Deo Volente

By Maria Keffler

“There’s really no relief for pain, is there? You either get it now, or you get it later. Or both. But you always get it. Pain makes absolutely freakin’ sure of that.” – Juliet Brynn must start her life over again in her newly-divorced mom’s run-down apartment, and at a new school where she knows no one. Nothing seems familiar or safe or invulnerable except Damon, who feels a world away back at Juliet’s old school on the other side of town. As her mother’s new relationship threatens Juliet’s tenuous hold on her own self-reliance, Juliet’s new friends cope with damaged families, broken hearts, and death in increasingly destructive ways. When Juliet finds herself completely alone in the world with no protections or safety nets, she must choose between the two paths before her: one leading to a dark future that makes no sense, and another that will take her to the only destination which promises to finally put an end to all her pain.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maria Keffler
• Release date: Sep 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310520242

Maria Keffler

Maria Keffler lives in Arlington, Virginia, with her husband and three kids who all wish they were only children. She blogs about things like tarantula-milking lawyers and the savagery of familial relationships at www.wastingmyeducation.blogspot.com, and is presently learning how to cook without the smoke detector finding out about it.

Book preview

I slipped my key into the lock of apartment 32A, turned it, and opened the door.

Mom sat on the floor and leaned back against the couch. Surrounded by piles of catalogs and magazines, she folded back the cover of one and made notes inside a binder propped against her knees.

How was your first day? she asked, all breathless and cheery, as if I’d just returned from an African safari or something.

I dropped my key into my bag. Fine.

Did you make some new friends?

Maybe.

Adjacent to the front door a barstool counter that served as our dining table separated the galley kitchen from the living room. I tossed my stuff onto it and opened the fridge.

You got a package today, from Uncle George and Aunt Millie. It’s on your bed.

What would they have sent me?

Were your classes interesting?

Thrilling.

How about art? Do you like your new teacher as well as you did Miss Downey?

I grabbed a pudding cup and spoon, and sat at the counter, with my back to Mom. He’s kind of a freak.

Oh.

After the divorce and the move Mom was around a lot more often, especially since she worked from home. The smallness of the apartment made our new togetherness even tighter.

Jack’s coming over for dinner tonight.

Would she and Dad have divorced if it hadn’t been for Jack Pierson? If I’d told Dad what I knew would it have changed anything?

Whatever. I tossed my empty pudding cup in the trash and dropped the spoon in the sink.

Take it easy on the silverware, Juliet.

I grabbed my bag and headed back to my bedroom.

Mark’s coming by to pick you up at 6:30, Mom called.

What? Why?

I told you. Jack’s coming over for dinner.

And I’m uninvited from dinner at my own house. Apartment.

You’re going to sleep over at your dad’s place.

I dropped my bag on the floor. Come on! It’s a school night.

She clucked her tongue. Study here, study there. You’re closer to school there, anyway.

The couch at Dad’s place. That’s just awesome.

Stop looking at me like that, Mom said. It’s not a big deal.

In my room, with the door locked behind me, I dropped onto my bed next to Uncle George and Aunt Millie’s package and tore off the brown Kraft paper.

A Bible.

Great. I’d have preferred one of Jean M. Auel’s new novels. I put it on my vanity table.

My furniture wouldn’t all fit in here, so when we moved Mom and Dad took my desk to Goodwill with all the stuff neither one of them wanted. My vanity squeezed against the wall to the left of my bed, and did triple duty as a work desk and nightstand. This closet was only half as big as my old one, but I’d gotten rid of all the clothes I didn’t like in one huge, I-hate-everything-and-I-don’t-care purge, and now I had a lot less to put in there. Mark’s old girlfriend gave me another bag of her hand-me-downs, so while I didn’t have a lot, what I did have looked pretty cool.

The few items of makeup I had lay in the middle of my vanity table. I scooted them back against the base of the mirror and pulled out my algebra book.

Math destroyed me, and I belonged in honors about as much as I belonged on the cheer squad or the swim team. When Mai Yung told me we were in multivariate operations she might as well have been speaking Chinese. But when we opened our books in class, I almost jumped out of my seat and yelled, Yes! Two-variable equations. We did those last semester at Parnell, followed by three-variable equations, and Damon helped me understand the whole process better than my math teacher ever did.

I blazed through the page of problems and just finished the last one when the phone rang. I grabbed the handset as I closed my math book.

Hey, beautiful. Damon’s voice entered my ear and flooded my whole body. It triggered shivers and fizzies, along with a deep ache. You can’t expect a long-distance relationship between teenagers to last.

