Be Not Afraid (10 page)

I pushed the door open and went in, wondering how long it would take her to notice I was there. The eight pillows sprawled across her purple bedspread matched the plush rug, and the curtains on both windows were cinched with elaborate velvet ties. Opposite the bed, an entertainment center held a small flat-screen TV, a DVD player, and a stereo system with surround-sound speakers. On the wall next to the entertainment center was a handmade poster of a quote by Robert Plant, Led Zeppelin’s lead vocalist, which read:
“I’m just looking for an angel with a broken wing.”
My mind flitted back to the bird, but the truth was, there was no real reason why I found myself drawn to the quote every time I came over, except for the way it had been rendered, drawn in elegant calligraphic writing that Lucy had done herself. It was beautiful.

Lucy’s arms were still pummeling the air, a sure sign
that the song was nowhere near finished. I took off my glasses and settled them on top of my head. Besides home, Lucy’s house was the only other place I ever took off my sunglasses. I’d gotten used to her shapes and colors, as well as the occasional ones inside Mrs. Cooper. I could handle it.

I reached out and poked Lucy in the leg. Her eyes flew open and when she saw me, she gave a shriek and sat up. The tinny sound of music drifted out of the headphones as she snatched them off her head and tossed them aside. “Marin!” Her blue eyes were huge; the cavity in the back of her mouth glowed a faded rose color. “God, you scared me! How long have you been standing there?”

I laughed a little, which I didn’t mean to do, not really, but things were still kind of off inside. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I just got here. Your mom said I could come up.”

“Did you call?” She reached out and grabbed her phone, scrolling through the screen. “I’ve been listening to music for over an hour, I think. I didn’t hear my phone.”

“No, I didn’t call.”

“Oh.” She lowered her phone and patted a space on the bed. “Well, sit down. What’s up? How are you?” She looked at me carefully, as if seeing something for the first time. “You look kind of beat up. Are you all right?”

I sat on the edge of the bed, letting my hands hang down between my legs. “I
feel
kind of beat up.” I hadn’t planned on saying that either, but there it was. “Just tired, I guess.”

“You need some crack?” Without waiting for an answer,
Lucy leaned over the side of the bed and withdrew an American Eagle shoebox. We both peered inside as she lifted the lid off her stash. There was a treasure trove of sugar. Every kind you could think of, from gourmet chocolates individually wrapped in gold foil to packages of Jelly Bellies to full-size Kit Kat and Almond Joy bars. I selected two miniature Sweet Tarts and a strawberry Tootsie Roll.

“That’s it?” She was already tearing off one end of a full-size Snickers bar. “You’re not hungry?”

“I’m good.” I put a pink Sweet Tart on my tongue, letting the small disk dissolve into a puddle of sweetness. Without warning, I could feel the tears coming. They rushed up inside me, a volcano about to spew, and I pushed my fingers hard against my eyes. My whole body shuddered with the effort, and a squeaking sound came out of my mouth.

Lucy paused, mid-chew. She moved toward me, scuttling along the bed like a small crab. “Hey,” she said softly. “It’s okay, Marin. You can cry if you need to.”

I shook my head, furious at being seen in such a way.

Her hand began to move in little circles along my back. “Can you try to talk to me?”

I pushed my fingers deeper into my eye sockets. The truth was, a few times I had come close to talking to Lucy, even telling her about my eyes, but I’d always pulled back. After the incident with Cassie at her house, it had taken me months to even consider the suggestion of opening myself up again to a possible friend. The fact that Lucy was somewhat of an outsider like me had made me less
wary, but still. I wasn’t about to risk something this big. Not with anyone.

“I guess the whole thing in school today just freaked me out more than I thought,” I said. “It was just so … I don’t know. Crazy.”

She nodded, her face as somber as I’d ever seen it. “That’s what I was telling you in the nurse’s office. I don’t know how you didn’t totally lose it right then when Cassie just stopped in front of you like that. I was about to have a freaking heart attack, and I was like, a foot behind you.”

“They put her in a mental hospital.”

“Quiet Gardens?” Lucy looked frightened.

“Yeah. Apparently, she had another seizure at the hospital and carved up her cheek.”

Lucy gasped and pressed both of her palms against her face. “Oh my God.”

