Strange Girl

by Christopher Pike

  “She doesn’t hate me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s afraid of me.”

  “Huh?”

  “We met over the summer.”

  “Where?”

  “At the town cemetery. I often walk there.”

  “What happened at the cemetery?”

  Aja hesitated. “Better you ask her.”

  “Why?”

  “She’ll explain.”

  I pushed Aja to elaborate but she just shook her head and kept walking. I finally decided to shut my mouth and enjoy the touch of her hand, which was remarkably soothing. I don’t know how far we’d walked when I noticed that I was feeling awfully energized for a guy who hadn’t really slept in two days. More, I felt light, light as a balloon, as if I wasn’t walking but floating alongside the fence. And the clouds in the sky, they felt somehow closer, like I could touch them.

  Aja suddenly stopped and faced me, her big, brown eyes bright in the dark night. She reached up and stroked my cheek, my hair, and even though I did my best to stay cool I trembled. She inched up on her toes and kissed me on the lips, just for a second or two.

  “Let’s go back to your RV,” she said.

  “You mean the motel? You can sleep on my foldout. I can sleep on the floor.”

  Aja shook her head and tightened her grip on my hand. She began to lead me back the way we’d come. “I want to sleep with you in the RV.”

  I don’t recall much about the walk back. But I do remember lying beside her on the cushions in the rear of the RV, our two bodies barely fitting between the crush of our equipment. We didn’t have sex—we didn’t even make out, nor did she kiss me again.

  But she held me and let me hold her and for the first time in my life I felt as if all my hidden fears had been deftly exposed and quietly put to bed, once and for all. I had fought with her that it wasn’t safe to wander alone in the dark, but when I slept with her cheek resting on mine, and felt the brush of her eyelashes as they fluttered during her dreams, I was the one who felt protected.

  • • •

  The band slept until noon the next day, which was not unusual. Aja and I woke up an hour earlier and had breakfast in a nearby coffee shop. Once again, she ate what I ate: scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, coffee. I tried quizzing her about her life in Brazil but she easily turned the topic to our performance the previous night and I ended up doing most of the talking without even realizing it.

  Aja was turning out to be a tough egg to crack, I thought.

  I still knew almost nothing about her.

  Returning from the coffee shop, we found the band loading the RV. I assumed we’d be giving Aja a ride home until the infamous Bart showed up in an ivory Jaguar. Specifically, I met Bart in the motel parking lot while Mike and Dale were collecting clothes from our room and Aja was talking to Janet while Janet settled our bill at the front desk. It seemed Mike had raided the minibar—which, technically, was supposed to be locked and off-limits to us “kids”—earlier and we owed more money than our original deposit.

  “You must be Fred. Aja’s told me a lot about you,” Bart said as he climbed from the Jaguar and shook my hand.

  The man was coal black with a handsome face and a thick Jamaican accent. He wore a flowered shirt, white slacks, and wooden sandals that looked as if they might have been carved on a Caribbean island. He was short but robust. With his strong features and smooth skin it was hard to place his age. I would have said he was in his midthirties but a tinge of white in his black hair made me wonder if he was a lot older.

  “She’s told me about you,” I replied.

  Bart glanced around. “Is she here?”

  “She’s with my friend Janet. She should be here in a few minutes. Don’t tell me—Aja snuck out on you and her aunt.”

  Bart nodded. “It’s a habit of hers. But I had a good idea where she’d gone. She told me where your band was playing this weekend.”

  “She—or you—should have called. We could have given her a ride home.”

  “I didn’t have your number,” Bart said before changing the topic. “How was the show?”

  “It was going great until we had a riot. Then it got pretty ugly. I’m not sure any of us would still be alive if Aja hadn’t intervened.” I added, “I’m not joking.”

  Bart appeared to take it all in stride. “It’s a good thing she came.” He turned toward the motel office. “Let me check and see what’s keeping her.”