I love you. You know why? I asked him.

’Cause I’m just that lovable?

Because I just did a whole page of algebra in about fifteen minutes.

You rock!

No, you rock. What will I do without you when we get to something I don’t know?

You aren’t without me.

Did Damon have any fears about us at all?

How was your first day? he asked.

Okay. I met a few people that seem pretty cool. A couple that don’t.

How’s your schedule?

Oh my gosh, I said. They’ve got me in almost all honors classes.

So?

So? So I can’t do honors work.

Sure you can.

I’m not that smart, I argued.

You’re so much smarter than you think you are.

I grabbed the phone’s cradle and flopped down on my bed. The coiled cord draped over the edge and hung on the floor. It needed to be untangled again. With a room this small, I could probably swap it for a shorter one.

Stick with the honors classes, Damon said. You’ll do fine.

How was everything with you today?

He sighed. Okay. Lousy. I miss you.

I miss you, too.

We talked for an hour, until I heard the front door open and close. I checked the clock. Only five-thirty.

I think Mark’s here to pick me up.

Okay. I’ll call you again tomorrow?

I’ll be here. Well, either here or Dad’s. Who knows.

I love you.

Fizzies. Sweet fizzies. I love you, too.

I put the phone back and shoved a couple of outfits and some underwear in my canvas bag, along with my school books and a pair of sweats to sleep in. I tossed in my lip gloss, eye shadow and blush, as well as a new sketchbook and a novel Damon loaned me.

Maybe Mark would take me out for a burger or something. Dad never had anything to eat in his apartment.

With my bulging bag slung over my shoulder, I turned the knob and unlocked my bedroom door. I heard his voice before I saw him, and wished I’d stayed in my room.

Well, look at that. Juliet’s here.

I came down the hall and just stared at him. He reclined on the couch next to Mom, who still sat on the floor, and she leaned against his knee.

I live here, I said.

We stared at each other.

Say hello to Jack, Juliet, Mom said.

Hello to Jack.

He narrowed his eyes at me, then bent forward and rubbed her shoulders with both hands. Got a bit of a sassy mouth, haven’t you?

Jack, Mom whispered.

When he squeezed Mom’s upper arm, I saw something I never noticed before.

He shook his head slowly. I won’t abide disrespect from a thirteen-year-old.

A pale groove ran around the base of his left ring finger, right where the knuckle met the hand.

I’m fourteen.

He ran his thumbs up the muscles at the back of Mom’s neck. And you’ll watch your mouth.

Jerk.

I stared at his hand, then at his rock-jawed face, then back at his hand again.

Sometime very recently Jack wore a wedding ring.

* * * * *

Mark and I slid into a booth with our trays.

Mom cut off my allowance till she starts to make a profit from her business, I told him.

He unwrapped his burger. What, is she broke?

I don’t know. I mean, she’s got all that money from the house, right? I took a drink of soda. Anyway, thanks for paying.

Dad agreed to float me fifty a week, as long as I keep the grades up and don’t get anybody pregnant.

Geez! He said that?

Mark laughed. Well, did you ever do the math on me?

What do you mean?

When’s my birthday?

May.

He took a bite of burger. What year?

’65. Yeah?

Right-o. When did they get married?

1964? My stomach flipped when I made the connection. November.

Mark clucked his tongue and pointed his first finger at me.

Oh my gosh. Things just kept getting weirder. Maybe if I threaten to get pregnant Mom’ll give me my allowance back.

They’ve got more reason to worry about you.

I blinked hard at him. Excuse me?

I mean, you’re a girl. I can always say it isn’t mine and walk away.

Geez, Mark!

I’m just saying. Not that I would.

We ate in silence for the next few minutes. I couldn’t believe he said that, even if it was a joke.

How is it with Mom? he asked.

I don’t know. I ate a few fries, but my stomach started to feel kind of sour. Jack’s there a lot.

Does he spend the night?

I shrugged. If he had, I didn’t know about it. But she did send me away this time.

What about you? How’s life with Dad?

I’m not there much.

How come?

He shook his head. Other places to be.

Did you talk to him about Berkeley?

Yeah. I’m going. He’ll pay for it.

So it’s all set.

As long as I get at least a 3.2 for the last semester. Otherwise I lose my admission.

I took another drink of soda. That should be easy for you.

"Yeah. Deo volente, as Dad would say."

What’s that mean?

You know. ‘God willing.’

Whatever, I said. Not like Mark had ever needed God’s help to ace school.

We finished and drove back to Dad’s apartment.

