“You bet. I’ll even bring you some new Books on Tape.”
He held out his hand and she reached out and grasped it. His grip felt warm and strong and she wished she didn’t ever have to let go. “You take care of yourself,” he said.
“You too.”
“You did mean what you said the other night about staying friends, didn’t you?”
“I meant it.” She was telling him what he wanted to hear and only hoped he wouldn’t hate her when he figured out the truth—that she had no intention of ever seeing him again.
Without warning, Kyle reached up and caught the side of her face with his hand. She gasped, but then realized he was cupping the right side, the normal side. “Don’t be mad,” he said softly. “I’ve wanted to touch you for the longest time.”
Just so long as his fingers didn’t venture to the left side of her face, she didn’t mind. “It’s all right,” she said, glad she had crutches for support because her knees had gone weak with anxiety and emotion.
He smoothed his thumb along her cheek, brushing the fringe of her eyelashes and the bridge of her nose. Too close! her mind warned. Carley pulled back. “Please don’t,” he whispered. “Can I touch your hair?” She gulped. “Okay.”
His fingers moved upward until they stroked the tips of her thick, dark hair. He wound strands around his hand, tugging them gently, tenderly. He rolled long clusters between his thumb and fingers, as if testing the texture. As if tasting it with his sense of touch. He reached higher, combed his fingers through the thickness, and said, “Very soft. I figured it would be.”
Her breath caught in her throat and she could scarcely breathe. Tears stung her eyes. She longed to have him kiss her. If only … if only.
He withdrew his hand and brought his fingers to his nose and sniffed deeply. “Smells like flowers. And sunshine.” He turned his face toward her, and she touched the corners of the bandages on his eyes. They were the barrier that held him prisoner, yet protected her. “I’ve noticed that scent every time you’ve come into my room. I’ve wondered if it was your hair or some perfume.”
“New shampoo. The ad campaign said it would drive guys wild,” she joked, hoping to make him laugh and break the tension.
He smiled. “Funny girl. But you don’t always have to make a joke.”
Humor was the only way she knew of dealing with intense emotional moments. “I’ve got to go.” She stepped backward.
“I’ll be seeing you, pretty Carley.”
She winced because his words had stung. “Goodbye, Kyle.”
She hurried next door, where her mother looked up from the suitcase she was packing. “There you are. I wondered where you ran off to.” She paused and eyed Carley narrowly. “Are you all right? You look like you’re crying.”
“I’m fine, Mom. I was just saying goodbye.”
Her mother shook her head, bemused. “You never cease to amaze me. You’ve always said you hated hospitals, and now you’re crying because you have to leave this one. I’d have thought you’d never wanted to see the inside of this place again.”
“I don’t, Mom. Call the nurse and tell her I’m ready for the wheelchair ride downstairs.” She turned to the mirror and stared at the twisted half of her face, then jerked her hair back into a ponytail. Suddenly she didn’t want anything to obstruct her true image, her real self. She didn’t want to forget that what Kyle had made her feel was an illusion. She would never be normal. Or pretty. She mustn’t ever forget. Never!
At home Carley moped around the house for the rest of the afternoon, unable to shake a case of the blues. She missed the routine of the hospital. Most of all, she missed Kyle. The next morning Janelle asked, “You want a ride to school? Jon’s picking me up.”
“I’ll catch the bus,” Carley said. “The sooner I get back into my regular routine, the better.”
“Mom wants me to take you to PT tomorrow afternoon. Trouble is I have ensemble practice every day after school. State competition is in March, and if we don’t practice every day, we’ll never get a superior rating.”
“I can drive myself.”
“Tell that to Mom.”
“I’m telling you, I can drive. There’s nothing wrong with my right foot, and that’s the one that controls the car.”
“You’ll have to clear it with Mom,” Janelle said.
“How will you get home if I persuade her?”
“Jon will bring me.”
“I forgot about lover boy.”
“Be nice. I’ll give up ensemble practice on the days you have PT if Mom says you can’t drive yourself.”
“You shouldn’t have to do that.”
Janelle shrugged. “I hate practice.”
But Carley could tell that her sister really did want to practice. It was her senior year and her final opportunity to earn a superior rating at state chorus competitions. “Let me talk to Mom.”
At school she felt as she always did—a nonparticipant, on the outside looking in. Her classes weren’t a struggle; schoolwork came easily to her. But blending into the social scenery was something else again. A few kids spoke to her, asked her how her leg was doing, but most looked past her. Or over her. Or through her as if she hardly existed. She couldn’t wait for the bell to ring, marking the end of the day, so that she could go home and forget all about high school and how she didn’t fit in.
She told herself that in a few days she’d toughen up and it wouldn’t matter. But the truth was that someone—Kyle—had treated her as if she were pretty and desirable. Now she had to return to being the ugly duckling, and it was difficult.
She was deep in thought, fiddling with the combination lock on her locker after school, balancing books and crutches, knowing she had to hurry if she was going to make it to her bus stop, when her notebook slipped from her hands and spilled on the hall floor.
