“It’s not that, it’s . . .” I hesitated, torn between wanting to close the physical space between us and needing to wait—to tell him everything first.
“If you ever want to talk, I can handle it,” he said.
The silence stretched between us like a rubber band.
“Want to sit in the office?” I stalled. As we made our way upstairs, I composed myself. By the time we were in the room with the door closed behind us, I was determined.
“I’m glad you could be honest with me about your dad,” I said. “There’s something I’ve wanted to tell you about, too. The secret I’ve been keeping about, um, something bad that happened. It was November . . . right after you moved here.”
The stress of the confession made my head spin. “It’s painful to explain. The man in that car at my house that day, when you were walking me home with Ty . . .” I lost my train of thought, tried to start over. “You see, there was this teacher. I want you to understand what happened, but . . .”
How to find the opening, the loose piece of yarn I could pull to unravel the knot of my past? I checked Jay’s expression. He waited, watching me intently.
“Would it make it any easier if I already knew your situation?” he asked.
“What? How is that possible?” My voice was louder than I intended. “Did Kayla—”
“No, not Kayla.” He sighed. “But I shouldn’t say.”
“You’re trying to trick me into telling!”
“Lil, you’re already telling me. It’s not a trick.”
The thought made my temples throb. “There isn’t any way you could know, unless . . . did Megs tell you what happened?”
“That’s not it.” He hesitated. “I don’t want to get my aunt in trouble. But as a school nurse, she hears things.”
I leaned against the desk, grateful for the solid wood beneath my hands. “What kinds of things?”
“Like when a teacher hurts a student.” He looked away, his expression pained.
“You’ve known all along.”
“No. She told me about it without revealing the student’s name. Mr. B stopped teaching suddenly, right around the time she told me the story, so I figured he was the man involved. And every guy at school knows his Corvette convertible. When you got so upset about his car in your driveway, I put the pieces together.”
“So you felt sorry for me?”
“No. I feel connected to you because I . . . I realized what it cost you to keep that secret. To be on the edge of telling, but to step back and bury it. The fear is there. Always. I feel that way about my father. You’re the first person here who I’ve told about him.”
Jay had been honest about his past with only me. He was right. There was a connection between us. It was safe for me to confide in him. My body shook too hard for my mind to focus.
To stop the trembling, I concentrated on my breathing. Breathe. Life. Death. So much death. If I died, I didn’t want Mr. B to be the last person who touched me. Who was Megs’s final kiss? She hadn’t been ready to stop living. Megs would have the guts to kiss Jay if she were me, in this moment.
I moved forward until we were inches apart. Images of Mr. B and Megs and death mixed in my brain, and I felt the wet on my face before I realized I was crying. I leaned into Jay, my hair brushing against his shoulder. He smelled like soap and his body felt solid, safe, against mine.
He put his arms around me, softly, as if he were holding a glass mannequin instead of a girl. His chest rose and fell. I nuzzled against him, feeling desire, and uncertainty. I hesitated, my emotions battling.
I lifted my face and kissed him.
“I’ve thought about this moment so many times,” he said. “But I wasn’t sure. . . . Is this what you want?”
I wanted it so much that my whole body ached, but the words wouldn’t come, so I pulled him closer. We kissed again and I melted into him, until there was only the taste of his mouth and the sound of his heart.
I let the gentle weight of his arms erase every embrace that had come before. There was no more fear. Only that very moment. Only Jay.
It was amazing. So amazing, in fact, that the room started to spin.
Wow. No one ever made the world move with a kiss before.
I blinked, trying to get my bearings. My vision blurred around the edges. Then everything went dark.
CHAPTER 29
This recent influenza strain has shown some resistance to popular neuraminidase inhibitors. In laymen’s terms, antivirals don’t always work.
—Blue Flu interview, major medical association
Sobs. I heard sobs, the kind where someone’s chest breaks open with each cry. A girl, distraught.
Then a male voice. “Shh. She’ll be all right. Let her rest.”
Jay. There was something I wanted to say to him. If only I could remember, if only the pounding in my head would go away so I could think.
Time passed.
Minutes, hours, days—I wasn’t sure. Cool water trickled down my temple but my arms wouldn’t budge. I was too weary to wipe the drops away.
“Am I doing it right?” the girl asked.
I recognized the voice now: Cam.
“You’re doing it fine,” Jay said.
“I wanna help, too,” I heard Ty say.
“Hold her hand. Tell her she’s going to make it.”
Jay’s voice cracked. Cracked into darkness.
They visited me between the stabbing agony—the razors in my stomach. Why were razors shredding my insides? I needed the hurting to stop, but no matter how I twisted and turned, the pain moved too, a permanent part of me. A distant voice moaned in misery. I realized it was my own.
The line between sleep and consciousness blurred, like a smoke ring fading in the air. Then someone leaned on top of me, making it hard to breathe.
Mr. B.
His face, blue with cyanosis, hovered close to mine. My arms flailed, my legs kicked, but I couldn’t move his weight off me. Then his skin dissolved until only his skull remained. I could peer into the holes where his eyes used to be. He grinned, skeleton teeth inches from my face. My screams stopped only when the coughing took over, wracking my body.
