He slowly says, “Mind if I take that as a yes?”
I’m melting again. “Not at all.”
“Hang on, Beth. We’ll get it together this fall. I’m working on a plan for you.”
I roll onto my back. “For me?”
“For us.”
“Us? I like the way that sounds coming out of your mouth.” I reach out and touch his rose.
“Us. Us. Us. Us. Us.”
“I’ll miss you like crazy.” My voices cracks, and I have to sniff.
“I love you, Beth. Say it back to me—it’s easy.”
And now—our love is so true, singing that to him makes me cry. “Oh, gosh, I do love you. I really do.”
I curl up in a ball, staring at his rose, trying to hold on to the intensity of the way he makes me feel. I should be angry, suspicious, hurt, but I’m mushy and devoted. I totally adore him. I don’t entirely believe him about the cottage, but he said he loves me, twice, no, three times. He even got me to say it.
No guy has ever told me he loved me.
Certainly not my father.
Scott, though. He said it this afternoon. What was it? I’ve loved you forever. That made me want to cry, too. Do I love Scott? How can I when I feel like this about Derek?
Crap. Scott. I kissed him today. And then ripped his heart out. Poor Scottie. I don’t think I can ever face him again. I’ll have to transfer schools or something.
Derek was so cool about it.
I close my eyes. I can’t sleep. There’s too much spinning in my brain.
Derek hasn’t even told his parents about you. Saying he loves you came too easy, too fast, too smooth. You’ ll never see him again. He will evaporate. How can a boy that perfect exist? He’s some kind of spirit or ghost. Or he is a haunted artist with a bad drug habit like those crazy poets my English teacher is mad about.
I hear Sarah joking about Derek back in our hotel room at the Mermaid. Phantom? No way. That guy was twisted. Derek’s not—crap, how do I know he isn’t? He said he wanted to be with me, but he’s avoided me ever since.
I fall asleep and dream I’m Christine and Derek is the Phantom. I’m in white voile and lace and look like that beautiful girl with Scott in the prom picture.
Derek holds out his hand. I take it and beg him—Take me to your dungeon.
Bind me in your chains.
Keep me
With you forever.
Alone there’s only terror.
He pulls me along dark corridors, singing in dusky romantic tones.Trust me in the darkness
Give me time—you’ ll see
I’m not
Your mad enchanter,
An elusive encounter.
I move into his embrace. His lips are on my face, and I sing back to him.Hold me closer,
And I’ ll keep my eyes closed.
We can hide forever from the sun.
I nestle my head against his neck. In the dream, I’m short enough to do it. Petite. Tiny. He presses me to his heart.Stay beside me, love, and ask no questions.
He just gets the one line. I gaze up at him and drop my song to pianissimo—I’m afraid—how can your love be real?
Is it true or am I dreaming still?
The music gets wild. Scott’s in the dream—running after us, but we lose him. Derek drags me to his lair, and we stay hidden forever. No crystal-shattering screams. No chandeliers crashing. Just Derek and me and the song we sing. It’s not a nightmare. It’s the best dream I’ve ever had.
chapter 19
REALITY
Back to school today. It’s raining out. The gray clouds go great with the gray-metal lockers that line the halls. People I sort of know come up to me. A couple of girls from last spring’s AP history class stop and talk to me. They can’t get over how great I look. I got up early and made myself beautiful. I didn’t bother with flattening my hair—not in this rain—but I did my face almost as well as Meadow’s mom does it, wore that slinky top I was going to wear to see Derek, and my styling skinny designer jeans. Why not show the world what I’ve become?
School is definitely going to be better this year. Colby isn’t here. All of his drones are gone, too. Still, I’m jumpy. Derek’s supposed to call. He gets home Friday. Again.
I thought he’d come home before school started, but then he reminded me, just before he lost the signal, that school isn’t starting for him. I jumped into my usual argument about that, and the line went dead. He probably hung up. He doesn’t like that argument. He knows I’m right. When he tries to explain, he always gets stuck at that place he won’t go beyond. I know it. He knows it. It makes me so mad. I don’t want to be an angry girlfriend always attacking him, so I bite my tongue and remember holding and rocking him like a little boy.
I never want it to touch us. I can still hear the pain in his voice. I want something pure, untainted. Be that for me, Beth, please.
And then I feel creepy for wanting to know what’s behind the lies. He wants to be a different person with me. If it is drugs, that’s a good thing. He could be off at a woodsy treatment place to detox. Maybe he’ll tell me Friday. He’ll be clean, cured, and we can be happy hanging out with each other. Every day. All the time. Nonstop. No more of this.
Gosh. I miss him.
Scott didn’t make the waiting any easier.
I got my old summer job at the library back. They even let me help with the kids’ program this year. The kids aren’t afraid of me anymore. They like me. I ran a toddler story time, and they crawled all over me. The moms just stood there, happy to have their kids pulling someone else’s hair out for a few minutes. I loved it. Every second.
I hated those moms. How they took what they had for granted. How they had what I could never have.
My mom made me see the genetic counselor. He talked about sterilization options, the pill, and gave me a discreet plastic case full of condoms. He mapped out the genetic odds for me.
I wadded up the paper and threw it in my purse with the condoms. “What if I just took a chance?”
He was aghast that I’d even consider it. “You’re too young to take any chances.”
“But, someday.” I looked down at the gleaming tile floor. “I think I want a baby.”
“Adoption is your best option.”
But I want a baby with Derek’s hair and Derek’s eyes. Derek’s voice. Can I adopt that?
On the tail of that pleasant interview, Scott started stopping by the library—every day. Sometimes twice. I thought he’d be weird and hurt. He kind of was at first, but then he was just good old Scott, my friend, but not. I think he grew two more inches before the end of summer. Talk about a late bloomer. He kept asking me out. I almost kissed him again—twice. I came close to giving up and going to the beach with him.
He never brought up Derek. I did—every time I turned him down.
“I have a boyfriend. His name is Derek. Why do you keep doing this?”
He’d move in close, drop his voice all sexy like it was on my front porch and whisper, “I haven’t seen him around. Are you sure he remembers you’re his girlfriend?”