Strange Girl

by Christopher Pike

  “Go on,” I said.

  “He’d heard the stories about her and he believed in her. He stopped and begged her to help. Aja didn’t say anything—she didn’t even touch the girl. She just told the man his daughter would be okay but he should still take her to the hospital.” Casey stopped and shook her head. “The girl made a miraculous recovery.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Aja didn’t touch her? Aja told the man to take his daughter to the hospital? I’m sure the doctors at the hospital gave her an antidote to the venom. That’s why the girl recovered. Really, Casey, how could you be moved by such a cliché story?”

  “You weren’t there!” Casey snapped. “If you had been, if you’d seen the fear in the girl’s eyes as she recalled what she’d gone through, then you would know something significant had happened. Still, like I said, the girl’s story was only one in a hundred. The mother had followed Aja all her life.”

  “I take it you went to Selva?”

  “Yes. I spent a month there, my first visit. The whole town knew about Aja and believed she was special. I taught myself Portuguese so I could interview as many people as possible who had seen Aja perform some magical act. For some reason they preferred to call her powers ‘magical’ rather than ‘miraculous.’ It might have been their Catholic upbringing. Because she never spoke about Jesus or Mother Mary, not everyone saw her healings as miracles.” Casey paused. “Actually, Aja hardly spoke to anyone.”

  “I take it she refused to speak to you?” I asked.

  Casey hesitated. “Yup.”

  “How many times did you go to Selva?”

  “Three times total. I spent a month each time.”

  “And kept collecting secondhand accounts of Aja’s amazing powers from what had to be a very superstitious village. What made you think you could take all this talk and turn it into a bestselling book? And how did you afford to keep going there? Didn’t you have college loans to pay off?” I paused. “Or was Daddy paying the bills?”

  I’d hit a nerve. Casey slammed her fist on the table. “My father’s as interested in my research as I am. So what if he agreed to foot the bill? It doesn’t make my investigation any less valid.”

  I sipped my iced tea. “I’m glad it doesn’t bother you.”

  “I’m not chasing after Aja to avoid getting a real job, if that’s what you’re saying.”

  I shrugged. “Let’s cut to the chase. You still haven’t said anything that gives me a reason to talk Aja and Mike into giving you an interview.” Again, I checked my watch. “I’m sorry but I’m feeling unimpressed.”

  “Aja’s come here for a reason,” Casey blurted out.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Before she left Selva, she spoke to a bunch of children who used to chase after her in the jungle. They gathered around her before she left. She said she had to go to America because the Big Person had told her to go. That she had something important to do here.” Casey paused. “I’m not sure who this ‘Big Person’ is. It’s possible she’s in contact with someone rich or famous or powerful here.”

  “I sort of doubt that’s who he is,” I muttered.

  “Pardon?”

  “Never mind. Look, Casey, you admit you haven’t even spoken to Aja. It’s safe to say I know her better than you do. And I can assure you that you’re trying to make something out of nothing. Yes, she’s charismatic for someone who hardly speaks. Yes, she’s very pretty. Otherwise, she’s a normal teenage girl. She’s not a superhero. She has no special powers. I’m sorry if that ruins the big story you’ve been chasing all this time but it’s the simple truth.”

  Casey considered. “I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

  I decided it was time to up the ante.

  “It’s more complicated than that. I came here to warn you. Aja’s not what the courts would call a ‘public person.’ That’s an important legal distinction because with the articles you’re printing and the videos you’re posting online, you’ve opened up yourself and your paper to a harassment suit. Her guardian, Clara Smith, is a very wealthy woman and she’s told me bluntly that if you don’t back off she’s going to take legal action against you and the Rapid City Journal.”

  I sounded awfully convincing; I impressed myself. Of course, Clara had not told me anything but I assumed she’d back my play. For the first time all evening Casey looked concerned.

  “She never took legal action against me in Brazil,” she said.

