Dead and Beloved (3 page)

I wake early the next morning, though the long night has left me feeling sleepy. I'm grinning during my preparations, and even sing along to the songs blasting from my computer. Last night's adventure was worth the trouble it took to sneak out and then back in. Jessica was perfect. I wolf down my breakfast of pills and protein at the hospital cafeteria and run to catch my shuttle.

In English, I'm quick to reach the assigned book in my tablet. My eyes are focused on the screen, but in my mind I see Jessica. I see her breath curling in the night. The nightgown. Her hair. Her eyes. I can even feel her cool touch again. Everything about her is angelic, and now I have a voice to match the words she's written me.

When the bell rings, I skirt out of class and rush to Biology, determined to get through today without detention.

That afternoon, someone named Paige sends me an email telling me that Jessica has gone out of town for the weekend. I still open a chat session that night, hoping for the best, but the screen stays blank. I get a good workout and start filling out the required forms for Stanford.

Weekends aren't terrible at the hospital. Well, they're not great either. I run a lot on the overhead track in our gym and the basketball pickup games on Saturdays calm me more than my assigned punching routines. I'm not allowed on the school team, another compromise for school admission, so Saturdays are my only chance to play the sport I've always loved.

I think a lot about my friend Andre while I'm playing basketball. We were hot shots, once upon a time. Our sophomore team at Viewmont took first in the region. Andre and I got to dress Varsity for the playoffs that year. But that was before all the trouble, before the Virus. Andre is gone now and so are our carefree days of balling. Now when I play, I wear his old number four jersey to remember what living used to be like.

On Monday, I'm eager to hear from Jessica. I'm early to every class and don't even mind when Mr. Heaps focuses his lesson on Breytazine. Everyone sounds excited for a possible cure and talk of the doctor who discovered it fills the blather in the hall that day.

I'm barely into our chat session that night when Jessica's first message appears on the screen. “Hi Ryan.”

I smile as a memory of her voice accompanies the words. “I missed you,” I answer.

“Better days?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Passed Bountiful on Friday. Thought of you.”

I feel my face warming. “When can I see you again?” I ask. “Tonight?”

“Not tonight. I have a better idea.”

There's a smiley face at the end that makes my heart jump. What could be better than seeing each other in a few hours? “???”

“Alta plays at Viewmont this Friday. Can you go?”

I almost fall out of my chair. “Basketball?”

“You said you love basketball.”

“I do.” My words type faster than I can think them. “A date?”

“Yes,” she answers. “I'll meet you there.”

I stop breathing long enough to gasp for air. Jessica wasn't kidding—this is better than sneaking out to see her at home. I feel my forehead sweat and I'm having trouble thinking of what to say. “I'll be there,” I answer, trying to contain the excitement in my shaking fingers. “You know what I look like.”

She answers with another smiley face.

“Do we get to chat between now and then?” I ask.

“I'll try.” There's a pause, then more. “Don't be mad if I can't. K?”

I could never be angry with Jessica. Not ever. She's so perfect. “No worries.” I add a smiley face, though it's not my style. The little icon looks strange and foreign coming from me. What is she doing to me?

“See you Friday. <3”

My stomach twists and turns all over again. A heart. A heart. I'm weightless inside as I stare at the screen.

“Ryan?”

“I'm here,” I respond. I'm here. “See you Friday.”

“Sweet dreams.”

It's like I'm standing in her backyard all over again. She's wonderful tonight, still perfect. I stare at the words from our chat and read them over and over, examining them for some unknown meaning. Words and memories are all I have of her, and they are wonderful. All of them. I leave the screen on and stare at it until tonight's prescription puts me to sleep.

~ O ~

The week doesn't go by fast enough. I open a chat session every night, but Jessica never comes. I'm not worried, though. I repeat her words from Monday over and over in my mind and it helps me get through each day. The time gives me the chance to finish one of my essays for Stanford. I tuck it into the envelope but decide to wait before mailing it, wondering if I should get Jessica's advice on it first.

On Friday, cardinal and gold banners line every hallway. The excitement in the air this morning builds up the anticipation for the game. First period is cancelled for a rally in the gym.

Alta beat Viewmont two years ago for the state championship. Since then, we've been dying for payback. Though the varsity members of that team are gone now, the rest of us never forgot. I was a sophomore then and was at the game, dressed and ready to play. I never made it on the court, though. Alta picked us apart and we lost by twelve points. More than ever, I wish I could play.

“Tonight is a night we'll never forget,” announces Mr. Todd, the principal, to start the rally.

If he only knew.

Everyone cheers, including me.

The cheerleaders line up and, one by one, the basketball team enters the gym. The students, faculty, everyone explodes with yells and cheers. It's so loud that the echoes ring in my head. I cheer along. I know these guys. I've played with most of them since elementary school. None of them were on the court that night we lost to Alta. My revenge will be in their hands tonight.

After the rally, little else is talked about in class. An officer from the student council, a cheerleader, or someone from the basketball team comes in every period to promote the game.

Jason Davies, one of the starting guards, gives me a nod when he visits Geometry. We don’t have any classes together and I’ve seen him only a few times since my return to school. “I wish none of this had happened to you,” he says to me. “We could use your outside shot.”

I smile back. Not at his surprising kindness, but at the stunned looks from everyone. I’m the only senior in the class, having missed out on a full year of math; the other kids are sophomores or juniors. They didn't know me when I was normal, when I dribbled a ball to every class and the teachers didn't care. They weren't at the rally two years ago when Andre and I were pulled from the sophomore team and given varsity uniforms for the game that night.

