They both laughed at that. At least, Phoebe thought Karen was laughing. Phoebe's cheeks felt warm.
"Anyway," Karen said after a time, "I wish I could write like you. I think that was part of why Tommy is so into you. He likes the arty types. Music and poetry, deep feelings."
"You aren't arty?"
"Not very ...creative, I'm afraid."
Phoebe caught a hint of sadness in her voice, ever conscious that whatever inflection and emotion she saw was a conscious decision by Karen. Looking at her, at her platinum blond hair swept over her shoulder, her diamond eyes sparkling above pale high cheekbones, Phoebe wanted to tell her that it didn't matter if she was "arty," because she was walking art. But she wasn't sure how Karen would take the comment, so she kept it to herself.
"Tommy wanted me to kiss him," she said instead. "That would be a typical thing, yes."
"He thought it would bring him back to life. Or partly back, or something."
"Well, you did, I hope."
Phoebe looked up at her with confusion.
"Kiss him?"
"Oh. No, I didn't."
"You're kidding."
"No, I didn't kiss him."
"Why not?"
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"I don't know."
"Why? Because he's a zombie?"
"Well, yeah. That's part of it. But it was just weird, anyway," Phoebe said. "I've never kissed a boy. Not really." "You're kidding."
Phoebe bit her lip, thinking about her botched attempt with Adam.
"Phoebe," Karen said, her eyes glittering, "you had a boy believing that your kiss would bring him back to life, and you didn't kiss him? That takes playing hard to get to a whole new extreme."
Phoebe started to laugh, and when she did, Karen leaned in and kissed her on the side of the mouth: a cool, feathery kiss that was over before Phoebe could react. "There," Karen said, sitting back. "You kissed a zombie and survived. Next time you see Adam give him one of those, but with more feeling. Who knows? You might even bring him back from the dead."
"I didn't kiss a zombie," Phoebe said, resisting the urge to wipe her lips. Karen wore peach lip gloss. "A zombie kissed
me."
Karen thought that was hilarious. "Whatever," she said. "I'll let Adam know he'll have to make the first move." Phoebe could no longer hold her gaze, and turned away.
"I don't think so."
She said it softly, because she wasn't really sure that she wanted Karen to hear her.
"What do you ...mean? Adam is absolutely crazy about you--you must know that."
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Phoebe shook her head. "No."
"Phoebe." Karen gripped her arm. "He's been all puppy dog ...for you since ...forever. You're joking, right? He told me ... he was."
"He told you? When?"
"The night he ...died." She didn't look away when she said it. "He was going ... to tell you."
Phoebe's breath caught in her throat, the only reply she could manage was shaking her head.
"What ... is it? Did something ...happen?"
When words came, they did so in a rush and a sob. "I tried to kiss him! He ... he pushed me away! Tommy told me ... he told me a kiss would bring him back to life, but I tried, and Adam ...Adam pushed me away!
Karen's arms were chilly around her. "Oh, honey." Karen rocked her, and Phoebe felt so stupid and helpless.
"I guess he'd rather be dead than be with me."
Karen held her up straight. "No, sweetie. Don't you think that at all. That isn't it. He loves you, I'm sure of it."
"Then why would he do that?" She looked around the room for some tissues, but Karen didn't really have a great need for them. Finally she found a package in her backpack. "If he's so crazy about me, why would he practically shove me on the floor when I tried to kiss him?"
Karen smiled at her as she wiped tears from Phoebe's cheek with her cool fingers. "Phoebe, you have to think like a guy for a minute. Worse, a zombie guy. One of the most confused and ...confusing ...beings on the planet."
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"What do you mean?"
"Look at it from a guy's point of view. Here's ...Adam, superjock ...extraordinaire ...and not only can he barely walk, or talk ... or anything. Even when he was in ...full command ... of his game, he couldn't express his feelings, could he?"
"He always had girlfriends."
"Yeah, he was really serious about those ...airheads, too, wasn't he?"
