Then there was his mother. He knew she loved him and meant well, but how could she hope to offer him hope for the future when she was so hopeless and downtrodden herself? Together, the two women had spent a lifetime making Dexter think he didn’t deserve anything better than what he had. The saddest part was how completely he’d believed it.
But that was the old Dexter, he told himself firmly as he reached the bottom of the steps. The new Dexter knows better. All I have to do is remember that.
Daisy was waiting in the dorm lobby, dressed in pink-and-white-striped pants and a sleeveless white blouse that showed off her slim, tanned arms. “Hey, cutie,” she greeted him, tilting back her head for his kiss. “Ready to go? I’m famished.”
Two hours later, after a leisurely lunch at an off-campus eatery, Dexter and Daisy strolled across the college green hand in hand, enjoying each other’s company and the warmth of the Indian-summer day. As usual, the green was filled with students sunning themselves, tossing Frisbees or kicking soccer balls, napping in the shade, making out, holding debates, strumming acoustic guitars, reading magazines, studying. Going about their lives.
I’m one of them now, Dexter thought with a shiver of new-Dexter happiness tinged with just a touch of old-Dexter disbelief. Nobody looking at me would ever know otherwise.
For a moment he was almost overwhelmed by a feeling of contentment and well-being. This was where he was meant to be. Maybe all his life he’d known that in some subconscious way. Maybe that was why he’d never bothered to rebel against his lot in life, to fight back with drugs or aggression or petty crime like so many young men in his situation. His aunt had always said it was because he was a natural-born wimp, but that wasn’t it at all. It was because he knew something better was coming if only he was patient.
As he glanced around again at the idyllic scene, Dexter suddenly noticed something new in the midst of it—a familiar, lumbering shape making its way down the sidewalk just a short distance away across the nearest patch of lawn. It was as if an enormous, bulging black cloud had just blocked out the sun’s warmth, sending a chill over the whole campus.
No, Dexter thought, his stomach lurching and roiling with shock. No, no, no, no, no!
“Hey! What’s the matter?” Daisy yanked her hand out of his grip and rubbed it with her free hand. “You just about squeezed my fingers off!”
“S-sorry,” Dexter stammered, his mind a howling whirlwind of panic as he stared at his aunt just a few dozen yards away, big as life. His mother was there, too, standing like a meek shadow of the larger woman. He couldn’t let his two worlds, the two Dexters, collide—it would ruin everything. If Daisy ever met his mother and aunt, it would blow his cover. She would know immediately that he’d been lying to her about his happy, wealthy, tight-knit family; that his stories about the laughter-filled nightly dinners and the leisurely vacations in Europe and all the rest were lies. It would be a disaster.
Frozen with terror, he watched Aunt Paula accost a passing coed while his mother hung back timidly, her hands clutching her pocketbook as if she feared someone might snatch it away at any moment. Dexter was too far away to hear what Aunt Paula was saying, but after a moment he saw the coed shrug and move on, leaving the two women standing there staring around uncertainly. They couldn’t have looked more out of place if they’d suddenly showed up on Mars—his mother with her thin, hunched shoulders and careworn face, and Aunt Paula looking like the world’s fattest drag queen in one of the tacky outfits she’d bought with her winnings.
They don’t belong here, he thought frantically. Why are they here?
But he quickly realized that it didn’t matter. Whatever they were doing there, he was going to have to do something about it—now—if he didn’t want to see his carefully constructed new life come crashing down around him.
“Hey, listen,” Dexter said to Daisy, desperately trying to sound casual. “I just remembered I, uh, promised to call my cousin in Switzerland. Birthday—it’s her birthday today. I’d better go do it before it gets too late over there. Do you mind if we meet up a little later?”
If Daisy noticed the slightly hysterical squeak that crept into his voice on the last few words, she didn’t show it. “Wait a minute. What cousin in Switzerland? Are you trying to ditch me?” she demanded with a playful pout.
