by Rachel Shane
The phone blared in three high-pitched bleats that startled both of us. Mom fumbled over the obstacle of clothes, knocking over a tower of folded t-shirts, in her race to pick up the phone.
“Hello? Hello?” she said into thin air before she even grabbed the receiver. She strung an arm over her chest in a pledge-of-allegiance pose as she listened. “Uh huh.” She sagged against the dresser and her hand slid down her body until it rested at her side. “Thank you for keeping me posted.”
She hung up and bent in front of the dresser, pulling out Lara’s bikinis.
I waited a torturous minute, just staring at her, before I cleared my throat. My voice felt scratchy from a few hours without use. “Is she okay?”
“She’s out of surgery,” was the only answer my mom would give me.
I’d gathered bits and pieces of other information from Mom’s one-sided phone calls over the past twenty-four hours and my interrogation with the police. Finn had saved her life, but she broke a few ribs. Dislocated her hip. There was internal bleeding.
And she may never walk again.
Every time I thought about it, my stomach churned, weighed down by the guilt flowing through my veins and replacing the blood I should have had in there. Blood that should have tied me to Lara.
Thinking about Lara always led me to the other image burned on my retinas. Finn, staring at me as if I were a stranger right before he became the superhero he’d always wanted to be. From gossip I’d overheard at breakfast, I learned that Finn had been treated at a local hospital in Cancun. He’d broken his arm, and that was it. That was it for everything. He was off the ship and I’d never speak to him again.
I shoved my hand into my pocket and pulled out the letter Finn had given to me the second day of the cruise. It was the only thing I had left of him, besides an email address and phone number I’d never use. While my mom was in the bathroom collecting toiletries between heavy sighs, I stared at it, wanting desperately to decipher it, but at the same time, it felt wrong. Like I was no longer privy to the secret information coded just for me. I crumpled it, the jagged edges of the sphere scratching my palm, and threw it against the wall.
And then, like the pathetic girl I was, I smoothed it out and folded it back up as neatly as I’d been folding Lara’s shirts. I let go of Lara, I wouldn’t let go of this.
Even though I’d been out in the bright sun all week, the hospital felt brighter, whiter, claustrophobic. The nurses all wore blank expressions, their colorful scrubs acting only as accents to the negative space. I waited outside Lara’s room for a while to give Mom some privacy with the daughter she loved.
Finally, Dad stepped out and waved me inside. I wanted a cheesy joke to spill from his lips and be punctuated by his goofy smile. Instead I received a somber, “Glad you’re okay.”
It was a statement, not a question, and it was wrong. I wasn’t okay.
With Mom’s back to Lara, my eyes met hers, and I tried as hard as I could to morph them in a way that showed her how sorry I was. She looked out the window, away from me.
Lara’s leg was covered in a thick white cast that looked confining. It robbed her of her thin dancer’s silhouette. At least a dozen vases of flowers brought the room to life, probably from all her friends. I wondered if there was one from Denise.
“Can you guys leave us alone for a minute?” I asked my parents.
Mom glanced at Dad with a horrified look, as if I might try to hurt my sister again in their absence, but Dad swooped in with a hand to her back and ushered her toward the door.
“No! Don’t.” Lara’s hands balled into fists. “I don’t feel like talking right now.”
Mom tried to stop and Dad said to her, “We’ll be right outside if anything happens.”
My parents didn’t trust me anymore. My parents were afraid of me.
I looked down at the floor and clasped my hands. “Lara, I’m so so sorry.” I needed a thousand so’s to convey how truly sorry I was.
“I understand how things are now. What I mean to you.” A tear slid down her cheek. She tried to cover it by rolling her eyes.
“I’m really glad you’re…” I was going to say okay, but she wasn’t. Alive didn’t seem appropriate either.
As I tried to come up with a replacement word, Lara let out a forced laugh. “Just say you’re glad I’m hurt. I know that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I didn’t want this to happen.” I burst into tears, though I was amazed I’d kept them suppressed for this long.
