Paper Girl

by Cindy R. Wilson

  “What?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.

  “I still want us.”

  It didn’t take me long to answer. “Me, too.”

  “So this is okay?” He reached up to brush my bangs out of my eyes.

  Was it okay? I thought I had two new people in my life, but they turned out to be the same one.

  “I’m glad it’s you,” I said, and it was the truth. Now they were both in my life, and it felt right. My mind ridiculously went to math problems. Zoe + (Jackson + BlackKNIGHT) = <3.

  “Good.” Jackson leaned in close enough I could feel his breath on my lips. “I’m glad.”

  I swallowed. “But…”

  He froze.

  I replayed Mae’s words in my mind. This isn’t living. You can’t stay in here all day.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Jackson said before I could tell him. “That this is your comfort zone. I get that. I promise. Let’s talk about it. We’re supposed to go to the museum tonight, right?”

  I reached into my pocket, feeling the worn ends of my tickets, waiting to be used. “I can’t.”

  “What?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t go to the museum with you.” I felt my resolve build brick by brick inside of me until I was sure. “I need to do this alone.”

  “But, it’s outside. It’s not that close.”

  “I know.” I drummed up a smile, forcing confidence in my words. “I can do it. I need to do it.”

  “Zoe…”

  I watched the struggle on his face, and it only made me feel more empowered. He was everything. I’d let him—Jackson and BlackKNIGHT—take up my whole world, and I couldn’t do that anymore.

  “At least let me walk you. I can wait outside, or—”

  “No. I’m going to go on my own.” I pulled out the tickets. “I’m going tonight.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Jackson opened his mouth again, looking like he was going to argue. I challenged him with my eyes. I was determined to do this—to finally prove I was taking steps to move on.

  And this time I wasn’t going to let Jackson or BlackKNIGHT have a say in it.

  57.

  JACKSON

  I almost typed a message to Zoe in Chess Challenge, but it felt so strange to talk to her that way now. She said it was okay that I was BlackKNIGHT, but I saw the terrified look in her eyes. Like everything she thought she knew was wrong.

  Instead of Chess Challenge, I pulled up our series of texts and sent her a quick note. I wish I could be there with you. I can still come if you want.

  I sent the message before I could change my mind, and sat at the table in my dad’s kitchen. No, our kitchen. It could be ours again, even though it felt so foreign.

  My stomach grumbled, and I almost ignored it. Like usual. I looked at the refrigerator, debating. Dad said to help myself. This wasn’t like Robert’s house where I had to be careful what I used. I could eat an entire bag of chips and not feel like I was wasting food or being irresponsible.

  Still no response from Zoe. Had she really gone all the way to the museum by herself? I got that she felt she needed to do this, but it was a huge step. Huge.

  I still felt like I should be there. Not just because I wanted to support her, but because I cared for Zoe. A lot. In fact, it was a kind of like I’d never felt with someone before.

  Love.

  Which is what made sitting here doing nothing even worse.

  I stood and walked to the refrigerator, surprised when I actually found fruit and yogurt inside. No trace of beer or any kind of alcohol. I opened the freezer to check there, too, but all I found was a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream. I snagged that and pulled a spoon from the same drawer we always used to keep them in. In fact, hardly anything had changed. No, I took that back. Hardly anything had changed from when my mom was still here. This looked like her house.

  The thought hit me so hard I put the ice cream back. It used to be her favorite. Pocketing my phone, I wandered through the kitchen, down the hallway, and to my dad’s room. I listened for his car for a minute, afraid he’d pull up and catch me in here.

  Silence.

  I flipped on the light switch and stared. It was like being thrown back in time, to when my mom used to make the bed every day and put her favorite quilt at the bottom. There weren’t clothes on the floor or piles of junk mail on the end tables.

  I should have been happier about that. It meant Dad had gotten his shit together, right? But that also meant he’d probably thrown away most of the other stuff around here he saw as junk. With a sigh, I turned for the door, but stopped when I spotted a book on his dresser. No, not a book. A photo album.

  Curious, I walked across the room and lifted the book. It wasn’t an album I’d seen before. In fact, the last time I’d seen an album in this house was when my dad got drunk one night and decided to “remodel” the house—which involved tearing up all the pictures of our family. Maybe it was because he couldn’t stand Mom being gone, or maybe he’d just been out of his mind. But that had been the last straw.

  All those pictures I thought were gone were in the book. Pictures of me as a baby, pictures of Mom and Dad when they got married, and more. Some of the photos were creased from where they’d been crumpled. Some had been taped several times to cover tears. I sat on Dad’s bed, my heart in my throat.

  Mom smiled back at me from those pictures. Full of life, full of hope. I felt like I should have done more for her, been there more or made things easier for her. Now I just felt hollow. I hadn’t been able to save her.

  And now it looked like I might be letting Zoe down, too.

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I set the album back on my dad’s dresser and quietly left the room. Still no message from Zoe.

  I rubbed my hand over my eyes and wandered through the house, searching for inspiration. Something to get me out of my funk. I stopped at the end of the bed in my room. The poster of the solar system was still there, a reminder of what my mom and I had shared, of what I’d wanted to do with my life. College. That’s what she wanted for me.

