(Don't You) Forget About Me (18 page)

TWELVE

AS FOOTE AND I LEAVE THE REFORMATORY, PUSHING
the bent bicycle between us, I cast one look back at the main building. For a second I see a face at the second-floor window. It is Piper, staring out at me, wondering why I am walking away.

But then I blink, and she is gone.

I try to imagine her inside. I try to imagine one of the guards manhandling her. I can't. She would kill them. Like Ozzy. Poor Ozzy if he messed with Piper, thinking she was defenseless.

Suddenly I can hear Ozzy saying to me, “My mom says I was a good boy until I went to work at the reformatory. She says she would rather have starved than had me work there.”

We were standing on the bleachers. I remember it suddenly. I am lying on the bleachers with time fading in and out. Ozzy sits a row above me. One of the stadium lights behind his head gives him a halo. He looks so sad and lost. I try to tell him it's okay, but my tongue won't work.

“Course we wouldn't have starved. Just lived on charity like we always had. But if I worked at the reformatory, we could have a nice house with one of them big TVs. Mom said it wasn't worth it, 'specially since you only can get one station on it anyway. Maybe she was right. From the first day, it felt bad being there. And then later, when it started feeling good, it still felt bad. I wanna be good. I wanna stop telling you Piper's in there somewhere, 'cause she's not. Not really anyway. Not like you want her to be. I got into that locked room, Sky. It wasn't locked 'cause they were hiding Piper away. The roof had caved in. It was just a safety thing. Safety. 'Cause we wouldn't want the inmates to suffer, right?” Ozzy laughed bitterly and then abruptly stopped. “I tried to kiss Piper. I'd been looking for her for so long, and then there she was. Different but the same too. She pushed me away and I got mad. I told her, ‘In here
I'm
the one who's in charge.' Then I kissed her again. I know that's a bad thing to do, but some of the guys there do worse. They cop feels and close doors and tell me to keep watch in case someone comes, but no one ever comes. No one who cares or would do anything to stop it anyway. But I never did that except once or twice. Don't look at me like that, Sky. I didn't ever do it again after that second time 'cause the girl started crying. Just these silent tears falling the whole time. The only thing I ever did after that was try to kiss Piper, but that—”

Somehow I found the strength to reach out and touch Ozzy's cheek. It was wet with tears. But my touch wasn't enough to release him. He had already been damned. As my hand fell away, he stood and climbed the bleachers until he was at the top. He was black against the bright lights. Then he jumped, and for a split second the air held him and it seemed like he could fly away and find a better place where he could be a better man. Of course, that didn't happen. I never heard him hit the ground though. Instead, I closed my eyes and made both of us disappear.

“So you want to maybe explain a few things to a newcomer?” Foote asks me.

I stare at him stupidly, still seeing Ozzy. “What?”

“I'm feeling a little lost here. I thought maybe you'd want to take pity on me and break things down.”

“Okay,” I say, and nod. Then I take a deep breath and let it all out. “I think Piper killed Ozzy. He kissed her, and she shouldn't have any powers in the reformatory, but Piper's never been like everyone else. I think she told him to jump.” I don't mention to Foote that I can't figure out why Ozzy didn't jump earlier, why he waited until that moment when I was beside him. I leave that behind and move on to the next puzzle piece. “And I think Piper somehow made Jonathan's sister, LuAnn, believe she's Piper. And I think Piper is behind what happened in the yard today. I think she's planning it all. I think she's going to destroy the reformatory.”

Foote stares at me with wide eyes. “Is that . . . is that even possible?”

“No, not really, but . . .” I hesitate. Wanting to trust Foote. No, needing to trust Foote. There is something about him and the way he looks at me with his true blue eyes that makes me not care if he's just another devil with a pretty face. It must be the way that Piper felt about Elton. But even knowing how that turned out for her, I can't help but want to tell Foote. To take a chance and let him see Piper's brilliance and bravery. And maybe I want him to see a bit of that in me too.

“Seven years ago Piper and I began collecting the dirt from the reformatory and sprinkling it into our food. At first it made me and a bunch of other kids really sick, but then we built up a tolerance to it. The plan was that when we ended up in the reformatory, we wouldn't be victims; it wouldn't suck us dry. Instead, we would be strong and turn the tables on them, and then . . .”

“And then what?” Foote prompts me.

I smile stupidly, feeling like the world's biggest idiot. “Then we destroy the reformatory. Don't ask me how. I don't know. I just remembered that little bit a few minutes ago, but the rest of it . . .” My throat closes. “I forget.”

