what if they’re right, and things come back on their own?” I thought of how I felt the needle the last time Norris drew my blood, felt the cold sting of the alcohol wipe. It was coming back, but how much would return, and how quickly? And what if it didn’t?
She leaned in and pushed my hair back from my forehead, like Mom always did. For a second it seemed like she was going to kiss me, and the dream about her in bed with me flashed through my mind. Why was Olivia suddenly being so sweet to me? What had she seen in the file that made her feel so damn sorry for me? It was weird for her to come and see me at night, to sit on my bed instead of in a chair. Maybe the odds were worse than Mom told me; maybe there was a chance I would have the surgery and still be like this, stuck like this forever. No one had talked about that.
My paranoia began to set in, and it was as if she could feel me growing cold to her. “You know, I almost didn’t tell you this, but … if the tables were turned, if you knew something like this about me, I would want to know.” She paused to meet my eyes. “So I decided to tell you. You’re the only person who really gets it in here, so we’ve got to look out for each other.” Her words echoed in my head. Hadn’t I just been thinking the same thing a few hours ago, that Olivia was the one person who got it? It was a glimmer of hope that she felt the same way about me.
Olivia leaned in to me, laying her head on my chest. “I can hear your heart beating,” she whispered, putting her arms around me. She snuggled in and let out a sigh, curling her body next to mine.
Allie always smelled a little like strawberries, likeoutdoors. She told me it was just her shampoo, but she smelled like summer to me. Olivia was different. She wasn’t like a high-school girl. The way she moved her body close to mine made me feel I was grown up. She smelled like perfume, like a woman would wear, something musky and rich. I heard her breathing grow more quiet and regular and realized that she had fallen asleep, holding me, her long hair falling softly over my chest and onto the white sheets.
Chapter 14
There’s blood on my hands. It’s up to my wrists, splattered on my arms. I look all over my legs, my stomach, my shirt, my pants. Where’s the cut? I can’t find it. It’s so much blood. I open my palms and see that the blood has dried into the creases, the lines of my fingers; in places it’s turning dark brown. But I’m not bleeding. I have no pain. It’s not my blood. I hear sirens in the distance and know I have to run. They can’t catch me. Running feels so good. I’m so powerful, there’s no way that they can catch me. I’m too smart for them. I’m moving like I have superpowers, off the sidewalk now and through a yard, over a stone wall in one leap, through the back of a parking lot. I’m down behind a car, breathing hard when I see myself, a reflection in the car’s windows. Something isn’t right, my hair is black.I move to the side mirror on the car. It’s dark out, but the security light from the parking lot is bright enough to see my face in the mirror. It isn’t my face, it’s his face. I’m him. I’m him.
I was finally wide awake. After so many hazy days, so many drugs and half-awake moments, I was completely awake, aware. I could feel the roughness of the sheets under my skin, hear and sense everything, the sound of the machines next to me. How could I ever sleep with that sound going on? My mind was racing, realizing that I hadn’t seen my face since the accident that put me here. I was still me, wasn’t I? Who was I? I was West. West Spencer. Junior at Marshall High School. I have blond hair, green eyes. Hazel eyes according to my girlfriend. My ex-girlfriend. That was all real.
But what if it wasn’t real.
Did I have black hair and brown eyes—was I covered in someone else’s blood? Had I done something terrible that no one could tell me about, that I couldn’t
She leaned in and pushed my hair back from my forehead, like Mom always did. For a second it seemed like she was going to kiss me, and the dream about her in bed with me flashed through my mind. Why was Olivia suddenly being so sweet to me? What had she seen in the file that made her feel so damn sorry for me? It was weird for her to come and see me at night, to sit on my bed instead of in a chair. Maybe the odds were worse than Mom told me; maybe there was a chance I would have the surgery and still be like this, stuck like this forever. No one had talked about that.
My paranoia began to set in, and it was as if she could feel me growing cold to her. “You know, I almost didn’t tell you this, but … if the tables were turned, if you knew something like this about me, I would want to know.” She paused to meet my eyes. “So I decided to tell you. You’re the only person who really gets it in here, so we’ve got to look out for each other.” Her words echoed in my head. Hadn’t I just been thinking the same thing a few hours ago, that Olivia was the one person who got it? It was a glimmer of hope that she felt the same way about me.
Olivia leaned in to me, laying her head on my chest. “I can hear your heart beating,” she whispered, putting her arms around me. She snuggled in and let out a sigh, curling her body next to mine.
Allie always smelled a little like strawberries, likeoutdoors. She told me it was just her shampoo, but she smelled like summer to me. Olivia was different. She wasn’t like a high-school girl. The way she moved her body close to mine made me feel I was grown up. She smelled like perfume, like a woman would wear, something musky and rich. I heard her breathing grow more quiet and regular and realized that she had fallen asleep, holding me, her long hair falling softly over my chest and onto the white sheets.
Chapter 14
There’s blood on my hands. It’s up to my wrists, splattered on my arms. I look all over my legs, my stomach, my shirt, my pants. Where’s the cut? I can’t find it. It’s so much blood. I open my palms and see that the blood has dried into the creases, the lines of my fingers; in places it’s turning dark brown. But I’m not bleeding. I have no pain. It’s not my blood. I hear sirens in the distance and know I have to run. They can’t catch me. Running feels so good. I’m so powerful, there’s no way that they can catch me. I’m too smart for them. I’m moving like I have superpowers, off the sidewalk now and through a yard, over a stone wall in one leap, through the back of a parking lot. I’m down behind a car, breathing hard when I see myself, a reflection in the car’s windows. Something isn’t right, my hair is black.I move to the side mirror on the car. It’s dark out, but the security light from the parking lot is bright enough to see my face in the mirror. It isn’t my face, it’s his face. I’m him. I’m him.
I was finally wide awake. After so many hazy days, so many drugs and half-awake moments, I was completely awake, aware. I could feel the roughness of the sheets under my skin, hear and sense everything, the sound of the machines next to me. How could I ever sleep with that sound going on? My mind was racing, realizing that I hadn’t seen my face since the accident that put me here. I was still me, wasn’t I? Who was I? I was West. West Spencer. Junior at Marshall High School. I have blond hair, green eyes. Hazel eyes according to my girlfriend. My ex-girlfriend. That was all real.
But what if it wasn’t real.
Did I have black hair and brown eyes—was I covered in someone else’s blood? Had I done something terrible that no one could tell me about, that I couldn’t
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