Music Man: Better. I was with you.
The phone rings, and I grope for the portable on my desk.
“Hi Kyle. I called earlier. Where were you?”
“Mom, couldn’t find the phone, sorry,” I lie. “What did you want?”
“To make sure you were home, obviously. Did you check your blood sugar?”
“Yup,” I lie again, as I get out my kit.
“Good, don’t forget your snack. Have you reviewed Lord of the Flies? You need to get at least one book done on your own.”
“Doing that right now—you don’t have to rag at me about everything. Gotta go, Mom. See you soon.”
The moment I hang up, Perfect Paul talks at me again.
“Red: Do you want to go Rollerblading again Monday?”
I wince. I want to, but there’s just so little time. As I think about it, I slip the audiobook into the player. I really don’t have time for Liz. Especially since we have to sneak around parents. I have to get good grades. I have to do the mature thing. So I type: Music Man: It’s not a good idea. I’m swamped with my independent study.
Then I angle the headset so that the earphones are in the correct position and turn off my messenger.
I hear a rhythmic ringing and wonder where it’s coming from. When Shawna taps me on the shoulder, I jump.
“Phone for you. It’s Elizabeth.” She hands me the receiver.
“Kyle. Maybe I can help you with your homework?” Her words go up and down the scale, musical and gentle.
She can help me, that word. Just once, I want someone to need my help. I sigh.
“You’re not answering. You just want to get rid of me, right? I get it now.”
I can hear the hurt in her voice, a sharp trill in the middle of a line of music. So I explain about the three books I have to take in, somehow, over the next month.
“If that’s really the problem, I’ll read the book that you don’t have the unabridged disk for.” There’s a tiny hitch in her breath as she waits for my answer.
If I say no, it will all be over, hearing her angel voice, kissing her soft lips, holding her smooth hand or her warm body. Her mom’s already warned me off. She looks as young as Shawna, Ryan’s told me. Ryan’s just a jealous moron, I tell myself. And parents can’t run your life.
“That would be great,” I answer. “You could come home on the bus with me.”
“Great. I can read for at least a couple of hours, and my mother will never have to know.”
“All right, then. We have a plan. Bye.”
She whispers a goodbye back to me. I smile. I feel like my ear has been kissed.
Just because they’ve been through a plane crash and are left on their own, does that mean the main characters have to behave so cruelly to each other? It’s just like the Blindness book, where the inmates withhold food from one another. Why can’t they stick together in times of trouble?
Ha! I have my thesis statement. I just have to word it correctly. I’m annoyed as I fumble for words in my head. Finally I type out the sentence and listen to Perfect Paul read it back. “In both Lord of the Flies and Blindness, disaster and isolation produce a separate, hostile society.”
I still feel irritated. Oh, man—blood test, of course! I grab a tester needle from my bureau and prick the side of my right baby finger, the one least likely to see guitar strumming action. Then I squeeze it over the test strip I’ve inserted into the glucometer. Darn, I squeezed the bottle-cap cut and feel something trickle down my arm.
More blood? Shouldn’t have trouble testing today. Still it takes a full minute till a voice tells me my level is high. No wonder I feel like an overdrawn elastic band. I inject the extra units of insulin into my stomach. My hand still feels wet, and I suck at the cut. Definitely bleeding—I have to get a bandage. I stand, and Beauty jumps up, anxious too, whimpering softly.
Her toenails click on the floor behind me as I head to the bathroom. I know where Mom keeps the bandages, on the top left shelf of the medicine cabinet. I get one out and manage to tear it open with my teeth—too hard to find the little tear string on the top. I taste bandage before I manage to get it out of the package and onto my finger. Medicine-flavoured plastic.
Everything goes back into the right place—bandages back in the box, box in the cabinet, mirrored door gets closed. I’m proud of myself. And I have my essay theme, too. Beauty bumps me from the side as I head back to my room. That dog just always has to lead.
