Salvaged (8 page)

"I haven't been kissed." Her mumbling made her difficult to
understand. "That makes me a freak."

I looked into her tired eyes. "You're not a freak. You're wonderful; now go to sleep."

Her eyes closed, but after a few moments she opened them
again. "Help me stay awake." Her voice trembled. "I'm afraid."

Tears ran down my cheeks, and the speed of my rocking increased as I protectively pulled her closer to me. "You're already asleep. I'm
right here." My voice cracked. "It's gonna be all right."

She was afraid to sleep because she was afraid to dream. It was
similar to an eighties horror movie I'd watched with my parents,
except Attie's nightmares were once real. She'd seen her mother and
best friend die, and she was left to live with the guilt of surviving.
The memory of their pain was torturing her.

Within a few minutes Attie's breathing was rhythmic and gentle. I sat holding her in my arms and crying for what felt like hours.
The last time I cried was the day of Melody's funeral, and it felt
good to let it all out.

Eventually, my legs went numb, so I moved our bodies until we
were lying on the floor.

She slightly came to and looked around. I spoke softly into her
ear. "It's all right. I'm still here."

"Thank you, I don't want to be alone anymore."

"I won't leave you, Charlie. Not until you're ready."

"Poor Riley," she whispered, "that could be a long time."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Attie needed me, and nothing could drag me away.

(Attie)

My eyes opened and immediately closed again. The sun was
bright and my room was full of light. Opening my eyes again, I
looked around until I noticed Riley sitting under the window. He
was reading.

"Riley?" My voice was groggy, so I shook my head to force myself
to wake up. He looked up and grinned at me.

"Hey, Charlie, did you sleep well?"

"Ha, ha, very funny." I moaned.

"You didn't wake up again after the nightmare. You slept
peacefully."

I sat up quickly. "Were you here all night?"

"Yeah." He shrugged his shoulders. "I slept in here on the floor."

I lay back down and covered my eyes with my hands. "Good
grief, I'm so sorry. You didn't need to do that." I peeked back at him
to see if he looked bothered.

He shook his head and gave me a smile. "It was no problem."
His eyes were warm. "Really, it's fine."

"I didn't talk in my sleep and say anything stupid, did I?"

"Nope. Your lips were sealed. Why?" He smirked. "Is there anything I should know?"

Relief filled my body. "No. Nothing that you would find interesting anyway." I rolled over onto my stomach and looked up at him.
"How long have you been awake?"

"A few hours."

"Riley! You did not have to stay." I rolled back over and covered
my face with my pillow. "I'm so sorry I'm such an emotional basket
case.

"It's fine. I know I didn't have to stay; I wanted to. It's no big
deal. Don't lose any sleep over it or anything." His voice sounded like
he was smiling.

I spoke from under my pillow, "Boy, aren't you the jokester this
morning.

"Really, I wouldn't have done it if I didn't want to. Eventually
you'll have to survive without me, but it didn't necessarily have to
start last night."

I rolled back over onto my stomach. "What are you reading?"
I asked. He held up a Seventeen magazine so I could see the cover.
"Oooh, any good?"

"Yeah." He nodded enthusiastically. "As a matter a fact, right now
I'm reading an article called `What Boys are Really Thinking."'

"Oh yes." I nodded. "I read that. It didn't help me figure you out
in anyway."

He let out a carefree laugh that made me feel very at ease. "That's
because I'm a man, not a boy."

"Ali, I should have made the differentiation."

"Well, according to the article, boys are pretty much pigs."

"I hate to tell you this, Riley, but I didn't need an article to figure
that out."

He ran his fingers through his already messy hair. "You agree?
You think boys are pigs?"

"Not all, but most are until they're at least twenty-five or so."

"Oh yeah, where'd you hear that?"

"A pretty reliable source."

I certainly wasn't going to tell him where I'd heard it. After last
night, if I told him I was having nightly conversations with Jesus,
he would have advised his parents to lock me away in an insane
asylum.

"We aren't all pigs, you know."

"Oh no?"

"You can't believe everything you hear, Charlie."

"I'll take that into consideration."

My mind traveled back to my conversation with Anne, and I
wondered if what she said was true. She sounded as if she knew for
sure, but Riley would be the only person that would know. The question was whether or not he would be honest about it.

Sitting in a partial ball, his left leg was tucked underneath him,
and his right was bent up in front of his chest. He shyly hid part of
his face behind his knee.

"How often do you have them?" he asked.

I'd gotten lost in thought. "What, boys?"

He threw his head back and laughed. "No, not boys. Why, do
you have boys often?"

I laughed along with him. "No, not quite," I admitted.

"The nightmares? How often do you have nightmares?" His
shyness escaped as he rested his chin on his knee.

"A lot more than I have boys, I can tell you that."

One of his eyebrows raised and his look became stern. "The
nightmares?"

I shut my eyes. "Pretty much every night."

"What have you done about it before now?"

"What do you mean?"

"If I wouldn't have come in last night, it could've gotten even
worse. Did your dad come in and help you before?"

"Our house in Ithaca had three stories. I slept in the bottom
story, and my dad slept in the top. I don't know if he ever heard
me. I told him about the nightmares, but I don't know that he ever
understood. Sometime I would set my alarm for every hour and a
half. That way I never fell deep enough asleep to dream."

"How can you survive with that little sleep? Isn't that bad
for you?"

"Look at me, Riley. There are bags under my eyes, and I look
about twenty years older than I actually am. Sometimes I feel like
I'm falling apart. Other times I'm just so drained that I can barely
function. It's been going on for a while now, and my body is becoming accustomed to it ... somewhat."

