by Cecelia Earl
"We'll look into it," he said. He looked me in the eyes and everything, but something about his tone didn't convince me I was being 100% taken seriously. While he ushered me out, I made a plan to call every hour to check in. They'll remember me and catch this guy just to get me off their backs. But his final word, his final explanation before I step outside the building, is, "I'm sorry it's taking so long, but it's like the guy vanished into thin air."
And I can’t shake the image of him vanishing in a plume of smoke.
Once I make my way back to the waiting room, dejected, I see Molly's black hair and bright orange jumpsuit. Only she could wear something so vibrant and look amazing in it. Her brown skin glows, her shoulders perfectly sculpted, accentuated by the halter-top. She cuts across the room, taking long strides. She holds me to her so tight; I'm not sure if it's for my benefit, or for her own. In case it's for her, I give her a squeeze, too, before pulling back to look at her face. Sure enough, tears stream from her eyes, leaving tracks through her peach blush.
"He's too little for this. I couldn't work. Left Brian in charge."
"I stopped in. Everything was running smoothly. He'll do fine. He's worked there for two years."
She waves her hand. "Part-time. And only in the bowling alley, but whatever." She reaches for me again.
Over her shoulder, I whisper, "Noah will be fine, too. The doctor said he can tell he's a fighter. His vitals are a lot stronger today, stronger than they expected."
She pulls back. "No surprise to you. You know your brother has the strength of an ox. Ever since your dad left, he's been the man of the house, no matter how little."
It's true. I've lost hope off and on the past couple of days, scared for my little brother. I shake my head. It's all so unfair.
"What? You disagree?"
"Not at all. I just have to keep shaking myself, reminding myself this is real, and to keep going." I take her hand, holding onto her positivity, hope it seeps into my bitter blood. "Let's sit. And wait."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her look at me. "Is that all you've been doing? Waiting?" She shakes her head. "Life is too hard for you, darlin'."
I look at her, at her warm brown eyes, her red lips that are always ready to smile. How can I tell her what I've really been doing? I only wish I'd been waiting all this time. I feel I've let Noah and Mom down with how much I've been away, taking care of myself. First, at church, then with Mitch, then at home, even having a cookie with Molly at her house. Then, having some bizarre out-of-body experience with someone who barely seems to really exist.
Truth: I've had a nervous breakdown.
I can't tell her that. She's got her own family, her own job to worry about. She can't know I'm losing it.
She rubs my back. "They'll come to. Your mom will be able to take over with your help, and your place will be back up and running in no time. By prom, you'll have forgotten this whole thing.
I shoot her a look.
"Okay, maybe not forgotten, but it'll be a heck of a lot easier to swallow." She kisses my cheek and leans her forehead against mine. "Promise."
I wrap my arm around her, grateful. "Thanks, Mol. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Same here, darlin'. We'll stick this out together."
By dusk, Noah's out of surgery and Molly and I are allowed in to see him. He's still asleep, from exhaustion and drugs. We're told he'll sleep until morning. Mom's still in her coma, too, but the swelling in her brain is going down. The doctor tells us he's hopeful they'll both be awake, ready for therapy, soon. I don't know what his definition of soon is, but I have a feeling it's way longer than mine.
I follow Molly in her car to her house, linger in a warm, tearless shower, and read the newspaper article again before falling asleep. I borrow running clothes and get out at five o'clock in the morning. It's cold and still dark, but my muscles are thrilled to be back in action. I run and run and run until I'm crying and sweating out fear and anger, sadness and bitterness.
I haven't heard from, or seen, Cole, and I don't even know what to ask him, or what I expect him to tell me. Can I even trust him? Part of me is looking over my shoulder for Nicholas, but I'm alone on the winding country roads. Molly's starting to stir when I return; I can hear the shower in her master bathroom going and coffee's already brewing in the kitchen. I shower again and find jeans and a long-sleeved, black cotton shirt in a pile of clothing Molly left for me on the chair in my room. By the time I make it to the kitchen, she and Nate are talking quietly over mugs of coffee.
