First of all, the fact that I was in a coma for four years is crazy enough, but landing myself in the hospital just months after I wake up is beyond insane. Not to mention the fact that both incidents involved my getting a bit too close to a lightning strike. What’s up with that? I’m beginning to think that there is really something wrong with me. I mean, why on earth would I go wandering around in the park during a storm? And why is my memory all messed up? I make a note to bring these questions up with my doctor next time I visit. Maybe I’m just crazy, but it all seems a bit too coincidental. Plus the fact that my best friend’s boyfriend stops me at school with some nutty ideas about our personal history. And now that I think about it, I have to question my friendship with Dani. I mean, she’s been fairly distant for the past couple of weeks…and those comments she made about Cricket just make me mad. Maybe she’s pre-occupied with Homecoming, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that we’ve been best friends since third grade. Maybe Zach sees something up with Dani too…maybe that’s why he stopped to talk to me. Who knows? Not me, apparently. I’m walking around with big holes in my brain, technically speaking. I’m a walking program error, a corrupted file, just trying to figure out how to get through the next interface.
On my nightstand at home is a photo of me when I was about five years old. I look at it every night before I go to bed. When I get home, as I’m getting ready to go to the game, I pick it up and look at it for a long time. It’s me, but I feel disconnected from it—and rightly so. Four years of my life were basically erased, non-existent. What happened during those four years, inside my brain? And how did I get from there, to where I am now—a girl with an incomplete past, and a future that seems almost as uncertain? Those missing memories must be in my brain somewhere, right? Memories don’t just disappear. I mean, they happened. The only thing preventing me from knowing how or where is me—and whatever physical limitations resulted from my accidents. Pretty messed up, to be both protagonist and antagonist in the story that is my own screwed up life.
I decide the only answer is to move forward. My past isn’t the only thing that determines who I am. Some people might even say that forgetting the past and living in the present is a good way to go. I have all the basic information I need to function. I remember the important stuff—like vacations with my parents when I was little, Christmases, birthdays…for the most part. I still have my friends. I’m doing pretty good in school. It’s not like the rest of my life is going to be based on what happens in high school. My dad once asked me, when I was upset about not being invited to a friend’s party in fifth grade: Is this going to matter in five years? Ten years? That made me think, about how the things that happen to me as a kid aren’t as big and scary as they seem. If I can deal with the small stuff, he said, I will breeze through the big stuff.
As it stands right now, the biggest thing that’s happened to me is laying in a hospital bed for four years. I’ve already cleared the biggest hurdle—the physical consequences of that injury. I’ve recovered, for the most part, with some partial memory loss, which doesn’t affect my ability to function on a daily basis. I remember one time in school, a teacher telling us a story about a friend of his who got shot in a random drive-by shooting, and lived to tell about it. His conclusion was that the worst thing in life had already happened to him, so he might as well enjoy and make the best of his life from there on out. I remember that, because it made sense to me. Why dwell on something bad that’s happened, when it’s over? It makes no sense to live in the past. Living in the past lands people in therapy. Living in the past makes people miss the good stuff in life.
And I for one, don’t want to miss that. Tess Turner’s future begins, right here and now. I can’t help but smile to myself with this new outlook. It almost feels empowering enough to make me actually want to go to a football game and a dance, two things I probably wouldn’t even have considered before. Maybe I have changed. And maybe, it’s a good thing.
Zach
After a fitful couple nights of sleep, I wake up Monday morning halfheartedly ready for Homecoming week. There will be spirit events, socializing, practices, and more practices, a dinner with the team the night before the game…Plus Dani and the dance on Saturday night. I am in for a busy week, so I must stay focused. With some reluctance, I push my father and Project Zero to the back of my mind, knowing full well that every time I see Tess Turner, I will be reminded again. Hopefully, I will have the strength to take this whole thing one step at a time. I could really mess things up by saying the wrong thing to the wrong person, or getting so worked up that everything else in my life starts going haywire. If it truly is my father, and I truly do have a role to play in this continuing adventure, time will reveal it. Caution seems to be the best route at this point.
By Friday, I am calm and focused, ready for the game. My mom sends me off with a pancake breakfast and a hug, and wishes me well at practice after school. I drive to school with the windows down and music loud to keep my mind off analyzing anything—like the connection between the human brain and electrical currents, and Tess Turner’s peculiar relationship with lightning. I stop for a coffee on the way to school, and by the time I pull into the lot, I am feeling somewhat energized and positive. Now I just need to keep this game face on, no matter what.
Dani is standing at the entrance to the school, waiting for me. She runs up and jumps on me, wrapping her legs around me.
“Whoa, slow down! I’m the one that’s supposed to be working on my tackling.”
Dani giggles and kisses my cheek. “I missed you.”
“You too,” I smile and kiss her back. “You look cute.” She is dressed in her cheerleader uniform, with black and gold striped socks, and a matching ribbon in her hair.
“You like the socks? They’re new.” She stretches out a leg and twirls her foot.