  “I doubt they had a court building in Selva. But it’s different here in America. For your own sake back off. Think about it. Keep printing this garbage and the real press will never take you seriously. You’ll ruin any chance you have at becoming a respected journalist.”

  “I can’t be sued for slander for reporting the facts.”

  “But you can be sued if you distort the facts.” I stood to leave. “I promise to ask Aja and Mike if they’ll meet with you. But I can tell you already their answer will be no.”

  Casey was angry that I was leaving. “What about ‘quid pro quo’? You haven’t given me a single insight into Aja.”

  “Yes, I did. I gave you the most important insight of all.” I leaned over and spoke in her ear. “Aja’s just a girl, like any other girl.”

  On that note I left. I knew that later, when I told Janet about the details of the meeting, she’d tell me I’d wasted my time and gasoline. But I was glad I’d come. It had been useful to confirm that Nicole was reporting to Casey. It had also been good to hear another take on Aja’s life in Selva. It reminded me of the John of God phenomenon in Brazil. It seemed there was something in the mind-set down there—or else there was something in the water—that made the people crave saints and angels.

  The meeting had also given me an insight into Casey herself. It was clear she’d been pampered all her life and was now desperate to prove her worth—or self-worth—to her father. Her admission that Daddy was interested in Aja was revealing. People believed what they wanted to believe, I thought. All you had to do was be pretty and walk around and not say much and the public would assume you were extraordinary.

  It was a pity I didn’t meet either criteria.

  It probably would have helped my music career.

  But—and this time the “BUT” inside my brain had swollen to a much greater size—Casey’s comments on Aja’s early life had done nothing to erase the doubts that continued to gnaw at me. Just when my mental picture of who Aja was would begin to steady inside another ripple would come along and blur what I knew to be a fact.

  Or else what I hoped was a fact.

  It struck me as I raced along the dark interstate that the more I learned about Aja the more she freaked me out.

  Yet none of it made me care for her any less.

  I told myself that was all that mattered.

  “Maybe I am falling in love,” I said aloud.

  When I got home I heard from Janet that Aja’s aunt had died.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE SERVICE WAS scheduled for Friday. Bart drove Aja to school on Thursday and she didn’t seem the least bit upset. Her reaction may have been justified. She told me Clara had hated living in a crippled body after her stroke and was anxious to move on. She also said her aunt had had a wonderful life. There was no reason to grieve, in her opinion.

  The service—I suppose it could have been called a funeral—was held in the afternoon at the edge of the lake behind the Carter Mansion. Except for Aja, Bart, and myself, no one in town really knew Clara Smith. She had not attended any local church and seemed to have no set religious beliefs. In her will she’d asked that her body be cremated and that her ashes be spread by Aja in the waters of the lake.

  Mike, Dale, and Janet came to the service. They drove over in the same car with me. Aja and Bart were waiting for us on the porch when we arrived. Aja had on a black dress but no shoes. She looked as serene as ever, even with the silver chalice of Aunt Clara’s ashes in her hands.

  Bart gave me a warm hu
g and thanked me for coming. It was clear he was taking Clara’s death badly. His face was puffy with tears. Bart had been with Clara for twenty years, Aja had told me.

  “He’ll miss seeing her around,” Aja said about Bart as we walked toward the lake through the thick grass. Bart strode in front of us, out of earshot, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

  “What about you?” Janet asked, and it almost appeared as if she was testing Aja. If she was, I’m not sure Aja passed the test. Aja shrugged.

  “The body’s not important,” she said.

  “That makes sense to me now,” Mike said, obviously referring to his near-death experience. Janet gave him a puzzled look. Mike had not told Janet or Shelly what had happened to him at the hospital. I had a feeling he was never going to tell them.

  This was Mike’s first day out of bed and Dale had not wanted him to come, fearing the walk to the lake would be too strenuous. But although Mike was clearly frailer than usual, he looked in no danger of collapsing.

  “You sound like one of my meditation teachers,” Janet said to Aja.

