitude that he's going to mess with me. But there will be some truth in what he shares. I'll just need to figure it out. “Tell me about Bea.”

“
Walk!” Simon commands, and after he is a few steps ahead of me, he turns around and says, “You're going to have to speed up. I can't take this slower version of you. It's eating into every aspect of your life, especially your speech!”

I step up my pace.

“You told me you felt like you'd known her forever,” he says.

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Was I some romantic sissy bed-wetter?” I ask.

He snorts. “You were quite the opposite. But that girl, Bea was different, or so you claimed.”

He's talking as we hoof it to our next class. “You got laid more than anyone I knew or know. You said they were all special, but . . .”

“What? Don't stop.”

“We don't know if this one
was
different, because you got your ass kicked that night,” he says.

“No shit,” I say.

“I know her dad saw the video of you and Bea that was posted on the Internet.” Simon's got a gnarly grin on his face and his eyebrows are touching the tip of his ugly curls. “If I were him, I would have done the same thing to you.”

I scowl. “Did everyone see it?”

“Well, yes,” he says. “It was on our ‘get punked' website. Whoever posted it knew that half of the school would see it.”

“We have a website?”

“
Not literally. But most of the guys check the site out often. It's normally not porn, but pranks.”

“How do you know her dad saw it?”

“Who else would want to beat you up? You're Luke Drake. Everyone loves you.”

“And I only just met this girl?” I say.

He snorts some more. “‘Mesmerizing'—to quote you. You were hooked.”

“I remember her, all right.”

Simon is laughing so hard he's holding his stomach.

“What's so funny?” I ask.

“Ironic, the only thing you remember is the girl, and you knew her for less than twenty-four hours.”

My face goes slack.

He shuts his mouth and I'm glad his stupid laughter stops. “When I say it out loud it's not as funny.”

I ignore him. “I found what I could on the Internet. Her dad's no peach.”

“Well, don't believe everything you read.”

“Why not?”

He stares at me for a few seconds. “Have you lost all of Luke? Anyone can post stuff on the Internet. I'm not so sure that her dad isn't a hero.”

“I'm not buying that. Way too many negative things about that man,” I say.

“Suit yourself,” Simon says. “I gotta run. See you around.”

After swim practice, as I'm walking to the bus stop Simon drives up. “I'll give you a ride,” he says.

I
need this guy. He's my tainted memory. And even though he might even be messing with me and not always accurate, I like having some form of my past around. So I take the front seat and we drive a few blocks.

“I have Beatrice Malcolm's number,” I say.

“You haven't talked to her?” he says. “Call her.”

My hands are shaking when I dial her number. Ring, ring, ring, and then I hear her voice. “This is Bea. You know what to do.” I don't know what to say so I hang up.

“Leave a message. Let her call you back,” Simon says. “You're so flippin' bizarre now, Drake. Before, she would have been just another notch on your wall.”

We pull up to my house where Dad is watering the lawn. His truck is parked out front. He smiles at Simon and waves good-bye as Simon drives away.

“Where you been?” he asks.

“Around,” I say.

“Did you call her?”

“Voice mail.”

“Lou, she's moving back here.” He puts the hose down. “Charlotte told your mom a few minutes ago. It's a very recent development.”

My heart's about to jump out of my chest—I'm going to see my girl. “Really?”

“Some problems in Seattle. We don't know the details.” Dad and I go into the house.