Deep Green: Color Me Jealous with Bonus Content

by Melody Carlson

  “This is just what you deserve,” I yelled at myself. “After all, you only think about yourself! You are pathetic and shallow and selfish and totally stupid. And do you know why you’re stuck with your own company tonight, Jordan? It’s because no one else can stand to be around you.”

  But even though it was a form of venting, and most likely quite true, these harsh accusations didn’t make me feel one bit better. I considered calling Kara just then and pouring out my guts to her, although I felt pretty certain that talking on my cell phone while driving on a road that was slicker than a giant ice rink would be pushing things a bit. Plus, I didn’t see any place to pull over at the moment.

  But if I could’ve called Kara just then, I think I would’ve asked her about this whole God thing. I would’ve said, “Okay, Kara, where is God when I need him? Because I’m telling you, I could use some serious help right now. I’ve made a total mess of everything, and like those kids who needed Little Cat Z, I could really use some real live assistance right now. So tell me, Kara, is God like Little Cat Z? Can he clean this mess up? And if he can, where can you find him when you need him?”

  “Help me, God!” I finally screamed at the top of my lungs. “Do something about my pathetically messed-up life!” Then, in pure frustration, I socked the steering wheel. Big mistake.

  When I came to, I was still inside my car, but my car didn’t look anything like it used to look. It’s like the outside had come into the inside, and I was pinned somewhere in between. I was shivering with cold and feeling extreme pain everywhere, but mostly in my right foot. I could tell by headlights moving off to my left that I had gone off the highway and hit something, maybe a tree, although it was hard to tell since my own headlights were knocked out. But I was far enough from the road that I didn’t know if anyone would ever notice me, and I couldn’t see my purse, which of course held my cell phone.

  “Oh, God,” I cried out. “I mean it this time. Please, please, help me. I’m sorry I’ve made such a mess.” Then I think I must’ve passed out again.

  The next time I came to, I was in another kind of vehicle, or maybe it was a bubble, because it was filled with this bluish sort of light. And it was warm and I was wrapped in something and there was this young woman looking down at me. “How you doing, sweetie?” she asked in a voice so kind that I thought maybe she was actually an angel.

  “I’ve been better,” I said, but it sounded like someone else, or maybe a frog. Then I closed my eyes and prepared to meet my maker or, more likely, someone else who ruled in another sort of place. Despite the comforting warmth of the blanket, that thought chilled me to the soul.

  seventeen

  MY PARENTS WAITED UNTIL I WAS FEELING A LITTLE BETTER BEFORE THEY popped the big question.

  “Jordan, we need to know something,” my dad said in a tightly controlled voice. “What on earth were you doing sixty miles from home last night?” I had to admire his restraint since I suspect that he really wanted to yell.

  “Especially after I told you there was going to be an ice storm,” pleaded my mom. “You said you were going to Ashley’s. What were you doing?”

  “And what were you thinking?” demanded my dad.

  I closed my eyes and leaned back onto the hospital bed. They’d finally moved me from the emergency room when they discovered there was nothing life-threateningly wrong with me and that I’d miraculously suffered only a broken ankle and a blow to the head—well, that and lots of cuts and bruises. Some miracle if you ask me.

  “Are you okay, honey?” My mom’s voice was softer now, like the empathy factor had just kicked in again.

  I opened my eyes and looked at them. I could tell they were still freaked about this whole thing. And I’m sure it must be awful to get a phone call like that from the state police. “Like I said, I am really, really sorry about this. I feel bad to have worried you guys.”

  “We’re just relieved you’re okay,” said Mom.

  “And extremely curious as to what you were up to.”

  “I know. And I’ll tell you, but it’s a long story.” I sighed. “And I’m not sure I can even get it straight right now.” I closed my eyes again. “I’m just so tired.”

  “You might as well get some rest,” said my mom. “They want to keep you here for observation until morning anyway.”