  I stepped in front of him. “She’ll be here in a minute. Anyway, if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask a few questions.”

  He hesitated before flashing a smile. “Shoot.”

  “Aja told me Mrs. Smith isn’t her real aunt. That the two of you ran into her in a small town in Brazil when she was a kid.”

  “That’s true. We were staying in Selva—that’s a tiny town in South Brazil—when we met her. She was eight at the time.”

  “How did that work? I mean, was she living on the streets or in the jungle and you saw her and took pity on her and adopted her?”

  “Pretty much. She was homeless.”

  “What about her parents? Where were they?”

  “Her mother and father were killed when she was much younger. The locals—there’s conflicting stories about what really happened. All I know for sure is there’s no point in asking Aja about them. She won’t discuss it.”

  “But you assume it was something traumatic?”

  “I have no idea,” Bart replied, giving me a penetrating look. “You like her, Fred, I can tell. I’m glad. Growing up, Aja hasn’t spent much time with people her own age.”

  “Why’s that? Why wasn’t she in school?”

  Bart shrugged. “She didn’t want to go to school. Not until recently.”

  “When the three of you moved here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did you move here, if I may ask?” When he didn’t answer right away I added, “Was it because she wanted to?”

  Bart chuckled, keeping his eyes on me. “Good, that’s good. You’re beginning to understand her. Most people never do.”

  Janet and Aja returned right then, followed shortly by Mike and Dale. Mike had a black eye and Dale a swollen lip but no one was complaining. Burrito Bill had tipped us an extra two hundred, all of it in cash.

  Yet I was disappointed Aja wouldn’t be riding back with us. I’d been looking forward to having a long talk with her. However, I could see Aja was reluctant to have Bart drive home all alone after he had come so far to find her. I couldn’t blame the girl for being polite. She squeezed my hand as she was leaving, which felt nice.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow at school,” she said.

  I smiled, although I hated to let go of her hand. Again, I wondered why I cared so much. And again, I told myself that I hardly knew her.

  “Have a safe drive back,” I said.

  Aja gave Bart a quick glance—as if to check with him, I thought—before she went up on her toes and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. To my surprise no one said a word, not even Mike. Moments later Bart and Aja pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the interstate.

  Janet was watching me closely. “Are things good?”

  I watched as the Jaguar turned onto the interstate and vanished. “I’m not sure,” I said honestly.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MONDAY AT SCHOOL felt like a roller coaster.

  Since I didn’t share a class with Aja anymore, I figured I’d talk to her at lunch. But on the way to her locker I was stopped by Nicole Greer. She wanted to talk, which I found odd because she hadn’t said two words to me in the last six months.

  Nicole had been my first real crush, the first girl I’d asked out on a real date. My infatuation had been intense, feverish. When she’d broken up with her boyfriend—a guy named Rick Hilton—and I’d finally managed to build up enough courage to call and ask her to a movie, and she said yeah, sure, she’d love to—I swear that had been one of the happiest days of my life.
>
  Unlike Aja, I’d had my eye on Nicole for several years and knew her pretty well, or at least I thought I did. She was very cute: dark blond hair, hazel eyes, round face, upturned nose, brain-blowing smile. Mike went so far as to say she was the prettiest girl in the school, and it wasn’t like I was in a mood to argue.

  She was sweet, too; she seemed kindhearted. Our first few dates, I felt on top of the world, especially when we made out, which we did often, usually at my house, in my bedroom. We even came close to going all the way. Nicole made it clear she wanted to but it was I who held back. But it wasn’t because I was a prude or lacked in horniness. Hell, I was a walking hard-on when we were dating. No, the problem was Nicole. She still talked about Rick. She talked about him a lot, at least from where I was standing.

  I knew Rick, I even admired him. We had a lot in common. Like me, he was a loner, more into his oil painting than school. He was smart, too, and there was no phoniness about him. Although Nicole never came out and said it, I knew it had been Rick who had ended their relationship. I suppose a girl who looked like Nicole wasn’t used to that sort of thing.

