Page 43 of Ringer
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Gemma said. Lyra and Caelum exchanged a look. She thought she saw a smile pass between them.
Kristina bent down to kiss Gemma’s forehead. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and Gemma nodded to show it was okay for her to go.
“How are you?” Gemma asked, as soon as everyone else had left. She was worried about how pale Lyra looked. “How are you feeling?”
But Lyra answered immediately.
“We’re fine,” she said. Caelum took Lyra’s hand, and Gemma felt a surge of love for them both. She struggled to find the words to express how she felt—how grateful she was.
“April was right,” she said at last. “You’re both heroes. I can’t believe you found me.”
Slowly, Lyra smiled. It was the funniest thing. Her smile was like something that snuck up on her, like the kind of sun that begins by planting an elbow through the clouds and then begins to push, and push, until the whole sky is exposed.
“That’s what friends do,” Lyra said. “They find each other.”
Gemma knew, then, that Lyra understood. That the terrible things that had happened to her hadn’t, after all, been more important than the love she had found.
“Exactly,” she said.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, Lyra came forward and put her arms around Gemma’s shoulders, and squeezed. They had never hugged before. Gemma blinked away tears. She could feel Lyra’s ribs through her back. She thought of a bird; she thought of the dream of beingcarried to safety on a pair of wings.
“Thank you,” Lyra said, twice. Then she pulled away, almost as if she was embarrassed. Without another word, she turned for the door.
Caelum lifted a hand, and quirked his mouth into a smile, and waved. Then they were gone.
Not a minute after they left, Kristina was back and fussing over Gemma. “She’s going to be okay, isn’t she?” Gemma asked, after Lyra had slipped out, promising to lie down. She was consumed by a strange anxiety, a premonition that she wouldn’t see Lyra again—or that she wouldn’t see her for a long time.
Kristina sighed. She looked down at her hands. “Lyra’s very sick, Gemma.”
“I know that,” Gemma said. “That isn’t what I meant.” But she wasn’t sure what shedidmean. She was scared all over again, scared and full of love: she knew she couldn’t save Lyra, and that was the scariest thing of all.
“I wish I had the answers,” Kristina said. That was one of the things Gemma loved about her mom: she wasn’t a liar.
Kristina moved to the window and drew the curtains to let in the sun. Gemma blinked. Outside her window, a spider was weaving in one corner, putting the finishing touches on a web that looked like a blown-up snowflake.
“Your father called,” she said at last, almost casually.“He wants to talk to you.”
“I don’t want to see him,” Gemma said. “I don’t want to see him ever again.”
“Well.” Kristina turned away from the window again. She had no makeup on. Gemma couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her mom with no makeup. She looked gorgeous, Gemma thought. “You can’t avoid him forever.”
“Why not?” Gemma asked.
Kristina bit her lip. For a second, Gemma was sure—sure—she had been about to smile. But she sighed instead, and came toward the bed.
“Listen, Gem.” This time, when she brushed the hair out of Gemma’s eyes, Gemma nearly cried. She’d missed her mom so badly. She’d been so afraid they’d never see each other again. “I think... I want you to know—and I know this will be hard for you—that I don’t think I’m going to go home. To your father, I mean. I think I’d like to get my own place. A place for just you and me.” Her throat was moving up and down, up and down, as if it was doing double duty just to get the words out. “What do you say? I know things will be different....”
But she didn’t finish. Because Gemma started to laugh, and cry, both, imagining a little house where she and her mother would live together, she and her mother and their animals, all covered in pet hair, and nothing white at all.
Turn the page to continue reading Gemma’s story. Click here to read Chapter 28 of Lyra’s story.
TWENTY-NINE
DEEP DOWN, GEMMA HAD KNOWN that when Lyra hugged her—their first hug ever—she had meant it as a good-bye. She was right. By the next morning, Lyra and Caelum had vanished.
According to the nursing staff, they must have slipped out around dawn, unseen even by the stubbornest bloggers and tragedy tourists, through a little-used stairwell right by the ladies’ room that led down into the parking lot.
They had practice, Gemma knew, in turning invisible.