A woman spoke. “It’s the fever. I’ll stay with her.”
I tried to lift my head but couldn’t. The razors inside multiplied.
Someone gently fixed the pillows beneath me. “Rest, sweetie. Try to rest. The pain will pass soon.”
But it didn’t. The torture continued, on and on, and it wouldn’t stop until I died. Dad’s face floated through my mind, then Mom’s too. Was she dead, like Dad? I missed Dad so much. I wanted to see him, to have one more conversation. Would we be together again in death? Someplace filled with light. And Megs would be there, ready to welcome me.
Then Megs glimmered before me in a strapless silver dress. She teetered in high heels, laughing. “Maybe the stilettos are too much?” She wobbled by the edge of the bed. “It’s time to get ready for the Spring Formal. They’ve hired the most amazing DJ and the school is decorated with fresh flowers. Mr. Fryman says, ‘April showers bring May flowers.’”
“Really?” I tried to imagine our gym as a garden but it made my head ache.
“You’re not wearing black, are you? It’s so morbid. Like death.”
“Megs—”
She twirled, the silver sparkling as it flared at her knees. “Spin with me!”
I tried to move, but my dress constricted my center until it was excruciatingly tight. Megs glided away but I couldn’t catch her. I tried to call out to her but my voice stayed trapped in my throat. Then she was gone and the pain throbbed in time with my breathing. If I stopped breathing would the pain finally end?
Mrs. Hernandez’s voice drifted in from the other room. “There hasn’t been any improvement,” she said. “I don’t want to alarm you, but you should hurry.”
Improve. Alarm. Hurry. I understood the words individually, but couldn’t combine them to make sense. I turned them over and over
. Hurry. Alarm. It was like another language, like the tiny bits of space between my suffering.
Then her voice came closer. “Hold on, Lil.”
That I understood. But the only thing holding on was the internal agony. It had snaked into me with its poisonous fangs and refused to let go.
Somewhere in the house, Cam sang “Ring Around the Rosy.” Her voice, sweet and gentle, faded until I finished the rhyme on my own.
Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.
I slid into the weariness, my eyes closing against my will.
CHAPTER 30
Throughout this pandemic, there have been numerous reports of random acts of kindness. Even widespread disease can’t dampen the American spirit.
—Blue Flu interview, television newscaster
I woke up, alone. Someone had left a big plastic cup filled with liquid and a pink straw on my nightstand. I tried to reach it. Moving my arms was harder than I expected. I tried again, lifted the cup, brought the straw to my mouth. Victory.
The water soothed my ravaged throat. Best. Water. Ever.
Noises came from outside my room. A cabinet door opened. Pans clanked. Little feet climbed the stairs.
“Lil! You’re awake!” Cam said.
Then silky hair on my face, the smell of strawberry soap. More footsteps pounded. Jay, Ty, and Mrs. Hernandez soon surrounded my bed.
Ty peered at me. “Is she better now? She seems better.”
“I think she’s through the worst of it.” Mrs. Hernandez’s hand was cool on my forehead. “She doesn’t feel feverish.”
Jay’s expression was grim. “Are you sure?” he asked. “She’s still so pale.”
“I can hear you,” I said. “I’m right here.”
He broke into a big smile.
His aunt nudged the kids out the door. “Let’s heat some soup. Would you like some broth, Lil?”
I nodded.
“I get to use the can opener.” Cam skipped out of the room.
Jay sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. He obviously wanted to talk, but all I could think about was using the bathroom.
“Be right back.” I tried to stand, but my legs felt like cooked spaghetti. He held my elbow until I stopped swaying.
In the bathroom, I gasped at my reflection: greasy hair, raccoon eyes, and a gaunt face, as if I were going to a costume party dressed as a ghoul. Leaning against the sink for support, I brushed my teeth and wiped away the leftover mascara flakes. Putting my hair in a ponytail required too much energy so I left it tangled and hanging loose.
Jay tucked the sheet around me after I climbed back into bed. His hands on my waist felt familiar. Had our kiss been a hallucination or real? Tentatively, I put my hand on his cheek, and he brought it to his mouth, kissed my palm.
Definitely not a hallucination.
“You were holding me and then . . .”
“The flu,” he said. “You had us all worried.”
“How long have I been sick?”
He counted the days off on my fingers. “Five days. It’s Monday.”
“But . . . how can that be?”
“You’ve had a rough time. The flu made you much sicker than we were.”
I shook my head. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“What’s important is that you’re getting better.”
“I’m not sure I feel that much better.”
“Maybe some good news will help,” he said. “Your mom’s on her way home.”
“What?” I tried to sit up too fast and nearly toppled over. “She is? How do you know?”
“She called after she got a flight into St. Louis and rented a car. She’s driving to New Jersey. She should be here by dinnertime tomorrow.”
“Is she healthy?”
He repositioned the pillow behind my back. “Yes. My aunt spoke to her.”
Mrs. Hernandez bustled into the room and placed a tray on my lap. “This will do you good.”
