The Girl In Between series: Books 1-4

by Laekan Zea Kemp

  “Roman?” she whispered.

  “Br—” I stopped. Don’t say her name. Don’t let her love you.

  It was burning there in her eyes, the kind of love that turns your insides into glass and the person you love into stone. Every word, every sigh, every pathetic sound I made had the potential to break her or keep her safe but when it came to the two of us, I couldn’t figure out how to do one without the other.

  She stared down at me, still waiting. But instead of speaking the rest of her name I fumbled over my own, muddled and one syllable instead of two. When I finished I closed my eyes, cheeks flushed.

  “Roman,” she whispered back.

  And when I opened my eyes again Bryn was smiling and for one second I lost control and I couldn’t help but smile too.

  4

  Bryn

  I stood in the doorway until Roman’s father looked up from the paper he’d been reading. He slipped off his reading glasses, examining my face.

  I knew how it looked, stained red and swollen, lashes still wet. I’d told Dani to wait in the car, that I’d be fine. That I was fine. Because Roman had said his name. Because I’d be back. Right after graduation, I’d be back.

  “I have to go for a little while,” I said.

  “Home?”

  I took a step inside the room. Roman was sleeping and I was both disappointed and relieved. I didn’t want to say goodbye, even a temporary one, but I also didn’t want him to wake up wondering where I was or why I’d left.

  “My graduation is tomorrow night. I’ll try to come back right after.”

  Roman’s father stood. “Bryn, it’s no rush.”

  “I know but…I like being here.” And three days isn’t enough, I wanted to tell him. Three days wasn’t long enough for Roman to get better or for me to even be certain that he would. Three days wasn’t long enough for this nightmare to be over.

  “I’ll be fine.” He looked at Roman. “We’ll both be fine. Really, Bryn, you’ve done enough.”

  I looked down at Roman too. He was sleeping better, his breathing not so labored, and I thought maybe his father was right. Maybe I had done enough, or at least all I could do. But Roman hadn’t.

  I knew it was selfish, that him being awake, that him being alive at all was enough. But for some reason it wasn’t. Because I still wanted to hear his voice, to hear him say my name, to say that he remembered. I needed him to remember.

  I didn’t let myself linger. I took one last look at Roman, saving that image of his face with all the others, and then I turned to go.

  When I slid into the backseat of Dani’s car I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t. For once she and Felix were both quiet too and we drove in silence most of the way. Every road sign and county line we passed was like a thorn in the back of my throat until I almost begged Dani to turn back. But it wasn’t just because I was leaving Roman behind. For every other high school student, graduation was supposed to be the start of something. For me it would be the end. There was nothing waiting for me beyond that moment except for a hospital bed and the German equivalent of roast beef and Jell-O.

  And maybe a cure.

  Maybe. I recanted the word silently every time I strayed too far into that old hope that I could be normal. Even if Dr. Banz did find a cure for my KLS I never would be. And if he didn’t find a cure…I didn’t even want to think about it. That was the real reason I didn’t want to come home for my graduation. Because the moment I put on that gown, the moment I sat down in that chair facing the podium, the moment I received my diploma that’s all I would be able to think about. How all of it might have been for nothing.

  I swatted away every thought, curling into myself until I knew Dani couldn’t see me in the rearview mirror and then I buried my face in the seat, trembling and trying not to cry until I was exhausted with it.

  When I woke up it was dark, the headlights pooling over my front door. It opened and my mom stepped out. She was shivering, waiting for the car to roll to a stop and when it did I didn’t even have a chance to open the door before she was pulling me out. She hugged me, hard, and I felt everything in that hug, the panic finally letting go of her. Then she let go of me.

  “Never again,” she said.

  I was wide-awake but I knew that pretending to be exhausted would be my only way out of the barrage of questions, my eyes drifting closed as I followed my mom inside. My aunt was already in the kitchen, her gaze pinned to Dani who was trailing in behind me. Felix managed to escape but not before my aunt backhanded him so good he probably walked home seeing double.

  She wasn’t good at being subtle or gentle. Not like my mom who melted the second I yawned.

  “Tired?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  Someone else’s parents probably would have shaken their heads, pointing to the couch. They would have sat me down, forced me to talk. But I was fragile in ways beyond my disease; in ways I couldn’t hide there, even in the dark. She saw and she knew and she sent me to bed.

  “We’ll talk first thing in the morning.”

  I nodded again, guilt splayed for Dani to see as I headed for my room. She’d be the one imprisoned there on the couch, confessing to driving halfway across the country, covering for me when the only reason she offered to drive was because I couldn’t. She was going to lie for me. Because she was my cousin. Because she was my best friend.

  I stripped out of my clothes and laid on top of the covers, trying not to listen to their voices and instead drudging Roman’s to the surface. Not the way it had sounded next to my ear standing beneath that Dogwood tree in the dream-state or buried beneath my grandmother’s quilt before I’d left to go find him in the real world. But the way it had sounded after three days of waiting in that hospital room—thick and wrong and desperate, a severed echo of the way he’d said it that first time holding that coin from my grandfather’s collection. Roman.