“Awesomely adorable,” I agree, kissing her again.
That morning, the whole school gathers in the gymnasium for a spirit assembly. I sit near the floor with my team members and the cheerleading squad. As the school song blares on the stereo, I glance over at Dani, and she winks at me. Then Alex, student body president, gets up to deliver a rallying speech. At the end, black and gold confetti streams from the ceiling, as the cheerleaders gather on the floor to do a dance routine.
I smile, watching Dani gracefully and enthusiastically move to the music, her skirt swishing back and forth, her hair bobbing. I am, as always, and once again, taken back by her perfection—her athletic form, curvy hips, and that blonde, cascading hair. One of my teammates nudges me during the routine. “Hot,” he says, with a nod and a grin. I must agree.
As the cheerleaders arrange themselves into a pyramid, I look out over the crowd—some 900 students in the school—some of them cheering wildly, others with their eyes glued to their cell phones. There is a moment where the lights seems to brighten, sort of an orb-like effect, and my eyes hone in on one person in the sea of faces.
Tess.
She is watching attentively, even approvingly—after all, Dani is—or was—I’m not sure these days—her best friend. I watch her for a moment, and then, she appears to look directly at me. All this distance between us, but I can see her face with absolute clarity, the dark, glimmering sheen of her hair, her pale complexion, her perfect smile. And all at once, I feel a hollowness in my stomach…something missing. It’s that something that no one—not my mom, or my dad, or even Dani—can fill. There is just something about Tess Turner that my soul gravitates to.
I’ve examined the chip. I know the memories—the times Tess and I were in love. All of that happened, it was solidified in time, until she erased her ability to see it. Can I still see it? Feel it? I have no idea. I just know that there is something absolutely intriguing about her, a feeling that I suspect will not leave me, in this lifetime—in this place in time.
I watch her, and it’s as if I am watching an old movie, the camera honing in on this one person, the rest of the picture fading away to b
lack. And it’s just her. Beautiful, mysterious, troubled Tess Turner. Someone who needs a person like me.
Then Dani smiles at me and winks and my heart seems to stop. How in the world will I ever resolve this aching, searing uncertainty in my heart?
By the end of the day, I have decided two things: One, I am going to play football like I’ve never played before. And two, I am going to talk to Tess. I don’t know how, but sometime before the night is over, I will get her alone and ask her if she remembers that night at her parents’ house. If nothing else, her recollection of it will provide some proof as to my messenger’s identity.
Turns out, my question will come up sooner than I imagined it would.
As I make my way out to my car after school, I notice Tess walking in the same direction. Dani is with the cheerleaders, doing a last minute rehearsal, and here I am, walking to my car, and Tess, it seems, is parked right next to me. I can feel my heart in my chest, my mind scrambling for the right words. I notice that she is looking at me.
We meet right in front of my car.
“Hey,” I say. “Is this your car?”
“My parents’ actually,” she replies, starting toward the door.
“Wait—I mean—I was wondering if I could ask you something.”
She pauses, turns back, and looks at me with some degree of apprehension. “Sure, what’s up?”
“Are you going to the game?”
“Yeah.” She shrugs. “But I’m not really that into football. What position do you play?”
“Quarterback.”
“And that means…what?”
“I basically run the team, lead the plays.”
“See, I told you I don’t know anything about football.”
“No, you said you weren’t that into football. There’s a difference.”
“Ok, well I don’t know much about it, and therefore, I’m not that into it.”
“Can’t argue with that logic.”
She smiles.
“Hey, I saw you and Cricket at the graveyard last Saturday.”
Tess groans. “Yeah, that was Cricket’s deal. Some English assignment.”
“Oh really? What sort of assignment?” I am intrigued.
“It was sort of a treasure hunt. Geocaching, actually.” She looks nervous, all of a sudden, glancing over her shoulder. A few seconds of silence seem to drag into minutes. “Anyway, good luck with the game tonight.”
“Ah. Hey—do you remember….me? I mean, from way back.”
“Way back…how way back do you mean? I have some—er—issues with memory, in case you didn’t hear.”
“Issues?”
“Yeah, after my run-in with the lightning. It sorta messed up my memory.”
“Really?” My palms are literally dripping with sweat, and Tess looks so adorable, I just want to grab her hands and take her into my arms. Wait—what am I thinking? I am seriously involved with Dani. And yet, there is something…compelling…about Tess Turner.
“My mom was telling me that our parents used to hang out together.”
“Really?” Tess looks around, slightly disinterested, or uncomfortable. “I don’t remember.”
“Yeah, I guess you and I used to play together when we were younger…” I am hoping for a spark in her eyes—something, anything, that she remembers.
“Cool. I’ve never heard my parents talk about that.”
“My dad died a few years ago. My mom and I were actually at his grave Saturday, planting flowers.”
“That’s cool.”