"I think he was expressing himself pretty well when he pushed me onto the floor."
Karen's look was so deadpan at the bitterness of Phoebe's words that Phoebe couldn't help but giggle. Karen laughed with her.
"Phoebe, does Adam know about what Tommy said to you? About kisses bringing the dead back?" "I don't know. Maybe."
Karen nodded. "That might be it too. He might not believe that you really ...love him. He might think you're just going through the motions to try and resurrect him. He might think that what you feel is guilt, not love. Think about it--he's loved you for a billion years, and you never seemed to notice until he ...died."
"How do you know he's loved me for a billion years? Did he tell you that?"
"Not with words."
Phoebe was skeptical. And, she realized, a little jealous. What did "not with words" mean?
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"Phoebe?" "What?"
"Do you ...love him?"
She had an answer prepared for that question; she knew it would be coming as a normal part of the conversation they were having, but as soon as the question was asked she forgot the answer.
What she remembered instead was the way she felt when Adam appeared out of nowhere to save her life. She remembered what it was like when they were together, when they were younger, reading comic books or going swimming at the Oxoboxo. What she remembered was how strong he was, what he looked like in his suit, and how he was always, always there for her when she needed him.
And then she remembered how she felt when she was with Tommy, and confusion crept in.
"I... I don't know," she said. "I think so ... I really think so, but I'm not sure."
Karen nodded. "I think maybe you are."
"But I'm not sure. How can I be sure?"
"You'll get ... a chance. Adam will ...come around. He just needs to get...his confidence back."
"You think?"
"I'm sure of it. And forget... about kisses and all that stuff. That isn't really what's going to bring him back. Love will bring him back. Love works."
"You seem to know a lot about guys."
"I know some things." Karen winked, and it was a perfect,
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flawless wink, as if she'd been practicing. It startled Phoebe so much she laughed out loud.
"Karen," she finally said, to break the awkward silence, "we were supposed to be working on the Web site, weren't we?"
"Oh yeah," Karen said with an exhalation that was very much like a sigh. "Maybe we should just wait until our next work study at the foundation," she said. "At least then we'd get paid for it."
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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
"AGAIN," MASTER Griffin said. Did same form one hundred and seven times, counted. One hundred and eight. "Again."
One hundred and nine. "When ...will ... I ... be ...
ready?"
Griffin squints, reaches, adjusts arm. Lift arm.
"When you can grab the pebble out of my hand. Again."
One hundred and nine. Stare.
"I'm kidding, Adam. Is something the matter? You seem distracted today."
Distracted, he said. Not distracted, dead. Been a zombie for weeks and can barely move. When living, mastered this form on day one, two or three tries. One hundred and ten.
Griffin crosses arms. "Adam, let's take a break."
One hundred and eleven. Look at Master Griffin never
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took a break not once in whole year of practice. Griffin sits on the mat, motions to sit in front of him. Griffin crosses legs, lotus.
Can't do that. Can't even sit. Sort of flop.
Griffin waits, stares. "Adam, something is troubling you."
No joke, sensei. Dead, or hadn't you noticed? Griffin smiles. Everyone's a mind reader these days.
"The girl who brought you to the dojo," he said. "It's her, isn't it?"
Stunned. Stunned so only the truth will come out. "Yes."
Griffin nods. "You have had feelings for her for a long time."
Not a question. Statement. Griffin looks, laughs.
"Don't look so surprised. You've studied with me for months now, and I've heard her name a dozen times. T played Frisbee with Phoebe.' 'Phoebe likes milk shakes,' 'Phoebe likes strange music' When you are quiet, you hear things that other people don't actually say out loud."
Shut my mouth. Master Griffin not a talker. Says "again," "again," "again." Higher, faster, use the instep. Quiet.
"Listen more. I haven't heard you say her name since she brought you here last, and today you have trouble with the most basic forms. And not because you are a zombie. Because your mind is elsewhere. With her."
With her. Yes, with her.
"I listened to her when she was here, also, Adam. I watched you both."
