Spark (5 page)

My ears popped, and my head pounded.  A flash of light.  Then it was like I saw him in my mind’s eye.  I could see what was in his mind.

Zach looked around quickly, a flash of recognition, resolve.

I know you….

I felt a little embarrassed.  Why was he staring at me anyway?  I felt a shock ripple across my head at the same time that he looked directly at me.  Above us, the enormous light fixtures flickered and went out.  The guy next to me tapped his computer screen, and then grumbled, “Geez.  I hope I saved that,” and pounded the table with his fist. 

Our eyes locked.  The band holding my ponytail snapped, my hair spilling out over my shoulders.  I tossed it to one side.  We both pulled off our sunglasses at the same time.  Zach’s face lit up.  He seemed even taller than before, a light surrounding him, a halo effect.

I have been looking for you.  And now you’re here. 

He reached his hand out to me as if to will me toward him.  I looked around, confused.  "Are you talking to me?"

You’re so perfect, just like I imagined.

A bright flash of light.  Everyone turned to look at me.  My cheeks burned.  What are they looking at?  I touched my hair self-consciously.  

It’s ok.  They all love you, just like I do.  They see how beautiful you are. 

I sighed with relief. 

I need to see you.  Please come closer.

I stood up, timidly.  My head raged with pain.  He smiled at me.

I'm so glad I found you. 

Then, out of nowhere Dani was walking toward him.  They embraced each other and walked out the door.  A whirl inside my stomach, my head.  My body went limp.

I was twisted in my sheets, covered in sweat, and it was morning. 

All I could think of the next morning was,
Zach had found me, finally
.

It was just a dream, I realized.  Still, I lay there for a minute or two, replaying it in my head—wishing it into reality.  Zach and I were a couple, and it was like we were talking to each other but we weren’t.  I could hear the words, but no one else seemed to notice.  He was on some sort of mission.  I wondered what sort of junk in my subconscious conjured up
that
line. 
Did I secretly want to be rescued?  Did I have some princess syndrome?  And what was it about Zach Webb anyway?  Why couldn’t I stop thinking about him?  I never even talked to the guy! 

That's when it hit me.  Cricket had been right.  I
did
have a crush on Zach. 
Great
, I thought. 
Now I’m going to act like a total dork around him and everyone will know that I like him
.  Add the fact that Zach could never be interested in me and it was a recipe for a complete disaster, a high school drama to end all dramas.

It All Begins

At this point, I was seriously wishing school would start sooner, just so I could get the agony over with, but there were still a couple of weeks to go.  To make matters worse, Zach just kept popping up everywhere I went.  At the video store, at the movies—in traffic, for Pete’s sake.  Was it some kind of crazy coincidence or something more?  At any rate, I guess you could say it was an entertaining way to spend the rest of my summer, and by the time school started, Zach was no longer a mystery.

One Sunday, Mom wanted to go shopping for curtains, and I cannot tell you how much I hate to shop.  Anyway, I told her I wasn’t really in the mood, and she decided to let me wait for her at the food court.  She had bought me an iPhone and surfing the Internet was way more interesting than looking at lame curtains.  So I planted myself at a little round table at the food court, out of the way, partially hidden from the main court area by a large column and a fake tree. 
No need to draw attention to myself,
I thought.  At first, I felt a little strange sitting there by myself, but then I realized the place was literally packed with people—middle-aged women in heels toting fifteen shopping bags, teenagers in baggy jeans on cell phones, kids tugging parents’ arms.  No one was going to notice me anyway.  Then I remembered the hat and sunglasses I’d put on that morning
. 
I probably looked like a complete freak.  I slumped down in my seat and glanced at my phone, noticing that there were zero new messages. 

I heard loud laughter coming from nearby and looked around, noticing a group of teenagers, three girls and two guys, making their way into the food court.  I recognized them from outside the school after orientation.  The girls, including Strappy Tank Girl, strolled by in their layered tank tops and shorts―gigantic bags thrown over their shoulders with dangling rings and beaded jewelry.  The guys followed them, laughing childishly in their flip flops, polos, and plaid shirts. 

