by P. J. Hoover
Shayne is there outside the classroom. Waiting for me. I almost drop my backpack I’m so shocked by the sound of his voice. The way he says nice sounds like it holds a thousand different meanings, all of which I like. But the best part is he’s saying it to me.
“Thanks.” I attempt to think of something else to say, but nothing comes to mind.
“I waited for you,” he says.
He waited for me. I record the words in my mind so I can play them over and over later. “I see that.”
His smile makes me want to just stand there staring at him, but then he gestures with his head down the hallway. “Can I walk you to class?”
“I have Study Hall,” I say before I can think about how irrelevant that is.
Shayne reaches out and takes my backpack off my shoulder. “Okay, can I walk you there?”
“Sure.” I work to keep my voice calm, like I’m not over-the-moon that I’m being walked to class by the most gorgeous guy in the world. We turn the corner, and at least seven other girls stare our way. I pretend I don’t notice though I can’t believe he’s actually picked me to walk with. I keep wanting to glance over at him to make sure he doesn’t disappear, but manage to control myself.
I wrack my brain and finally think of a conversation starter. “What’d you think of the lecture today?”
God, that’s so lame.
Shayne shifts the backpack so it’s on his other arm. This leaves his hand dangerously close to mine.
“Tedious,” he says.
“Tell me about it,” I say. “If I have to hear Mr. Kaiser discuss conspiracy theory for this entire month, I’m going to pull my hair out.”
Shayne stops walking, so of course I do, too. And he reaches up and takes a piece of my hair between his fingers. “Please don’t. It’s so beautiful.”
And I’m left speechless once again.
He lets go of my hair. “I hear you have plans on Friday.”
He’s heard about my plans? Reese must’ve told him. Maybe they’re friends. I nod and avert my eyes, hoping he doesn’t see what I’m really thinking. I want it to be him instead. I want him to be the one who’s asked me to sneak out.
He touches my tattoo, and the shock from his touch travels up my arm and through my body, sending chills to places I only think about once the lights are out.
“It’s Greek,” Shayne says.
“Chloe says it means surrender. We both got one.” My heart is pounding so hard, I’m sure he can hear it.
“Sacrifice,” he says.
I look down at his hand. “What?”
He traces a letter with his index finger. “It says sacrifice.”
“You know Greek?” Is that the best thing I can think of to say?
Shayne nods, and his black hair settles on his shoulders. “Sure. Doesn’t everyone?”
“It’s not really the most common language to learn.”
“Well, it should be.” He rubs his thumb across the tattoo, and I know he’s feeling the raised skin underneath.
I stop breathing and try to keep the light smile on my face though my knees are about to collapse.
“I like it.” He rubs the tattoo a final time and gives my arm a squeeze, and then he lets go. “Have fun on your date,” he says, and the happiness evaporates from his face.
“Thanks.” I’m not sure what other response I can possibly give. The electricity from his touch still pumps inside me, and I hope it will never go away.
“Be careful. Okay?” His brown eyes darken, and the look on his face from class returns like he wants to tear someone limb from limb. But then he blinks, and it fades.
Careful? “Do I need to be?” I say it half in jest and half not.
Shayne nods. “Yeah, Piper. You do.”
Anticipation and nerves blend together and flutter in my stomach. “Oh.”
He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something else, but then shuts it again.
“What?” I say.
He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
So I start walking again, but I’m not two steps forward when he puts his hand on my arm and stops me.
I turn and face him.
“Maybe we can get together sometime.” His eyes don’t leave mine as he speaks.
My heart’s going crazy inside my chest. I’m about to pass out. “That sounds nice.” I focus on each word, making sure they come out clearly.
His mouth turns up at the sides. “Maybe coffee.”
I nod and decide against using my mom as an excuse. I skipped school to get a tattoo. I can certainly find a way to sneak in a cup of coffee. “Coffee is great.”
I hope he’ll suggest right now, but he doesn’t. He only turns and starts walking again. And we walk the rest of the way to Study Hall in silence.
Shayne hands me my backpack at the door, and I sling it over my shoulder. I wonder how he’ll say goodbye. I wonder if he’ll name a time for us to get together.
He doesn’t. He makes it simple. “See ya,” he says. And in his simplicity I can’t help but feel I ruined my chances with him. Maybe it was up to me to suggest a time.
“Yeah, see ya,” I say, and I watch as he turns and walks away. I don’t move until he disappears from my sight.
Chapter 7
Bathroom
Before I head into the library, I duck into the bathroom. There’s no way I can handle Study Hall yet. My legs are about to collapse under me, and I’m sweating so much, a trickle moves down my cleavage. I drop my backpack and lean against the sink, scanning my FON to turn on the water. There are two temperatures. Warm and hot. I go with the warm and splash it on my face, closing my eyes, letting it wash over me. When it times out, I turn it on again, doing this until my heart slows down. I don’t care that water has gotten in my hair. It’s pulled back anyway and tied with the red ribbon.
“Do you know your fate?”
I freeze at the sound of Tanni’s voice, and my chest tightens. I look up, but there’s no one in the mirror. Only me, water dripping off my face, staring back. I don’t stop looking, and my calmed heart has started beating so hard I feel the pulsing in my neck. Her soulless eyes are on me, staring at me. I feel them even if I don’t see her.
