Altered

by Kimberly Montague

  Her mouth was slightly open, her head tilted to the side, and her forehead was wrinkled in confusion. "I—he was going to rehab. He was gonna be okay. His mom, Gary, she said—she said."

  "I know. Come here." He pulled her gently into his arms.

  I was surprised when Sonya leaned into him and even more surprised when Gary rubbed his cheek against hers, hiding behind her long, dark hair. They had spent the last few weeks antagonizing each other through veiled sarcasm, so I really didn't think they were ever going to get it together.

  Their embrace was sweet and touching, and the comfort of the action made my mind wander. I didn't want to think about Jeremy or his smile or my dad's, so I let my mind avoid it. Gary put his hand out and took mine, trying to offer me comfort too, but I knew it would make me break down. I really didn't feel as if I had a right to fall apart under the circumstances.

  I mouthed the words, "I'm okay, going for a walk," and got up when Gary nodded. Looking back at the way Sonya had her eyes closed, resting her cheek on Gary's shoulder, made me think about Jay and made me question how comforted I felt in his arms.

  When my parents died, Jay had been there for me, and I would never deny that. He stood by my side and tried his best to take care of me. He made sure I ate, tried to make me sleep, took care of errands or tasks that didn't need my personal attention, even did what he could for Harm. He was very reliable and helpful and caring. When I needed a hug, he was there to give it, but was his hug any different from Gary's or Sonya's? Did I feel more relieved or more able to breakdown in his arms? I wound up thinking about that all night.

  As I came down for breakfast the next morning, Jay's mom patted the seat next to her. I sat down, and Jay followed shortly after me, flopping down beside me. He took the cereal box nearly out of my hand—he was pretty crabby in the morning.

  His mom, Marie, reached out and placed her hand on mine. "Honey, they're having a memorial at your school today for Jeremy. The guidance counselor just called. If you don't want to go today, you don't have to."

  I stared down at my empty bowl, thinking about what today was going to be like. I wasn't sure how I would handle it, but I wanted to make sure Sonya was okay.

  Cereal practically fell out of Jay's mouth as he spoke. "Why would she need to stay home? She barely knew the guy? I had him in English last year, why aren't you asking me if I want to stay home?"

  Marie looked at him like he'd grown a third eye as I got up and went to the fridge for some orange juice. "Son, dearest, darling child of mine, put the spoon down." The sound of metal clinking against the bowl floated my way. "Wake up out of your morning fog for a minute and think seriously about why death might affect Piper a little more than you."

  I heard the chair scrape against the hardwood floor. I filled my glass and felt his eyes on me. Turning to him, I asked, "You want some orange juice?"

  He pulled out a glass from the cupboard. "I'm sorry, Piper. I'm slow in the morning. I didn't mean to—"

  I lifted my shoulders in a tired shrug. "It's okay, I know."

  "We can stay home all day and watch movies. I'll even let you kick my butt at MarioKart."

  I tried to smile a little at him, but it came out as more of a wince. "No, I want to go check on Sonya. Besides, it'd be worse to sit around and think about it all day."

  "I don't really think so. I think it'd be worse to go and see everyone all upset and everything. We should just stay home and chill. It'll be all depressing there. You don't want to be all depressed, do you?"

  I just stared at him. I didn't expect him to understand everything I was feeling or thinking or agree with any of it, but was it really so much to ask that he just support my choices? Marie cleared her throat, which seemed to bring him back to his senses.

  "Sorry." He grabbed our glasses of orange juice and carried them back to the table. "We'll go, and I'll stay with you the whole day in case you need me. If it is bad, I'll bring us home."

  I gave him a smile, just a small one, but it was all I was capable of. Jay poured me some cereal, which I pushed around, nibbling here and there, but I hadn't really been hungry for days.