Kids pouring out of rooms scurried past, stepping all over the binder. She could only watch helplessly, for she was unable to stoop down and rescue her notebook for fear of being trampled. All at once a boy’s voice said, “Let me get that for you, babe.”
She spun, forgetting to shield her face. Her rescuer was tall with dark hair and brown eyes. He was smiling, but as he caught sight of her face, his smile faded, and shocked surprise took its place. “I’ll get it,” she snapped, and struggled to hold her crutches with one hand while she bent over.
Then another male voice intervened. “Problems, Carley?”
It was Jon. He stooped and gathered up her notebook and scattered papers. He stood and glared at the other boy, still standing, staring. Jon snarled, “What’s your problem? If you’re not going to help, get out of the way.”
The boy darted off.
“Dumb jerk,” Jon muttered under his breath.
Carley straightened, her body burning with humiliation. “Thanks for retrieving my stuff,” she said, grabbing for the notebook.
Jon held it back. “Wait.”
“I’ve got to hurry or I’ll miss my bus.” She couldn’t bear to look him in the eye. Couldn’t stand knowing that he’d seen her humiliated by a stranger’s look.
“I’m hanging around waiting for Janelle. Will you wait with me?” Jon asked.
“I can’t.”
Jon reached out and took her arm. “I want to talk to you, Carley. There’re some things I need to say. Some things I have to say. You can get a ride home with Janelle and me, so don’t run off. Hear me out. Please.”
Twelve
The second bell rang and Carley sighed. “Well, I don’t have much choice, do I? I’ll never make it in time to catch my bus now.”
Jon took her books and stacked them atop his. “Come on,” he urged. “Where to?” “To the atrium.”
The high school was built in the shape of a wheel, with the atrium at its hub and halls poking outward like spokes. With benches, potted plants, and a large overhead skylight, the atrium became an indoor student gathering place between classes and before and after school hours. Once the
re, Carley settled on a concrete bench emblazoned with the school seal. Jon sat down beside her and gestured toward the Fine Arts hallway. “Janelle has to come this way, so she’ll see us.”
Carley looked at her watch. Janelle wouldn’t be out of practice for another forty-five minutes. She didn’t think she and Jon could fill up the time simply talking, but she had no choice. “All right,” she said, folding her hands in her lap, “What do you want to say to me? Ask suggestions for a Valentine’s Day gift for my sister?”
“Buying Janelle presents isn’t ever a problem.”
Carley hadn’t figured it would be. Pretty girls like Janelle always got gifts for Valentine’s Day. “So then what can lowly little me do for you?”
“First off, I’m really crazy about Janelle.” “So tell me something I don’t know.” “I also know you don’t like me very much and I want to tell you that I don’t blame you. I’ve acted like a real jerk.”
Amazed by his confession, Carley stared at him. “Well, we do agree on some things.”
In spite of her put-down, Jon smiled. “You do have a way of delivering a line, Carley.”
“Don’t you know? Comedy is my forte.”
He rubbed the palms of his hands over the fabric of his jeans, and she could tell that he was nervous. “I know that you could have ruined things between Janelle and me if you wanted to.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Some girls might have done it. If … if they overheard their sister’s boyfriend saying rude stuff he didn’t mean.”
Carley shrugged, remembering the day in the gym when she’d heard him call her a dog. “It’s ancient history, Jon. No use dredging it up.”
“It was dumb of me. I didn’t know you were there that day, and I was smarting off for the guys, acting like a big shot. I’m really sorry because I know it hurt you.”
He looked miserable, and she almost felt sorry for him. “I’ve heard worse,” she said. “When a person doesn’t look normal, she hears a lot worse.”
“I haven’t been able to forget it,” he said. “Especially now that I know you better. And now that I know how much Janelle cares about you.”
“She does?” Carley was mildly surprised. She’d always thought of Janelle as somewhat self-centered and too focused on her own life to have much interest in Carley’s.
“She’s like a bulldog sometimes. Nobody dares say anything mean about you, ’cause if she hears about it, she marches right up to them and makes them apologize. She tells them what a hero you are to have survived cancer and show up in school every day in spite of the way the doctors left your face. I heard her go off on someone once, and after five minutes of talking about how brave and special you are, she had the girl in tears.”
Carley couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d told her Janelle had sprouted a second head. “Janelle? My sister?”
“Don’t you know how much she protects you?”
At a loss for words, Carley shook her head.
“Well, she does. She’s changed my viewpoint about people who are handicapped. Or at least, people who aren’t normal. And after getting to know you better, I agree with her. You’re all right, Carley. You kept my secret when you could have ruined things between me and Janelle.”
She blinked, and turned her head, overwhelmed by both his apology and his revelation about her sister’s fierce loyalty toward her. “I wouldn’t try to break up the two of you.”
“You know that thing she did for you at the hospital with the guy next door—pretending to be you—was hard on her.”
“I know she hated to lie for me.”
“It was more than that,” Jon said. “She told me later that sitting in that wheelchair gave her a new perspective on the world. She told me that she thinks it should be mandatory for every healthy teenager in the country to go around in a wheelchair for one day so that they can see what life’s like for people who are maimed or deformed. She said that the world looks different when you’re eye level with a person’s waist and helpless.”
