Solitary: A Novel (24 page)

One is an iPod, the latest model, a lot thinner than mine. It needs charging. Then I find a pen-sized flash drive.

Mom calls me just then, and I stick the flash drive back where I found it and put the bag underneath a few other empty bags.

I close the closet door, wondering what happened to Uncle Robert.

Wondering if I should tell Mom.

For now, I decide to stay quiet.

There's another note inside my locker just like the last one, and it's taped on all four sides so it's impossible to slip off. I stare at the students passing me as I tear it off and save it for first period.

I make sure the letter is easy to access as Algebra 2 starts. I still don't understand how we're supposed to think about numbers and calculations this early in the morning. It's just not right.

The letter is just like before, typed and printed from a computer.

Chris:

The best thing you can do right now is mind your

business and stay out of trouble.

Don't be noticed.

People are watching you.

Go under the radar and go with the flow.

And above everything else: Stay away from Pastor

Jeremiah Marsh.

A friend

I look around to see if anybody is watching me. There's an occasional obnoxious glance, but nothing suspicious.

Who's watching me? And why does this friend" not reveal himself

I can't wait to talk to Jocelyn.

I wonder how she will act today.

I want to tell her what I found yesterday in the cabin.

One thing I know. I can trust her.

It's nice knowing that someone else is there.

This is a first.

I've always felt like I was on my own. Dad used to say that God watches over us and loves us, but I don't buy that. The more I think about it, I don't understand how He can love us, not in this sort of world. And I don't want Him watching over me.

But I want Jocelyn watching over me.

My dad wouldn't like those thoughts, but Mom would agree.

Wholeheartedly.

I like the way Jocelyn watches me when I sneak looks back at her.

The way she waits for me leaving the classroom.

The way she slowly strolls on the way to our next period.

I like the way I feel when I am near her. The way I feel when I casually say "see you later."

I like the small smiles she gives during lunch as we listen to Poe and Rachel.

I like knowing that she knows. That she gets it, that she gets me.

I like everything about her and everything about this, and I know that I'm falling and I like that she knows this too.

I don't want school to end because I don't want to be away from her.

When she offers me a ride home, I like that even better.

This sort of thing goes on the next few days. Uneventful days. No more notes. No headbangers looking out for me.

I'm doing what the note said.

Staying under the radar.

Everyone's radar except hers.

The moments screech by when she's away, then evaporate when she's near.

I'm not in this place but somewhere else. I'm not sixteen but much older. I'm not Chris Buckley but someone better, better in a thousand ways.

I like all of this and feel like something has unwedged itself. I like all of this but don't want to mention that other word, the L word, because I don't get it. I don't think I know what that is. Maybe that's what I'm sliding into, but I don't think I'm there quite yet.

Am I?

"I shouldn't be doing this," Jocelyn says over and over.

"Doing what?"

But I know.

I'm not the only one sliding and falling.

She's slipping with me, holding my hand as we go.

Things are looking up.

Guess that means I finally found the rope leading up and out of this dark well I've been stuck in.

Guess that means I've finally seen the light.

It starts on Thursday afternoon, when I come home to a surprise. Not Mom sleeping in the fireplace or something bizarre like that.

No, this is a good surprise.

"I got something for you," she tells me.

Then she hands me a remote.

It doesn't look like the remote for our television.

I glance over and see the box on top of the TV.

"They put up a dish. So we now have ten thousand channels to choose from. We'll eventually upgrade the TV."

"That's awesome, Mom."

"And something else."

I wait, hoping.

Hoping to finally become a real teen again and have connection with the real world.

"We have the Internet."

I really want to hug her.

I really do.

"That's great," I say, resisting the urge to say finally.

I can tell that there's only one reason we got both services.

She's looking at the computer right now and beaming.

My laptop is a year old and connects easily. I spend the night online, looking at an old email account and looking at my completely blank Facebook page. I'm not one of those who suddenly went gangbusters with all the social networks out there. I tried them out, then quickly got bored knowing so much about people I didn't even know or want to know. I haven't missed them.

Some of the reminders are there. Some posts from friends, some photos with me tagged in them.

Reminders.

Its easier letting go when you're not plugged in, not dialed in to the Matrix.

But there are reasons why I've wanted the Internet.

The first thing I do is create a Gmail account under a made-up name with the password I always use for everything.

Torrent 101

The last name of one of my favorite musicians along with the trusty 101.

Not totally secret, but then again who's going to bother breaking into something that has nothing to check out?

I find the address that I wrote down in my notebook when she gave it to me.