One of Foote's oversized hands comes toward my face and gently wipes a smudge of dirt away. I grab hold of the hand and then am stuck, uncertain what to do next, only knowing that I want Foote to touch me again.

I wonder what it would be like to kiss someone—not like I did with Ozzy, using my body for barter the way Piper had shown me. And not like I did with Elton, feeding off something that had never belonged to me—never been meant for me. But a kiss simply because I like a boy and he makes my whole body feel tense and waiting and excited and maybe even a tiny bit happy underneath all the layers of sadness and anger.

Again, I can't help but think of Piper and Elton. She loved him. He loved her. It was a secret their bodies chanted when they were in the same room. It always amazed me that nobody else could hear it. But Elton never really trusted her. Trusted their love. He always wondered if she was in his head, making him feel that way.

And even as all these thoughts pinball their way around my skull, Foote and I are drifting toward each other in slow motion. And I understand why Elton didn't trust this. It feels like being in the midst of a spell. A wonderful spell. Something too good to be true. Still, I don't fight it when my eyelids grow heavy and fall. Then, at last, his lips are on mine and we are kissing.

And it is . . . electric. Like sticking your finger into a light socket, which is something I did as a kid. The thing I remember most about it isn't the pain but the surprise. How could something just sitting there in the open have the ability to zap and possibly even kill you?

I pull away, stumbling backward, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. It doesn't help. My lips still tingle. I want to be zapped again.

“I'm sorry,” Foote says, clutching the bike still between us, his knuckles white.

“What's your power?” I ask, my voice shaking. “You're a newcomer; you shouldn't have one, but you do. Maybe you had it before you even came here.”

Foote stares at me, his face draining of color.

“Are you making me like you? Are you making me feel this way?” I screech the words, feeling like a crazy person and not caring.

“No!” He looks appalled. “No. God no. Why would you think that?”

The fight suddenly goes out of me. I stare at my feet, ashamed. Embarrassed. Finally, I force myself to look Foote in the eye and explain.

“My father had the ability to make anyone love or hate him. He made everyone love him. Everyone except me. He touched people's hearts. Piper and I mess with their heads. Growing up, I never knew what anyone truly thought or felt or believed. Myself included. There was always this doubt.”

I watch as Foote's face changes from being hard and angry to confused and full of pity. And then I look away, focusing on the bike. I grab hold of the handlebars, pulling it from Foote.

“I'll take it from here,” I tell Foote, already pushing the bike. “I think I need some time alone.”

“Okay.”

I hear Foote's voice behind me, but only barely because my feet are pounding against the ground, and I let gravity propel me down the hill.

I don't go home right away. Instead, I walk back to the water and watch the waves until they swallow the sun.

When I finally head home, I expect the house to be dark and quiet. Instead, Wills and Mom are both sitting in the main room. They jump to their feet when I walk in.

“Skylar, thank goodness,” Mom says.

It is like the night when we found out Dad was dead. Mom had waited up for me then too.

“What happened?” I ask, knowing it can be nothing good.

Mom's hands twist together and she cracks her knuckles. “Well—”

Wills breaks in. “Piper is home. She came this afternoon. We played in the backyard.”

I stare at Mom, waiting for her to shush Wills, to say he's confused. Instead she just shrugs. “She said she escaped. She said you would understand. We were waiting for you to come home, but she was so tired. I took her to Piper's room. She got into bed and fell asleep right away.”

“It can't be,” I say, even as my heart pounds like crazy and everything else in me goes still, concentrating on wishing that this might possibly be true.

“Well . . .” Mom sighs. “I'm not sure. At first I didn't think so, but she seems so certain and familiar in so many ways. You should go up and see her—well, see all of them and let me know if you think one of them might be Piper. And if you do, well then, she probably is.”

“One of them?” I ask.

“It's hard to explain. They came together, but they act like one person and call themselves Piper. Singular.” Mom shrugs again. “It's hard to separate them in my mind. It's almost like they truly are one and the same person.”

“One and the same,” I whisper to myself, not quite able to believe it.

“I thought this might be what you've been waiting for.” Mom smiles uncertainly as if she's given me a gift but is uncertain whether or not I like it.

I stare at her, wondering when exactly she went off the deep end. How can she not know Piper? How can there be any doubt? I don't question her, though, because the idea that Piper may be only a few feet away, that she may be home, has me running up the stairs and down the hall until I reach her door. It is closed. I hesitate, feeling sick, wanting so badly for her to be there.

