“You had me going for a minute there.” I leaned against a storefront, giggling. The mysterious black-cloaked building didn’t seem so menacing now that I knew it was a toy factory. “Demonic bobbleheads. Very funny.”
“I wasn’t kidding.” Michael scowled. “And it isn’t funny.”
“Aw, come on. There’s nothing threatening about an oversized noggin that goes like this all the time.” I wobbled my head around, grinning crazily and waving my arms. “I’m eeeeevil!”
“You think this is all a big joke, huh?”
“Well, yeah.” I gestured toward the factory. “I mean, you tell me it’s a demon factory, so I expect it to make something dangerous. Guns, maybe. Or drugs or hazardous chemicals that turn entire ecosystems into toxic sludge. Not bobbleheads. I mean, how wimpy are these demons? They’re going to trinket all the humans into damnation?”
“Have you ever heard of soul jars?”
“No,” I said, still smirking. “Obviously not. Are you really trying to tell me this is serious?”
“Yes!” He threw up his hands. “People make deals with demons. The souls that don’t get consumed immediately are sent here, and they get imprisoned in soul jars shaped like bobbleheads, where they’re held until a demon gets hungry, and in the meantime, the imprisoned souls leak a nice spiritual taint into the area to make more people susceptible to making a deal. And then they’ll all get eaten! Isn’t that funny? Ha ha ha.” He barked fake laughter.
“Well, this is all pretty tough to swallow. Give me a break!”
“Sorry,” he muttered, but he didn’t sound it. “I’ll slow down a little.”
“Oh, so now you’re going to treat me like I’m stupid?” I knew I was being a little oversensitive, but I felt so overwhelmed, and he expected me to just nod and smile no matter how preposterous the whole thing got? I couldn’t do that. “If you’re going to talk down to me, I’m out of here.”
“Fine,” he snapped. “Do you need me to take you home?” It probably would have been nice, but I was too proud to admit it. “I don’t need anything from you.”
“Fine,” he repeated.
Michael stomped off, leaving me alone in the middle of Washington Street. I didn’t even watch him go; I whirled around and stalked in the other direction. Flaming wings or not, the guy pissed me off. Did he expect me to fall down at his feet and take every word as gospel after he lit my wall on fire and popped me out of my body? At this point, I had every right to be rolling around on the floor and clutching my head. I’d listened much longer than the average person would have. Maybe because I was so desperate to find some identity for myself other than Girl in Remission.
The more I thought about it, the more aggravated I got. I deserved to approach things with a little healthy skepticism. Especially since it didn’t seem too far-fetched to think that maybe the mugger in the white suit and Michael were somehow related. One cried fire; the other sprouted it from his torso. Just one more reason why taking a step back was a good idea.
I made it about a half mile before a lanky guy in a do-rag and a huge pair of sagging pants stepped out in front of me. He held his arms out, blocking the sidewalk.
“Hey, baby,” he said, grinning. “Where you goin’?”
Then he reached out to grab me. I didn’t want to be grabbed.
I couldn’t help it. All the frustration I’d been carrying around leapt to my throat. I snatched his hand, locked the wrist, pushed, and turned. His own momentum carried him face-first into the ground with a grunt of pain.
“Leave me alone!” I shouted, releasing his hand and stepping over him.
“You stupid bitch,” he snarled. “You need to learn some manners.”
He swiped at my ankle, but I stomped down hard on his fingers and ran. I could hear him shouting, and other voices answering, and they shouted out the horrible things they wanted to do to me. I had no idea where I was, and I must have pulled a muscle because my side felt like someone had jammed a hot butter knife between my ribs, but I kept going as fast as I could.
Kyle started singing from inside the pocket of my jeans.
“Ra ah ah-ah-aah! Ra ma ra-ma-ma! Gaga! Oooh la la!”
It wasn’t really him, of course, just my cell. He’d made the mistake of serenading me with Lady Gaga one day while I was in the hospital, and I’d ended up setting it as my ringtone. I slowed in front of a McDonald’s and went inside.
