chapter 14
I ’m still lying on the cot in the nurse’s office when I hear the sound of a shoe tapping impatiently on the linoleum. I start to smile before I even open my eyes.
“Come to check on me?” I say and manage to sit up. Sarah is there, a Diet Coke in one hand and a bored expression on her face.
“Seriously?” she asks. “You let Brandon One-Brain-Cell Whaler freak you out? I’m pretty sure I kneed him in the balls last year and you gave me a behind-the-back high-five. What happened?”
“It wasn’t him,” I say. “I mean, yeah, he’s a tool, but I don’t know. I—” And I stop because I realize that I can’t really explain. Visions of ghosts and falling off bridges aren’t exactly normal topics of conversation. Even if that’s now my life. “Never mind,” I say. “I think I have a concussion.”
“Probably. You look pale. Hey, you’re still going to go the charity event with me, right?”
I groan.
“Pretty please? It’ll be so boring without you there. I’ll be your best friend.”
I smile at her. “You’re lucky I already know you’re my best friend or my answer would have been a hell no.”
The nurse clears her throat from her desk. “If you’re well enough to make plans for tonight, Ms. Cassidy, I think you’re okay to go back to class.”
I’m a little embarrassed and nod, hopping down from the uncomfortable cot. She hands me a hall pass and I wonder if she thinks I did it all to get out of class. But I don’t say anything and instead follow behind Sarah into the crowded hallway.
As I fall in step next to her, I look sideways, anxiety creeping over me. “Sarah, remember that time last summer when we drove out to the coast to see the beached whale?”
She turns, a blank expression on her face. Please, no.
“Charlotte?” she asks slowly. “Why the hell would you bring that up? You know I puked for like two hours after I smelled that thing.”
I close my eyes, taking in a huge gasp of air. She remembers it.
“Getting hit by cars and screaming in class? I swear, you’re getting weirder by the hour.” She starts walking like she’s in a hurry.
“Where are you going?” I ask as we pass the cafeteria. I’m not a fan of fish sandwiches, but right now, I’m starving. Sarah stops fast and I nearly collide into the back of her.
“I have to meet Seth, and you’re coming with me.”
“Ew, no way. I don’t want to hear the details of your hookup.”
“He won’t, not with you there. But if he’s willing to ask me out with you standing there, looking all judgmental, then I know he likes me.”
I step back from her. “Ask you out? Sarah, he bad-mouthed you to the entire school.”
“I remember,” she says. “But what if—”
“No,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “You can’t go talk to him.”
“Why? Did you foresee something?” She looks hopeful.
“No. But I know he’s a jerk.”
She looks disappointed, but then shrugs. “You’re right. He is. But I still think he likes me, and now that I’ve put him in his place, he’s ready to apologize and we can move on.”
“He’s an a*shole.”
Her face begins to darken and for a second I think she might cry. But instead, she just twitches her mouth. “You may be right,” she says. “But it’s all I’ve got.” And then she walks away, leaving me alone in the middle of the hallway.
I’m just about to go double up on tater tots when a burning sensation prickles my skin. I blink slowly, the world around me fraying at the edges. Not now.
I try to turn to the cafeteria, but pain spikes through my joints. Eventually I give in and start walking toward the back of the building.
I stare at the doors where light filters in, thinking I’m leaving the school, but at the last second a rough wind blows through me, stopping me at a wooden doorway a few feet away.
Looking it over, I see everything but the handle lose its focus. I think . . . I’m at the teachers’ lounge. My skin tingles and my body is pushing me, but I don’t want to open the door. I don’t want to give in to the Need anymore.
But after an intense burning in my back, I reach out my hand and turn the knob. When the door opens, my sight fades. There is a glowing figure in the room, sitting at a circular table. Sister Dorothy.
If I wasn’t in so much pain, I might laugh. The Need has to help a nun? It seems ironic. But I don’t have time to think about it because I’m entering the room, the door closing behind me.
She looks over her shoulder at me, her features barely recognizable underneath the light. “Miss Cassidy? What are you doing in here?”
Her voice is high-pitched and alarmed, like I’ve broken one of the commandments of St. Vincent’s: Thou shalt not enter the teachers’ lounge. But then her life flashes before my eyes.
Suddenly, I am Dorothy Beaker. I’m in Italy backpacking with my best friend, Marjorie. We are twenty and we came to see the Vatican. Hoping to catch a glimpse of the Pope. We’re waiting in the courtyard and I’m so excited. I feel like God is smiling on me.
The scene changes and Marjorie is crying as we sit in the small room at the hostel. She’s pregnant. She never told me that she was having sex, and I’m offended. I’m offended that she would disgrace her religion. I tell her so. I’m breaking her heart because I am her only friend and I’m ashamed of her.
It’s a year later. I’m back in Washington, living at my parents’ house as I prepare for the order and there’s a knock at my door. I’m annoyed. I want to keep reading but I go anyway. No one else is home.
When I open it, Marjorie is there. Her face is puffy from crying and her body looks softer, curvier after her pregnancy. She asks for my forgiveness. I tell her I’m not the one to forgive her.
I listen impatiently as she tells me how she gave her baby to the church, that she wanted to keep it but her parents wouldn’t let her. She had no one. She didn’t even have me.
Now she’s desperate to find the baby. She asks for my help. She gets on her knees and begs for it.