Doesn’t look like he’s here, Mark said as he scanned the parking lot. Have you got a key?

No.

He should give you a key. I’ll let you in, then I’m out of here.

We walked up to the main entrance and Mark punched in the security code. The door buzzed and he opened it.

Where are you going?

Missy’s.

Is it okay if I use your room till you get back?

I guess so. How come?

Just for some privacy.

Damon coming over? He grinned at me.

I wish. No.

We took the elevator up to the fifth floor.

Does Dad know you’re staying?

I don’t know. Mom just told me you were picking me up.

The elevator doors opened and we stepped out and turned left. Mark unlocked the apartment and headed back down the hall.

I closed the door behind me and locked it. Then I leaned against it and looked around the dim, Spartan apartment. Dad’s was a lot bigger than Mom’s, and had an actual dining room as well as two bedrooms, each with its own bathroom.

Dad kept none of the furniture from the house except the desk from the den, a couple of bookshelves and his favorite recliner. He got a new couch—brown leather—and a matching armchair for the living room. A card table and four folding chairs looked tiny, cheap, and ignored in the middle of the dining room, and the only kitchen appliances that showed any use were the coffeemaker and toaster.

Mark’s bedroom faced Dad’s on the opposite side of the hall. I left my coat draped over the leather armchair and went back to Mark’s room.

He didn’t have to get rid of as much stuff as I did, and in fact got a bigger and better room here than he had at home. He didn’t even have to change schools, since we moved from one end of the Vinton district to the other.

At least Damon and I would get to go to high school together.

I plopped down on Mark’s unmade bed and noticed the new TV on top of his dresser.

Lucky duck.

I turned it on, then worked on my homework while I watched the evening prime time lineup.

The honors work I had so far didn’t seem terrible. Mrs. Saxony gave us a bunch of reading for social studies—more than I would’ve had in my old class, but not so much I couldn’t get through it—and I’d already read, studied and evaluated the themes in The Little Prince, so I didn’t even bother with that.

Hap assigned a self-portrait for art, so I opened the cover of my new sketchbook and penciled myself in. I yawned as I completed the outline of my face and wondered if I could do a prophetic drawing about myself. I closed my eyes.

Who could I be here?

I saw myself—that was good. If I got static and fog, it meant God didn’t want me to draw the thing I wanted to draw.

Could I make myself popular?

Smiling people, reaching to touch me, eyes swimming with adoration, filled in the white space around the page in my mind, but as soon as I imagined them the blur swept in from the edges of my thoughts and obliterated all but me.

Really? I can’t be cool?

The blur faded to dark then, and the edges of the page seemed soaked in pure ink.

Eyes still closed, I watched the picture emerge. The people around me came back, but with much different expressions on their faces: fear, surprise, sadness, anger. They all looked at me, and a couple reached toward me, but with hesitation, skepticism. A few shielded their eyes, or looked away. The figures and faces became opaque, but colorless, even washed-out.

I, on the other hand, turned translucent. You could see my features and the shape of my body, but I looked vague and filmy. The picture’s light source seemed to come from somewhere behind me, then shoot through my body, as if I contained—or had become—a prism.

With the idea complete in my head, I opened my eyes and started to sketch. I spoke it out as I did.

I’m see-through, and the light comes out of me.

This would’ve been better with paint, but I only had my colored pencils on hand, so I did the best I could with those.

There’s Kari Ann, and Aisha. Grace, Heather and Chad. I named the people as they appeared under my pencil’s lead.

Damon showed up too, right behind me, with his dimpled grin and indigo eyes. Out of everyone, only he looked toward my face, and once I finished him I realized that he turned out as translucent as me.

With deepest black I started around the edge of the paper and colored hard to bring out the darkness. Moving toward the center I changed to charcoal gray, then medium gray and into the beiges.

I thought I’d finished, but my hand wouldn’t let go of the pencil.

What? I asked.

My eyes fell on the hollow of my throat, where the collarbones came together. I slashed a quick line across them, then made a second line, vertical and through the center of the first.

My pencil dropped onto the bed and my head dropped onto Mark’s pillow.

Exhaustion washed over me and I just wanted to sleep. I forced my eyes open and checked the clock. Already eleven. Without even enough energy to go turn off the TV, I flipped off the lamp, laid back and rolled the edge of the comforter over top of me. I’d move out to the couch after Mark got home.

But my brain buzzed like I’d drunk seven or eight cans of soda. I couldn’t shut it off. Consciousness faded in and out, but every time the very edge of sleep reached for me, something bounced me awake again.

Would this ever stop?

