"Just that he reads her like a book, gets her to talk, even makes her laugh. Since we've arrived here, she's replaced me as the person he's most likely to spend time with. I'm making a point here, about all of us, not just Cora. It's dangerous. We're in a game of rolling the dice. None of us should put it all out there and risk falling in love. Not until—"
"See, that's the difference between you and me," I snapped, fighting the urge to add jerk face. "This is when you do put it all out there. I haven't entirely stopped thinking of Miss Haley's speech, but today, instead of thinking about elephants, I'm thinking about how an outsider would view us."
"How is that?"
"Two brothers from Trinity Falls, in the prime of their lives before this came down, who happened to be sent away to live, kind of isolated, with two girls in the prime of their lives. We're supposed to pretend we're nine years old? Somebody's going to break down and start spreading germs around. And you know what I say? Leave your brother and her alone. Better to have loved and risked the loss."
"I disagree."
"Maybe you don't have any feelings." I sighed.
"Maybe I have the most feelings. Ever think of that?"
I let him gaze at the screen while I started to think about elephants again. I started to do a couch version of the Dreaded Fifteen, to the point where I was imagining clothes flying and total skin against skin. Truth? He's got chronically wet and shiny lips that always drove me mad. I was thinking about how I might get my way when I realized he was staring intently at the screen, his jaw suddenly downward.
I turned. All I could see on the screen was a rock on the ground. It was like the camera had been turned over.
"What did I miss?" I asked.
He leaped up and hit the OFF button. Then he stumbled backwards and plopped down on the couch all agog.
"Who was it?" I asked. "Who was she with?"
He shook his head slowly about five times. He said, "Oh my god."
Because he generally thought "Oh my god" was a curse and not a good thing to say, I just sat there waiting. I waited what I thought was an eternity while he got up and walked to the window and stared out in horror.
"Who was it?" I asked, which snapped him into turning around and coming back to the couch, where he stared at the floor.
"Rain. If you never promise me anything else as long as I live, promise me you will never look at that tape. Then you can never tell Cora what's on it. Maybe she'll ... never ask."
"Why would I tell?" I asked, ruffled.
"Because you tell everything."
I flipped around and stared at the blank screen, not knowing whether to be upset. It seemed like I only had two talents people would find notable: crying and talking. I turned my thoughts to Cora and how she'd been through enough hardship. She didn't need more. But I kind of thought that Owen had either misinterpreted something or was overreacting. Whatever Cora's mom had done wouldn't shock me.
I almost said as much. But Owen had worded himself funny. The usual saying is, "If you never promise anything else as long as you live..." He had said "as long as I live."
Owen secretly thought he was going to be Godfrey's statistic. He might toy with the idea that I could be it, but that's not what he really thought. I didn't know what to do with that. I promised, grabbed for the remote, and put on Nickelodeon.
THIRTY-FIVE
CORA HOLMAN
MONDAY, MAY 6, 2002
9:00 A.M.
DINING ROOM
THE REALITIES of agreeing to take the cocktail set in Monday morning when I sat at the breakfast table. We took what amounted to a handful of pills every morning—two a half hour before breakfast, one just before, one just after, and two an hour after. I was offered nothing until just after, and the one pill I took was not the cocktail. That would start Wednesday. In the interim, I was to take only a flushing agent that would get all the drugs out of my system quickly, so some of the new wouldn't react with the old.
"Promise you'll let us know if you feel weird," Rain said, watching me with concern. I felt like I was falling off a cliff. She laced her fingers through mine and kissed my hand.
"Don't worry about me," I said with my best smile, which I was determined to use for Scott's sake.
Scott told her to wipe the look of horror off her face and stop scaring me half to death. I hadn't expected her to be so understanding about my feelings toward USIC, but I supposed our game of "Russian roulette," as we decided to call our lives, was the final touch that got her to stop being mad. I smiled at Owen gratefully, but he avoided my gaze with his usual humility.
I turned to Scott. "What qualifies as weird?"
