Scattered Ashes

by Dona Sarkar

  En route to first period, I made a point to stride past Kendall Chang and Candace Littlefoot, people I had considered my closest friends, but like Jason, they had completely cut me out of their lives after The Incident. Kendall was a beautiful Chinese-American girl who was extraordinarily thin and worked very hard to stay that way. Candace was half Native American and celebrated her heritage with a new tattoo every year. She was showing off her latest, a series of poetic-looking words on her inner wrist, when I passed them. They paused, looked me up and down, and then resumed their conversation about how all makeup remover should be alcohol-free.

  I smiled as I took my assigned seat in calculus. Today was a new beginning. I was going to be my old self, and everyone needed to be ready for it. I’d done it before, and I could do it again.

  The first day of freshman year, I’d appeared at school in one of Lana’s Michael Kors outfits while the other girls in my class were still retiring their Barbies and giggling about sophomore boys. Everyone had been excited to sit with me at lunch, and nothing had changed since until last month.

  “. . . looking almost normal . . .” I heard Kendall’s overly high-pitched voice as she and Candace took their seats behind me.

  That was me they were speaking of. I knew the game well. Hell, I’d practically invented it. One day someone was the star of the senior class; the next, they were the primary topic of gossip, a persona non grata. It was classic teen movie fodder.

  “Almost. But not yet!” Candace giggled.

  I turned around in my seat.

  They both smirked at me.

  “Ladies,” I acknowledged both of them with a nod.

  Candace suddenly looked uncertain in the face of my bravado, while Kendall continued to stare at me challengingly.

  “You’re both looking gorgeous this morning,” I said in my most silky voice, earning surprised and then pleased looks from both.

  “Kendall, love how you’re rocking those eighties jeans. Acid-wash is so . . . you,” I tossed behind me as I turned around, laughing at the expressions on their faces.

  What had they been expecting me to do? Slink off and hide forever?

  “I like your shoes,” the arrival of a husky voice behind me took me by surprise. Jason was many things; early to class generally was not one of them. His breath on the back on my neck assured me I wasn’t imagining him there.

  “You better get in your seat.” I barely turned around, my cheeks flushing. I was fully aware that every pair of eyes in the room was trained on me. In my mind, I was fourteen years old again and Jason was asking me to the spring dance.

  “Or what?” he whispered back.

  I glanced back to see him practically sparkling with his spiky blond hair and cerulean blue eyes. He radiated light, laughter, familiarity. He was my Jason again.

  “Ms. Nguyen will mark you absent,” I said in my most threatening voice. “She’s not kidding about her little rule.”

  Ms. Bree Nguyen, The Dragon, was not only my father’s mentor and oldest friend from the Army Reserves, but also the most fearsome teacher at Lakeville High. She’d been one of the first women in the reserves in the state of Washington, and Dad had enormous respect for her. I always thought this relationship was fairly ironic since my father was a quintessential man’s man and thought women needed protection. He’d told me many times that if I needed anything while he was gone, I could call on her, but I never had; it felt too strange, her being my calculus teacher and all. Plus, she kept telling me to call her “Bree”, but I couldn’t bear to call my calculus teacher something that sounded like French cheese.

  “I’ll risk The Dragon. So where are we going Friday night?”

  “I have plans for Friday.”

  “What plans?”

  “I need to go . . . somewhere.” I felt my smile disappear. He wouldn’t understand, and I wasn’t going to tell him. He hadn’t earned that yet.

  “Saturday then. Or Sunday. Both. Dinner, then a movie, or a movie, then dinner? There’s a bunch of new movies at Lincoln—”

  “Mr. Moorehouse!” the tiny, black-haired Dragon of the math department had arrived with her customary mug of green tea in hand. “If you are not in your seat before I finish this sentence, you will be marked absent. Detention, truancy, the full football field. Are those terms you can under—”

  Jason bolted into his second-row seat, turning around to wink in my direction, earning yet another glare from Mrs. Nguyen.