  I could do that much. Whether things worked out with my dad or not, I could do this. I had to. Everyone kept telling Zoe to live her life, but no one ever said that to me. And why? I was just as stuck as she was—scared of the what-ifs.

  Grabbing my backpack and computer, I decided to go to the library. Sure, it was right next door to the museum, and it would be convenient if Zoe texted me back. Maybe she’d want to meet up afterward. Then she could tell me all about the museum.

  Then I could tell her about my feelings for her.

  But either way, I wanted to study up on the University of Colorado. Zoe was getting her life on track; I had to do the same.

  58.

  BlackKNIGHT: I know it was a shock to find out who I really am. It surprised me when I found out you were Zoe, too. We can use our real names on here if you want. Or play chess in real life instead. In the meantime…I’ll make another move. Hope you have fun at the museum.

  59.

  ZOE

  I got to the art museum late because I couldn’t force myself to ride the bus. There were so many people. And what if I missed my stop? I’d freak.

  So I walked. In the cool, cloudy late afternoon, I walked all the way to the art museum by myself, counting every pair of shoes I passed.

  And I hadn’t had a panic attack yet.

  No, I wouldn’t have a panic attack. I could handle this—as long as I focused on shoes. Shoes were safe.

  I forced myself to make eye contact with the lady at the front as I passed my ticket over. When I stepped through the doors for the special exhibit, all I could do was stare. Paper spilled into the room, an elaborate chandelier of butterflies flowing down over me. The Eiffel Tower stood tall in a roped off area in the middle of the space. I smiled at the small renditions of people at the base of the tower.

  It was far better than what I’d pictured for
my paper wall at home. Jackson was missing this.

  But I wasn’t.

  I gave myself ample time at every display, focusing on the technique of each piece so I wouldn’t think about the people around me. There was folded paper, textured paper, thick paper, thin paper. It was a wonderland of paper, nothing like I’d ever imagined.

  I took pictures and made notes for my designs at home. By the time I’d made one circuit around the exhibit, I wanted to do it all over again. My heart beat fast, and it was awkward being by myself, but once I got going, it was easy to pretend it was only me alone in the museum. Me and the paper.

  A voice came over the loud speaker, announcing the museum would be closing in thirty minutes. I checked my watch. The museum stayed open until eight p.m. on Fridays, which meant I’d been here for nearly three hours.

  Keeping calm, I took one last look at the paper house I stood in front of before folding my pamphlet and stuffing it in my purse. I checked my phone, surprised to find two messages. One from Jackson and one from Mae.

  I read Jackson’s first. I wish I could be there with you. I can still come if you want.

  My heart clenched. Someone bumped me from behind. Flushing, I apologized and made my way to the exit. Outside, the sun was sinking lower, touching the tips of the mountains. I stepped to the side of the entrance and read the message again. I can still come if you want…

  I almost called him. But no, we both needed time. Besides, I was committed to this adventure. I was here at the museum, on my own, and I was doing it.

  Mae’s message was just as brief. Mom said you went to the museum. Are you okay?

  I didn’t answer her. I could do this myself. Maybe I’d take my time walking home—get a hot dog or snack from a vendor on the street. It’s something Mae would have done.

  I turned to the street and then froze when I saw Jackson. He had one strap of his backpack over his shoulder, and he gave me an almost sheepish grin.

  “Hey,” he said, lifting his chin.

  A flash of anger raced through me. What was he doing? He knew why I was here. He knew that I needed to do this by myself. Instead of answering, I stared straight ahead and passed him without a word.

  I halfway expected him to call out or to catch up with me, but he didn’t. And I was glad. How was I supposed to take these steps and move out of my comfort zone if Jackson didn’t give me the space to do it? If Mae thought she needed to check on me?

  With a huff, I crossed the street alongside a group of people also leaving the museum. I got swept up in the crowd, and part of me wanted to throw it in Jackson’s face. See? I was one of them. The people out in the world.

  When I got to the other side, I turned left automatically. That’s the way I came from, right? Of course it was. And it’s not like I couldn’t turn around if I went the wrong way.

  With long, sure strides, I kept walking until I started to doubt myself again. What if I’d gone the wrong way? I didn’t recognize some of these buildings…

  Panic crawled up my throat. Calm down. I could do this. I had to. If I could do this, that proved I could go to school, and that’s what I really wanted.

  But another few blocks went by, and I knew I was going the wrong way. I stopped, looking at the street signs. I should have stayed on 16th instead of straying off course. I needed to turn around.

  Now it felt like a long way back. My anger had taken me a lot farther than I’d expected.

  My chest tightened. It was getting dark. Really dark. And I was so far away.

  The bus. I could take the bus. Mae did it all the time. I crossed the street again and waited for the bus to stop. I stood at the back of the line and got on after everyone else.

  I sat in the very front, so it’d be easy to get off when I needed to. But after a few stops, I realized I barely knew where I was.

  My phone buzzed, and this time I pulled it out, grateful for the contact. It was another text from Mae, asking if I was okay.