“Anyway, she just started telling me a bunch of old stories, and mentioned you and your parents.” I am starting to feel uncomfortable myself, unsure what to say next. My attempts to gain any sort of insight from Tess seem pointless, and she’s giving me a look that suggests she’s wondering where I’m going with all this. Should I continue or let it go? I certainly don’t want to scare her away, but I don’t want to let her get away, either. I decide to get her alone sometime tonight and pursue this conversation further. “All right, well I guess I’ll see you at the game then.”
“Sure, see you there,” she says, a bit too eager to leave.
I sit in my car for a few minutes, feeling suddenly mentally and physically exhausted. I know I need to get it together before the team meets for warm-up in an hour. I need to eat something, run by the house and change, get my uniform. I glance at my phone to check my email, almost hoping there will be another message, something that will give me a clue about what I’m supposed to be doing, how I’m supposed to feel, and what the future will hold.
In my inbox is a message from my mom. It says: I will be at the field right after work. Thinking of you. You are going to be spectacular! Love, Mom.
The only thing I need to do at this moment, is prepare myself to play football. Once the game is over, I can just relax and have a good time at the dance on Saturday, with my beautiful date. I may or may not have an opportunity to talk to Tess, but that’s ok. If it’s meant to be, that opportunity will present itself.
Tess
My phone rings. Cricket. I answer, “Hey. Did you have fun at the dentist?”
“I got a freakin’ cavity.”
“Nice. So you’ll never guess who I ran into after school….”
“Alex?”
“Zach Webb.”
“And…?”
“And we had an actual conversation. He started telling me how our parents used to hang out together—and we used to play together. He wanted to know if I remembered it.”
“Do you?”
“No. Of course not. I mean, I can barely remember what I did last week.”
“So why did he bring it up do you think?”
“He said he was planting flowers at his dad’s grave last weekend and his mom mentioned it.”
“Crap. Did he ask what we were doing at the graveyard? I mean, he had to see us.”
“Yeah, and I told him it was for your assignment.”
“Did you tell him the specifics? I mean, that it was his dad’s grave.”
“No, just that it was an assignment. Then I changed the subject.”
“To…?”
“I wished him luck at the game.”
“I still say there’s something going on. I mean, why Zach’s dad’s grave? And why did he casually run into you today and start asking you about all this stuff from the past? What’s up with that?”
“Who knows. He told me his dad died a few years back. Maybe he’s just feeling sentimental.”
“Or maybe something more….”
“Like what?” Leave it to Cricket to find connections among seemingly random events. “What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know yet. But I have a feeling that by Saturday night, we will.”
“How do you figure?”
“We just ask him. I mean, he already knows about the geocaching thing. Maybe we just ask him if he planted the messages.”
“No way, Cricket. He already thinks we’re psycho.”
“I doubt it. In fact, if he is our messenger, I’m guessing he will be fairly excited to learn that someone has deciphered his clues.”
“Crap. But what if he’s not? The messenger.”
“Then we just laugh it off and he thinks we’re even weirder than we are.”
“Great. Just what I need. Everyone already thinks I’m crazy or something.”
“No they don’t. What do you mean?”
“I mean, people know about my accident and they look at me like I’m a freak.”
“Correction. They don’t understand you. They feel for you. Most people think you’re pretty cool, and nice. Make that: Pretty. Cool. And nice.”
I smile. “Wow, really?”
“Really. And you are. All those things. Trust me. Your perception of what people think you are is based on your own insecurities. Take it from an objective point of view. Most people don’t even know you.”
“True. I guess I do keep to myself.”
“No,
you’re just different. You are a real person. And people who are real don’t usually waste their time on the stupid high school drama that consumes everyone else.”
Cricket—gotta love her straightforward approach to things. “I really hate drama.”
“Exactly. Which is why most people don’t get you. They are too wrapped up in the B.S. You are too deep for most people.”
“Thanks. I feel better. But Zach probably still thinks I’m a lunatic.”
“If I were guessing, I’d say just the opposite. Zach has a crush on you.”
I laugh out loud. “Yeah, right. Maybe I was wrong about you. You are seriously deluded. Hello! He’s in love with Dani…did you forget that part?”
“Hey, I call it like I see it. And right now, that’s what I see. If Zach Webb doesn’t seize an opportunity to talk to you Saturday night, I will personally denounce ice cream…and you know how much I like ice cream.”
“Whatever you say, Cricket. I’m gonna hold you to that, you know.”
“All right, what time should I pick you up for the game?”
“How about 6:00.”
Cricket is right on time and I’m ready to go. I’m glad to get out of the house for a few hours and be outside in the cool air. My mom calls from downstairs that she is here and gives me a pep talk on the way out the door. “I’m so proud of you,” she says. “You’re doing so well.”
As if I wouldn’t be? I know she’s been worried about me. I can only imagine what it’s been like, to deal with my drama. But, with my new attitude, I have to agree with her. “I have fun with Cricket. She’s cool,” I say, putting on my jacket.
Surfacing (Spark Saga) Page 9