"I'm fine, Mom. Really. Everything is fine."
Mom's fine white-blonde hair floated a little bit off her shoulders, probably from static electricity.
"Go back upstairs and put on your old clothes," Mom ordered. "You are not going back to school. Not for a long while. Maybe not ever."
Her calmness was freaking me out. Prickles of fear ran up my spine and made me hunch my shoulders. My ears were burning from an angry blush. I fought to stay cool and think.
There was no way out of this, though, except to disobey her directly. My heart jerked up and down in a miserable, loopy thrumming at the thought of confronting my mom again. I closed my eyes, and all the muscles in my body tensed.
On the spot, I made a decision. Before I could rethink it, I spoke.
"I'm going to call Helen then," I said, my words tumbling out in a rush. "She'll give me a ride to and from school."
"No. It's not safe for you with her. It's not safe for you at school."
"What's so dangerous for me at school?" I demanded. "What changed since Friday?"
"You've changed," she whispered.
I quickly looked down, fighting for slow, even breaths.
"I got a haircut and bought some new clothes," I said. "I'm the same girl you raised. You can still trust me."
"It's not you I don't trust," she exclaimed, jumping up and starting to pace. "It's everyone else! They have bad values. Kids your age, out there are drinking and doing drugs and smoking. They're probably having sex, too!"
For about half a second, the image of Haley wrapping his arms around my bare back flashed in front of my mind's eye, and I had to swallow back a sensation of being breathless and on fire.
"Mom, that's a huge generalization," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Not everyone is like that. Helen isn't like that."
"No, and that's why I allow you to be friends with her."
Wow. She didn't even see how awful her statement was. She allowed me to be friends with people. No wonder I was awkward, jittery and anxious around people—always waiting for her approval of them before I could talk to them.
"I'm eighteen now," I said. "I don't need permission anymore."
"While you live under my roof, you do!"
Oh, no. She said it. I think she realized she had said it, as well, because she turned white as a sheet.
"Mom, I don't want to move out until I graduate high school," I said soothingly. "I just want to have a little more freedom and to be myself a little more."
"How are you not yourself?" she demanded. "How have I held you back from being yourself? Haven't I encouraged you in everything you do?"
So long as it's something you approve of, I replied in my head, but I held my tongue because that kind of remark wouldn’t do any good. I could see this was just to keep going in circles.
Her lower lip trembled, and I could see her eyes were filling with tears. I turned and bolted out the front door. I couldn't afford to be there when she started to cry. I’d lose whatever courage I had left and cave.
Come to think of it, I kind of felt like crying myself. This was so frustrating! Why couldn't she just take it in stride, like other parents? I mean, I wasn't out there smoking or drinking or doing drugs...or having sex...
The vision of Haley and myself reappeared in my head and expanded. I watched us tangle together. I could almost hear him breathing, and for a second, the vision swallowed me whole.
I could hear the movement of fabric as the sheets rustled around us, and I caught his scent, which was something sharp and slightly sweet. I swore I could almost feel the touch of his hands against my skin.
It was so real, so sensory, that it totally took me by surprise and frightened me. I blinked rapidly to bring the world around me back into focus. I gulped down some air and reached for my cell phone.
***
Helen Jenkins proved, yet again, that she was the best friend ever by picking me up at the end of my block, no questions asked.
Of course, I knew that she was probably doing the Merciless Data Collection thing, trying to figure out exactly what question to ask that would make all my walls come tumbling down. But, she also probably guessed that I needed some quiet to collect myself and get ready to face the school day.
When we parked, Helen turned to me, a genuinely happy smile turning her face elfishly cute. How had I not seen the delicate lines of her face and uptilt of her nose before? Was her hair really that blonde, with streaks of sunlight, butter, and daffodils? I blinked a couple of times, trying to adjust my vision. Maybe I was having some kind of eye spasm as a result of my nightmare.
"Are you ready?" she asked eagerly.
"Ready for?" I answered dumbly.
"Everybody's jaws to drop open."
"Oh. That." I had fantasized about it so many times, finally having the kids at school see me—really see me—but now that I was face to face with it, I wasn't sure what to expect...and if I really wanted them to see me at all.
"Well, it's going to happen whether I like it or not," I admitted.
"You're gorgeous. Don't worry. Everybody's going to love your new look."
But, was I going to love everybody's attention? In reality, there was only one set of eyes I was both dreaming about and dreading.
The whole thing started pretty much the minute I got out of the car and had snowballed into something way too overwhelming for me by the time I had reached the front door of the school.
Through the whole parking lot, there were whistles and exclamations of "Oh my God!" Every set of eyes was on me, tickling me like a thousand needles, gauging just how far to press the flesh before causing pain.
My transformation had not really been about impressing the other kids or getting their attention. It was really about me. It was about my life, my sense of self, my own statement of who I am. I would have been just as happy if nobody had noticed me.
That small epiphany carried me from the parking lot to the senior hallway.
