Fade (6 page)

the opposite direction. Stops and turns to face her again.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Read this. Out loud, please.”

ı

It"s an eye chart.

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“Dude, I"m totally trying to eat, here.”

“Read. Please.”

She sighs and looks at the chart.

“E,”
she says. And smirks.

He"s not laughing.

She reads the next line.

And the one after that. Squinting. And guessing.

“Cover your right eye and do it again,” he says. She does it.

“Now cover your left.”

“Grrr,” she says. But does it.

By memory.

All she can make out with her right eye is the
E
. She doesn"t say anything. Just says the letters she remembers from before. And then he takes a second, different chart out.

“Do that eye again,” he says.

“What is the deal with you?” she almost yells. “Jeez, Cabel. I"m not

your little kid or something.”

“Can you read it or not?”

“N,”
she says.

“Is that as much as you can read?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He bites his lip. “Excuse me for a minute, will you?”

“Whatever,” she says. So she needs glasses—maybe. Big deal. Cabel

disappears into her bedroom, and she hears him pacing over the creak in

the floor and talking to himself.

Janie eats her sandwich and downs the glass of milk. Goes into the

kitchen and makes another. Grabs a carrot and peels it over the garbage

can. Pours another glass of milk.

Takes her feast to the living room again and sits down. Turns the TV

back on. She"s feeling much better. Her hands have stopped shaking.

She swallows the last drops of milk and feels it sloshing around in her

belly. She smiles, contented. Thinks she ought to be the poster girl for

the Got Milk? ads.

10:59 p.m.

Janie pulls herself out of her post-dinner stupor and wonders what Cabel"s doing in her room all this time. She gets up and heads down the

short hallway, pushes the door open, and gets sucked into darkness

immediately.

She staggers.

Drops to the floor.

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Cabel"s frantic, trying to lock a door. Each time he locks it, another lock

appears. As he secures each new one, the others spring open. He can"t

keep up.

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Janie reaches for the door, blindly.

Backs out of her room on her hands and knees, pulling the door shut

with her.

And the connection is broken.

She blinks, seeing stars, and gets back to her feet. Pulls a ratty old

blanket from the closet and settles on the couch, sighing. She can"t even

sleep in her own bed these days.

January 7, 2006, 6:54 a.m.

Janie is startled awake. She looks around as a cold blast of air washes

over the living room. She sits up and goes to the kitchen, looking out the

window. Fresh footprints in the snow lead down the drive, across the

street, and into the yard on the other side.

She checks her bedroom.

He"s gone.

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She shakes her head.
What a jerk
, she thinks. Then she finds his note.

J.,

Shit, I"m such a jerk. I"m sorry—you should have smacked me awake.

I"ve got some things to do today, but will you call me? Please?

Love,

Cabe

There"s something about a guy who admits he"s a jerk that makes him

forgivable.

Janie climbs into her bed. Her pillow smells like him. She smiles. Hugs

it.

Talks to herself.

“I would like to dream about Center Street and I would like to talk to

Miss Stubin again,” she says over and over as she drifts off to sleep.

7:20 a.m.

Janie rolls over and rouses herself. Looks at the clock. Sighs. She"s rusty

at it. Repeats her mantra. Pictures the scene in her head. 8:04 a.m.

She"s standing on Center Street. It"s dark, cool, and rainy again. Looks around.

No one is there.

Janie wanders up and down the street, looking for Miss Stubin, but the

street is vacant. Janie sits on the bench where she sat before. Waits.

Wonders.

Recalls the previous conversation.

“When you have questions about my notes, return here,” Miss Stubin

had said.

Janie slaps her hand to her forehead and the dream fades. ı

When Janie wakes, she vows to practice directing and controlling her

dreams every night. It will help. She knows it will. She also vows to keep reading Miss Stubin"s notes, so she can come up

with some questions.

10:36 a.m.

Janie munches on toast as she pulls out the box of files from Captain.

She begins where she left off, and reads the reports, fascinated. 4:14 p.m.

