Lost (6 page)

So much for calling attention to himself. He'd just committed grand theft auto after causing a shoot-out on the highway. But there was nothing he could do about that now. All he could do was hope that he hadn't just cost an innocent man his life.

Grungy Sweater

THE AIR OUTSIDE WAS WARM, PUNCTUATED
only by the occasional chilled breeze. Most people would have said that the promise of summer was in the air. Would have noticed the buds flowering on the trees that ran down the center of Park Avenue, dividing the north-moving traffic from the south. Most people would have noted that the messengers were wearing shorts now and that the sidewalk cafés were brimming with girls in sundresses.

All Gaia saw was the sidewalk. The concrete moving under her feet. The cracks in the cement. She had decided to walk to school. It was a seriously long walk, and she knew it would make her late, but she needed to walk. She normally wouldn't even have considered going to school at all. Would have wandered the streets all day, expending her angry energy, her pent-up frustration, her need to kick a little ass.

But now there was a reason to go to school. There was something there that might actually make her feel better. There was Ed. And it would probably be smarter to go talk to Ed than to find a fight in Union Square Park. Or Central Park. Or Bryant Park. Or Washington Square Park. Whatever park her feet might have otherwise brought her to.

Every time Gaia did look up, the world around her
seemed to mock her—seemed to know exactly what to do to drive her personally to the brink. The man emerging from McDonald's, holding the hand of his tiny daughter, who was looking up at him with unabashed love. The perky, grinning faces on the posters in the windows of the many, many Gaps she had to pass on her way downtown. The laughter of a group of kids her age, hovering on a corner, sucking on lollipops, out on some kind of happy-go-lucky field trip. She glared at the girls in their private-school skirts with their highlighted hair and their two-thousand-dollar smiles and hated them instantly.

That would never be her. She would never be that carefree.

By the time Gaia got to school, she felt like kicking down the door. Maybe this hadn't been the best idea after all. But she still wanted to see Ed. She just wanted to hold his hand. She needed to so much, she could practically taste it. And besides, if this whole school thing didn't work out, she could always bail. She could always find some thug to beat up if she needed to.

The halls were deserted, and Gaia drew herself up straight, feeling almost liberated as she walked to class. Like she was getting away with something by being out in the hall alone. And if anyone asked her what she was doing out without a pass, she would tell them to screw off. Her father was in a coma. At the very least that fact should earn her a get-out-of-detention-free card.

The second Gaia opened the door to enter her English classroom, the bell pealed out and chairs scraped back away from desks. Her teacher, Mr. Conroy, looked up in surprise when he saw her standing in the open doorway.

“Oops,” Gaia said flatly. “Too late.”

Then the students started filing toward her, and Gaia stepped back to let them pass and to wait for Tatiana.

“Gaia!” Tatiana said when she emerged from the classroom. With her perfectly mussed bun and her crisp white shirt over low-slung jeans, she scanned Gaia from head to toe. Apparently she didn't like what she saw. “You look awful,” she said, her eyes flicking back over Gaia's grungy sweater.

“My dad's in a coma,” Gaia said.

“What?” Tatiana blurted, paling. She looked confused, shocked, dismayed. “How?”

“Who knows?” Gaia said, starting down the hallway toward the stairwell and their next class. Locker doors slammed, a couple made out against the wall, some kid farted to impress his friends. Life was going on.

“It's not like the doctors even know,” Gaia added. “They never know anything.”

Tatiana's perfect brows knit, and she looked at some spot ahead of her on the floor as they walked. Like concentrating on that spot was going to clear things up for her.

“And my mother . . . ?”

“She's there. She's trying to get some answers,” Gaia said, shoving open the wooden door in front of her with the heel of her hand, making a satisfying bang.
Good freakin' luck.

“Did they let you see him?” Tatiana asked over the din in the stairwell, glancing over her shoulder as she ascended to the third floor. “How did he look?”

Gaia waited until they were in the hall again to answer.

“He looked awful,” she said, flicking a chunk of hair away from her face. “Maybe it runs in the family.”

