Keep Me in Mind

by Jaime Reed

  Ellia leaned close to me and asked, “Hair spray?”

  “Eighties Day. Glam-rock hair bands. Pyrotechnics. Fire marshal,” I whispered.

  “This year, we’ll have to play it a bit safer but still be awesome. The grand prize is next to impossible to win, so it’s best to go for the class prize.” When the groans died down, Stacey continued, “I know, I know, but we have better odds this way and we all get a piece of the pie. I, for one, could use a free homework pass. How about you?”

  While the other girls bickered among themselves, Ellia leaned in and whispered, “Homework pass?”

  “It’s like a get-out-of-jail-free card. If the juniors win this year, each student is allowed one per class subject. That boring book report, that tedious class project, that stupid take-home quiz—boom! No work, no penalty.”

  “Wow,” she whispered in awe.

  “Stacey didn’t tell you about the Decades Celebration?” I asked.

  “Yeah. But I didn’t know about the prizes. Makes me want to compete.”

  “You just might win.” I winked at her.

  She gave me a slight grin, causing the apple of her cheeks to plump up. She shied away from my gaze and began playing with her hair. Her customary scarf wrapped around the front of her head, leaving a cloud of curls to tumble past her shoulders. With the exception of the fading bruise on her forehead, no one could tell that she’d had an accident, and her headbands always matched her outfit. Today it was green.

  Our heads turned as the argument around us escalated in volume.

  “That’s not gonna work,” Trish singsonged. “The rules state that there can only be five students in a group theme, and they all have to be in the same grade.” She turned to Ellia. “Since Ellia doesn’t go to our school anymore, she can’t participate this year.”

  “She doesn’t have to compete, but she can still participate, especially at the dance,” Nina chimed in.

  “The Nineties Dance on Friday, sure, but no other school activity. Do you really want to risk being disqualified? Again?” Trish arched a brow at Stacey in defiance.

  “That’s the least of your problems.” Wade dislodged his lips from Kendra’s long enough to join the discussion. “The sophomores already stole your idea for Eighties Day. I heard a couple of girls talking about it on Thursday during the fire drill. The Bangles are off the table.”

  This was the rare occasion where Wade’s nosy side came in handy. If this were a heist movie, he would be the intel guy that waited in the van with headphones.

  The room erupted in a gasp, and I rolled my eyes. Nina glanced around the group as if in search of the leak in our operation.

  “No!” Trish wailed. “I ordered my Egyptian costume a month ago and I am not about to lose this year to a bunch of underlings.”

  “Everyone, just calm down.” Stacey brought the meeting back to order. “We still have two days to come up with something for Eighties Day.”

  “What about The Breakfast Club?” Kendra offered.

  “The seniors did that freshman year. It’s too easy. The judges will expect that.” Stacey stroked her chin in contemplation. “We may have to ditch the group theme altogether. I can pull off a quick Cindy Lauper. With the right makeup, Wade can be Boy George and Liam can be George Michael.” She turned to me. “How fast can you grow a five o’clock shadow?”

  “Actually, I wasn’t planning on participating this year.”

  Silence. Six pairs of eyes gaped at me in astonishment.

  “What?” I shrugged. “I’m just not into it this year.”

  “But we need you for one of the guy roles,” Stacey whined.

  “Don’t worry—he’ll do it.” Trish snickered. “Ellia only needs to bat her eyes and he’ll be right on board.”

  Ellia shifted in her seat and shielded her face with her hands. What made this situation even worse was that no one argued the point. It was a forgone conclusion that I would just do whatever Ellia said. Was I really that predictable? Was I really that weak?

  “Hold on. Why do I have to be Boy George?” Wade piped up.

  “Is anyone else going to touch that one?” Nina asked the group.

  “You got a problem with my man?” Kendra slid from Wade’s lap then squared off with her rival. How those two had stayed best friends for this long remained a mystery.

  The meeting fell into complete chaos after that. Names were called, threats were issued, and this was just a preview of the Decades madness. The celebration itself wouldn’t start for another week.