“Do you know your fate?”
I turn, whipping around to see Tanni, empty eye sockets and all, staring back at me. She’s been there the whole time, behind me as I washed my face. Watching me with those vacant eyes.
“Why are you asking me that?”
Tanni shrugs, and bracelets on her arms jingle, the sound filling the emptiness of the bathroom. “It’s my job. It’s what I do.”
“Does this have something to do with your global warming protest?” I ask even though I know it doesn’t. Why would my fate have anything to do with the Global Heating Crisis?
She smiles and shows her teeth. They’re white—almost glowing. I can nearly see through them, but I try not to stare. But not being able to look at her eyes or her mouth, I’m running out of places to focus.
“Not today,” she says, licking her lips. And she takes a step closer to me.
I back against the sink. There’s nowhere left for me to go.
“Who are you?” I manage to say. My throat’s dry, and the water I splashed on my face is gone, replaced by a thin layer of sweat.
She takes another step toward me, and I think she’s going to grab me again. I pull my arms behind me and use them to prop myself up on the sink. I could jump up and kick her and run out. But my feet are rooted to the hard tile floor compelling me to stay.
“I’m your friend,” Tanni says, and she rests her hand on my shoulder. “I want you to always believe that.”
She’s close enough now I can stare into where her eyes should be, and I see mist swirling behind the half-closed eyelids. She opens her lips, and mist churns inside her mouth. She leans toward me and tilts her head, and for a second, I think she’s going to kiss me. But then she exhales, and the mist pours out, filling the space between us. Filling the bathroom.
I can’t help but breathe it in. It’s sweet, like cotton candy, and it enters my lungs, and I feel myself grow weak. I almost fall, but Tanni catches me and holds me by both shoulders. My knees wobble under me, and I can’t take my eyes off her face.
“Chloe will die.”
She says it as she breathes out the mist. It echoes around the room, though it’s only a whisper. Chloe will die. Chloe will die. Around me, it bounces off the walls, taunting me.
“No,” I say. Chloe is my best friend. Young. Healthy. Chloe is not going to die.
“Chloe will die.”
The echoes continue, like a chorus of dead souls taking turns with a riddle.
This must be some kind of joke.
“Chloe will not die.” I shout, even though it’s only me and Tanni in the bathroom. Me and Tanni and the chorus of voices around us.
“Chloe will die.”
Why won’t she stop saying it? “No!” I scream, and instantly, the voices stop, and the fog disappears. Tanni lets go of my shoulders, and I collapse to the floor, hitting my head on the sink as I fall. I’m all alone.
Chapter 8
Opportunity
I’m not sure how much time passes before some freshman finds me in the bathroom and takes me to the nurse’s office. The nurse bandages my head, and he sends me home on a school shuttle. I spend the whole time convincing myself that Tanni doesn’t exist. She’s just some far-fetched part of my mind playing out my worst fears. I tell myself Chloe won’t die.
When I get home, my mom rushes over and hugs me. I fall into her arms, and I can’t hold back my tears. I let them come, flowing out of my eyes with sobs so loud, the gash on my head pounds with each one. She holds me, never saying a word. Never asking a question. She locks the front door and leads me upstairs, takes my ponytail out, and helps me get into the chem-shower and change into my pajamas.
It’s only when I finish getting dressed, and she pours me a deep glass of red wine and we sit in the family room that either of us speaks. I take a sip, waiting for the familiar relaxation in my veins. My mom has been proclaiming the life-giving powers of wine for as long as I can remember. She claims it’s a gift from the earth herself and grows grapes downstairs just to be able to make it. My mom watches me, never taking her eyes off me.
“I’m so sorry.” I don’t even try to explain or make excuses. “I’m so sorry for everything.” I feel the tears threaten to start again. I’m not even sure what I’m sorry for. I just know that I am.
“Shhhh…” She comes around and sits next to me on the rattan sofa. I lean into her and let her put her arm around me.
“I’m sorry.” I say it again, this time managing to control the tears. It just feels so good to be here with her, knowing she still loves me.
She doesn’t say anything, and I realize she’s rubbing my arm, moving her fingers over my fresh tattoo. I tense up, but none of the plants in the room seem to be dying which I take as a good sign.
“It’s nice,” she finally says. “I like it.”
I wipe my face and turn toward her. “You do?”
She nods. “It makes you even more beautiful.”
I sniff, feeling relief course through me. I’ve done it. I’ve done something for myself and my mom isn’t mad. “Chloe got one just like it.”
“It says sacrifice,” my mom says. “Interesting choice.”
I nod, wondering if I’m the only person on the planet who doesn’t know Greek, but a sob catches in my throat when I remember Tanni from the bathroom. Chloe will die. She’d said it over and over.
“What?”
My mom’s eyes are fixed on me, but I don’t want to tell her about Tanni. She’ll think I’m too weak to handle the world without her. How could it have happened anyway? It’s not natural. It’s not possible. And I’m not losing my mind.
“Do you believe in fate?” I ask.
