Strange Girl (22 page)

What was that something?

Was that the real Aja?

Clara’s letter suddenly felt heavy in my hand.

I set it aside and turned off the light.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

IT WAS TIME to listen, time to stop trying to fix everything. It went against my nature but maybe my nature had been shaped by the type of psychological scars Clara said Aja could dissolve. Looking back at my childhood, how desperate I’d been to keep my parents together, and then at my teenage years, how I’d struggled at every step to help my friends even when they hadn’t asked for my help, I had to wonder if I was carrying more baggage than I knew.

No wonder Aja had called me a martyr.

I told Janet, Mike, and Dale that our new policy with Aja was “hands off.” We wouldn’t stand around her at break and lunch like security guards. Whoever wanted to talk to her could talk to her. And I told them Aja would go along with our new approach, even though I hadn’t spoken to her about it. She wouldn’t complain because she never complained, about anything.

Also, I shared Clara’s letter with them.

They read it Tuesday morning as we huddled together in the school parking lot. Hopefully, the letter helped explain our new hands-off policy. Mike and Dale seemed to take Clara’s advice to heart but Janet had her doubts.

“Elder isn’t Selva,” Janet said. “And this idea of trusting in the Big Person sounds like nothing but wishful thinking. Let’s not fool ourselves. We drop our wall and Aja’s going to get swarmed. Every kid in school is going to hassle her to fix some sick relative.”

“She’ll learn how to handle them,” I said, not really believing what I was saying.

Janet snorted. “Wait until she tries to heal someone who makes her sick. You’ll drop your ‘Trust in the Big Person’ attitude faster than any of us.”

I smiled. “So you do think that she can heal people?”

“That’s not what I said,” Janet said.

“Aja won’t get sick if she doesn’t get emotionally involved,” Dale said.

“Forget about her healing for a second,” Janet said. “Can Aja control her emotions twenty-four/seven? Because if she can’t—and she couldn’t with Mike—then how is a shy girl who basically grew up in a jungle going to handle throngs of people pestering her all day? It would drive anyone nuts.”

“She can handle it,” Mike said, not a trace of doubt in his voice.

Janet shook Clara’s letter in front of us. “And what’s all this crap about her healing psychological wounds? It’s bad enough people think she can heal sick people. Add this new power to the mix and half the guys and girls in this school won’t be bugging her to cure their aunts and uncles. They’ll be begging Aja to fix their own screwed-up lives.”

“We probably shouldn’t advertise the ‘psyche repair’ thing,” Dale suggested.

“I agree,” I said.

Janet studied me. “Has she ever done a psychic probe on you?”

I acted nonchalant. “She’s said a few insightful things. Nothing that’s rewired my brain. I mean, I’m not walking around thinking my demo is going to get me a million-dollar advance from EMI or Sony Records.”

Shit,
I thought. Talk about a Freudian slip.

I hadn’t shared with the others Clara’s offer to fly me out to LA to audition for Paradise Record’s top executives. They’d never shown any sign of jealousy over the fact that most of Half Life’s fan base raved about how great I was, without mentioning them.

Still, a part of me worried that Clara’s offer might push buttons, particularly when it came to Shelly. She knew she was lacking in the creative department. She knew she couldn’t sing or write songs. But her father was a musician; we practiced at her house. And to top it all off, she was jealous of Aja. Considering all these points, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Shelly insisted on going to LA with me.

Janet was suspicious of my answer, as she had a right to be. I was, after all, lying. “Are you saying Aja hasn’t helped you resolve at least one traumatic event in your life?” she asked.

I shrugged. “You know me. I’ve led a pretty boring life.”

“She’s nailed me on a few things,” Dale said.

Janet jumped on him. “Like what? Give me an example.”

Dale glanced at Mike, who gave him an encouraging pat on the back. Dale cleared his throat before answering. “She knew I was gay and that I’ve been in love with Mike for the last four years. She gave me the strength to acknowledge that and to talk about it openly with Mike.”

Janet was staggered. She wasn’t the only one.

“You’re kidding me!” Janet gasped.

“He’s not,” Mike said.

“But how—” Janet began.