In the teachers’ lounge, I flick my eyes to Sister Dorothy. She’s fifty-eight and small, a shadow of the woman she used to be. She stares at me, asking me questions and looking like she’s going to go for the phone. But I can’t hear her. I just hear Marjorie’s sobs.
“Help me find her!” she cries.
But I am Dorothy and I tell her no. That she wasn’t meant to have that baby. That the baby is better off with someone else. I am cruel.
As Dorothy, I resent Marjorie. She gave up both her religion and me when she sinned. So why now should I help her? She was supposed to be going into the convent with me. But now she can’t.
Which is why as she cries, I shut the door and leave her.
“Sister Dorothy,” I say finally, startling her. “I know what happened to Marjorie’s baby.”
The light around her blazes, like an overwhelming emotion just struck her. Her gray eyes turn glassy as she stares at me.
“You know Marjorie?” she murmurs, not disbelieving.
“It was a girl. Her name is Catherine.” I smile a little, seeing images of the child growing up, quick snapshots of her life. She was happy.
“Heaven above,” Sister Dorothy whimpers and makes the sign of the cross. She starts to pray quietly, her hands clasped in front of her.
“She has a husband and two little boys. Marjorie’s grandchildren. She’s always wanted to know her mother. But Marjorie passed away a few years ago. They never found each other.”
“What have I done?” Sister Dorothy whispers, her eyes squeezed shut. I step forward and put my hands over her folded ones. When she looks up her eyes gaze past me, like she’s not seeing me. Like she’s seeing something else. Something beautiful.
“Find Catherine,” I tell her. “There’s an old farmhouse just outside of Vancouver. The last name is Paltz. Tell her about her mother. Tell her about Marjorie.”
Sister Dorothy falls to her knees, sobbing, just as the light goes out around her and my sight returns. For the past thirty-six years Sister Dorothy has been repenting. Now she’ll make it right.
I swoon and nearly fall on top of her, but I catch my footing just in time. Euphoria stretches over me and I laugh out loud, feeling so damn good.
“Can I help you?” Sister Dorothy asks sharply. She’s oblivious to the tears on her cheeks as she scrambles to her feet. “You have no business being in here,” she says. “New students should report to the front office. Not the teachers’ lounge.”
I’m stunned. She’s forgotten me so quickly.
Maybe it’s okay that she can’t remember me, I think as I try to calm myself. It’s not like Mercy or Sarah or Harlin. It’s not the same. I should focus my energy on keeping them from forgetting.
Once I’m in the hall and the door behind me closes loudly, I try to take a deep breath. But when I reach up to scratch my nose, I see something that changes everything. There’s a big patch of skin missing from my hand.
I sit alone at a table, the sleeve of my sweater pulled down to hide my right hand. With the left I’m picking through my tater tots, filling an insatiable hunger. Our usual lunch crowd is buzzing with whispers that I know are about us—Sarah’s latest poor judgment and my in-class freak-out. But I don’t have time for petty drama today. I need to keep building memories with the people I care about, people who love me. It’s the only thing that’ll keep me real.
Sarah flops down across from me, her eyes bloodshot and the tip of her nose a little red. Her freckles dot her face now that her makeup has rubbed off. She won’t meet my eyes, and my heart sinks.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” She opens up her backpack to take out a Ziploc baggie full of celery. After a minute of silence, she starts talking in a low voice. “We’re going to have fun tonight. Just us.”
“Hell yes.” I don’t feel all that energetic, but I can see Sarah’s sadness and I’m here for her. Just like I was when her grandmother passed away last year, or when her father puts her down and makes her hate herself. I want to always be here.
I try to think of something inspiring to say. “Hey, remember that time when Rod Crowell called me fat in eighth grade?”
Sarah slowly raises her eyes, meeting mine. “You were never fat.”
“I know, but he was mad that I beat him in the gym relay. Do you remember what you said to him?”
Sarah pulls her brows together, thinking hard. “No idea what you’re talking about, Charlotte.”
An empty feeling rolls over me. Normally, Sarah would remember that she kicked him in the leg so hard that his parents threatened to sue her father.
She’d remember telling me that no matter what anyone says to me, my opinion of myself is the only one that matters. She’s brilliant sometimes. She’d remember that.
“You really are my best friend,” I say quietly, reaching out to cover her hand with mine.
She laughs and pulls back. “You’re so patronizing. Of course I’m your best friend. And by the end of the day everyone’s probably going to be calling you my girlfriend.”
I try to smile. So what if she forgets little details of our relationship? She knows me and that’s what matters. We’ll just build new details. At least I’m still here with her.
I pick up a tater tot and throw it at her. “Who cares?” I say. “It’s not like we have some stellar reputations to lose. The rich BJ queen and the fashion-challenged scholarship kid? We sound like a great couple.”
“Imagine when the nuns call Daddy about that one.”
I grin. “Oh, he’ll flip. You’re supposed to marry a prince or something, right?”
She sighs. “I’d almost make out with you just to spite my father.”
“No thanks.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Charlotte.” She picks the tater out of her lap. “If you were my girlfriend, you’d have much bigger boobs.”
“Hey!”
“No worries.” She waves her hand. “I’m pretty sure I can’t compete with Harlin.”
“No,” I say. “You definitely can’t.”
“He’s good. I just know it.”
“Shut up!”
“We’re going to have fun tonight,” she says, mostly to herself. Then she goes back to crunching her celery. But I can still see that whatever went down with Seth is bothering her. She’s sad. And so am I.