A door slams, and I hear Mom calling out. She walks down the hall and then suddenly screams. “Oh my God! Kyle. Where are you? What’s wrong? There’s blood everywhere!”
CHAPTER 15
Elizabeth and Magic
When I get home, Magic goes nuts in the crate. I let her out and as I kneel down for my canine love fest, I wonder where everyone else is. Magic slaps her paws down happily in front of me, inviting me to play, and she wags herself crazy. I tousle the fur on her head, and she frantically licks my fingers.
“Poor dog, you’ve been so bored.”
A noise from the basement makes Magic barks sharply. Burglars? I wonder.
“Shh, shh, Magic!” I open the door, and she bounds ahead of me down the stairs. Oh my gosh. What will we do if it is a break-in?
The first thing I see is the TV set turned on to some show with adults in children’s clothing and clown makeup. They’re skipping and waving their hands. Teal stands to the side, mouth open, eyes fixed on the screen, as his little hands hold onto the top of the set. Magic rushes over to him and accidentally knocks him down.
On the couch across from the set, Rolph lies curled up, snoring softly.
“What are you doing?” I yell close to his ear.
Teal uses the dog to pull himself back up.
“Huh, huh, what. Elizabeth? What time is it?” Rolph wakes and rubs his eyes.
“Teal can’t just wander around while you sleep!” I tell him.
“Did I drop off? Teal was sleeping with me, I swear. He looked tired, so I lay down with him on the couch…”
“He has a nap every afternoon at daycare! The least you could do is let the dog out of the crate. Magic could watch him better than you do.”
Magic’s licking Teal’s hands and face.
“Stop that dog. I don’t want her to slobber on Teal.”
I head over to the TV set, scoop Teal up, and stare at Rolph, wishing my sister had caught him, instead of me.
“Honestly, I just dozed off for a bit there…”
“Dozed off or passed out?”
He glares back at me. “Little Miss Perfect. I saw your boyfriend at the beer store. Wonder what your mother would say about underage drinking.”
I dig a fist into my hip.
“I don’t drink. Here, Pops,” I drop Teal on Rolph’s stomach, catching him off guard.
“Ooof,” he gasps, and I disappear upstairs before he can stick me with Teal again. I message Kyle; his answers give me the strangest feeling—that he wants to get rid of me. I can’t take it. I just have to call to hear him in person, to make sure I’m not getting confused signals.
He seems so stressed out by homework I still think he’s making up excuses. But I didn’t imagine his kisses, did I? We set up a reading date for Monday after school. Imagine, a reading date! I just have to consult with Alicia.
“I’m walking the dog,” I call out.
It’s a great excuse, in case I’m not back when Mom gets home. Grounded or not, I still need to take Magic out for tinkles. I leash her up, grab a jacket, and take off for Alicia’s house. Ten minutes later, I knock on her door, and she opens it.
“Come in, come in. It’s cold.” She hugs herself and grins at me as Magic and I step into her front entrance. What’s she so happy about?
I tell her all about my Rollerblading date, and then what just happened over messaging and the phone, asking for her interpretation of Kyle’s words.
“I don’t know, Liz. It sounds like he’s playing games with you.”
<
br /> “What? But when he holds me, I know he cares. And he wants me to read to him. What kind of game could that be?”
I want to smack Alicia for giving me the wrong interpretation— the one I didn’t want to hear.
She just raises an eyebrow. “You see? This is why we swore off boys. They always muck with your head. Now you’re mad at me.”
“No, I’m not,” I argue.
“Fine, have it your way.” She grins again.
“Guess what? We’re officially going out again.”
“Who’s we? You and Scott?” I ask.
“Of course, me and Scott. We were born to be together.”
I roll my eyes. It’s what I thought about Scott and me last year—something he encouraged me to think.
He told me we’d get married at thirty, even though at the time he was going out with Gwen.
“Now that’s someone who likes to play games,” I tell her. Instantly, I realize I’ve said the wrong thing.
“You’re just jealous!”
