When Rose Wakes

by Christopher Golden

  Rose felt sick. She fought the urge to avert her eyes.

  “You seem to do an excellent job of it all on your own,” Rose said.

  Seeing the moment unfolding, half a dozen of their classmates had moved nearer and they were close enough to hear the exchange.

  “Give it up, Courtney,” a gray-eyed guy named Nathaniel said. “She’s obviously not afraid of you.”

  “Face it,” said a girl, sidling up to Nathaniel and rolling her eyes. “In a battle of wits, you’re unarmed.”

  Snickers followed Courtney out into the hall. Nathaniel fell into step with Rose as she left her homeroom.

  “Watch out for her,” the gray-eyed boy said.

  Rose thanked him, not knowing what else to say. It seemed like he wanted to talk more, maybe to walk her to class, but she hurried away. As much as she appreciated the new, strange attention she seemed to be getting from guys, the only one she wanted walking her to class was Jared. Every time she saw him, she wanted to kiss him. He wanted to travel the world, and though she was only beginning to get to know him, she wanted to take that journey with him. Her lips still remembered his kiss all too well and her body vividly recalled the way his hands had held her and caressed her back.

  The intensity that had developed between them on Saturday night had not abated at all. If anything, being in school together only stoked that flame. Rose felt as though they shared some huge secret, this electric thing between them, and sometimes the smiles they exchanged would turn into soft, shy laughter as they marveled at how strong these new feelings were. They held hands under the table in the cafeteria and after math class on Monday afternoon, Jared guided her into the shadows beneath the second floor stairs in the west wing and kissed her for a few precious seconds that left her breathless.

  Rose had been awake for almost two months, but somehow she felt that the events of the weekend had been her real awakening. Her fear and paranoia weren’t completely gone, but with Kylie’s help she felt like she was managing them better. Her dreams, too.

  Sunday and Monday mornings she had woken with only vague notions regarding what she might have dreamt about, and what little she recalled seemed fairly innocuous. The two nights that followed brought more strange nocturnal visions, but they seemed to have been robbed of the fear that had infused them before. The dreams were changing. In some of them she found herself a young girl, still the princess of her nightmares but in a more pleasant time, wandering her father’s castle or exploring the ever-changing paths of the Feywood with the sprite, Rielle. Every morning on her way to school she would talk to Kylie on her cell and give her a dream report. Tuesday at lunch, Kylie suggested she start writing them down, that they were almost like stories already and that she could make use of them, turn them into some kind of fantasy novel. Rose shrugged the suggestion off, but it stayed with her, and now she was considering starting a dream diary.

  Rose felt like she had found the calm at the center of her emotional storm. Jared and Kylie were each partially responsible for that, but she had to admit to herself that she had contributed to that new peace and stability as well. Yes, she still found herself looking over her shoulder in public in case the pale woman should reappear and shivering whenever she spotted a crow perched on a ledge or branch, but as the days passed and “Coma Girl” became part of the fabric of St. Bridget’s, she felt more confident.

  At home, that confidence helped her manage her relationship with her aunts. She had begun to pay more attention, to understand what she ought to say—or not say—to avoid getting them into a panic over nothing.

  Her memories still eluded her, but for the first time she felt as though she was truly forging a new life, which made it easier for her to confront the idea that her memory loss might be permanent, that this might be her life from now on. Once, the thought had caused her horrible anguish, but now, somehow, it seemed to her there were far worse fates. If this truly was her life, now, she had begun to think that might not be so terrible.

  Yet in spite of the way her life seemed to be coming together, when the last bell rang on Wednesday afternoon Rose found herself just as nervous and off balance as she had been the week before, perhaps more so. Kylie and Dom had spoken to the music teacher, Mrs. Welch, about letting her join the chorus even though rehearsals had begun weeks earlier. Mrs. Welch had agreed and though Rose had been uncertain from the beginning about her level of interest in chorus, Kylie and Dom had persuaded her. She had sung just a little snippet of a song she’d learned from listening to the radio, just for Kylie—who had hounded her relentlessly until she had given in—but that had been very different from this. Kylie had told her she had a great voice, but she was Rose’s friend. She had to say that. Now Rose was supposed to sing in front of the chorus teacher, maybe in front of the whole chorus.

