by Marlie May
Those moments when happiness came into your life, like when you saw a perfect flower or watched your cat chase a ball. That was when you could forget. But then the moment would end and the pain would crash back into you again and you’d be right back where you started.
Did those happy times grow longer? Is that what they meant by ‘moving on’?
One of the old ladies smiled and flapped her hands at me. “Go ahead, dear. You’re next.”
Dropping my gaze, I kept my mouth shut. Sharing felt too much like exposing my soul, and I wasn’t ready. I might never be ready.
Frances watched me for a long moment, then glanced at her watch. “It appears our time is up.”
“Oh, darn,” Charles said. The old ladies murmured agreement.
“Will you join us next week, Janie?” Frances asked.
I shrugged, unable to make a decision at this time.
“Our door is always open,” she added.
Everyone rose.
“Thank you all for coming,” Frances said. She leaned close to me and whispered, “I’ll see you for your regular appointment next week?”
I nodded.
While Frances spoke to the old people, I scooted out into the hall and found a bathroom. When I’d finished and went outside, Alex stood on the lawn beside a tree.
“My mom will be here soon,” she said, gazing intently at the road. “We only have one car since the other burned in the garage.”
I dropped down onto the front steps of the church, and she joined me.
“I know who you are,” I said.
Her hands stilled on her thighs. “You do?”
“I saw you at Finley Cove High in the library, and you’re the one who saved me before that lamp hit my head.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
“I don’t know how or why you were there at the right time, but I’m grateful.” I rubbed my forehead. “I have a feeling I’d be in bad shape right now if you hadn’t been.”
“I’m glad I could help.”
“You go to the library much?”
“A lot. It’s quiet, which is great for reading. And if I face the wall, no one stares. Or, I don’t notice if they’re staring.” She stroked her hair with her slightly contracted fingers. Third degree burns, then. There might not be enough PT or surgery to make them fully functional again. Sometimes, they had to rework the tendons to release the scars. “I have a straight blonde wig, too, plus one in red for fun, but this one is the most like my original hair. And I’ve got a ton of cute glasses.” She tapped the light blue frames. “Chemical burns to my eyes and eyelids. I was super light-sensitive at first but then Mom got me these and a bunch of others.”
“The glasses and hair look good.” Actually, the hair looked like what it was, a wig, but she seemed happy to have it. I doubted many people told her she looked good lately.
“I don’t think anyone knows what it’s like to live like this.” Her fingertips ran down her pressure garment. “Except, to some extent, you do.”
Gnawing on my lower lips, I nodded.
“I keep a picture of how I used to look. My mom had it in her purse when she escaped the fire. I thought I was an ugly kid back then.” Her laugh came out hollow. “But now, I guess I was pretty. Gorgeous even in comparison.”
I couldn’t think of a thing to say. Funny how, when you’re growing up, you believe your life is one big self-pity party. Sure, I’d had it bad after the accident, but never like this. Alex dealt with more than I ever had on a daily basis. We’d both lost family, putting us on an equal level in that respect. But I could hide my arms and use distractions so few people noticed my hands.
No one could miss Alex’s face.
She shook her head, making her hair skim across her back. “Do you think the doctors will be able to do enough plastic surgery so I can look in the mirror and smile at what I see?”
“I bet they will. They can do a lot nowadays.” Not miracles, but something. They had to try because the alternative was not an option. Skin grafts and plastic surgery could only do so much.
Alex shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to wait and see. I’ve got more surgery coming up in a few weeks. After that, I might get this thing off.” She dabbed at the material covering her face, and I imagined it must still hurt underneath.
A car drew up to the church, and a woman got out of the driver’s seat. “You ready to go, Alex?” Her gaze skimmed to me, and her brow narrowed.
“She doesn’t come to the Grief Group?” I whispered.
“She doesn’t like to talk about it, not even to me. It does no good if you can’t talk. Honestly, you should share next week. You’d be surprised how it makes everything feel just a little better.”
“I might talk about my parents and my friend, but I’m not going to talk about what happened that night.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t remember.” Other than one memory of laughter, plus Dad pushing me off the yacht. “Frances said it’s from the trauma. That my memories may never come back to me.”
“You’re lucky, then.” I could feel her gaze penetrating me. “Sometimes, it’s better to forget. I’d sure like to forget what happened to me.” She stood.
Her mom walked over. After waving to me, she hugged Alex.
“Mom,” Alex said, her voice grinding even deeper. But her lips twitched into something like a smile.
“What?” She rubbed Alex’s back. “I just love you.”
Alex’s lips rose higher. “Love you too, Mom.”
A fist reached inside my chest and squeezed my heart tight. I’d never get to tell my mom I loved her again, and that realization stabbed deep. But I was happy for Alex.
Maybe, if I worked through this some more, I could be happy for myself.
Alex leaned around her mom’s shoulder. “Come next week? Please?”
There was no mistaking the pleading in her voice or how tightly she held her body, waiting for my answer.
10
I ducked before a knife hit me in the temple.
It flew across the tile floor and skidded into the wall with a sharp clang.
Yeah, I love you too.
