Twist (18 page)

“Lou, this is my fiancé, Clayton.”

Who has wiped the smile right off of my face
.

“
Nice to meet you,” I say. But it's not nice to meet him. “I need to get back to my dinner.”

“Hey, thank you for the referral,” Abby says.

“
Huh?”

“Beatrice Malcolm. I call her my mini-me.”

I must be hearing things. “I referred B?” My insides crash together and I put a hand on the bar to steady myself.

“You okay?” Abby asks.

“Yeah, I just need some food,” I say. “How's B doing?”

“She's adorable, and as fast as you were,” Abby says.

“I thought she was still in Seattle. What happened to her?”

Abby runs her fingers across her sealed lips and shakes her head. “I'm sure you know, since you referred her.”

“Right, that thing.” I reach my arms out and Abby hugs me.

“I'll see you later,” she says, and waves to my dad across the room.

When I get back to the table Dad says, “Abby's a doll.”

“Did you know she's working with B? That would mean that B
is
back.”

“No,” he says. “What's wrong with Bea?”

“Abby won't tell me. Claims I referred her.” I take giant bites of the salad because I'm hungry. With my mouth full I say, “Can you find out what's going on?” I examine Dad's face for any sign that he may already know what's up with B.

He holds his hands up. “I have no idea, really. Let's ask your mother.”

“Call her.” I manage to spit food on the table.

“Slow down, Lou,” he says. “We'll talk to her at home. Now take your time and enjoy your meal.” He takes a big swig of his beer and then asks, “Have you thought about college?”

“
No.”

“Will you?” He says. “Your grades haven't dropped too much. It's like you almost haven't missed a beat.”

I take a bite of my steak and slowly chew. Then I eat some potatoes. I feel like I've missed every beat in Luke's borrowed skin.

Dad waits for me to respond and the waiter checks on us—we send him away. “Look,” I say. “I still feel like I'm misplaced. I want to see B. I think she'll help. If you can arrange that, than I'll talk to the guy from USC. Or whichever school is the closest.”

Dad slams his beer down. “What is this obsession with Bea?”

I don't even flinch. Instead I casually say, “Does B look like Abby?”

“See what I mean,” Dad shakes his head, clearly aggravated and then catches a glimpse of the game again. “No, throw the ball you dumb f—”

“Well, does she?”

“You remember Bea, what do you think?” he says, keeping his eyes on the game.

“I want to see her in person,” I say. “I'll call Charlotte myself.”

“Might be better if you let me talk to George,” he says. “Let me find out what happened, then you can call Charlotte. But first, let's quiz your mom.”

I take another bite of my food. “That'll work. Can we do this tonight?”

“Yes, and on Saturday you'll talk to the USC scout?”

“Deal.”

Mom is on the phone when we get home, so I pace, waiting for her to hang up. She notices, mouths
What
? Then she says, “I've got to run, Charlotte, the boys are lurking.”

And
Dad and I say, “Wait!” as she hangs up.

“What is it with you two?” she says as she puts her phone down.

Dad tips his head toward me. “You ask her.”

“When did B finally get here and what's wrong with her?” I say. “Did you refer her to Abby?”

“Yes, she's had a rough time,” Mom says. “She didn't want anyone to see her that way.”

Dad looks genuinely surprised. “Why didn't you say something to me?”

“Because no one is supposed to know.” Mom walks into the kitchen and puts her wine glass in the sink. Dad and I trail behind her. We're standing so close to the sink, the water splashes us. “Back up,” she says.

“What's going on?” Dad asks.

“I don't know all the details,” she says. “And I'm supposed to wait until she's better before I tell you what I do know.”

“You can't stop there,” I say.

“Beatrice had some sort of inoperable brain lesion. With medicine and therapy they expect her to return to normal.”

“Therapy?” I ask.

Mom's face goes limp, and the tears roll. “It's a lot like what happened to you, Luke.”

“Can she walk?” Dad says.

Mom sobs and says, “It's so hard to talk about because of Lucas.”

