Blood

by Francine Pascal

  “Okay, then. See you later.” The door shut silently.

  As Ed began to do the repetitive stretching movements that kept his leg muscles from atrophying further, he realized that his mother was making progress. For almost six months after the accident she had refused to leave him alone in the house in case he fell or needed something. In case he would commit suicide while they were out.

  For her to leave with such a show of casualness was a big step forward. Ed grunted as he gripped his left ankle and flexed it. It didn’t hurt, of course, but he could feel his back muscles pulling. Forty minutes of this, then half an hour of free weights for upper-body strength. Months ago, when Ed had decided that he would go on living even in this form, he had realized there were things he could do that would marginally improve his existence. Trying to keep what was left of his body in shape was one of them. Making friends, keeping connected to other people, was another. Trying to date, to think of himself and others in a romantic, sexual way, was a third.

  It seemed like he was down to one out of three. He knew he needed somebody—a friend, a lover. He had been hoping Gaia was that person. But maybe he needed to reexamine his options.

  Making Sam Heel

  “LOOK AT THIS PILE OF CRAP,” Heather said in disgust. Phoebe glanced up from her magazine, looked around the room, and nodded. Piles of clothes were on every spare surface of Heather’s bedroom. They almost swamped Phoebe on the bed and covered the small rocker in the corner and most of the floor.

  “This is a humongous pile of crap,” Heather said again. “All this stuff and I can’t find one cute outfit.”

  “I know what you mean,” said Phoebe. “All of my stuff is horrible—totally last year. And it doesn’t fit. I just want to go shopping all day long and get some stuff that’s decent.”

  Heather sagged against her bed. “Me too.”

  In the past day or two Heather had been trying to think of what to do about Phoebe’s condition. She couldn’t tell her friends, and she hadn’t seen Sam in days. Who else was there? She just had to shut up about it and try to enjoy hanging out with Phoebe without talking about anything controversial. Like food. Or weight. Or bodies.

  Before all this happened, Heather wouldn’t have believed how often and in how many different situations a person could mention one of those topics. Staying off these subjects reduced her conversation by about eighty percent. She thought about all the times she had moaned about her weight or her size or her waistline. Now she wished she hadn’t wasted her breath.

  “Feeb—what’s going to happen?” Heather asked.

  Phoebe looked up, her face closing.

  “I mean about Dad, and the money and all,” Heather clarified. “I mean, how long am I supposed to wear these clothes?” Of course, the question was bigger than that, and both sisters knew it.

  Taking a deep breath, Phoebe said, “I don’t know. Mom said something once about Grandma Nancy helping out, but I don’t know what that means.”

  “Do you think Mom is going back to work?” Heather asked.

  “Get real,” Phoebe scoffed. “What would all her friends think? No, I think Mom and Dad are just going to keep doing what they’re doing and hope it all turns out okay.”

  “But—”

  “Listen, try not to worry about it,” Phoebe advised, rolling off Heather’s bed and standing up. In her black leggings and wide-wale corduroy shirt she looked model thin and chic. Except that her leggings were baggy. Heather didn’t know Lycra could be baggy. “Everything will be okay. I’ve got to get over to Sasha’s house. See you later.”

  “Later,” said Heather.

  For three minutes Heather lay among the pile of clothes on her bed, wallowing in self-pity. Then she remembered that she was Heather Gannis, dammit, and she deserved better than this. Even from herself.

  She picked up the phone and hit memory dial #1. Sam himself actually answered. Miracle of miracles.

  “Hi, Sam. It’s me,” Heather said, feeling the warm fuzzies starting to come over her.

  “Hi,” Sam replied. His voice was so adorable, so husky, sexy. “I feel like it’s been ages since I saw you. We really need to get together.”

  “Yeah, we do,” Heather agreed happily. “I really miss you. How’s the studying going?”

  Sam groaned. “I feel like I live at the library. I only came home to shower.”

  “But the semester just started,” Heather felt compelled to point out.

  “I know. I’m just trying to get off on the right foot. I’ve got four bitch classes this semester, and I’ve got to finish that incomplete in comparative anatomy from last semester.”

