Between These Lines (A Young Adult Novel) (15 page)

“Some
kids collect trophies . . .” It was a lame thing to say.
 

“April
18
^th.
” She reached out to touch one of the curled papers, noting the
date of the accident. “I had no idea.”

I
watched as her head shook back and forth.

“The
poem—it means more to you than anyone realizes.” Evie’s tender voice
whispered as she continued to stare at the wall. “I can’t imagine what you went
through. You must have been in so much pain.”

I
followed her face to the clipping in line with her eye. It was the one that
described my stay at the hospital.

“I
don’t really remember it. Most of what I do remember is from these articles.
They’re the only way to convince myself the accident ever happened at all.”

My
room felt still and heavy as she reached out to touch a yellowed paper, the one
that mentioned the burns.

“.
. . over 30 percent of his body . . .”

My
heart pounded wildly in my chest. This was why I brought her here. This was
what I meant in the car when I said I had something to show her. When she
looked back at me, having finally torn herself from the wall of excruciating
memories, I knew she could be the one person I could trust with my past.

I
swallowed hard. “It’s funny. I don’t remember one detail about the accident,
other than what I’ve read in these articles. Yet every day I’ve lived since
then has been one big reminder.”

“I
overheard Shane and Jake in the hallway.” Her voice was so low it was almost
hard to hear. “I was on my way to the library to find you. They said something
I didn’t understand at the time, something about how you and I were damaged
goods.”

“Not
you. They were talking about me.”

Never
in a hundred years would I have guessed I would do what I was about to,
especially in front of Evie Cunningham—but something told me to go with
it. Something told me it would be all right to trust her.

I
reached up to the collar of my shirt and let my hand rest at the button near my
neck. My fingers trembled, but I stared at her, refusing to look anywhere else.
She said nothing, not a single word, watching with eyes that burned me like the
flames had long ago. I let my thumb put pressure on the little white button and
pushed it through the hole. The next one slipped easier, followed by the next,
until before I could change my mind, half my shirt was hanging loose from my
body, leaving me exposed from the waist up.

I
heard her draw in a deep breath. That’s when I closed my eyes. I knew when I
opened them she could be gone. She could silently slip downstairs, past the
almost boiling tea kettle, and leave without a single word. She could go to
school tomorrow knowing what no one else knows about me.

I
was a freak, a monster.

Hands
smooth and cool as silk were on my arm, moving upward toward the large pink
mass of twisted skin. I felt her fingers trace along the edge of the giant scar
that bloomed just beneath my throat; the one that fanned out across my chest
and wrapped around to my back. I knew I was hideous, yet I couldn’t understand
what prompted her to want to touch it for herself.

Slowly,
I opened my eyes, stunned to find that her face wasn’t contorted in disgust
like Shane had so surely predicted she would be. Instead, her features gleaned
with curiosity. Her fingers were gentle, like air kissing my skin, and I
watched, mesmerized that she could be so captivated by the lines the fire had
carved into my flesh. I waited for the revulsion to strike her, for her hand to
recoil from my skin, but instead, she stepped closer, reached up to place her
hand behind my neck, and drew my face toward hers.

I
pulled her closer, cautious that she might change her mind and step away from
me. But Evie was calm as she ran both hands along the tops of my shoulders,
carefully pulling my shirt down to catch on my bent elbows. I watched as she
circled behind me, her eyes never leaving my skin, and for the first time in my
life, I let someone really see me.

“I
don’t scare you?”

She
shook her head, “It’s amazing, not scary.”

“I
never showed anyone what I look like,” I admitted, still nervous that her
reaction could be swayed, causing her to run.

“Does
it bother you when I touch it?”

“No,
your hand feels nice. Warm.”

Evie
smiled up at me sweetly. Just then, the kettle screamed from downstairs, and I
began to button my shirt, hiding my scars from the world once again.

***

She
brought the cup to her lips as I pulled the last of the timeline from the
printer.

“Finally
finished,” I held the white paper in the air and waved it triumphantly.

She
smiled slyly from across the room and shook her head, “You had everything done
before we even started, didn’t you?”

“Of
course not,” I lied. I never told her my paper was finished before she
suggested working on it together, but I played along with her now, letting her
have fun with her little accusation.

Evie
carefully rose to her feet, collected the crumbs from the cinnamon bun into her
hand, and placed the cup down on my desk. She held the plastic report cover
open for me as I placed the papers inside, not letting the collection of
clippings on the wall grab her attention as she did when she first came in.

“Voila,”
she said with a smile that faded all too soon. “I guess you’ll need to take me
home now.”

With
a bit of caution, I reached out to her, still worried I would overstep any
boundaries. I wanted to cup her face in my hand, and my throat grew thick as
she willingly leaned into it, reminding me how remarkably easy it was to feel
comfortable around her. I settled my chin on top of her soft hair and let it
sink in that she was here, this was really happening.

“Are
you sure you’ll be ready for tomorrow?”

I
pondered her question with closed eyes, refusing to answer just yet. I didn’t
want to face what was coming and ruin what was happening right now.
Reluctantly, my body tensed against hers as the answer finally took shape
within me, no matter how hard I tried to hold it in.

“You
don’t have to do this. Headmaster Whitley will understand.” She whispered with
a fierce hope tangled in her voice. Her arms tighten around me as if to keep me
out of harm’s way.