  At school, we found out that instead of having classes, we were allowed to spend the entire day in whichever classroom we wanted either working on something or talking about Jeremy. Sonya texted me to tell me that she stayed home with Evelyn, but that she was doing okay. Jay stayed by my side the whole morning, but he felt more like a hovering parent than a caring boyfriend. There were times when I caught him nodding at a friend or giving this "poor Piper" look to people I didn't know. It was like he was trying to score points for supporting his poor mentally unstable girlfriend. I was tired though, and hadn't eaten properly for several days, so I had to admit to the possibility that I could be reading into things.

  Toward the end of the morning, I got angry at a math problem that was clearly mocking me and Jay patronizingly did the work for me without even asking. That's when I had enough. He was trying to be supportive, but was just doting and smothering. I tried to subtly tell him to tone it down a bit, but he didn't take the hint, and I didn't want to be mean to him. So I claimed that I needed to go to the library for a research paper.

  The library was one of Jay's most hated places. He'd seriously ticked off the main librarian in some incident sophomore year that he claimed was huge and unforgettable, but I'd since forgotten the story. I had been fine all morning, so it wasn't a big deal that he was leaving me alone. I certainly didn't anticipate a breakdown by any means, but when I walked into the library, I soon realized my error.

  I forgot that they had a small memorial set up in the library. There were several enlarged photographs of Jeremy set up and smiling at me. There were lots of flowers—Calla Lilies—the flowers of death, it seemed. They'd been everywhere at my parents' memorial. The librarian ushered me in with a kind tone although my mind was too overwhelmed to take in her words. I meant to turn back around and walk away, but before I knew it, I was in the center of a group of my classmates.

  "Piper?" Crystal was walking to me, her eyes red and swollen. Her voice was warm, but hoarse. "It's so sad isn't it? I can't believe he's gone."

  For several moments, all I felt strong enough to do was nod in response. After a few deep breaths, I managed to finally speak like a normal human again. "Were you close?" I asked.

  "I've known him since I was seven. We weren't bffs or anything, but he lived down the street from me." She nodded in the direction of a younger version of herself with the same short wavy hair and olive skin. "My little sister was with his sister when the police came to tell them."

  "I'm sorry. Do they know what happened yet?" I tried to be as gentle with my questions as possible. I didn't want to pry at such an upsetting time.

  Crystal nodded and stared out the window vaguely. "He ran away from rehab. They found him—" She swallowed hard. "He overdosed."

  "What—I'm sorry. It's not something I should be asking at a time like this."

  "No, it's okay. I'm okay. I liked Jeremy, but I've been more upset for my sister and his family than for myself."

  "I was just wondering what drug it was?"

  She pinned her lips together and shook her head. "They're not releasing that information, even to his parents."

  "Was his cousin friends with that other guy from Independence? Dave—" I was interrupted by the school psychologist who called for everyone to take a seat. I sat down next to Crystal in the back of the area set up for the memorial.

  As each classmate stood in the front of the room talking about Jeremy to the group, tears ran down most of their faces. Crystal got up to move next to her sister who was just a freshman—too young to deal with such things. Alone and surrounded by grief, my mind flashed back to my parents' memorial. It was too much, too similar, too unfair that their lives were taken—I had to get out of there. I stood up, unable to keep my eyes from the tall guy in the front retelling a story about Jeremy and started backing away. I tried my best not to see the faces
of my parents' friends in the people around me.

  I could feel the grief weighing me down, making me panic. My heart started beating to the tune of a heart attack, and my forehead beaded with sweat. As I turned to navigate my way out of the room, I couldn't breathe. Tears fell down from my eyes, and I missed Harm so much in that moment that it pressed down upon my chest. I rushed toward the door, ignoring whatever it was the counselor was trying to say to me as I bolted out the door.

  Outside, the fresh air hitting my face did more to calm me down than anything. Away from the faces and the flowers, I was able to get control over myself again. That feeling though—the grief, the sadness, and the faces of my mom and dad wouldn't leave my head. I had to figure out how to drown them out, I had to do something.