  The warm fuzzies were being slowly, surely replaced by a feeling of resentment. “Sam,” Heather began, trying to keep her voice reasonable. “We’re supposed to be going out. Supposed to be boyfriend and girlfriend. But we never see each other anymore. I mean, I spent New Year’s with my girlfriends!”

  A sigh on the other end.

  “You’re right,” came Sam’s unbelievable answer.

  Hope bloomed once more.

  “I’m sorry,” he continued. “Dad gave me such a hard time over Christmas that I kind of freaked out about my grades. But you’re right—I can’t study twenty-four hours a day. And we do need to talk.”

  “Not just talk,” Heather said suggestively. She was smiling and twirling the phone cord around her wrist. Finally Sam was saying some things she actually felt like hearing. There was a chance he just might come through for her after all. She could even tell him about Phoebe. After all, he was premed. He might have some idea what Heather could do.

  “Yeah. Listen, what about tomorrow?” Sam suggested. “After classes I’ll take the day off from studying. Unless … are you busy after school?”

  “Nope,” Heather said happily. “I could come over to your place. We could hang out for a while, maybe get something to eat over on MacDougal. I just want to see you.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Sam said. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Bye, Sam,” Heather said. “Can’t wait to see you.”

  He’d already hung up.

  never show weakness

  They might play this game out for another hour, but the end was now certain. Gaia would win.

  No Matter How Cold

  TRY AS HE MIGHT, ED COULDN’T think of a single thing worse than a freezing, wet Monday morning in January when he had to go to school, when Gaia had completely ripped out his heart and was probably doing reckless, dangerous, or stupid things or all three, when he had just lost one of his good friends, and when he had a very visible cut on his cheek from getting mugged over the weekend. Was there anything that could be worse? He thought about it for a second.

  Ed’s locker was on the lower tier, of course, since he’d lost almost three feet in height since junior year. Wheeling up to it, he flipped open its combination lock and started to rummage through the unorganized mess inside, looking for something resembling this morning’s books.

  Okay, here’s a thought: Ed wakes up; there’s nothing for breakfast except Fiber One cereal. Over breakfast his folks tell him they’re getting divorced because his dad has decided he was meant to be a woman and is having a sex change. Right after that announcement their house catches on fire and burns to the ground, and Ed is carried out of the burning building in nothing but his boxers. Outside in the freezing weather in his boxers, with his scrawny white legs showing, every hot girl he’s ever wanted shows up and sees him. Well, okay, that might be worse than the way he felt this morning.

  Clawing through the wreckage in his locker, Ed pulled out some notebooks and a couple of possibly appropriate textbooks and dropped them into one of the side bags attached to his wheelchair. Side bags, cup holders—what was next? Maybe some kind of James Bond rocket engines strapped to the back so Ed could shoot down school corridors at Mach 1.

  Ed laughed hollowly at this scenario as the school bell rang and the halls suddenly emptied. Like rats, students scurried into classes, boo
ks tucked under their arms. Ed slammed his locker shut and started to wheel off to his first class. Then he saw a tall, slim, wild-haired goddess stride around the corner and fling open her locker. As usual, Gaia had avoided being on time. Her mouth pressed into a thin line, she stooped to drop her bag on the ground, then straightened slowly to rifle through her locker contents. Ed saw her find a forgotten, half-smushed Ding Dongs package, which she tucked into her bag with satisfaction.

  Every time he saw Gaia, Ed’s heart sped up, his breathing quickened, his pupils dilated. For some reason—okay, a million reasons—Gaia was very special to him. But today things were going to be different. She had stepped over the line. He knew she hadn’t meant what she said. Couldn’t have meant it. But that didn’t make it any less hurtful.

  Slowly Ed rolled down the hall. He had to pass her to get to his first class, just as she had to pass him to get to her chem lab. In an instant a dozen different scenarios raced through his head as he considered his approach. How should he be? Reproachful, normal, angry, mean, sad? He decided to just ignore her.

  As usual, Gaia took the initiative away from him. As he was formulating the perfect greeting, she looked up, glanced at his face, and frowned.

  “What happened to you? Cut yourself shaving?”