Breathe. Tried to breathe. "What...should ... I do?"
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Griffin shakes head.
"I don't know. You made a choice on the night you died, no? A choice for her. You cannot let the results of that one choice absolve you from choosing for the rest of your life."
Smile.
Griffin returns smile. "Sorry. Existence, whatever we term it. I am glad you are listening!" "She ...needs ...to ...live."
Griffin sits, patient and frowning, waiting for me to finish. "She ...needs ...to ...forget ...me." Griffin inhales. "Is that what she wants, Adam? More importantly, is that what you want?" Don't answer. Can't
Griffin, serious. "You have a choice to make. Your heart, beating or not, will tell you what to decide. Keep listening."
"How was karate?" Joe asks, driving home. "Good."
Choices. Pushed Phoebe away. Hurt her. Chose to hurt her. Chose to die for her. She chose ...what? Chose to waste time on FrankenAdam.
"Phoebe hasn't been around a while." Just drive, Joe.
She chose, why? I thought guilt. Think guilt. Who am I? What am I?
"Kind of strange, when she was over every day." Won't quit.
"Hurt...her ...feelings." "You hurt her feelings?"
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Nod. Manage smooth nod. "Well, you better apologize, and quick." Joe's right, Master Griffin's right. FrankenAdam's wrong. Choice would be Phoebe. Choice always was Phoebe. "You listening to me? You need to apologize to her right away."
"Miss ...her ...cooking?"
"Do I what? Do I miss her cooking?"
Joe hits, actually hits, with knuckles on my arm. Don't feel it. Funny.
"You love her, you big idiot!" Ramped up, now. "And she loves you! You're smarter than that." Real smart. "Was ...joke."
"Real funny. You better apologize to her." Apologize. Choice always was Phoebe. "I...will." "You better." "I...will."
Phoebe was surprised to see Adam at the door. He hadn't crossed the thin patch of grass that separated their yards since falling on Mischief Night. "Hey ...kid," he said, "can ...I ...come ...in?"
"You never had to ask before," she said, holding the screen open for him.
"We need ...to be ...invited," he said, his hand slapping at the screen and stepping inside.
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Phoebe turned so that he couldn't see her smile.
"So," he said, "what are you ... up to?"
"Just getting ready for school, same ol' same ol'."
"Doing anything ...after ...school?" he said.
"I'm supposed to have a driver's lesson," she said. "But I'll be home around five. Why?"
"Funny," he said, "I always thought ... I'd be the one ...teaching you ...how to drive."
"Me too," she said, sitting down at the kitchen table and taking her bowl-size mug in both her hands. "The gearhead next door."
"Me," he said, pointing at himself, his thumb about even with the bullet hole over his heart. "Want to ...toss ...the disk around ...sometime?"
He stopped his shuffling to look at her.
"I'd love to," she said. "Getting a little cold, though."
"Good," he said, "that's really ...good. Frisbee ... I mean ...not ...the cold."
She sipped her coffee. "Taking the bus today?"
"Yep."
"Can I sit with you?"
"Well," he said. "I ...guess ...so."
"It doesn't have to be in the same seat. If you're afraid of your dead friends seeing you."
"You know ...how they can get," he said, smiling at her. She thought that even his smile looked more like it had in his pre-death days, much less a rictus. "All bent ...out of ...shape."
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"Okay," she said, "I'll try to be discreet."
There was a lot they could say there, she thought, in the quiet kitchen, a lot that had gone unsaid and a lot about what had been said, but for the first time she felt that nothing needed saying. The link, the bond--call it friendship, call it telepathetic--that had been broken was there again, radiating in the air between them as palpably as the aromatic steam rising from her cup.
"It is ...almost...time," Adam said. "Can ... I take ...your ...bag for you?"
Her negative reply was reflexive, but the bond enabled her to catch it before it was out of her mouth. Adam, who in a hundred small ways, through opening doors and driving her to work and carrying bags and holding coats and letting her pick songs on the stereo, had not been able to do a single thing for her in the past two months.