Then I send Jocelyn a quick note.

HEY-GUESS WHO HAS EMAIL?

CHRIS.

Short and subtle.

No reason to bombard her with some endless rant.

I wouldn't like that if I got one from someone.

Well, from Jocelyn I'd be okay with it.

I search Facebook and other sites for her, but nothing comes up.

This is how you can kill time. Searching for random people, seeing random pics, and scanning meaningless information.

It's eleven, and I haven't really gotten any homework done nor have I heard from Jocelyn.

Guess I haven't really been missing that much.

Mom knocks on my door, then opens it slightly.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I say. "Just going online and seeing how the old gang is."

She comes into my room and sits on the edge of my bed across from where I sit at my desk.

"Do you miss the old gang?"

"Yeah. In some ways."

"I appreciate how you've handled things."

"Sure."

"I really do."

She's got that tone and that look. It makes me nervous. I'm afraid she's going to say something too deep, too meaningful, too vulnerable.

I never know how to respond.

So I say nothing.

"Find out anything new and exciting?"

"Brady went to the Bahamas with his parents."

"That's not new," Mom says.

"Or exciting."

She's about to say something, I know it. I can see it.

I can feel it.

I fiddle around with my laptop.

"Well, I'm glad we finally got you connected again."

"I appreciate it, Mom."

"Just don't stay up too late, okay?"

"Okay."

She leaves, and I feel a bit guilty for not talking longer.

I know she probably feels as lonely as I do.

Probably even more so.

I hear the pong of an incoming message, a sound I haven't heard in some time.

She's emailing me back.

I stare at the screen, then feel an invisible hand pound against my chest as I read the words.

CHRIS:

YOU'RE NOT WELCOME HERE.

YOU NEED TO GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM.

YOU NEED TO STOP SNIFFING AROUND LIKE A MANGY DOG.

THIS IS NOT A PLACE YOU NEED TO BE CURIOUS ABOUT.

AND SHE IS NOT SOMEONE YOU NEED TO INTERESTED IN.

YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

WE WON'T KEEP WARNING YOU.

I look at the message, but there's no sender information.

Nothing.

There's no name, no info at the bottom of the email.

I try resending and replying and playing around with it, but there's nothing I can do to see who sent it.

I breathe in.

Its gotta be a taunt from Gus. Maybe he's got some high-tech computer thing that knows I'm online and can see my info.

I'm not a computer genius, but I know that's highly unlikely.

I reread the email, then turn off my computer.

I suddenly wish I wasn't connected.

The words haunt me when I eventually turn off the lights and try to go to sleep.

Try being the key word.

On Friday Jocelyn isn't around. I find Poe and Rachel and ask if they know what's up, and they say she's probably sick. That's all.

I don't sit with them at lunch. The vibe and mood are different when Jocelyn's not there. Instead I hang out with Newt. He continues to fill me in on the school and the students. He knows a lot.

I wish I had my cell. It's bad, I know. I just got Internet, and now I want a phone. No way that's going to happen anytime soon.

I wish I could call or text Jocelyn to see how she's doing.

I worry that something's wrong-something major. That she's somehow in danger.

I think of last Friday and how she stole away with me.

I've continued to think about that night every other moment of every other hour since.

Now she's gone? I can't even explore the possibility of doing something with her tonight?

I try to figure out a way to see her.

The first thing I do is borrow Newt's cell phone and tell my mom that I'll be hanging out with friends tonight.

I promise her I won't be too late.

Now I just have to figure out a way to get in contact with Jocelyn.

Either over the phone.

Or in person.

Before the last period, I run into Ray.

"Hey, man-haven't seen much of you this week-how's it going-missed you last Sunday."

He talks in short bursts, not sentences, like shotgun blasts of thoughts.

"Yeah, maybe it'll work out this Sunday."

"Let me know-I can pick you up if you need me to-should be a good one-what's happening this weekend?"

I suddenly get an idea.

"You know where Jocelyn lives?"

"Of course," he says.

The group he was walking with moves on down the hall. He's not so manic now.

"Does she live far away?"

"She's still in Solitary. Not far. Fifteen minutes, maybe less."

"Could you do me a big favor?"

"Most people I'd say no to, but I like you," Ray says. "What do you need?"

"Just a ride."

"To Jocelyn's place?"

"Yeah."

Ray laughs. "You sure you want to go there?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

He shakes his head, like I'm asking him to push me off a cliff. "No problem," he says. "Meet me in the parking lot at the end of the day. I'll try not to run late."