  Despite Rose’s nervousness, she found herself swept along by the tidal rush of Kylie’s enthusiasm as the three of them—Rose between Kylie and Dom—hurried along the basement corridor toward the music room.

  “You look like you’re about to puke,” Dom said, glancing at her with concern.

  “I’ll try not to splatter you,” Rose replied.

  Kylie laughed, but Dom put a little more space between himself and Rose just in case she wasn’t kidding. It had been a joke, but Rose did feel a little queasy. If she had ever sung in front of people before, it was yet another experience lost in the fog of her missing memory. She took deep breaths as they reached the music room and joined the other choir members trickling in.

  “Mrs. Welch!” Kylie said. “Rose DuBois is here!”

  She seemed proud of herself, like a cat that’d just dropped a dead mouse at its master’s feet. Dom nudged Rose toward the teacher, who smiled in greeting.

  “Hello, Rose. Glad you could make it,” Mrs. Welch said.

  “Me, too,” Rose lied. “I just hope I don’t disappoint you.”

  Mrs. Welch apparently sensed something in her voice, because she cocked her head slightly and took a closer look at Rose.

  “I’m sure you won’t. But if you’re not comfortable—”

  “She’s totally comfortable,” Kylie assured the teacher, shooting Rose a look that was half smirk and half admonition. “Rose loves music.”

  “I do,” Rose agreed, still focused on Mrs. Welch. “But that doesn’t mean I can sing. If I’m not any good, please tell me. I don’t want to…”

  Mrs. Welch frowned. “Don’t want to what?”

  Rose glanced around the room. At one end were locked cabinets and at the other a baby grand piano. There were chairs stacked against a wall along with music stands, but otherwise the floor was clear. Rose shifted awkwardly. Dom and Kylie had hung back but were close enough to hear whatever she said, but the rest of the chorus had gathered in front of the cabinets in a somewhat orderly cluster, prepared to be called into formation at any moment.

  “I’m the coma girl, Mrs. Welch,” Rose said, her voice low. “I appreciate that Sister Anna and my teachers are making an effort to keep me involved. But I don’t want any special treatment because people feel sorry for me.”

  “Good,” the teacher said. “You won’t get it here. If you can’t sing, I’ll tell you.”

  Rose blinked. Though she’d asked Mrs. Welch to be frank, the bluntness still surprised her. She reappraised the woman, took in her copper-dyed hair and her stylish clothes and the long, delicate hands of a musician. She was serious about her work, and Rose liked that.

  “Thank you.”

  Mrs. Welch smiled. “Don’t thank me yet.”

  Then she turned to the rest of the chorus and clapped her hands. “All right, my friends, let’s get to work.”

  Kylie and Dom steered Rose over to the group, who organized themselves into four rows. There were about forty students in chorus. Dom was one of only five guys, male voices placed apart from each other in the larger group of females, apparently to integrate the sound. Rose expected Mrs. Welch to place her somewhere specific, but then realized t
hat the woman hadn’t yet heard her sing. For now, she could remain with her friends, which eased her mind a little.

  “Okay, ladies and gentlemen,” Mrs. Welch said. “We’ve got a new face with us today. Some of you may know her already, but for those who don’t, say hello to Rose DuBois.”

  Mumbled greetings followed, along with small waves and nods. Most of the chorus regarded her with open curiosity, some even with what seemed suspicion or disdain, probably wondering if she could sing. Rose was wondering the same thing.

  “Let’s try to start with something Rose will know, get her acclimated,” Mrs. Welch said. “Rose, if you stay with us, you’ll be expected to learn the repertoire. But for the moment, let me see…” She ruminated a moment, then brightened. “How about ‘Viva la Vida’?”

  Rose tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t think I know that one.”

  Or I don’t remember it, she thought. Put on the spot, she realized how few of the songs she was likely to know. She’d had a couple of months to listen to music, and from conversations with Kylie and Jared, she knew that she had developed limited but eclectic tastes in that time.