So much for coming to the school cafeteria on Friday. What was this, kindergarten?
Ignoring the knife as well the even sharper snickers around me, I made my way through the food line and then stood holding my tray, wondering where I should sit. Hopefully not by myself, let alone with my knife-throwing peers.
Kids crowded tables, a few pushing each other around and laughing. Wanderers, like me, drifted through the room, seeking acceptance. Some kids called out to their friends, waving them over to tables. Others threw food around like freakin’ ten-year-olds.
A dark-haired head—no, a dark-wigged person—sat on the far side of the room beyond the long row of windows. She’d taken a small table by herself, and she faced the wall. Alex.
I wove around the crowded tables and stopped beside her. “Can I sit?”
“The true benefits of democracy are free speech and—”
“Free will.” I dropped my tray onto the table and took the seat opposite her.
While I couldn’t see her eyes because of her tinted glasses—pink-rimmed today—I could feel the weight of her gaze. “No better offers?”
“Maybe I want to sit with you.” I kept my face neutral but cringed inside, because I hadn’t really sought her out. I hadn’t wanted to sit alone.
But that wasn’t quite true, because I was happy to see her.
I bit into my pizza and talked around it. “I looked for you in my classes but only saw you in AP Gov.” Since everyone faced forward, she must’ve felt hidden in the back. The way the room was arranged with a closet along most of the back wall, there was only one seat in that row. I had looked for her, and I would’ve sat with her in my AP class if it had been possible. But the only empty spots had been in the front.
“You looked for me?” She so
unded so eager, I smiled.
I held up my arms. “We torch girls need to stick together.”
Alex snorted. “I like that. Torch girls. It sounds…sophisticated. Like we could wear matching black dresses and form a club. You should’ve seen my hair that night. Talk about torches. It went up faster than…” She tried to snap her fingers, but the scars snagged on each other. “Anyway. You know what I mean. And the smell. There’s nothing worse than burning hair. Well, maybe the smell of burning flesh is worse. But you know about that one, too.”
I tried not to remember all the time, but yeah.
Losing my appetite, I dropped my pizza. I stared down at my tray and without any prompting, my mind flashed to a different scene.
I beat at the flames, screaming.
The main cabin was on fire. My shirt was on fire. My skin. The pain…
I gasped.
“Sorry,” Alex said. “You were eating. Not the best time to talk about burning flesh. If there’s ever a time to talk about something like that.”
My bite of pizza felt lodged in my throat. Gulping, I swallowed hard, forcing it down. “It’s okay. If you don’t laugh—”
“You cry.” Alex nibbled on her sandwich. “I do more than my share of that already.”
“Me, too.”
After chewing for a long time, she coughed and drank some water. “I have a hard time with food. My throat was burned from the smoke, plus the heat of the flames.”
Forget eating. The subject matter was turning my stomach. Usually, if I didn’t finish lunch, it was because the cafeteria food was crap. Today, I’d actually been hungry.
“I’m sure my voice gives it away,” she said. “They said I was lucky my vocal cords were only lightly damaged. But it hurts to talk sometimes.”
Which could explain why she spoke as if she had to force out each word.
Her hand paused before she picked up her sandwich. “I tell myself my new voice makes me sound sexy. Maybe I’ll get a job with one of those phone sex companies.” She lifted her arms, exposed to the world—unlike mine, which remained covered by my long-sleeve shirt. I couldn’t imagine not giving a damn what anyone thought.
“Oh, yeah, baby,” Alex said. “Do it to me, do it.” Her arms flopped back down, onto her thighs. “At least the caller won’t be able to see my face.”
“A lot of people see past scars.” Like Manuel, who’d said my arms didn’t bother him, that he didn’t pity me. I kept remembering his words.
“Ya think? I just don’t know.” Her lips pursed, outlined by her mask. “I’m not ready to try it out yet. Going somewhere with a guy, that is.”
“I’m not sure I am, either.”
“Fair enough.”
Sean joined us at the table, dropping his tray beside mine and sitting.
Alex gaped at him. To some extent, I did, too.
“Alex, Sean,” I said. “Sean, Alex.”
She dropped her sandwich and coughed again. Her shoulders curled forward, and she linked her arms across her belly.
“Shit,” Sean said, glaring down at his tray. “I forgot ketchup.” Rising, he rushed toward the lunch line.
“You okay?” I asked Alex. Should I do something for her like, call the nurse?
She drank some water, before setting down her glass. “Ketchup?”
“For his pizza,” I said. Alex winced. “Gross, I know.”
The holes for Alex’s nose and mouth highlighted those features. Probably because the rest of her face was hidden from view. It wasn’t easy reading someone’s mood solely from a slash of a mouth or the way they held their body. But, at the moment, her tight shoulders and stiff spine implied anger. Why?
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Is Sean your boyfriend?” No missing the irritation in her voice. “Thought you weren’t up for that?”
So, that was it. “He’s just a friend.” Why should it matter?
Alex stood and lifted her tray off the table. “I’ve gotta go.”
She’d barely eaten half her sandwich. Not that I was doing any better with my pizza but if either of us needed nutrition to heal, it was Alex.
