Positively Beautiful (9 page)

He's looking at me now but the ball is still going up and down with a soft
thwack
,
thwack
,
thwack.
I stare at it for a minute and keep talking, barely aware of what I'm saying.

“She doesn't want me to help her, you know, to the
bathroom, or change her tube thingy that's draining all this yellow gunk from her chest. Then she starts crying, she's in so much pain. I can tell she wants to be strong for me, but she hurts so bad she can't help herself. Maybe she doesn't want me home during the day. Maybe it's so hard to be strong for me that I'm making it harder for her. Or maybe she
needs
me there so she can be strong. I don't know. Either way I know I have to be strong for her but I'm not sure how long I can be and I can't stand this
waiting.
”

I'm breathing hard and I can feel him looking at me.

“And I know I shouldn't be thinking about this right now, but I can't get it out of my head that I might have this gene mutation like she's got and soon it'll be my turn to be going through all this. I think of the
waiting
I'll have to do until I finally get cancer and I'm not sure I can take it. I don't even know if I have the mutation or not, but all this not-knowing is about to drive me insane. I want to scream and scream and scream.”

“Why don't you?” Mr. Jarad says. “Go somewhere where no one can hear you and scream to your heart's content.”

“What is this, primal therapy? I can't go somewhere and scream. People would think I'm crazy.
I
would think I'm crazy.”

He shrugs.
Thwack, thwack, thwack.

“I found a website where I can do a BRCA test online and no one would know about it. You're
supposed
to go talk to a genetic counselor and Mom said I could go if I want to, but I know they'll just tell me not to think about it and wait until
I'm older. That's what everybody has been saying. Do they really think I can
not
think about it? Really? Maybe some people can, but not me. It's
all
I can think about. And, really, I'm still not sure whether I even
want
to know, and it feels stupid and selfish for me to be thinking about all this when my mom can barely pee by herself and she needs me so much. I'm just so afraid …”

Mr. Jarad looks at me. “What are you afraid of?”

“Huh?” I glare at him, but he's not being sarcastic. “What do you think? I'm afraid my mom is going to die.” My breath hitches just saying it. “Okay, I'm not always the best daughter, I forget to pick up my stuff and sometimes I'm bitchy to her, but … I can't lose her. I can't lose her too.”

He's quiet while I concentrate on
not
crying. And then I do, and he hands me a tissue.

“Erin, when you're feeling like this,” he says, “you need to be careful with yourself. Teens in your position have a tendency to engage in risk-taking behavior, like drinking and driving, and drugs. Here's my tip for the day: go somewhere and scream instead.”

I ditch school after my session with Mr. Jarad. I don't really mean to. I tell Ms. Brown, the front office secretary, I forgot my trig homework in my car and she looks at me all pity-eyed.

“Oh dear,” she says, her words fluttery. Ms. Brown is not that old, but everything about her shakes and quivers, from her
flyaway hair to her trembling hands and voice. “I'm
so
sorry about your mother. We've let your teachers know, and please feel free to come talk to Mr. Jarad whenever you need to.”

One of Faith's friends, a blond clone in super-skinny jeans, has come into the office, and she leans on the counter, unabashedly listening.

“I can't imagine how you must feel,” Ms. Brown goes on, her voice sounding as if it is being fed through a high-powered fan. “If it were my mother—”

“Thank you, Ms. Brown!” I say loudly, interrupting her. “I'm just going to go get my trig homework, okay?”
Shutupshutupshutup.

“Of course, dear,” she says and turns to the clone, who is eyeing me thoughtfully.

I go out to the parking lot and sit in my car for a while.

Then I drive away.

I don't know where I'm going. I just drive. I end up at Stone Mountain Lake at this cool spot Mom used to take me and Trina when we were kids, right by a decrepit old rope swing. I stare at the lake, glimmering blue like the sapphire ring I'm still wearing. After a while I get on the swing and go back and forth, back and forth. I kind of want to jump in the water but I have all my clothes on. I swing higher and higher thinking I might fall in by accident, but I never do.

I stay at the lake for a while. I try to scream a little bit but it comes out a weird squawk, like a duck fart, so I close my mouth and just scream in my head some more.

I have to go back to school to get my books, and it's strange walking the halls without the yelling, jostling mass of people. There's still a few kids hanging out, waiting for various after-school clubs to start, and I nod at a couple people I know as I hurry to my locker. As I grab my books, I see Michael coming down the hall out of the corner of my eye. Without thinking, I slam the locker shut and rush the other way. It's been four days since I broke down at the abandoned prison, and I've been avoiding Michael. I feel bad I ruined everybody's night when they had to take me home early.