“No I’m not. I lo…ike Kyle, remember? Come on, walk with me. Magic’s been in the house all day.”
She folds her arms across her chest. “Can’t. I’m waiting for a call from Scott.”
“Oh, come on. That’s what voice mail is for. You can call him back later.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, maybe I need his help to do my homework. He still has his project on Shylock from last year. Remember we were supposed to work on our Shakespeare together?”
“I’m sorry. I forgot. We can get on it over the weekend.”
“Oh, sure. But you’re grounded because of Kyle, remember? Let’s face it. This guy is already getting in between us.”
“And Scott never does that, right?”
Alicia doesn’t answer, but we both know that Scott always causes the worst problems for everyone. And really, what kind of essay could he ever write? I feel sorry for Alicia.
“Well, okay. I’ll see you on Monday.” Magic and I leave again and continue our walk.
We end up, as usual, at Little Stone Bridge Park where I first met Kyle. I can almost see him sitting on that rock, dark glasses on, looking so cool—while I lay sprawled along the pavement. I hated him then—or was that just the flip side of love?
I unleash Magic and throw a stick for her, watching her golden ears trail behind her as she bounds after it. The joy on her face, the power in her stride, the satisfaction she gets from returning the stick lifts me, too. I can’t help but feel happy. I remember doing the same thing with Beauty.
Does Beauty ever have fun like that with Kyle? I hope so.
A wind suddenly blows up, stirring dead leaves and dirt into a kind of mini-tornado—September warning about a colder month to come. I throw the stick for Beauty again.
“Hey, can I try that?”
I turn around and blink. “Donald? Did you get a haircut?”
“Yup,” he answers.
But it’s more than that. He’s gelled his hair, and he’s wearing all beige, except for a green tee shirt that he’s layered over his beige top. Donald doesn’t just look like Kyle’s brother anymore. He looks more like a mini-clone of Kyle.
CHAPTER 16
Kyle and Beauty
“It’s nothing, Mom, honestly. I tripped over the dog and fell on something.” I couldn’t admit I’d been Rollerblading to Mom.
“You and Beauty aren’t adjusting that well at school.”
“Sure we are!”
“Did you remember to disinfect the wound at least?” Mom asked and, really, how could I admit that I hadn’t?
“Yeah, Mom, I did. The only thing I didn’t do right, obviously, was clean up.”
“Never mind—forget about it.”
But over the next couple of days, the cut continues to bite and ooze. Nothing ever heals that quickly for me. By Monday, my hand and my head ache. I cancel on Liz and fall asleep on the bed the moment I get home.
Mom wakes me up. “Kyle, are you all right?”
She touches my forehead. “You feel warm. What’s wrong?”
As she drops her hand, she accidentally brushes against mine making me wince. She has her answer.
“My God, Kyle, would you even notice if you had gangrene?”
She whips me off to the emergency clinic, and we wait a couple of hours in silence. I wish I’d brought one of my audiobooks, but I feel so worn out and limp that I’m not sure I could absorb any of the details. Slumping down on the vinyl chair, I hear the angry flip, flip of magazine pages. Sounds like she’s not finding a lot that interests her, either.
Finally it’s my turn, and of course she comes along, even though I’m almost eighteen. She talks to the doctor in front of me like I’m a child.
“Yes, he had his tetanus shot. I can’t leave him alone for two minutes. This is what happens.”
Her voice is exasperated. She can’t do enough to keep me safe and healthy. She ends her sentence with her voice breaking. She sounds like she’s close to tears.
“Diabetics have such poor circulation.” The doctor clucks as she holds my hand and turns it over. “Their immune systems aren’t great either.”
It’s like I’m some defective model of car. She hems and haws a moment, thinking out loud, that perhaps the hospital should keep me overnight and put me on an IV so that the antibiotics can kick in quicker.
“Please, no. Give me an extra-strength pill, an injection, anything. I don’t want to stay here.”