  Ellia, who had been a silent observer until this point, leapt to her feet. “Hey!”

  The room went quiet and all eyes landed on her.

  “I’ve been doing a little research of my own. Your ideas are good, Stace, but you don’t have to stick to just movies or musicians. What about cartoons?”

  Nina removed her hands from around Kendra’s neck and listened with intrigue. “Go on.”

  Ellia pulled out her phone and after a series of clicks showed the image to the group. “Four words. Jem and the Holograms.”

  A wave of oohs and aahs echoed, and the girls huddled around Ellia’s phone.

  “It’s pretty simple. Kendra, you’ll need a purple wig, but you can be Shana on bass guitar. Nina, with a blue wig, you can be Aja. Trish, your red hair would make you a shoo-in for Kimber on the keyboard. And of course, Stacey would be Jem. There’s even a boy character for Wade, too.” Ellia scrolled down whatever web page she found, and the girls squealed and clapped in delight.

  “Okay. I can take care of the hair and makeup, but outfits are gonna be tricky.” Stacey looked at Ellia, fear and worry etching lines into her forehead. “I know you can’t participate this year, but do you think you’re up for the challenge?” she asked.

  Ellia stood straight, her chin up. Her face hardened with determination as she snarled, “Bring it.”

  The meeting wrapped up around three. I wanted to talk to Ellia alone, but I had a feeling she was avoiding me. She promptly left the cottage with Nina and Stacey and they disappeared into the main house. Finally, I found her outside the front porch, leaning against the railing.

  “Hey, do you need a ride?” I asked her.

  “Nope. I’m good. I caught a ride with Stacey.”

  I figured as much, but Stacey and promptness didn’t run in the same circles. I glanced inside the main house, where I could hear Stacey laughing with Nina and Kendra about some reality show. “It doesn’t look like she’s leaving anytime soon. Come on, I’ll drop you off.” I trotted down the steps, expecting Ellia to follow, but she remained standing on the porch.

  “That’s okay. I’ll wait,” she said. “Today’s the first time I’ve seen you and Stacey interact,” she added. “Hilarious. Are you two close?”

  “I plead the fifth. She tolerates me and I do likewise,” I replied.

  She nodded but looked clearly bugged by something. When I asked what was wrong, she dismissed me with a fervent head shake.

  “No, seriously. What’s wrong?” I pressed.

  “I just … ” Her head turned toward the house then back to me. “Are they right about you? Do you let me boss you around? I don’t like the idea of having that much power over anyone.”

  “Ellia, I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. Being with you happens to be one of those wants.”

  Ellia strolled along the grass with the grace of a dancer. “Listen here, Liam James McPherson,” she said when she reached my side. “You live life on your own terms. Don’t let anyone—not even a girl—keep you on a leash. I don’t care how fabulous and awesome she is, no one is worth forgetting who you are.”

  I grinned at her humble self-assessment. “What if she helps me remember who I am?”

  “Then your memory is worse than mine.” She laughed, and I did as well. When we were quiet again, her warm eyes peered up at me. “What do you really want, Liam?”

  We stared at each other for what felt like days, standing toe-to-toe, face-to-face. O
ur chests rose and fell with synchronized breaths. I could grab her and kiss her. I could. My lips felt raw and parched for something water couldn’t quench.

  I closed the space between us. My thumb brushed her cheek then tilted her head toward mine. She watched me, curious and a little anxious, but she didn’t pull away when I leaned in. Her body relaxed as my lips landed on her forehead and lingered a moment just over her scar.

  When I pulled away, she wore a stunned expression. Little did she know that I was just as shocked as she was. I should have given her a real kiss, but I knew she wasn’t ready.

  “Good luck with the costumes,” I said, walking away. “I know you’ll do an awesome job. Talent outlasts any memory.” I climbed into my car, leaving her standing and staring on the pavement.