“Good luck,” I tell him. “I'll be there tonight watching you win.”

More shocked looks from the other students and even a gasp.

~ O ~

After special arrangements and a call to my lawyer, the hospital allows me to go the game. The admissions attendant even sends me with luck for the team as I step into the shuttle. I've taken care to make myself look as good as possible tonight, though the cologne I borrowed from the zombie across the hall smells more like soap to me than anything a girl would like to inhale. Still, I tried.

The high school is a madhouse when we arrive and the shuttle driver circles twice trying to find a place to park. He settles on a spot across the street and follows me inside the school.

“Might as well enjoy myself,” he says to me as we're let into the gym. “Where can I find a good seat?”

“They're all good,” I answer. “I'm gonna sit in the student section. I'll meet you at the shuttle after the game.” I scamper up the bleachers before he has a chance to follow me. The last thing I want tonight is a chaperone.

The game starts and I still haven't seen Jessica. I stand up and search the other side of the gym, but there’s no sign of her. Students are stomping and cheering. Despite the excitement, I have a hard time concentrating on the action. The gym starts to blur. My stomach sinks. As the game goes on, my forehead warms.

With ten minutes left in the second quarter, Jason steals the ball and makes a couple great moves before laying it in to tie. Our side of the building explodes with cheers and everyone is on their feet yelling. Everyone but me. Jessica is still not here. More and more, I think she's gotten lost, her parents have kept her from coming, or she's changed her mind about me. The sinking feeling in my stomach continues until it feels like I've descending well below the floor. The sounds of the crowd start to muffle, every squeal and bounce of the players shoes on the court echoes, and the waves and movements of the people in front of me change to slow motion. What is happening to me? I stare at my feet to fight the sensation.

“Ryan?” The most beautiful voice in the world breaks me from my trance.

I lift my head to face her. She's standing in front of me, wearing a red sweater. Her hair is curled below her shoulders. Her eyes are wide with welcome.

“Hi!”

People around me turn to watch. The whispers start.

“Let's go up there,” I say, pointing to the walkway behind me. “We can talk.” I see the stares of the crowd as I stand, but I don't care. She's here and I'm with her. When Jessica grabs my hand to pull me, I know I'm grinning.

“Were you worried?”

I nod because my throat seems to have shrunk. Plus she's still holding my hand and sparks are shooting up my arm. I can't stop looking at her. I don't want to miss any moment of the night we have together.

“Follow me,” I say. “I'll show you around the school.” I lead her out of the gym and into the quiet of the empty hall. “I'm glad you came.”

She looks up at me and smiles. “It's good to hear your voice.”

I think that's strange because with my condition my voice has become hoarse and scratchy. I smile back at her and pull her close into a hug. She accepts it and expands her chest into me with a single long breath. It's a fantastic moment and I want it to last forever, but a mother comes out from the gym carrying a crying baby. She looks at us, not paying attention at first, then sees my face and gasps.

I pull Jessica away and lead her down another hall where no one can watch us. We talk casually while I show her the different rooms where I go to class. We circle the school several times, but I'm not counting; I'm savoring the sensation of her hand gripping mine and the sound of her voice.

“Where's your locker?” she asks.

“You want to see my locker?”

“Sure.” Jessica swings her arm playfully, lifting mine with hers.

I can't resist. I lead her back the way we came and take her down the darkened hallway to my locker. It feels creepy here in the shadows, but it's quiet.

“Death to zombies?” Jessica traces her finger along an inscription on my locker door.

I smirk and move her hand away. “People think they're funny. But for all they know, zombies are already dead.”

My joke makes her laugh, and I'm happy she understands it that way. “You're not dead,” she says. She runs a finger up the center of my chest, making me shudder. “I feel the heat inside of you. There's life, and feeling, and plenty more.”

My back is against the locker and she's leaning against me. “How does someone like you put up with someone like me?” I ask.

She grins and heaves another deep breath into my chest. “You make me alive, Ryan. When I'm talking with you, I feel everything that a person is meant to feel. It's as if a lifetime of emotion is stirring inside of me.”

“I feel the same way.” It's true, because my stomach is spinning and twisting.

“There's something special between us. I don't want to lose it.”

“It can't last forever,” I say. “I mean—I want it to, but I am infected. One day I'll be gone.”

“But you'll always be with me.” Jessica leans her head against my chest. “Inside. I don't care what happens in the future. I'm not worried about then. All I know is that our moments together are special. I'll remember them forever.”

I don't know what to think. She's so honest, so right. Our friendship isn't meant to last. I'm an experiment; the doctors can only slow down my symptoms and treat the effects for a while. One day, I'll change into the monster that everyone around me fears. It's only a matter of time.

“I'll break your heart someday,” I tell Jessica. “I don't like knowing that. It's more frightening to me than my future.”

“Why?” Jessica looks up at me. Her eyes are moist, but she isn't crying. “I know who you are. I accept it.” She leans backward, pulling on my arms, and I hold her upright. “This is high school. We get one shot, one chance to live it. I like living this way. It feels good. It feels pure. I don't care what my friends think. I don't care what my parents say. I care about you and the way you make me feel.” She's staring at me, searching my eyes with hers. “This is an experience. I'm happy to have found you and am glad you accept me.”

“I'll always accept you,” I say. “You're beautiful.”

She pulls herself into my chest again. Then she slowly lifts her chin to look up at me. She's so close and so perfect that I can't hold back. I lower my face and take a deep breath. Then I kiss her.