“Hey,” I said, panting into the phone.
“Did I disturb something exciting?” Kyle yelled. “It sounds like you’re busy.”
“Just getting chased by random crackheads.” I tried to sound casual, but my casual setting must have been broken. It sounded like I was ready to cry instead. “What’s up?”
“Did someone hurt you?”
“Why? Are you going to have someone hold them down while you beat them up?”
“It’s not my first choice, but yeah. If I have to.”
It was ridiculous, really, because Kyle had gotten into only two fights in his life, and he’d won the second one only because I’d showed up and bailed him out. Don’t even get me started on the first one. But still, when he said he’d stand up for me, I felt better.
“Thanks,” I said. “But it’s not necessary. What I need is a ride. Are you free?”
“Yeah, sure. I was just on my way to the park, but maybe you need to go home instead?”
I considered. What I really needed was some time away from Michael, so I could process everything that had just happened. Figure out what I thought about it.
“No,” I said, “the park sounds like a plan. Come get me.”
It only took him fifteen minutes to arrive at McDonald’s, and once I convinced him I was okay, he bought me a shake. I think he could tell I wasn’t quite ready to talk about it all yet. Frankly, I wasn’t sure I could without him trying to have me committed.
“Thanks, Ky.” I drained the last of the chocolate-flavored awesome as we pulled into a parking spot at the skate park. “You are the best guy in the universe.”
“I’ve got skills, baby.”
“Dude, I love you,” I said as we got out of the car. “Someone should clone you. The world needs more people who aren’t douche bags.”
“I’m all for this plan. I vote that the clone does my American history paper, because it’s due tomorrow, and I haven’t started yet.”
I sighed. “That sucks. You pulling an all-nighter?”
“Probably.”
We started down the path, looking for a free spot to practice in. The half-pipe overflowed with junior-high kids on BMX bikes, so that was out. I saw the rest of our crew jumping one of the mini ramps with their boards; Willow went up, grabbed some air, and made a silly face before she landed.
My feet slowed despite myself. “Hey,” I said, “did you know everyone else was going to be here?”
“They usually are,” he replied. It came out sounding a little defensive. “Why?”
As usual, Kyle’s shouting attracted attention. Lupo elbowed Willow, who canted a hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun as she looked our way. Talking to them seemed inevitable, so I pasted a smile on my face, even though I really wanted to have Kyle to myself. But instead of skating up to meet us, they turned their backs, grabbing their boards and rolling farther down the path like we might have something catching and they didn’t want to get too close.
I should have felt relieved, but it hurt. “What was that all about?”
He shrugged, dropping his board and rolling a little way down the path. “If we can find a free spot, I can show you the half cab impossible. You still haven’t seen it.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
He stopped but didn’t turn around. “All right. How about I answer your question and you tell me what happened to you this afternoon?”
It wasn’t something I looked forward to, but I knew I was going to have to tell him sooner or later. “Deal.”
“Okay.” He paused, rolling the board back and forth, testing the wheels. They looked new, the bright plastic smooth and unpitted. “They’re pissed, Casey. And I can kind of understand how they feel.”
“Pissed about what?”
“We understood when you were too sick to hang with us, but now you’re not. And we only saw you that one time before you dumped us for the derby thing. You don’t even text anymore, and you don’t pick up when I call you. It’s like you’ve written us off completely.”
“I thought you didn’t want me freerunning or boarding. The second I get near anything remotely dangerous, you get tense. So I started doing derby, which you don’t like either.” I threw up my hands. “I can’t win no matter what I do.”
“So I’m smothering you to death.” He sighed. “Heaven forbid I actually care. Or have an opinion.”
“Have all the opinions you want, but quit shoving them into my face.”