He swallowed a huge gulp of juice and laid his glass down. "Don't expect a cakewalk. Withdrawal symptoms? Let's see. Dizziness, sleeplessness, various forms of digestive-tract upset, headaches, anxiety—"
I wondered if I weren't better off not knowing, and interrupted him with fake cheeriness. "Sounds like everything we've been told to watch out for anyway!" My lips stuck to my gums.
"Dry mouth," Scott added. He didn't miss a trick. I scowled at him while sipping water. "There's only two symptoms that would be alarming, might mean we should slow down the process. One would be double vision, and, drumroll ... hallucinations."
"I thought drugs made you hallucinate, not withdrawal from drugs," Rain said, spinning her glass of orange juice round and round on the table.
After a moment, Scott added, "Learn something new every day," but it seemed mostly to break an awkward silence interrupted only by the sh-sh-sh of Rain's spinning glass on the tablecloth.
She finally said, "I could stand it when Owen and I were fighting. That's normal. But when I start fighting with you, Cora? That's abnormal. And I can't stand it."
"Well, I've just been abnormal since we arrived here." I pooh-poohed her guilt over attacking me last night for distrusting her father. "I'm looking forward to the absence of drugs returning me to ... to my former glory."
That made Owen and Rain smile, though I could have done without the sarcastic blast from behind Scott's smile. I made myself a firm promise that I wouldn't blurt out any more unbecoming remarks, and I bit my lip just in case, despite the absence of Aleese all morning. I was improving already. No imaginings today of Mommie Dearest.
"So you know, my dad is not mad at you. He told me you chose to talk to Hodji Montu instead of him, and he's cool with that. He says Hodji's coming here. He says you can talk to Hodji whenever you want instead of him, and he really doesn't care, so long as you're not..." She let go of my hand and held both of hers out like she had huge imaginary weights in them. "...you're not shouldering burdens too heavy for you. That's his main concern."
I nodded, trying to find words of gratitude, which simply got drowned in feelings of inadequacy. I wondered if I would ever, ever be close to people. I sensed myself coming out of a shell, being more open, more honest. But that was different from feeling a oneness with the human race—something I'd lost when Oma died and Aleese and I had been left alone. I had often blamed it on Aleese when I felt lonely. But the truth is, I hadn't felt lonely as often as most people would have. Maybe she had just ignited some part of me that had always been there—for whatever reason.
"I wish I were just ... a huggy person, who could run out there and just ... hug your father."
I must have looked awful, because in response I got three versions of, "You don't have to do that."
"Just know that he's there for you, too," Rain said.
I was glad when Owen changed the subject—he not being the world's huggiest person either. I supposed he wanted to ease my suffering, though there was no easy subject to jump to.
"Before we get too bummed out, let's talk about Tyler and the Kid. Rain mentioned to her dad that we should go to their funeral. It's going to be on Thursday, according to the latest horrendous TV report. He said no way, no funerals. But I think we should try to get him to change his mind."
We all nodded.
"I th
ink Daddy will change his mind if the New York office tells the media the truth about them," Rain said. "If we're going to the funeral of two guys who tried hard to help save Trinity Falls, that makes a lot of sense. If we're going to the funeral of two high school dropouts who had a suicide pact, the media will wonder why. They just have to release the truth. That newscast Saturday night was horrid."
"I'd almost like to go either way," Owen said. "We can wear bags over our heads. But there's another problem with Thursday."
"Which is?" Rain asked.
He stared at her in amazement. "Dude, for all the times you got pissed at me for forgetting your birthday, now you can't even remember your own?"
"Ohh..." She bumped the back of her head against the chair. "...god. Can I do a funeral on my birthday? How big a person am I becoming?"
Scott's eyes went to me and stayed there. "If we don't get permission, I'm scared Cora will hitchhike. She was e-mailing with them about half an hour before their house blew."