"What'll it be this morning, love?"
I realize she means food, but I shrug. "Coffee smells good."
"Coming right up." She pours a mugful and hands it to me. It's a photo mug covered in pictures of the kids when they were toddlers. There's one of them in a red wagon, another black-and-white shot in a pile of leaves, and another color picture of them with finger paint smeared across their cheeks and gooped in their hair. We had a couple of mugs like this with pictures of Noah and me, but they're gone now. So many tangible memories lost.
"Scrambled eggs, darlin’?"
I nod and take a seat at the table, away from Nate, who is sitting at the counter. I don't want to interfere with their morning conversation, and I need time to think. The kids come in, groggy and quiet, mumbling in response to their mom's chipper questions about breakfast. Half an hour later, everyone is ready to start their day. Friday already. The last day of homecoming week, the day before the big dance.
"Come on, Julia."
I look up, startled, at the family heading out the door.
Molly's arm is outstretched. "You're coming with me to drop the kids off at school. Then we'll head over to the hospital. Together."
I hadn't been looking forward to another day alone, so I stand and put my empty mug in the sink. "Thanks for the eggs, Molly."
She pokes my bicep. "Well, I know you love you some protein."
The car ride is pop music and open windows, cool fall air swirling around. She stops in front of the middle school. Once it's just us, I lay my head back, resting my eyes until we get to the hospital. Yet we only drive for another minute before she's parked again. Opening my eyes, I jolt.
"What are we doing here?"
"At school, you mean?"
"That's exactly what I mean."
"You can't stay away forever. You don't plan on dropping out, do you?"
"I…" I shake my head. "Actually—"
"No, you don't. Out you go."
"To class?
"To the office." I open my door, but hesitate. "Shoo." She shoves my arm.
Grumbling, I follow her in through the doors, down the crowded hall, tracing the black lines between the linoleum with my eyes so I don't have to see the staring eyes of everyone we pass. "This is so not my plan for today. Just take me back to my family." I can't believe Molly is actually doing this to me.
Mrs. Lambert, the principal, is standing in the office. She turns when we enter. She's wearing a black suit, and heels that click on the floor as she steps forward to greet us. This is a first. I'm actually let in to see a leader of this school without the secretary making me wait.
"Mrs. Winters, Miss White. I'm so glad you came." She motions us forward and we walk into her office. We sit, and I look around at framed certificates, diplomas, pictures of kids, her tidy desk, and her computer screen lit as if she left it in the middle of typing. There's a stack of books and papers on one corner. She gestures to it. "Your make-up work, Julia. You can take it with you, complete it when you can."
I nod. "Thanks." We didn't need to come in and shut the door to receive my homework.
She turns her full attention to me. Molly takes my hand. "About your graduation plans…."
I sit up straighter. The room brightens. It's hard to swim back in my mind to my plans, my old dreams. I try to feel the old motivation. A spark ignites it. It's almost October. I'd have had three months to complete my credits. I so badly wanted to graduate a semester ea
rly, start that internship, start college, begin my life making real money for Mom and Noah. "What about my plans?"
"You've only missed a week so far, four days, really, but," she glances at Molly, "you have a long road ahead of you, things you'll need to take care of for your family. Here at Shady Creek High, we understand these kinds of family emergencies, and will work with you, support you in any way we can…."
She goes on, but I'm stuck on the part where she said they understand ‘these kinds of family emergencies.’ Just what kind is that? Is there a precedence set? Have other students had their home and business blown to bits—on purpose—and lost their only family to comas? Had no money, no father, no grandparents, nobody but themselves to count on? Have other students been kidnapped by their guardian angel, seen their own angel wings, lost and then found an entire day after fighting demons in an ethereal forest?
"We can allow you some independent study, but you'll need to be in attendance to graduate. How much time away will you need?"