A vertical rainbow painted the television screen, so I got up to turn it off, then pulled out the novel Damon loaned me. I got to chapter three of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy before my eyes itched and I had to go to the bathroom.

Water and toothpaste splotches covered Mark’s mirror, so I wet a tissue and cleaned it. Since I couldn’t sleep, and would probably be zonked in the morning, I decided to just take a shower now.

A bird’s nest of hair covered the drain. Gross. I grabbed a handful of tissues and cleaned the bottom of the tub, then showered and washed my hair. Mark didn’t have any conditioner, so I made a mental note to bring some for myself next time I came over.

I combed my hair, braided it to make it curly, and put on my sweats.

One o’clock.

Under the covers, with Mark’s pillow fluffed under my head, I stared at the ceiling for another half an hour.

Okay. I give up.

I kept the painkillers from the accident wrapped up in my girl stuff in the zippered compartment of my bag, so I pulled them out and emptied them into my hand.

Eight. I sighed.

If I took more than half a pill, I’d never wake up in time for school.

With the last seven and a half pills tucked safely inside my bag, I curled up and waited. It never took long.

My muscles unwound. Fingers and toes unclenched. Breaths drew longer and deeper.

Warm, dark, and soft, sleep came in and out and over me.

I have to stop doing this.

CHAPTER 3

The Doberman in my dream barked two words: Wake up! My eyes snapped open in the dark.

Where am I?

I felt around the bed. Huge. Two pillows. Thick comforter.

Where’s the door? Window? Lights?

What time is it?

My hand groped around the surface of the night table. Something rolled off and clunked on the floor. I found the clock and pulled it around to face me.

6:42.

What day is it?

My brain spun around inside the fog that filled my skull.

Pills.

Crud. I think I took another pill.

The lampshade bumped my fingertips and I felt my way under it to the switch.

Mark’s room.

It’s morning. It’s Tuesday.

Where’s Mark?

School starts at 7:40.

I threw the covers back and jumped out of bed. That dizzy feeling, where the world spins one way and I spin the other, threw me down again. My eyelids felt like overhead garage doors that wouldn’t stay up. I rubbed them with the heels of my hands.

Air helped. With breath after deep breath I forced myself to stand up. I climbed onto the bed on my knees and pushed open the window behind it. Cold air washed over my face and shoulders. I shivered, but my senses all snapped awake.

Outside the window a wooden swing and climbing set stood at the center of a small playground. One streetlight shone down on the still swings, snow-covered slide, and ladder. A light blinked on in a window across the courtyard. A woman, silhouetted on the blind, lifted a small child and put him in a highchair. I watched his shadow eat breakfast as I unwound my hair.

I closed the window and picked up the roll of quarters I’d knocked off the nightstand, dressed, and shoved all my things back into my bag. The aroma of coffee wafted into Mark’s room.

Dad sat in the living room on the fat couch, a book in one hand and a mug balanced on his knee.

Morning, I said.

He looked up. Juliet? What are you doing here?

Sorry.

I didn’t mean it like that. He shook his head. I just didn’t know you spent the night.

You didn’t see my coat? I pointed to where it still hung on the armchair.

That’s my warning, huh?

Sorry.

Is Mark still in bed? he asked.

No.

He’s gone bright and early.

I nodded. I’ve got to get to school.

There are bagels on the counter.

It’s okay if I have one?

He gave me the Dad look. "Cogito ergo sum, Juliet. Think. I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t."

The bakery box hung open and I peeked inside. I grabbed a cinnamon-raisin. Can you give me a ride to school?

He looked at his watch and grunted. It’s only three blocks, Juliet. Why can’t you walk?

I don’t really know the way from here.

Out the gate, turn left there, and then right on Broad. Walk till you pass the drugstore and bank, then go left on Westover. You can’t miss it.

My bike’s at Mom’s.

And?

It’s kind of a long way from school to Mom’s. You know, this afternoon.

He looked back down at his book. Also walkable.

Fine.

I held the bagel in my teeth as I put my coat on and buttoned it. Mark said maybe you could give me a key, just in case?

What for?

I shrugged. In case.

You live with your mother. You’re welcome to come over, but I’m not making a bunch of keys and passing them out.

One is a bunch? Fine. I’ll see you. I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed for the door.

And tell your mother to check with me before she sends you over next time. I’d like to be advised a little ahead of the event.

Sure.

They said I’d have two homes after the divorce. Two happy, peaceful homes.

Right.

Have company last night, did she?

Did he know about Jack? How much did he know? Did it even matter anymore?