I stopped dead in my tracks, just a few feet from my locker, when I saw Haley. He was standing in the middle of the hallway, eerily still with his feet slightly apart, his whole body taut as if braced for something. Even though he was pale, he looked dark, as if he absorbed the light around him and returned it as shadows. I blinked hard, trying to get him to fit back in with the light around him, but nothing changed.
The necklace burned icy cold against my skin.
He lowered his head a fraction to meet my eyes, and I counted heartbeats as a slow, appreciative grin spread over his lips.
"Come on, Haley!" Jordan announced, barreling into him and clutching at his arm as she tugged him to turn around and walk away. "We'll be late!"
His grin widened a fraction, and he winked at me before allowing himself to be pulled away.
The hallway was an unbearable chaos because of the way everyone was paying attention to me from the way everything looked too bright and sharp. I hid my head in my locker like an ostrich, grinding my teeth and frantically wondering if I needed to see an eye doctor.
"Hot damn, Steph!" Zack boomed next to me.
Shifting my head out of my locker, I stood and glared at him, almost not surprised to see that he now looked twice as tan, blond, and gorgeous. I felt like squinting because he was almost too beautiful and bright.
"What?" I snarled, worry and nerves stealing away the last bit of my patience.
"Just wanted to say good morning," he announced, grinning and not seeming the least bit put off by my attempt at menace.
Suddenly, he leaned forward, all the smirk wiped off his face as he peered into my eyes. Startled, I tried to pull back from him, but he put his hands on my shoulders to keep me in place. He studied my eyes intently.
"Wow," he whispered, his voice full of awe. "You're eyes. They're different today."
I tried to wrench myself out of his grip, but he held my shoulders without any effort and continued to examine my eyes. I glared at him, even though I was panicking that someone els
e had noticed how tiny my pupils had become.
"So?"
A look of pure, heartfelt delight washed over his face, and he yanked me into a bone-crushing hug before letting me go and slapping me on the shoulder so hard I nearly fell head-first into my locker.
"So, that's very cool," he replied with a giant laugh. "Very, very cool."
"Why?" I demanded, looking back up at him.
"Haley's gonna love it," he chuckled, looking smug as he closed the repaired door to his locker. "Ha! I win."
"Win what?"
"Nevermind. So, how was your weekend?"
My lips pressed together in a grim, tight little line and I fought the urge to give him the finger. Instead, I rolled my eyes, shut my locker, and stormed off, Zack's laughter ringing in my ears.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
WHEN I GOT to European History, Haley was already sitting in the seat next to the one I had been in last week. My heart lurched and sputtered for a moment as I saw him.
His eyes flicked up from the blank page of his notebook to me. That same, slow, knowing smile crossed his face and made my toes curl as I slid into my seat.
"Stephanie," he said slowly, practically purring my name.
"I'm wearing the necklace," I said, the cuts and contours of his sharp, narrow face burning in my new vision.
His smile faded, and I felt the relentless gravitational pull of his black eyes. His expression grew fiercely intense. He leaned toward me. I held my breath, dizzy, confused, thrilled, and terrified of what would happen next.
"Haley!"
Jordan's voice was like nails on a chalkboard. I jerked back from Haley, and he reluctantly sat back, never looking away from me. She smiled at him, showing off her perfectly whitened teeth, obviously redone over the weekend.
Her eyes flicked from him to me, and her smile widened a fraction, making me think of a shark at an all-you-can-eat sushi bar.
"Wow," she exclaimed, narrowing her eyes at me. "You look really different! So, what did you do? Raid Avril Lavigne's closet?"
Her tinkling laugh was like glass breaking, but I found that I didn't really care. My skinny jeans, sneakers, and long-sleeve knit shirt weren't anything she could make fun of anymore. Nope, this was actually jealousy, and I found it was much easier to deal with than disdain. In a way, it was almost fun, now that I wasn’t afraid anymore. For once, I had a choice of how to respond to her, and I thoroughly enjoyed deliberately ignoring her.
Rob Furlong came into the classroom, and I was surprised and genuinely glad to see him back on his feet.
Concern replaced happiness as I watched him move slowly to his desk and wince as he eased himself into the seat. While he was still tall and gorgeous with his curly brown hair, he looked sallow, and there were dark circles under his eyes. The bandages on his shoulder bulked up one side of his shirt, and his arm hung useless in a sling.
I silently sent him my sympathy, and that was all I could do. Makeover or not, where boys were concerned, I was still Snub Club, and he was still a Jock. Besides, even though he was good-looking in a dreamy, earnest way, the sight of him didn't send a thousand volts of thrill through my veins like Haley did.
To my surprise, though, Rob looked around and caught sight of me. I nodded and gave him a timid but friendly smile as if to say welcome back. He looked stunned at the sight of me, and then he returned my smile with a big, sweet one of his own.
The second bell rang, and Ms. Collins came in. I snuck one last glance at Haley and was shocked at the hard, angry look on his face.
Ms. Collins began a lecture on feudalism. I couldn't concentrate. I didn't want to concentrate. I just wanted to sit there and mildly freak out about my morning in peace.