He forced a laugh. “Now why would I want to ditch the most beautiful girl in the world?” he asked, the familiar compliment rolling easily off his tongue. “I’ll make it up to you—how about dinner tonight? Anywhere you want. My treat.”
Her pout turned into a smile. “Well, when you put it that way…” she said. “I guess I can live without you for a little while. My roommate wanted to go downtown for some shopping anyway. Maybe I can find something sexy to wear for our dinner tonight.” She winked. “Tell your cousin I said happy birthday.”
With a little wave, she turned and strolled off in the direction of her own dorm. Normally he would have happily watched her walk away all day, but at the moment he was too anxious and impatient to enjoy the view. When she finally disappeared from sight, he let out a sigh of relief.
And not a moment too soon…
“Dexter!” his aunt bellowed, her voice like a foghorn cutting through the clamor of the chatting, laughing, music-playing students. “There you are, boy!”
“What luck!” His mother’s much quieter voice quavered with relief as the two women hurried toward him.
Dexter did his best to scan the surrounding area out of the corner of his eye as they approached. Was that girl sitting under the tree over there shooting him a funny look? Did he recognize those guys over by the fountain from his Spanish class? Who was out there watching what he was doing, just waiting to give everyone he knew a full report on his embarrassing relatives?
Luckily he was pretty sure he didn’t see anyone he actually knew. Deciding not to take any chances, he grabbed his mother firmly by the elbow as she reached out for a hug. “Come this way, Mom,” he said. “Let’s go somewhere quiet to talk.”
“Surprised to see us?” Aunt Paula demanded, not budging as he tried to maneuver around her.
“Surprised…surprised doesn’t even cover it.” Dexter went for a joking tone and failed miserably. “Come on, really. Let’s get out of the sun so we can chat.”
He managed to steer them around the corner of the main library to a deserted patch of grass and ferns beneath the shade of an ancient, gnarled maple tree between buildings. Dropping his mother’s arm, he turned to face them.
“So what are you guys doing here?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?”
“We tried.” Aunt Paula sounded peeved. “If you ever answered your damn phone…”
“Never mind.” Dexter’s mother made tentative soothing motions with her hands. “We’re here together now, and that’s what matters.” She turned her pale eyes onto Dexter. “I’ve missed you, Dexy. Why haven’t you come home to visit? Or at least called?”
Dexter felt a hollow ache in his heart at the desperate need in her face. “It’s only been a few weeks,” he protested weakly. “I’ve been settling in and stuff…you know, busy.”
“That’s right. You’re some big important college boy now, too busy for family.” Aunt Paula snorted. “Good thing I wasn’t too busy for family the day I wrote out that fat check to this place.”
“Paula, please.” Dexter’s mother’s eyes pleaded with her. “Let’s not fight. I want to hear all about what Dexy has been doing up here. Are you making any friends in this place?” Once again her anxious gaze fixed on his face.
“Sure, Mom. Everyone here is really cool.” Dexter hadn’t felt comfortable discussing his social life when he was an outcast back in high school, and he found it wasn’t any more pleasant now that he actually had friends.
“Any girlfriends?” Aunt Paula joked. “Sowing your wild oats now that you’re out of your mother’s house, Dexy?”
Dexter shrugged, feeling himself blush. “I dunno�
�” he mumbled.
“Leave him alone, Paula.” His mother looked almost as embarrassed as he felt at the topic. “Now Dexter, what about your classes? Did you declare your major yet?”
“Yeah, what’s it going to be, boy?” Aunt Paula demanded. “Pre-med, like we talked about, right? Huh?”
Dexter almost wished they could go back to discussing his social life. “Um, I signed up for most of the stuff you said,” he said. “Biology, Chemistry, Economics. And Spanish, for the language requirement. Oh, and one elective—British Literature.” He mumbled the final two words as quietly as possible.
“British Literature?” Aunt Paula pursed her fleshy lips disapprovingly. “Why’d you go and sign up for something like that?”
“I just thought it sounded interesting.” Dexter hated feeling on the defensive against his overbearing aunt. It was why he’d spent most of his life doing whatever she said.
