The Fallen (14 page)

Amy stared at her a long moment, like a museum specimen she was trying to analyze. “What's your problem lately?”

“My
problem?” Chloe felt an itchiness at her fingertips as her temper rose; she shrugged and twiddled her hands until it went away.
Clawing my friend's face off.
That's
a good way to end a fight. Especially with the whole school watching.
“What about
yesterday?
When I texted you about lunch and you totally blew me off?”

“I never got your message,” Amy prompdy denied. But there was a tiny hint of doubt in her voice.

“Check your mail,” Chloe goaded. “Come on. Check it”

Making every movement flamboyant and impatient like she didn't have time for this sort of nonsense, Amy dramatically pulled out her phone and hit the buttons. “You see? There's no—
oh.”
Her face fell. “That.”

“‘That'? So you did get it!”

“I was going to get back to you,” Amy said carelessly. “Paul and I were busy. We were—”

“‘Paul and I were busy'? What were you doing? Working on the newspaper or—hm, let me think—sucking face?”

“You—”

“‘You and Paul' are
always
doing something. It's like the two of you are one unit and you've totally forgotten everything else.”

“OA, so that's it,” Amy said, nodding. “You're jealous and lonely—is that why you're whoring around with dumbasses like Alyec?”

There was that word again.
Sheesh, one of my “boyfriends” won't even kiss me.
Chloe opened her mouth to
really
let Amy have it.

But as she thought about the other aspects of her life— her claws, her mysterious nighttime friend, Brian—she realized how ridiculous this argument was. There were a lot more important things going on, and Amy had as good as abandoned her the day of her fall. This was
not
worth it.

“Whatever. There's my bus.” She turned and walked away, leaving Amy openmouthed and speechless.

•   •   •

She had to talk to someone about it.

Chloe had repeatedly backed down from arguments for the sake of their friendship—and Amy still treated her like the bad guy. She couldn't even see how she was acting!
I'd love to tell you what's going on in my life,
Chloe thought bitterly,
but you really don't seem that interested.

Alyec would probably tell her to shrug it off, that it wasn't important. She wanted to bitch and to brood, though; she didn't
want
to cheer up and stop thinking about it. She wanted to figure it out.

Chloe took out her phone and dialed Brian. If she only did it once, she figured, she could always tell her mom it was someone she needed to get homework from or a study group partner or something.

“It's Brian.” His answer was so short and direct, Chloe almost didn't recognize his voice at first. It was very professional sounding—curt, but not self-important.

“Wow, did I just reach Enron or something?”

“Oh, Chloe! No …” He laughed, sounding more like himself. “I'm just waiting for callbacks from
everyone
—the zoo, the parks department, animal rescue— even the pound.”

“Bad economy,” Chloe said, the way she had heard her mother and her mother's friends talk about it.

“Ain't that the truth.” He sighed. “So you, uh, want that pattern, right?”

Chloe had completely forgotten about it. “No,” she said darkly, “I don't think I'll be needing that anymore.”

“Oh.” He sounded confused—but was that also
relief
in his voice?

“But I'd still like to see you again.”

“Yeah?” he asked cautiously.

“Yeah.” She laughed. “You want to go somewhere tonight?”

“Tonight?” There was a pause, like he was looking at his watch or a calendar or something. “Uh, tonight's not
great.
… I have to send out a bunch more letters and resumes and applications and stuff. I wanted to get them in the mail tomorrow.”

Chloe's ears prickled. There was something odd about the way he was talking, strange pauses—whether it was her new, keen senses or just intuition, she had a feeling he was lying to her.
What's going on with him? He sounds like he's interested, but he keeps sort of putting me off.

And then it occurred to her.

“You have a girlfriend, don't you?”

“What?”

“Tell me the truth. You have a girlfriend.”

“No! I
have no girlfriend”
he said with exasperation. “I haven't had one in
months.
Why?”

“You just sound like… I don't know … grudging about the whole thing.”