  For one awful second Ed had a flashback to Friday night, being mugged in the dark by some scumbag with a knife. He could have been killed. As it was, his wallet and his pride had been ripped away from him, leaving him wanting to crawl into a dark hole and disappear. And this is the concern he got? A frown and a snappy remark? Besides, he thought Gaia didn’t want to talk to him. Wasn’t that what she had said?

  Suddenly Ed was very tired. Tired of not getting what he needed from someone he’d thought was his best friend. Tired of playing games to get Gaia to notice him, to take him seriously, to feel for him what he felt for her. He was exhausted—too exhausted to play anymore.

  “Mugged by asshole with knife,” Ed said shortly, continuing on past Gaia.

  A strong hand reached out and yanked his wheelchair to a halt. Blue eyes bored into his, then flicked across his cut cheek, assessing the damage. In that moment Ed saw concern, anger, sympathy, and some unnamable emotion in Gaia’s eyes. In the next moment her eyes went blank, as if she had pulled down a shade over her mind.

  Gaia straightened. “Any other damage?” she asked, making it sound casual.

  His lips tightened. “No. No other damage.”

  Turning back to her locker, Gaia stuffed in her puffy ski jacket, holding it in place with one hand while strategically slamming the locker shut with the other. Bedraggled feathers whisked into the air and swirled crazily before floating downward.

  That was it, Ed realized. That would be the sum of her response to his almost getting killed. Some friend she was. Anger rushed through his veins, making him feel flushed and reckless and mean.

  “Going to Mary’s funeral on Wednesday?”

  For a split second Gaia froze. If Ed had blinked, he would have missed it. It wasn’t quite the gratifying response he had hoped for.

  “God, no,” came Gaia’s reply. Then she tied her avocado green wool sweater around her waist and hitched up her books.

  Angrily Ed pushed against her jean-clad hip. “Get out of my way,” he snapped, then looked up in surprise at Gaia’s sharply indrawn breath. She pulled back away from him, breathing tightly.

  “I’m not in your way,” she said. She turned and walked in the other direction, moving slowly and deliberately, not looking back.

  Ed spun away, rolling down the hall fast. This day had, in fact, just gotten worse.

  She Had a Lover

  “HEATHER, IT’LL BE GREAT,” MEGAN said. She leaned forward to get closer to the industrial mirror attached to the school’s second-floor bathroom wall. At the row of five white, matching sinks, she occupied the last one. An open makeup bag was propped by the pitted silver cold-water handle.

  “Look, first dinner at Dojo’s,” Megan went on. “Then we could hit Melody’s and see who’s playing. Come on. Don’t stand us up for Phoebe again.”

  Heather peered at herself in her own mirror. She took a tiny dab of gloss and smoothed it over her sable brown eyebrows, making them shiny and perfectly shaped.

  “Sorry, no can do,” she said.

  Megan paused and regarded her friend. “Heather, you hardly come out with us anymore.” she complained.

  Yeah, and you probably spent close to two hundred bucks last weekend, thought Heather. Sorry, but I don’t think my allowance will really cover that. She smeared a dab of olive shadow in the crease of her lid, then redid her raisin-colored lip stain.

  “So what are you doing today that you can’t come with us?” Megan asked, her jaw set. She turned and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Heather looked at her. She and Megan had been friends for six years, ever since junior high at Brearly. They used to be able to tell each other practically anything. Heather remembered long, sleepless nights spent at Heather’s family’s summer house, where the girls would stay up, eating, talking, and laughing until the sun came up.

  But now everything was different. Megan’s life had continued on normally. Her parents had gotten divorced, but that was no biggie. Practically everyone’s parents did, sooner or later. Her mom had gotten remarried. Her father had moved to France. All that meant was that now Megan had fabulous summers in Europe while Heather sweltered in the city.

  “I went with you to Ozzie’s on Friday,” Heather pointed out.

  Megan rolled her eyes. “That was Friday. Now, why can’t you come tonight?”

  “As it so happens, I’m seeing Sam,” said Heather, unable to keep the triumph out of her voice. Sam was the one big status symbol she still had, that she could still flaunt.

  Sure enough, Megan looked impressed. “I thought you guys were doing the on-again, off-again thing.”

