He sounds pained. “Sia . . . you know this hasn't been easy for me.”
“Really? You could have fooled me.”
“I'm doing what's best for both of us.”
I shake my head. “I don't buy that. You're just afraid.”
Now he meets my eyes. It's the first time he's really looked at me since we danced. And kissed. “Yeah, well, aren't you?”
“Yes. I'm afraid about lots of things . . . but not about being with you.”
“Sia,” he replies quietly. “I . . . ” He searches for the words. His walls seem to be shattering, and I feel hope bounce around in my stomach. But it's short-lived. All I get is a brisk, “I'll see you later.”
Then he walks away. Again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
People don’t bother waiting until the end of the day to drop off donations. Kyle, Roberta, Tiff, Ben, and I are excused from most of our Friday classes. It was either that or have the school secretary pop into our classrooms a dozen times per hour, telling us people had come to leave money and food for the project. The TV interview really helped spread the word. When everything’s stacked, we discover we need two trucks to drive it all there. I have a stack of checks and a pile of cash, which is great because for every dollar we donate, the Red Cross can buy fresh items, like milk and produce. Still, carrying all that money makes me nervous, so I tuck it in my locker. I can grab it tomorrow morning before we set off.
In the afternoon, Stacy comes out to help me sort through boxes. One of the boxes I come across has a little note on it. As I read it, I start to laugh.
“Stacy, look at this,” I say. “It’s from Amber.”
She takes the note and reads it. But instead of laughing, Stacy tilts her head and puckers her lips, like she’s looking at a picture of a baby bunny. “Just because they’re homeless doesn’t mean they have to get fat,’” she reads, putting a hand to her chest. “Aw, that’s so sweet!”
I frown. “What’s sweet about that?” I peek in the box. It’s loaded with canned tuna, diet sodas, and other low-carb foods.
“Can’t you see, Sia? She’s apologizing.”
“Really?” I chuckle. “Some apology.”
“Oh, trust me. For Amber, this is huge. She never apologizes for anything.”
“So this is progress?”
“Oh yeah.”
I’m exhausted when I finally get home, but it’s a good kind of exhausted, one that can only come from working hard for a good cause. My fingers are hacked apart by paper cuts. My arms and legs have bruises from the boxes. Yet none of that can take away from the satisfaction I feel.
In spite of being overtired, I can’t sleep. I lie in bed for hours, thinking about everything. What awaits us at ground zero? Who will we meet? I have no answers, and that’s not helping my stress. I try to relax by focusing on the positive aspects of my life. For starters, it’s great to have Stacy back as a friend. And, like she says, at least Amber’s making an effort, even though she still won’t approach me. Stacy says Amber was standing in the background during the TV interview, watching. She’d told Stacy afterwards that I did well, but needed a different outfit.
I’m getting along well with the other kids, too. Kyle’s friends have completely—finally—accepted me. Unfortunately, neither Roberta nor Tiff can offer me any insight on Kyle. I asked them about his feelings for me, but they were equally stumped.
“I thought he was flipped out on you,” Roberta said. “Now he won’t even talk about you unless he’s talking about the project.”
“Sorry,” Tiff said on his behalf. “But you have to understand. Kyle’s great, but he’s still just a guy. They just don’t get the concept of sensitivity, you know?”
Don’t get me wrong. I do understand his fear. I know he’s afraid I’ll forget about him when my memory returns, that I’ll toss him aside for Duke or some other jerk, and I guess I can’t blame him. Nobody knows where this amnesia came from or what it’ll eventually do. When I woke up that day, I remembered nothing.
What if the reverse happens the same way and I wake up remembering nothing again?
Which way will I go?
How will I end up as a person?
What if I have to relearn all the same lessons?
Like I said, I can’t blame him. But I also can’t say it doesn’t crush me. He and I have come a long way, from his yelling at me in the soup kitchen to that special moment at the Vanity Fair party.