  I felt myself smile again. He had been horrible to me, but he was predictable. Getting me to go out with him was apparently worthy of utilizing class-clown tactics. I didn’t understand why he was doing this, but did understand that at least talking to me again was important to him. Candace also smiled in my direction, which I ignored.

  Have you seen Mars today? She looks gorgeous. Jason was flirting with her in calc like crazy. What do you think’s going on? Candace would say to everyone she ran into after class.

  I hoped anyway.

  * * *

  I headed to the school library during lunch, along with a group of nervous freshmen. I was getting braver, but still, facing the cafeteria tables full of curious or unwelcoming faces wasn’t something I was mentally prepared to handle yet. Besides, I enjoyed being the mysterious one, letting them all wonder where I was.

  I perused the shelves of the weekly book sale for something new, something old, something long-forgotten. Today’s selections were an unread Amy Tan novel, the often-read One Hundred Years of Solitude, and my childhood favorite, Little Women. My usual pattern was to take three books into the back corner behind the deserted Civil War section and sneak half a breadstick or fruit for lunch. This routine was something I’d started doing only this past month.

  “What are you doing here?” I was startled when I saw someone had already claimed my corner. I hadn’t meant for it to sound as snappy as it did, but my surprise had gotten the best of me.

  Jason was sprawled against the lowermost shelf, head resting on his backpack. “What are you doing here?” he asked, crossing his arms above his head and staring up at the brilliant fluorescence of the ceiling lights. “This is my secret spot.”

  “How did you know where to find me?” I answered the question with a question as I settled in beside him on the floor, kind of wanting him to go away. This was my time to think and reflect. He had no right to stalk me, though it was mildly flattering.

  “Are these for class?” he ignored my question in return, sitting up straight and turning his knees so they were facing mine. He picked up my book selections, making me self-conscious as he read the back covers.

  “These are missing from my dad’s collection. I’m going to buy them for him.” I left out the fact that being surrounded by so many of them reminded me of the sanctuary of my own room, a sanctuary I couldn’t find anywhere else in the school.

  “Oh.”

  Ask about him, I wanted to say but refrained. I’d learned very quickly over the past month that uttering every single thought out loud wasn’t always so well-received.

  “You’re doing it again.”

  “What?” I raised my gaze to meet his. He was practically glaring at me.

  “Tell me what’s going on in your head. Who do you talk to? You’re not hanging out with your friends anymore.”

  “That’s a bad thing?” I winced as soon as the words left my mouth. Of course it was a bad thing. Being an outcast was never a good thing. “I hang out with Erica and now Chad.”

  “Mars, we never did talk about what happened.”

  “Yes, because you didn’t want to. You couldn’t deal with such ‘heavy stuff’ in high school, remember?”

  “I want to apologize. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

  Ah, the conditional apology. He was sorry my feelings were hurt. He was not sorry for his actions. Of course not; why should he apologize for being a coward?

  “Why? It’s not your problem, remember?” I pulled my knees closer to myself. He’d made the fact that I was
alone in this abundantly clear.

  “I was stupid. I wasn’t there for you. I got scared that I wouldn’t be able to help you in your, you know, situation.”

  I rolled my eyes. My situation?

  “Just so you know, I did not try to kill myself. I did not need for you to be my psychiatrist. I just needed you to be around. To talk. Or not talk. Nothing more.”

  “I know, Mars, I heard the rumors, and I just—”

  Of course, the rumors. The stories had ricocheted like a possessed boomerang. I’d tried to take my own life with a knife, Lana had me committed, I’d gone to prison for throwing a bourbon bottle at her; none of them were true, of course. We didn’t even have bourbon in our house.

  Jason sat quietly, and I held my breath as a librarian peeked around the corner and looked satisfied that we weren’t up to anything too scandalous. I observed his hands lying flat on the ground, smoothing the ugly beige carpet, and remembered wishing he would engulf me in his arms on that horrible day. I hated being alone and wished he would’ve just been there by my side.