“Yeah you did. You said it yourself. The talent show was your one chance to be a star, and I had plenty others. You couldn’t handle that.” Her voice cracked.
I wanted to keep defending myself but every excuse that came to my lips felt like just that. An excuse.
“I give up.” She covered her face with her hands. “You can have the spotlight. Go back home and take my place. You win, Kasey, it’s all yours.”
“I doubt anyone will talk to me after what happened.”
“They don’t know.” She scrunched her eyes closed, I hoped shutting me out and not dealing with pain. “No one knows how I got hurt and I’d like to keep it that way. Keeps me mysterious.”
I knew there was one thing I was grateful of, I was still pure in the dance team’s eyes, in Denise’s. I couldn’t ruin that. And Lara didn’t want me to.
“I won’t tell anyone.”
Her doctor entered the room, so I got off the bed and out of his way.
“One of your friends?” he asked Lara, gesturing from me to her room full of bouquets.
“I’m Kasey.” I extended my hand as he fumbled to find a place for his pen. “Lara’s sister.”
“I didn’t know you had a sister,” he said.
“I don’t,” Lara mumbled.
Displaying 3 out of 286 comments.
Ali said…
Way to break another promise to Lara! Good job.
Ali said…
Also, can I have Finn’s email address? I want to contact him myself. Any guy who would jump off the ship for a girl sounds hot.
Lonnie said…
You say “hot” I say “stupid.” To each his own.
AS I HURRIED TO Western Civ, I spotted Ali at the end of the hallway. I almost turned around, but I didn’t want to be late. She yelled, “Kasey!”
Nearly every person in the hallway stopped, including me. My name was a trigger for entertainment, it always came with gossip and drama these days. I tried to shield my face from the onlookers as she stomped toward me.
She readjusted her books in her arm, making me—and our audience—wait until she was ready to speak again. I thought about dodging around her but that would only delay the inevitable.
“I saw Lara yesterday,” she announced, her voice carrying above the chatter.
My pulse raced. “You know where she is?”
The way Ali’s face twitched betrayed her mistake. She covered it with a triumphant smile. “Obviously. Jealous?”
I gritted my teeth and ignored her comment. Even if she did know Lara’s whereabouts, she’d never tell me if I asked directly. It would just be one more thing she could hold against me. The only way for me to get this information was to outsmart her. “Nope. I’m glad.” Glad that she was still in NYC anyway.
“I told her I knew what you did to her.” Ali held her books out to me and then let go until they smack on the floor. The crash echoed and made my teeth snap together.
Students rushed in with requisite “OoooOOOooohs” reserved for people called to the office in the middle of class.
Blood whooshed in my ears. I had to save face. “Figured you would.” I shifted my weight to one hip to act nonchalant.
“Good news.” Ali clapped once. I braced myself for the bad news that was sure to follow, wincing even before I heard it. “Now she’s mad at you for that, too.”
I sucked in a deep breath and lifted my shoulders, hoping I came off confident. I needed to, for Lara’s sake. “Of course she
is. Because I haven’t fixed things for her yet. But I’m working on it. You can tell her that.”
When Ali shook her head, her chestnut hair whipped her in the face. “You’re missing the obvious. She doesn’t want that. She wants what she’s always wanted. For you to leave her alone.”
Ali scooped up her books and strutted past me, knocking into my shoulder on her way. The crowd hurtled into motion, fluttering around me while I stood still, thinking about what Ali had said. The one thing Lara wanted wasn’t for me to leave her alone. It was to dance, and she couldn’t anymore.
JUST DESERTED
Posted by Kasey at 4:58 P.M.
Friday, September 12
Past Mood: Unworthy
SAT Word Of The Day: Forsake. Definition: Everything I did was for the sake of Lara’s forgiveness.
Lonnie, get excited. This post is finally about YOU!