A tear slides down my cheek, and I don’t bother to wipe it away. I’m entitled to tears, I figure. Carol had said that if I cry, it’s because I need to cry—and I do. Despite the strong front I've been putting up, my heart is in so much pain. Every time I catch Kyle’s eye, he looks away as if he might catch the flu.
Eventually I fall asleep, but before I know it, my alarm is ringing. Even though today is going to be hectic, I'm anxious to get started. The plan is to meet at the school at seven a.m. to fill the trucks. We’ll have two trucks going, one rental and one borrowed from the bakery. We’ll leave the school at nine a.m. because it’s a long eight-hour drive to ground zero.
I get dressed in a hurry. Mom drives me to school because she wants to see all the excitement. Once we arrive, she saunters over toward the other parents. Some are watching the action and others are pitching in. Dad had wanted to come, but he got a last-minute call from Travis. We all have our fingers crossed for him.
When a shiny black limo pulls up, I peer over with curiosity. I’m overjoyed when I recognize the long, slender legs that poke out of the car door. Alyz is here! It doesn’t matter if she’s in a daring gown or a pair of skinny jeans and t-shirt, she still catches everyone’s eye.
I’m flying with the excitement of the morning. Dozens of kids are there, and everyone’s smiling. For the first time in a long time, happiness vibrates in the air around me. No one’s picking at each other, fighting between factions.
“I'll be right out,” I tell Kyle. “Gotta get the cash from my locker.”
Our plan is to rotate between the two trucks. This will mix it up a bit, so we don’t get sick of each other during the long drive. It was Roberta’s idea, and I think it’s a good one. I’d like to get to know her and Tiff better anyway.
I’m whistling cheerfully by the time I get to my locker and open the combination lock. It’s hard not to be proud when I think back to the beginning, when nobody wanted to help. I reach to the top shelf of my locker to grab the little box where I’ve been stashing all the money. I open it and peek inside the envelope full of checks; I get such a rush every time I see all those zeroes!
Yet as I reach for the cash, my mind goes blank.
It’s not here. It’s . . . gone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
I stare into the little box, not understanding. I know I put both envelopes inside it—I did that purposefully so I wouldn’t have to carry it all. But there’s no cash in the box. I pull out the check envelope and flip through everything, thinking I might have stuck the cash in there by mistake. It’s not there, either.
By now my fingers are shaking and my pulse is pounding in my temples. I counted the cash yesterday: a total of $5,385. Kyle had told me to put it in the bank for safekeeping and have my dad write a check to cover it, but I didn’t want the money showing up in my family’s account. It just felt wrong.
Now it’s gone. The money’s gone!
I put the empty box back on the shelf, then grab it again so I can peek back behind it. I mean, I know I’d put it there. Maybe it slipped out. Maybe I’d been distracted and dropped it in my locker somewhere. I check every square inch like a maniac but find nothing. And it’s not in my purse. I start breathing heavily.
Out of habit, I click the lock closed then turn toward the exit. How can I go out there? How can I face all those people without that money?
Not ready for that, I lean back against the wall of lockers and close my eyes, willing myself not to cry. Think, Sia! I must have done something with it and just forgot. I must
have taken that envelope and put it somewhere else. Could it be at home?
I pick up my cell phone and call Beatriz. While I’m talking to her, I have to keep gasping for breath. My heart beats wildly.
“Calm down, Sia,” she says. “I’ll call you right back.”
I sink to the floor and draw my knees to my chest, then drop my forehead on them. There’s nothing I can do now but wait.
When the phone rings, Beatriz has bad news. “I can’t see it anywhere,” she says. “I checked your pockets, too.”
“Under the bed?”
“Yes. Even through your shelves and drawers.”
I hang up and drop my head again. This can’t be happening.
“Sia!”
Stacy has finally arrived and is now waving me over, grinning from ear to ear.
I should tell her. She’ll help me. No, I can’t. I made the mistake. No one but me should get buried by my mess.