“You know,” he said in a sharp tone I wasn’t used to hearing from him, “eventually, you’re going to realize that the problem isn’t me or Rachel or anything else. The problem is you. You’re the one who can’t get past your diagnosis. You’re the one on this big quest to prove yourself. You’re the one picking fights with anyone who will fight back, because it’s the only way you can distract yourself from the fact that you’re scared out of your mind. So maybe instead of blaming all your problems on everybody else, you could start realizing what you have. Like, for example, a friend who drops everything to come get you when you’re in trouble, only you can’t even be bothered to thank him.”
The longer he yelled, the smaller I felt. “Thank you,” I whispered.
He couldn’t hear me over his own voice. “I’m going to work on the half cab impossible now, which you were supposed to see about a week ago, only you forgot that too. You can stay or leave. I don’t care.”
Then he stomped off. And boy did I feel like an ass as I watched him go. The word “sorry” didn’t even begin to cover it. Because as much as I wanted to jump down his throat and defend myself, I knew he was right.
The benches overlooking the ramps were covered in graffiti, old bubble gum, and other unidentifiable gross things I didn’t want on my shorts. So I sat on the edge of the ramp, my feet dangling off the side, while Kyle finished warming up. For someone so tall and gangly, he was a really graceful boarder. It was like everything jelled for him once he was on wheels. He was a good freerunner, but those skills were nothing compared to his boarding.
Kyle needed to cool off, and I needed time to think about what a mess I’d made of things and how on earth I was ever going to make it right. Because at this point, there wasn’t anyone in my life who I hadn’t neglected or pissed off or both. I’d dumped all my friends and shoved my family away. And now that I stopped to think about it, I couldn’t believe how I’d bitten Michael’s head off. Maybe he was nuts and maybe not, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d trusted me, and I’d leapt down his throat. I had some serious work to do if I was going to fix it all. And I could start by watching Kyle skate like I’d promised to.
He paused at the edge of the ramp, his eyes flicking in my direction. Neither of us spoke, but he knew I was watching. My mind threatened to wander—there was so much I needed to think about—but I forced myself to focus as he took off from the top of the ramp, building up speed in ever-widening loops. Then he launched himself into the air, spun, and flipped the board over his foot like it was a freaking baton and he was a sequin-covered chick in a parade. For a heart-stopping second, I thought he was going to fall, but the board continued to spin, and he landed on it smoothly and rolled down the ramp with an expression of triumph.
“Wooo!” I launched to my feet, holding my arms up over my head. “That was awesome! Do it again!”
His face split into a reluctant grin, transforming him back into the friend I’d lost. “You sure?” he asked. “Don’t you need to skate?”
“This is more important,” I said emphatically. “I’ll skate later.”
“Cool.” It didn’t feel like everything was over, but maybe we were on the right track. At least he could look at me again. Then he added tentatively, “You know, if you wanted, I might be able to watch you skate in a while. Give you some pointers.”
We stayed there most of the afternoon. Every time his feet left the board, my heart stopped, and I waited for him to splatter on the pavement. And every time, he landed without a hitch. The irony of our switched positions didn’t escape me. It was my turn to feel overprotective, not to mention sheepish because I’d always gotten so upset when he did the same thing to me.
We didn’t talk much on the ride home; in this case I think our actions spoke more than words ever could have. Besides, I was preoccupied with the whole existence of demons and soul jars shaped like bobbleheads, and he was blasting music so loud that we couldn’t have carried on a conversation anyway. But I made sure to give him a hug before he left. Neither of us could stay mad at the other for very long. And trust me, we’d both tried at one time or another.
The house was empty. Mom was catching up on things at the office, and Dad was directing a production of Romeo and Juliet, only all the actors were dressed like people from the Civil War, and Juliet’s family had slaves and Romeo’s didn’t. I’d seen a couple of the rehearsals, and I had to admit that it actually worked.
Enough was enough. I was done hiding. And I was determined to prove it, to myself just as much as everybody else. So I went back to the one place I’d sworn I’d never go again.