Bone Deep (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

1. Set foot on a train and not feel like you’re going to throw up.
   
2. Lose the big V.
   
3. Be true to yourself—AKA remove tattoo.
   
4. Make a difference in someone’s life.
   
5. Fall in love.
   FALL IN LOVE!
   
6. Be fearless, even if only for a minute.
   
7. Tell someone you’re sorry and genuinely mean it.
   
8. Get your brother back.
   

Six months, Cambria Marie Lockwood. Get going.

I stare at the list, at Cambria’s words. Under her therapist’s suggestion,
Leesa told me, Cambria had begrudgingly agreed to make a list of things that would help her overcome the loss she’d suffered and start living her life again.

Leesa
also decided to help me with my plan—once she was done scoffing at the utter impossibility of it.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Over the next month I secure an apartment in downtown
Chanton, exactly one-point-two miles from the train station, and throw myself into getting my grades back up. Agudelo—after much convincing and a free blue-glazed, ceramic bowl from Wrenn’s Wheel—decided to let me turn in my missing assignments for half credit. Apparently the guy has a soft spot for hippy-made pottery. It’s not much, the credit he’s giving me, but so far it’s boosted my grade from a D minus to a C minus, which is almost good enough to count toward the state college I’ll be applying for next year.

“Check it out,” my dad says as he enters my apartment. He’s moving with purpose, like a sperm in search of an egg, which is all sorts of wrong to think considering this is my father. “I found one. It’s a little rusted and is missing the engine, but it’s perfect.” He slaps an Auto Trader magazine on the table in front of me. A ’67 Camaro, just like my last one. He smiles wide. “With my new job at the wood mill,
Wrenn’s Wheel taking off, and you making more with Alessi, we should be able to pull it off.”

Things with Dad, over the last few weeks, have been slowly getting back to normal. We still argue at times, but that’s because—according to
Wrenn—we’re so alike. There was a time when a thought like that would make my blood boil, but it doesn’t anymore. Being like him may not be such a bad thing after all.

Another two weeks pass without a word from Cambria. I think about her every morning, text her “sweet dreams” before bed each night, and wonder day after day if I’ll ever get more than “
...
” as a response. On the Thursday before my plan is set to fall into place, I settle onto my bed and text her the line I can’t seem to get out of my head.

Explore
the forsaken inside. Implore these confines, now, as they penetrate, recreate me.

It’s a line from Burn Me
Up Inside, some song called
Bruised Blood
that I’ve had on repeat since I downloaded it two days ago. I’m starting to understand Cambria’s fascination with this band, how it’s possible for music to get her through a really tough time. It’s sort of been doing the same for me.

I wait for Cambria’s “
…
” to fade from the screen then close my eyes and try not to think about what sort of reaction she’s going to have in less than twenty-four hours.

Chapter Twenty-Four

I’m standing next to a concession stand when I spot her walk in with
Leesa, their arms looped together so they don’t get separated in the crowd of concert goers.

Ditty elbows me. “There she is. In the boots.”

I nod, stepping behind a large, round column to not be seen, watching as Leesa leads Cambria past a Burn Me Up Inside poster and down the stair-cased walkway to the seats I purchased for the two of them. The section has the best view of center stage, right where Lewis will start his walk into the audience at the end.

Ditty goes to find our seats, but instead of going with him, I make my way down to the front of the amphitheater near the stage where I will have a better view of Cambria. Where I’ll be able to see her expression.

For a few minutes, Cambria and her roommate sit and chat as the theater fills up. I can only imagine Cambria is spouting on about some of the songs Lewis has written—the stories behind them and where she was the first time she heard them, and then the lights go down and I watch as she loses herself when Lewis enters the stage and fills the theater with his deep, entrancing voice. Like last time, he’s wearing only white against the other members of the band dressed in black; Lewis’s way of giving himself fully to the audience, not to monopolize all of the attention I learned when I was researching them last month. I’m also close enough to see the silver chain he wears around his neck—the one he’s worn since his mother died of cancer two years ago. Singing
Your Name Here
, the song he wrote as his last words for his dying mother, his finger graces the small angel charm dangling from the chain.

The audience stills, growing quiet and somber as the song comes to a close—every single person feeling the pain of Lewis’s words—then like a switch is flicked, the drums start into a fast
progression and Davey the guitarist steps forward, his fingers dancing along the strings with the melody of
Martyr Theory
.