I shrugged.

You girls pinky-swore to secrecy, huh?

What? No. I opened the front door and took a bite of bagel. I’ve got to go.

Outside the building the entry door clicked shut and locked behind me.

My breath puffed out in white clouds as I headed toward Broad Street. I pulled my hood up and cinched it around my face.

Snow drifted in huge mounds on both sides of the street, shrinking into dirty little piles of slush at the shoulders before melting into nothing over the asphalt. Much as I didn’t really like snow, at least while it covered the ground Damon could come across town on the snowmobile, as often as he could get it away from Adam. And Adam would take his driver’s test again next week, and hopefully get his license back so he could drive the motorcycle or their truck more often instead.

The pain pills made my mouth dry, and the last bite of bagel went down hard. I would’ve liked to stop in the drugstore and get a bottle of juice or something, but I didn’t have any money with me. I had a few dollars stashed in a sock at Mom’s place, but I forgot to grab it on the way out yesterday.

Crud. Lunch. Should’ve grabbed another bagel. Or some of Mark’s quarters.

The cold crept in through the thin soles of my tennies, and the canvas quickly soaked up the drops of wet I kicked up with every step. I needed boots.

Turn left, then right, then left.

The sign for Westover Boulevard peeked out under a drooping, bare tree limb.

Several buses approached from the opposite direction and turned in front of me. The words North Pike County Schools passed by me three times, in black block letters on yellow, like a cycling marquee.

You walk, too?

I jumped about three miles high at the voice right behind me.

Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.

Chad. I exhaled and a breath cloud ballooned between us and evaporated. I didn’t see you.

Yeah. You’re kind of in your own world.

We walked beside the buses that waited to turn left into the school driveway. I’m still not very awake, I said.

Night owl?

I don’t know. Maybe. I didn’t sleep well last night.

I never sleep well.

I looked up at him. A shock of his light brown hair twisted in a cowlick at the part.

How come? I asked.

I just don’t. Never have. His backpack slid off his left shoulder and he slung it over to the right one. If I get the right combination of music, temperature, lights and pillows and blankets and stuff, I can sometimes fall asleep. Otherwise I just stay up till I pass out.

Every night?

Pretty much.

We got to the front doors and I waited for him to open it, but he didn’t. So I did and went in first.

Where’s your locker? he asked.

Down the science hall.

You must live close, he said, as we turned down the junior high corridor. Since you’re walking.

My dad does. Mom, not as much.

A group of kids came down the stairs just as we started up. I tried to step in front of Chad, to get out of their way, but he didn’t seem to notice them and didn’t slow down at all. I had to fall in behind him.

You live with your dad, then? he asked.

No. I skipped a step to move back up beside him after we passed the group. I just spent the night there last night.

How come?

Is anything off-limits to you, Chad?

I mean, I don’t know, really, how that works. Divorce.

We reached the top of the stairs and he stopped.

It’s kind of new territory for me, too, I said. I shrugged it off and pointed toward the science hall. I need to get to my locker.

Chad looked at his watch. No, you’re okay. We’re pretty early.

Then he didn’t say anything, but just stood there and looked at me. Okay. But, um… I’m going to go put my stuff away.

You have capacious eyes.

A weird, unpleasant churning, kind of like the anxiety I used to feel around guys, spread out from the middle of me. What?

It’s not a bad thing, he said, really quickly. It’s not really good, either. It’s just means expansive, open.

Okay.

He looked at his feet. That was stupid. I shouldn’t have said that.

No. It’s fine.

I just meant that I think there’s a lot behind your eyes. Inside.

Thanks. I waited till he stole a glance up. That was nice.

Really? He half grinned. Not stupid?

Not stupid.

Okay.

Then he walked away.

Bye, I said under my breath.

Weird.

I got my locker open and stashed everything I didn’t need for English, then headed to Mrs. Shively’s room.

Kari Ann met me at the door, breathless and flushed pink. She held up the back of her hand. Look!

Nothing seemed wrong with it. Or especially right. Or anything else. What?

Our hands brushed. Right there. She curled her fingers and twisted her knuckles up at my face.

Bobby?

She sighed and brought her knuckles up to her cheek. It was electric, Julie. I swear, I almost passed out.

We went into the empty classroom and sat down in a couple of seats near the door. Mrs. Shively hadn’t come in yet.

Oh, my gosh, I said. You’ve got it so bad.

I know. She leaned back and closed her eyes. He’s so dreamy.

You have got to actually talk to him, Kari Ann.

