Don't You Wish (33 page)

I try to speak, but everything is tingling, sparkling, prickly heat. My arms and legs are heavy. My head feels so light, it’s as if I’m floating on air.

I can see Charlie, he’s in front of me, his whole being radiant and light. Everything else has disappeared; the world
is dark and airless, and all I can see or feel or experience is Charlie.

I cling to his hand, though, electricity zapping through both of us.

He’s breaking up, his color fading, his light dimming.

“Charlie! Don’t forget me!”

He’s disappearing and so am I.

“I won’t, Annie. One-four-three! I love—”

The world goes completely dark. All I can hear is a weird noise. A loud, deep rumble right in my ear.

Is that the wind? Is that a motor? Thunder? Or is it …

With every ounce of strength I can muster, I open my eyes to come eyeball to eyeball with a boy who is burping in my face.

“Theo!” I try to scream, but it comes out almost as a growl.

“Sorry, but Mom told me I had to wake you up, Annie. It’s almost seven-thirty and the bus’ll be here in half an hour.”

Mom. The bus.
Annie
. Is this possible?

“And I gotta tell you.” He lowers his voice and gets closer, killing me with his peanut butter breath. “Dad and Mom are barely talking. It’s actually worse than yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Oh, this is too good to be true. I did it.
We
did it. Back to the right world, the right time. “What about Charlie?”

Theo backs up and looks at me like I’ve grown another head. “Who’s Charlie?” he asks. “Does Mom have, like, a boyfriend or something?”

“What?”

He almost falls onto my bed. “I heard them talking about some guy, and I heard her say she loved him.”

I throw the covers back and sit up, vaguely aware of the SpongeBob sleep pants that I missed while I was in the other universe. And my room. My tiny, crowded, not-very-glamorous room. It looks wonderful. Even my brother looks … I almost pull him to me to kiss him, but common sense rules the day. “You misunderstood, I’m sure. I’ll go talk to her.”

I barely look around, heading right out to the hall toward the kitchen, where I hear water running. “Mom?”

She turns from the sink, her eyes puffy. But it’s her. My mom with the little wrinkle between her brow and a few extra pounds and home-colored hair.

“Oh, God, Mom.” I can’t help it, I just throw my arms around her. “You can’t let him do this to you.”

“Daddy didn’t—”

“Jim Monroe.”

She freezes a few seconds, then inches away from me. “This isn’t about him.”

“Yes, it is. It’s about you having second thoughts and wondering about what you did and why you did it.” I grip her shoulders, the conviction of what I know practically shaking me. “You would never have been happy with him.”

“Annie, I—”

“Listen to me. You wouldn’t have. He made you feel inadequate and … and imperfect.”

She almost shrugs, unable to disagree.

“And Dad makes you feel …” I squeeze tighter to make my point. “Flawless. Flawless on the inside, and, Mom, that is what really matters.”

“But, Annie, you don’t know—”

“I know this, Mom,” I insist. “Dad loves you for who you are. And, really, Mom, that is worth a billion dollars.”

She blinks, and one last tear falls.

“You’re wrong, Annie.” At the sound of my dad’s voice, I turn to see him in the door that leads to the basement, an empty box in his hand. “It’s not worth a billion dollars,” he says. “Because you can’t put a price on how I feel about your mother. It’s priceless.”

Behind me, Mom sniffs again.

“And everything else in this house is worthless.” He raises the box. “I’m cleaning up today. Everything. No more Nutter Clutter. I’ll do anything …” His gaze shifts over my shoulder and settles on my mother. “Anything to keep your mother happy. She is the most beautiful, wonderful, exquisite creature in the world, and I don’t know how I won her, but I am not about to lose her.”

“Oh, Mel.” Mom sweeps by me, arms outstretched as she reaches for Dad. He pulls her into a warm hug, dropping the box so he can use both arms.

“One-four-three, honey,” he whispers into her hair. “One-four-three.”

I can’t even swallow the lump in my throat, it’s so big. And so is the hole in my heart. Whatever universe Charlie has landed in, I hope someday he finds someone to love like that.

Theo burps from the hall, and Watson comes lumbering in to howl for bacon. The Nutter chaos reigns again. Then Mom jumps out of Dad’s arms and hollers, “Oh, my God, Annie. The bus is going to be here in ten minutes.”

“I’ll drive her to school,” Dad says. “Annie hates to ride that stupid bus.”