I stared intently at my cell phone, at my big empty inbox, feeling invisible as I watched them pass from the corner of my eye.  When they were a safe distance away, I looked up, watched them gather around a table, still laughing.  At least two of them appeared to be a couple, a girl in a pink shirt with curly blonde hair and a short guy wearing a ball cap.  They sat down very close to one another and had their own little conversation, oblivious to the rest.  While Pinky and Shorty made eyes at each other, the rest of them carried on animated conversations, pushing buttons on their cell phones, laughing way too loudly.  I watched them for a while, painfully aware that there were no beeps or flashing icons on my cell phone at the moment.  I was suddenly dreading the start of school in a few weeks. 

One of the guys with blonde hair, cut military style, suddenly got up… an obvious sign that he was the ring leader and it was time to go.  The others stood up, but I wasn’t watching them anymore.  Right there, walking through the mall, heading straight toward the Beautiful People was none other than Zach Webb.  He breezed right by them without saying a word.  Strappy Tank looked over her shoulder and rested her chin there for a second, looking as if she might be disappointed he hadn’t stopped to talk to her.  But then one of the others gave Zach a glance, made some inaudible comment, and they went on talking amongst themselves.  My cheeks got hot and I looked away.  I knew what it was like to be on the fringe, not quite fitting into any discernible group.  We were different, Zach and I. 
I know what it’s like to be the tallest girl in school
, I thought. 
For a guy, being tall means power.  For a girl, it means 'off limits.'

I was shamelessly staring, but thankfully I still had my sunglasses on.  Still, I couldn’t resist the urge to peek over the top of them as he went out the door.  When I realized I probably looked really dumb wearing sunglasses inside, I reached up and took them off.  Just as I was about to look away, he looked casually over his shoulder in my direction, paused for a moment, and slipped outside.  This is going to sound crazy, but our eyes met, sort of locked together for a second.  From all the way across the food court.  Insane, I know.  But I
felt
it.  It was sort of like in my dream.  And believe me, I’m pretty skeptical when it comes to stuff like that.  Like one time, Dani told me she dreamed she had an orange cat named Tinkerbell and some kid showed up at her door a week later handing out flyers for a lost cat.  “Was it orange?”  I’d asked, not seeing the relevance of the story at that point. 

“No, but its name was Skippy.”

“So,” I said, still not getting it.

“
So…
Tinkerbell.  Peter Pan. 
Skippy. 
Peanut butter—get it?”  It was a stretch, but that’s how Dani operated.  Dreams are overrated if you ask me.

So a few weeks before school started, I decided to take myself to a matinee at the old theater downtown.  I just had an urge to get out of these four walls and go exploring.  I thought about calling Cricket, but I still didn’t know her very well, and I wanted some time just to chill by myself.  There would be plenty of time to socialize later. 

              Mom was in a good mood that morning, so I figured it was safe to ask her if I could borrow the car.  She didn’t normally even let me drive unless she rode with me, and my own car was out of the question.  I was destined to be the only high school senior on the bus, unlike Cricket, whose parents had bought her a car the day she turned sixteen.  When I approached Mom about her car, she agreed, but with strict instructions.  “Go straight to the theater, don’t make any unnecessary stops, and make sure you check the lock twice,” she said.

“
Mom,
It's not like I’m thirteen,” I replied with a groan.  “I can manage driving myself to a movie.”  My mom winced a little at the mention of me being thirteen, and I felt a little guilty, so I gave her a hug.  “I’ll be fine!”

With a forced smile, Mom said, “I know, Sweetie,” as if she were just a little bit hurt that I hadn’t invited her along.  I was expecting her to suggest a girls’ day, but she just sighed and threw her hands up nonchalantly.  “I just worry about you, that’s all.”  

Here we go again
, I thought.  She’s going to give me a lecture about
my health, adjusting socially,
and
my overall recovery.
About how I’ve been
through so much.  Um, actually, Mom, I can’t really say I’ve been through something if I don’t remember any of it.  It’s like a big empty space.  A black hole.  Nothing there, and therefore, nothing.  
“I know, Mom.  We’ve been through this a million times.” I reached for the keys and was off. 