  “You guys go home,” I told them with eyes still shut, probably trying to play the brave victim for their benefit. “I’ll be fine.”

  “No.” I could tell that my mom felt it would be wrong to leave me here.

  I opened my eyes. “Really, go home. There’s nothing you can do for me. I’m going to be perfectly fine.”

  “Well, I suppose we could still get a few hours of sleep,” said Dad as he glanced at the clock on the wall.

  “Yes,” I assured them. “Please do. It’ll make me feel better. And believe me, I already feel bad enough as it is.”

  “And you’ll tell us the whole story tomorrow?” asked my dad.

  “I promise.” And I actually meant it. I’d reached the place where I was totally sick of all my lies and my manipulations and my whole messed-up life. Why should I even care if everyone knew everything about me? Maybe I’d take out an ad in the paper and tell the world what a stupid, freaking idiot I really am. But at the moment, I only wanted to sleep and escape all the crud that was heaped up around me.

  Morning came too soon, and with it my parents—only now they were showered and combed and dressed like normal people, something of a relief actually. As we drove home on roads that had already thawed, I told them the whole gruesome story. And to my surprise, it was a relief to get it out in the open. I wondered why I hadn’t done this much sooner.

  “Wow!” said my dad, shaking his head in parental amazement.

  “With friends like that, who needs enemies?” said my mom with a sigh.

  I sighed too. “I realize it was part my fault.”

  “Well, that’s good,” said Dad.

  “I never thought Shawna was that kind of a girl,” said Mom. “She seemed so sweet.”

  “Parents are always the last ones to know what’s really going on or what kids are really like,” I told them.

  “That’s reassuring,” said Dad.

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Speaking of the truth,” said Mom. “I always considered you to be a pretty honest person, Jordan. Of all four kids, I always felt I could count on you to be truthful to me. When did that all change?”

  “I guess it was just part of my desperate attempt to get Timothy back, like I was willing to do whatever it took.”

  “Do you still feel like that?” asked Mom in a hesitant voice, like maybe she really didn’t want to hear my answer.

  “To be perfectly honest, I don’t know how I feel. Or maybe I’m feeling so many things that I can’t figure out which feeling is worth paying attention to.”

  “That’s understandable,” said Dad. “You’ve been through a lot.”

  “How’s the pain?” asked Mom. “It’s almost time for another pill.”

  “I’ll be okay until we get home.”

  “We didn’t want to tell you last night,” began Dad, “but the police told us that your car was totaled.”

  “Just like my life.” And then I started to cry.

  “Oh, honey,” said my mom, turning around in the front seat to look at me. “It’s not as bad as it seems. Last night I was praying for you—”

  “You were praying?”

  “Yes, I happen to pray sometimes. Why?”

  “Well, I know we go to church sometimes, but I guess I never really thought you guys took it very seriously.”

  “You don’t know everything about us,” said Dad, giving me the impression that maybe he prays too.

  “Anyway, as I was praying it occurred to me that God may have had a hand in this, Jordan. Maybe he’s trying to get your attention.”

  “Why didn’t he just kill me?” I said with sarcasm. “That might’ve been easier.”


  “Oh, honey,” said Mom. “You don’t really mean that.”

  “My life is over anyway,” I continued. “I might as well be dead.”

  “The policeman at the hospital said it’s a miracle you’re not dead,” said Dad. “In fact, he made me feel a little guilty for allowing you to get that VW Bug at all.”

  “I loved that car!”

  “Yeah, but the policeman said it crumpled like tinfoil when you hit that stump. He didn’t understand how you didn’t crumple with it.”

  “It was just a stump?” I asked incredulously. “It felt like a massive tree or a brick wall.”

  “Good thing it wasn’t,” said Mom. “You probably would be dead.”

  “They had to use the Jaws of Life to get you out.”

  “Really?” I considered this. “Too bad I missed it.”

  “How’s your head, honey?”

  “Kind of achy.”