Tatiana's eyes were full of sympathy, and Gaia had to look away. The last thing she wanted right now was to indulge in any mushy sentiment. Maintaining the emotionless wall around her was the only thing keeping her from breaking down. And breaking down was not an option.

“Anyway, they took him for a CAT scan, and they said the results would take a while,” Gaia continued, sidestepping a couple of guys who were chasing each other down the hall. “I just had to get out of there . . . you know?”

“Well, we'll call my mom's cell at lunch and see how he's doing, okay?” Tatiana said, pausing outside their history classroom. She fixed her big blue eyes on Gaia's face, and once again Gaia had to avert her gaze. As close as she and Tatiana had become while their
parents were gone, she still wasn't used to this. She wasn't used to having anyone around to reassure her. It made her feel pressure to say more. And really, what else was there to say? She felt angry, she felt confused, she felt guilty, she felt sad. She had no idea what was going on with her father. Was any of this really groundbreaking territory?

“We should go in,” Gaia said, arching her back to slip through the space between Tatiana and the open door. As she headed for her regular seat in the far back corner of the room, Gaia passed between Trish and Sarah, two FOHs, who were giggling and whispering as always. One was wearing a brown top and a turquoise skirt, and the other was wearing a turquoise top and a brown skirt. They both drew back their heads in an exaggerated fashion when Gaia walked by, as if her very presence offended them. Which it probably did. But after shooting the obligatory eye daggers at her back, they promptly returned to their conversation.

If communication of such little substance could actually be
called
conversation.

“Omigod! He's in your
music
class?” Trish exclaimed, her well-lined eyes wide. “Does he
sing
?”

“I don't know,” Sarah replied as she absently unwrapped a piece of gum and handed it to her friend. “But he played a little guitar. It was so hot.”

Gaia's top lip curled up in a sneer. Who the hell were they talking about?

“Well. All I know is, we needed some new blood around here,” Trish said, popping the gum into her mouth. “Our class is
devoid
of interesting prospects.”

Oh, so there was a new guy. That explained the FOHs' sudden transformation from Manhattan snobs to Valley girls. Probably another rich, preppy snob who would just suck all the oxygen out of the halls with his inflated ego. Gaia stared at Mrs. Backer as she wrote a list of significant dates from World War II on the board. Maybe the lecture, at least, would get her mind off things. Of all the females in the classroom, the elderly, graying, rolled-panty-hose teacher was probably the only one Gaia could relate to. At least she occasionally had something interesting to say.

“Ooh! There he is!” Trish whispered.

Gaia glanced at the door. The guy who walked in did not disappoint her preconceived notions. He was tall and suspiciously tan for this time of year (points deducted) and broad enough to nearly fill the doorway. He wore a gray New York Yankees jersey (Gaia's team, via Ed, of course—points added for that) over a white T-shirt and a pair of jeans—clearly brand-new (points deducted). His hair was dark and slightly lacquered (points deducted), but even from the other side of the room Gaia could tell that his eyes were light. Almost impossibly light (a point or two added).

He stepped into the room and looked around with
his chin lifted and an air of confidence about him as if he owned the place. On his first day.

Gaia hated him.

“Oh, hello,” Mrs. Backer said, noticing the visitor. She slapped her hands together to clear the chalk and brought one hand to her chest. “I'm Mrs. Backer. And you are?”

“Mr. Montone,” he said with a hint of sarcasm, handing her his transfer slip.

“Well, nice to meet you, Mr. Montone,” Mrs. Backer said, glancing over the tiny piece of pink paper and then handing it back. “Take any empty seat.”

His eyes fell on the open desk next to Gaia's, and she squeezed her own eyes shut briefly. Perfect. Now she was going to have to spend this whole godforsaken period sitting next to this guy, who would definitely prove to be wearing an entire bottle of Drakkar Noir.

Slowly and confidently he strode down the aisle, passing by Trish, who blushed crimson when his leg brushed her toe. When he reached his desk, the new guy paused and glanced at Gaia. His eyebrows raised, and an expression of disgust crossed his features. Not that Gaia was surprised. She was used to this exact sneer. (More points deducted for lack of originality.)

