Don't You Wish (27 page)

An expression flickers over his face, a hint of darkness. “I wouldn’t mind going back five years,” he says softly. “But this is about you.”

I know why he wants to go back five years, but don’t know how or what to say. “What about Lizzie?” I ask instead.

“What about her?”

“If I go back, does it take away her chance of having a dad in this universe? ’Cause I can’t do anything to hurt her, not in any universe.”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But going to Pittsburgh might make a difference in the scheme of things.”

“How?”

“You’re messing with the universe.”

“Yeah, well, the universe messed with me.”

Charlie’s hand is still on mine, and he squeezes, pulling me closer. “You know, you might be one of the luckiest people in the world. You get to see both sides and make a choice.”

I feel so close to him, so connected. Have I ever felt like this about anyone before? “Charlie …”

He leans closer, and our faces are inches apart. “I don’t want to complicate your decision,” he whispers.

“You already have.”

He kisses me so softly, it’s like a breeze on my mouth. Then I close my eyes and reach for him, letting him ease me back to the ground. His hands close over my face, holding me as we kiss, my heart beating so hard I can feel all my pulse points throbbing.

This is so different from Ryder, so different from anything
I’ve ever imagined. I just want to lie here forever, holding him, trusting him.

I smell fresh-cut grass, and the scent of something soft and musky that will always remind me of Charlie. Closing my eyes, I wrap my arms around his neck and sink into our kiss, dizzy with the pure bliss of it.

An alarm bell screams so loud, we both jump a foot.

“Oh, my God. What is that?” I ask.

He’s up in an instant. “Something’s wrong with my sister.” He takes off toward the back of the house, and I push up and follow, hustling to keep up as he throws open the back door and charges to the bedroom hallway. On the way, he slaps a white alarm pad on the wall, silencing the screaming buzzer.

“Coming, Missy!”

He sails into a room, barely lit by a night-light. Right behind him, I come to a complete stop when he reaches her bedside. It’s not a regular bed but very high and angled, like a hospital bed.

“Oh, Charlie, Charlie.” She’s sobbing. “I dreamed about the accident again, and it hurts. Everything hurts!”

“Shhh. Don’t cry, Missy.” He reaches over and holds her, and my heart—the one beating with a crush a minute ago—is breaking into a million pieces. “It doesn’t really hurt. It’s just your imagination. It’s just your memory.”

“It hurts,” she cries. “In all the places I can’t feel. I want to forget that day, but I can’t.”

“I know,” he says tenderly. “Neither can I.”

My hand is over my mouth, holding back my own sob of sympathy. I step back into the hall, away from a scene that seems so private that I shouldn’t be here.

“Why did it happen?” she croaks in a husky, broken voice.

“I don’t know, Missy.” His voice is as defeated as hers. “Why does anything happen?”

I back farther away, a tsunami of shame drowning me.

How could I possibly be so selfish? So small? So wrapped up in whether I’m A-list or invisible, rich or poor, pretty or plain?

Melissa Zelinsky can’t
walk
in this universe. And her brother, who loves her so much, is in as much pain as she is. If anyone should get to a better place, it’s them, not me.

Is there any way I can do that for him?

I have one day left at Crap Academy before I leave for Pittsburgh, and two things to accomplish on this last day. I almost skip school completely because, well, no one really cares if I go or not. Jimbo isn’t around, and my mom is living in some condo in Boca.

But I do go, mostly because I need to see Charlie. I haven’t heard a peep—not so much as a text—from Bliss or Jade, but there’s part of me that wants to say goodbye to them. Because what if I do find Mel, and he has a mirror, and I somehow travel through time and space and never come back here? The more I think about going to Pittsburgh, the more I think about not coming back here again. Maybe I’ll just talk to Mel … or maybe lightning will strike twice. I have to be ready for anything.

When I get to school, I don’t see Jade or Bliss outside by the fountain, so I head to their lockers, and on the way cruise by the eleventh-grade girls’ bathroom. I’m just in time to see a few girls hustling out, mumbling unhappily, then sliding distrustful glances at me.

“Your friends probably want you in there,” one says.

“Maybe not,” someone else says. “Ayla’s off the A-list.”

“Yeah, she’s one of us now.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” someone says snarkily.