"That would be great," she said, nudging her heavy bag from its place beside her chair with the toe of her boot, "because it is pretty heavy."
"Good ...thing," he said, "that I am ...pretty ...damn ...powerful."
"Good thing," she said, and excused herself to get her coat, hat, and gloves.
"Phoebe." He touched her arm.
She turned, and when she did, he leaned forward and he kissed her.
Kissed Phoebe gently gently didn't want to hurt her. Can't hurt
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her hurt her enough already. Kissed her. Long but not too long. Steps back is she angry is she horrified is she happy? She's shocked.
"Adam," she says, and she's sad. Made her sad crying tears and then "Adam" again and she hugs, her arms are tight around and she's holding like she doesn't want to let go. Like she never wants to let go.
Hug her back. Gently.
She looks up. Kiss.
No magic. No instant resurrection, no return from the dead. No bolt of lightning that starts the heart and pumps the blood. Can't move faster, can't speak more clearly.
But
Oh the kiss.
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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
HE KISSED ME Phoebe thought, as they walked to her locker. It's
all she could think about.
Adam had to duck beneath some poorly hung strands of garland as they walked. Phoebe again fought the urge to mother, to take the bag from him at the door so he would have time to shuffle (walk, she reminded herself, walk) down to his own locker and have a chance at getting to class on time. But she didn't. Adam was a big boy and being dead made him slow physically but not mentally. He wanted to do this for her and she needed to let him.
"Company," he said. She looked through the puffy-coated crowds milling through the hall and saw Margi waiting for her at her locker. She waved and Margi blew them both kisses.
"Thanks, Adam," she said, accepting the heavy bag back. He nodded and blew a kiss back to Margi, managing a fair approximation of a sneer as he did it.
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They watched him walk back down the hallway, where he was joined by Thorny, whose red-and-green elf hat looked oddly appropriate on his curly head.
"Hey, Pheebes,"
"Hey, Gee."
"Goo
d to see you and the Lame Man all chummy again."
"Yep. We're chummy."
"Did he ask you to the Winter Jubilee yet?"
"No," Phoebe said, a quip about Adam probably having a healthy aversion to school dances dying on her lips. "Where's Colette?"
Margi sighed. "She didn't finish her algebra assignment last night, so she got to class early to work on it."
"She doesn't have to sleep, but she still didn't finish her homework?"
"I know, kind of crazy. If you didn't have to sleep you'd probably have a sequel to War and Peace written by Thursday," Margi said. "But we got to talking last night, and you know how that goes."
Phoebe paused in the careful stacking of her textbooks to look at Margi and saw that the darkness around her eyes wasn't all eyeliner.
"Uh-oh," she said.
"Nah, it was good," Margi said. "Deep but sans drama. We've all had enough of that lately."
"Mmm. So what did you spend all night gabbing about then, if I may ask?"
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"Well, we started off by talking about you and Adam, if you really want to know." "Margi," Phoebe said.
"No, hold up, it wasn't like that either," Margi said, leaning into her and giving her a nudge. "It was all hugs, smiles, kittens, lacy underwear."
Phoebe slammed her locker and waited for her to finish.
"And then Colette said, 'You know, Gee, you haven't spent any time with Phoebe lately. Just the two of you. We've gotten together, the three of us, and that's been a hoot, and we've gotten together with the Dairy Queen--"
"The Dairy Queen?" Phoebe said.
Margi bit her lower lip. "That's what we call Karen."
"The Dairy Queen? Margi, that's terrible!" Phoebe said, but she was laughing. "I know. I know, I know. It's wrong. We don't mean anything by it, other than she's well, a little frosty. And very, very, white."
"Terrible."
"I know. We're just evil. Well, C.B. is more evil than I am ' 'cause she thought it up. Anyhow, she was saying how we all get together, but you and I never get together anymore, just the two of us. And how, before she, like, died, and Adam died, you and me used to hang out all the time."
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