Now You See Her

by Lisa Leighton

  “Yeah, sure . . . Um, thanks for the ride,” I respond, but Janie has already rushed away, possibly to cry. I need to find Mae. I have to warn her about the shadow man. I have no idea how I’m going to convince her to trust me, but I have to try. Maybe she knows something and maybe connecting those pieces will help me get my old life back. Because if there’s one thing I do know, it’s that I can’t muscle through lunch in the cafeteria as Sophie.

  “Sophie!” Jesus. It never stops. Even worse, it’s a shout that’s way too loud to ignore. Even for me. The girl has striking green eyes and a head full of wild, unruly hair she somehow manages to pull off. This time I stop walking. Brooke Rydell. I don’t know much about her besides the fact that she orbits Sophie like the sun. Brooke links her arm through mine and I see the two of us as kindergarteners, arm in arm, trailing behind our class on a nature walk. Just like that, she’s no longer a stranger. “Soph, we’ve been so worried. Did you get my messages? How are you feeling?” She looks me up and down and barely takes a breath. “OMG, what happened to your hair? Have you seen Zach? I heard he sent you flowers. Adorbs. When you were late this morning I thought maybe you’d be out again, but then Hayden Peterson said she saw you guys pull in. You haven’t been responding to any of your texts and you’ve missed so much. . . . Holy shit! Did Tyler and Winnie get back together?”

  Her eyes wander toward a couple full-on making out in the middle of the hallway. I think it’s pretty clear they did indeed get back together, but I stop myself before I say something Sophie might regret.

  I feel like this kid in a picture book Mae made everyone read on repeat when she was four—a kid who was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Only I’m pretty sure that little asshole wasn’t dealing with the ramifications of an inexplicable body swap.

  “Where’s Zach?” I manage, mostly because I don’t know what else to say.

  “He’s waiting by your locker. Duh.” Brooke takes a step back, still holding my arm. “But are you sure you’re okay? You know no one blames you, right? I keep thinking I could have been with you and you know how I never wear my seat belt and omigod it’s just hard for me to even think about so I can’t imagine what you’re going through. I called your house after you didn’t answer any of my texts, your mom said you were all better, so you’re better, right?” I’m not sure how she’s able to breathe through the litany of words and I wonder if she’s always like this.

  The sun glints off a tiny diamond stud in her ear and I feel another memory slip into its rightful place in Sophie’s brain.

  Janie’s flashlight catches on one of Brooke’s earrings.

  “Truth,” she whispers.

  “Borrring . . .” Janie drones, but she’s smiling when she says it. “Okay, okay, what’s your biggest disappointment?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that my dad has been cheating on my mom for years and all she ever does is talk shit about him and my brothers couldn’t be more excited at the possibility of two Christmases and parents fighting over us and trying to win our affection with freaking Xboxes or something. So yeah. That, I guess.” She tosses a handful of popcorn in her mouth and continues without missing a beat. “Your turn, Sophie.”

  “Dare,” I say, as always. I’ve never been very good with truths.

  Desperately, I try to call up a memory of sharing secrets at a sleepover from my own childhood. Nothing bubbles to the surface. No bright-pink sleeping bags, no microwave popcorn, no donuts for breakfast. There’s nothing. I have Mae and my mom, a few tennis teams, some acquaintances at school. It never seemed like a big deal that we didn’t do sleepovers, that we weren’t invited to birthday parties, that we never kept a toothbrush in a drawer at someone’s house. I was desperate to stay in Morristown because I didn’t want to leave, to have to be visible and new before I managed to find my way back under the radar. It takes a lot of time and effort to be ignored. But even just the brief glimpse into what I’ve been missing makes me feel a little sad.

  It’s too much. This is all just too much.

  “I think I need to find a bathroom,” I say. Brooke’s nose wrinkles and she says something about our sacred pact to never use school bathrooms, something I don’t hang around to hear. Instead I cross the hallway when there’s a break in the stream of students and search for the nearest exit. My hands land on cool metal and I’m almost free, away from the Janies and the Brookes and the questions and the narrow hallways overflowing with way too many memories that aren’t really mine when . . .