  I started walking toward the locker room. The closer I got, the faster I moved until I had my PE clothes on and was running around the track as fast as I possibly could. Burning off the pain and sorrow with extreme exertion always worked for me, and after an hour of running my heart out, I felt better. I turned to walk back to the locker room, and my muscles screamed loudly while my ankle throbbed in some pretty major pain.

  "Are you supposed to be running like that on your ankle?" The sound of Devlin's voice not ten feet from me made me jump at least a mile. He was leaning against the fence separating the stands from the track. His relaxed pose made it clear he'd been standing there a while. "In pain?"

  I realized I had been wincing and tried my best to relax my face. Taking another step, pain shot through my ankle again, not as severe as when I originally injured it, but certainly noticeable enough to make me wince again. Devlin must have noticed the wince as well since he pulled away from the fence and was quickly by my side trying to make me lean into him. I resisted at first. I wasn't in the mood yet to take comfort of any kind from anyone, but the pain forced me to let him support my weight.

  "You know, you just wouldn't be as cute if you only had one leg to walk on. Of course, I'm sure they could get you a wooden peg leg, and you could wear a matching eye patch. I hear pirates are like the in-thing."

  I somehow managed to roll my eyes at his comments while hobbling my way alongside him. I cringed with every other step.

  He squeezed my waist. "You just got off crutches; did you really think a workout was a genius idea? Especially sprinting?"

  "I just had to… stop thinking."

  "About Jeremy? He was a good guy."

  "No and yes. I mean, I only barely knew Jeremy, but I accidentally wound up at his memorial in the library. It was—it just reminded me of my parents—of their memorial. It was hard, not that it shouldn't be. That sounds awful doesn't it? Jeremy is gone, but here I am moaning about myself." I stopped hobbling for a moment, taking a break from the pain.

  He didn't take his hand away from my waist, and I tried hard not to think about how much I liked it being there. "It's not awful, Evie. It's normal to think about people you've lost at a time like this."

  "Do you think about your brother a lot?" When he readjusted his arm around my waist, I worried that my question made him uncomfortable. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry."

  "It's okay, I just don't usually think about him during sad times. I try to remember the good times. It’s like if you only remember the bad stuff, you'll avoid remembering them. You start associating them with sadness and not want to think about them. I don't want to ever be that way."

  "I hadn't thought about it like that."

  His eyes flared wide. "Therapy."

  That surprised me. I just couldn't imagine him in therapy being all serious. "You went to therapy?"

  He nodded and nudged me to start hobbling again. "I was only twelve when he got sick. We all started therapy then and kept going until just after he passed away. It was mostly crap, but there were a few useful bits and pieces. Tell me something your dad did that made you laugh."

  I only had to think for a second before an image came to mind. "This one time, my mom was sick, so my dad took Harm and me with him to the grocery store to let her rest. Harm started flirting with one of the checkout girls who was way too old for him and pretended he wasn't with us. So dad picked up a rubber plunger and put it under his arm and did this like long-legged ostrich walk up and down the aisles with an aluminum cake pan as a top hat. He looked so stupid." I shook my head at the ridiculous memory, and I could feel Devlin's chest bouncing with light laughter as we hobbled farther.

  I continued with the story. "Harm went up to the register to pay for some gum or something, but dad came marching up, plunger and all, and tossed his arm around Harm's shoulders. He asked where the laxatives were cuz his little boy was really constipated. I laughed for days."

  "Is this the brother in Special Forces?" he asked, sounding a little shocked.

  "Yeah, but this was when he was still in high school and thought he was God's gift to women, which he kinda was. He was popular and funny and a football player."

  "My kinda guy."

  "Yeah," I laughed. "I think he'd actually like you."

  "You sound surprised."

  "He—well, he doesn't like my boyfriends."

  '"How many do you have?" I had to laugh at that. The idea was both funny because I'd only ever had one in my whole life and ironic because I had one and wanted another one, but kept trying desperately not to.

  When I remained quiet, he shifted topics. "So when are you coming back to PE?"

