Page 85 of Life and Death
EVERYONE WATCHED US AS WE WALKED TOGETHER TO OUR LABtable. This time she didn’t angle the chair to sit as far from me as the desk would allow. Instead, she sat right next to me, our arms almost touching. Her hair brushed my skin.
Mrs. Banner backed into the room then, pulling an outdated TV and VCR on a wheeled frame. It seemed like everyone in the room relaxed at the same time. I was relieved, too. I knew I wouldn’t have been able to pay attention to a lecture today. I had too much to sort through inside my head already.
Mrs. Banner shoved the old tape into the VCR, then walked across the room to turn off the lights. And then suddenly, as the room went black, things got weird.
It wasn’t like I wasn’t already hyperaware that Edythe was right there, just an inch away from me. I wouldn’t have imagined that I could bemoreaware of her. But in the dark, somehow . . . It was like an electrical current was flowing through her body into mine, like those miniature lightning bolts that jump between live circuits were dancing up and down the small gap between our bodies. Where her hair touched my arm, it was almost painful.
A crazy strong impulse to reach over and touch her—to stroke her perfect face just once in the darkness—almost overwhelmed me. What was wrong with me? You couldn’t just go around touching people because the lights were off. I crossed my arms tightly over my ribs and balled my hands into fists.
The opening credits started, and the room got a fraction brighter. I couldn’t stop myself from peeking over at her.
She was sitting exactly like I was—arms crossed, hands clenched, just glancing over to me. When she saw me looking, too, she smiled, almost like she was embarrassed. Even in the dark, her eyes still burned. I had to look away before I did something stupid—something that would definitely not conform to her idea ofcareful.
It was a very long hour. I couldn’t concentrate on the movie. I didn’t have any idea what it was about. I tried to act normal, to make my muscles relax, but the electrical current never let up. Now and then, I let myself take a quick glance in her direction, but she never seemed to relax, either. The feeling that I justhadto touch her face also refused to go away. I kept my fists crushed safely against my ribs until my fingers were aching with the effort.
I sighed with relief when Mrs. Banner flicked the lights back on at the end of class, and stretched my arms down at my sides, flexing my stiff fingers. Edythe laughed once.
“Well, that was . . . interesting,” she murmured. Her voice was low and her eyes were cautious.
“Umm,” was all I was able to respond.
“Shall we?” she asked, on her feet in one liquid movement. She scooped her bag up with one finger.
I stood carefully, worried I wouldn’t be able to walk straight after all that.
She walked with me to Gym in silence, and then paused at the door. I looked down to say goodbye but choked on the word. Her face—it was torn, almost pained, and so unbearably beautiful that the ache to touch her hit me even more intensely than it had before. It was all I could do to just stare.
She raised one hand, hesitant, conflict clear in her eyes, and then quickly brushed her fingertips across the line of my jaw. Her fingers were icy like always, but the trail they left on my skin was almost like a burn that hadn’t turned painful yet.
She spun without a word and walked swiftly away from me.
I stumbled into the gym, lightheaded and unstable, and dressed down in a trance, barely aware of the other people around me. Reality didn’t fully set in until I was handed a racket.
It wasn’t very heavy, but I knew that didn’t matter. In my hands, it was dangerous. I could see a few of the other kids eyeing me and the racket. Then Coach Clapp ordered us to choose our own partners, and I figured I was about to be the last guy up against the wall.
But I’d underestimated McKayla’s loyalty. She came to stand next to me right away.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” I told her.
She grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep out of your way.”
Sometimes it was really easy to like McKayla.
It didn’t go smoothly. I’m not sure how I did it, but I managed to hit myself in the head with my racket and clip McKayla’s shoulder on the same swing. I spent the rest of the hour in the back corner of the court, the racket held behind my back. Despite being handicapped by me, McKayla was pretty good; she won three games out of four single-handedly, then gave me an unearned high five when the coach finally blew the whistle ending class.
“So,” she started as we walked off the court.
“So?”
“You and Edythe Cullen, huh?” Her tone was just slightly hostile.
“Yeah, me and Edythe Cullen,” I replied. I’m sure she could hear the sound of wonder in my voice.
“I don’t like it,” she muttered.
“Well, you don’t actually have to.”
“So she just snaps her fingers and you heel?”