They all watched me, waiting for me to short-circuit and smolder, I supposed. I may have, except, enter Aleese: Don't waste your energy on grief. Save it for—
I got a sense of impending dread, knowing I would have to spend time in the darkroom today, enlarging those prints for Mr. Tiger. And unless there was some way around it, I would be expected to go to the USIC "daily meeting" that Scott was so hyped about. After all, I'd been at the last one by his bedside and I hadn't objected to being included.
"Well, we'll celebrate my birthday on Friday, which is better anyway," Rain said. "I'll start calling people. We'll turn this house into party central. It's almost a must that we have a bash. Our friends are starting to think we're losers. I've had a cracked rib before. Field hockey. It never got me down. Today? We'll go shopping, Cora. We need party attire, and all my jeans are too loose. Marg'll take us."
"You really think?" Owen asked. "I think she wants you to relax for a few days ... to watch for anything else that might be wrong."
Rain refused to let him ruin the mood. "Shopping is as therapeutic as drugs. Come on. Enough with the bummer talk."
"Maybe you shouldn't go to this funeral Thursday if you've got all this going on today and Friday," Scott suggested.
"When you gotta, you gotta," she said, and added defensively, "Some people thrive on activity. You ought to understand that."
"I do," he said. "And you do. They don't."
He gestured at me and Owen. Owen said mildly, "I'll ... go today. So long as we can park close to the door. I'm four-star for once. Maybe I shouldn't waste it."
"Just skip shopping, for Cora's sake," Scott said. "Order your clothes online."
"I hate computers," Rain said. "We'll deal with it! One step at a time. Okay? As you say, 'Keep it simple.'"
"Cora shouldn't have this much activity," Scott insisted, and something about it irritated me, despite him speaking the truth.
Rain rolled her eyes. "So, she can rest up this morning, and we'll go shopping this afternoon."
"Actually, she can't," he said. "I need her this morning. For something."
I almost sighed aloud, thinking of making those prints ... close-ups of potential terrorists.
"You need Cora for something related to this new 'badge' I understand you have?" Rain asked.
"Yes, related," he said.
"That's so 21 Jump Street. Wow."
"Don't start with me, Rain."
"Scott, we were talking Saturday, sitting out by the pond ... and..." She flipped her fingers back and forth from me to her to Owen. "Some people are not cut out to be you. I'd say most people are not. Cora ... is not."
I wished she had let me say it myself. But being honest, I wouldn't have. He nodded hard, staring down into his lap. I sensed he didn't look my way so I wouldn't have to see his disappointment. "I know."
"She did everything in her power when you were out of it yesterday to influence my dad. It worked. Leave it at that," Rain said. "Most people don't want to chase down their mother's murderers. It's a scary and violent world out there. That's why we have police."
"I totally understand. Problem is, she's kind of into it up to her ears right now. Photos to develop for Mike Tiger. Maybe she could just do that much."
His eyes rose to meet mine.
"I can ... do that much," I stumbled. It had come out worse than I wanted it to.
"Pictures of what?" Rain demanded impatiently.
Close-ups of potentially dangerous Richard Awalis. I put my fingers to my forehead, and I think they were shaking.
"Cora, you don't have to," Rain said quickly. "You're seventeen. Who would expect you to get, um, up to your eyebrows in ... all that?"
"Shahzad and Tyler."
We turned to stare at Owen, who was flipping his napkin with his thumbs, staring into the middle of the table. "I can't stop thinking about those two guys."
Always looking to provide comfort, Rain put an arm around him and rested her chin on his shoulder. "As you said, we're not rocket scientists and computer jocks."
"No, we're not," he said. "Who are we?"
"We're ... normal people from Trinity Falls, New Jersey," she answered.
"No. That's who we were."
Scott's eyes wandered to me, then fell into his lap, but I felt the stab of judgment. Little Miss Stuck in Neutral. Who am I? If I had any clue, I probably wouldn't be getting all trembly over developing a few prints. I need to find my father. I need to get over my fear of watching my mother's tapes and simply watch the one Jeremy told me to. Then I'll know.