I was early for the 2:00 show, so I took my time driving, checking out the scenery and listening to music.  I pulled up to the stoplight at the corner of Division and Grant, about three or four blocks away from the theater.  It was ninety-five degrees and my windshield was dirty.  The sun was glaring and annoying and my air conditioner wasn’t working fast enough.  Neither was the stoplight.  I stared at it as if my gaze would change it.  I tapped the steering wheel and gripped it with both hands and it was then that I glanced at the white car beside me.  There was a person in it, a male person, a very cute male person, a person with light brown hair.  Zach!  And would you believe that he turned, right then and there and
looked
at me?  He stared through that window, his eyes planted right smack on me.  Me!  Well, at least he planted his sunglasses on me and it sure seemed like he was looking at me.  I debated whether to wave at him, and then decided I’d look like an idiot and just stared straight ahead instead. 

Zach, right next to me in his white car—what are the odds?  His car lurched forward, passing me.  When I realized that the light had changed, I drove, full of strange thoughts.  I always had strange thoughts, but this time was different.  I thought about not being invisible anymore.  I thought about Zach and for some reason, I thought—I can’t believe I am telling you this—
what if this Zach had seen the impossible—what if he had seen an invisible girl mid-float, had witnessed her, plummeting back to reality?  And he didn’t even know it?  Wouldn’t he want to know?  Eventually?  Because you never realize what you’ve seen until later when someone explains it to you, right?  He might want to know that he had set the pivotal moment into motion, the moment that had begun in invisibility and had ended with goosebumps on my arms.
Punctuation at the end of a very long, rambling sentence.  A useless sentence that has trouble making sense.  This is going to sound really lame, but for the first time in months,
I felt alive. 
I’d woken up after being all but dead.  But today, something changed.  My heart was thumping with excitement.

              So, I did the only thing left to do.  I followed him.

              I drove, my eyes locked on his license plate, mumbling the number to myself a few times.  I started to get all sweaty and nervous and I glanced in my rearview mirror as if, by chance, someone was following me, too.  But there was just a pizza delivery guy behind me, driving a dented little car with a loud stereo.  I could hear the base thumping away. 

              Zach turned onto a side street, then another.  I was really starting to worry.  If he got too far off the main street, he’d figure out that I was behind him, a lunatic on his trail.  I mean, let’s be honest here.  I was basically stalking the poor guy just like all those pitiful girls at school.  I decided to lag behind as not to appear too obvious.  Strategy is always good.  I even started to relax a little, turned up the stereo, and started drumming my hands on my jeans. 

              When he pulled over and went into a parking lot, I panicked.  He’d surely seen me.  He had stopped to find out who I was and why I was following him.  I went right on by, of course, thinking
he
would follow
me. 
When he didn’t, I sighed with relief, went around the block and returned to the scene, parking just a few feet down on the street, far enough that I was slightly hidden, but still well within view of his car. 

              He had already gotten out, of course, so I was just sitting there watching an empty car.  Your average person would have shrugged, chalked it up to a momentary lapse of sanity, and high-tailed it back home.  But—have you already guessed?—I’m not your average person.  In fact, I’m the furthest thing from average.  I had gone to the trouble of following this guy, and I was going to sit there until I figured out why.  Something had compelled me to do it.  But what? 

              As I said before, explanations never come when you need them, and this was no exception.  I sat.  I sat for a whole hour.  I examined the building.  It looked like it had been abandoned years ago, an old brick monstrosity three stories high, decked with a rickety, rusted out fire escape, a large gray door, and a single row of blacked out windows, one of which had a single, baseball-sized hole in it. 

              After what seemed like eons, the door opened and Zach appeared.

              He carried nothing—not a briefcase or a gym bag or a coffee mug.  His hands were shoved in his pockets, his head slightly down.  He dug keys out of his pants pocket and got inside his car.  I sat and watched him drive away.  Don’t ask me why, but I had a feeling he’d be back.  And I knew just where to find him.