She finishes the second file. Still sitting on her bed in her pajamas.

Remains of snacks everywhere. The phone rings, and with a gasp she

remembers Cabel"s note from this morning. “Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Shit.”

He laughs. “Can I come over?”

“I"m totally still sitting here in my pajamas. Give me thirty minutes.”

“You got it.”

“Hey, Cabe?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you mad at me?”

He sighs. “I"m not mad at you. I promise. I just…I worry about you. Can

we talk about this when I come over?”

“Sure.”

“See you soon.”

4:59 p.m.

Janie hears a light knock and the door opening. She peeks her head

around the corner, and to her great surprise, it"s Carrie.

“Hi, it"s me, your fair-weather friend!” Carrie grins sheepishly.
Shit
, Janie thinks.

She grabs her coat and puts on a smile. “Hey, girl,” she says. “I was just

going out to shovel. Care to join me?”

“Uh…I guess.”

“What"s up?”

“Nothin". Just bored.”

“Where"s Stu?”

“Poker night.”

“Ahhh. Does he do that regularly?”

“Not really. Just whenever the guys call him.”

“Mmmm.” Janie grabs the shovel and starts clearing the steps first, then

the sidewalk. She keeps her face turned toward the direction she thinks

Cabel will come from. It"s growing dark, and she hopes he notices her.

“So, what are you doing tonight?”

“Me?” Janie laughs. “Homework, of course.”

“You want company?” Carrie"s looking wistful.

“Do you have homework to do?”

“Of course. Whether I do it or not is the real question.”

Janie sees him out of the corner of her eye. He"s stopped still in the side

yard of the neighbors across the street. She laughs with Carrie and says,

“Well, that"s enough of that.” She bangs the shovel and climbs the steps.

“Go on in,” she says.

Carrie steps inside, and Janie gives Cabel a fleeting glance over her

shoulder. He shrugs and flashes the okay sign. Janie follows Carrie in.

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Carrie stays until midnight, when she"s good and drunk on Janie"s mother"s liquor.

Janie thinks about going to Cabel"s after Carrie leaves, but decides she"ll

get a good night"s sleep here and see him in the morning. January 8, 2006, 10:06 a.m.

Janie calls Cabel. Gets his voice mail.

11:22 a.m.

Cabel returns Janie"s call. Leaves a message on the answering machine.

12:14 p.m.

Janie calls Cabel. Gets his voice mail.

2:42 p.m.

The phone rings.

“Hello?” Janie says.

“I miss you like hell,” he says, laughing.

“Where are you?”

“At U of M. I had a thing to go to.”

“Fuck.”

“I know.”

There is silence.

“When will you be home?”

“Late,” he says. “I"m sorry, sweets.”

“Okay,” she says with a sigh. “See you tomorrow, maybe.”

“Yeah. Okay,” he says softly.

BIRTHDAY, UNDERCOVER

January 9, 2006, 7:05 a.m.

Janie wakes up on her birthday feeling terribly sorry for herself. ı

She should know better.

This happens every year.

It seems worse this year, somehow.

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She greets her mother in the kitchen. Her mother gives her a halfgrunt, fixes her morning drink, and disappears into her bedroom. Just like any

ordinary day.

Janie fixes frozen waffles for breakfast. Sticks a god-damn candle in

them. Lights it. Blows it out.

Happy birthday to me
, she thinks.

Back when her grandma was alive, she at least got a present. ı

She gets to school late. Bashful gives her a tardy, and won"t reconsider.

Janie always hated Bashful.

Stupidest. Dwarf. Ever.

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Psychology is interesting.

Not.

Mr. Wang is the most incompetent psych teacher in the history of the

subject. So far, Janie knows more than he does. She"s pretty sure he"s

just teaching until he makes his big break in showbiz. Apparently he

likes to dance. Carrie told Janie that Melinda saw him in Lansing at a

club, and he was tearing it up.

Funny, that. Because he seems very, very shy. Janie makes a note, and

then spills her red POWERade over her notebook. It spatters on her shoe

and soaks in.