Once all of the popular songs are played, and even a few of t
he not-so-well-known songs, Lewis announces that he’s going to play a new song. “This one was inspired by a letter written by one of you,” he says. “It’s called
Bone Deep
.”

Chills skitter down my arms
, the anticipation and excitement rushing from my fingers to my toes. This is it. My last-ditch effort to get Cambria to talk to me.

Everyone in the theater stands,
including Cambria and Leesa, whispers filling the beat of silence before the vibration of the cymbals accompanied by the slow strain of bass. Lewis sits cross-legged in the middle of the stage and closes his eyes, letting his long, black hair fall in front of his ghostly pale face.

I went there by day, but left in darkness

And found you on the way

Now it’s silver and silent

Your somber soul, I hold

Li
ght, like the flutter of wings,

F
eel your lifeless voice rushing into me, yearning to sing

Part your lips a bit more

I'll swallow your fear

The guitar swoops in, slow and melodic—sounding completely unlike anything they’ve ever played. And it’s at this very moment Cambria’s eyes stray from Lewis, skim the edge of the stage, and as if by magnetic force find mine.

She stands, frozen, as Lewis’s voice engulfs the room
.

May you feel this while you sleep

Push my thorns of love into you

May you feel this while you wake

Bear your wounds for all to see

Cambria’s face blanches, and I read her lips as they mumble to her roommate,
“Oh my god. It was Krister, wasn’t it? Who wrote the letter…”

Leesa
nods, her white-blond hair brushing her elbows, and though her mouth is blocked by the baseball cap of the dude in front of her, I know she’s explaining the list she gave me a copy of, the plan, and phone call she received the other day:
Plan is set. I’ll drop off the tickets when Cambria goes to class.
Once her mouth is done moving, Leesa grabs Cambria by the shoulders and spins her to face the exit of their row, her chin resting on her shoulder. “He’s in love with you. Go to him,” she mouths.

Cambria
shakes her head, an expression like she’s about to puke overcoming her face. “I can’t.”

I don’t know what
Leesa says to Cambria after that, but whatever it is, along with the gentle shove on the shoulder, Cambria starts to move my way. I make a mental note to thank her roommate for helping. And then my heart is suddenly louder than the beat of the drums behind me.

There's a light in you now

But the purveyor is cast down

I have never been before

So desperate in my whole life

The music swells
, and I start toward her, closing the distance between us twice as fast. Jesus, am I ready for this? To possibly see her for the very last time? To have her tell me she can never forgive me for lying to her? Just seeing her in front of me, skinny jeans and black-sequined top dizzies me with every stair I climb.

After what feels like a thousand steps, I’m st
anding face-to-face with Cambria. She opens her mouth to say…I don’t even know what, but I press my finger to her lips and say, “Shh. You’ll miss the best part.”

Still each time I always meant

Every word

Every one

Though in time they finally bent

No one will take them away, erase them

Every word

Every one

Lewis’s voice lingers on the last word for a moment before it fades out and is replaced with the cheers of the crowd. A new song. A new story.

Our
story.

Again she
opens her mouth, and again I silence her. “Don’t say anything,” I say lowly. “Just listen to what I have to say before you tell me to fuck off.”

Thankfully, she nods. At least she’s willing to hear me out. I trail my fingers slowly from her lips to her cheeks, trying not to get distracted by the w
armth of her skin or the glisten in her eyes as the audience around me settles into the next song. A few people have their attention on us, but in the darkened theater we’re just two standing bodies amongst the rest.

I cup
her cheeks, and the heat from them burns straight through to my soul. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed her. “I kept something important from you,” I say, “and you have every right to be pissed at me—to hate my guts. But I want you to understand why I didn’t tell you.” I slip the first piece of paper from my back pocket and hold it up for her to see. “This is
my
list.” Only a second, and her eyes skim top to bottom, landing on her mom’s name with a flinch. “The eight crash victims who I’ve been tracking down one by one.”

“Why?”

I tug a second paper from my pocket, this one smaller and scrawled with only a single line of words. “Because of this. And the boxful of others that were being sent to me.”

Knowingly, she nods. “My brother… I caught him writing
them months ago. Remember that night you snuck into my room? I didn’t realize they were to you…not until”—she clears her throat—“well, when we were at your house…”

I place b
oth papers in her hand, my fingers curling around hers. “I wasn’t looking for revenge with this list, from these letters.” I jiggle her hand. “I only wanted to find the person whose life was ruined because of my family. I wanted to tell her I was sorry. And…most importantly, I wanted to make it up to her.”

