Untethered (14 page)

The bell rings and everyone leaves the room in a herd. Tori Thompson bangs into me. “Oh, sorry, Psycho. Too bad for you that inside counts stuff is a load of shit.”

Cassie gets her face right into Tori’s. “You’re such a bitch.”

Tori just laughs.

“Shut up, Tori,” I spit out and pull Cassie with me down the hall.

The day drags on a lot longer than usual, which is saying something. Just the thought that in only a few hours I’ll be at Kevin’s house makes those hours seem like days.

Finally, my last class. Before the bell rings, Nelson turns to me. “Hey, there’s a bunch of people gonna have a bonfire on the beach tonight.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’ll be fun. I can pick you up if you wanna go.” He fingers a hole in his jeans as he says it.

It would be the first time we’d do something together outside of school, which could be cool. But not tonight. Not when I get to go to Kevin’s. “Thanks, Nelson. But I’ve got plans.”
Big plans.

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” He nods and turns to the front of the room.

Mrs. Stilke gives us a heads-up on the next project. “If you can start with this today, great. But if not, I want you to think about it over the weekend, because it’s a big project. We’ll be working on it for a while.” She sits on the paint-splattered table at the front of the room which serves as her desk, tucking her long skirt underneath her.

“Home. What do you think of when I say that? Now, I’m not just talking about the place where you live, although that might be what you call home. But some of us have other places we like to call home, or places we feel really at home. I, for example, feel the best when I’m fishing in the Root River.” Here the class stifles giggles – no one can imagine Mrs. Stilke with her funky dresses and thousand necklaces wearing rubber boots and a fisherman’s hat. But she ignores us and continues. “I want you to think about where you feel best. We’ll start painting that place, in acrylics, on Monday, but if any of you want to get a head start, you can.”

I think of my house and the emptiness that has taken over the place since Dad has gone. I won’t paint that as home. It doesn’t feel like it anymore. But Dad’s place definitely isn’t home either. Neither is school. Thing is, I’m not at home anywhere — not even in my own body.

How sick is that?

I rub my thumb over a dried blob of red paint on the table. I think of how things look when I leave my physical body: the way my astral body glows, the way even normal everyday objects seem more colorful, sharper and bright, of how the dark is no longer scary, but intriguing, inviting. Amazing. Lately I really only feel at home when I do astral projection. I take a deep breath and get a smock and some brushes. I prepare my paints and canvas and sit down.

Then I pick up my brush and start.

After school, I run out to the parking lot. Cassie and Sam are already there. Sam’s leaning on Cassie’s car, telling a couple other freshmen guys he’s invited to Kevin’s party.

“Come on,” I tease him. “You’d better get into Cassie’s car before your head grows so big it won’t fit.”

As Cassie pulls out of the parking lot, I pound the passenger side floor with my feet and sing out, “YES! We’re going to Kevin’s! We’re going to Kevin’s!”

Cassie laughs then looks at me, her eyes narrowed. “Why don’t we make you up tonight, Sylvie? Get Kevin’s attention.”

“Are you kidding? Don’t you remember the last time I used make-up?” I’m allergic to all sorts of things. Well, not many foods, luckily, just watermelon. But medicines are a nightmare, and I break out in hives if I get stung by a bee; I sneeze like crazy around cats. I turn red and scaly if I use powder or base, and the last time I tried eyeliner, my eyes swelled up. My only friends are Vaseline, ph neutral soap, and hydro-cortisone cream.

“Yeah, but I don’t think you’ve ever used expensive make-up. The really good stuff. They have make-up for people with allergies. And even if it’s not a hundred percent, it might be worth a bit of itching if you look good at the party tonight.”

“Look good? Puh-leeeze. Not possible.” This from Sam.

I glare at him. “You watch it, derp.”

I look back at Cassie, at the way her lips glisten, the way her eyes seem all the more seductive darkly lined. I’d love to be able to wear make-up. I’ve watched all the soupy films about the girl being turned into a goddess with a bit of lipstick and a good haircut. I’d give anything for that to happen to me. Maybe Kevin would finally give me a second look. But I know from experience to be cautious. “I don’t know.”

“My mom just bought some hypoallergenic stuff because her skin was getting weird with her regular brand. I can swipe some and bring it to your Dad’s.”

“Well ...”

“Come on, Sylvie. Lately, you look like someone’s sucked the life out of you. Or like you got punched in the eyes. Make-up can cover that. ”

Side effects of my shadow addiction. “Okay. Maybe if it’s decent make-up.”