I can hear his steps behind me, but he doesn't call out. It will be hard to avoid him in the parking lot, and I'm starting to feel shaky and weepy. I don't want him to see me like this.

I see the double doors to the auditorium and I slip through them, wincing as they clang shut behind me. The auditorium is dark except for a few dim lights spotlighting chairs and tables on the stage. I hurry toward them, my heart pounding.

Just as I reach the stage, I hear the door open behind me and I turn to see Michael standing in the doorway. He's in the shadows, but I know it's him as he walks slowly toward me down the long aisle. I stand beside the stage, holding my elbows, feeling stupid and young.

“What's up?” he says as he nears me. “I got the feeling you were running away from me.”

“What? No, no, no,” I say, trying for,
Are you kidding, me run from you?

“Look,” he says, “about the other night. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Plenty of people don't like the dark.”

“Not everybody's such a freak about it though,” I say.

He shrugs. “Then they have other things to be a freak about.”

I look at him, because his tone is peculiar. “What are you a freak about?”

He comes up beside me and leans against the stage. I turn, and I'm too close to him, but I don't want to back up. I'm practically standing between his legs, but he doesn't seem to notice.

“I stay up all night drawing plans and then building them as models,” he says. “That's my dirty little secret. I'm so tired by the time I get to school, I can barely stay awake, but I can't seem to stop. It's all I want to do.”

He grabs my hand and pulls me closer so now I'm not
practically
standing between his legs, I
am
standing between his legs. I feel like I can't breathe. His eyes are dark and shadowed in the dim light.

“See,” he says, “everybody's got their thing …” He almost whispers it though, because he's pulling me even closer as he says it and I know, I
know
we're going to kiss and my head is going crazy with
ohmygodohmygodohmygod.

The door bangs open and a group of chattering people enter the auditorium. They go silent when they see us, and I jump away from Michael, feeling my cheeks flare.

Faith stands there with the rest of the debate club, and her face is pale white.

“What's he doing with
her
?” someone says, not trying to be quiet.

“Wow, Faith, who knew your replacement would be a
dork
,”
someone else says, and it's hard to miss the glee. These friends of Faith don't mind seeing her brought down a peg.

Before anybody else can say anything, I flee down a side aisle and escape out the back door into the parking lot.

This is bad, very bad.

Mom is awake, doing arm exercises, wincing as she does them. If she doesn't do the exercises, her arm will swell up like a balloon, but you can tell it's excruciating.

“How are you doing, Rinnie?”

“All good,” I lie.

The phone rings and we both jump, and then break out in half-hysterical laughter.

It's the school. I can tell right off because Mom goes from a hiccuping “H-h-h-ello?” to “Yes?” in a stronger voice and she's eyeing me. I squirm. I really didn't think through this whole ditching-school thing.

Mom hangs up and looks at me. She doesn't say anything.

“Okay,” I say. “Yes, I ditched school. I went to see the school counselor, I want you to know. I did
that.
And then I was sort of … upset, I guess. So I left.”

Her face crumples a little, and I wish I told her there was this movie I just
had
to see. Then she wouldn't think it was her fault I am becoming a juvenile delinquent.

“I should put you on restriction or something, shouldn't I?” She starts doing the arm exercises again, her face sweaty with the pain.

“Probably.”

She sighs. “Look, this is hard on both of us. Promise you won't do it again and we'll leave it at that. Okay?”

“Okay,” I say.

She looks away. “I know this is hard for you … especially after what happened with your dad. You seem so lost to me sometimes.”

“I'm right here,” I say. “Didn't need bread crumbs or anything to find my way back.”

“No …” She shakes her head and concentrates on her arm exercises for a minute. Up, over her head, down by her side. “Are you sure you don't want to join the school e-zine? I think it's very exciting that they asked you. And it would be a good way for you to engage.”

“Engage in what?”

“In the
world
, Erin,” she says because she knows I know what she's talking about. It's not the first time we've been on this conversational merry-go-round. Usually it's because I read so much. The e-zine thing is just a new twist.

“I think I'll go engage in a graham cracker,” I say. “Do you want one?”

School the next day is a nightmare. First of all, Mom's appointment is today, and as much as I begged, she wouldn't let me go with her.

Second, I find out in third period when someone says, “Hey it's Va-jay-jay Girl!” that everybody thinks I got caught in the girls' locker room looking at my own vagina in the mirror.

It is just bizarre enough to be believable.

People believe.

Unfortunately, I know exactly where the rumor came from. Yesterday, during gym, I started my period. I stood on the bench in the locker room so I could look at the back of my pants in the mirror to make sure I hadn't bled through. Missy Keller came in about that time and saw me. Later, I saw her whispering to Faith, looking at me, and laughing.