  What I really wanted to say was “kind of messed up.” I mean, I know I wasn’t thinking too straight before last night, but now it’s like I can hardly think straight at all. It’s like my head is filled up with this cloud of confusion and it’s going to take me forever to be able to sort it all out and see clearly again. I’m hoping this might be partially the result of my concussion and the meds, but I’m afraid it’s mostly due to me and my stupid choices of late.

  And yet I’m not sure what the answer is to my confusion. Right now all I have are more questions. Questions, questions, questions.

  Like who is really my friend? Certainly not Shawna, and not even Ashley now, and probably none of the girls on the cheerleading squad after they hear what I “did.” And certainly not Timothy. He might’ve even been in cahoots with Shawna’s little sting operation. Not Brett either. Poor guy, he is in almost as much hot water as I am. Maybe I should have handled things differently last night, before the girls got there. But what good would that have done in the end? Kara may still be my friend, but even so, I get the feeling that we’re just too different to be close anymore. Of course, there are always my parents. But that’s different.

  And then I think about cheerleading. I had invested so much time and energy in getting on the squad, and now it looks as if I’m going to be laid up for most of basketball season. I might as well quit.

  And then there are my grades. I don’t even want to think about them right now. Although here is one consolation: Being laid up with this stupid foot, I might actually have time to do some homework and salvage my GPA. Still, what good is a GPA if you have no life, no friends, nothing?

  Then there’s the God question. And here’s what’s really troubling me: When I cried out to God for help, I ended up in an accident that could’ve killed me. Now, if that’s God’s way of helping, well, like my mom said, “With friends like that, who needs enemies?”

  So there you have it, the messed-up life of Jordan Ferguson. What a stinking pile of crud.

  eighteen

  “YOU HAVE VISITORS,” SAID MOM.

  “Huh?” I’d spent most of Monday just resting in bed, putting off the inevitable (returning to school) for as long as possible. I’d even mentioned the idea of homeschool, but my mom was not enthusiastic.

  “Visitors.”

  “Mom.” I gave her a warning look as in, “Do not let anyone in this room,” and then attempted to smooth my hair just in case she wasn’t listening. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to see anyone right now.”

  “It’s just me,” called a voice I instantly recognized as Kara’s.

  “Oh.” I shrugged, realizing that it wasn’t anyone from the “cool” crowd. “That’s okay, I guess I don’t mind seeing Kara.”

  “And Edgar too?” asked Kara as she came through the door.

  “Edgar?” I gave her my darkest look.

  “He gave me a ride. He just wanted to say hey.”

  I rolled my eyes and leaned back on my pillows. “Sure, whatever.”

  “Man, you look awful,” said Kara as she sat at the end of my bed.

  “Thanks.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Everyone at school was talking about you today,” said Edgar.

  I peered curiously at him. Now I just can’t seem to figure this guy out.

  “How would you know?” I snapped at him, feeling rather mean.

  Kara laughed. “Edgar knows everything. I almost always get my information from him, and nine times out of ten, he’s right on the money.”

  He shrugged. “Thanks.”

  “Nine times out of ten?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Edgar with a shy smile.

  “So tell me, Edgar,” I said in a sickeningly sweet voice, “how is it that you know everything?”

  “I guess I’m just a good listener.”

  “He says it’s because people don’t usually notice that he’s around or don’t think he’s paying any attention, but he is,” explained Kara.

  I guess that sort of made sense. I do remember thinking it was odd the way Shawna or Ashley would continue talking about some of the most private things while some nerdy sort of girl was just standing there listening, like the girl was deaf or something. I just didn’t get that.

  “So, what are they saying about me?” I asked. “Not that I really want to know.”

  “Well, there are a lot of different stories floating around,” began Edgar.

  “That’s why I wanted to come over here and see you for myself,” said Kara. “Edgar even overheard someone say that you tried to kill yourself.”

  I attempted what came out as a pretty pitiful laugh. “It figures.”