“The rest of it’s none of your business,” Mike interrupted.

Janet backed up a step. “But Mike, you’re not saying that you’re . . .”

“What? Gay? What if I am? What if I’m not? Either way it doesn’t matter. What’s going on between Dale and myself is private.”

Janet shook her head, not because she disagreed with Mike, but because she was still trying to process what they’d just said. The issue between Mike and Dale had been with us for years. To have it suddenly resolved, in the blink of an eye . . . well, let’s just say I was struggling as much as Janet.

Maybe more. Maybe because Dale was saying that Aja had, with a few well-chosen words, made everything between him and his best friend okay. Adding another layer of proof to the possibility that Aja could in fact work miracles.

But whatever the source of Dale and Mike’s new relationship I was happy for them. So was Janet. She hugged both of them together, making it a threesome.

“I’m happy for you guys,” she said. “And I’m proud of you, Dale. It takes a lot of guts to come out of the closet.”

I spoke up. “Hey, maybe Aja can inspire all the gay people on campus to come out. Think about it—Elder High could be the first school in the nation to enjoy total sexual acceptance.”

“You’re forgetting Principal Levitt,” Mike said. “He’d flip. He’d break out the white sheets and torches and organize lynch mobs.”

Dale punched him playfully. “Thanks for making me feel loved and secure at what’s probably the most sensitive moment of my life.”

Mike spoke. “Have no fear, bro. God works through that girl. Whatever Aja’s set in motion—I know she’s got the Man Upstairs looking out for both of us.”

Janet backed off a step and shook her head. “I feel like I’m being dragged kicking and screaming into a cult—the Aja Cult. You know when I first met her all I was worried about were all the hearts she was going to break at Elder High. Now it’s like the four of us are grooming her to be a modern-day Virgin Mary.” Janet poked me in the gut. “No offense to your virility.”

“None taken,” I said. “So it’s settled. Our new marching orders are—we let Aja be Aja. And if CNN or NBC shows up, we’ll deal with it.”

“Heard any more word on Casey Morall’s investigation of the healing Aja did on Lisa Alastair?” Dale asked.

“All I know is Casey’s still in Ohio,” I said. “Nicole texted me this morning.”

“She’s spying for you now?” Dale asked.

“One can only hope,” I said.

• • •

At lunch that afternoon, a few people approached Aja while the rest of us sat on the other side of the courtyard. No one spoke to her long but they all seemed to go away satisfied. I had no idea what they asked and no clue what she told them. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Janet watched uneasily. Mike and Dale looked optimistic.

The next day at lunch Aja was swarmed. A line formed around the courtyard. Someone started handing out numbers. Aja continued to sit on the bench where we’d eaten our first lunch together. She spent roughly two minutes with each person. It was like she was a priest hearing confessions. At least that’s what Janet said.

I quit my job at the hardware store. Business was slow and my boss couldn’t afford me. I did him the favor of not having to fire me. Besides, I hadn’t forgotten that Clara had given me only a month to fly out to LA. Aja had warned me Clara liked to put time limits on tasks to get people moving. I took the deadline seriously and used the extra time to work on my demo.

After going back and forth, I decided to put “Strange Girl” on as a fourth track. To my surprise, Shelly, more than Dale or Mike, helped me with the arrangement. She had a keyboard that could play any instrument that had been invented by man, and she ended up laying down not just a minute of piano that complemented my acoustic guitar, but a string section that came near the end and heightened the emotion of the song. I asked her where she’d been hiding such a far-out composition and she told me Aja had helped her with it.

“How?” I asked. “She doesn’t play an instrument.”

We were in my bedroom. Shelly was sitting on my bed with her keyboard on her lap. I was at my computer, juggling my tracks, and playing with the volume of each one. If the digital age had not come along I would have been toast. I was the sort who polished a song forever. I never got to the point where I felt something was perfect.

My Achilles’ heel was my singing. Because I was so self-conscious about my voice, I had to fight the tendency to drown it out with music. My voice I couldn’t change. But I could control the music. Left to my own devices I’d create the classic “wall of sound” over everything I composed. Probably because walls were oh so easy to hide behind.

“You going to tell me?” I asked when she didn’t answer.

