Because You'll Never Meet Me (35 page)

“Uncle Joe demanded to come, you know,” Liz told me. We were walking down the driveway to where she'd parked her car. I was relieved to leave the murmuring guests behind. “Said your mom's ‘No Trespassing' signs gave him enough deer pelts over the years to reupholster every vehicle in his lot, and he owed her.”

“He still talks about hunting?”

She rolled her eyes. “Half the reason he tries so hard in physical therapy is so that he can climb right back up into a deer blind again. I told you, Ollie. He's a crackpot.”

The trees on either side of us seemed shorter than I remembered. I could see more of the sky than I'd ever appreciated, above the driveway.

“So, look at you,” she said. “I've got a phone in my pocket and you aren't squealing like a girl.”

I had noticed the green glow of it through her jacket, over her heart. “I never squealed like a girl. I squealed like a girly boy, thank you.”

She shoved me gently. “Anyhow, girly—how long until you're ready to come to school? Everyone's still talking about the dance. It took them two days to sort out the generators. If I told them that four-day weekend was your doing, all the kids would start singing your praises.”

I lifted my chin. “I did my duty for school and country. But I don't think I'll be going back.”

“Hey! Never let your illness define you.” She elbowed me. “Give it time, Ollie.”

I swallowed. “Yeah. That's what people say. But I'm going to do more than that, I think.”

She was kicking absentmindedly at stones as she walked. “Oh, how so?”

“I'm going on a road trip with Auburn-Stache.”

She stopped short, so that for once she was behind me.

“Whoa, what's with that face?”

She was frowning: strands of hair in her eyes, lines around her mouth. “I just never considered that one day you might not be here.”

I choked on a laugh that wasn't really a laugh. “Funny. I considered that every day.”

And then she ran forward, threw her arms around my neck, and pressed herself against my heart, and I could feel that phone in her jacket pocket buzzing against my chest and I swear it made me gasp.

Is that what you feel like all the time, Moritz?

“I'm coming with you,” she said, breathless.

“Nope,” I said, and shrugged her off. I turned around before she could see me cringe. I wanted to play it cool as a cucumber. I wanted to laugh it off, but my feet were heavy. We were almost at the power line.

She followed behind me, trying to catch my eye, asking me to wait. I kept walking until she grabbed my jacket.

“Wait, damn it! Ollie … didn't you come to that dance to get me?”

“Yeah, kind of. But that wasn't all of it.”

“You went for your mom.”

I looked up at the trees. “A big part of it was just … standing up. Like I asked Moritz to do. Like I'm going to do, taking this little vacation from here.” I looked at the dead ends of the cable dangling overhead. “As much as I love you to pieces, I think that's sometimes a problem. No offense. But you were right. I think I have to go figure myself out first, or something, before I can become the sort of
person who asks what other people do on rainy days.” I cleared my throat. “Then I can come back all wise and handsome and dashing for you.”

I thought she would laugh, but she was obviously trying to wrap her mouth around something.

“So what—um …” I could feel that old habit of hers. That ingrained need to be socially aware. “Do you think you might be, um, romantically interested in him?”

“Are you asking me whether I'm gay for Moritz?”

“I would never say it like that.”

“No, you wouldn't.” I grinned. “And no, I don't think so. If you don't know who I'm in love with by now, then I must be an unusually subtle person.”

She smiled a bit. “You definitely aren't.”

“But … hmm … have you read about Shakespearean love?”

“What, you mean bromance?”

I blinked. “Whoa. That word. It's wondrous. Is that a thing?”

“An Internet thing.”

I laughed. “One day I want to surf it! There. I admitted it.”

“And so? Why can't I come with you?”

“Martin seems like a nice guy, the total bastard.”

She looked me dead in the eyes. “Spit it all the way out, Ollie.”

“You're awesome, Liz. Not because I say so, but because you
are
. What the hell are you running for? You're bigger than high school. The next time someone calls you trashy, you pull a Fieke and punch them in the face. And then you can guilt yourself about it and learn some life lessons and get a bit tougher for it.”

“What's a Fie—oh, never mind.”

She wrapped her arms around me once more, gently this time,
and I swear she smelled like autumn and all the things I don't want to forget about when I leave Hermitopia.

“I'm going to miss you, doofus.”

“Likewise, you know.”

She kissed me on the mouth, and it didn't suck this time. And she walked away. Not into the woods, not with blackberries in her pockets. But still and always Liz.

Auburn-Stache helped me pack up my things the next day, although I got really annoyed when he told me I couldn't bring my anatomical model or all my graphic novels or the stag tapestry. Hey, I'm not used to not having those things around. I'll feel downright naked out in the real world, Moritz. I put my foot down when he tried to unpack my fishbowl and glock.

He's got a phone he keeps wrapped in a rubber poncho; he says he'll text your dad whatever address we end up at next. We're riding south to visit a kid in Ohio. From what I've read about Ohio, it's a state that grows lots of astronauts. Either that means Ohio is really damn cool, or it's exactly the kind of state you can't wait to get as far away from as possible.

