by Лиза Макманн
Do you really have to take even more risks?”
Janie smiles ruefully. She wraps her arms around his neck and rests her head on his shoulder. Thinking. “What if I do get hurt? Or if something…happens to me. Will you stop loving me?” she asks quietly.
“How could I?” Cabel strokes her hair. “But I have to learn how to handle the feelings that come with that. I’m just not used to caring about something, about someone, so much that it hurts. Not like this.”
Janie is quiet, thoughtful. “Did you know that you were the first person
I ever remember saying ‘I love you’ to? I don’t even remember saying it to my mother. Which is really sad.”
“I didn’t know,” he says. He lets his head fall back on the couch and takes a deep breath. Lets it out. “Do you still love me, Janie?”
Janie stares at him, incredulous. “Yes, of course! I don’t say it lightly.”
“Say it lightly in my ear,” he demands.
She smiles, rests her soft cheek on his scratchy one, and whispers it. “I love you, Cabe.”
They sit, holding each other. And then Cabel asks her, “Truth or dare?”
Janie blinks. “Do I really have an option here?”
“No,” Cabel says. “Okay, um…” Takes a deep breath. “What’s happening to you, Janie? I just…I need to know. Please.” He shifts her, so he can see her eyes.
They fill with tears.
He straightens her glasses and takes a deep breath. “Tell me,” he says.
Janie bites her lip. “Nothing, Cabe. I’m fine.” She can’t look at him.
Cabel rips his fingers through his hair. “Just…just say it. Get it out there, so we can deal with it. You’re going blind from all the dreams, aren’t you.”
Janie blinks. Her lips part in surprise.
He touches her cheek, stroking it with his thumb.
“What…how…?” she begins.
“You squint, even with your glasses on. You get headaches all the time. Bright light bothers you. It takes you longer to get your sight back after each dream you get sucked into.” He pauses. Anxious. “And then, in the hospital, when you weren’t sucked into anyone’s dream, but you were having your own nightmare, you couldn’t see when you woke up. That was the first time for that, wasn’t it?”
She sinks back into his shoulder. Doesn’t remember that dream in the hospital. Also doesn’t want to cry anymore. “Damn,” she says.
“You’re a good detective.”
“How soon?” he whispers.
She presses her lips to his cheek, and then she sighs. “A few years.”
He takes in a sharp breath and slowly lets it out again. “Okay. What else, Janie.”
She closes her eyes, resigned. “My hands,” she says. “They’ll be gnarled and ugly and useless in fifteen years.”
He waits, stroking her back. “Anything else?” His voice is anxious.
“Not really,” she whispers. “Just…I can’t drive anymore. Ever again.”
She loses her fight with the tears. “Poor Ethel. At least she’s got a good home now.”
He holds her, rocking, stroking her hair. “Janie,” he says after a while.
“How old was Miss Stubin when she died?”
“In her seventies.”
He breathes a sigh. “Oh. Thank god.”
“Can you deal with this, Cabel? Because if you can’t…” She chokes.
“If you can’t, tell me now.”
He looks into her eyes.
Touches her cheek.
4:22 p.m.
Cabel calls Captain.
“Komisky.”
“Sir, any chance Janie and I can be seen together now?”
“Under the circumstances, that would pretty damn much make my day, yes. Besides, the Wilder cocaine case got settled on Monday. He pleaded guilty.”
“You rock, sir.”
“Yes, yes, I know. Go out to a movie or something, will you?”
“Right away. Thank you.”
“And stop bothering me.”
“Good-bye, sir.”
“Take care. Both of you.”
Cabel smiles and hangs up. “Guess what.”
“What,” Janie says.
“We can go out on our first date.”
“Woo hoo!”
“And guess what else—You’re buying.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because you lost the bet.”
Janie thinks a moment. Punches Cabel in the arm. “You did not fail five quizzes or tests!”
“I did. I have proof.”
“Shit!”
“Yep.”
DON’T LOOK BACK
May 24, 2006, 7:06 p.m.
Janie strides into the Fieldridge High School auditorium, where hundreds of parents, grandparents, brothers, and sisters are seated in bleachers, folding chairs, and balcony seats, and waving programs near their soppy necks in ninety-five-degree heat and humidity. It seems the old building’s air-conditioning can’t take the pressure of another graduation ceremony.
She glances around and spots Cabel several rows behind her. He blows an impish kiss, and she grins. Her cap’s band threatens to squeeze her brain into mush, and she feels the sweat soaking into it.
Janie looks in the other direction, scanning the audience. Some familiar faces. Carrie’s parents sit off to the side on the wooden bleachers, and
Janie offers a small smile, even though they aren’t looking at her.
Even with her newly updated prescription glasses, it’s difficult to see far away. Colors bleed from one dress to the next. But finally Janie spots her. It’s the bronze hair contrasted with her dark skin that helps.