There have been too many hospital stays for me. To lie in the dark alone somewhere unfamiliar, where Beauty can’t lead me, and I can’t stumble by myself—even to the bathroom. To hear noises that don’t connect to me: gurneys squeaking down the hall, whispered discussions, random cries of pain, machines hissing as they breathe for someone. And the smell! Disinfectant and old blankets, soap and blood.
“Home can be the best medicine of all,” the doctor relents. She’s quiet, and I hear a tear of paper, the prescription.
My mother puts her arm around me, and we lean each against each other as we leave the hospital. She squeezes me, and I squeeze back. We’re both very disappointed in my life, and in my health.
I take a double dose the moment the prescription is filled, but that simple infected cut lays me up for the whole week. No Elizabeth. She doesn’t call, either, and anyway, I feel too sick to even pick up the receiver. It’s as if my life energy ebbs away with each throb of my finger. I’m sure she doesn’t care about me anymore, and then that thought’s gone too, sucked away on a wave of pain.
With no more reading, I fall even further behind in my least favourite class. And with the infection, I really can’t guess at insulin dosage. I have to test four times a day, and my whole right hand feels achy. I test my left fingers—no guitar playing, either.
Overwhelmed and depressed, I drag myself to school on the next Monday, even though I still feel tired and sore. Old Man Veen insists I write his surprise quiz, despite the fact I’ve been away. I can hear the taunt in his tone; he wants to prove I can’t keep up with the rest of the class. He wants me to fail.
I can’t give him the satisfaction. I know I would have aced the test had I not been away. When I listen to all my classroom notes on tape, I’m extremely focussed. If anything seems to have improved since I’ve gone blind, it’s that mental focus and, as a result, my memory. I could have blown him away. But I was sick and too depressed to give any attention to my English homework.
Still, there’s a way to show him.
With no teaching assistant available, I need to use the only computer in the lab with a screen-reading program. I’m alone with the test—there’s no one to supervise.
Will Veen come to check? If he sneaks in on me, I won’t see him, after all. I take a chance and log onto the internet looking up all the answers.
When Veen hands the quiz back next day, he makes a big deal about the eighty percent I got. He knows I’ve cheated; it’s all in his smug tone. “No one ever does that well on my tests. I believe Mr.
Nicholson is extraordinarily gifted.”
He pats my back, and I want to hit his arm away. But I did cheat, and I can’t argue with that tone or complain about his condescension.
“And I assume, with your illness, you’ve had plenty of time to prepare your outline and opening paragraph.”
“I have the statement, but not the first paragraph or the body outline.”
“Well, you’ll lose twenty percent of your mark for that.”
Firm but pleasant—again, I can’t argue with his tone.
Throughout the class, he calls on me like a sore he’s chosen to worry. My brain freezes, and even the answers I know, I can’t get out of my mouth fast enough to satisfy him. He flips over to someone else.
His revenge on the cheater.
“If you want to complain to the principal, I’ll go with you,” Maddie tells me after, as we step into the hall. She strokes my cheek with her hand. It’s her smile by touch, nothing more, and I appreciate it.
I grab and squeeze her hand.
“No, thanks. I have to try to work this out on my own.”
“Kyle, honestly? Don’t—just let it go. You’ve got to talk to someone about him, otherwise he’ll flunk you.”
I sigh, knowing she’s right. But I cheated, and I have no right to complain about anything. Twenty percent off my independent study—with that handicap, in fact, Old Man Veen may already have failed me.
CHAPTER 17
Elizabeth and Magic
Kyle’s away a whole week, and I don’t hear from him.
“More mind games,” Alicia says.
She also tells me whenever she spots Kyle walking with his ex, something I don’t really need to hear. Maddie is beautiful, the same age as Kyle is and slightly shorter. They make a great-looking couple, perfect really.
“Do you still want me to read for you?” I finally force myself to confront him on Wednesday.
“Liz, oh yeah. Where’ve you been? You know I can’t look for you.”
Beauty Returns Page 8