He laughed softly. “Chloe… I don't mean to be. I'm just kind of anal and obsessive when it comes to setting a goal and a schedule for myself. I'm like a rat, you know? Can't get food until send out one more letter.”

“Oh.” Chloe looked around in embarrassment, but no one on the bus was listening. “I'm sorry. I've had a weird day. My best friend Amy and I just had this huge fight—” Something finally broke inside her. Chloe swallowed, trying to hold back the tears that were beginning. She turned her face into the window and rubbed her eyes with her knuckle, trying to bruise them away.

“What happened?”

“It's no big deal,” she whispered, trying not to sound like she was crying. “It's just like …”
I have these new claws, there's this note that says my life is in danger….
“Amy's dating my other best friend and doesn't have time for me anymore, and she doesn't even realize what a bitch she's being.” It felt strange to finally say it aloud. She had been thinking it for a while, accompanied with all of the self-doubt that went along with too much introspection. But now it sounded
real.
And even weirder—he had asked her what had happened. He'd asked about what had happened between a girl he'd only gone on one date with and her best friend, whom he had never met. And sounded like he was actually interested. Like he kind of cared.

“I'm sorry. I mean, of course I'll see you tonight.”

Chloe smiled through her sniffles. “Can you—are you free now?” She didn't want to tell him how hard her mom had been on her lately—that sounded so high school. Like she was a little girl not in control of her destiny or daily life.
Which is true, but it's fun to dream.

“Yeah—want to meet at that coffee place by the playground, across from the Peet's?”

“That would be great. I'II see you in a few.”

“Okay, be right there.”

She got off at the next stop, calling her mom to say that she had to stay after school for extra help with trig.

Twenty minutes later she was hunkered down in a comfy, shabby old chair, sipping a mug of tomato soup while Brian sat across from her, looking concerned. I
could get used to this,
Chloe decided. Even though her own friends were—
had been
—really nice, Brian focused his attention on her in a way she had never really experienced before. The kitty cat hat lay on the table between them, and his hair, rather than being flat, greasy hat hair, was sticking up in tousled dark brown clumps that she longed to run her fingers through and straighten. He had another book this time, a collection of short stories by Eudora Welty.

“It sounds stupid, I know,” she said, trying not to sniff. “But Amy's always been the constant in my life. My dad disappears, there's Amy. My mom becomes a complete bitch, there's Amy. Paul acts like a dick to me, there's Amy. Only she's not
there
now, you know? I can't rely on her. She doesn't even answer my messages anymore. And there are… other things in my life, too, stuff I want to tell her about… Stuff we definitely would have talked about if things were, you know, normal.”

“What kind of stuff?”

Chloe hesitated. She was aching to tell
someone,
and Brian seemed like the sort of person who would sympathize once he believed her. But it was a
big
secret and too soon. Maybe she could tell a
little
…

“Well, like, I fell from Coit Tower,” she said, just as abrupdy as she had with her mom.

Brian stared at her.

“I mean, she was
there
and everything and took me to the hospital with Paul….”

“What do you mean, you ‘fell from Coit Tower'?” Brian demanded.

“I mean, I fell.” Chloe indicated with her fingers and the large pepper grinder, making it look like a little person was walking off it and falling.

“From the top? Were you rock climbing?”

“Yes, from the top. No to the rock climbing. Just out the window.”

Brian stared at her silendy for another moment. Chloe began to feel a little uncomfortable.

“And you're… just… fine?”

“Pretty much.” She shrugged and tried to look nonchalant. “But listen, we were talking about me and
Amy.”

“And not the fact that you didn't
die?”

“I think I almost might have,” Chloe allowed, thinking back and wondering how much more to reveal. “I was in this place, and it was all dark, and I was sort of…
pushed
back into life. Like another fall, off someplace very high.”

“Have you told anybody about this?”