I look at my hands, fingers picking at my nail beds, and look up. "I'd actually like to drop out. I need to be with my mom and brother helping them remember why they need to wake up." I haven't been with them every second of every day. Maybe that's why they're not.
"I realize this will impede your plans for an early graduation date, but..." She tilts her head. "Graduating in May with your class won't be the worst thing. Don't give up on yourself and your degree. It's only a few extra months." She rises. “You don't need to decide right now. Take it easy on yourself."
Molly stands too.
Traitor.
Molly says, looking at me, "We'll take some time to think. To talk."
Yeah, I have a few choice words to say to her. Can't wait for that talk.
-32-
Seething, I don't pay attention as I follow Molly's feet through the school to the gymnasium. The noise within sounds as if a basketball game is going on. I have to shake my head to consider the time and the day. Friday at eight o'clock in the morning. Nope. No game. Although it is the final day of homecoming week, so who knows? Although why we're heading here is beyond me, especially when Molly promised we'd head straight to the hospital after school. Lies. All lies. From her and Cole and Nicholas. Nobody to trust.
When we enter, the crowd erupts and I look around. Every pair of eyes is on us. What the...? Molly is beaming at me, reaching for the stack of books in my arms. Clicking heels from behind announce Mrs. Lambert’s entrance as well.
"Miss White." She leads me away from Molly, toward a microphone set up under the far basketball hoop. The stands are filled with students, teachers, and some parents. My heart starts to pound, unable to figure out what's happening, hating this attention, and being alone in the center of all these eyes. She moves me so I stand beside her while she quiets the voices with her hands. "Fellow Shadows of Shady Creek High"—even our Shadow mascot is floating around the perimeter of the court—"it is with much gratitude and honor that I stand before you today. This past week, a dear friend of ours suffered a terrible tragedy, but you rose to the occasion, making light shine through the darkness. I am proud to be one of you, to be your principal." She looks to the stands. "Mitch Fitzgerald?"
What does Mitch have to do with this? I'm about to find out as he rises from the lowest bleacher, a shy smile on his lips. Before joining us, he walks to the side of the bleachers. Another familiar face steps forward—Rach? And then Mr. Alex wheels himself forward, looking bright and otherworldly. Together, they lift a large piece of cardboard and move to stand beside me. My eyes can't focus on what they're holding. All I see is the wetness in their eyes, the excitement in their pink cheeks.
"Dear Julia, with the help and leadership of your friends, the social justice committee, and your classmates, our entire school community has come together to share their love with you. I've been told that you like to stand on your own, that you resist help, but keeping in mind that love has no dollar value, we hope you'll accept in full charity…" As she says these words, Mitch, Rach, and Mr. Alex turn the cardboard over, revealing a large check. "A check in the sum of fifty thousand, two hundred, thirty-three dollars, and fifty-eight cents."
My breath catches. I'm momentarily blinded by tears until I blink them away, one trickling down my cheek, an honest sign I'm deeply touched. I smile at them all, shaking my head in disbelief. How did they do all this in only four days? Before I'm able to move, I scan the bleachers. Moms and cheerleaders, track members, football players, flutists, biology teachers, everyone has their hands folded, at their mouths, or clutching their chests. So many people, and yet there is a stunned silence, a silence waiting to be broken. I realize they're waiting for me to break it.
"Thank y—" Mrs. Lambert shoves the microphone under my mouth. So I begin again, "Thank you all so much." I feel so undeserving. What have I done for them, for this school? Give a few hours as a tutor? Put a few flowers on the float? I'm barely here enough to be a part of the community, what with working as many hours as I can for Mom and Molly. I know I can't deny them this gift, this glorious gift, even though my pride is uncomfortable. I raise my chin. "If I can, I'll make it up to you all. Somehow, I'll return the favor, pay it forward." I nod at Mrs. Lambert, so she removes the microphone. The pain in my back is not only momentarily relieved; it's converted to a feeling of release and freedom.
I glance over my shoulder to be sure there aren't wings protruding from me.