He slid into the seat slowly, pressing his forearms into the desk, which caused his arm muscles to flex slightly, a
calculated maneuver. (Major points deducted.) Gaia got a look at the back of his shirt and the number 2 embroidered onto it two. Derek Jeter's number. It figured he'd have that pretty boy's jersey. (Jeter
was
the best in the business, at least according to Ed, so she couldn't deduct points for that, much as she wanted to.)

Much to her chagrin, she had to admit she'd been wrong about the cologne. The new guy's cologne actually smelled quite good. Something from the CK family, perhaps.

Trish and Sarah were whispering like crazy now, casting very unsubtle looks toward the back of the room. Finally Sarah got up with her history book, straightened her skirt, and walked to the front of the room, then down Trish's aisle. When she was a couple of feet from the new guy's desk, she stopped, holding her book with both hands, looking like an eager eight-year-old about to give her first oral report.

“Um, Jake?” she said, shaking back her brown hair. “I'm Sarah? From your music class?”

“Yeah?” Jake said, leaning back in his seat and looking at Sarah's legs.

“I thought you might wanna share my book?” Sarah said hopefully. “You know, until you get your own?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Jake said.

Sarah grinned and slipped into the seat at Jake's other side, then slid the desk and chair closer to his so
that he could see her book. Gaia suddenly felt the need for a long, hot shower. Jake.
Ugh.
Even the name was bad.

Gym Class Bloodletting

ED WATCHED THE VOLLEYBALL AS IT
arced slowly back and forth over the net, hit by students who were not remotely interested in displaying any kind of athletic prowess. It popped up and over, up and over, the
bump-thwack, bump-thwack
creating a mesmerizing rhythm. He watched it because he needed something to focus on while he tried to figure out what to say. What was he supposed to say to his girlfriend about the fact that her long-lost father was lying comatose in a hospital?

Hey! Don't worry! He'll snap out of it!
Not likely.

He looked at Gaia. At her hard-yet-beautiful profile as she stared at the cinder-block wall across the gym from the bleachers. He was out of conversation starters—he'd already tried to get her to talk about what she was feeling, but she hadn't bitten. She wasn't one for opening up. While most of the girls in his class would have found a pity-me rant quite cathartic, it
just wasn't Gaia's style. There would be no heart-to-hearts. At least not yet. Maybe later, when everything had had time to sink in. And when she was ready to talk, he would be more than ready to listen.

But that still left the problem of what to do now. His heart was breaking for her, but he knew he couldn't say that. She'd probably hurl. Or look at him with that Gaia sneer. Or possibly even punch him for the crime of first-degree sappiness.

Ed was about ready to resort to knock-knock jokes when he noticed Gaia straightening to attention. Tatiana had just walked out of the locker room on the other side of the gym and was now sliding along the wall toward them, maneuvering around the volleyball game. She looked up at Gaia, her expression disturbed and wary. Ed felt his mouth go dry. Neither he nor Gaia spoke as Tatiana climbed the bleachers and sat down on the step in front of them, turning to her side with her feet up so they could talk.

“I just got off the phone with my mother,” she said, wrapping her arms around her knees.

“What is it?” Gaia asked, the tension already high in her voice.

“Nothing,” Tatiana replied. “Nothing's changed. But the doctor said that the longer that nothing changes . . . ”

She trailed off and Gaia's jaw clenched shut, the muscles in the side of her face working.

“She sounds very upset,” Tatiana continued, resting her chin on her knee and staring off into space. “It must be very serious.”

Ed swallowed hard when he caught the shift in Gaia's expression. Caught her eyes going dead. He took her hand.

“We know it's serious,” Gaia said. “Trust me.”

“It's just . . . my poor mother. She was so happy . . . ,” Tatiana continued.

Gaia and Ed turned to each other in disbelief. Did Tatiana really just say what Ed thought she had said?

“What are we going to do?” Tatiana asked, her wide eyes watery as she gazed up at Gaia.

At least she used the word
we
this time,
thought Ed.