Untethered (25 page)

“Well, Mrs. Huggan. I have absolutely no experience in that.”

In Morality, we’re expected to have small group discussions on “What is sin?”

“I can tell you what sin is,” says Mitch Scholes. “It’s a sin to force us to sit in this room without gas masks. Doesn’t Mr. Walker ever take a shower?”

“Did you say gas masks?” Dwayne Fischer leans to one side and blasts out a long fart, right in my direction.

Mitch and I scrunch up our noses and moan protests. Mitch fans the air with his hands. “Come on, Dwayne! What the hell did you eat?”

Dwayne takes a long whiff. “Mmmm. I kinda like it. Admit it, Mitch. When you let one rip, no matter how ripe it is, your own smells pretty damn good. Like home-cooking.” He smacks me on the arm. “Ain’t that right, Kev?”

I do
not
want to enter this conversation. So I point to my throat. “Sore,” I whisper. “Can’t talk.”

Dwayne and Mitch both look at me with slitted eyes. “Yeah,” Mitch says. “I thought you were acting funny.”

Instead of discussing sin, Mitch and Dwayne make jokes about the football coach’s sex life, the swim coach’s balls, and then move on to discuss who was inebriated at the last party.

Why are we girls attracted to boys again?

I tune out Mitch and Dwayne and instead listen to snatches of discussion coming from the other groups. “Selfish.” ... “Not caring about the other person’s feelings.” ... “Murder, for sure. Hey, what about suicide?” ... “Greed.” ... “Stealing.” ... “You know, oh, what’s the word? Manipulation! That’s it. Being manipulative.”

What if my plan had worked? What if I’d pulled it off?
Suddenly, it’s like there’s liquid fire in my veins, hot, itchy, horrible. I can’t believe I even tried to take over Cassie’s body. The idea seemed to pop magically into my head and it sounded just right.
Sounded right how? What were you going to do, forget your entire family? Your best friend? What did you think? You’d be Kevin’s wife?

I
am
a freakin’ psycho. A complete head case. Taking over my best friend’s body? Really? What the
hell
?

For the first time I feel something other than regret or guilt over what I’d been trying to do this past weekend. For the first time, there’s shame.

Real shame.

“So.” Mr. Walker asks us all for our opinions on sin and writes a long list on the blackboard. He nods his head and says, “It needs more discussion, but for today I think we can sum it all up like this.” And then he writes: “Hurting others or yourself.”

I look down at Kevin’s hands, in place of my own.
And what if you hurt others
and
yourself? What kind of sinner are you then?

After school, I see Nelson in the hallway and I wave to him, “Hey, Nelson!”

He turns and looks behind him, as if I’m talking to someone else.

It’s fantastic to see his blue head amid the beige walls. Like water in the middle of a desert. A normal boy, not a tool like the one I’ve been inhabiting (uh, the bet?) or a complete dumbass like the others I’ve been frequenting today.

“Hey, how was Art class? Did Mrs. Stilke give out a new assignment?” I follow him to his locker.

He throws a huge binder inside and yanks out his leather jacket. He keeps his eyes down as he says, “Art class blowed, Kevin. Sylvie Sydell sits right next to me normally. And now she’s ...” He lets the sentence die out.

Right then Melissa Scott comes up to us. She gives me a sly smile but focuses on Nelson. “What’s the address of that haunted house?” She wraps a long tendril of hair around her index finger as she’s talking.

Nelson gives her the address, slamming his locker shut.

“So I’ll come and see you. And then afterwards ... we can ... have fun.”

“Except that I go out with the whole staff afterwards. It’s kind of a tradition. I’m sorry.” But he doesn’t look very sorry.

“’Kay. We’ll see.” Melissa gives him a little peck on the cheek and waves to us both.

“So,” I say, my voice bitter. “Looks like the basketball dinner went well, huh? You together now?” Nelson eyes me like I’ve just sprouted antennae then walks away without answering.

Something about that little kiss gets my stomach roiling. The fact that Melissa put her lips to Nelson’s face shouldn’t bother me, but it does. It really does.

The whole thing throws me for such a loop, I almost forget to sneak out before seeing Bryce, in order to avoid swim practice. I know if I skip practice Kevin’s dad will want to kill me, but it’s that or basically kill myself by drowning. I try to skim along the hallways like I’m invisible. I don’t get far. I’m not even into the parking lot when Bryce comes up next to me and says, “Coach is gonna ream you out for missing practice yesterday.”