  They had only been broken up three months when we began to date; that should have been warning enough. Yet I didn’t see the ax coming because I was happy and I didn’t want to see it. I wanted to pretend Nicole was happy, too. But I was naive and inexperienced. I didn’t understand that all Rick had to do was crook his little finger and say, “I miss you,” and she’d come running.

  I still remember the day Nicole dumped me. We were supposed to go out that night, and when I called to ask what time she wanted me to pick her up she told me she couldn’t make it that evening. That she had to stay home and wash her hair.

  Had to wash her hair? What a shitty breakup line. I told her as much before I slammed down the phone. At least I had some pride, I told myself. Later, I took that line and wrote what Dale said was the worst song he’d ever heard in his life. It was called, naturally, “I Have To Wash My Hair.”

  Anyway, now Nicole wanted to talk and I can’t say I was over the moon about the prospect. At the same time I have to admit she still had some kind of hold over me.

  “What’s up?” I asked. We were standing right beside Aja’s locker. It was beginning to look like she had come and gone.

  “I just wanted to see how you’re doing,” Nicole said.

  “I’m great. What’s new with you? How’s Rick?”

  Nicole hesitated. “He’s fine, I suppose. You know he moved away.”

  “I didn’t know. Where did he go?”

  “San Francisco.”

  “San Francisco? God, lucky him. I mean, did he want to go?”

  She nodded. “His father lives there. And Rick’s always been kind of impulsive. A few days before school started, he just packed a bag, sent me a good-bye text, and left on a bus. Amazing, huh?”

  I could see she was hurting and even though she’d broken my heart I felt no desire to increase her pain. I put my arm around her.

  “How you holding up?” I asked.

  She sighed and rested her head on my shoulder. “Oh, I’m a mess. I keep thinking what a fool I was. I knew Rick could dump me. He’d done it once, he could do it again. It was just that I . . . I think I got what I deserved. ’Cause of the way I treated you.”

  “Don’t say that. You loved him. You had every right to go back to him. You and I—we were just like a couple of fireworks. We were bound to burn out fast.”

  She smiled. “You haven’t changed. You always know how to make me smile.” But then she lost her smile. “You were good to me. I’m sorry I hurt you. The way I did it, I was such an asshole. Can you forgive me?”

  “Nicole, come on. I’m going to be a rich and famous rock star. I’m going to be known all over the world. I’m going to have tons of hot girls chasing me. You wouldn’t like that. You did us both a favor.” I added, “Although you shouldn’t have used your dirty hair as an excuse to cancel our last date.”

  Nicole didn’t smile this time. If anything she looked more worried. “I’m not here just to moan and groan and ask for your forgiveness.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Aja, that new girl. I heard you’re seeing her.”

  “That’s not true. We haven’t even gone out on a date. She came to see our show the other night. That’s all.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Fred. You forget how well I know you. In the last two minutes you’ve glanced at her locker six times. You’ve got a thing for her.”

  I stiffened. “If I do it’s none of your business.”

  Nicole pulled away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I’m doing this all wrong. I shouldn’t have talked about Rick. He’s not why I’m here. She is.” Nicole paused. “I need to warn you, Fred.”

  “About what?”

  “Aja. She’s playing you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Bobby Dieder and James Caruso. They’ve both been talking to her. Bobby’s in her psych class and Jimmy’s in her English class. They’ve both asked her out.”

  A cold wave swept over me, the kind of cold that can only be felt on a really hot day when your brain’s so cooked a single stroke of bad news can freeze a billion neurons.

  I cleared my throat. “What’s the big deal? She’s a pretty girl. Half the guys in the school probably want to go out with her.”

  “You don’t get it. They’ve both been to her house. They’ve both already gone out with her.”

  I shook my head and backed up a step. “When?”