But Candi Woodward steps out of the pack toward me. “Ayla’s in a class of her own,” she says, giving me a wide smile. “She’s different.”

The compliment warms me. “What did they do, kick you guys out again?”

“They think they own that bathroom,” Candi says wearily.

“The whole school,” another girl says.

Irritation slams me. “They only own it if you give them the power to.”

“Easy for you to say,” one girl whispers from the back. “You don’t know what it’s like to be us.”

“No?” I fire back. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong. And you know what? They have nothing on you but some luck in the gene pool, street smarts on how to work the system, and attitude.”

“So, what are you saying, Ayla? We can be like them and not be invisible?”

“Who wants to be like them?” I challenge. “They’re mean and miserable, and they don’t even trust each other. And you are
not
invisible.”

Candi kind of laughs. “To them, we are.”

“If you were really invisible, then who would treat them like royalty? Believe me, they need you to be very visible. Without you, they’d be center stage with no extras, no audience, and no props.”

They kind of look at each other and laugh. “Right, Ayla.”

“I mean it. If you didn’t stare at them and part the hallways to let them by, they’d notice in a hurry, believe me.”

“Maybe we should try it.”

“Yeah!” a dark-haired girl says as she comes forward. “Let’s treat them like
they’re
invisible.”

I shake my head, putting my hand out to stop her. “Then you’re stooping to their level. Let’s just take back our bathroom and not give them any power.”

A couple move to the door. “Like the storming of the Bastille.”

I laugh. “Without the guillotine.”

They gather round me, and I realize I’m the de facto leader, which is fine with me. “You ready to go in?” I ask.

“Ayla,” Candi says, holding me back, “are you sure? If you do this, you lose your queen bee crown for sure and certain.”

“I don’t want it.” I link my arm with Candi’s, feeling the first flicker of
true
friendship with another girl since I got here.

Together, we give the door a solid push, and the group of seven or eight follow, all of them laughing and whispering nervously.

Jade’s hand shoots out of the last stall. “What part of ‘You need to leave’ don’t you understand, Flute Fly?”

“I don’t understand anything about you, Jade.”

At the sound of my voice, Jade slowly steps out, taking in the minimob behind me. “What do you want?” she asks.

“We want to use the bathroom.”

“Find another one,” Bliss calls out from inside the stall. “You made your grave, Ayla, so sleep in it.”

I roll my eyes, but Jade is looking hard at me. “She’s with a bunch of invisibles,” she says under her breath to Bliss.

Finally, the blond head leans out of the stall. “I’m serious, Ayla. We’re not amused by your escape-ades.”

“Oh, my God,” one of the girls behind me says, and laughs. “She means ‘escapades.’ ”

“She’s an idiot,” another whispers.

Bliss’s blue eyes narrow at her. “And you’re ugly.”

“Really?” I demand. “How can you tell? I thought she was invisible.”

There are snickers behind me, but Bliss is slowly stepping out of the stall. When she does, about six small handbags thump to the floor, tags visible.

“Get out of here, Ayla,” she grinds out.

“We’re using the bathroom, Bliss.” I turn to my little posse. “Do what you need to do, girls. We have a few minutes before first period. Nobody owns this place.”

Bliss just stares, and Jade shakes her head. “Why are you doing this, Ayla?” Jade asks.

“Why are you?” I take a few steps closer and glance at the purses, then bend over to pick up a satiny clutch that’s been ruined by water—or worse—on the floor.

“Hey!” Bliss swipes it away, knocking it back to the floor. “You’re not getting any of this.”

“I don’t want your stolen crap,” I say, leaning against the
cool metal of the stall and crossing my arms. “And you don’t need to shoplift to prove you’re cool.”

Jade immediately assumes peacemaker position, stepping between us. “Ayla, you’ve made some really bad decisions lately—including this latest stunt today—and we’re just trying to figure out what to do with you.”

“You don’t have to do anything with me, Jade. Friends don’t think about what to do with their friends! You like them. You support them. You have fun with them.”

Bliss inches closer, still barely at my chin, even with high heels. “You got that right, Ayla. And you totally broke that code. You are acting like a complete tool, hanging out with nerds and geeks, and risking our position at this school so you can get some kind of social services award.”