“I’m sick,” I say. “I’m not going to practice.”

“Ha. Yeah.”

I take a breath and let it out, not sure I really want to ask, but knowing I have to. “Remind me again what the bet’s about?”

Bryce laughs, wraps his arm around my neck and grinds his knuckles playfully into my skull. “No more trying to get out of it, dude. A deal’s a deal. Just because you screwed up and Cassie got pissed off doesn’t mean the bet’s off. Get into her pants by Halloween or the Camaro’s mine.”

I pull away from him, suddenly feeling dizzy. “That’s horrible!”

Now Bryce laughs even louder and mimics
that’s horrible
in a feminine voice. “Hey,” he says. “Not for me!”

But Kevin loves his Camaro. It was a piece of junk when he bought it. He took it apart piece by piece and rebuilt it. For his sixteenth birthday, he got his license and a paint job for the car. Sparkly silver. Every time he’s in the driver’s seat, he acts like some hot-shot celebrity. He radiates pride. He must have been real sure of himself, sure he’d win the bet, or he’d never have risked losing that car.

Oh, man. Oh, hell.
Kevin’s a creep. A cretin. A low-life, grade A wad who makes bets on bedding girls. And I liked him?
Loved
him?

I bend over. “I think I’m gonna hurl.”

“We’re gonna be late, Phillips.” Bryce sounds like he’s had enough.

I stand and start towards Kevin’s car when Bryce says, “Whoa. Where you going?”

“Home.”

“What’s your problem, dude? You’ve been acting stoned all day, completely out of it. At least say something to Coach about missing or you’ll be off the team.”

That doesn’t seem so awful to me, but I know it would be to Kevin. And I’m supposed to be him. So I go and tell Coach I’m too sick to practice.

“WHAT?” Large globs of frothy, white spit fly from his lips as he lets off a string of swear words that probably shouldn’t be said within half-a-mile of any Catholic school. I let him rain profanities on me, while, despite myself, I glance down at his pants. In Morality, Mitch and Dwayne had joked about him having only one—

“Phillips!” I start at the sharp tone in his voice and snap my eyes back to his face.
Oh, my God. I cannot believe I was just looking at his crotch!
“Go,” he says. “But you show up for the meet Thursday even if you’re half-dead, you hear me?”

“Don’t you think since I’ve missed already that maybe you want someone else—”

“Be at the meet, Phillips, or don’t show your face here again.”

Like I’d want to.

Twenty-Nine

Still Life (As in, this is still my life?)

I drive over to Cassie’s. At every red light I look at myself in the rearview mirror and practice Kevin’s smile. At first it looks hideous. My lip kind of snags on my teeth and my gums are exposed. All I need is some foaming at the mouth to complete the look. No wonder Sam wasn’t susceptible. But after five red lights and one stop sign, I get it right. Right side up. Left side tilted. Eyebrows pleading, but with pride.

I glance over at my house, dark and lonely, as I walk up Cassie’s porch steps. When she opens her front door I beg, “Let me in, please.”

“Look, Kevin—”

“Please.” I give her the special smile, praying it’ll work. Praying I nailed it.

I must have. Because Cassie sighs, but opens the door wider. And as I make my way inside she looks me up and down and says softly, “You look good in glasses.”

Yikes.

We sit in overstuffed chairs in the living room, listening to the grandfather clock tick. Other than that there’s no sound in the house; her parents are still working. She sits looking at me, waiting, twisting her hair into a loose braid. She looks tired, like she hasn’t slept, and the life has gone out of her eyes. The friend in me wants to beg her forgiveness for ever having tried my plan. The body surrounding me wants to run its hands over her hips.

I shake my head and try to think clearly. “So I know I owe you an explanation, but you have to promise you’ll hear me out to the end.”

She lets out a low chuckle. “Whatever.”

“Just listen. Carefully.” And then I start. I start with the weekend and how we went to Chicago and how we decided to project that night. “You and me were trying to project when this happened. I went astral ... I left my body and ... and ...” I stumble, knowing I can’t tell the truth, knowing she’ll never forgive me if I do. Knowing I need her more than ever right now. “I don’t know, I just ended up inside Kevin. Please believe me, Cass. I know it’s unbelievable but you have to believe me. I’m Sylvie.”