My mom’s face freezes, and her eyes look away from mine. “What kind of fate?”
I’m not really sure even though I asked the question. “Do you think people can know the future?” It’s the best I can come up with.
“Your future?”
I shake my head. “No. Anyone’s future. Do you think there are people who know what will happen?”
My mom hesitates before answering. “No. The future’s uncertain. People are too complex and can act in too many different ways.”
I let out the breath I’ve held since I asked the question. I don’t want to believe in fate either.
“I saw you on the tube yesterday,” I say.
“The council meeting.” My mom stiffens next to me. “They’re going to destroy the earth.”
“It’s the missiles, isn’t it?”
My mom stands and walks over to crack open a window. The heat filters through, but now there’s a cross breeze in the room. “It’s everything. Councilman Rendon is lying. He’s deceiving the city for his own personal gain.”
“I could tell,” I say. I don’t mention the green fungus I saw covering him, but I think that’s what the fungus was showing me—his selfish desires for power. “He avoided the question.”
“He’s suppressing the results,” my mom says. “His only concern is the election and to hell with the fate of the earth.”
“Why don’t you say something?” I can’t stand by and watch everything I love be ruined by lies.
My mom leans back against the counter and runs her hands through her hair, and in that moment she looks so vulnerable. “Don’t you think I have, Piper? I’ve brought my concerns to the mayor, but he won’t listen either. It’s like they can’t see beyond the boundaries of Austin. As long as they shove their city under those stupid domes, they could give a rat’s ass what else happens.”
I pat the sofa beside me, and my mom sits back down.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t get so upset.”
“Yeah, mom, you should. If there’s anything worth getting upset about it’s the fact that they’re killing the earth.” Not about tattoos, I think to myself, but I leave that unsaid. “So what are you going to do about it?”
My mom studies me. Her eyes scan over me from the gash in my hair to deep into my soul. And then she finally answers. “There’s nothing I can do, Piper. I think we just need to resign ourselves to our fate.”
It’s a peculiar answer considering she just told me she didn’t believe in fate. And something about the way she looks away makes me think she’s keeping something from me. Like maybe she has some sort of idea how to fix things that I’m not privy to.
I suddenly let out a yawn I don’t even know I’ve been keeping in and realize I can hardly keep my eyes open.
“You’re tired, Piper Rose.”
I nod and curl into her embrace. My eyelids are reminding me I didn’t sleep last night.
We sit in silence, and the wine does its job, relaxing me, calming me. Here, with my mom’s arms around me, I believe things are once again as they should be. And with her accepting my tattoo, I believe she will actually let me make more choices in my life.
“You’d never leave me, would you, Piper?”
Her words reach my ears clearly, but it takes a second for my brain to process them.
“What?”
She rubs my arm, and holds me closer. “You’re all I have, Piper. You’re everything to me.” Her hands stop rubbing and press into my shoulder. “I’d die without you.”
All at once, every muscle which the wine had previously relaxed tenses up. And I realize my mom will never let me make my own choices. “Why would you ask that, Mom?”
As if she’s caught herself, her hand starts rubbing again. “I just want you to know how much I love you, Piper.”
I try to settle back into her arms, but my muscles still feel tight. “I know you love me, Mom.”
“I do, Piper.”
I don’t respond. There’s nothing to say.
“And you’ll never leave me, will you, Piper?”
Her question makes
me want to run away and leave her right then. To open the door and never come back. “Of course not, Mom.”
“I’m glad, Piper.”
I’m about to drift off when my mom’s voice stirs me.
“There’s one more thing, Piper.”
“What?”
She gets up and walks over to one of the cabinets, and when I notice her hands shaking, I sit up. She opens the door and gets something and sets it on the coffee table in front of me. It’s my box. The one Melina gave me. My face freezes, and I stare at her. I’m wide awake now.
“Where did you get this?” She asks it slowly, not taking her eyes off me.
I hold her gaze. Sure, I’ve hidden the box, but I haven’t done anything wrong. “It was a present.” I look at the box, reach over for it, but she pulls it away.
“A present from whom?”
My first reaction is to lie. To tell her Chloe gave it to me. But I’m a terrible liar. “From one of our customers.”
She presses her lips together and looks down at the box, drawing her hands back as if she doesn’t want to touch it.
But I, on the other hand, really want to touch its black surface. To run my hands over the engraved red symbols on the top and sides. The hammer and the birds and the flames, which seem to sparkle under the fluorescent lights.
“Which customer?”
I shrug. “You know—that girl with all the corn rows.”
My mom looks back up at me. “Have I met her?”
I know the answer is no. Melina comes on Sundays and only when my mom’s out getting seeds.
“I guess not. But she’s really nice and always takes the time to talk.”
My mom scowls.
“What’s the big deal anyway? Why shouldn’t I get a present?”
My mom reaches down, but instead of keeping her hand away from the box, she rubs it, almost caresses it. “Did you open it?”
I nod, glad she’s going to accept it. “Yeah.”
“And…?”
“And what?” I reach for the box, and this time, she lets me take it, sliding it over toward me. It warms under my touch, and the etched birds seem to shimmer and come to life.