“Sean won’t judge you. He’s the best. One of the few friends who stood by me during the past few months.”
“Must be nice.”
I winced. Had her friends ghosted her like most of mine?
“I’ve got to go to my locker, the bathroom,” she said. “It’s not Sean.”
Maybe not, but it sure felt like it. It was obvious Alex barely felt comfortable with me. Our shared burn experience may be the only reason we kept connecting. And Sean was cute in a cute-friend way to me, but a lot of girls said he was hot. Within hours of returning to school, a few had asked me if I thought he might be ready to date again. I’d barely held back snapping at them. Brianna hadn’t been gone long, and he’d loved her. It would be a while before he was ready to go out with someone new.
Since Alex was edging away from the table, I wouldn’t hold her back. Far be it for me to suggest someone push themselves outside their comfort zone. “I’ll see you around sometime, then?”
“Sure.”
I watched her take her tray up to the window and dump it then stride across the cafeteria, head held high, seemingly oblivious to the feverish whispers erupting around her.
“Was it something I said?” Sean dropped a handful of ketchup packets onto his tray and sat.
I shrugged and picked up my pizza. “I think she’s shy. She’s been burned in more ways than one.”
“What happened to her, anyway? You know.” He touched his face.
“House fire. She lost her dad and little brothers.”
“That aweful. I feel bad for her.” He squirted packet after packet onto his pizza, smeared it around with a knife, then lifted it and took a big bite. He spoke around his bloody-appearing food. “You need any help with your classes?”
Sean was the reason I’d gotten a B instead of a C in English last year. And the reason I currently had an A in Calc. He’d not only brought home my schoolwork, but he’d also tutored me, especially when my doctor and PT appointments made me fall behind.
“I’m doing okay, actually,” I said. Not straight As but all solid Bs.
“Excellent. Remember, you need help?” He tapped his chest, smearing a dab of ketchup on it. “You come to me. I mean it.”
“Okay.”
He polished off his last piece of crust and wiped his hands on his thighs. “You know I’m not a prayin’ kind of guy. But when they found you and life-flighted you to that burn center, I ditched the science fair and drove a million miles an hour to get there. And after I saw you—” His hands stilled on his thighs, and his eyes watered. “I went to the hospital chapel, got down on my knees, and begged for you to live. Brianna was gone. I would have died if I’d lost you, too.”
Seeing his eyes wet made mine fill. The rest of my pizza smacked onto my tray. There was no way I could finish it now.
Sean nudged his chin toward it and I waved. “Have at it.” Soon smothered in ketchup, he consumed it.
He stared toward the cafeteria entrance after. “Alex is a little different, isn’t she?”
Maybe more than a little different. But what she’d gone through would scar anyone on the inside, not just on the surface. She covered well with a brave front, which I needed to copy. Too often, I let my hurt shine through. “You’d be different if you’d experienced what she did.”
He nodded slowly, his eyes returning to me. “You’re right. She seemed okay, I guess. Just quiet.”
“I’m also different.” No reason not to name what he’d seen from the moment he rushed into my hospital room.
“Not that much.” Reaching across the table, he nudged my shoulder. “You’re still my best friend.”
Brianna was gone and there was no bringing her back. but at least I wasn’t facing life without her alone.
11
Time to heat up my investigation.
Talking it out wit
h Sean wasn’t an option. I couldn’t hurt him by sharing the scant details I already knew, let alone my speculations. And I refused to endanger him by involving him in whatever I did next.
But after finding almost nothing in Mr. Somerfield’s office, I had no clue where to turn. I needed to know what resources were available to me, and one particular person might be able to help. There wasn’t anyone else I could think of to ask.
During my late study hall, I walked up to the library desk. It was manned, of course, but that was the idea.
“Can we talk?” I asked.
“Sure thing.” Manuel sat there, staring up at me as if he expected me to unburden myself where anyone could overhear me.
“It’s private.”
Manuel’s eyebrows rose. He got up and strolled back to the main office and told Ms. Peterson he’d be away from the desk for a few minutes. When he returned, I nudged my head toward the main room and led the way.
“What’s up?” he asked as he followed me around the tables.
“Shhh!” a girl said, shooting spears with her eyes.
Manuel grinned when we entered the stack area with rows of books stretching ahead of us. “This must be really important.”
I rolled my eyes and took him to the end where the library had set up a small out-of-the-way sitting area with comfy chairs and a sofa. All empty, thankfully. I stopped beside the wooden coffee table and turned to face him.
“You know,” he said. “If you wanted to get me alone, you just had to say so.”
So much for friends. “Jeez, Manly. This isn’t about anything like that.”
He waved toward the sofa. “Not even hankering for a little kiss?”
My heart skipped. Even a fire alarm couldn’t have kept me from staring at his lips. Nice, like everything else about him. Of course.
“No kissing,” I said. “I want to talk about murder.”
He blinked but his smile held. “While I’ve got a decent right hook, I’m not the best guy for a hit on someone.”
My face flamed. Being near this guy sent me into an emotional yo-yo. Flip me one way then flip me the other. My shoulders drooped. Why had I thought he could help me? “Could you be serious for once?”