Sitting next to Captain is a large man who looks like Denzel
Washington, twenty years from now. His arm is spread lazily across the back of Captain’s chair. Janie can see Captain poke her husband and point. Janie squints and smiles, and then lowers her eyes. She’s not sure why.
The valedictorian takes the stage, and the crowd quiets, leaving only the rush of flapping programs.
It’s not Cabel.
Thankfully.
He managed to pull his grades down successfully to a mere 3.93. Third place. Enough to keep him out of the limelight. Which is all he wants, really. Janie’s not far behind with a 3.85. She’s thrilled.
There are three faculty chairs empty in the auditorium this year. Doc, Happy, and Dumbass. Suspended without pay. Awaiting the hearing.
Janie feels a pang of sadness for those chairs.
Not for the men who sat there.
Just so we’re clear.
Even so.
They are reminders of pain and embarrassment, horror wrapped up like a gift. Janie’s glad that box exploded.
Up at the microphone, Stacey O’Grady begins speaking. She has a different air about her now. New, in the past few months. Reserved.
Solemn. A maturity, perhaps, or a sense of understanding that not all things turn out the way you’d wish them to.
Janie’s mother isn’t there.
Neither is Cabel’s, but no one expected her. Although Cabel’s older brother, Charlie, and Charlie’s wife, Megan, are somewhere in the crowd.
Expectations. It’s what they always talk about at these things. Making a difference in the future. Striving for excellence. Blah, blah, blah.
Janie wipes a drop of sweat from her forehead. Looks around as Stacey says from the podium, “The best years are yet to come,” and Janie watches the room explode in applause.
Janie doesn’t join them.
The ominous words ring in her ears.
The crowd of seniors stands and, one by one, over the course of an hour, their names are called. Janie steps carefully across the stage, prays that the little sleeping baby nearby doesn’t dream yet, and takes her diploma. Shakes hands with Abernethy. Moves her tassel over to the other side. Walks lightly down the stage stairs and back to her folding chair to wait.
When the stage is silent
and Principal Abernethy gives one last word of congratulations, the hats fly and the voices around Janie rise to fill the auditorium. Janie takes her hat off her head and tucks it under her arm, waiting, waiting. Waiting to be done. So she can say good-bye to this place, once and for all.
When the madhouse clears, she’s still standing there. Only a few lingerers remain in the building that now feels like a rain forest after a downpour. She walks slowly down the aisle toward the exit steps, where she’ll meet Cabel and whoever else he’s schmoozing with. But for now, she is alone.
The custodian comes by with a broom, and he smiles at her. Janie nods and smiles in return, and he begins sweeping the wood-floored aisles that most often serve as a basketball court. And then the lights fade a bit.
Janie blinks and leans against the wall, just in case.
But it’s no one’s dream.
It’s just the end of some things.
And the beginning of others.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to:
My fabulous agent, Michael Bourret.
My incredible editor, Jennifer Klonsky.
Sammy Yuen and Mike Rosamilia, who create the Best. Covers. Ever.
Matt Schwartz for way too many things to mention. Lila Haber and
Kate Smyth for their tireless promotional efforts and for always being available. Also to Victor Iannone and the awesome sales team; to Rick
Richter, Paul Crichton, Bethany Buck, Lucille Rettino, Kelly Stocks, Bess Brasswell, Mary McAveney, Matt Pantoliano, Emilia Rhodes, Jeannie Ng, and Molly McLeod. Cassandra Clare, Chris Crutcher, Ally
Carter, Richard Lewis, Lauren Baratz-Logsted, A. S. King, Melissa
Walker, FanLib.com, and BookDivas.com.
All the awesome teen and adult reviewers and fans who plaster my books all over their websites and blogs.
My parents, siblings, in-laws, and outlaws for all the support.
Shout-outs to:
Alyssa, Jamie, Hannah, Kevin, Max, Casey, Chloe, Jack, and Lili Eva
Bethel at Primlicious.com.
Scott, Michelle, Danielle, Tyler, and Morgan Bloyer. Lori Rourke, hairdresser to the stars.
Jade Corn and Cori Ashley at Phoenix Book Company, and to Faith
Hochhalter and all of the book club ladies and gents. Treehouse Books, Anderson’s Bookshop, Changing Hands Bookstore, and Kepler’s.
My invisible friends who rock: Juliana, Ashlea, Cassie, Nicole, Chelsea, Melissa, and James Booth, and all the peeps at that one place who have given me so much support—you know who you are. Jill
Morgan at Flat Rock High School.
And to Vickie, Sahrie, Tashia, Nikki, and Katherine, the first five
MySpace friends I met on book tour. You guys rock!
FB2 document info
Document ID: ooofbtools-2010-11-13-19-33-3-1053
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 13.11.2010
Created using: ExportToFB21, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software
Document authors :
ed hurdee
About
This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.
(This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)
Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.
(Эта книга может содержать материал который защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственности за его использование)
http://www.fb2epub.net
https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/