  “You don’t know Coldplay?” Mrs. Welch asked, surprised.

  Rose shrugged apologetically.

  “What about Jason Mraz? Or Bob Marley? We do a lot of classic songs, but I’m trying to think of something you’re more likely to know. Wait, we do ‘Defying Gravity’ from Wicked. Do you know that show?”

  “Sorry, I don’t.”

  She heard a murmur from amongst the chorus but was glad she couldn’t make out the comment. Several people gave her dubious looks. She tried to think of something she could suggest, but couldn’t imagine the chorus doing songs by any of the bands she had started to get into.

  “The Beatles?” Mrs. Welch asked hopefully.

  Rose nodded. “Sure. What song?”

  “‘Let It Be?’”

  “I know that one,” she said quickly, leaving out the fact that she only knew some of the lyrics.

  “Finally,” Dom muttered, sneaking her a smile.

  Rose laughed, though she was sure most of the choir felt the same way.

  “All right, good,” Mrs. Welch said. “We’ll run through it once so you can get comfortable. Just try to sing the same part as Kylie and I’ll get an idea of how best to utilize you. Now, Peter starts. Everyone ready?”

  Mrs. Welch raised her hands like a conductor and Rose felt the entire chorus stand at attention, awaiting the signal. With a nod, she gestured to a heavyset blond guy, apparently Peter.

  “When I find myself in times of trouble…” he began, in a strong, clear voice with just a touch of vulnerability. Rose felt inspired, listening to him.

  Just a dozen or so words in—at “speaking words of wisdom”—the rest of the chorus joined in. Rose missed the cue, surprised at its abruptness, but she loved the sound, the way their voices all swelled together. She could feel the music inside of her, let it fill her up. They were not all gifted with lovely voices, but together they made the song beautiful.

  Peter sang another solo line, and this time she was ready, chiming in with the rest, tentatively at first. She sang along with the chorus and by the time the second verse began she felt her inhibitions vanishing. Breathing deeply, listening to Kylie, she opened her mouth and sang, putting herself into the music, raising her voice with the others. It felt to her like taking flight, like something that had been caged within her had been set free.

  So deeply involved with the music, at first she did not notice other voices faltering and dropping off. But by the time they reached the second chorus, she realized that all but a few had stopped singing entirely. Rose glanced around and saw them all staring at her, including Kylie and Dom—even Mrs. Welch—and a wave of sickening humiliation crashed over her. She wanted to cry and run out.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, dropping her gaze to the floor. “I shouldn’t have… I didn’t mean… I’ll go.”

  “Rose?” Mrs. Welch said, shaking her head in what could only be disbelief.

  With a sigh, Rose looked over at Kylie. “I told you,” she said, and she extricated herself from the group and started for the door.

  “Rose!” Kylie called.

  Dom broke from his position and started after her. “Wait!”

  Others started talking all at once, people saying her name, but she wasn’t listening. Only when Mrs. Welch spoke in the authoritative voice of the teacher did it actually get through to Rose.

  “Miss DuBois, please stop.”

  Hesitant, wanting to bolt, face flush with embarrassment, and knowing that she should never have come, Rose looked at her and for the first time saw something else in the expression on the teacher’s face. Mrs. Welch wasn’t horrified by what she’d heard. Her look was one of wonder.

  “Rose, that was beautiful.”

  “What?”

  Mrs. Welch smiled and gestured to the others. “They stopped singing to listen to you. I’ve been teaching music and voice for fifteen years and I can honestly say that has never happened before.”

  Members of the chorus nodded in agreement. Kylie beamed.

  “Really, Rose,” Dom said. “It was amazing. Just… wow.”

  “Dom’s not the most eloquent,” one of the girls added. “But I can’t really think of a better word myself. Your voice is amazing.”

  Rose exhaled, almost shuddering with relief and happiness. “Really?”

  Mrs. Welch took her arm and guided her back to her spot beside Kylie. “Really. You’re going to need to pull it back a little, to blend in with the rest of the chorus, to weave your voice into the mix. But we will definitely be looking for opportunities to exploit that gift of yours. I’m already thinking of songs.”