  I could feel myself spiraling into the dark place. The hopeless place. I gripped the carpeting on the floor, grounding myself.

  Pull it together. You’re fine.

  I couldn’t let Jason see what I was going through. I was not going to crumple in front of him again, would not give him the opportunity to swoop in with heroics to make up for what he’d done.

  “I’ve been thinking about you this whole month. I knew I was wrong. I haven’t been able to sleep at night since we—You have every right to be furious with me,” Jason said, bringing me back to the present. “I hope you can forgive me. I’m sorry.”

  Could I? Maybe.

  “I’ll earn back your trust, Mars. I’ll do whatever it takes. Believe me. We will be together again.”

  “I don’t know,” I replied as honestly as I could. “You were pretty harsh.”

  Jason looked wistful. “Do you remember the night of the blackout?”

  I did. We’d been seeing each other for over a month, and nothing other than chaste kisses had happened between us. All of my other friends had boyfriends who sent them love letters and snuck into their rooms at midnight. Jason never did any of those things.

  “We were sitting on your porch with the only candle you had in your house slowly disappearing between us,” he said. “That was the first night I told you I loved you, and you said, ‘I know.’ ”

  I hadn’t known that he felt that way, but I had needed to act overconfident so he didn’t realize how much he’d thrilled me with those words.

  “You didn’t say them back.” Jason was smiling at me now.

  “I did eventually.” I remember those days well. I’d held back as much I could, playing it cool, not wanting anyone to know how crazy I was about Jason.

  “Yeah, not till that summer almost! It was that day you taught me to make stained-glass windows in my backyard. We were listening to the World Cup soccer match on the radio. You were rooting for France only because you spoke the language.”

  I laughed. “Yes, and when France won, I said . . .”

  “Thanks for sitting through that. No wonder I love you.”

  Exactly.

  “See? I remember everything.” He smiled smugly now.

  We stared at each other for a second. Did he understand what I was going through? I didn’t think so, but at least he pretended to. The bell rang, interrupting anything that was about to happen.

  My cheeks burned at Jason’s lingering hand on my waist as he helped me to my feet. I closed my eyes, relishing his warm skin, his sweet aftershave, the familiarity. The human contact was so welcome; I didn’t want to pull away.

  “Mars?”

  “Let’s go.” I reluctantly gathered my belongings, still feeling flushed at where my thoughts had been headed.

  “How did you know where to find me? Did you follow me?” I asked as I led Jason out of the Civil War corner.

  Jason smiled, holding the library door open for me. “While that’s very romantic in a stalker-ish way, I didn’t. Erica told me you like to hang here during lunch. She also says you haven’t returned her text message. Better get on that.”

  “I will.”

  “Sure you have to attend that SAT course thing? I already got my acceptance into the U. I can help you study.” The back of Jason’s hand touched mine as we wove through the hallways, taking the long route. It looked completely natural to everyone else, I suppose, like things returning to normal. Everyone remembered our romantic “Class Couple” pose in the yearbook, Jason scooping me up into his arms, gazing into my eyes, romance-novel style.

  “Thanks,” I said, “but I’m already registered. Besides, I’m pretty sure my instructor is more qualified than you.” I wanted it to sound teasing, but it came out harsh.

  Jason stopped walking as we entered the main corridor and pulled me into him, his shoulder pressing against mine. All around us students opened and closed doors, gossiped, fixed their hair. Every one of them openly stared at us, and Jason stared at no one but me. My breath caught as he gently touched my cheek and brushed away a strand of hair, his nearness distracting and disturbing all at once.

  “I’m not giving up.”

  Then he was gone.

  I walked to my next class aware of the looks my classmates were directing my way. Smiling. Jason had made me accepted again. No matter what was happening between us, I had to give him that. He knew that by almost kissing me in public, others would realize that the old Mars was back. I had underestimated him; he knew the game as well as I did, maybe better.

  * * *

  As I entered my favorite class of the day, AP Psychology, my favorite petite, blond energy orb accosted me in the doorway. “You’re avoiding me.”