  “Bobby went to the movies with her last Friday. Jimmy—I don’t know when they went out. I just know he took her to dinner.” Nicole came close, put a hand on my chest. “I hate having to tell you this. It’s just that I know you. I know how sensitive you are. I don’t want you to fall for—”

  I interrupted. “You don’t want me to fall for Aja the way I fell for you? Is that what you’re saying?”

  Nicole nodded. “I still care about you. I care about you more than you know. I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

  I stood very still. “Thank you.”

  “If there’s anything I can do. . . .”

  “Right.”

  Nicole was no fool. She knew when it was time to walk away. “Take care of yourself, Fred,” she said and turned and left.

  • • •

  I decided not to talk to Aja that afternoon at lunch. Instead I ditched class, walked home, and took a nap. I needed the extra rest, I told myself. I had to put in a six-hour shift at the hardware store that evening and, besides, I wanted to work on my demo. I decided to take the next day off school as well, which I did.

  I couldn’t simply drop out, though, and when I did return to school, on Wednesday, I watched from across the courtyard at lunch as first Bobby Dieder and then James Caruso walked up to Aja. Plenty of smiles all around. I couldn’t tell which one she liked more and I suppose it didn’t really matter. Janet stood beside me and tried to be reassuring.

  “So she has guys hitting on her,” she said. “That’s no surprise.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Talk to her. She’s probably waiting for you to talk to her.”

  “She has eyes. She can see where I am. If she wanted to talk, she’d walk over.”

  “You could be wrong. Maybe I should bring her over.”

  “No.”

  “I’m just talking about checking out whether she—”

  “No,” I repeated.

  “All right. But I still have a good feeling about Aja.”

  “Screw your feelings.”

  Janet sighed. “They’re not always accurate.”

  Somehow, I managed to avoid Aja the rest of the week, or else she managed to avoid me. It was shocking how miserable I was. I mean, I hardly—no, I won’t say it again.

  One thing that helped distract me, though, was a last-minute gig Janet set up in Aberdeen, the third-largest city in our beloved state. A major sci-fi convention was taking place ove
r the weekend in the town’s swankiest hotel and Janet told our band that it seemed even nerds needed loud music to help break the ice with nerds of the opposite sex.

  What she didn’t tell us—at least not until we were driving toward Aberdeen—was that their first choice in entertainment, a famous hypnotist, had been stabbed to death a few days ago by his stage assistant. It appeared she’d discovered she’d only been having sex with her boss because he kept putting her in a continuous trance. Janet warned us we were the convention’s second choice.

  We arrived late and were hastily setting up in the hotel’s ballroom when Aja suddenly appeared. She stepped from behind the hall’s stage curtains, wearing a tight pair of blue jeans and a white sweatshirt with our band’s name, “HALF LIFE,” printed in bold letters across her chest.

  I had no idea where the sweatshirt had come from.

  It looked like she had made it herself.

  “Hi,” she said.

  I was too stunned to think up a great comeback.

  “Hi yourself,” I said.

  She came closer, took the power cord running from my guitar, and plugged it into our stack of Marshall amps. “I remember that’s where it goes,” she explained.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to hear you play. You invited me, remember?”

  “I didn’t think you’d come twice. How did you get here? Did Bart drive you?”

  “I took a bus.”

  “Does Bart know where you are?”

  “I don’t know, he might.”

  “You didn’t say anything to him?”

  Aja considered. “He said something to me.”

  “What?”

  “Bart told me that boys usually ask girls out on dates—when they like them. He said that’s normally how it’s done. Then he contradicted himself and said you might be an exception to that rule and that I should give you another chance.” She paused. “That’s why I’m here.”

  “Hold on a second. What about Bobby Dieder and James Caruso?”

  “What about them?”

  “Aren’t you dating them?” I asked.

  “I don’t think so. But they keep asking me to go to places with them. And they talk to me every day at lunch and try to see me after school.”