  “There you are, babe!”

  Zach.

  It has been approximately seven minutes since Janie and I walked through the doors and I’ve already had more contact with people than I’ve had since moving to Morristown three years ago. Each person brings a new memory, each memory steals another piece of me. I’d like to tell Zach to back the hell off, but it doesn’t sound like something Sophie would say to the guy who famously asked her to homecoming by arranging a freaking flash mob at the pep rally.

  “Oh, hey . . . you.” The words are forced and my smile is tight. Zach leans in for a kiss and I automatically recoil. I’ve never kissed a complete stranger and I can’t risk the ambush, the onslaught of private memories and feelings threatening to extinguish me piece by piece. His lips were aiming for my cheek, pressing against it dryly, so small victories.

  “Where are you going?” He falls into step beside me and wraps his clammy fingers around mine and I pull my hand away like a reflex.

  “I just need some air.” I rush ahead and push on the metal bar to the courtyard door just as first bell rings. I have to force myself not to react to the sound of that bell like one of Pavlov’s dogs. Sorry, Sophie. First period just isn’t a priority today. “You should go. I don’t want you to be late.”

  But he reaches across me to hold the door open instead. “You know I have Mr. Morgan first period. The guy barely has a pulse. I’ll keep you company.” He goes for my hand again, almost awkwardly, as a group of jersey-wearing guys head to class together. They walk backward, calling out, “Yo, Bateman, Kepner’s before practice?” or “You hear about Galligan’s this weekend?” or “Tateman’s DD” and again I’m a foreigner with one foot out the door.

  It occurs to me that he hasn’t even bothered to ask how I’m doing. We haven’t spoken since the accident. And besides the Zach Bateman flowers, there hasn’t been any contact. Maybe he sent a text, but I never responded. Why isn’t Sophie’s perfect, all-American boyfriend playing his perfect, all-American part and at least pretending to care? I let his hand drop away and he doesn’t try to hold mine again.

  “I actually need some space,” I say, stepping outside.

  I’ve accidentally slipped into Amelia and it shows on Zach’s face. Clearly he’s not used to being rejected. He blinks a few times and lets out a breathy-sounding laugh as though the joke’s on me.

  “Whatever, Sophie,” he grunts more than says. “Oh, and you’re welcome for the flowers.” Stepping back into the building, he lets the door slam behind him like the seventeen-year-old Casanova he is.

  Maybe Sophie would go running after him and try to convince him to stay, but I can’t stop a triumphant smile from finding its way to my lips.

  First, freedom. I head to my favorite spot on campus, a grove of trees off the parking lot on the western side. Mae and I always linger here as long as we can before school starts. She spends the rest of the day hanging out with her friends, but the mornings have always been ours. It’s like she knows I need extra time before I face everyone at school. But today the bench is empty and the sight of it creates a lump in my throat.

  “Sophie! Wait up!”

  I freeze, recognizing the voice. Sure enough, Landon Crane, the boy with the golden eyes, jogs over and falls in step beside me, a smug grin on his face. “You need me to kick Bateman’s ass, just say the word.” He makes a show of flexing, but it only accentuates his too-skinny arms and the fact that Zach could completely kick his ass in a fight.


  I laugh. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  Even though he’s treating me like his annoying little sister, I can’t stop my heart from swelling the tiniest bit. I wonder if it’s because he’s the last person I saw as Amelia before the accident.

  Who am I kidding? It’s more than that—I already like this boy. Maybe it’s because he always has his camera looped around his shoulder, like he’s worried that life will pass him by if he doesn’t capture it. Or maybe it’s because he’s the only person in Sophie’s world who doesn’t take himself too seriously.

  Landon’s friend is waiting for him by the door. “Yo, Landon, second bell.”

  He shifts to walk backward toward the school. “Hope it has nothing to do with any sensitive stomach flare-ups.” He raises his eyebrows, clearly making fun of Sophie and her lame family.