  It had been thin and wary and full of questions then. But when he said it in that hospital room, even tripping over his lips in a voice that didn’t sound like his own, there was no question. He knew and I knew. That much of him was still intact.

  I wasn’t sure what Dani had said but when I got up the next morning my mom wasn’t waiting with a laundry list of questions, with accusations and anger. She was waiting with a plate of cinnamon rolls, a tired smile on her face.

  “I ironed your gown,” she said, nodding to where it was hanging over the couch.

  “Thanks.”

  “I can straighten your hair if you want, maybe do your makeup.”

  “And make sure you comb out those curls good first,” my grandmother said. “I think that punishment will certainly fit the crime.”

  My mom ignored her, still trying to spur some kind of reaction out of me to prove I was at least coherent this morning. “You’ve still got four hours before you have to leave for the ceremony, right?”

  I just nodded. We’d joked about getting ready for this day just the week before, me standing in front of the mirror while my mom tried to test-run pinning my cap in place. It was the same struggle we used to endure every Saturday morning that summer I took swimming lessons. I remembered the other moms standing around to gawk while my own tried to wrestle my curly hair under a swim cap. It never worked.

  I wanted to bring it up, to laugh about it. But I didn’t feel like laughing. I wondered when I would again.

  I picked at a cinnamon roll and my grandmother leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at me. “You were the good one, Bryn. You were my only hope.”

  “She’s not dead,” my mom said.

  “If she ran off and got herself pregnant she will be dead to me.”

  “I didn’t run off and get pregnant,” I groaned.

  “Prove it.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t indulge her.” My mom faced her and spoke under her breath. “He was in a coma.”

  “Coma. Oh, a coma…” my grandmother drawled. “You want to believe that, Elena, go right ahead. S
till doesn’t change the fact that the girl ran off.” Her voice sharpened. “If something had happened to you, Bryn…did you even think about that? That now was not the time?”

  It felt like more than a question. It felt like a warning, the mischievousness that was usually in my grandmother’s eyes replaced by only fear. And I realized it wasn’t the first time I’d seen it, that much and that intense. She’d had that same look on her face the night she’d crept into my room to ask if I was having bad dreams.

  Since then I thought she’d been on edge for the same reason my mom always was, because the episodes were lasting longer than usual and becoming more sporadic. I thought they were all just afraid of me getting worse but what if my grandmother was afraid of something else?

  “I’m sorry,” I said, the only words that could force their way to my lips.

  My grandmother threw up her hands, wiping the strange look from her face before plopping down on the couch and turning the volume up on the television full blast.

  “Is he…how’s he doing?” my mom asked.

  I finally ripped my gaze from my grandmother, not sure what my mom had just said.

  “Your friend,” she clarified. “How is he?”

  “Oh…” I tried not to look at her. “I’m not sure.”

  “Dani said he was in a car accident.”

  I nodded, hoping she wouldn’t ask me any more questions. Especially the ones I still couldn’t answer.

  “Dani said you met at a concert? Is that right?”

  I’d been afraid of that one. I didn’t want to lie to my mom but I also didn’t want her to worry. I took Dani’s lead and just nodded again.

  “If you don’t want to talk about it, we won’t. Not yet. But you can’t keep me in the dark anymore.”

  I thought about sitting in the library with Felix when we’d been trying to translate all of those cryptic German doctor’s notes, reading about Eve. He’d said the same thing. But as much as I tried to keep people out, to hide my emotions, they still knew me better than I knew myself.

  “I’m sorry,” I finally said. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  “Well, you did.”

  “I know and it won’t happen again.”

  I didn’t mention going back to New Mexico to see Roman, not yet at least. I needed my mom to forgive me and more importantly I needed her to trust me.

  “No.” She shook her head. “It won’t.”

  Dani and my aunt came over before we had to leave for the ceremony to take some pictures. I could tell my aunt was still angry, pushing Dani around the yard, huffing every time she snapped a picture. Dani just rolled her eyes.

  “Last night was a nightmare,” Dani said when we finally managed to escape to the car.

  As we peeled out of the driveway I slammed against the seat. “In a hurry?”

  “I really wish I’d applied somewhere out of state. I’ve got to get out of that house.”

  “It was that bad?”

  “Oh, it was bad. I’m grounded until I can find somewhere else to live.”

  “She kicked you out?”

  “No. I just mean that’s the only way I’ll get my freedom back.”

  “I’m sorry, Dani. It was my fault. Did you tell her that?”

  Dani shrugged. “I didn’t tell her much. That’s probably why she got so pissed off.” We stopped at a red light. “I didn’t really know what to tell her.” Dani looked at me. “I mean I don’t even really understand what happened. He was in a coma, Bryn, and then he just woke up.”

  We idled there until someone honked. Dani pressed on the gas. I was quiet until we pulled into the parking lot of the civic center.

  Then I finally said, “I kissed him.”

  “What?”

  I hesitated but Dani’d earned the truth. “When I went back into his room. I was sitting there, whispering to him, trying to get him to wake up. Part of me wasn’t sure he would.” I looked down at my hands. “I felt like it had all been for nothing and I was so fucking broken. So I kissed him.”