“That's what I'm here bitching about!” Chloe snapped. “See, Amy was
there
when I fell, and we never got a chance to talk about it. About what… happened, or seemed to happen. It's kind of weird and personal, you know? I really didn't want to talk about it with anyone else. Besides, she believes in the supernatural and stuff, so you know, she would definitely have some ideas about the whole thing.”

“I can see why you'd be reluctant to mention it to anyone else…. You probably shouldn't, in fact,” he said, taking a sip of coffee. It was plain American. Black. No milk, no sugar, no nothing. Chloe found that kind of sexy; it was rough and masculine. She didn't know anyone else who drank it like that except for doctors on prime time. “Your friend doesn't sound very thoughtful.” He took a breath and seemed like he was forcing himself back on topic.

“She's never been really …
thoughtful”
Chloe reflected on it. “She's an introvert and kind of self-centered, but then she'll suddenly come out of the blue and do something great for you when you least expect it.”
Like skipping school to go to Coit Tower the day before your birthday.

“You don't seem to be blaming Paul much for this or saying much about him,” Brian observed.

“He's… a different kind of ‘best friend,' I guess,”
Chloe said. “He's always around, someone you can watch TV for hours with without saying a word, and it's fine. Or sit on the bleachers with and make firn of the jocks. And sometimes he'll open up a little, like he has no problem admitting when he finds things beautifiil, like art or nature or stuff. But he doesn't even talk as much as he used to; he's a lot more introverted and difficult. Almost cold. Since the divorce,” she realized lamely.

Brian didn't say anything, just raised his eyebrows, like:
Duh.

“But I need Amy, too,” she said in a tiny voice.

Brian laughed.

“Of course you do.
She's
die one who can't seem to adjust or make time for you. Have you tried telling her that?”

“Uh, sort of. The squishy emotional thing is hard when there's already distance and you're pissed at someone.” She changed the subject, suddenly uncomfortable. “So, anyway, uh, how's the job search going?”

“Oh.” He crouched down over his coffee. His brown eyes narrowed and darkened, like he was trying to reheat it with heat vision. For just a moment he didn't look like happy, sensitive Brian. He looked like someone else entirely, someone a lot angrier. “Terrible. And my dad… my dad isn't exacdy making it easier.”

“How?”

“Lectures. Letters. Warnings about my future.” He sighed. “He's very Victorian, does the autocrat-at-the-breakfast-table thing. He wants me to do something
productive with my life. Like going into the family business.”

“What's that?”

“Really. Boring. Stuff. A security company—corporate empire, really—everything from bodyguard supplies to alarm systems—mainly corporate stuff.”

“Bodyguards? That sounds interesting!” Chloe leaned forward. She pictured Brian in something
Matrix-y>
black and neoprene-ish, with leather boots. For some reason she couldn't quite immagine the kitty cat hat, but the rest of the image was extremely sexy.

“Most of what he does is contracts. Paperwork, negotiating with big clients, meetings, company analyses, layoffs… the usual corporate crap.” He smiled wanly.
“Along
with the Kevlar, the Tasers, and the guns. Hence my interest in the whole fish and game department has dropped—did you hear about the cat they have to hunt down in LA? Not my thing at all. Back to guns and other weapons again. No thanks.”

“A cat? Guns?”
Wouldn't a water gun work?
She pictured a little tabby up against a firing squad.

“A mountain lion,” Brian explained, laughing. It was like he could see exacdy what was in her mind. Chloe found herself falling a little bit more in love. “Horrible, really. It attacked a guy jogging by himself at night up in the mountains. He's in really serious condition. . .”

“What was he doing jogging by himself at night in mountain lion territory?” Chloe asked archly.

“It wasn't in a protected park or anything. He was living in a new condo complex they built near the park, and he was just jogging around the neighborhood.”

“So lions are supposed to know exacdy where their park ends and where public streets begin and avoid crunching on all the big, juicy human hamburgers that stroll through their territory? So they're going to kill it!?” Her voice rose as she spoke.