She scowled. “Don’t take that tone with me, boy. This ain’t a joke—a fruity class like that could really mess up your grades, keep you from getting into medical school someday.”
“Don’t worry. I already got one paper back, and I got an A.”
Dexter didn’t bother to add that it was by far the best grade he’d received in any class so far that semester. The truth was, even after only a few weeks he was already struggling in most of his other classes. His mind didn’t seem to want to grasp the complexities of chemistry or biology, and economics was just plain dull.
“Anyway,” he added quickly, before they could think to ask about the rest of his grades, “British Lit isn’t necessarily as impractical as you think. From what I hear, college liberal arts professors make decent money, and—”
“Forget about that right this minute, boy,” Aunt Paula cut him off harshly. “I’m not shelling out all my hard-earned money for my nephew to go off and become some tweedy, snooty professor type.”
Dexter recoiled as if she’d slapped him. Why had he bothered? Better to stick to the script, telling his family only as much as they needed to know and keeping the rest to himself.
Of course, he wouldn’t be able to hide certain things from them forever. What would his mother and Aunt Paula say when they saw his grades at the end of the term?
For a moment all the lies and half-truths he was telling crowded into his mind, making him feel dizzy and sick. What was he trying to do, anyway? Did he really think this whole two-Dexters thing could last?
But he quickly pushed such worries aside. Where there was a will, there was a way. Maybe he could bring his grades up before the end of the semester if he worked harder, sought out extra tutoring, whatever. The most important thing was to keep himself there at school. Now that the life of his dreams seemed almost within his grasp, there was no way he was giving it up. No matter what it took.
11
“THIS PLACE SUCKS.” SHANNON scowled down at the half-eaten bag of pretzels in her hand. “If things keep on like this, we’re all going to starve to death before the stupid rescuers get here.”
Dexter glanced up from his own chunk of stale airline roll and smiled sympathetically. He had to admit that it wasn’t much of a lunch. As soon as the drenching rain had ended a few minutes earlier, the three of them had realized they were hungry and gone in search of food, only to find that the rationing had already started in earnest.
Boone sighed loudly and shot his sister an irritated look. “Yeah, we know, Shannon. Instead of complaining, why don’t you do something about it?” he challenged.
“Like what?” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Call for a pizza?”
“Maybe we could go out and look for more food sources,” Dexter put in mildly, trying to keep the peace. “I heard there are lots of fruit trees not far from the beach, but they’re already getting picked clean. We could look for some new trees farther in. Or a freshwater source, maybe.”
Boone shrugged. “Sounds like a plan to me.” He glanced at Shannon. “You in? Or would you rather stick around here and work on your tan as usual?”
“Get over yourself, you—”
“Hi, guys,” a new, British-accented voice said, interrupting. “What’s going on?”
Dexter glanced up to see a young, bearded man wandering up to them with Arzt trailing along behind. He had seen the bearded British guy around the beach—he’d been part of the transceiver group along with Shannon and Boone, for one thing—but so far he hadn’t actually met him. At the moment he looked kind of bored. Dexter wondered if Arzt had been lecturing him on science or something.
“Hi,” Dexter said to the British guy. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Dexter.”
“Charlie,” the newcomer offered his hand. “Nice to meet you, Dexter.”
Meanwhile Arzt flopped onto the sand, panting and sweating. “Geez,” he complained. “First that rain, now this heat—this place is like a freaking sauna.”
“Charlie used to be in that band, Driveshaft,” Shannon told Dexter lazily, ignoring Arzt’s comment. “I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it if you want.”
Charlie looked slightly pained. “Not used to,” he corrected. “Am. We never really broke up. Not officially.”
“Driveshaft? I remember them.” Dexter was impressed. “Cool.”
Boone seemed less interested in the whole conversation. “We were just talking about going into the jungle to look for more fruit and freshwater,” he told the two newcomers. “Want to come along?”
Charlie glanced toward the jungle, a shadow of apprehension crossing his face. But then he shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “I guess so.”