Her eyes popped open. The whites almost glowed with irradiated terror. I can’t, she whispered. He’s so—and I’m not—there’s no way.

Don’t be ridiculous.

I wouldn’t even know what to say to him.

Yeah, I understood that. Before I really got to know Damon every breath I took in his presence triggered muscle seizures and panic attacks. You start with, ‘Hi.’

Easy for you to say.

I took out my books, put them on the desk and hung my bag on the back of the chair. It’s not easy at first, but it gets easier. I promise.

I’m not popular enough for Bobby. The blissful electricity in Kari Ann’s face fizzled away.

Popularity is overrated.

Right. Her eyes narrowed. Spoken like someone who’s popular.

I laughed.

That’s funny?

Pretty funny. Yeah.

Mai Yung came in then, and this sense of guilt poked at my conscience. But Kari Ann’s been in love with Bobby longer.

Good morning, Mai Yung said in her precise way and sat down on the other side of me.

In white Mary Janes, white tights, a red sweater embroidered with white and gold flowers, and a red, pleated, knee-length skirt, Mai Yung looked like a baby doll off the shelf at Dillon’s. Red and white chrysanthemum barrettes held her hair back on both sides.

The first bell rang and other kids started to filter in. Grace sat across the room, glanced over and half smiled. Her bloodshot eyes glistened.

Peter and Vinny came in together and sat a couple of seats away from Grace. Then a boy I didn’t recognize came through the door, went over to Peter and Vinny and high-fived them both before he sat down next to Peter.

You’re back, dude, Peter said.

Yeah. The new boy grimaced. Mom checked my temperature this morning and gave me the boot.

That’s Blake, Kari Ann whispered. He’s totally brilliant and a total slacker. It’s so unfair how easy stuff is for him when he does absolutely no work at all.

Mrs. Shively came in with the second bell, but before she could say a word the fire alarm screamed.

We all jumped and plugged our ears.

Oh, for the love of God, Mrs. Shively said.

Her words sent a cringe up my spine. Those words never meant what they seemed to mean.

Come on, she told us. Leave your things here, follow me.

We marched in a single-file line down the hall, down a staircase I hadn’t seen before, and out the side door of the school, into the snow.

Arms wrapped around myself, I wished I hadn’t left my coat in my locker.

An icicle broke off and fell from the awning. I stepped out from under it, closer to Aisha, in case another one came down. Then, out of nowhere, a huge, freezing globe of snow hurtled toward me. It hit me square in the neck, exploded over my face and chest, and slid down into my sweater.

* * * * *

The scream that erupted from my throat curdled my own blood.

What the heck, Russell? Peter yelled from behind me.

On the other side of the sidewalk, lined up with Mrs. Saxony’s social studies class, Bobby Russell stared at me with wide eyes and a smile I think was supposed to melt me into forgiveness.

Oh man! Bobby yelled. I’m sorry! I was aiming for Blake. You moved.

Kari Ann brushed snow off of me but never even looked at Bobby. Come on, Kari Ann. This is a perfect chance to talk to him.

But she didn’t.

He walked up behind her. Hey, I am really sorry, he said to me.

Kari Ann froze, one hand still on my arm, her face a study in exhilarated terror.

Why do you keep throwing things at me? I asked Bobby.

He scowled down at me over Kari Ann’s shoulder, perplexed.

The paper airplane? I reminded him.

His first finger pointed at me, thumb up, in a gun-like shape. Science.

Yeah.

He shrugged and stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. Why do you keep getting in the way of the stuff I’m throwing?

Seriously?

Kari Ann. I turned her around and put her beside me so at least he’d see her. Stand here for a second.

I stepped up to Bobby Russell.

So this is my fault? I asked.

You go girl. Aisha pushed me on the back of the shoulder.

Just sayin’. He grinned. You shouldn’t be so careless about where you’re standing.

What I learned during a snow fight I once had with Damon came back to me, and I stepped closer to Bobby.

You shouldn’t start something you can’t finish. I hooked my foot around the back of his ankle at the same moment I pushed on his chest with both hands and all my strength.

He reached toward me as he fell backwards. I leaned back away from him and pulled hard on his ankle. And little me put brawny Bobby Russell flat on his back in the snow.

Laughter erupted everywhere. Even the teachers bit back smiles.

Bobby stared up at me, total shock on his face.

Maybe Kari Ann will be nice enough to help you up.

The fire alarm went silent and everyone headed back into the building.

Kari Ann. I prodded her arm. Give Bobby a hand.

Her face looked like I suggested she wrap herself in strips of raw bacon and go swimming in a pool filled with starving piranhas. She spun on her heel and ran inside.