She claps. “Yippee! This will be fun”

I hope so.

Cassie comes to Dad’s apartment with us for dinner. We all eat KFC and ice cream together and then she holds up a large, floral make-up bag. “Mr. Sydell, we’ve got to get ready.”

We shut ourselves into Dad’s tiny bathroom. I sit on the toilet seat while she bends over me with her brushes and Q-tips. I love the satiny feel of the blush over my cheeks, the slight pulling of the mascara wand on my eyelashes.

Cassie drags lipstick over my lips. Then she stands back as far as she can and grins. “Stellar!”

I look in the mirror.

Whoa.

The girl who looks back isn’t my usual horrid self. She’s normal. Almost cute. I can’t believe it. I blink at my reflection. I pucker my lips a couple times. “Wow, Cass. Thank you.”

She runs a brush and some serum through my hair until it’s smooth and shiny. Then she nods. “Great. Now for the rest. Hey, do you have a skirt you could wear?”

“Umm, legs like toothpicks? No skirts.”

“Okay. Fine, whatever.” She shrugs and pushes me to the door. “Let’s show you off.”

When we come out of the bathroom, Dad looks at me funny and makes a big deal about my face. “ I can’t believe how fast you’re growing up.”

Ugh.

We leave as the evening melts into darkness.

Sarah and Michelle both live on the other side of town. On the way to pick them up, Cassie juggles steering and popping Sugar Babies into her mouth. “Hey,” she says, mouth full. “Wasn’t that thing we did in Morality class interesting?”

I look at her like she’s just spoken Chinese.

She shrugs. “What? I thought Mr. Walker had a point. In a perfect world, we wouldn’t judge people by their looks, but by who they are. And why do we have different criteria for men than we do for women?”

I have to stop her watching those touchy-feely talk shows. She’s starting to sound like a pop-culture scholar. “So, you don’t think looks are important?” I ask. “That it’s only the inside that counts?”

From the back seat, Sam gives one sharp laugh. Cassie ignores him and answers, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“That’s because you’re pretty.”

“No. No one ever told me I was pretty before this summer and I lived my life just fine.”

“Get off it, Cass. People have always gone on about your hair. God, it’s the first memory I have of you. Your hair shining. Even as a kid I would have gladly traded with you.”

“Really?” She whips her head towards me. Her hair bounces mockingly.

“Yeah ... Anyways, if looks don’t count, then you would have no problem being me?” I ask slowly. Every nerve in my body prickles, like her answer means everything.

She laughs. “Of course not.”

“Oh, come on. ”

“You act like you’re covered in scales or something, Sylvie. I wouldn’t have a problem being you. You’re cute. Scout’s honor,” Cassie holds up the first three fingers of her right hand.

“You’ve never been a scout, Cass.”

She shrugs.

“You couldn’t pay
me
to be you,” Sam says to me from the back.

“I didn’t ask you,” I bark at him then look back to Cassie. “I think I’d like being you,” I say to her.

“Ha! You’d have to deal with my parents.”

“I like your parents. At least they’re trying to do things right.”

Now Cassie shakes her head. “Sylvie, even apart, your mom and dad are better parents than mine ever are. I mean it.”

But my parents wouldn’t be apart if it weren’t for me. They’d still have time for each other. Time for Sam. Time to stay a family.

We pull into Michelle’s driveway and Cassie beeps. Michelle’s out the door in a flash, a streak of white clothing in the dark night.

A few blocks from Michelle’s we pick up Sarah, and then we head back across town to Kevin’s. He only lives a couple miles from me and Cassie in one of those split-level houses scattered about the north side. I know what the outside is like: an apple tree in the front, an in-ground swimming pool in the back. And from projecting, I’ve now seen the inside. Well, his room, anyways. But now I’ll get to go inside because I was invited. Because Kevin wants us there. All of us. Me included. My stomach see-saws at the thought.

My eyes start itching about ten minutes before we arrive. I ignore it, and think of Kevin’s reaction to the new made-up me. He did say I was okay. Maybe now he’ll see me as more than okay.

But when we park outside his place, Cassie says to Sarah and Michelle, “Check out the new Sylvie!” and turns on the dome light.

All of them scream in unison.