  “I most certainly am not.” I stopped short. The big difference between Erica Esteban and everyone from before The Incident was the fact that there was no drama. I could be in whatever mood I wanted to be in around her—talkative, not talkative. There was never any judgment or questions. She and I had become best friends back in third grade when we had been in the same tap-dancing class together. We used to have sleepovers and ice-skating parties every weekend, but those had dwindled once we went to separate middle schools. Now, back in the same high school, we had rekindled our friendship as if the past eight years had never happened.

  “Chad, is she lying?” Erica grinned and curved into her boyfriend, who removed his earphones. “She ran away from me after our therapy session and hasn’t called since.”

  I felt that familiar twinge as I watched Chad catch Erica as she fell backward into his arms. They’d been a couple through all of high school, never apart for more than a weekend. I had never seen two people more in sync with one another’s thoughts and actions. They had some kind of crazy pact that they would always be brutally honest with each other and the other person could never get mad at the truth. I’d never had that kind of relationship with anyone, not even Jason. I wondered if it was even possible, given all the messed-up thoughts I always had.

  Chad Winters, lanky pseudo-mystic, wrapped his arms around Erica’s twenty-four-inch waist while leaning them both forward to gaze deeply into my eyes. “Yes, she is definitely lying.”

  “Chad is a lie detector, and lie detectors detect, well, lies. What’s going on, Mars?” Erica’s fast talking and fast topic changing were things I loved about her. Today was no exception. “You look really good today, by the way. Doesn’t she, Chad?”

  “Yes. Really damn good. But that is not an answer that’s going to keep me out of trouble here, so I’m no longer listening.” Chad whipped a cell phone out of the pocket of his hooded sweatshirt and became extremely busy fiddling with the many buttons.

  “Chad is not a human lie detector.” I had to laugh. “And nothing is going on. I’ve just had a really weird day.”

  Erica followed me to my usual seat in the back of the classroom and plopped down in front of me.

  “Good weir
d. Or just weird-weird?” She twirled a strand of pink hair peeking out from under her veil of blond curls. Erica was one of those rare personalities who refused a role in any clique or group. She was gorgeous, funky, kind, and smart enough to be in the running for valedictorian. It was odd to have someone like that in our otherwise disconnected high school.

  The truth was, I kind of hated her sometimes because she refused to gossip about our peers the way I was used to. She hardly ever told me what people were saying about me. She made me feel petty and small on such occasions.

  “Both brands of weird. Guess what Lana’s doing?” I filled her in on how I discovered that Lana was dating off of a website.

  Erica shook her head. “Lana, I swear. She’s like someone’s ditzy older sister. No offense.”

  “None taken. But you have to agree, whatever issues you have with your mom, at least you don’t have to worry she’s going to start sneaking out of the house in your miniskirts.” This actually was a valid concern of mine, given that everyone always said Lana and I looked like sisters.

  “Well, at least Lana can pull it off; she’s not obese like my mother!”

  “Irrelevant!” I gave her a look.

  Erica must have felt sorry for me because she divulged a rare bit of gossipy information. “Everyone thinks you’ve lost weight. And people love your shoes. Also, Kendall wants info about what was going on between you and Jason during calc. She’s asking everyone, even me.”

  “Hmm, she can go ahead and ask me if she cares so much,” I replied indifferently. “Honestly, she should probably pursue some interests of her own rather than being so overly interested in my life.”

  Though I sounded very neutral, I was extremely pleased to hear that my former friends were still fascinated by me. It was as I suspected; they had nothing else to talk about.

  “Ugh, I predict you’ll be back to hanging with them and ignoring me within a week.” Erica rolled her eyes and spun around in her chair.

  “Hey!”

  She turned and grinned to show she wasn’t serious, though I suspected there was some element of truth to what she said. Erica and I hadn’t become close again until I’d lost my other friends, including Lana. She’d been a really good shoulder for me the past few weeks, and I wasn’t going to cut her out of my life like she was convinced I was doing.