I lacked coordination, but managed to get some broth into my mouth. Jay looked away politely while I wiped the misses from my face. Mrs. Hernandez busied herself by straightening the covers and opening the curtains. The bright sunlight made me squint.
“You talked to my mom?” I asked her between spoonfuls.
“Yes, for a long time. She can’t wait to see you.”
“Did you tell her about . . . about Dad?” I dreaded being the one to break the news.
“I told her, honey.”
Cam sauntered in. “Lil’s eating! She’s eating soup!” She wiggled her butt and stomped her feet. “This is my happy soup dance. Soon you’ll do the dance, too! I’ll teach it to you.”
“That would be fun.” I tried to smile but even my face felt weary.
After the soup, I desperately wanted to wash up. But no matter how many times I tried to stand, I couldn’t control my wobbly legs for long. A shower would be impossible without asking for help.
“You should take a bubble bath instead,” Cam suggested.
“That’s a good idea,” I said.
Once I managed to get into the tub, I scooted under the faucet and let the water run over my stringy hair. I stayed in the water until my fingertips were as wrinkled as Mrs. Templeton’s face.
It took forever to get black yoga pants and Jay’s blue “Chef” sweatshirt on, because I had to balance myself with one hand while maneuvering the clothes with another. The whole experience wore me out.
Jay came to check on me when I finished.
“Is it possible for me to be exhausted from getting dressed?” I asked, climbing back into bed.
“You’ll get stronger each day.”
“I hope so. Tell me what’s new with the world. Have they created a vaccine yet?”
“Sadly, no. But they lifted the Boil Water Advisory. And the county finally formed an official disaster relief team that’s working with the Red Cross. They’re offering supplies to people who need them and checking houses for survivors and those in need. I passed along the info to them about what we’ve done.”
“That’s good news,” I said, snuggling under the quilt.
“They were so impressed that I took a risk and mentioned the school break-in as the source of our supplies.”
“Really? Are we in trouble?”
“Since we used the food to help people, we’re in the clear with the police and the school. They repaired the door and explained the circumstances to Mr. Fryman. He said, ‘Desperate times call for desperate measures.’”
“You made that up.”
Jay put his hand on his heart. “I swear.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” I stifled a yawn.
“Get some rest,” he said.
“Will you stay with me a little longer? I had some really bad dreams while I was sick.”
He kissed me softly on the forehead. “Sure.”
With Jay by my side, I soon fell into a soothing sleep.
I woke up thinking about my phone. It was six in the morning and the rest of the house was quiet. Standing up slowly, I found it on my desk, then took it into bed.
There was no word from Mom, but Kayla had texted:
Kayla: Feeling good. How r u? Hope 2 c u soon.
I wrote her back, telling her about being sick but that I was getting better. If we could become friends again, maybe all kinds of things were possible.
After hobbling to the bathroom, I got dressed and ready for the day. Going downstairs would be nice, but my legs still couldn’t handle it. A few rounds of solitaire on my phone helped pass the time. Recuperating was incredibly dull. By the time Jay brought in breakfast, I practically pounced on him.
“You definitely seem better,” he said.
“My body feels weak, but my brain is bored beyond belief.”
“Would it help to have visitors?”
“Yes!” I tried to think of who might come over. Kayla? Elsa? Ethan?
“This woman, Mrs. Tempertown—”
“Templeton? She’s the crabbiest old lady in th
e world.”
“She’s been in touch with my aunt a few times. I guess Reggie mentioned it to her after I told him about your dad dying and you getting sick. She asked if she could visit you. Only if you’re up to it, of course.”
“Anything to break the monotony.”
After another nap, Jay, Ty, and Cam brought me a picnic lunch in bed and they all piled on and ate with me. Ty had taught Cam how to play his video game and although she was still twenty levels behind him, they were having fun.
“It would be better if you could watch us,” Ty said.
I got out of bed and teetered to the stairs.
“Do you need help?” Jay asked.
I shook my head. My legs wouldn’t make it to the family room. The only way was to slide down the stairs on my butt like when I was little. Peals of laughter followed me all the way down.
“Glad you can have fun at my expense,” I said, looking up at them and smiling.
“I want to do that, too!” Cam said, sliding along.
I sat on the couch, watching Ty and Cam play video games until Mrs. Templeton arrived.
“Hello, Lilianna. You look awful.”
She didn’t hug me. Somehow it was nice knowing some things had remained completely unchanged by the pandemic.
“Thanks for visiting.”
She sat across from me at the kitchen table with a large tote bag by her legs.
“How’s the Senior Center?” I asked.
“Fine,” she said. “Very few people have become ill. And I passed your supplies along. Half went to the Police Department and half to the Health Department.”
“Thanks for helping with that.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your father’s passing.”
“Thank you.” Tears welled, but I blinked them back.
She reached into her bag, took out a small gray box, and placed it on the table between us. “One of the things I’ve learned in my life is the importance of closure, especially in traumatic times like these. So I thought the wisest thing to do was to retrieve your father’s ashes for you.”
I gasped. “How did you—”
“I have some connections in Delaware,” she said. “Here are his personal belongings, too.” She put another box on the table. “And your father left some papers as well.”
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