  Aja nodded but didn’t reply.

  There was no formal service. We gathered at the edge of the lake and Bart spoke of how he’d met Clara while he was a struggling actor in LA, not many years after her husband had died, and how she’d taken him as first a housekeeper and then as a friend. He told several endearing stories of the times they’d shared together and it was only then that I realized they’d been lovers. More power to them, I thought.

  Bart looked to me next and I spoke of how I’d only met Clara once but how charming I’d found her. “I’m only sad I didn’t get to spend more time with her,” I said.

  All eyes went to Aja next, Bart’s especially. It’s like he wanted to hear something special from this girl so many others thought unique. Aja looked at him and smiled.

  And she did say something special.

  “When a baby’s born people celebrate. They’re happy a new person has come into the world. But when a man or a woman dies everyone weeps. They’re sad the person is gone. The reverse should be true. Birth is difficult, for the child and the mother. But death is like being embraced by warm loving light.” Aja glanced at Mike right then, just before she stepped forward in her bare feet into the water and removed the lid from the chalice and began to sprinkle the ashes over the surface of the lake. She added, “Let us celebrate this death.”

  Bart broke down then; he wept loudly. But they were happy tears. It was as if Aja’s words had pierced his heart and soothed the pain of his loss. From my side, I was stunned. Her words had really touched me.

  Back at the house there was plenty of food and drink. It was, after all, lunchtime. Bart took me aside and explained that Clara had written me a letter before she’d died but he’d somehow misplaced it. He swore he’d find it soon.

  “I never lose anything,” he said. “I don’t know what happened to it.”

  “I’m sure it will turn up.” I added, “Sorry about what happened at the hospital.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. I heard Aja snuck away on you. She’ll do that when you least expect it. But let it be a warning to you.”

  I wasn’t sure what kind of warning it was meant to be.

  We didn’t stay long. Dale was anxious to get Mike back home and back in bed. Janet, too, said she had to get home. Apparently she had to reschedule Half Life’s gigs for the next month.

  “Hey, I can play before then,” Mike said.

  “Like hell you will,” Dale said, taking him by the arm and leading him toward the car. I cornered Aja before I lost my chance.

  “When will I see you again?” I asked.

  Her eyes shone; she appeared to be her old self. “When do you want to see me?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow night.”

  “Great,” she said.

  • • •

  The next evening I borrowed Janet’s Camry again and picked up Aja at six. I planned to take her on the date I had originally promised her. The one that included dinner in a nice restaurant in Balen followed by a movie. On the drive to our neighboring town, Aja volunteered that she could pay for the date.

  “There’s going to be a reading of Aunt Clara’s will later in the week but I know I’m in it,” she said. “Bart already told me I’m a rich girl.”

  “How does that make you feel?”

  “It doesn’t make me feel anything.”

  “Probably because your aunt’s money has always been there.”

  “I have no interest in money. You can have it if you want.”

  I had to laugh. “I wouldn’t make that offer if I were you. I might just take you up on it.”

  Aja glanced at me. “Maybe you will.”

  I wasn’t sure what Aja liked to eat. She acted like she didn’t care what was put in front of her. But I figured she had to enjoy certain dishes more than others so I had made a reservation at Benny’s, which was not only the most expensive restaurant in Balen but the only one that served a little of everything.

  Wearing a short, white silk dress and a string of her aunt’s pearls, Aja made a stunning entrance. Heads turned as we were escorted to our seats. At first I assumed it was because of her beauty but then I worried Casey’s videos might be at work. I heard a wave of whispers as we sat down. I tried to ignore them.

  “Why has it taken me so long to take you out on a real date?” I said.

  “You were just waiting until I could pay.”

  “Was that a joke? I didn’t think the Big Person cracked jokes.”

  “I might be developing some Little Person.”

  “You think?” I teased her.

  Aja hesitated, although her eyes were bright as she looked at me. “Yes. And I think you’re the cause,” she said.