  * * *

  At home, Dad was in one of his home improvement moods, which usually led to more destruction than refurbishment. The sawdust on the kitchen floor and the absence of cabinet doors were the latest casualties. The band saw whirred as I quietly climbed out of the car, crept past the garage and into the house. Then I dashed upstairs in case Dad decided to put me to work.

  I sat down in my swivel desk chair. I could still hear the buzz of the saw but suddenly it inspired me. The world ended at my locked door and began at my fingers on the keyboard. Death metal raged through my earbuds and words chased the cursor on the screen and gathered the outpouring of memories …

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  I woke up to a buzzing sound by my ear. I cracked my eyes a sliver and tried to follow the sound. After clumsy searching, I found my phone tangled in the covers, but whatever moron was calling me at eight in the morning on a Saturday had hung up.

  There was a notification that I’d missed two calls and had three text messages. They were all from Ellia. I sat up and immediately called her back. “Hey, where are you?” she asked before I could even speak.

  “In bed. Like normal people. Where are you?” I asked.

  “I’m pulling up to your house now. Come outside. I don’t want to wake everyone.”

  The request posed a dilemma for me. Fulfilling it meant getting up, leaving my warm, cozy bed, finding jeans and a shirt, brushing my teeth, and going downstairs to open the door. None of these things appealed to me.

  “Stop thinking about it and come down. This is important.”

  “Fine. Give me five minutes.” I hung up, did a roll-crawl combo out of bed, and headed to the bathroom.

  Five minutes later, I opened the door to see Ellia, perky and bright-eyed, standing on my porch. I invited her in, but she declined. Whatever she wanted to tell me had to be serious, considering how she kept pacing back and forth in front of the door. I braced myself for the worst.

  “Okay, here’s the thing.” She checked her phone for the time. “It’s 8:02 on a Saturday and I’m in love with you.”

  I stared blankly at her, uncertain if I was dreaming this or not.

  “So yeah,” she continued, still pacing. “I love you. I’m telling you now because at exactly 5:28 this morning, I woke up with that awareness and I knew I had to tell you. ’Cause honestly, I never felt … It feels weird and exciting and I’m scared and it’s okay because that’s how people act when facing a phenomenon, like a UFO or Bigfoot. But I can’t capture this on film. I have to tell someone or else it doesn’t exist. And who better to tell than the person it’s about, so … there it is. It’s out there in the ether. Ignore it, reject it, or explore it, but you are now accountable for that reality, too.” She checked her phone again. “It’s now … 8:04 and I still love you. And I don’t think it’s going away.”

  “Did you rehearse this before you came here?” I asked her.

  “Just on the drive over,” she confessed. “So what are your thoughts?”

  “My—my thoughts?” I stammered. “My thoughts are that … I love you, too.”

  And then I pulled her to me and kissed her. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pressing her close as her fingers tangled themselves in my hair. After a minute, I leaned back, but not too much because distance hurt. Her expression mirrored mine, and the question in her sleepy brown eyes was the same one I asked aloud. “So, what happens now?”

  * * *

  I leaned back in my seat and read the last line three times. That question was much more of a mystery now.

  But it wasn’t for me to answer. Ellia had set the rules, and I promised I’d abide by them to my best ability. She had to be the one to make the first move. If that look on her face after the forehead kiss meant anything, this tug-of-war raged on from both sides, not just mine.

  Well, Vivian, what do you think I should do?” I glanced up at her. A red flannel shirt was tied at her waist, exposing her flat stomach and frayed cut-off jean shorts. The braided, pigtailed wig finished off the cowgirl look I was aiming for. Hands on hips, she remained locked in a vacant daze that reached across the room.

  I surveyed my wrecked bedroom. Patterns and cloth lay everywhere in a mosaic of chaos. I may have bitten off more than I could chew. The Jem costumes were indeed “truly outrageous,” but they were also a pain to replicate. I uploaded every picture I could find online and watched old episodes of the show to get inspiration and I still felt overwhelmed. I’d been sewing since I was eight years old. I never thought I could make a career out of it, but now the idea held more possibility. Hours of my day had been eaten alive by this project and I hadn’t even noticed.