  “We’re on again,” Heather said with a shrug. “I’m going over there now to hang out, and maybe we’ll grab a pizza.”

  “Well, good,” said Megan. “I’m glad he’s decided to surface.”

  Heather nodded. “He’s been studying like crazy.” She tucked in her shirt and smoothed it down over her hips. Then she rubbed the tops of her black loafers on the backs of her chinos to shine up the tops. “But I finally said, ‘Sam, you have to make time for us, too, you know.’”

  “What did he say?” Megan asked.

  “He apologized,” Heather said, a coy smile playing around her lips. “He said I was right. And he blew off a bunch of stuff so we could be together today.”

  “Cool.”

  There it was. The envious tone was back in Megan’s voice. God, that sounded so good. Heather felt very cheerful and generous. She put a hand on Megan’s shoulder and gave her a warm smile. “Don’t give up on me, okay?” she said lightly. “I definitely want to hang with you guys. It’s just I need to see Sam, too.”

  “Oh, sure, of course,” said Megan, all her irritation gone. She smiled slyly. “You need to keep him happy.”

  Heather laughed, feeling cool and sophisticated: She had a lover. A college guy lover. She was Heather Gannis, and for a few moments she could forget about everything: Phoebe, her parents, and even Sam’s frustrating flakiness. Right at this moment everything was perfect.

  Blitz

  WORDLESSLY GAIA MOVED HER ROOK to bishop’s seven, then glanced up into Zolov’s face. Zolov looked older than dirt today; a week’s worth of straggly white whiskers blurred the edges of his face, and his threadbare trench coat was streaked with something that looked like motor oil. His eyes were deeply sunken, his wrinkles more sharply defined. The cold air had chapped his skin and lips and now whipped through the sparse, whitish gray hair on his hatless head. Last week he’d had a maroon polyester knit cap. Gaia wondered what had happened to it.

  Zolov considered the board for long minutes. One hand in a fingerless glove stroked his rough chin as he pondered. In the months Gaia had been hanging out
among the chess junkies in Washington Square Park, Zolov was the closest thing to an international grand master that she’d seen. Despite being homeless, despite his ragged clothes, unkempt hair, and sour, permeating body smell, still, he was a truly brilliant player, and Gaia had learned some interesting middle game forms from him.

  She waited impatiently for him to make his move. It was twilight in the park, that strange half hour between day and night when it was difficult to see clearly. The overhead lamps had just flickered on, casting their sickly yellow-gray glow over the snow-flecked asphalt and the concrete benches where they sat. After school Gaia had gone first to Tompkins Square Park, then here, trolling every path, making perimeter checks, until she was sure Skizz wasn’t around. Today the plan was to simply hang here until she couldn’t stay awake any longer. She had spotted Skizz on Saturday and had dragged herself back to the park yesterday only to strike out again. It was enough to make her scream. If she wasn’t looking for Skizz, he’d probably be in her face every twenty minutes for some reason or another. Now she was sitting on this frozen bench, killing time by playing Zolov. Her leg and hip were aching with a deep, painful throb that made her whole being coil with tension. Okay, she would stay here till midnight, then go back to the Nivens’ and soak in a hot bath. Just the thought of sinking into the steamy water was enough to make her almost moan.

  Zolov reached out with one gnarled hand and carefully moved his king to king’s three. On the sidelines his red Power Ranger stood steadfast. The Power Ranger was Zolov’s talisman—something he was never without, something he guarded fiercely. Gaia had seen Zolov asleep on a park bench, with the tiny feet of the plastic Power Ranger tucked into the ratty scarf looped around his neck.

  Sitting back, Zolov hacked a couple of times, a hollow, rattling sound coming from his concave chest. As she examined the board, Gaia wondered if Zolov had pneumonia.

  Then, like a computer, Gaia’s mind raced forward, seeing all the different possibilities, the different permutations of play. Her blue eyes widened as she saw Zolov’s fatal flaw. It couldn’t be. He had goofed. With that one move he had sentenced himself to a sure loss. They might play this game out for another hour, but the end was now certain. Gaia would win. It was amazing.