I can’t believe you just did that. Bobby stared up at me.

Blake reached his hand down and pulled Bobby up. Dude, I can’t believe you cannoned a girl.

I’m not sure she’s really a girl, Bobby said as he brushed snow off his pants.

I hurried after Kari Ann.

Oh, she’s a girl, I heard Blake say. She’s definitely a girl.

Aisha held the door for me and I glanced back over my shoulder as I went through. Blake and Bobby both stared at me.

Oh crud. That’s not at all what I meant to have happen.

* * * * *

I’m such an idiot. Kari Ann buried her face in her hands and hunched over the desk.

Hap circled the room to collect our self-portraits and check on our progress with today’s assignment. We had to put two different images on opposite sides of the paper and blend them together in the middle.

It’s okay, I told Kari Ann. There are worse things than looking shy.

I didn’t look shy! I looked stupid!

No you didn’t. I promise.

Kari Ann Callaghan. There is no crying in art. Hap knelt down by her desk. Well, that’s an untruth, of course. Artists are generally a manic-depressive lot. But if the tears must flow, direct them into your creation. His hands moved like waves between his forehead and Kari’s paper.

I stifled a giggle. Your last name is Callaghan? Kari Ann Callaghan? That’s almost cute enough to be sickening.

What’s going on, sweetheart? Hap asked.

Nothing. Kari Ann wiped her eyes and handed him her homework.

He sat down on the floor beside her and held up her self-portrait. Who is this ‘Kari Ann’? Julie, what do you think?

Kari Ann captured most of the surface stuff about herself. Reddish-brown, shoulder-length hair that tended to curl around her face. Freckles across her nose. Deep-set green eyes with short, but thick lashes. A square-ish jaw, softened by a heart-shaped mouth and dimples. But the drawing lacked anything deeper, any facial expression, or suggestions of what lived behind the face.

Don’t be afraid, Hap said. Give it your honest appraisal.

Right. Kari Ann’s already crying.

If you were strangers, which you nearly are, what would this picture tell you?

I looked at Kari Ann. That she’s pretty, but doesn’t really know it.

Excellent insight. And?

Deep breath. Please, God, let this be okay. That she either doesn’t know herself very well, or doesn’t like what she does know.

Kari Ann scowled at me. What the heck?

Hap shrugged. "I agree with Julie. You don’t appreciate what a stellarly extraordinary homo sapiens you are."

Her face went red and another tear spilled out.

But that’s okay, Hap said. Confidence is more easily fomented than humility. Julie, how about your homework?

I tore it out for him.

Wow, he said.

What?

Hap showed it to Kari Ann. Your friend may have visions of grandeur swirling about her consciousness.

Come on, I said. No.

Your audience isn’t particularly enamored with you, though. Are they?

It didn’t come out quite like I wanted.

Hap stood up. It rarely does, Juliet of Capulet. And that summarily applies to the entirety of everything. He stacked our sketches with the others piled on his forearm and continued around the room.

Kari Ann sketched a donkey’s head on the right edge of her paper.

What are you going to morph it into? I asked.

The Grim Reaper.

She’d gone from the peak of elation to the pit of anguish in the span of one class period.

An idea struck me. Could I do it? I closed my eyes and tried to form it in my imagination. I wouldn’t speak it, because it wasn’t meant to prophesy.

But would Kari Ann kill me? I’d have to give it to Hap.

I outlined the edges of Kari Ann’s face on the right side of the page, and did Bobby’s on the left.

Oh, I so wanted to speak this out. But even as I considered it, the image disappeared from my head.

Okay, God. I won’t do it.

The picture returned, and I morphed the two faces together. Where they met in the center, their features overlapped, and a third face emerged.

Wow. I didn’t see that coming. Please don’t let it be me.

My pencil moved this way and that, almost on its own. But I didn’t recognize the very distinct face that took shape.

Kari Ann finished her sketch and looked over toward mine. What are you doing?

Nothing.

Still wallowing in misery tinged with irritation, Kari Ann tipped her head at me. It’s not nothing.

On only the second day of school, the last thing I wanted to do was destroy potential friendships. Please don’t be mad at me. I bit my lower lip and turned the sketch book toward her. It was the only thing I could think of.

Oh my gosh, you did Bobby and me? She took my sketchbook in both hands and held it up. That is so good.

I hope you don’t mind.

Her eyes flitted back and forth from the two edges of the paper as her face alternated between glee and dread. Then her gaze stopped at the center. She stared at the third face that materialized there.