  My gaze landed on the clock by my bed and I jumped. I was late for my tutoring session.

  “Mom!” I raced out of my room and into my parents’ bedroom down the hall.

  Mom was sitting on her side of the bed with the phone to her ear. Whatever was making her giggle like a schoolgirl lost its humor once she saw me.

  She covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “What is it, baby?”

  “My tutoring session starts in twenty minutes. Who are you talking to?”

  “Just a friend from work” was her instant reply. “What on earth are you wearing?”

  I looked down at my outfit. Getting in touch with my inner eighties girl, I wore black tights, neon-green leg warmers, and a ripped blue shirt that hung off my shoulder. Maybe I was being extra with the theme, but I thought I looked cute.

  “Mom, I’m gonna be late. Can you drop me off, please?”

  She covered the phone again and leveled me with the “mom stare,” which had a built-in heat ray. “Ellia, do you not see me on the phone? Go ask your father.”

  “Whatever,” I murmured under my breath.

  “What was that?” It was a challenge rather than a question.

  “Nice sweater,” I said, then went downstairs to search for the man of the house.

  Ambling through the kitchen, I snatched a banana from the fruit bowl on the counter and moved to the door leading to Dad’s home office. Sometimes I wouldn’t see him all day, only in passing on the way to the kitchen or to the bathroom.

  No one was allowed to even cross the threshold of Dad’s sanctuary. I poked my head inside and found him seated behind his drafting table by the window. “Hey, Daddy,” I called out.

  He spun around in his chair and smiled. “Hey, sweetie. What are you up to?”

  “Class. Can you drive me to my session?”

  “Ask your mother.”

  Oh my god! Every time. Every time I wanted to go somewhere or do something, I got the same runaround. Could I for once get a straight answer from someone? I drew in a deep breath to reel in my frustration. “Mom’s busy on the phone. I really want to get there sometime this week.”

  He eyed me carefully. “You take your medicine?”

  Uh-oh. I totally forgot. I showed him the banana in my hand. “That’s why I got some food. Can’t take it on an empty stomach.”

  He didn’t buy that excuse for a minute. “Ellia, if you ever plan to get better, then you need to keep consistent. Your medicine is too expensive for you to take whenever you feel like it. I know you hate the side effects, but
this is for your own good.”

  Isn’t everything for my own good? I wanted to say, but that would kick off another argument that I didn’t have time for. “Daddy, I’m gonna be late.”

  Thankfully, Mom came to my rescue and we set out five minutes later, but not without a ton of shade thrown by both parents. This led to me having more questions than I knew what to do with, so on the drive to Serenity Health, I started with something simple: “Are you and Dad okay?” I asked.

  Mom glanced at me from the corner of her eye as if it was a stupid question. “Of course. There are a few rough patches that need ironing out, but we’ll be fine.”

  Denial. Dr. Kavanagh mentioned something about that in therapy a few weeks back. Though she was referring to me accepting permanent memory loss, it might apply here, too. “Mom—”

  “It’s all right, Ellia. The moment it isn’t, you’ll be the first to know,” she said, rendering the subject closed.

  I knew things were strained between my parents, but the unknown reason behind the tension had me thinking the worst. My medical bills were hurting their wallets and increasing the hours Dad spent working. That picture-perfect image wasn’t looking so flawless anymore, and nothing broke up relationships quicker than money.

  I decided to postpone my freak-out until the custody trial. I prepared for another session of math I’d probably never use after high school. Anything was better than being stuck in the house with two stiff shirts. They sucked all life out of the room.

  But Denise had no luck keeping my attention for longer than five minutes. The lesson didn’t even penetrate the brain—it went in and out the same ear as I drew doodles in my workbook. I told her about the Decades Celebration that started next week, and we spent the last hour of the session discussing nineties nostalgia. She was really into some chick named Blossom.

  After my session, I left the learning center and found Cody nestled into one of the beanbags in the sitting area. He stared blankly out the window.