Rain sighed, leaning away from Owen, saying hesitantly, "I really hope I'm not going to be the bad guy here because I'm excited about a party."
"No ... no," the brothers chimed.
A vibrating sensation jarred me, and I fumbled into my pocket, almost dropping the cell phone before figuring out how to open it. But I could feel myself starting to smile. "Hello?"
A voice outside the intenseness at this table was like a pause in a bombing. It gave some sense of being something instead of nothing.
"Much better," I answered Henry's question. "Thank you."
"I'm finished teaching at noon. I thought perhaps if you weren't up for learning the trails or looking for that darkroom that I could at least bring you some of my homemade raspberry lemonade. It's very healthy. I make it for faculty who failed to get their flu shots. They say it'll kill anthrax."
I giggled. Scott rolled his eyes.
"We could just sit on the porch around one o'clock, and I could show you the rest of the prints from Saturday. If you're up for it, that is."
To sit on the porch with a normal man and listen to the normal birds chirp. I realized I might be defining my own type of heaven. Huge parties left me feeling naked and exposed. I didn't expect Rain to understand this.
"That sounds really wonderful," I stammered, having cleared my throat and put in a couple of "ums." "But—"
"Cora..."
My head snapped to Scott, who was staring up at the ceiling, his fingers laced across his forehead like he was cutting another aftershock. His voice was edgy. "Whatever it is, tell him yes."
"Just a minute..." I covered the phone with my palm, staring at Scott. My brain wouldn't move.
I stammered to him, "Why?"
"Because I said to."
Generous as he was being, he'd just ordered me about. And he was speaking for me again, only this time over another man.
"Because ... you deserve it," he rearranged his words in a milder tone, though his eyes didn't fall from the ceiling.
He was thinking of Tyler and Shahzad. No, maybe I was thinking of Tyler and Shahzad. Maybe Aleese wasn't really saying, "Do it! Do it! Do it!" Maybe it was all me and I really wanted to make a decision for myself.
"I have some photos to develop this morning for a friend, but after that would be fine."
As I hung up, Rain showed her disappointment by pressing her lips into her knuckles with her elbow on the table.
"I'm sorry,"
I said sincerely, looking for forgiveness in her eyes. I found it quickly after highlighting the conversation.
She laughed, however uneasily. "Cora. How many weird things have you heard me say in the past three months? If you want to sit on the porch with an old geezer as opposed to going to the mall..."
It was a merciful, funny moment. The smile only made it halfway across my face. Scott, who had just called all my shots, stood up and walked out of the room without saying anything.
THIRTY-SIX
SCOTT EBERMAN
MONDAY, MAY 6, 2002
9:17 A.M.
BASEMENT
YESTERDAY HAD BEEN TOO TOUGH, and I hadn't been able to add any more thoughts to it—such as Cora's flowers arriving from Mr. Almost-Doctorate. But today I was faced with how I'd feel if some other guy showed up interested in her. I was pretty stunned at the threatened heartburn working its way through me. I guess maybe I'd thought I had all the time in the world. Maybe I'd even been dumb enough to think she'd play the invisible-girl role forever.
Yet I'd seen this happen a dozen times in high school. Girls you'd never notice suddenly graduate and don't only become noticeable—they become some sort of radiant. They come into themselves. Successful older men who weren't in high school couldn't care less if invisible is what they were. It's not what they are.
I didn't do anything wrong. I reminded myself of that quickly to ward off creepy feelings of stupidity. I had never come on to Cora, which would have been ludicrous—confusing for her and downright agonizing for me. I was definitely beyond stealing a kiss and feeling like I'd accomplished something. I sighed, big-time, letting it out in a breeze that sailed over the trees. So ... what? The answer is to let some other guy come over here and flirt with her?
I felt around in my instincts and knew I had done the right thing. It was a good move, the perfect move, something about giving a girl enough rope and she'll be sure to hang herself. If I was appalled by her thinking of some other guy, the last thing I should do was try to stop it. People always want what they're told they shouldn't have.