I shake my head. “Lizzie’s expecting me,” I say, heading down the hall. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

“When did she get so grown-up?” I hear Mom ask.

I pause to listen to Dad’s answer. “It’s like it happened overnight.”

Well, not exactly.

Lizzie, freckled and grinning from ear to ear, is waiting in our usual seat when I climb up. One glance to the back tells me why she’s smiling. Shane Matthews is already on the bus, sitting with some boys, already acting stupid.

“Please, Zie, don’t make me smack you. We hate him, remember?” I know, a funny thing to say to your BFF when you’ve been apart so long, but technically I just saw her last night when she had a sleepover with Nickel-ass in another universe.

“That’s not why I’m smiling,” she says.

“Oh, you’re just happy to see me?” I’ve already decided I can’t tell her the truth. Not with my landing back here the next day; no time has passed for her, yet. She’ll think I had a weird dream. If I relegate the past few weeks in a parallel universe to some kind of
Wizard of Oz
dream state, it’ll mean I dreamed up Charlie, and I want to believe that somewhere he exists. I have to believe that.

“Didn’t your dad tell you?” she asks.

“My dad? Uh, things were a little crazy at my house last night. What’s up?”

She gives a little clap of joy. “He and your mom set my mom up on a blind date with his friend from Process Engineering and they went out last night.”

“Really?”

“Ohmigod, Annie, he’s soooo nice.” Lizzie squeals a little. “This could be the one.”

“The universe has a way of making things work out,” I say, feeling worldly and wise. And really glad that Lizzie might get her engineer dad in this world, too. “Anything else happen while I was … Last night?”

Lizzie gives me a sympathetic look. “Obviously you didn’t go on Facebook. Nickel-ass had to brag about her stupid dare, and Shane …” She shifts her eyes over her shoulder. “He’s dead to me for what he did to you, Annie. I don’t care if he’s the hottest thing that ever walked. He’s a tool.”

“Totally.” I brace myself as the bus turns the corner and heads up a hill to the stop where Courtney and company get on. More tools on the way. But now they can’t bother me.

“Maybe she got a ride today,” Lizzie says, as though she can read my mind.

I shrug. “Couldn’t care less. She doesn’t affect me.”

“
Riiiight
.” Lizzie drags the word out with plenty of disbelief.

“I mean it. You don’t know what goes on behind closed doors. She might be miserable inside because her family’s a wreck or she can’t trust her friends. You just don’t know.”

Lizzie draws back, ready to joke. Then her face falls. “Wow, that Shane thing really got to you, didn’t it?”

“No. Well, maybe.” I’m going to need an excuse for my new philosophies, and if Shane Matthews provides it, then he’ll be good for something.

As the bus stops, I don’t look out the window, but I can hear Courtney’s chatter as the doors open and she flounces up the stairs, pausing right in front of me to turn to one of her handmaidens behind her.

“Oh, my
gawd
, Miranda. Did you see? I must have that. Must. Have. That.”

The girl behind her gives a gentle push. “Get in line.”

Still laughing, the two of them head to the back, and I duck before any bags hit me.

“Uh, excuse me.” A low voice comes from the sidewalk, pulling Geraldine’s attention.

“Are you the new kid?” the bus driver demands. “You gotta have your paperwork, son. Signed by the dean, or I can’t take you on this bus.”

Lizzie leans toward the window to see who’s talking, since our view is blocked.

“Wow. Who’s that?” she asks.

“I have the paperwork, ma’am, but the problem is—”

“No problems, just solutions.” Geraldine extends her meaty hand. “Paperwork.”

Slowly, a dark head rises from behind the metal plate, and a male hand wraps around the pole in front of me. I stared at the hand for a second, at the lean but masculine fingers. Fingers that look … strong but gentle.

The first little flutter of butterfly wings tickles my tummy.

As he steps up, the whole bus hushes, and with good reason. He lets go of the pole to brush thick hair off his forehead, revealing dark eyes under a thick brow, a strong jaw, and just enough stubble that he has to be a senior.

Broad shoulders clad in a loose orange and teal football
jersey rise and fall in a frustrated sigh that is tempered with a quick smile at Geraldine.

“I have a problem, though.”

“I told you I don’t want your problems. I want your paperwork.”

I can’t breathe. Can’t move. Can’t think a single thought that makes any sense whatsoever. Because he looks so much like …

“Ashton Kutcher.” Lizzie whispers the words under her breath. “Only, you know, seventeen.”

