“Are you all right?” Joshua’s staring at me. I keep walking, gravel crunching beneath my feet. Pressure pounds on all sides; the storm is approaching fast.
When we reach Joshua’s car, I ask him, “What made you think of your mother?” A leaf blows and tangles in my ponytail. I pull it out and hold it by its stem.
Joshua toys with his keys, flipping them back and forth, pursing his lips. They jangle and the silver flashes. “How did you know I was thinking about her?”
I shrug. “A guess.”
He scowls. Roughly, he shoves those bangs out of the way to glare at me. Sorrow remains close by, but Anger joins us. He says nothing, just grasps Joshua’s shoulder and pointedly ignores me. “You know what I realized?” Joshua snaps. “You lie a lot, Elizabeth. I’m not stupid.”
“What do you think I’m lying about?”
He makes an abrupt gesture toward the house, my room. “You didn’t make that drawing up. No one can make up that kind of pain. It was real, even if I don’t know what it’s all about.”
Clouds gather above us, and thunder rumbles, warning us that it’s coming. There’s just a light sprinkle now, but I know it’ll get worse. The leaf is delicate in my fingers. Joshua doesn’t even notice the drizzle. He keeps glaring at me, waiting for me to speak.
Finally I just shrug again, as hollow inside as ever. “You want the truth? Fine. I don’t know why I drew that. I dream about it. But I’m not like you; I’m not sad, or suffering. I don’t feel anything.”
His eyes become dark shades of disappointment; he thinks I’m still lying. It’s the way humanity is; give them what they want, and it turns out it’s not what they wanted after all.
“Whoever that person is,” Joshua says, his voice thick, “you care about him. I saw it on your face when you touched him. I watch you in class sometimes,” he adds suddenly. My mind scrambles to adapt to the subject change. “I’ve never seen anyone so sad. It’s why I was interested, at first. I thought you were the only person that could understand. But then I saw something more.” The sky opens up and the rain comes down without restraint. Joshua reaches down to unlock the car door, swiping at his nose with his sleeve. He avoids looking at me now and the rain plasters his hair to his head.
“What more did you see?” I prompt, when it’s apparent that he doesn’t intend to say more.
Surrounded by Emotions, Joshua opens the door and plops down into the driver’s seat. The engine starts with a sputter and a cough. “I saw you,” he says simply. Then he slams the door in my face, putting the car in reverse. The Emotions dissipate one by one.
I stand alone and quiet as he leaves. His words play like a record in my head, again and again. They hold no meaning; he can’t be right.
His red taillights turn at the end of the driveway, and then he’s gone. Soaking and cold, I turn to go back into the house. Just before I slip inside, I remember the leaf and let go of it. It flies away, snatched out of my fingers by the greedy wind. I watch it soar over the corn stalks until I can’t see it anymore.
Thirteen
Four days without seeing Fear. Four days without his games, his tests, his watchful presence. This is what I’m thinking about as Mrs. Farmer drones on about the different kinds of poetry there are. I keep thinking of Fear. There have been stretches of time over the years he’s stayed away, of course, but recently he’s been a constant presence. The fact that he’s gone pokes at something within me. Speculation fills my head. He’s up to something. He’s found something. And the most insistent possibility: something happened to him. He did break the rules by healing me. Could he be out there somewhere, dying, helpless, alone?
You don’t care, my little voice reminds me. To affirm this, my numb wall stretches taller.
“There’s free verse, as well, which has become more popular in modern times … ”
Sophia, her head bent down in concentration—the pic-
ture of a model student—is writing a note. Her pencil scribbles across the paper furiously. As I watch, I suddenly recall the piece of paper I found on my windshield. ARE YOU HER? Was Sophia the one who put it there? Judging from the tense line of her shoulders, whatever she’s writing right now is intended for me. She looks exhausted again. I know her mom works nights at the clinic and her dad left them when they were small. Besides the babysitter, Sophia has no one to help her watch Morgan during those long hours.
When Mrs. Farmer isn’t looking, Sophia is quick, tossing a crumpled-up ball over her shoulder. It lands on my desk with a soft rustle. I debate whether or not to open it at all, but I figure it’ll appease Sophia for a time if she thinks she’s hurt me.
I unfurl the lined mess. You’re not normal, she’s written. They should lock you up and throw away the key.
Maybe.
The handwriting doesn’t match the other note.
Sophia and one of her friends laugh softly under their breath. They glance back at me, expecting a reaction. I sniffle for effect, and this pleases them. The two girls turn their backs, whispering to each other about nothing that interests me. Humans are cruel. Sometimes worse than the Emotions and the Elements.
It strikes me how I’m thinking like I’m not human, myself. Like I’m not one of them.
“For those of you who’ve forgotten, your portfolios are due this Friday. Make sure you finish, guys. They’re a big part of your grade!” Mrs. Farmer calls. I glance at Joshua, who’s hiding behind his hair.
Joshua. He hasn’t spoken to me since he left my house, so angry and sad and suspicious, but throughout the lecture he’s struggled not to glance over his shoulder. He wants me to think he’s not affected by what happened yesterday, but in truth, he blazes with yearning. He yearns to understand, he yearns to know me. In many ways, Joshua reminds me of Fear.
When the bell rings and it comes time for lunch, he catches up with me in the hall, giving in to his desires. “We need to work on the portfolio,” he says sharply. He’s still irritated. He knows I’m hiding something.
I nod, spinning the combination on my locker. “I know. I don’t have time today; my dad wants me home right after school. But we can start talking about it at lunch tomorrow if you want.”
“What’s wrong with lunch today?” he counters, challenging me. He brushes his hair out of his face. I wonder why he doesn’t just cut it.
We walk again. “I’m going to the library to do research.”
“Research for what?”
He steps in front of me, stopping our progress in the middle of the hall. Kids part around us like a wave, some bumping into us, changing and evolving to the disturbance without thinking about it.
I arch my neck to look up at Joshua, studying his resolute expression. His scent drifts to my nose, a mixture of pine and hay and soap. “My past,” I say.
Joshua absorbs this for a moment, pursing his full lips. “Okay.” He nods. “I’ll go with you. We have to stop at my locker first, though.”
Where’s the timid boy I’ve known most of my life? He disappeared so quickly, and the Emotions that used to always surround him are now absent in this new assurance he’s found. “I never said I wanted company,” I inform him with raised brows.
Now he reddens. So a part of that shy boy is still there, I see. He’s a strange combination of grins and blushes and silent contemplation. “If you want to be alone … ” he begins to say, stopping in relief when I shake my head.