Her faces scrunches with confusion.
“
Her?
You thought I was sending you the letters?”

I nod
. “After the last concert, yeah.”

“And the letter
you thought was about suicide…? You thought I wanted to commit suicide?”

I join her
on the step, surrounding her feet with mine, and take her face with both of my hands. “At first spending time with you was about saving
you
. I wanted to take away your pain, remind you what living was supposed to feel like. But then I started to fall for you. And spending time with you became purely about me.” I lean closer, my forehead resting against hers, eyes focused and unwavering for one long second. Then my hands slide to her shoulders and I spin her to face the crowd where Lewis is just about to step onto their awaiting hands for his finale. My voice, grating and low, whispers in her ear, “I did something horrible to someone I love, but…a part of me thinks it’s really good I did.”

Hands and arms catch Lewis. He takes a few ste
ps, sure and steady, then whips his hair back. The rush of adrenaline displayed on his face seeps into the crowd. It slinks over each and every one of us, my cells bursting alive with the power that is to come with the masterfully written last four lines of his song. Slowly, Lewis raises the microphone to his mouth and fills the room with his bone-chilling voice. At the same time, Cambria faces me, a deep V between her brows.

“When I found out who you were, I was so convinced that us meeting at the train station wasn’t chance. That you purposely searched me out to get back at me or something.” She scrubs a
hand over her face just as the audience screams with the end of the song and demands more. “God, I made this all about me—losing my mom, and the way my brother was taking it—that I didn’t remember you were hurting, too.” Tears start to fill her eyes, glistening under the low amber lights. “All those things you told me about your dad… I’m such a horrible person. I’m so, so sorry.”

I hold up one finger, silencing her
. “Don’t apologize, Cambria. Whether or not you forgive me, I will never regret loving you. And I will never
for
get loving you. You have made a difference in my life. I am forever changed because of you.” I tug her bucket list from my other pocket along with the pen I snatched from Ditty’s desk, unfold it, and sketch a single black line through number four: Make a difference in someone’s life. She watches like a ghost as I then place the list in her hands. “All I want is for you to be happy—even if that means without me.”

A silence, heavy as a lead weight, descends between us as
people start to move about, exiting into the stairways now that the concert is over. Her hands tangle in front of her, shoulders hunching forward slightly. Maybe I have lost her for good. What I did—lying to her—was inexcusable, no matter my intentions.

Still unsmiling, she points to the stage. “How’d you get Lewis to do it?”

From my back pocket I pull one last piece of paper, a copy of the letter I wrote to Burn Me Up Inside over a month ago—one I knew she’d want to see—and hand it to her. She unfolds the paper slowly, her fingers trembling.

Burn Me Up Inside,

Have you ever met someone who comes into your life at an unexpected time, completely rocks your world, turns you inside out and upside down until all you feel is HER
down to your bones? Have you ever felt a connection so strong, only to go and fuck it up?

It’s an experience that can change you, make you grow into a better person and realize at the same time that you are at your best when you are with her.

I had this experience once, with a girl who’s most likely your hugest fan. She’s amazing to her core, resilient to even the biggest of jerks (aka me), and will probably never forgive me for keeping the secrets I did from her and devastating her the way I did. Even so, you guys are my last chance to get her back, or at least get her to hear my side of the story and understand that I did what I did because I couldn’t see her hurting anymore. That I did it because I was falling in love with her.

I don’t know what I’m asking for. I don’t even know if you’re going to read this considering you probably get hundreds of letters a day, but I’m desperate to get this girl back.

I watch as she reads the rest of the letter—where I beg the band to help me win her back, then give my name and number. It was a longshot, and to be honest, I didn’t actually think they’d call, but…

“Their manager called me last week, told me to bring you to the concert. I knew you wouldn’t come with me, so that’s why I got your roommate to help. I didn’t know how else to get you to listen to me.”

The lights in the stadium gradually brighten until they are glaring off the white paper and shining against Cambria’s wild hair. She glances up at me, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

“You’re not a jerk,” she says quietly, taking a step closer to me. Her sweet scent crashes into me, so strong that I reach for her shoulders to steady me.

“Out of all that—me pouring my heart out to some gothic dudes about the crazy connection I feel when I’m with you—and
that’s
what you focused on?” I smile to show I’m teasing, and she returns it hesitantly, letting out a small giggle with it.