  Rose was smiling so wide that her face hurt. She received nods and thumbs-up and Kylie gave her hand a little squeeze and leaned over to whisper in her ear.

  “Welcome to chorus.”

  Rose squeezed back. She wanted to thank Kylie but she didn’t know how. This, the music and the thrill and the enthusiasm, was a real gift, and Kylie had been the one to give it to her.

  “Now, let’s start again,” Mrs. Welch said. “Rose, try to rein it in a little. We’ll run through it a couple of times and then take a look at our song list. You’ll have to follow along today, but you need to start learning the other songs.”

  “Absolutely,” Rose said.

  Once again, they began to sing. And it was bliss.

  At lunch on Thursday, Rose sat beside Jared and picked at the turkey sloppy joe sandwich and cold french fries on her plate, wishing she had followed her initial instinct and just gotten a salad. She glanced over to check the line, trying to decide if it was worth a second trip to change her mind.

  “Hey, you okay?” Jared asked quietly.

  Rose looked up and discovered that Kylie, Jared, and Dom were all watching her.

  “What?” she asked, suddenly worried she had smeared sloppy joe sauce on her face or something.

  “Nothing,” Kylie said. “It’s just, you look distracted. Like something’s on your mind. You didn’t say anything about nightmares this morning, but—”

  Rose silenced her with a look, but not fast enough.

  “Nightmares?” Jared asked.

  “I have them sometimes,” she replied. “Not a lot. I mean, I did when I first woke up, but not lately. Not really.”

  She knew she was babbling and stopped herself. Kylie made an apologetic face, but Rose couldn’t be mad at her for trying to be a good friend. She’d slipped, that was all. Lying to Jared made Rose uneasy, but if she was ever going to tell him about the nightmares and the paranoia that had been plaguing her, it certainly wasn’t going to be in the middle of the cafeteria.

  “So what is bothering you, then?” Dom asked. “I mean, if I had the week you’ve had, I’d be dancing.”

  Kylie scoffed. “Oh, sweetie, nobody wants to see you dance.”

  “I know,” Dom said. “It is n
ot pretty.”

  “It’s like a seizure,” Kylie said, patting Dom on the head and nodding to Rose and Jared as though in sympathy. “The boy’s a spaz.”

  “All right, they get it,” Dom said drily.

  Rose smiled, but she saw that Jared remained concerned, and Kylie and Dom’s teasing each other was to make light of their own worrying.

  “I’m fine,” she assured them.

  “Are you sure?” Jared asked.

  With a shrug, Rose picked up a cold french fry and bit it in half. “Yeah. I mean, no. This lunch is repulsive. But otherwise, yeah. Dom’s right. A week ago I walked in here like I was being thrown to the lions. That’s how I felt. But it’s all turned around now. I mean, people are generally okay to me, despite me being freaky amnesia Coma Girl. Chorus is amazing. And you guys… I’m just really lucky to have you. Somehow it’s all turned around now. Well, not everyone’s a Rose DuBois fan, but I’m fine with that.”

  “So why do you seem so serious today?” Kylie asked.

  Rose took a deep breath, trying to find a way to express the trepidation inside her.

  “You know how it feels outside when a rainstorm is coming? Like the air is heavy and the clouds are just waiting to crack open and let you have it? Things have been almost too good this week. It feels kind of surreal, like it’s too good to last. I can’t help thinking it’s all going to fall apart.”

  Kylie took a bite of her Cobb salad, gesturing with her fork.

  “How many times have we talked about the paranoia thing, DuBois?” Kylie said, affecting a tough-guy edge that became silly thanks to her talking with her mouth full. Somehow, with her, it was charming. “We. Us. Your friends at this table? We’re not going anywhere. And chorus? You’re like a goddess there. Instant superstar.”

  Dom leaned back in his chair. “It’s totally understandable, though,” he said, looking from Kylie to Jared to Rose. “Whatever life you had before that you can’t remember. It got taken away from you, so you’re afraid it’ll happen again.”

  “What are you, her psychiatrist?” Kylie teased.

  Rose laughed and threw a french fry at her.