Her eyes darken and I try to think of something that will convince her. “I know just about everything about you. You can lift one eyebrow, you’ve always been able to do that ... your mom gets drunk when your dad works late ... My ... my mom serves lentil lasagna on Fridays ... When I eat watermelon, I break out in hives ...”

I take a big breath and realize I’m crying. “Please believe me, Cass. No one else will and I’m really scared.”

She stays quiet, watching me cry. She’s stopped braiding her hair, and her fingers are there in mid-twist.
Cassie is still here. She’s still her. Still perfect. While I’m ... I’m ... him.

“Okay,” she says slowly. “If you’re Sylvie what’s our oath?”

Kevin’s heart jumps in my chest. I look into Cassie’s eyes. “Blood sisters, blood sisters, as long as we live. Always together. We always forgive.”

Suddenly her eyes fill with tears. “Sylvie.”

Yes, Cassie’s still here. Still perfect. Still my friend.

Even now.

I reach out and pull her to me. We hug for a long time.

Suddenly, she lets go. “But ... what happened to Kevin? If you’re in him, where is he? Where’d he go?” Her voice is crackly, full of worry.

I think of the disembodied voice I heard before, and feel the prickle of goose bumps rising on my skin. “I don’t know, Cass. I have no idea where he is.”

“He can’t just be gone!”

There’s nothing I can say. There’s just a sick feeling growing in my stomach. Where
is
he?

“So, why can’t you get out? Why can’t he get in?” Cassie’s voice is high and loud.

I keep saying the same thing over and over. “I don’t know! I don’t know why!”

Both of us stare at each other with tears in our eyes. We’re silent for a while and then I say, “I have to get back to my body. I’ve been out for two days. I don’t know how long I can be out before ...” But I can’t finish the sentence.

“They won’t let anyone but family near ... uh ...”

“My body,” I say for her, the words rough as tree bark.

“Yeah. At least for now.”

“I don’t know how much time I have.” The inside of my throat feels like I just swallowed sand. “How much time Kevin has, either.”

“Maybe Sam can get you into the room?” Cassie says.

“He’s mad at me. Or Kevin, anyways.”

We keep talking for a long time, long enough for the clock to chime the hour twice. Then suddenly, Kevin’s cell phone rings. I look on the screen; it says
HOME.
“Yeah?”

“Kevin,” a woman’s voice whines out of the speaker. “You’re grounded, remember? Practice has been over for thirty minutes now. If you aren’t home in the next ten, I add another week to your punishment.”

I hang up and say good-bye to Cass. It’s time to go play Kevin for a while.

At Kevin’s house, his step-mom is on duty, patrolling, making sure I go nowhere and have no privacy. She glares at me, but kisses little David who’s sleeping in a navy blue carrier strapped to her chest. His pale face is ghostly next to the orange surface of her self-tanned neck. She doesn’t look like someone who’d get into something like astral projection, but if Kevin said she did it, maybe she can help.

When she pokes her head into the bedroom to see what I’m up to I say, “Uh ...” I’m not sure what to call her. Does Kevin call her “Mom” or what? I think back to all the times I went astral and spied on Kevin.
Andrea.
That’s it. I think. “Uh, Andrea, can I ask you something?”

She puts her hand on the doorknob and narrows her eyes at me. “What did you just call me?”

And then I remember.
Amanda. Not Andrea.
“Amanda, do you still astral project? You still leave your body?”

She mashes her mouth into a straight line and doesn’t answer. When she finally talks her words are hard as a hammer on a nail. “For the last time, I don’t follow you. I do it just for me. For myself, Kevin. So let’s not hash over this again and again.”

“No, that’s not it. Really!” I hold out my hands, hoping she won’t leave the room. I know she and Kevin aren’t close – they didn’t talk much whenever I went astral and saw him with her. But she’s his step-mom. She probably wants the relationship to work. She probably wants to listen. “It’s that I project, too. But the other night something awful happened.” I take a quick breath. She projects. She just might believe me. “What if I told you I managed to slip inside the wrong body?”

“I’d tell you to stop talking or you’ll be grounded two extra weeks.” David stirs in the carrier and she pets his head gently. When she speaks to me, her voice is soft, but furious. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Look, Kevin. You can play your little tricks on me. You can call me psychotic or insane or demented all you want. But your father and I are married. We have a child together — your brother. No matter what you do, I’m not going anywhere.”