  “Some kids were saying that you were nearly killed in an accident. And others were saying you’re paralyzed from the neck down,” said Kara.

  “Some even said you were trying to commit suicide after being caught trying to steal your best friend’s boyfriend,” added Edgar.

  “Great.” I groaned as I tried to pull myself up higher in my bed.

  “Here, let me help,” said Kara. And she and Edgar both helped me get more comfortable.

  “Thanks. Did they say anything else?”

  “Some thought you were in a coma,” said Edgar.

  “What were my, uh, friends saying?” I knew using the word friends was stretching it a bit.

  “Well, I didn’t hear everything,” admitted Edgar, “but it seemed there was a division of sorts.”

  “A division?”

  “Yeah. Some of your friends were acting like you deserved what you got, primarily Shawna and Ashley. Maybe Betsy Mosler too.”

  “But she’s such a follower,” said Kara.

  “But there were others, like Amber and Jenny and some of the guys, who felt really bad for you.”

  “But does anyone know what really happened that night?” I asked them.

  “What do you mean?” asked Kara.

  I considered this. Did I really want to tell Kara, and Edgar of all people, how I got totally stung by Shawna Frye? Admitting as much to my parents was one thing, but telling these guys would be pretty humiliating.

  “Can I trust you guys?”

  “Of course,” said Kara. And I knew she meant it.

  Edgar nodded. And it was weird, but somehow I understood, perhaps by the serious look in his eyes, that I could trust him too.

  “It’s a long story,” I began.

  “We have time,” said Edgar as he pulled up a chair.

  And so I told them the whole embarrassing story. And by the time I reached the end, I was crying again.

  Kara actually took my hand. “I’m so sorry, Jordan. That really sucks.”

  “I, I know.” I said. “And I thought these guys were my friends.”

  Kara shook her head. “I tried to warn you, Jordan. I told you they were evil.”

  “They’re not evil,” said Edgar in a quiet voice.

  We both turned and stared at him.

  “What do you mean?” I demanded, ready to throw this nerd out of my bedroom for treason.

&n
bsp; “They’re just doing it all wrong,” he said. “And no offense, but so are you.”

  “What do you mean?” I demanded again. Hopefully, I wasn’t expected to be clever or original when I was in this kind of condition.

  “I mean that you guys are living life for yourselves. You’re leaving God totally out of it, and as a result things can get pretty messed up.”

  Well, I couldn’t deny that things were pretty messed up, but I wasn’t about to admit to anything either.

  “That’s true,” said Kara. “I only figured it out recently, but since I invited God into my life, things have been changing.”

  “I’ll say.” I rolled my eyes.

  “And you’ve been changing too,” she reminded me.

  “Yeah, you mentioned that already.”

  “And do you like the changes?” asked Edgar.

  “What are you guys?” I asked. “A pair of religious shrinks? Maybe you should get yourselves a TV show on that weird church network where everyone has big hair and too much mascara.”

  Edgar laughed. “Hey, that might be kinda cool.”

  “We’re just trying to help,” said Kara in a defensive tone. “We can leave if you want.”

  I waved my hand. “No, I don’t want you to leave. I’m sorry, I guess I’m just feeling pretty bummed and cranky right now.”

  “Understandable,” said Edgar.

  I nodded, liking this guy more.

  “Is there anything we can do for you?” he asked.

  “Huh?”

  “Any way we can help you?”

  I shrugged and then said, “Yeah, go tell all my so-called friends that I was framed.”

  He smiled. “That could probably be arranged.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” My sarcasm was back now.

  “You never know, Jordan,” said Kara. “Edgar has these ways of making things happen.”

  “By praying to God?” I eyed him now.

  “Sometimes.” He smiled. “And sometimes by letting the truth come to light.”

  “Well, I wish someone would let the truth come to light about how Shawna set me up on Saturday night. I mean, sheesh, it’s not like I wasn’t making a fine mess of my life without any help. But why did Shawna feel such a need to help me out?”