After the accident, I spent the next few days in exile. Or at least that’s what it felt like. My butt made an imprint in the uncomfortable hospital chair as I took my post in the waiting room while Mom and Dad spent all day trying to cheer my sister up. Dinners consisted of awful hospital cafeteria take out, carried into Lara’s room so we could join her as she stared at her food and chose to consume IV fluids instead. The only time my parents spoke to me was to give me instructions like I was a dog. “Stay here,” they’d say, and point at me. “Get up,” they’d tell me as they bypassed me on their way to the hospital exit to head to the hotel for the night. “Beg,” they implied every time they avoided looking me in the eye. It would take more than time to earn their forgiveness.
Once we got home, Lara turned the living room into her bunker since she couldn’t walk upstairs, which meant I had to see her narrowed eyes every time I entered the house. I couldn’t wait to be surrounded with people—okay, a person—who still liked me. I’d texted Denise a few times to tell her we had to stay in Miami a few extra days, but I didn’t say anything more.
“Are you OK?” she’d written back and I replied, “Yes.” Because I was. My hips still worked. “Call me if you want to talk,” she offered. I didn’t call. I didn’t want to talk. I couldn’t. Not after my promise to Lara.
The morning of camp, I didn’t know if the other girls would be wearing workout sweats, leggings and leotards, or dressing up because there would be cute boy counselors in the music and art departments. It was the kind of fashion advice Lara would have helped me with in the past. The clean laundry pile caught my eye and the blue leotard sparkling in the center called to me. Lara’s old leotard. It would be a way to honor her. I sucked back the sob that I’d been holding all week.
I tiptoed downstairs. Snippets of TV shows appeared on the TV, each one taking center stage for only a few seconds before being replaced by another option as Lara flipped through the channels. Which meant Lara was awake. A few deep breaths didn’t exactly cut it in the courage department but they would have to do.
Don’t look at her, just keep focusing straight ahead. As I passed Lara on the couch, I heard her sharp intake of breath. My eyes flew to her gaping mouth. The remote slipped from her fingers and crashed to the hardwood floor. She couldn’t get her hands up to cover her wet cheeks fast enough.
I looked down to see the sparkly leotard glistening in the sunlight streaming in through the window, and I knew this time it wasn’t just my presence that broke my sister. It was my future.
I curled my hand around the cold metal bar on the door to ManPrep, but I couldn’t bring myself to press it down. A girl carrying a large art portfolio case strode right by me and yanked open the door like it was meaningless. “Go,” she said.
And I did. I turned right around and fled across the street, not even bothering to look both ways before I crossed into traffic. I ducked under the awning of a café. My breath came out ragged as I watched Denise tromp toward the door, her sleek ponytail swinging behind her. She stopped just before going in and craned her neck left and right, searching for me.
“De—” I started to shout her name without thinking and then clamped my mouth shut. Denise wouldn’t understand. No one would.
She scrolled through her cell phone, presumably looking for a text from me. I scrunched into the doorway of the closed café and tried to ignore the ache in my chest. Denise gave one more halfhearted look over her shoulder before wrenching open the door.
As I power-walked to the subway, the back of my hand couldn’t erase the tears fast enough. I kept my eyes down, concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other, knowing this simple task would now always be difficult for Lara. Just as I was about to descend the stairs, a figure raced up them so fast, I hopped out of the way. When he looked up from underneath the green subway awning, Lonnie’s eyes met mine. He brushed his shaggy hair out of his face to see me better.
I pushed past him and started down the stairs, but he grabbed the back of my shirt.
He pulled his oversized black headphones off his ears, stringing them around his neck. “ManPrep’s back that way. In case you forgot. It has been two whole weeks, after all.”
I frantically wiped at my cheeks. “I’m not going.” I tried to go down another step but he followed me.
“If we’re both late, maybe they’ll be more lenient.” He raised his fist in the air. “Solidarity to the oversleepers!”
“Lonnie, I’m serious. I’m quitting for the summer. Don’t get yourself in trouble.” I looked up at him and the smile slid right off his lips, turning his face into the same stone my family wore.
