“No one would have hated you,” I say. “Not if you explained what happened.”
Samantha stops fiddling with the flowers and raises an eyebrow at me. “Really? You don’t think people would whisper things behind my back for the rest of high school? It would be like the rumor about me and Scotch hooking up, only ten thousand times worse. It would be never-ending.”
“Okay, probably people would talk, but I still don’t get how you thought it would be a good idea to go to the hospital and kill Scotch. I mean, how did you even come up with that?”
Samantha leans against the desk. “The idea wasn’t to kill Scotch. I just wanted to scare him a little. I found some of my mom’s old scrubs that she wears to bed sometimes. I put them on and went to the hospital and waited for the shift change. Then I snuck into Scotch’s room. I just stood there for a little while, watching him. But then he woke up, and when he saw me, he started to yell. I panicked. I grabbed a pillow and stuffed it over his face.”
“But how . . . I mean, he was so much bigger than you.”
She shrugs. “A combination of him being weak and my adrenaline, I guess. I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted him to shut up. When he stopped thrashing around, I took the pillow away, and he was just gone. So I ran.”
I close my eyes and shake my head. Samantha didn’t mean to kill Scotch. I knew it all along. She was just terrified. She wanted him to be quiet. And she didn’t know her own strength.
When she starts talking again, I open my eyes.
“I came home afterward and wrote a suicide note. I couldn’t bear to face my parents after what I’d done. The plan was to use my father’s gun, but Regina interrupted me. She came over, accusing me of killing Scotch to cover up our prank. We started fighting, and that’s when Mattie called.”
Samantha covers her mouth. “I really didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” she repeats. “It just happened.”
I rise and go to her.
“I’m sorry,” she sobs. “I’m so sorry.”
I reply by hugging her hard.
We stand there for a while, until Samantha’s mom comes and tells me it’s time to leave.
At dinner that night, Lydia makes an announcement.
“It’s time for me to go back to California and face my demons.”
“Your demons, meaning your fiancé?” my father asks, barely keeping a straight face. He passes the green beans across the table to Mattie.
“My demons, meaning my fear of commitment. I’m going to take my sorry ass back to California and see if James will forgive me.”
“What brought you to that decision?” I ask.
“You did,” Lydia says, smiling.
“How so?”
“Well, I watched you forgive Samantha after she very nearly took away the thing most precious to you in this world. It gives me hope that James might do the same for me.”
My father reaches across the table and rubs my arm. “She is pretty amazing, isn’t she?”
“That she is.”
I return Lydia’s grin and realize, for the first time, how nice it is to have an aunt around, particularly one that looks almost identical to my mother.
That night on my way to the bathroom, I pass Mattie’s open door. Lydia is inside the room, her suitcase open on the bed.
“Need any help?” I ask.
She turns around, a pair of jeans in her hands. She folds them into a haphazard square and then stuffs them into her bag. “Nope, I think I’ve got it covered.”
She sits down on the bed and pats the spot next to her. “I have some things I think I should tell you before I leave.”
I search her face, wondering what she wants to talk about. I take a seat beside her, waiting.
“So . . . Mattie told me pretty much everything about the last few weeks.”
“Everything?” I ask, feeling embarrassed about how convinced I was that she was up to something terrible.
“Yes.”
“Everything everything?”
She nods. “If you’re referring to a particular trait you and Mattie inherited from your mother, then yes, she told me everything.”
I suck in my breath.
“My mother . . . she was like us?”
Lydia smiles. “She was gifted, just like you girls.”
“And this gift, do you have it?”
She chuckles. “I’m happy to say that gene passed me by.”
I draw on the carpet with my toes. There’s just one thing I’ve been wondering about, a question that’s never been answered.
“If you don’t mind my asking, why did you change your name to Lila Harrington?”
Lydia smoothes a wrinkle in her slacks. “It’s hard to explain. After Melody’s father brought her back to Iowa, I went through a period of depression. I was in so much pain whenever I thought about giving away my daughter. I wanted to start anew, I guess, and it seemed logical to start with a new name.”
“Does James know about all of this?” I know very well he doesn’t, but I want to hear her explain why she never told him.
“Like I said, I wanted a new life. I wasn’t sure he’d want to begin a family with a woman who once gave away her own daughter. I wanted to pretend that this time was for real. But the night before our wedding, I realized I couldn’t marry him—not until I’d sorted everything out at home.”
I think about this. It makes sense that she’d want to wait until she could be completely honest with James before they got married.
“I hope everything works out for you,” I say, and I realize that I mean it.
“Me too,” Lydia says, squeezing my shoulder.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Diane Acton’s house is small and tidy. There are pink impatiens planted around the tree in her front yard. The blue station wagon is parked in the driveway, looking much less sinister than it seemed when it was driving by my house.
“Do you want me to come in with you guys?” Rollins asks, subconsciously touching his chest. It’s been weeks since he got out of the hospital, but he still feels quite a bit of pain where the bullet hit him.
I’m about to say no, but then I change my mind. I have a tendency to get myself into some pretty crazy situations. “That’d probably be best.”