“I’ll come, too.” Arzt climbed to his feet and stretched. “Won’t do you any good to look for food sources without someone who knows what they’re looking for.”
“And you do?” Charlie cocked one eyebrow skeptically.
Arzt shrugged. “I’m a man of science, my boy,” he said with a slightly haughty air.
As the others started talking about which direction to go, Dexter noticed the tall, auburn-haired woman from the transceiver group walking in their direction, her head down and her expression troubled. Someone on his work team had mentioned that her name was Kate and that she seemed to be friends with Jack. Dexter watched her as she wandered closer, wondering why she looked so upset.
“Hi,” he called to her, deciding to take his role as the island’s amateur psychologist into his own hands. “It’s Kate, right?”
She glanced up, startled. “Yeah.”
Dexter introduced himself, though most of the others seemed to know her already. “We’re heading into the jungle on a food search,” he said. “Interested?”
“Sure, I’ll come along.” Kate stepped toward them, sweeping a lock of her curly hair out of her eyes. “I could stand to get away from this beach for a while.”
Dexter noticed that as she said it, her gaze wandered briefly to the blue-and-yellow infirmary tent. Drifting out from inside were an increasing number of distressing groans and cries of pain. He’d heard that the man inside, the one who’d had that big chunk of shrapnel stuck in his side, was probably dying despite Jack’s best efforts.
He shuddered and turned away, not wanting to think about that too much. “Great,” he told Kate. “The more the merrier.”
Soon all six of them were heading toward the tree line. As they neared it, they passed Walt, who was kicking at the sand in the shade of a palm tree.
Dexter paused, surprised to see him out there alone. So far Walt always seemed to be with either his father or the inscrutable John Locke, with whom he seemed to have struck up a friendship. But neither man was in sight at the moment.
“Hey,” Dexter greeted the boy. “What are you up to, Walt? Where’s your dad?”
Walt squinted up at him. “In the jungle looking for Vincent.”
“Vincent?” Dexter felt a pang. In all his worry over Daisy, he hadn’t bothered to consider that other survivors still might be searching for loved ones as well. “Is that your b
rother?”
“No.” Walt gave him an are-you-crazy look. “My dog.”
“Oh.” Dexter belatedly recalled that the boy had mentioned his missing dog before. “Well, I hope he finds him.”
Leaving the boy to his sand-kicking, he and the others continued their trek. Soon they were making their way along an animal trail in the dappled shade of the swaying palms. It was much cooler in there, and Dexter was relieved to escape the scorching heat of the beach. As Arzt had mentioned, the recent rain had failed to cool things off, instead merely raising the humidity and making the afternoon sun feel even hotter. In such conditions it sometimes seemed impossible to drink enough water to avoid getting overheated and dehydrated, and Dexter didn’t want to take any chances. He was already having enough problems with hallucinations and weird memory gaps.
After a few minutes the trail narrowed, becoming a tiny track through a large, boulder-studded section of the forest. The hikers were forced to move along two by two. Dexter fell into step beside Shannon at the end of the line. Her pretty face wore a grumpy expression, and sweat dotted her forehead and dampened her blond hair.
“Remind me not to book my next vacation anywhere with stupid palm trees. This tropical weather is way overrated,” she grumbled, kicking aside a palm frond lying in her way.
Dexter smiled sympathetically. “You sound like Daisy,” he said. “She’d pick a ski trip in Vail over a beach vacation in the islands any day of the week.”
“I used to love the beach.” Shannon wrinkled her nose. “But these days it’s getting a little old, you know?”
“Yeah. Hold on a sec.” Dexter had just spotted a puddle of clear water in the cleft of a nearby boulder. Even in the relative cool of the jungle shade, the heat was oppressive enough to arouse his thirst. “That looks like rainwater—think I’ll grab a quick drink.”
Shannon wrinkled her nose. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
“Guess we’ll find out.” Dexter grinned, then pushed his way through the tall grass toward the boulder. The others were a dozen yards ahead and didn’t seem to notice, but Shannon stopped and waited for him.
Lost: The Novels Page 21