Either way, I'm pretty excited.

“How many of us are there, Auburn-Stache?” I asked while we loaded up his Impala. I'm so used to this womble now that I forget I'm wearing it.

“‘Us'? You mean …”

“FREAK LABORATORY SPAWN.”

“Hey now. This isn't a comic book, Specimen 17.”

“Ha. Ha.”

“As far as I know, there were thirty-seven, ah, partial successes
in the human enhancement program before the dissolution of the facility and the funding. Several are in Germany, others all around the world, in New Zealand and Taiwan and England. I visit the stateside ones on a regular rotation.”

“Can we help them all?”

“Help them do what?”

“I dunno.” I scratched the canvas at the back of my head. “Deal with emotional teenage nonsense. See if any of them are worthy of comics. Nothing major.”

Auburn-Stache's face crinkled up again and he stilled his fidgeting for once.

“If you can find a way to deal with emotional nonsense, I need to come along for my own sake.”

“And here I was hoping that emotional nonsense was something I could grow out of.”

“Sorry, kiddo. Nope.”

I looked back at the triangular cabin in the woods as we reversed out of the garage. I looked back at the doorway where she wasn't standing and I took a deep breath. I was glad that underneath the womble, I'd remembered to wear my coat.

I'm writing this in the car. We've only been on the road for an hour, but I've seen fast-food restaurants and semitrucks and so many splatters of color that my head might metaphorically explode, and I think Mom would be happy about that, so long as I don't have to actually implode to see it all. It's several hours' drive from the Upper Peninsula all the way down to Ohio, but I'm not even a little bored. I could write so much to you.

Should I write about the kid we're going to see first, the girl
who stashes her heart in a lunch box far away from her body so she doesn't have to feel things?

Or about the one I want to visit afterward—a boy who can't heal any of his injuries, so he's as careful about moving around as he might be if he were made of glass and paper?

But the kid I'm dying to meet is you. I want to tell you stories in person. And you know, maybe we're getting closer to that. Keep your chin up. Goggles off.

One day I'll see you in Kreiszig.

With all my heart,

Ollie Ollie UpandFree

I can't believe I get to write acknowledgments. I can't help but think that's a job for fancier people. Not that I don't have people to thank! They are legion.

First and foremost, the fanciest people of all: my editor, Mary Kate Castellani, and all the others at Bloomsbury. Tons of people worked behind the scenes to put this book together. Work I can hardly fathom! I am astounded and grateful.

My agent is a super-agent and I'll never forget that she found me first. Lana, m'dear, there aren't words enough to give you. I give you hugs instead.

My first readers kept it real. Kali Wallace, my BNF forever (and I'm hers, too, so back off!). Erin Thomas, the miraculous person this book is dedicated to. Karin Tidbeck, who helps me weather brainstorms. And Tamsyn Muir, who rooted for my boys before I did. I love you all to tiny bits.

There are all sorts of people who raised me to be a writer, from
fantastic teachers to fantastic coworkers. I also need to thank my family, extended family, friends, and fellow cosplayers for indulging my weirdness. My peers and instructors at Clarion 2010, for helping that weirdness blossom into something greater. (“Your title sucks!”) Here, too, goes a special nod to Ann and Jeff VanderMeer, who have been supportive and awesome to the point of excess.

Because I'm a dork and I can't write without headphones glued to my ears, I want to acknowledge the musicians who unwittingly helped me fight this fight. Primarily: Perfume Genius, Youth Lagoon, Los Campesinos!, and Owen Pallett. I also can't write without sustenance. I wrote more than half of draft zero at Picnic Café (
) in Taipei. Your tea and scones worked magic. The city as a whole worked its fair share.

And finally to my readers, whoever you may be. You're the very reason I write. I don't have to meet you to know that you're wonderful.

Copyright © 2015 by Leah Thomas

All rights reserved.
You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce, or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. For information address Bloomsbury USA, 1385 Broadway, New York, NY 10018.

First published in the United States of America in June 2015
by Bloomsbury Children's Books
This electronic edition published in June 2015
www.bloomsbury.com

Bloomsbury is a registered trademark of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to
Permissions, Bloomsbury Children's Books, 1385 Broadway, New York, New York 10018

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Thomas, Leah.
Because you'll never meet me / by Leah Thomas.
pages        cm
Summary: Ollie, who has seizures when near electricity, lives in a backwoods cabin with his mother and rarely sees other people, and Moritz, born with no eyes and a heart defect that requires a pacemaker, is bullied at his high school, but when a physician who knows both suggests they begin corresponding, they form a strong bond that may get them through dark times.
[1. Letters—Fiction. 2. Epilepsy—Fiction. 3. Blind—Fiction. 4. People with disabilities—Fiction. 5. Loneliness—Fiction. 6. Friendship—Fiction. 7. Bullies—Fiction. 8. Single-parent families—Fiction.]
I. Title. II. Title: Because you will never meet me.
PZ7.T366996Bec 2015     [Fic]—dc23     2014024670