Mattie, Rollins, and I get out of the car and cross the lawn. A small dog yaps at us from across the street. We crowd onto the front step, and I ring the doorbell.
The door swings open, and Diane peeks out. Her mouth drops open when she sees me. “Sylvia? What are you doing here?”
I put my hands on my hips. “So you do remember me.”
“Of course I remember. What do you need?”
“I have some questions I’m hoping you can answer for me. Can we come in?”
Diane nods. “Of course.”
She holds open the door, and we all walk into her house. She leads us into the living room and gestures to a couch. “Would you like anything to drink?”
I shake my head and sit down. Mattie and Rollins sit on either side of me.
“Is this your sister?” Diane asks, sitting in a rocking chair on the other side of the room. “I can see the resemblance.”
“Yes, this is Mattie. And this,” I say, pointing, “is Rollins.”
Diane raises her eyebrows. “I’ve never met anyone named Rollins before.”
I ignore her comment and jump right in. “Why are you following me?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I don’t believe it was a coincidence that you were driving along Highway 6 the night I got into an accident. I never told you my address, but you knew how to get there anyway. And since then I’ve seen you watching me at the mall and driving by our house. Don’t try to deny it, Diane.”
“I won’t,” she says.
“Why were you following me?”
She pushes out of the rocking chair, steadies herself. I feel Rollins tense beside me. I put my hand on his knee. It’s not like this old woman is going to attack me. At least, I don�
�t think she is.
Wordlessly, she walks out of the room. A moment later, she returns carrying two stuffed animals in her arms. One is a turtle with a missing eye. The other is a sheep. She gives the turtle to me, the sheep to Mattie.
A flurry of memories rushes through me. I haven’t thought of this turtle in ages, but now that I’m holding it in my hands, I wonder how I ever could have forgotten it.
“Slowpoke,” I say, calling it by its name. I look up at Diane, who has returned to the rocking chair. “How did you get this?”
“Your mother gave it to me.”
I exchange an incredulous look with Mattie. “Are you serious? I mean, I know you knew our mom, but why would she give you our things?”
“Let me start at the beginning. Susan and I met at the hospital. She’d come by to bring your father lunch, and we just got to talking. After that, we were fast friends. I realized we had a lot in common.”
Mattie speaks up. “Like what?”
Diane looks carefully at Rollins. “Would you mind excusing us, dear? This is private business.”
“Anything you say to me, you can say in front of Rollins. There are no secrets between us,” I tell her.
She straightens her skirt. “Okay, then. Susan, like me, had the gift of extraordinary empathy.”
“Extraordinary what?” Mattie asks.
“Empathy is the ability to experience the feelings of another—”
I cut her off. “Is that what you call it? Extraordinary empathy?”
Diane studies me. “Well, that’s what it is, isn’t it? The capacity to literally walk in someone else’s shoes?”
I gasp. “You’re able to sl—to walk in someone else’s shoes?”
A wry smile spreads across her lips. “My dear, I’ve walked in your shoes. Or should I say your bare feet?”
I wonder what she’s talking about, and then I remember the night I got into the car accident. There was a moment, right before Scotch came down the road, I kind of blacked out. I thought it was because I was so disoriented from the car crash, but maybe this woman slid into me. I look at the stuffed animal in my hands. I’d loved it so much when I was small. Surely there was enough of an emotional imprint attached for Diane to use and find me.
“That night of the accident,” I say.
She nods.
“But why?”
“I made a promise to your mother before she died. She came here shortly after she was diagnosed with cancer, and she made me promise to watch over you and Mattie. That’s why she gave me the stuffed animals. In case I ever needed to . . . tap into you. I never thought I’d actually have to use them. But when I read in the papers about what happened with your friend Zane, I started to get nervous.”
Hearing Zane’s name is like a stab to the heart. I shake it off, try to concentrate on what Diane’s saying.
She goes on. “I started following you periodically. One night, I happened to pass by your house. Vee, I saw you backing out of the driveway in your father’s car. I’d never seen you driving before. I suspected it was because of your condition. So it was very odd to see you behind the wheel. I wanted to follow you, but I was nearly out of gas. I had to stop, and then I had no idea where you’d gone. That was the first night I used the turtle. I wanted to make sure you were okay. When I tapped into you, I saw that you were stranded on the side of the road.”
“And then you came to pick me up,” I said.
She nods.
Rollins speaks up.
“Are there more people like you and Vee and Mattie? Others with . . . extraordinary empathy?”
“Not many, but there are a few I’ve come across in my lifetime.”
“Can we meet them? I have so many questions,” says Mattie.
I realize that I have a lot of questions myself. Like, how was Mattie able to control people so easily, while I had to work up to it? Why does she slide only when she’s asleep? Is sliding from a waking state something you work up to?
“If that’s what you want,” says Diane. “It’s probably hard for you, without anyone to talk to about your ability. I could get in touch with one or two of them. And, in the meantime, you can always talk to me.”
“I’d like that,” I say.
I run my fingers through the turtle’s soft fur, thinking how glad I am to have found others who are able to do what I can do. For so long, I felt alone, but now I have someone to guide me.