The fluorescent lights of the classroom hurt my eyes. I was tired of feeling like I was looking at everything through a new pair of glasses with a stronger prescription.
I stole another look at Haley. He didn't return my gaze and kept glaring down at his notebook. The only thing that seemed to indicate that he knew I was looking at him was that his left hand was clenched into a fist and relaxed as he stretched out his long white fingers to rest nervously on the surface of the desk.
The bell rang for the end of class, and I gathered up my stuff, my mind still caught up in a game of mental pinball between my eyes, my mom, Zack, Haley, and Rob. Absent-mindedly, almost casually, I ran straight into Haley.
He literally caught me just outside the classroom, steadying me with a hand that seemed to find and fit into the curve of my waist in a way that brought all my attention back to him.
I stepped back from him, only to have him take a step toward me, closing the distance between us.
He leaned in so that his lips were right by my ear.
"You have beautiful eyes, Stephanie Starr," he whispered, and I shivered.
Before I could reply, I was knocked back a step—or would have been if Haley's grasp of my waist hadn't become effortlessly strong and easily held me in place.
Kara rubbed her shoulder and smiled with everything except her eyes. "Sorry, Stephanie. Didn't mean to bump you."
I nodded once, refusing to smile back at her or accept her apology. She didn't mean it, and I wouldn't have meant it, either. A flutter of anger flip-flopped in my throat, and my breath came out of my mouth feeling oddly hot.
Instinct, based on a lifetime of experience, led me to glance down the hall to see Jordan glaring at me.
Yet, instead of cringing, I basked in the warmth of my own anger. It felt like hot honey flowing through my veins. My eyes burned as I narrowed them at her. Haley's low chuckle vibrated down his arm and into my own core, putting me back into reality like the whoosh of cold air from the fridge on a summer day.
"Easy there," he murmured, his thumb rubbing a spot on low my back.
The second bell rang, and I broke away from him, dashing down the hall to Poetry. I grabbed my usual seat, thankful Mr. Brown hadn't walked in yet. I was so thankful I hadn’t actually acted on my anger and gone up to Jordan. Newfound confidence or not, that would have been bad all around. I owed Haley one for that.
"Hey, Stephanie."
Startled, I looked to my left to see the owner of the oddly sweet, shy voice.
Rob Furlong was smiling nervously at me.
"Um, hey?" I replied, unsure of what to say to this boy. I'd never said more than two words to in the twelve years we'd been in school together.
"How's your shoulder?" I asked, scrambling for something to say.
"Painful," he admitted ruefully.
"I'm sorry you don't get to play this year."
"I just hope I get my full range of motion back. I'm not sure I'll be able to play college anymore."
"Oh, wow, I'm sorry." I groped for another question. "How did it happen?"
Rob shook his head, giving me a smile and a shrug. "It was the weirdest thing. I was just standing there, ready to catch the ball, watching it come at me. Suddenly, it's like it accelerated and hit me like a ton of bricks. I fell down, and I swear I thought I was going to fall down on my back, but I somehow twisted and managed to land with all of my weight on my shoulder. It's really weird, but I guess it's how it happened. I mean, you can't really remember things all that well when you're actually in the middle of getting hurt, and it all happens so fast."
I was speechless, trying to take in everything he had said, and my mind racing back to the second day of school with Zack at the lockers when Jennifer and Melissa had talked about the accident.
To my right, I heard a pen tapping against the desk in rhythmic agitation, and for once, Haley wasn't staring at me. He was giving a death stare to Rob.
Mr. Brown walked in then, and he continued his lecture on romance and death in 19th century poetry. This time, though, he took a different approach.
"The word 'romance' was commonly used to describe more than just love and passion between individuals," he said. "In the nineteenth century, romance also implied the thrill and excitement of new places and new exper
iences. British travelers brought back incredible descriptions of places like China and Egypt, exposing people to mysterious cultures and new ideas of just how long history really could be."
I chewed the tip of my pen, wondering absently about the nature of history. How far back did it go? How far into the future would it go? My mind relaxed and expanded for a moment, then ran screaming back from the dizzying concepts of infinity and eternity. Whoa. My heart was pounding like I'd just had a panic attack, and I decided to stick with my small, personal definitions of history, which included last year, last week, and yesterday.
"Today, we'll begin with a reading of 'Ozymandias' by Percy Bysshe Shelley," Mr. Brown continued. "Ozymandias is another name for Ramses the Great, one of the most powerful pharaohs in ancient Egypt. Miss Starr, will you read for us?"
I don't know about anyone else, but whenever I had to speak in public, I got the weirdest feeling that I was going to pee my pants. Too many eyes waiting for me to offer up some mistake they could make fun of.
I prayed for bladder control, cleared my throat and began.
I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
’My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
The voice of the long-dead ruler echoed in my mind, haunting me with images of crumbling monuments, endless sand dunes, and relentless winds. My voice trailed off, and I felt raw from the passion and despair of eternity.
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