“I
already said I would.” I pictured this afternoon in my head and knew there was
no way out of the promise I grudgingly gave. No matter how tomorrow night would
shape up, there was no backing out. Besides, exposing Shane for who he really
was would make Evie rest easier.

“This
could be really bad if Shane finds out. There’s no telling what he’ll do.”

 
“I’ll play it safe, I promise. Besides,
I’m going to have a wire on me. The police will know where I am at all times,
just like a real drug bust. It’s kind of cool.”

That’s
when she lifted her eyes to mine, and no, it wasn’t cool to her at all.

“You
know what you have to do, don’t you? You have to act like you’re one of them if
this is ever going to work.”

I
nodded, allowing her cheerless voice to pull me into the grim picture of what
tomorrow would be like.

“That
means you have to be insensitive and obnoxious and . . .”

“Evie,”
I edged my way in, cutting her off. “Even if I have to be like that tomorrow,
you know I’m not any of those things. It won’t be me.”

“I
know it won’t. It’s just . . .” She shook her head. “Shane is persuasive and
I’m just afraid you’ll get caught up in his game. Shane plays a good part
around school, which means you have to be just as good. You have to be
convincing.”

The
only person who needed convincing tonight was me, and Evie had already helped
with that. She convinced me that I didn’t have to be my worst enemy. Tomorrow,
however, I would face the one who could be both of ours, and I only hoped the
strength she helped me find tonight would last until then.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Evie

It took a
while, but I persuaded Chase to stay in the car while I walked up the long,
curving driveway to the back of my house. He was sweet and wanted to make sure
I got in all right. I knew the idea of letting me go alone was a difficult one.
It was a reminder of the awful progression of events the night he had left me
to walk these very steps with Shane.

I
hurried in the dark, my skin prickling beneath my coat. Part of it was worry.
Would Shane show up again? Was he already waiting for me around back? The other
part of that peculiar feeling inside me was Chase. It was tonight and
everything we talked about. He was so real. So sweet. I wanted him to kiss me
in the dark of the front seat. I wanted to be close to him.

When
he’d held me in his room, his arms were tender, warm, and made me feel like I
was floating away from the world—including the headache waiting for me
back at home.

A
soft glow greeted me as I stepped up onto the back porch, and for once, I got a
little excited. Maybe my dad decided to end his night early and come on home.
He’d spent so many late nights at his office that I didn’t get to see him much.
There was nothing normal about my parents’ balance between work time and home
time. It was ridiculous that I never knew when to expect either one. Sometimes
I wondered who the adult was under our roof, except when I tried to pull what
they did. Like not letting them know where I was on a school night. Like
tonight. That was when I got the clearer picture of who was in charge.

With
my key barely in the lock, the door flew away from me, and my mother, red faced
and livid, stood in her bathrobe, hands on her hips.

“Where
on earth were you? Do you know what time it is?”

Like
I said, they were unpredictable.

I
shrugged past her and made for the fridge.

“Answer
me,” she insisted behind me.

She
was more uptight than ever tonight, disheveled and agitated in her pink robe
and bare feet. Her face was wiped clean of makeup, which was unusual, although
some smudgy shadows still clung to the skin beneath her eyes. It gave the
impression she had been crying and hadn’t done a very good job covering it up.
I’d never seen my mother cry, although I was sure I must have at some point.
She was always so stiff and unbreakable to me. There were times I seriously
wondered if she could allow herself to be emotional at all.

“I
was finishing a paper that’s due.”

“That
only says what you were doing, not where you were doing it. Or who with.”
 
There was a brittle edge to her voice,
and, judging by her accusation, I was sure she had been planning on catching me
doing what every mother fears—that I would be caught with a boy.

Only
that didn’t make sense to me.

Every
time our conversations turned toward school, nine times out of ten, Shane’s name
was brought up. She always reminded me how I should be lucky to have a
boyfriend like him, how lucky I was to have his friends as my friends. My
mother encouraged our dates. She pushed me to spend time with him whenever
possible. Why would she suddenly become suspicious of me now?

Part
of me wanted to tell her the truth, just to see how she would react. I could
tell her I was with a boy, at his house, in his room—only not the way I
knew she assumed. I wanted to hear the change in her voice when she learned it
was someone other than Shane, someone without many friends, someone outside of
the tight-lipped, tight-assed Whitley circle that dominated this town. Wouldn’t
that sit well?

“I
was at the library, Mom,” I lied. I just couldn’t bring myself to pull Chase
into this.

I
grabbed my bag, weary from all that has happened over the last few days and
yet, still feeling the rush from being with Chase tonight. Emotions were
colliding inside me. I couldn’t decide if I should go to bed and pass out for
the night, or jump up and down. I started for the stairs. I needed a shower. I
needed my pajamas. I needed to lie in the dark of my room and let tonight come
to a mind-numbing, cataclysmic head.

Her
sob made me pause and look over my shoulder. So foreign and detached, it
practically hovered in the air between us, until it came again, and I allowed
myself to realize the noise actually came from my mother. Her body slowly
melted from a standing position into the chair at the kitchen table, where she
hid her face in her hands and began to cry.

I
stepped closer, cautious, curious, my heart tearing in half as I watched her
shoulders shake, and I reached my hand out and placed it on her back, feeling
the thin bones of her frame beneath my touch.

“Mom?”

Between
breaths, she played with the cuff of her sleeve, trying to control the
meltdown. This broken barrier between us was so unexpected I wasn’t sure how to
comfort her.