With shaky hands, I put down the sun visor on the passenger side and open the mirror
. No! No, no, no! Not tonight!
I might as well be covered in scales.
I’m already bright red and my left eye is so puffed up, I can’t believe I can actually see out of it. I can’t see for long, though, because the tears are already starting to make everything blurry.

“Oh, hell. Oh, no. I’m so sorry, Sylvie. It’s my fault; I shouldn’t have made you up. But I thought ... Oh, God.” Cassie puts her hands over her face and peeks at me from between her fingers. “You can’t go in there.”

Sarah and Michelle agree. “No way.”

“Yeah,” Sam says. “You look like a DNA experiment gone wrong.”

I glance at Kevin’s house and put a hand over my mouth to stifle a sob. This is so, so not fair. “Fine,” I say, when I’m able to talk. “Let’s go then. We can rent a movie at my dad’s place.”

But they all just look at each other.

“What?”

Sarah puts a hand through her jet-black hair and lifts her eyebrows. “We’re going to the party, Sylvie. Just because you can’t go shouldn’t ruin the night for the rest of us.”

“I’ve got to show them the Mentos trick.” This from Sam. Michelle just opens the car door and gets out.

I look at Cassie.

“I’ll drive you home and come back.” She waits until the others are all out of the car and then starts it up again.

We’re almost to my dad’s when I say, “You can’t leave me, Cass.”

“But—”

“It’s your fault I’m like this! You said the makeup was all right!”

“But I’ve got to bring the others home! I can’t stay with you.”

“They’ve got their cells. They’ll text when they need a ride.” Truth is, I’m afraid to leave her alone with Kevin. What’ll happen if they’re together without me? Plus, I’m so disappointed and confused and angry. The one night I get to go to Kevin’s, the one night things are going my way, Cassie wants to make me up. The thing is, she of all people knows how allergic I am to everything.

She wouldn’t have done it on purpose, would she have?

I hope not.

I decide to go for the guilt and hold up my index finger, showing her the little scar there. “I thought we were blood sisters.”

Cassie looks at me for a long time, and I know she wants to be back at that party. But she sighs, holds up her finger and wraps it around mine. “Fine. Blood sisters forever.”

Dad, however, takes one look at me and sends Cassie away. “I’m taking Sylvie to the walk-in clinic. You need to stay with Sam.” Cassie looks relieved and hops into her car before he can change his mind.

For a Friday night, the walk-in clinic is dead. I’m in and out within an hour. I must look devastated, because when we get back to the apartment Dad actually offers to play Parcheesi instead of work. It’s such a bad suggestion, though, I figure he’s hoping I’ll say no so he can write anyways. It doesn’t matter. I want to be alone. I blow him off and shut the door to my so-called room.

I scream into my pillow, kick the blow-up mattress and cry myself weak.

Kevin’s having a party and I’m not there.

Screw it.
I’ll leave my body and go to that damn party anyhow.

Eighteen

September: Is That a Knife in My Back?

I split from my body and see myself lying there on the blow up mattress, face swollen, arms stick-thin and pinned to my sides. It’s like I have no connection to that frail-looking creature. It could be anyone, not me.

I wonder if Kevin’s party is still going strong. I barely complete the thought when the shadows surround me. Their cool breath lifts me up and pulls me there.

I’m in Kevin’s kitchen. It’s huge and sleek, all metal and granite. I reach out to touch the wall, and my hand sweeps right through it.

Around the kitchen island, Sam, Bryce, Kevin, Cassie, Sarah, Michelle, Ashley and a few others are all laughing and wiping themselves off with paper towel. On the island stand two almost empty bottles of Diet Coke and an empty pack of Mentos. Diet Coke is splattered everywhere.

“Cool, dude.” Bryce says this to Sam. “A geyser.”

“Yeah. That was the shit!” Kevin nods at Sam, then turns to Cassie. “I’ve gotta say you look fantastic doused in Diet Coke.”

“Shut up.” Cassie grins.

Kevin goes to the fridge, opens it, pulls out a can of 7Up and shakes it. “But I wonder? Would you look so good doused in 7Up?” Now he cracks the can open in Cassie’s direction, letting the spray fizz out over her and several others in the kitchen.

The place goes wild with screams and laughter and even more so when Cassie opens the fridge and gets a can to spray at Kevin. Soon everyone’s spraying cans of soda. The floor is wet and slick. Kevin grabs Cassie and slides a couple feet on the floor with her, like they’re ice-skating partners, only then they fall down hard together.