Oh my gosh, she whispered.

I scooted over to look at it with her. That’s kind of weird, I know.

Kari Ann looked at me, then squinted at my sketch again.

It’s strange how your two faces just made that one, kind of all by themselves.

Julie, Kari Ann said.

I hope you’re not mad. I’ll tell Hap not to post it in public.

She put the sketchbook down on her desk and turned to me. Her eyebrows arched up above the bridge of her nose and her lower lip looked kind of quivery.

I swear, I’ll never show it to Bobby, unless you tell me it’s okay.

How did you do that? she asked.

Geez, I hear that question a lot.

I shook my head. It just kind of happened.

Did you know him? she asked.

Who?

My brother.

Your brother?

Kari Ann pointed to the face between hers and Bobby’s. Him. That’s my brother.

Really?

Cool.

I don’t know him. Like I said, it just happened.

She stared at me, her mouth half open in an upside-down crescent.

Should I tell her about my gift?

That’s totally freaky. Like, scary freaky. She shuddered.

It’s not that big a deal, I said and tossed my hair over my shoulder to fake the nonchalance I didn’t really feel.

Kari Ann held up the picture again. He looks older.

Older? What do you mean?

She swallowed and blinked hard. Than when he died.

CHAPTER 4

We read our textbooks through science again, and I never once let myself look toward the back of the room at Bobby Russell. If he had the slightest interest in me, I had to squelch that immediately.

In gym class Mr. Bock chose Bobby and Blake as team captains. Bobby picked me first for his team, and Blake picked Heather. When Mr. Bock told Heather and me to choose the next people, I picked Mai Yung and stood her between Bobby and me. He looked at me weird over the top of Mai Yung’s head. But he didn’t say anything to embarrass her, and that made me like him a little better than I did after the snow.

A huge, fat rope stretched across the length of the gym. Bobby wasn’t the heaviest kid on our team, but he was probably the strongest, so he took the anchor position for tug-of-war.

Julie, you’re in front of me.

Right. If we win, I fall into him. Lose, he falls on top of me.

No way.

Bobby lined us all up, alternating boys and girls. "Then Annie, Carl and Mai Yung in front.

I think I should trade places with Mai Yung, I said.

Mai Yung’s eyes crinkled and her little mouth curled into a crescent.

Kari Ann’s face flickered across my thoughts.

I don’t care who he falls for, as long as it isn’t me.

Bobby scowled. He got a crease between his eyebrows a lot like Damon did.

I didn’t wait for him to agree, but moved further up the line.

Mai Yung practically skipped over to Bobby’s side.

We all took our places and grabbed the handkerchief tied at the middle section of the rope. Mr. Bock blew his whistle. It dropped against his chest and nestled between the twin bulges of his freaky-huge pectorals.

Across the center line from me Heather Moody leaned back and clutched the fat rope with both manicured hands. Gorgeous, popular and ultra-cool, she also looked pretty competitive. Knees locked and head down, she stared at me with half a smile and steely Scandinavian blue eyes.

Oh, I’ve got game, too.

I planted my feet against the floor and fitted my hands next to each other around the stiff, braided cord. Hair tossed over my shoulder, I smiled back at Heather, like I knew something she didn’t, the way I learned at the Academic Olympics.

Bock blew his whistle again. Ready? And… pull!

Bobby coached us from the back, chanting, Pull… pull… pull… in a rhythm we easily caught.

Blake did the same at the back of Heather’s team.

My eyes fixed on Heather’s long, Sakura-pink fingernails.

Stress stretched through the rope as it crept away and toward me with each uneven and opposing drag. Arrows passed through my mind, vectors that fought back and forth among the fibers. Bobby called out a little faster each time, till our pulling rhythm fit into the off-beat of theirs. The center-mark handkerchief fluttered as the rope strained with each team’s heaving.

And that’s all it did.

What happens when an immovable object meets an irresistible force?

Nothing.

Nothing, except that your muscles start to cry and your hands sweat. You work like crazy just to stand still and breath comes faster and shallower and you wonder why you’re even doing this.

The two teams proved so evenly matched that the rope might as well have been anchored to the wall on each end of the gym.

I pulled and pulled with all my teammates as Bobby coached us.

My shoulders cried and the muscles in my thighs and calves shuddered.

Heather stared at me, her face growing pink as her nails. Give it up! she called.

If I relaxed and just went through the motions, no one would even notice.

The muscles in my abdomen thickened, hard and hot.

Keep the pressure on! Bobby yelled. Pull!

This is stupid. It’s a game. I checked the clock. Who knew what