“Well, if you’re not going. Neither am I.” He crossed his arms. “You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong. But I’m not leaving you like this.”
I swallowed hard. It felt weird to have someone be nice to me after days of only being hated, especially someone I barely knew. Sure, we had chatted a few times in our joint classes but usually about assignments. He stared right at me as dialed a number into his cell phone and pressed it to his ear. His foot tapped out the seconds while he waited for someone to answer.
“Hi, this is Lonnie Weitzman.” He made a hacking cough sound. “I came down with a cold. And a stomach bug. Diarrhea everywhere.” He grinned at me as I wrinkled my nose. He added few more coughs for good measure. “I think it’s best I stay home today.” He listened for a moment, then hung up the call and slid his phone into his pocket.
“You’re gross,” I said.
“The correct response is, ‘I’m yours.’”
“What?” Suddenly I felt hot. Way hotter than I should feel in eighty-five degree weather. Sweat beads pushed through every pore of my skin, gathering for a meeting in my armpits. I wasn’t Lonnie’s. I wasn’t anyone’s. Finn had made that pretty clear.
Lonnie chuckled at me. “For the day, I mean. I’ll get your mind off whatever’s bothering you.”
“I think only a case of amnesia will accomplish that.” I bit my lip. “Or maybe decapitation.”
“Excellent choices! Both are feasible in this great city.” He outstretched his arm to showcase the span of buildings. “A little roofie spiked drink to accomplish the first and a run-of-the-mill murder for the second.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “We should probably head to the park for both, wait ‘till night time, you know the drill.”
Anyone who could make me smile after a week of frowns deserved some credit. “I don’t have a lot of money to spend.” I had to get a new summer job now. If one would even hire me this late.
“Metrocard?” Lonnie asked as a guy in a business suit weaved around him.
I held up my yellow and blue badge of honor.
“Then you’re good to go.” He coiled his headphone wires around the band and placed it into his messenger bag, moving aside the papers until he fit the headphones into a perfect sized space for them.
“Where are we going?” As I followed him down the stairs of the F train, I had a strange feeling of déjà vous. Once again a boy was leading me around. Though this one had significantly more hair. Up until last week, the o
nly words I usually had the courage to utter to a guy were about directions. “Is this due tomorrow?” “Is the keg over there?” “Should we go someplace private?” Kissing never required words.
And now here I was, with the second boy in two weeks. And all I could think about was the first.
The turnstile made a clickity-clack noise as he entered through it. “To see a show.”
“Not Broadway.” That reminded me too much of Lara. I pushed the metal bars with my stomach to avoid touching the grimy surface.
“Broadway isn’t free. This is. And much awesomer.” He wrinkled his face. “More awesome? The awesomest? Stupid grammar, let’s just go with all of the above.”
A loud nails-on-chalkboard screeching sound echoed as the train hurtled into the station. The doors slid open and passengers fought their way out while others tried to push past them. Lonnie and I squeezed into two air pockets. I balanced as the car lurched into motion. Good thing I’m a dancer, I thought, then corrected myself. Was a dancer.
After a few more stations, Lonnie hopped to his feet. “This is our stop.” He rushed toward the exit, not even bothering to check if I followed. Finn would have grabbed my hand. I weaved through the bodies blocking the doorway. Lonnie was already hustling toward the stairs. “Come on, come on.”
I expected him to hike up the stairs but he circled around them and stopped in front of a musician strumming on his guitar. The singer crooned the notes with such soul, it caused other passengers to stop and listen. Usually I ignored the street performers who begged for money on the subway tracks by serenading people on their way to work. Sure enough his guitar case rested open in front of him with a few dollar bills crumpled up inside.
When I joined Lonnie and the small crowd of onlookers, he leaned in to me. “This guy’s amazing.”
The singer’s voice was powerful and his guitar playing seemed impressive, but I had no authority to judge either. The music I listened to had fast beats and catchy melodies. This music made me want to sink into my bed and sob into my pillow while I wallowed in melancholy. Not a bad option considering my last few days.