“They’re pretty sure it’s epilepsy, that she had a grand mal seizure or something at school and then another one at the hospital. I guess things can get pretty bad before they put you on the right kind of meds.”

“Who told you all this?” Lucy’s voice was a whisper.

“Oh.” I looked down, picking at the bedspread. “Father William stopped by to see how I was doing. You know he’s friends with Nan? They were talking. I was right there.”

Lucy nodded. She peeled back a little more of her Snickers wrapper but made no move to take a bite. “You know, everyone was talking about it on the way home from school. And you know how I told you that Cassie’s grandmother
was crazy? Well, I heard Bobby Mason telling someone on the bus that she was schizophrenic or something. For real. He said she used to walk around downtown in her bathrobe and slippers and yell things at strangers.” She tried to conceal a giggle behind one of her hands. “I shouldn’t laugh,” she said. “It’s awful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” I leaned back, exhausted suddenly, and let my hands flop over the top of my head. “Let’s talk about something else, okay? Anything else.”

“Okay.” Lucy sounded uncertain. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. How’s the Prom Bomb going?” Lucy had a list of potential dates she was going through, without any luck, to take her to the prom. So far, everyone she had asked had turned her down. Hence the name Prom Bomb.

“The same.” She sighed. “I was going to ask Randy Duncan today after Mass, but considering the circumstances, I didn’t think it would go over too well.”

“Randy Duncan?” I stared up at the ceiling, trying to place him. “Doesn’t he have that big birthmark over his eyebrow? And I’m pretty sure I’ve seen him picking his nose in class.” He also had four cavities and a strange red orb in the back of his knee.

Lucy sighed again. “I’m sure he wouldn’t do that at the prom.”

“Lucy.” I propped myself up on my elbows. “Come on. You can do better than that.”

“How?” She looked dismal. “Do you know how many guys I’ve already asked?”

“Three?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Four?”

“Six.” She held up three fingers, flashing them twice. “I mean, I know I started at the top of the list. And okay, some of them already had girlfriends. But still, that’s six rejections, Marin. Pretty soon I’ll have to resort to sophomores and sneak one in. Or maybe I’ll end up dragging you.”

“Only when hell freezes over.” I thought back to the lie I’d told her months ago about not wanting to go to the prom, that I hated dressing up even more than I hated to dance. Neither had been true. But there was no way I could go to prom. Maybe ever. The surge of shapes and colors all packed into such a small space, combined with a disco ball overhead spinning dime-sized fragments of light in every direction, would probably make me puke. “What’s wrong with going with a sophomore, anyway?” I asked. “It’s only a year age difference.”

“Maybe physically,” Lucy said. “Mentally, it’s a whole different story.”

I couldn’t argue with her there. And I was starting to lose interest in the subject. I got up off the bed and walked around the room. I felt restless, irritated.

“You coming back to school tomorrow?” Lucy asked.

“No.” I stopped in front of her dresser, gazed at a tiny statue of the Blessed Virgin on top. With her dark hair, long blue robes, and beautiful dark face, she looked like a wiser, older version of Lucy. “Nan thinks I should take a day or
two off. You know, just to chill.” I picked up the statue, held it out. “Are you guys Catholic?”

Lucy looked at me as if I were two years old. “Well,
yeah.
You’re just figuring that out? I mean, we do go to a Catholic school.”

“I’m not Catholic.”

“You’re not?”

I shook my head.

“Well, what are you?”

“I’m nothing.”

She shrugged. “Okay. Well, I’m Catholic. Nice to meet you, Nothing.”

I smiled, feeling foolish for having brought the topic up, especially since until this point, we had really never talked about anything more pressing than what movie we wanted to watch on TV or how hot Robert Plant was. I put the statue back on her dresser and turned around. “Well, I have to get home. I just wanted to let you know that I was going to be out of school for a few days. And that I really feel bad about freaking out on you like that in the nurse’s office.”

“You already apologized for that.” Lucy stood up. “It’s all good.”

“I’ll text you, okay?”

“All right.” She looked down at the floor. The red glob in her mouth shimmered. “I was thinking about asking Randy tomorrow. I know he’s kind of gross, but I asked around, and he’s not going with anyone, so I figured what the heck. He’ll probably laugh in my face, but I gotta try, you know?
I can’t let the Prom Bomb down without a fight. What do you think?”