  “Well, at least I’m good for something.” The menus came and we opened them. “What are you in the mood for?”

  “At home I ate a lot of fish,” she said. It was the first time I’d heard her refer to Selva as home.

  “What kind of fish?”

  “Whatever I caught in the river.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Here, tonight, we’re in a fancy restaurant. Here they cook the fish and serve it on a clean plate. You won’t have to get your hands wet, or bloody. Hey, look, they have swordfish. I love swordfish. Would you like that?”

  “That would be good.”

  Dinner was lazy, fun, delicious, and wonderful. If other people in the restaurant were gossiping about us I didn’t care. Aja got me talking about my music and, again, I suppose, I monopolized the conversation, which was easy to do around her. I didn’t bring up all the chatter about her “healings” and frankly I was glad that she appeared to have no interest in discussing the matter. The time flew by and at some point I realized we’d missed our movie. I didn’t care. All I wanted to do was stare into Aja’s eyes and hear her voice. I can’t remember ever having so much fun.

  During dessert, we were interrupted. A thin, Japanese woman in an exotic red dress and a Japanese man in an Armani tux came up to our table. The woman led the charge; the man appeared reluctant to approach us. At the same time, the woman seemed nervous.

  “I’m sorry but I need to speak to you,” the woman said to Aja. “I know who you are. I’ve read about you. It’s about my daughter. She’s very ill, she has leukemia. She’s had three courses of chemo but it keeps coming back. The doctors say there’s nothing else they can do. Her name is Keko.” She fumbled to open a tiny, red purse. “I was wondering if I could show you her picture.”

  I stood. “I don’t know what you’ve heard or read but my friend can’t help you. Please, if you could just leave us alone. I don’t mean to be rude. Truly, I am sorry about your daughter.”

  The woman persisted. “You don’t understand, Keko is dying! The doctors have given her only two months to live. She needs help.” The woman shook as she stared at Aja. “She needs you.”

  Aja went to speak but seeme
d to think better of it and remained silent. I appealed to the husband. “There’s nothing my friend can do for Keko. I’m telling you the truth.”

  The man reached for his wife’s arm. “This was a mistake. My apologies.”

  His wife shook him off and pulled a photograph from her purse. “For God’s sake, look at her!” she cried, slamming the picture down on the table. Aja picked it up and stared at it for several seconds.

  “Her body is very tired,” she said, before handing the picture back to the woman. “It will be okay.”

  The woman trembled with excitement. “Keko’s going to live?”

  “No,” Aja said.

  The woman’s face fell. Grabbing her daughter’s photo, she slapped Aja hard in the jaw. I saw it coming but was too slow to block the blow. Blood flew from Aja’s mouth onto the tablecloth. The husband wrapped both his arms around his wife and tried pulling her away. She fought him.

  “You’re a witch!” the woman screamed at Aja. “Satan’s witch!”

  The restaurant erupted in noise; people jumped to their feet. Blood continued to drip from Aja’s mouth onto the table. She grabbed a napkin and tried to stanch the flow. I hurried to the other side of the table and put my arm around her.

  “How are you? Did she break anything?”

  Aja stretched her jaw and shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  The manager of the restaurant scurried over, looking worried. He was probably envisioning a lawsuit. “Are you okay?” he asked Aja. “Should I call 911?”

  “I’m fine,” Aja repeated.

  “Your lip’s swelling.” The manager turned to a waiter. “Fetch ice from the kitchen. Ice is the best thing.”

  “Don’t bother, we’re leaving,” I said, helping Aja to her feet. She was not totally fine. The blow had hit the sweet spot on the jaw. The woman had poured all her anger into it. Aja’s legs wobbled as I helped her up.

  “I’m so sorry about this,” the manager gushed. “The Takasus—they often dine here. They’re usually so polite. I know their daughter is ill but this type of behavior is inexcusable. They’ll be hearing from me this very night, and from the owner.”