  "Tomorrow." I hadn't meant to, but it sounded like I was talking about being dragged to my execution.

  He chuckled. "Don't sound so thrilled there."

  "Sorry. How's it been, anyway? Have you been forced to teach any other poor uncoordinated souls?"

  "I wouldn't say you're uncoordinated. Baseball may not be your thing, but you're fast—I was timing you just now."

  I slowed down to question him. "How long were you standing there?"

  His face was completely neutral. "I haven't had to work with Nicole since you've been out, so that's been good."

  Ahh, evasion. I could see his change of topic a mile away. "You're not going to answer my question?"

  His arrogant grin made my heart run sprints. "I plead the fifth and refuse to answer on the grounds that it may incriminate me."

  As we got closer to the locker room, he lessened his grip on my waist. "Jay's looking for you. It's how I knew you were out there. I'd better let go of you before we're seen."

  "Wait, how did you know I was there? I mean, I get how you knew I was missing, but how did you know where I went?"

  He tapped the tip of my nose with his index finger. "Lucky guess, Evie." He walked backward several feet, keeping his playful eyes on me and then disappeared around the corner.

  So many emotions warred within me when I was around him that I didn't know which end was up. I couldn't help but wonder when I'd get to be around him again then felt insanely guilty about it.

  Human Electrical Orb

  "I can’t just not go, Jay." I was trying to keep my voice even, but he was really pissing me off. "It’s Gary’s birthday party."

  "So you’d go to a party without me? Who would you dance with? What if Devlin asks you to dance? Would you say yes? Have his freaking hands all over you?"

  The way he said Devlin’s name made my jaw clench, but I managed to pull together enough strength to make my face relax. "So if Gary asks me to dance, I should say no?"

  "That’s different, and you know it!" He got up off his bed and stomped his way to the window. With his arms locked tightly across his chest, he reminded me of a sulking child who is well aware he isn’t going to get his way.

  "No, I don’t. Devlin is just a friend. You’re my boyfriend. Why do you have to be so jealous of him all the time? Don’t you trust me?"

  "Of course I trust you." He sat down heavily on his bed. "I convinced my parents that you were completely capable of being left home alone this weekend while we're at the convention, even though they’re all freaked out about this whole Independence thing. If I
didn’t trust you, I would have made sure you were coming to San Diego with us. It’s not you I don’t trust, it’s him."

  I threw my hands up in the air and walked away from him towards the door. He had no idea how hard I had been working not to like Devlin, and it all seemed worthless. "So I have no say in what happens? I’m so weak that if he says, 'kiss me,' I’m just gonna fall into his arms like some simpering idiot?"

  "That’s not what I meant."

  "Then what did you mean, Jay, because I’m getting really fed up with this conversation!"

  "I don't know." He fell back on his bed and stared angrily at the ceiling.

  Pushing him wasn’t really fair. He was right after all. I liked Devlin, and I was pretty sure he liked me back. But I'd been working so hard to fight that. I didn't want to hurt Jay, but I was so mad about being persecuted for the exact thing I was trying so hard to resist.

  "Why don’t you figure out what you mean and get back to me then?" Tossing him an irate roll of my eye, I stomped out of his room and into mine, slamming the door in the process.

  Lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, I tried to figure out how I got here. I loved Jay, had been devoted to him for seven years, and here I was picking fights with him over a guy I had only known for a few months. What on earth was I thinking? I tried to think about being in love with Jay, about feeling that fluttering in my stomach for him, or about constantly wanting to be near him like I did with Devlin. I tried to make myself feel all of that for him and just couldn’t. Somewhere along the line, we had lost that connection—if we ever truly had it. It felt as if I couldn’t remember a time when we hadn’t been "together," even before I had understood what "together" meant.

  The only question left now was: what on earth I was going to do about it. Curling into a small ball on the bed, I let my hands roam across the stitching on my quilt, focusing on the details and feel of the cool fabric against my angry, overheated skin. If getting older continued to mean complications like this, I wasn’t sure it was going to be worth it.