I'm reassured. I take a deep breath, let some of my stress go.
My eyes land on the only unsmiling face in the crowd—Cole’s. His eyes stare dead into mine, his expression unreadable. Something about them reminds me of dark pits, and they're sucking me in, slowly. What's happening to him? Seconds later, the hold he has on me is broken as everyone stands to cheer and stomp on the bleachers. I lose him in the crowd. I rush to Mitch and Rach, wrap them both in my arms.
"I don't even deserve this." I look at the check resting on the floor, propped against their knees. "This is a lot of money."
Rach smacks me on my arm. "You goof. You totally deserve this. When's the last time you did something for yourself? You're the most selfless person we know, always worrying about your family." She motions between her and Mitch. He nods.
"Before you all leave, there's one more thing!" Mrs. Lambert is shouting into the microphone. When the crowd is no longer deafening, she beckons someone else forward. One of the trio of girly doom makes her way through the bleachers. Like Mitch did, she steps to the side of the bleachers to grab something before joining us at the microphone. I don't know whether to groan or run. I've been the center of attention long enough. I hope this has something to do with someone else. She's holding a long, green garment bag that she moves to unzip.
"Julia," she starts, craning her neck to reach the microphone with her voice, confirming she's here for me and nobody else, "we figured you might not have had time to shop," she giggles, and some join her, "so some of us went shopping for you." She slips a gown out of the bag. "And we bought you this dress for homecoming tomorrow night!"
Speechless doesn't begin to explain my reaction. The happiness and hope in her eyes, the heavy silence once again anticipating my next move, my last words to them about repaying them, paying their kindness forward... I blink. This means I have to go to that dance, doesn't it?
But my mom, my brother. How can I go to a dance when they're lying in a hospital, alone and broken? I look around at all the hopeful, waiting faces.
I reach for the dress. It's long, shimmering, red and gold, off-the-shoulder straps, fitted bodice. "It's beyond gorgeous," I say, into the microphone that Mrs. Lambert has kindly held over my shoulder. My words are honest—the only thing I can think to say—and well-received. Everyone cheers once again.
"I know! It'll look totally amazing on you," the girl—Kerry, Kari, or Cari—gushes, grabbing and hugging me to her like we're the dearest of friends. I vow to learn all of their names. Everyone's names.
"Wait! Wait!" A
nother girl from the trio rushes up. "Don't forget this!" White wings flash before my eyes and suddenly they're on my back, something else thrust on top of my head, tugging my hair and pinching my scalp. My heart stops as flashbacks from the golden forest, the wings and halos, the smoke and horns, rush through my mind.
"She's going to faint!" someone shouts.
Breathe. I breathe. The gym comes back into focus. I focus, zeroing in on Mitch's face. "What's going on?" I whisper.
The two girls shout in unison, hands clasped under their chins, "The dance! Its theme this year is Angels and Demons!"
Mrs. Lambert takes over to further explain, "Everyone will be in costume, and as our queen, you'll be the brightest angel of them all.”
"A themed costume party for homecoming?"
"Yes, isn't that fun? Your homecoming king thought of the idea."
I look again to where he sat in the bleachers, but his space is now empty.
-33-
Molly's fingers tap out a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel while I stare out the window. I must be giving off a hostile vibe; she's rarely nervous, but I can't bring myself to say anything. I'm so overwhelmed, and I can't even tell her about what's bothering me. What are the chances? Why angels and demons? The green garment bag, dress included, is spread across the back seat. The girls even threw in a pair of red heels—four-inch heels—not to mention the halo/tiara and wings. I drop my head to my hand.
"You going to make it?" Molly asks, soft yet with a tinge of sarcasm in her voice. I don't answer, so she adds, "Still mad, darlin'?"
Mad? How can I possibly be mad? What is there to be mad about? Someone tried to kill my family and me, destroyed our home and business. Okay, mad about that. Cole is lying to me. Yeah, incredibly upset about that. My friends and strangers raised more money than we've ever had in savings before.