  I texted her back, I’m on my way home, and almost asked what stop I was supposed to get off at. But then she’d know. She’d know I couldn’t do this on my own.

  Pressing a hand to my chest, I glanced up at the next stop. Was I supposed to get off here? Or at the last one?

  I stayed on for two more stops, afraid I’d still be too far away from home. But at the next one, I realized I’d gone too far. My chest squeezed painfully.

  No. Not here. I couldn’t have a panic attack on the bus.

  I hurried to get off, almost pushing a man aside to get to the sidewalk. There were streetlights, but I felt alone out here. Nothing was familiar and there was barely anyone walking by. At least not anyone who looked friendly.

  My breathing grew shallow, and I let a sob slip out. Clutching my phone to my chest, I found a bench and forced myself to sit down. I needed to close my eyes, to calm down, but I was too afraid to do it.

  This is why you stay at home, Zoe. This is why it’s safer not to go anywhere.

  I tried counting to make the breathing easier, but I was practically hyperventilating. Why had I ever decided to do this?

  “Mae,” I whispered. I should have asked her to come with me. Or Jackson.

  But I’d brushed them both off. I’d chosen this. And now I didn’t know what to do.

  A woman walked past, giving me a concerned look. I couldn’t smile back. I couldn’t even breathe.

  My fingers shook as I wrote a text to my mom. Please come get me.

  I gave her the streets I was on and waited for her answer, my hand clenched tight on my phone as if it were a lifeline. I stared at my shoes, afraid to look up. The world crashed in on me, and all I could do was sit there with my head down, trying to breathe in and out. Trying not to panic.

  And failing.

  …

  At home, I stumbled inside from the elevator, forgetting to take off my shoes as I headed for my room.

  “Zoe?” Mom followed me, worry straining her voice.

  “I’m going to lie down,” I mumbled, not waiting for her to answer.

  In my room, I curled up in my bed with my shoes still on, facing the wall. I barely remembered the ride back home. My chest was still tight, and there was still that horrible voice in my head telling me how badly I’d failed.

  If I couldn’t go to the museum, how was I supposed to go to graduation?

  I tried to ignore the knock at the door and Mae’s voice calling my name.

  She came in. “Zoe?”

  “I’m asleep,” I said, even though there was no way I was going to be able to sleep anytime soon.

  I heard her footsteps as they approached the bed. “I know you’re not.”

  Go away. That’s what I wanted to tell her. “Don’t you have a date or cheerleading practice or something?”

  She sighed and touched my leg over the covers. “I want to be here with you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  I shifted, considering turning over to face her. “Why?”

  “Because…” Her voice lowered. She sat on the bed, jostling me. Instead of irritating me, it made my throat ache. She used to do this all the time, sit on my bed while I tried to sleep. “Mom’s making you homemade hot chocolate, so I know you’re not okay.”

  Of course Mom was. She was probably making a chocolate cake, too.

  “You wanted me to grow up,” I whispered. “I did.”

  “Oh, Zoe.” She touched my back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. You don’t have to go out there ever again. What do you need? Paper? I can bring you paper—”

  “No, I’m fine. I don’t need anything. Good night.”

  She hesitated a long moment before standing. “I’m sorry,” she whispered before walking out of my room and closing the door.

  I squeezed my eyes shut tight. I was sorry, too. If I hadn’t gone off on my own, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

  I’d tried, and I’d failed. I should have stayed here in my paper room
where it was safe.

  60.

  JACKSON

  I sat with Robert and Kelly for lunch at school on Monday, feeling like things were finally getting back to normal. I’d spent the whole weekend at my dad’s house. No, my house. And nothing had gone wrong.

  Yet.

  No, nothing would go wrong. If Dad slipped, there wasn’t anything I could do. But I was trying to keep faith in him.

  Things with Dad were going well, but things with Zoe…

  As I bit into my piece of pizza, I remembered her face when she’d seen me outside of the library after her visit to the museum. I’d never seen her so frustrated. And I understood why. I was making it hard for her to take her steps.

  But that didn’t mean I didn’t want to be a part of her life.

  I had to fix this.

  “Things are cool, right?” Robert asked. “With your dad.”

  I nodded. It was such a relief not having to lie anymore. I still couldn’t believe Dad was saving money for me. He used to be unable to save money for himself. Now he was working double shifts, not just to make up for the debt he’d created, but to give me some kind of future. And even better, I had a home again.

  Zoe. I had to tell her.

  I pulled out my phone and checked Chess Challenge. She hadn’t made a move in our current match, and she hadn’t responded to my messages. I checked my texts and saw the same thing. She hadn’t answered.

  “If you’re checking in on Zoe, she’s probably not going to answer,” Robert said.

  “Why not?” She couldn’t be that mad at me, could she?

  “Mae said the museum thing didn’t go well.”

  I glanced around. “Where is Mae?”

  “She stayed home today. She said she wanted to be with Zoe.”

  My gut clenched. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. Just…Mae said she won’t leave her apartment.”

  Guilt washed over me. Something must have happened. Zoe had gone alone to the museum because of everything that had happened with us, and I hadn’t been there for her. And something had happened.