"You don't look as bad as you think. You hide your exhaustion
well."

I smiled at him. "Well, thank you."

He looked back at me with sadness in his eyes. "Are the dreams
the same or different?"

"Almost always the same. Always of the accident, always of my
mom's face."

"It must be terrible. From what I saw last night, they seem
bad."

"I guess I'm used to it."

"Is it normal? I mean for them to last this long after the
accident?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

His questions kept coming. "Have you seen someone about this?
Like a therapist or counselor or something?"

"No, I just assumed I would grow out of it at some point." That
was a lie. I was actually afraid that they would never go away.

His shoulders slumped and his eyebrows turned down. "You're
sleep deprived, and worse than that, you're tortured on a nightly
basis." His concern was growing. "There's nothing wrong with getting help. I should know; I've gotten plenty. You need to talk to
someone.

"You've seen someone."

"Oh yeah, no big deal. I've done both individual and family
counseling. We started just after Melody died. It helped a lot."

I remained silent. I couldn't believe he admitted that he'd been
to therapy.

"It's not something to be ashamed of or anything. I'd hate to
think about where I'd be without it."

"Yes." I giggled, "You could be a total nut job like me."

His eyes rolled as he shook his head at me. "You aren't a nut job,
Charlie. You're just grieving. I would think that type of thing would
be normal." His voice sounded full of distress, and I appreciated his
concern. Unfortunately, I wasn't sure I agreed with him. I wasn't at
all normal. I was tired and scared, and all I wanted was to wake up
from my never-ending nightmare. I was sad, and I didn't want to be
sad anymore.

We sat quietly for a few minutes before he decided that we
needed to go down and get something to eat.

"Heck, we've already missed breakfast. I don't wanna miss lunch
too." He was up and halfway down the stairs before I even got
untangled from my blanket.

We made our way to the kitchen, and I saw Mr. and Mrs. Bennett sitting at the table deep in conversation. For the first time since
arriving, there was no music coming from the laptop.

When I walked in, they both looked up. Their faces wore the
"concerned parent" expression. I glanced at Riley wondering if they
knew what happened the night before, and as if he could read my
mind, he somberly nodded his head.

"Oh boy," I muttered under my breath.

Mrs. Bennett broke the silence. She was nearly crying. "Attie,
are you all right?"

"Yes." I tried to sound reassuring. "I'm fine. It's just a nightmare,
no big deal. Honestly, they sound worse than they are."

I glanced back at Riley hoping that I would be able to tell
whether or not I was being convincing. The sadness on his face was
a sign that nobody was buying my act.

Mr. Bennett stood and hugged me. "Can we help you, Attiline?
Is there anything we can do to help?"

"Oh no, I'll be fine." At this point I didn't even sound convincing to myself.

"Are you sure?"

I waited a few moments before I replied. "Well, there's one
thing." I bit the corner of my thumbnail and looked up at Mr. Bennett out of the corners of my eyes. This technique always got me
what I wanted from my dad.

"I'll try." He wasn't promising anything without hearing my
request.

"Can you get me off the cheerleading squad?"

"What? Attiline, last month you flew all the way here just to try
out, and practices haven't even started yet. Why would you wanna
up and quit now?"

Everyone's eyes were on me, and I felt completely uncomfortable. He placed his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the
eyes.

"If that's what you want, I'll consider it. But first tell me why.
Why do you wanna quit doing something that you love so much?"

I'd realized he wasn't going to stop the interrogation until I gave
an acceptable answer. After all they were doing for me, I knew that
I needed to be honest. I motioned for everyone to sit down and then
joined them.

"Sadly, you all got a glimpse of what my nights are like-at least
for the time being anyway. I've gotten pretty used to them, but they
tend to terrify anyone within hearing distance." I looked at Riley
apologetically, and he gave me a small smile. "I hoped that being
back here would somehow make them go away, but that clearly
didn't happen."

Noticing the Bennetts' growing concern, I continued with my
reasoning.

"I don't think that spending six nights away would be a good
idea right now, and cheer camp is less than a week away. I wouldn't get much sleep, and there's a chance that none of my roommates
would either."

Mr. and Mrs. Bennett were nodding as I spoke, so I must have
been making sense.

"Not to mention, it's embarrassing," I admitted.

Mr. Bennett spoke first. "I understand that. But wouldn't it be
more logical to just get out of cheer camp but stay on the team?"

"It wouldn't be right, Mr. Bennett. If it is a requirement that the
team attend camp, then I should either attend or no longer be on
the team. It's only fair. Plus, for totally selfish reasons, the last thing
I need is another reason for people to dislike me. Preferential treatment doesn't bode well in high school."

Riley didn't agree with me. "Screw what other people think."

"Riley Bennett," Mrs. Bennett scolded. "You cut that talk out
right now."

He apologized to his mother and then turned back to me. "Who
cares what anyone else thinks? Missing camp is no big deal." He
grabbed my elbow to give it a slight squeeze. "Stay on the team."

"I care what people think. I'm already an outsider. I'm already
the freak."

"Attie." Now Mrs. Bennett sounded angry with me. "You stop
talking like that. Nobody thinks you're a freak. Why would they?"

Yanking my elbow away from Riley, I sat back in my chair and
crossed my arms across my stomach. They would never understand.

"Never mind." My jaw grew tight.

Riley leaned toward me and gently placed his hand on my arm.
"Who cares?"

My voice rose as I spoke. "That's easy for you to say, Riley."

He removed his hand from my arm and sat upright. "Whaddya
mean?"

"Good grief, you're the most popular boy in school. You're smart,
athletic, good looking... "