  God, I wish I could make fun of them too. I’d do just about anything to let myself in on the joke. I curse Mrs. Graham for referencing bowel issues because there are not a whole lot of witty comments I can make in regards to poop.

  “Nope. Everything is moving right along.”

  Oh my God. Did I really say that? Did I really imply that I’m pooping my brains out after eating those damn scones?

  A smile cracks his face, and he snorts out a surprised laugh.

  “Shit.” The word falls out of my mouth before I can stop it. Seriously, Amelia? Two unintentional poop jokes in under twenty seconds?

  Now he’s really laughing, and I can’t help but join in.

  “You’re funny, Sophie Graham. I forgot that you used to be funny.” He’s looking at me like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. “You coming?”

  It occurs to me for a second that it might be easy to go. Maybe I should follow, stop holding on so tightly, forget. That might be the key to getting back. Once that final sliver of Amelia is gone, I’ll shoot up in the hospital bed, save my family, and we’ll be safe again. But the possibility doesn’t ring true. The risk of letting Amelia slip away is too great, like some rare side effect to an experimental drug that could cure your cancer or cause a blood clot to travel up your leg only to explode when it finally gets to your heart. What would happen to Mae and my mom if I forgot to try to save them? What would happen to me? I shake my head and mumble something about study hall first period.

  “Okay, well . . . good luck then.” Landon runs his fingers through his shaggy hair as he turns around and pushes back into the school. I watch as he’s absorbed into his group of friends, consider his wide smile after he wished me luck. If only all of it were that easy.

  Fourteen

  I SPEND ALL PERIOD OUTSIDE AT THE PICNIC TABLE WRITING DOWN A list of things I know, details I can’t forget, trying to make sense of them. Maybe if I write the words down, they will magically form into some type of plan.

  september 19 storm

  black truck

  something silver. key chain? necklace? bracelet? do guys even wear jewelry?

  man, fit, strong

  sophie’s memories replace amelia’s?

  There’s no real rhyme or reason to the memories as they come, but the longer I’m Sophie, the faster they seem to come.

  kidnapper the key

  kidnapper knows our names

  I run Sophie’s delicate fingers over unfamiliar handwriting. It’s so strange to see the loopy, graceful letters flow from my brain onto a page. I have to admit, her handwriting is better than mine. If only the words on the page weren’t so scary. The bell for second period is about to ring and I’m still not anywhere closer to where I need to be—somehow there are more questions than answers. And then there’s Mae. He said both of our names. I have to warn her.

  I close the notebook and shove it back into Sophie’s bag beside her wallet. At first I’m just curious; it never even occurred to me to wonder how much cash Princess Sophie carried at any given time. But nothing could have prepared me for what I found. I count the twenties slowly, then the ones, and zip open the pocket to count her change. $103.72.

  It’s not like it’s the most money I’ve ever seen in my life or anything stupid like that. I worked hard. I bought my own car. In cash. But still, the thought of Sophie walking around with $103.72 in her wallet on a random Wednesday while Mae and I scrounged around for loose change to fill up my gas tank on a weekly basis feels like the biggest divide so far.

  But it might also be my biggest break.

  First bell rings for second period just as I pull open the door. The dull hum of students rushing off to class punctuates each step. I block out the noise. I have four minutes to get to Mae’s locker before she heads into her next class, so I have to hurry. I channel my normal self, eyes down, walk the edges, avoid any and all human interaction. It’s the most Amelia I’ve felt since I woke up this morning, and I’m loving every second of it.

  I see the beat-up shoes too late and collide with a body. The memory that comes with it is a burst of heat and vibration and energy that almost knocks me over. I remember unbuttoning his shirt, the feel of his chest.

  I expect Zach Bateman when I look up.

  I see Jake Radcliff.