“Can you just wait a minute?” he asks Geraldine. “My sister is coming and …” He bites his lip and glances through the bus windows. “It might take her a while.”

His sister. I wrap my fingers around the backpack on my lap, clutching something, anything, to keep from reaching out to him.

“Well, where the hell is she?” Geraldine demands, already shifting her big old bus into gear. “First thing you learn on my bus, Mr. Ned the New Guy, is that we run on time. No waiting for late sisters, no excuses.”

“But she’s on wheels.”

“Well, that should make her faster,” Geraldine says, flicking her wrist at him. “Get off and get yourself to school.”

“Wait!” The word pops out of my mouth as I almost jump out of my seat, and he turns to me, giving me the first full-on look at his face, and oh, heaven help me, I know this boy.

I
love
this boy.

“Charlie.”

His smile falters a little. “It’s Chase, actually. I’m new here.”

Not to me. “And your sister?” I ask, having already shoved my backpack half onto Lizzie’s lap, ignoring her wide-eyed stare of pure incredulity.

“She’s new, too, but she’s—”

“I know, I know.” I stand up, knowing that if I’m not on the bus, Geraldine won’t go. But if he gets off to get his sister, the bus driver will take off and strand him. I know what I have to do for him. “I’ll go get her. I can help her.”

As I stand, I come face to face with the new boy, because he’s still halfway on the lower bus step.

“She’ll be okay,” he says, his voice so blissfully familiar. Our eyes meet, and it takes everything I’ve got not to kiss him. He looks different, of course, but not enough to fool me.

I’d recognize Charlie Zelinsky in any universe.

“Geraldine will wait for me,” I whisper, nodding toward the bus driver.

“Then so will I,” he says.

I almost melt right into his arms. “I’ll go …” If I can walk. “I’ll get Missy.”

He laughs softly. “That’s funny. I call her that sometimes. Her name’s Malina, and honestly, she doesn’t need help.”

From the aisle, a distinct throaty (and totally fake) laugh trills through the whole bus. Of course, Courtney has zeroed in on Charlie. “Yes, you go find the missing girl,” she instructs me, like I’m one of her handmaidens. Then, she plugs in a thousand-watt smile and points directly at Charlie. “Chase, is it? Why don’t you come and meet your new friends in the back?”

“Not without paperwork,” he says with a teasing smile directed at me.

Without responding, I slip by him to get Missy, aware of the electrical charge that zaps me as my fingers accidentally graze his on the way down the bus steps.

“Thanks,” he says softly, like air on my hair as I pass. “I’ll handle the driver.”

I leap onto the sidewalk, looking left and right, bracing myself for the elfin girl in a wheelchair. Her mother is probably pushing her, which is why Charlie had to run to catch the bus. It all makes sense.

Now I just have to find—

“Cowabunga! Hold that bus!”

I pivot at the sound, and almost choke at the sight of a slender girl with bright red hair spiked from here to Sunday, crouched down on a skateboard, arms wide for stability, careening down the hill toward the bus stop at top speed.

“Missy!” Tears spring to my eyes as I reach out, not caring what anyone thinks, just so damn overjoyed to see her flying, riding, standing, living her dream.

She hops off the board, kicking it easily to a stop right in front of me, bouncing on skater shoes, about sixteen earrings glinting in the morning light.

“Hey, thanks for holding my ride.” She tucks the board under her arm and reaches into her bag to pull out a hat—a fedora—which she pops over her gelled hair. “I had to kill that hill, and Chase said he’d kill
me
if I was late. Is he furious?”

“No,” I say, laughing and drinking in the glory of whole, healthy, vibrant Missy. “He’s charming the bus driver, who won’t leave without me.”

She gives me an unsure look. “Do I know you?”

You did. You will again, I feel certain. “I’m Annie Nutter.”

“Malina.” She pulls her pack around front, and I instantly see the violin case. More joy pops in my chest.

“You play violin?”

“Badly, but yeah. Think they’ll let me in the school orchestra even though it’s November?”

“Oh, my God, yes. I’ll sponsor you myself.”

“Move it, ladies!” Geraldine’s growl comes rolling out the door.

Missy makes a face. “Ruh-roh. He sounds mad.”

“She. Maybe. Not mad.” I can barely make sentences, I’m so happy. How did this happen? How can the universe be so good to me?