Chapter 13
A REN'T YOU GOING TO watch the basketball game with me?" Ken's father called to the person he thought was his son.
Amanda paused at the bottom of the stairs. This was sticky. Ken was seriously into sports, and he probably watched all the games on TV with his father. But she'd prefer to be alone in his room and wait for Rick to contact her.
They'd been "talking," or whatever it was, most of the day. Amanda couldn't remember ever having spent an entire Sunday sitting alone in a bedroom doing absolutely nothing, not even leafing through a copy of Teen Vogue. But it was so absolutely fantastic to be able to concentrate completely on communicating with Rick without any distractions.
But now Ken's mother was looking at him-her strangely, too. "You always watch the Sunday-night basketball game with your father," she said in a worried voice.
Now she was going to start talking about taking him to the doctor again. "Sure, I want to watch the game. I just wanted to go to the bathroom first."
"Why are you going upstairs?" his father asked. "Use the one in the hall."
She hadn't even noticed that there was another bathroom downstairs. She really had to get her act together if she wasn't going to raise any suspicions-- especially if she was going to stay inside Ken's body for a while longer. She wasn't in any rush to get out. Not now, not with Rick in her life. She was in love with him.
When she came out of the bathroom, she went into the den and flopped down in the big, fat recliner.
"Hey," Ken's father cried in outrage. "Since when do you take my chair?"
"Just joking around," Amanda said, leaping up.
"What's gotten into you lately, boy?" Ken's father muttered. He picked up the remote control and turned on the TV. Amanda just hoped he wasn't the type who liked to have running commentaries during the game. She was praying that Rick would contact her, and she could pretend to pay attention to the TV It was easy to figure out which team Ken and his father supported, so mostly she just needed to shout when they scored and growl or mutter when the other team sent a ball through the basket. She thought she could do this and talk to Rick at the same time.
But she didn't hear from him. She tried to keep her mind open, empty, welcoming, but she heard nothing. And she started to worry. Could Rick have figured out that she wasn't really Ken? She'd been trying very hard in their conversations not to sound girlie, but something could have crept in. Her feelings were becoming so strong that she might have given herself away. Fear clutched her heart. What if he never came back?
She waited and waited and tried not to let her despair show. She couldn't have been doing a very good job, though. Ken's father kept glancing in her direction worriedly. Then Ken's mother came in with a plate full of chocolate-chip cookies.
"Your favorite," she announced, putting the plate on the coffee table between the recliner and the sofa where Amanda was sitting. "Don't let your father have any--he's on a diet."
Chocolate-chip cookies were the last thing in the world she was interested in at that moment. She was so nervous that she thought she'd throw up if she took one bite. So when Ken's father made a move toward the plate, she murmured, "I won't tell." At least some cookies would be gone when Mrs. Preston came back.
Rick didn't show up, and by the time the game was over, she was in agony. She kept going over and over the last conversation they'd had that afternoon. She'd been thinking about the Public Gardens, the place Rick and Nancy used to go, and Rick had recited some of his poetry Had she not been enthusiastic enough? She'd loved the poetry, and while he'd recited it, she'd imagined herself as--well, herself, listening to this sensitive soul express his love for her. Maybe she could have expressed her reaction in a better way, because ever since she'd become Ken, this was the longest they'd gone between conversations.
Luckily for her, the favored team lost, so she had an excuse to look unhappy.
"Don't take it so hard," Ken's father said. "Bailey's knee will be better by next week and they'll come back."
"Right," Amanda said, without the slightest idea who Bailey was. "I'm going to hit the sack--I'm wiped out."
Once again, she got that worried look from Ken's father. It was only ten o'clock, and she doubted Ken went to bed this early. But she couldn't stand it any longer.
She decided she was going to try to contact Rick. She recalled that time in class when Emily had asked Ken if he could contact her father. She couldn't remember if Ken had said he couldn't, or if he just hadn't wanted to.
Up in Ken's room, she turned off the lights and got into bed. Closing her eyes, she visualized the boy she'd seen in the photos and cleared her mind of everything else.
Rick. Are you there? Can you hear me? Talk to me, Rick.
She heard nothing.
Please, Rick. I need to talk to you. I have to tell you something. It's important.
It was at this moment that she realized she wanted him to know who she really was. It was a big risk. Maybe he'd be horrified to learn he'd been pouring his heart out to a girl. But how could she have a real relationship with him if he thought she was a boy?
How can I have a real relationship with him if he's dead? she asked herself. But she didn't have to answer that because suddenly Rick was there, inside her head.
Hi, Ken.
Rick, hi! I'm so glad you're here!
Yeah? Well, I am. You said you've got something important to tell me.
Was she imagining it or was there a distance between them? She wanted to kick herself. Of course there was a distance--he was six feet under or in heaven, or whatever there was after life.
But he felt so very, very close. She couldn't go on lying to him.
I'm not Ken, Rick.
What are you talking about? Of course you're Ken -- no one else can hear me.
My name is Amanda. I'm inside Ken's body.
There was no response. She tried to explain.
I'm what's called a body snatcher. But I occupy bodies only of people I feel sorry for. I was feeling sorry for Ken, because he can't play soccer since he had an accident. And I became him. So that's why I can hear you.
Should she go into the whole story, about how she had wanted to make Ken ask her out? She was still debating this when Rick spoke.
Wow! I can't tell you how happy I am to hear this.
Why?
Because I was getting these feelings for you. The kind of feelings I didn't expect to have for a guy.
She wondered if he could hear her gasp.
Really? You mean, like the feelings you had for Nancy?
Exactly. The way you understood my poems . . . You really got them, what I was trying to say.
I love your poems. I keep pretending they're about me.
Had she really just said that? It was so not like Amanda to let a boy know how she felt! Amanda played it cool. Amanda played hard to get. She was on a pedestal. A guy had to work for her--he couldn't get her affection this easily.
But Rick could. Rick had. She didn't care if Rick thought she was too easy, too available.
They could be about you. My poems. You're better than Nancy. She never had feelings as strong as yours. You're amazing! You feel so deeply, so strongly, for other people that you can become them!
If only he knew how hard she'd tried all her life to avoid caring and feeling for others.