“That’s not why,” I say softly, a twinge of sympathy for her because I can tell she’s choosing every word very carefully, not wanting to make a mistake and look stupid(er) in front of the very people she claims she can’t see.

“Then, why did you change?” Jade whines. “What brought this on, really?”

I can’t answer, so I shake my head. “I tried to see all this from both sides.” I gesture toward the girls who are in front of the mirror, pretending to comb their hair or put lip gloss on, but listening to every word we say.

“And what’d that do for you?” Bliss challenges. “Make you all happy and whole and … and … 
happy
inside?”

I smile at her. “It made me blissful. And you should try it. You’ll find Bliss.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh my God with the Oprah crap.”

Jade takes my hand. “Come on, Ayla. Just go back to
normal. This …” She nods toward the girls. “This isn’t the natural way of things.”

“That”—I point toward the fallen handbags—“isn’t the natural way of things, either. Why shoplift when you have more money than most of the free world, or torture kids who are already living in hell, or cheat when you’re smart enough not to? Why? Just because you can?”

“Because we’re supposed to,” Bliss says firmly. “That’s our role in this place, and we do it better than anyone else. For that, we get into the best parties, treated like royalty, and respected.”

“Respected?” I throw the word back at her. “Fear is not respect, Bliss.”

“Get out of here, Ayla.” Bliss tries to drag Jade back into the stall. “You don’t belong in our world.”

“I don’t belong in a bathroom stall, that’s for sure.”

The girls at the mirror laugh softly, but I didn’t say it to be funny. Bliss disappears, but Jade stays rooted to her spot, looking at me with sad eyes.

“I can’t fight Bliss on this.”

I shrug. “You have to make your choice. Listen.” I reach for her hand. “I need to say goodbye.”

“You’re leaving?”

“For a while,” I say vaguely. “I’m going to a clinic opening with my dad, and then …”

“You’ll be back on Monday?” Jade actually sounds worried. She leans very close and whispers, “I bet we can work this out.”

“I don’t know. I can’t make any promises about who—er, how—I’ll be when I get back.”

She gives me a weird look, but nothing I haven’t become pretty used to over the past few weeks. “Maybe a little time away will be good for you. Especially with your dad. He always makes you see things the right way.”

The right way. His way. Not
my
way.

“Yeah,” I say, aware that the bell is ringing. “Now I gotta go find Charlie.”

“Box boy?” Bliss chokes.

“His name’s Charlie Zelinsky, Bliss, and he happens to be my boyfriend.”

“Jeez, Ayla.” Jade slips into the stall. “You are too far gone, even for me.”

I turn and catch Candi’s surprised expression in the mirror. She doesn’t look away, though, and I see a glimmer of approval. I leave the stall and get next to her, leaning over to pick up her flute case.

She gives me a tentative smile. “Charlie Zelinsky is your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, he is.”

“I know he gets a lot of grief, but I always thought he was kind of cute.” She tucks a tube of lip gloss into her purse. “You know, kind of in a young Ashton Kutcherish kind of way.”

“Exactly!” I say.

“It’s going to be rough for you, Ayla.” She puts her hand on my shoulder. “He’s an outcast.”

“They’re my specialty. Anyway, it’s going to be way worse for me when I make my next announcement.”

“What?”

“I’m signing up for orchestra.”

Her jaw flaps open. “What do you play?”

“Violin.”

She gives me a squeeze and holds it. “The soul of the orchestra, I always say.”

“So it is.”

I’m still smiling when I head to English lit, but that grin disappears when I see that Charlie’s seat is empty. I don’t know why, but I have a very bad feeling about this.

By Friday morning, I’m a mess. I haven’t heard from Charlie since the night of Jim’s dinner party. He never came to school, he’s not answering his texts or calls, and he hasn’t been on Facebook.

If I had time, I’d go to his house, but Jimbo is on a tear to get to the executive airport and fly to Pittsburgh. He finally notices I’m upset when I climb into the backseat of the limo.

“What’s the matter, Ayla?”

“Nothing,” I assure him, settling into the cool leather of my favorite seat, already used to the family limo.

“You’re not apprehensive about flying, are you?” He glances up to the always clear blue skies. “It’s a good day for flying. I’ll let you take the controls if it’s smooth.”