  I check my fingers, still pure white and narrow, still Sophie. That’s weird. That can’t possibly be right. I had a huge crush on Jake as Amelia, despite his reputation. We shared study hall, and he surprised me with his hilarious portraits of the teacher, Mr. Ninny. When he asked me to homecoming, I think I was so surprised I forgot to say no. It was the first time I felt like anyone had ever noticed me and the first time I ever wanted to be noticed. Too bad it all ended like a terrible nineties movie with him bailing at the last minute via text while I was all dressed up in a secondhand dress with nowhere to go. My forehead wrinkles with the feeling of whiplash and I prepare to shove him out of the way. But before I can react, his eyes soften and his lips curve into a smile. What the hell?

  “I heard you were back.”

  I narrow my eyes. Jake and Sophie move in completely different social circles—hell, they’re in different hemispheres. Am I missing something? Before I can ask, he slips a note into my book bag and walks away without looking back. I think about reading the note, but there’s no time. Jake Radcliff can wait. I have to find Mae. There’s no point sitting around the hospital all day, so unless something horrible has happened, she’ll be here.

  I turn down Junior Row and scan the hallway for my sister’s brown hair and freckled cheeks. She’s just shut her locker when she spots me in the hall.

  “Mae!” I know I have to warn her. I have to make her understand that she’s in danger, but somehow when I run to her, all I can think about is all the other stuff. How much I miss her and my mom. How much it hurt to have her look at me in the hospital but not really see me. I need to tell her that we were wrong about so many things. We used to sit up all night and wonder what it would be like to live like the Sophie Grahams of the world. Secure in big houses with alarm codes, a mom who stayed home every day and folded laundry and cooked dinner and a dad who gave her a kiss after work. We fantasized about living in the same place forever, clichéd lives with white picket fences and happily ever afters. We dreamed of closets full of new clothes and perfect lives. We were sure that we’d be happy if we had all those things, all that stuff.

  But we were wrong.

  I realize it now in this moment, staring at my sister through a stranger’s eyes. Sophie’s house is big and cold and empty in spite of all the stuff they try to fill it with. There’s no one she can crawl into bed with when she can’t sleep at night, no one she can match the rhythm of her breathing with in order to banish bad dreams. There’s no sister so close they’re practically twins. There’s just a house. Full of stuff. Inhabited by people who seem more like roommates than a family. My throat aches with every pent-up emotion, all the tears I haven’t had the space to shed. I want Mae. I need my sister.

  If only it were that easy. Mae’s poker face is nonexistent. She blinks through confusion first and then moves quickly into pure, hot
anger. Because I’m the five-foot-nothing girl with bird bones and weird eyes who almost killed her sister. How could I forget?

  As much as I want to wrap my arms around her and blurt out this whole insane story, I stop myself short. I have to stick to the plan. I need to get Mae to trust me.

  “I know I’m the last person you want to see right now. But I’m here to help.”

  Mae’s brown eyes are wild and stragglers who haven’t made it to class yet stop to stare. “Help?” I don’t even recognize her voice. I tell myself it’s because of the anger, not because she sounds different to Sophie’s ears. Not because I’ve forgotten the sound of my own sister’s voice. “You don’t even know me and now you’re here to help?”

  “Look, you might not know this, but Amelia and I have been getting closer.”

  Mae snorts, and I almost lose my nerve.

  “I mean, not like best friends or anything, but she told me that you guys might be moving and about your mom always getting transferred and all that stuff.”

  “There’s no way she’d ever tell you any of that.” But I see a flicker of doubt soften her features just for a second. She couldn’t really argue because I did know this stuff. And it’s not like it’s common knowledge. The only possible way Sophie could know any of this is if Mae’s sister had confided in her.

  “Well, she did. And I can’t even imagine what you guys are going through . . . after everything.” I might break in half saying these words, so I continue before I lose my courage. “Some of the girls on the tennis team pooled their money together and we want you to have it.” I offer her the bills and loose change with a shaky hand.

  Horror twists her features as her eyes flick around the hallway to see if anyone’s heard. “We don’t need your money,” she whispers, the breathy words laced with venom. I feel miniature in front of my lanky sister. We always complained about our height, hated towering over most of the girls and a lot of the boys too. But we were wrong. Being short is awful. I feel like a little gnat that Mae’s going to swat away.