There was something so hopeful in Lucy’s face that I couldn’t bear to do or say anything to quash it. “Do it,” I said.

“Yeah?” Lucy’s face lit up. “For real?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay.” She squeezed her hands together, rocked back a little on her toes. The yellow glob in her stomach swayed with her. “And, Marin? Be careful, okay?”

I looked at her sharply. “What do you mean?”

“Just”—Lucy shrugged—“I don’t know. It was a lot today. Just be careful. Take care of yourself.”

“I will.” It was at times like this when I felt my own version of hopefulness. Maybe Lucy would turn out to be one of the good ones after all. Maybe she’d stick it out. Stick around. The feeling was like a porch light left on, a beacon in the dark. I didn’t want it to go out.

“Night,” Lucy said.

“Night, Luce,” I said, just before closing the door. “See you soon.”

I looked away from the Johnny Depp poster on my ceiling. My eyes were heavy, and my body was exhausted, but my brain was going at full throttle, still working over all the details of the evening. Dominic. The hospital. Cassie’s black fingers, her eyes. The bird. Lucy. What if I’d told her? What if I’d just blurted it out right then, sitting on her bed, let her in on the crazy secret I walked around with every day? What would she say? What would she do? I reached up and rubbed my eyes again. The chances of getting any real sleep were looking slim to none.

A knock sounded on my door. “Come in,” I said. It was Nan. I patted the side of my bed. “Here, sit.”

Nan sat down a few inches away from me. The mattress sank beneath her weight, and the smell of lavender dish soap emanated from her hands. Her sleeves were still rolled
up to the elbows from doing the dishes, and she had taken off her red kerchief. The blue beads in her hands rolled up and down in their never-ending trip along her knuckles, and the pink dot glowed inside her chest.

“How are you, angel?”

“I’m okay.”

“It’s late. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Lucy and I got to talking. I guess I lost track of time.” I wondered when or how I would get my bike back. If Dominic didn’t return it within the next day or two, I’d have to ask him at school. Which was not something I wanted to do.

“You have a lot on your mind, Marin.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Some.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nothing to talk about, really.”

Nan ran a finger over the space between her nose and upper lip. “How are your eyes?”

“The same.”

“They don’t hurt?”

“No.”

“Anything blurry?”

“No, Nan.” I glanced at the spot in her chest again and tilted my head to look at her. “How’ve you been feeling?”

She sighed, smiled. “Tired.”

“Does anything hurt? I mean, like, besides your hands?”

“No.” Nan looked perplexed. “Why, should it?”

I touched the front of her shirt with a fingertip. “You have a little pink dot,” I said. “Right there.”

“Here?” Nan touched her fingers in the same spot, dropping them again as I nodded. “My heart, eh?”

I nodded, watching her carefully. “Maybe you should get it checked out.”

“I have a checkup coming just around the corner,” she said, tweaking my nose. “Dr. Feinstein always checks my heart first.”

She studied the pattern of my quilt for a moment, as if she might find what she wanted to say next somewhere in the stitching. “You know, I’ve been thinking about what Father William said when he stopped by earlier,” she said. “About you seeing Cassie’s epilepsy pain shape today? I don’t know why, but it didn’t occur to me that that might’ve happened. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you about it.”

I began to gnaw on the side of my thumb. “It’s okay.”

She hesitated. “And you … you’re sure you didn’t see anything, right?”

“Right. Everything happened so fast. It was hard to see anything, really.”

My God. How many lies would I have to tell before this was all over?

Nan squinted, as if trying to reconcile my answer with what she knew, and then reached out and smoothed her hand along my forehead. “I know how difficult all this still is, angel, but it’s such a blessing, what you have. Such a gift.”

“Why do you always call it a blessing?” I turned over hard, something flaring inside. Nan’s explanations always came back around to something religious, no matter what the situation. “It’s not a blessing at all. It’s horrible, walking around like this. I hate it. How could something that’s so annoying, so”—I struggled for the right word—“
invasive,
be something that God gave me?”

Nan looked thoughtful. “God gives many people annoying things to bear. Look at me. I have arthritis. And a little bit of a mustache.”