I look at Mattie and smile.
And someone to share my journey.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The doorbell rings.
“Vee? Can you get that?”
My dad stands in the living room, fumbling with his video camera. You’d think a pediatric surgeon would be able to master the fundamentals of making a home movie, but he keeps forgetting where the zoom button is.
“Sure.”
I open the door, revealing a tuxedo-clad Russ shuffling his feet and holding a plastic container with a white rose corsage in front of him. He looks adorably nervous.
“Is Mattie ready?”
“Almost. Would you like to come in?”
He tugs at his collar. “Sure.”
My father, Russ, and I wait in the living room for Mattie to come downstairs. “Here she comes, Miss America,” my father booms when she appears.
“Dad,” Mattie says, but she’s smiling. She looks drop-dead gorgeous in her strapless red dress. It’s kind of a shock to see her looking so mature, even though I know she’s grown up a lot this past year. My father must be having the same thoughts because his broad grin falters just a little. He covers it up with his camera and starts filming.
Mattie picks up her skirt so it won’t trip her on the way downstairs. At the bottom, Russ meets her with the rose. He nervously pins it to her dress. “Ow,” Mattie says, and when Russ gives her a mortified glance, she says, “Just kidding.”
They start for the door, but my father stops them. “Wait a second. I promised Lydia she’d get to see you before you left.”
Mattie turns around and tries to look irritated, but it’s obvious she’s loving every minute of the whole production. She guides Russ into my father’s office, and they get my aunt on Skype. I hang back in the doorway, watching.
“Ohmigod, you two look amazing,” Lydia shrieks, clapping her hands together. She stops and cranes her neck, seeming to look for someone. “Where’s Rollins?”
Mattie glances back at me. “They’re too cool for prom,” she says sarcastically. This has been a point of contention between us. Mattie begged me to go, but I just won’t do it. I still have a bad taste in my mouth from wearing that stupid pink tank top and miniskirt to the movie a few weeks ago. I’ve decided never to go against my instincts again, and my intuition is saying that prom sucks.
“We’re going to stay home and watch Carrie tonight.”
Lydia pouts. “You’re no fun.” She turns her attention back to Mattie. “Have fun at the dance, sweetie.”
“We will!” Mattie takes Russ’s arm, and they push past me.
“Be safe!” my father says. “Remember, your curfew is two.”
“Wow,” Lydia comments. “You’ve loosened up on your rules since I was there.”
My father puts his arm around my shoulders. “I’ve got some good girls.”
Lydia cocks her head and smiles. “You sure do.”
“Vee!” Mattie yells from the foyer. “Rollins is here.”
“Have fun,” Lydia tells me.
“Talk to you later, Lydia,” I reply. We’ve been Skyping a couple times a week since she went back to California. She’s planning to visit us again this summer, but this time she’s bringing her fiancé.
By the time I get to the front door, Mattie and Russ have already left. Rollins stands waiting for me, his hands in the pockets of his faded jeans. Underneath his vintage Led Zeppelin T-shirt, I can see the outline of his bandage.
“We could still go if you changed your mind,” Rollins says, looking a little concerned. “I k
now how you love hanging out in a stinky gymnasium and sipping bad punch.”
“I think I’ll survive,” I say, wrapping my arms around his waist and looking up into his eyes.
He flinches, and I worry that I squeezed him too tightly.
“Are you okay?”
“Ha, yeah, I was just playing with you. Hey, do you have a radio around here?”
Wondering why he wants a radio, I nod. “Yeah. It’s in the kitchen. Why?”
“Because Anna is on tonight, and she’s going to do something for me.”
I pull away from him. “Uh, okay.” Sinking into one of the chairs, I point toward the radio on top of the counter. “There it is.”
Rollins bends down and fiddles with the knobs until he finds KRNK. There’s an old Alanis Morissette song playing. He looks around. “Do you know what time it is?”
I glance at the clock on the stove. “Two minutes until seven.”
“Great.” He leans against the counter and nods along as Alanis sings about scratching her nails down some dude’s back. I slouch in my chair, frowning.
“The movie’s going to start any minute now,” I say.
“Shhhhh,” he says. “The song’s over. Listen.”
Anna’s voice comes on. “Well, folks, it looks like it’s seven o’clock, which means it’s time for me to honor a very special request. This one goes out from Rollins to Vee. He says, ‘Even though we’re not at prom, can I have this dance?’ Go for it, Rollins.”
Astonished, I look at Rollins. He planned this? For me?
The song starts off soft, then gets louder. I recognize it from his first night on the radio. The one that, to him, screams true romance—“Everlong” by Foo Fighters.
Rollins pushes away from the counter. “Well, can I? Have this dance?”
He holds out his hand, and I let him pull me to my feet.
“This is kind of a hard song to dance to,” I say, laughing.
“Then just hold me,” he says dramatically, pulling me close. I hug him, careful not to put too much pressure on his wound. We sway back and forth, listening to the music. Rollins buries his face in my hair. I can feel his lips moving as he mouths along with the lyrics. He moves one hand under my hair, to the base of my neck.
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