  “And he woke up…”

  “I pulled away and then he opened his eyes.”

  “Shit.” She gripped the steering wheel even though we were parked.

  “I know.” I exhaled, trying not to cry again. “But now he can’t even…”

  “Hey.”

  Dani put her hand on my shoulder and that’s when I realized my hands were already wet. I wiped my eyes.

  “What if you were right?” I asked. “About him not being the same or not getting better. What if he doesn’t?”

  “I’m not,” Dani said. “And he will.”

  “But you saw him. He couldn’t even speak.”

  “It takes time, Bryn. He was in a coma for six months. You don’t just wake up from that totally healed.” She gripped my hand. “You don’t just wake up from that at all. But he did.”

  “And if he doesn’t get better?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “You’re missing the miracle here. He woke up. For you. So who cares what the statistics say or what his doctors think? He woke up and yeah, I’m sure it’ll be hard and long and miserable but not impossible. You’ve proven that.”

  Impossible. Our whole relationship had been impossible. From the way he'd landed in my memories before we'd even met to the way my lips had drawn him back into his body. Nothing that had happened between us was rational or believable or normal. But maybe the truth was there was no such thing. Maybe there was no normal and there was no impossible. Not when we were together.

  I leaned over the console, hooking Dani by the neck and hugging her hard.

  "Did I actually say something profound?" she said.

  I laughed. "I think so."

  Someone banged on the hood of Dani's car. I looked up and saw Felix.

  "I'm grounded for the rest of my life," Dani said as we followed him inside the auditorium. "What'd you get?"

  He smiled. "They didn't even notice."

  "What?" Dani glared at him.

  "The joys of having four younger siblings," he said.

  "Am I really the only one who got in trouble for this? It wasn't even my idea!"

  Felix doubled over laughing and Dani crossed her arms, waiting for him to regain his composure.

  "I'm sorry, Dani,” I said. “Really..."

  "Well, you should be. It's bullshit."

  We finally found our seats and it was the first time since freshman year that we were all in the same room together, every former friend and enemy and everyone in between crammed in the concrete loading area with no air conditioning.

  I kept my head down as my mind traced the rows to Drew’s seat. I thought about that night he’d come to my room. He’d wanted me back. He’d wanted us back. But then I’d told him there was no us anymore and for the first time in my life I’d meant it.

  Under normal circumstances my first instinct would have been to hide from him until the ceremony was over but after finding Roman, after watching him wake up, avoiding the past felt just as superficial and pointless as planning for the future. Drew felt like a stranger, someone I’d met in passing rather than the person I’d spent every Friday night with since we were freshmen. In a lot of ways I felt like a stranger too and I found myself staring at the side of Dani’s face just to tether myself to this moment and remind myself that I was still a part of it regardless of how far away I really felt.

  A lull settled over the students as music poured from the main stage. They started lining us up and I sat there, looking at every face, waiting for that sting I'd felt at prom. But this day wasn't really about some culmination of my entire high school experience. It wasn't even about goodbyes. It was about me. What I'd done despite everything.

  When it was finally my turn to accept my diploma I walked across the stage in a daze, immediately looking up to find my mom, because I hadn’t done this alone. Her face was flushed; her hand raised. My eyes flashed up to the top of the stairs and then I saw my dad.

  He was still wearing
his baseball cap but I could tell he’d shaved. He was gripping his chin but he wasn’t looking at me. He was scanning the crowd, the seats near the railing, looking for my mom.

  After the ceremony Dani and I met everyone under one of the trees that lined the parking lot, my grandmother running her fingers through my hair that was already starting to curl again as my mom pulled me into a tight hug.

  “I’m so proud of you,” she said.

  I caught her heartbeat and it felt so constant. Even though I knew it wasn’t. Even though after all I’d been through I knew nothing ever really was. The tears came then, running down her face and dropping onto my neck. But I knew they weren’t just from the day—they were from every day—and suddenly I felt awful. Because I felt everything. Everything I’d put her through, intentional and not, from having KLS and just from being a teenager.

  “I love you,” I said.

  She looked at me and answered the one question I’d always been afraid to ask. “I know.”

  I thought I heard my uncle say something else about where I wanted to go for dinner, my mom suggesting some place uptown while my grandmother reminded us there was still leftover pizza in the fridge. But I wasn't really listening to any of them. When the crowd exiting the building started to disperse I was looking for my dad. For a minute I wondered if I'd imagined him and when I didn't see him come down the auditorium steps I decided that I probably had.

  The restaurant was packed, the six of us crammed in a booth made for four. We'd been there for less than twenty minutes and my grandmother had already insulted the decor, the complimentary bread, and our waitress who had the face of a fourteen-year-old and looked six months pregnant.

  My grandmother nodded to the waitress, then to Dani and me. "You two made it out by the skin of your teeth." Dani ignored her, about to butter her roll, but then my grandmother swatted it out of her hands. “If you’re not going away to school you should be busy looking for a husband and no one wants to marry a cow.”

  Dani was slack-jawed. Now she probably wouldn’t eat for a week. I thought about saying something but I just didn’t have the energy.