“Come on!” she calls.
I struggle to my feet. My head is buzzing, making voices sound very far away, and I assume it’s from my pounding heartbeat.
When I reach Stacy, she frowns. “You okay?”
I nod vaguely.
“Because you look, like, all pale and stuff.”
“Headache,” I manage.
She rolls her eyes. “Oh. I totally get that. Here.”
I accept the Tylenol she hands me and swallow it back dry. If I don’t have a headache now, it’s pretty much guaranteed I’ll have one soon anyway. As we step outside into the happy crowd, the guilt hits me even harder. I’m afraid I might throw up.
Stacy leads me over to where she’s been standing with Roberta and a couple other girls. They’re taking in everything. Most of the crowd seems clustered around an empty table.
“What’s happening?” I manage to ask.
“Kyle is going to make a speech,” Roberta tells us.
“I thought he hated the spotlight,” I say.
She gives a little shrug. “He does.”
Someone has brought over a small microphone and speaker. Kyle climbs onto the top of the table so everyone can see him. He’s already embarrassed, but not as bad as during his TV interview.
I pray he doesn’t look at me. I’m not sure I can handle those green eyes at the moment. I know I’ll have to tell him, but I want do it when no one else is around. I can’t face anyone else with the bad news.
“I just want to thank everyone,” he says. He waits while someone adjusts the speakers for feedback. “Thank you for making this project such a huge success. I never could have dreamed we’d do so well. And I couldn’t have done it on my own, that’s for sure. Anybody want to know the grand total?”
The crowd cheers.
Kyle clears his throat. “In addition to all this food, and the boxes of clothing and blankets, we raised $165,385 in cash. On behalf of the Red Cross and all the San Francisco earthquake victims, I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart.” He turns toward me and blood rushes into my cheeks.
I blink hard. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
“And I want to thank one person in particular for going above and beyond. Thanks, Sia. You really took this fundraiser to the next level. Thank you for all your hard work.”
Everyone cheers and claps, and Stacy squeezes me in a hug. It’s a surreal moment. Just a few days ago, no one would even look at me. Now they’re applauding me. Even the other cheerleaders come over to show their appreciation. Amber included. I see her smiling face in the middle of the group and can’t help feeling grateful that she's there. Maybe she’ll have a change of heart like Stacy one day.
When I peer toward the front door of the school, I see my mom standing beside Alyz, beaming at me.
And for Kyle to publicly express his gratitude toward me, well, it warms me to the core. Maybe he and I aren’t meant to be together. Maybe we’re just supposed to be friends. I thought we were more—it felt right to me—but it doesn't look that way anymore.
No. Definitely not after he finds out what I did.
I sigh. How could this have happened?
God, I hate my scrambled brain for betraying me. I hate the amnesia. I hate that instead of recovering memories, I seem to be losing them. What if that ER doctor was right? What if I do need psychiatric help?
Kyle hops off the table and comes toward me.
I fight the urge to run. I’m suddenly drenched in sweat.
His smile falters. “What is it, Sia? You look sick.”
My voice trembles. “I feel sick.”
He frowns. “Maybe you shouldn’t chance riding in the truck, then.”
“It’s not that kind of sick.”
His head tilts a little. He cups my elbow in his hand and leads me away from the crowd. When we’re alone, I have no choice. I try to swallow the lump in my throat so I can tell him the truth. He deserves to know.
“What’s up?” he asks.
I hand him the envelope of checks. “I want you to keep these with you.”
“Okay. But why?” He tucks the money in his pocket, keeping his eyes on me.
“I . . . I lost the rest.”
“What?”
My chin is quivering, and I want to die. “It’s gone. The money’s gone. It was in my locker. I’m sure I put it there, but it’s not there anymore. I don’t remember where it is.” The dam breaks and tears stream down my face. “I forget so many things! I’m such an idiot.”
It takes a second before he reacts. “Don’t panic,” he says. “We’ll find it.”