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And then, in chemistry, her beaker explodes.

Sends a shard of glass, like a throwing star, into her gut. Rips her shirt.

She excuses herself from class to stop the bleeding. The school nurse

tells her to be more careful. Janie rolls her eyes. Back in class, Mr. Durbin asks if she"ll stop by the room after school to

discuss what went wrong.

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Lunch is barfaritos.

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Dopey, Dippy, and Dumbass are all on their toes today. Somebody falls

asleep in each of those classes, even PE, because they"re doing classroom studies on health today. Janie finally resorts to throwing paper

clips at their heads to wake them up.

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By the time she gets to study hall, she feels like crying. Carrie doesn"t

remember her birthday, as usual. And then, Janie realizes with that keen,

womanly sense of dread that she has her period.

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She gets a hall pass and spends most of the hour in the bathroom, just

getting away from everybody. She doesn"t have a tampon or a quarter to

get one from the machine. So back to the school nurse for the second

time that day.

The nurse is not very sympathetic.

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Finally, with five minutes left of school, she heads back to the library.

Cabel gives her a questioning look. She shakes her head to say everything"s cool.

He glances around. Slides into the seat across from her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just having a shitty day.”

“Can I see you tonight?”

“I guess.”

“When can you come?”

She thinks. “I dunno. I"ve got some shit to take care of. Like five, maybe?”

“Feel like working out?”

Janie smiles. “Yeah.”

“I"ll wait for you.”

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The bell rings. Janie finishes up her English homework, gathers up her

backpack and coat, and heads over to Mr. Durbin"s room. She already

knows why her beaker exploded, and she doesn"t feel like telling him

what happened.

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She opens the door. Mr. Durbin"s feet are propped up on the desk. His

tie hangs loose around his neck, and the top button of his shirt is undone.

His hair is standing up a bit, like he"s run his fingers through it. He"s

grading papers on a clipboard in his lap. He looks up. “Hi, Janie. I"ll be

just a second here.” He scribbles something.

She stands waiting, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She

has cramps. And a headache.

Mr. Durbin scribbles a few more notes, then sets his pen down and looks

at Janie. “So. Rough day?”

She grins, despite herself. “How can you tell?”

“Just a hunch,” he says. He looks like he"s trying to decide what to say

next, and finally he says, “Why the cake and frosting?”

“I"m sorry?”

“Why did you put back the cake and frosting, out of all the other things

you had in your cart?”

“I didn"t have enough cash on me.”

“I understand that. Hate when that happens. But why didn"t you put back

the grapes or carrots or something?”

Janie narrows her eyes. “Why?”

“Is it your birthday? Don"t lie, because I checked your records.”

Janie shrugs and looks away. “Who needs a cake, anyway,” she says.

Her voice is thin, and she fights off the tears. He regards her thoughtfully. She can"t read his expression. And then he

changes the subject. “So. Tell me about your little explosion.”

She cringes.

Sighs.

Points at the chalkboard.

“I"m having some trouble reading the board,” she says. Mr. Durbin taps his chin. “Well, that"ll do it.” He smiles and slides his

chair back. “Have you been to the eye doctor yet?”

She hesitates. “Not yet.” She looks down.

“When"s your appointment?” he asks pointedly. He stands up, gathers a

beaker and the components for the formula, and sets them at her lab

table. Waves her over.

“I don"t have one yet.”

“Do you need some financial help, Janie?” His voice is kind.

“No…,” she says. “I have some money.” She blushes. She"s not a charity case.

Mr. Durbin looks down at the formula. “Sorry, Janie. I"m just trying to

help. You"re a terrific student. I want you to be able to see.”

She is silent.

“Shall we try this experiment again?” He pushes the beaker toward her.

Janie puts on her safety glasses, and lights the burner. Squints at the instructions and measures carefully.

“That"s one quarter, not one half,” he says, pointing.

“Thanks,” she mutters, concentrating.