Dad
puts his arms around her—and I stand there like a big dummy. After she cries for a while, she says, “She was paralyzed on her right side. I told them about Will, too.” Dad rubs Mom's back and then a whole new level of crying ensues.

“Did she have a stroke?” Dad says.

Mom puts a tissue up to her eyes. “I'm not sure.”

“Does she remember me?” I ask.

“Don't know the answer to that either. But the similarities to your recovery are uncanny.” Mom blows her nose.

“I need to see her,” I say. “Simon and I drive by there all the time. The house looks so . . . dead. Where is she?”

“Lou, that's stalkerish,” Dad says.

“But she's the only thing I remember.”

Mom hugs me. “Charlotte just told me Beatrice is getting better. Maybe it's time.”

Dad grips my shoulder. “See, it'll all work out.” He taps my chest. “USC.”

Chapter
36

I become a push-up monster, throw in some sit-ups, an hour using my hand weights in my room every night—and Luke's body becomes Lou's. I walk across the quad tall and lanky, trying not to think about B.

I grin when I step into the pep rally and everyone starts chanting, “Lou, Lou, Lou!”

Simon, Tate, and Murphy high-five me as I squish into the bleachers next to them and right behind Brad and the guys on the team. When the hollering subsides I hear someone shout, “Who knew you had this in you, Drake.” I look back and Wind is sitting with leather guy several rows back, and they both flash a big number one.

A girl sitting directly behind me says, “Everyone knows you, Lou.”

I do a double take because at first I don't recognize her—until I see the birds on her wrist. She was the stoner girl from study hall, but she didn't look like a stoner any more. “You look great,” I say.

She tucks her lips in, and looks away.

I reach around and touch her calf. “Seriously, whatever you're doing, it's awesome.” Soft dark wisps of hair encircle her pixie face. It's like slow motion when her long lashes operate in unison to lift the covers off of her soul-piercing eyes. “Your eyes are . . . stunning . . . intense.”

She giggles nervously. “Thank you, I think.”

Simon
softly says, “That's Isabella, the girl from third grade.”

“The one you threw spit wads at?” I ask.

“I'm right here,” she says. “You both did that because you liked me.”

“She's right.” Simon laughs and then he turns to her. “You look brighter, you know, cheerier, just . . . better.”

“A real Romeo.” She nudges him.

When the microphone makes a shrieking noise, we know the rally is about to begin. Isabella puts her hands on my shoulders and a rush of warmth spreads down my spine. “I've been watching you practice. You're good,” she whispers. “I'm going to the meet on Saturday.”

My entire skeletal system stiffens. “A . . . a . . . great.”

“Let's go for coffee some time,” she says. “I want to talk to you.”

Simon whispers, “She's a cutie.”

“I'd like that,” I say to her. I want to ask, can Simon come along, because he knows Luke better than I do. But the cheerleaders take over and we're engulfed in yelling drills from the stands.

Finally, Coach Hammond wraps up the rally with a speech and then he calls the swim team to the front. “I bet you can't recognize these guys with their clothes on!”

The crowd roars.

“Lou Drake has set a school record,” he yells.

“Lou, Lou, Lou.” The gym floor rumbles with foot stomping.

Coach Hammond puts his hands up for quiet. “Saturday is a big meet. And we are so fortunate to be alive, and a part of this wonderful experience.” He's looking right at
me.
I'm so grateful that he doesn't mention my name again. It's like he just wants me to know the words are for me, and then he's done.

I weave my way through the exiting students, passing snarky Erica, who I try to avoid. I find Simon waiting for me with Isabella outside the gym. “You should tell him,” he says.

“Tell me what?” Pink splashes cover Isabella's face. She shivers, so I take off my sweatshirt and put it over her shoulders. “Now I'm real curious,” I say.

Her tiny fingers cling to my jacket as she pulls it around her, blanket style. “I like you, Lou.” Then she looks away and says, “I figured if you could transform yourself, so could I. Besides, I couldn't remember what I was so angry about all the time. Anything would set my temper off, and for no reason. So I'd get high and not deal with stuff.”