“We won’t. I’ve already looked. I’m so sorry, Kyle.”
For a single, selfish moment, I wish so badly that he’d hug me, hold me, do something to help me through this. But he doesn’t move. He just stands there, deep in thought. I have no right to expect any understanding from him, and I know that. I’ve lost over $5,000. What kind of moron does that?
“Just calm down, Sia. It’s somewhere. We’ll find it.”
A horn honks in the parking lot.
Kyle closes his eyes a moment. I wish I could read his mind right now.
“That’s the truck,” he says, though I already know that. “We have to go. We still have one hundred and sixty thousand dollars to donate, along with all the other stuff.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.”
“Sia, don’t be so hard on yourself. So much of that money came from what you did. Sure, it stinks that we can’t give the Red Cross everything today. But we’ll get it to them eventually.”
“I promise to pay back every cent.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not your fault.”
“Of course it is!”
His hands curl around my arms and he squeezes gently. “This is supposed to be a triumphant day, Sia. A day when people are happy. Just drop this for now, okay?” He offers a little smile. “It’ll all work out.”
I just nod. I can’t believe he's letting me off this easily. No yelling, no guilt trip.
“You coming?” he asks, stepping away from me.
I rub my hand over my face and sniff again. My eyes feel like sandpaper. I can only imagine their lovely shade of red. “I’ll be there in a minute. I want to compose myself before going out there.”
“Okay.”
I go straight to the bathroom and splash cold water all over my face. I’m not sure it’s helping the way I look, but at least it’s bringing down some of the heat. I grab a paper towel and stare at my reflection while I dry my face. Endless questions swirl around in my mind.
When will I get better?
Or will my memory keep deteriorating?
Am I heading toward another complete mental breakdown?
I honestly don’t know. All I can do is wait and see.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
When I step out of the bathroom, I see Amber at her locker. She turns toward me, and I get the feeling she’s not surprised to see me there. “Hey, Sia,” she says. Her cool smile instantly droops into a faux pout. “Were you crying? What’s wrong, sw
eetie?”
No way I’m going to cry again—and definitely not in front of her. I suck in some air and shake my head. “It’s nothing.”
“No?”
“No.”
Her smile’s back. “Okay. Well, I’m glad I ran into you,” she says. I raise my eyebrows.
She nods. “Yeah. I wanted to talk with you about something.”
The horn sounds again. I flick a glance past her, toward the exit. “I’d love to talk, Amber, but I have to go. Can we do it tomorrow?”
She scoffs at the truck. “They can wait. Did you get my donation?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks for that.”
“Fabulous. So, like, I was thinking that this has probably been a tough time for you, right?”
I nod slowly. “You could say that.”
“I understand. It’s been really hard for me, too—you know, seeing you hanging with all those . . . new people.” The words seem like a challenge for her. “And doing all this fundraising stuff.” Her eyes widen for emphasis. “You’re, like, inspiring people. This whole charity thing is so . . . what’s the word?”
I stare, then shrug, waiting for her to fill in that blank.
“Noble.” She smiles, proud of herself. “Yeah, that’s the word. And you ran the whole thing, which was cool.”
“No. Kyle did that.”
She waves a little dismissive hand. “Anyway, thank God it’s almost over. Now, I’m pushing the limit, but I’ve decided to give you another chance. When you return from this trip, you may rejoin the cheerleading team. And we’ll try to get past all this weirdness.”
I try not to smile. One thing about Amber is that she’s consistent, if nothing else.“I don’t think so, Amber.”
Her entire face frowns. Her eyebrows almost touch in the middle, and her lips tighten as if she’s trying to hold in a scream. She takes a deep breath. “But why?”
“I’m happier now,” I say. “I don’t have to pretend all the time.”
“Pretend? What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about always having to have the right clothes, the right makeup, the right walk, the right boyfriend—everything. It’s exhausting, putting up that façade. Life’s much easier now that I’m not a full-time beauty queen.”
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