Shelly hesitated. “She told me to ignore my shadow.”

“Huh?”

“That’s what I said, ‘What do you mean?’ Aja said, ‘The one with the stick. Ignore him and he’ll go away.’ ”

“Weird.”

“It wasn’t so weird, not when I thought about it. When my father tutored me as a kid, he always stood behind me, snapping, ‘Practice perfect. Practice perfect.’ He never let me hit a false note. If I did he’d whack my hands with an old violin bow he carried. I was young—it hurt. But you see, he was old-school. He thought he was doing me a favor. He believed any bad habit would get ingrained in my brain and in my fingers. I swear, before I spoke to Aja, I felt a shadow hanging over me every time I sat down at the keyboard.”

“How did she help you let him go?”

Shelly shrugged. “I suppose by telling me that my father was the key. After talking to her for one minute I went away and thought about what she said and felt a huge weight lift. It was then I realized I don’t have to be afraid when I jam with you guys in the garage or when I play alone. I can make all the mistakes I want and no one will hurt me. I went straight home and laid down this track. I knew it would fit perfectly with ‘Strange Girl.’ ” Shelly stopped. “But I don’t want you to use it.”

My reaction to Shelly’s comments was mixed. I was grateful Aja had been able to help her. Was I stunned? No. It was getting to the point where nothing Aja did surprised me. It was kind of a bizarre attitude to have about your girlfriend but I suspected if Aja began building an ark I’d probably start gathering two of every animal while I kept an eye on the weather reports.

Now as far as Shelly and her strings—we had just spent two hours fitting them into my song. They made the song better; I wanted them. Yet I couldn’t use them without her permission so I waved my hand like it was no big deal but inside I was annoyed.

“It’s cool,” I said. “I wouldn’t just hand over a piece of music like that.”

Shelly came over to my desk and put a hand on my shoulder. “I’d give you the strings in a second if I thought they helped. But they don’t—they distract from you. Leave my piano in the background and go with your voice and guitar. Think about it. The song works because the girl you’re singing about is probably going to leave you. You’re alone and you need to sound alone when you sing about her.”

What she said made sense but I couldn’t help teasing her. “You’re just being a greedy bitch,” I said.

Shelly smiled. “Hey, this is the first thing I ever wrote that you wanted to steal. It must be good.”

“It’s brilliant.”

“Not. I know the difference between clever and genius. And you’re the genius.” She leaned over and hugged me. “You need to get your demo out there.”

I told her about Paradise Records’ offer right then. Even though it scared the shit out of me to do it, I felt the urge and just went with it. To my amazement she got all excited and danced around the room. I’d never seen Shelly dance before, not even onstage. She was happy for me and promised she’d keep the audition secret.

But I knew right then I’d have to tell Mike and Dale before the day was over. I’d been a coward not to tell them the instant I’d heard about the audition. We were a band, and although I doubted I could convince Paradise Records to sign the four of us, my friends deserved to know the truth.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

COME FRIDAY THE line leading to Aja on the courtyard had shrunk. By my estimate no more than twenty new people tried to speak to her. Already I was beginning to think we’d made the right decision to stop protecting her. Of course, for me, it was still hard not to worry.

Walking home from school that afternoon I spotted a beautiful, black woman picking daisies in the park. There weren’t many black people in South Dakota. It was kind of sad—in all of Elder there were only three black families. But what caught my attention was she was picking the daisies in the exact spot Aja had been gathering them when I’d first seen her.

As I watched, the woman carried her flowers to a nearby bench and sat down in the broiling sun. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. She was far from young yet her age did nothing to dim her regal appearance. Dressed in a stunning blue gown, she looked like a queen from a lost kingdom. She noticed I was staring at her and flashed a smile and raised an exquisite hand and gestured to me:
Come.

Seconds later I was standing beside her, staring down at a deck of tarot cards she’d spread over a white towel she’d covered her half of the bench with. She’d waved me over but the cards held her attention. Without raising her head, she motioned for me to sit beside her.

“Have a seat, Fred,” she said. She had an accent, but I couldn’t place it. It made me wonder where she was from.

I sat. “You know who I am?”