Then she makes eye contact and says, “I didn't have to relearn how to walk and talk. I've been a spoiled brat my whole life.” She sniffs. “My dad lectures me on this sense of entitlement. I never thought that walking and talking would be something any of us took for granted.”

I wrap my arms around her and my eyes water. But I swallow a few times and hold on to her for longer than I should because I'm thinking about B. Simon and the guys disappear, so Isabella and I walk together. I'm afraid to speak. If I open my mouth I think I'll start bawling and want only to go back to that moment with B. The one thing I can fully remember of Luke.

“Lucas Drake was selfish, thoughtless, and arrogant,” she says. “I'm sorry, but that wasn't as noticeable until I met Lou.”

I grunt.

“
But we didn't talk or hang out much,” she says.

“When did you . . . change?” I stammer and feel so lame.

She chuckles. “The last time I got stoned was the day I saw you in study hall.” We stop and she turns to me. “I'm a work in progress, but gosh, life is so much easier when you don't fight everything.”

I hug her again.

“Drake, what's with this touchy-feely crap?” she says.

“I've been hating Lucas Drake for all the wrong reasons.” I gaze at her and say, “I'm glad you took out the nose ring.”

“Ha! So was my mom.”

I like this girl! “You are simply—”

She puts her hands up and jokingly says, “Don't even start with me. As much as I'd like it to go that way.” And then she chuckles.

“Friends?” I say.

“Of course,” she says. “But no more spit wads!”

Chapter
37

I'm as high as the Matterhorn when I get home. Best mood in months, until Dad stomps through the door. “Let's go,” he says. “Gotta fix George's sink.”

You can meet his niece. She's cute. C'mon. C'mon. C'mon . . .

I clap my hands over my ears and land on my knees. “Aaaaaa!”

Mom slams through the kitchen door. “What's wrong?” She's next to me on the floor. “What'd you do to him, Kyle?”

“Nothing!” Dad snaps.

“Don't just stand there, help me put him in a chair!” she says.

I pant like the wind was knocked out of me. “I can't . . . breathe.”

Mom gets me water and says, “Relax, Lou.”

My body's ablaze. I guzzle the water. Memories trample through my brain like shoppers at a Wal-Mart on Black Friday. “I remember,” I say.

Dad gawks at me. Mom puts her hand on my forehead, “You're kind of clammy.”

I push her hand away. “After everything we've been through, that's all you have to say?”

Dad says, “Well you're fine. We just are used to —“

“Now you're used to Lou?” I say.

“No. You've always been our son,” Mom says. “Don't be silly. Whether you remember or not.”

“Yeah,” Dad says.

I
pull my hair and don't know what to think. I am who I am—such a stupid revelation. Now I feel like I need to prove it to them. “You dropped my birthday cake, it was a traumatic childhood incident.”

“Are you going to bring that up again,” she says, but it looks like she's actually holding back laughter! “You were eleven, it happened! We put it back together . . . the parts that didn't hit the floor were edible.”

Dad snickers.

“You're not innocent here.” I point at him and his smile disappears. “‘Mister, I'm not going to make you go to that little girl's party at the zoo, but don't tell your mom.'”

“Oh, I remember that,” Mom says. “Fourth grade! But . . . you never went?”

Dad shrugs.

“I whined,” I say. “So he took me to the horse races instead. How do you like that?”

Dad puts his hands on my shoulders. “Luke's a good guy and so is Lou. Always have been one and the same.”

Mom puts her arms around me. “I'm proud of you, Lou. Or is it Luke now?” And she chuckles, and so does Dad.

“Is it funny?” I say. “What's going on with you two? You were preying on me for so long. I thought you'd be grateful that I know who I am!”

Mom pinches my cheek. “You have demonstrated such great character. I knew you'd be fine, no matter what. Lucas Drake, you're a wonderful human being. I'm elated.” She points at her face with a shaky finger and her voice ripples. “Tears of joy.”

Dad is beaming. “Ditto.”

We
stand in a huddle, both of them gazing at me, until Mom sniffles and says, “I'm going to call the doctor and make sure this is normal.”