Then slowly, slowly, I ease the door open. The room is dark, but a wedge of light from the hall falls across the bed, illuminating the face of the girl sleeping there. A part of me is certain it will be LuAnn. But the hair across the pillow is the same dark auburn brown as Piper's. My heart leaps, and I rush forward to embrace my sister.

“Piper!” I cry.

The girl wakes up and rolls toward me, her eyes wide and scared and blank. She whimpers.

This is not Piper. This is not even a good imitation.

“Sky?” she asks in a high and whiny voice that is nothing like Piper's slightly husky one.

And then three other girls pop up from where they've been camped out on the floor. “Pollywog!” They greet me with bright smiles.

The one in the middle is LuAnn, but the others I can't immediately place.

“No,” I respond shortly, and then I turn and walk out of the room, slamming the door behind me.

FLASHDANCE . . . WHAT A FEELING

Eight Years Ago

PIPER, WE TALK ABOUT ALL THE FOURTH YEARS AND
the smaller years in between except for one. We never talk about eight years ago. The year of the lightning.

At the time it seemed like just another fourth year. Another close call. But now it seems like something else. It seems like the lightning left a dark line in our lives. Everything before that line was our lives as I'd always known them. After the lightning was when everything started to change. You changed. I couldn't see it then, but now it's so clear. After that day, you started trying to outrun the train and began coming up with all the crazy plans. Everything I loved about you was more intense. And the things I hated were that way too.

So, the year of the lightning. That's what everyone calls it even though it wasn't really lightning. It didn't come from the sky. There was no thunder or zigzag flash cutting through dark clouds.

Do you remember, Piper, when we first saw it? We were walking home from school and suddenly we saw these balls of light dancing in the trees.

“Fairies!” I said, reaching my arms out toward them.

You pulled me back. “Don't be stupid,” you said.

I barely even heard you, because the fairies were laughing and singing, inviting me to come and play. I jerked away from you, and the handful of my jacket slipped easily from your grasp. You must not have been holding on that tightly; you must have thought that your harsh words would be enough to check me. And on any other day they would've—but not this one. Fourth-year magic was even more powerful than you.

As I ran toward them, the balls of light bounced away. Not far—just enough to keep out of my reach, just enough to keep me chasing them. You tackled me at some point. And we rolled in the dirt, scuffling, as the golden balls danced above our heads. Finally, you were on top of me, pinning my arms to keep me from hitting you.

“Look at those stupid things. Just look at them,” you demanded. “Can't you see they're . . .”

Your face changed then, from anger to wonder. Releasing my hands, you grinned down at me. “Oh, Sky. They're fairies.”

Then we were both chasing after them. Faster and stronger and getting that much closer to finally catching them because we were together.

The balls of light took us back toward school to the marsh that had finally been drained and filled after Eddie Sit's giant mosquitoes had sprung from there the year before. There was talk of it being made into a football field, but in the meantime, a giant fence surrounded it. LuAnn was in the middle of the field, and the balls of light surrounded her. More of the balls kept arriving from every direction. And all of them were followed by two or three young people like us.

You swung yourself up and over the fence in one graceful move. I can still see that when I close my eyes. Even while enthralled by the fairies, I stopped for a moment and stared at you, amazed. The fairies raced ahead with you, and I scrambled over the fence, not wanting to be left behind. As I tried to fling myself over, not caring if I fell into the muck on the other side, my jacket zipper caught on the fence, holding me there.

“Piper, help!” I cried. “Wait for me!”

You didn't turn. I don't think you heard me. The ball of light was so close to you then, and you lunged forward and finally grabbed it.

It exploded in your arms, sending streaks of blue light that branched out toward all the other balls of light, exploding them one after another. Then there was a final blast of light and I blinked and the world went black.

Actually, I had only passed out. Before I did, though, there was one thing that I saw. Later I told myself it was just my imagination. Now I wonder.

When that ball of light exploded, you disappeared, Piper. Like it had swallowed you whole.

But when I woke up, you were there again. Not a scratch on you. Everyone else who was as close as you died. But you didn't.

Piper, if you disappeared—where did you go? And how did you come back?

Were those balls of light truly fairies? Did they make you one of their own? Is that what changed you, Piper?

I wish I'd asked before. I wish I hadn't been too afraid of your answer.