Carley saw admiration stamped all over his face and realized that she’d been as guilty of prejudice toward Janelle as others often were of her. How had she been so oblivious of her own sister’s thoughts and feelings? “I’m glad you told me,” Carley said. “I think I am … geez, now I’ll have to really be nice to her.”
Jon grinned and stood up. “I’ve never felt about any girl the way I feel about Janelle. I mean, she’s pretty and all, but she’s also special in other ways.”
“You’re a real cheerleader, Jon.”
His face reddened. “Look, I didn’t mean to go on and on. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go telling her that I turned into a slobbering puppy over her.”
“Well, as one dog to another, I think I can keep your secret,” Carley said with a straight face.
Jon looked startled. “I told you I was sorry about saying that.”
“I’m kidding,” she said with a smile. “Lighten up.”
He grinned sheepishly. “Thanks for understanding.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
Just then Janelle came sauntering up the hallway, books balanced on her hip. “Hi, you two.” She glanced from one to the other. “Boy, you look deep in conversation. Am I interrupting anything? What’s up?”
“Nothing,” Carley and Jon said in unison.
Janelle eyed them suspiciously. “It doesn’t look like nothing.”
“You’re out early,” Carley said, switching gears.
“Only fifteen minutes. I thought you were taking the school bus home.”
“I changed my mind.”
“I asked her to ride with us,” Jon explained.
“So, let’s get home.” Carley stood and retrieved her crutches. “I have homework to do.”
“I’ve got your books,” Jon said. “I’ll carry them to the car.”
Quickly he and Carley took off side by side, leaving a befuddled Janelle to tag along behind.
It wasn’t until the next afternoon when Janelle was driving Carley to her PT appointment that Janelle brought up the incident again. Their mother had categorically refused to allow Carley to drive herself At least not until she was farther along in her therapy.
Janelle said, “When I came up yesterday, the two of you were totally engrossed in conversation. And when I said hello, you both acted as if I’d intruded on some clandestine meeting.”
“You want to talk about this now?”
“Why not? I think the two of you were up to something and it involved me.”
Carley felt her cheeks color. “Not true. We were just talking.”
“Let’s not argue. Just tell me what you and Jon were talking about.”
Carley thought fast. “Urn—Valentine’s Day. He was asking my opinion on what to get you.”
“I know you don’t care for Jon.” Janelle ignored the whole Valentine’s Day story. “He’s all right.”
“You said that before, but you didn’t mean it.”
“I’ve changed my opinion.” “Why?”
Carley sighed, and fiddled with the buttons on the radio. “I’ve gotten to know him and there’s more to him than I once thought.”
“Such as.” Janelle repositioned the car’s rearview mirror.
“He’s not a total loser.”
“Thanks for the endorsement.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. I wasn’t sure Jon liked me. It seemed as if he was always avoiding me, and I figured it was because he couldn’t deal with my looks.”
“Jon’s not that way.” Janelle defended him.
“I know that now. I’m just not around guys very much, so sometimes I don’t know what to say. Or how to act.”
“You do all right with Kyle.”
“You know he’s different.”
“Are you going to visit him today after your PT appointment?”
Carley stared out the window. The Tennessee countryside looked brown and stark, making her realize what a lo
ng, dreary month January could be. “I’m not sure I should.”
“Why not?”
“Why prolong the agony? Once I left the hospital, I made up my mind to forget about him.”
Janelle pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the physical therapy building attached to the Knoxville hospital. She put the car into park and turned off the engine. “I think you’re making a mistake,” she said quietly.
“How could it be a mistake to keep some guy who thinks I’m beautiful from learning the truth?” Carley leaned her head against the seat headrest and looked up through the windshield into the blustery gray sky. Without the engine to keep the heater going, the car’s interior was chilling fast.
“Because you’ve got a rotten perception of physical beauty and its importance,” Janelle said. “Because, believe me, being pretty isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. In fact sometimes it’s the most awful burden in the world.”
Thirteen
“I find that really hard to believe,” Carley said after a few minutes had passed in silence. “How can being pretty be a handicap?”
“Because when a person’s pretty, that’s all people expect her to be. She isn’t appreciated for anything except her physical appearance.”
“What’s so horrible about that?” Carley wanted to know. “I think it would be nice to have somebody look at me and say, ‘She’s pretty,’ instead of ‘Look, a freak.’ ”
“Anybody who puts a value on another person just because of his or her physical attractiveness is pitiful.” Janelle’s hazel eyes fairly crackled with conviction. “I don’t want people hanging around with me because I look good, but because they like me.”
“Get a grip,” Carley insisted. “That’s just not the way things are in the real world. All my life I’ve heard kids make fun of other kids because they were different—even before this happened to my face. I remember in the fifth grade there was this fat girl in my class. She wore thick glasses, too, and everybody made fun of her. Sometimes to the point of making her cry.”
Carley dropped her gaze as she spoke, recalling the girl with clarity. “I’m sorry to say I teased her too. In fact after my surgery I wondered if leaving me deformed was God’s way of paying me back for being mean to her.”
True Love Page 21
