Flicker (23 page)

I touch the side of his face and marvel at
how real he is. The other boys I've dated were nice to me and all,
but they always seemed… detached. Maybe it was my fault. Robbie
said I wouldn't let him get close to me, so maybe they were just
protecting themselves. But Cam… he already knows everything there
is to know about me.

More than anyone ever has.

He rolls so we’re lying on our sides and
strokes my temple. "What are you thinking?"

My fingers brush his chest. Suddenly I'm
nervous to look at him, but I force myself to meet his eyes. His
warm, dark eyes that make me want to completely lose control in the
middle of the playground. "I was just thinking how nice it is that
you already know me. That we know each other." His fingers trail
over my neck to my shoulder and down my arm. "We don't have to go
through all that bullshit of getting to know each other."

"What if there are things I still want to
know about you?"

I slide my hand down his side until I find
the edge of his shirt. My fingers slip inside, my cold skin making
him gasp. "Sorry." I move my hand further up his shirt, relishing
in the smoothness of his back, running the tips of my fingers over
the bumps of his spine. "So what else do you want to know about
me?"

His lips part and his head dips closer to
mine. "I don't remember." He moves on top of me, erasing anything
else I was going to say.

Chapter 32

As much as I want to stay here forever, I do
eventually need to face my parents. My body tenses just thinking
about it.

Cameron notices my shift in mood. "Do you
need to go?"

"Yeah." I trace his cheekbone with my
fingertip, savoring in his closeness. "I don't know if I can wait
five days to see you."

"How do you know it'll be five days?"

"At the very least I'll be grounded through
the weekend, and since I won't be at school until Monday…" I tick
off my fingers. "Five days."

"That sucks."

"And showing up hours after dinner is not
going to make things any easier."

He sighs. "Well let's go."

We disentangle ourselves and I nod at the
slide. "After you."

He scootches to the edge of the platform and
in an instant disappears from sight. "All clear."

I stick my feet over the edge and my stomach
leaps to my throat. Two seconds later I'm slamming into Cameron and
we're on the ground in a pile of giggles. I should be freaking out
right now, but being around him makes everything else seem less
important.

He drives to the park and pulls into the
spot next to my car. Streetlights illuminate the deserted parking
lot. "I don't think you're going to make it for dinner." He walks
me to the driver's door and pulls me into an embrace. "Good luck.
Let me know how it goes."

I give him one last kiss. "I will."

The short drive doesn't give me enough time
to come up with a plausible story. I was suspended for cheating
because I've been flickering. What kind of plausible excuse is
there?

They're both at the kitchen table when I go
inside. "Biz?" Mom calls.

"Sorry I'm late. Cameron and I were taking
pictures at the park." I enter the kitchen and try to ignore the
disappointed look on Mom's face and the disapproving one on
Dad's.

"A little dark for pictures, isn't it?"

Dad's not cutting me any slack.

"We're studying the contrast between light
and dark. You need shadows to capture that."

"Mm-hmm."

Do they know I was suspended? I expected a
full-on assault the minute I walked in the door, but they just seem
peeved that I'm late. A thought suddenly occurs to me, and I look
Dad in the eye. "Where were you earlier? No one was here when I got
home."

He looks at Mom. I follow his gaze.

"Your father had some tests done this
afternoon and it went a little longer than we expected."

My heart leaps to attention. "Why didn't you
tell me? I would've gone to the hospital. You should have called."
My mouth snaps shut when I realize what I've said. I should've
called, too. So this is how they feel. "I'm sorry."

Dad touches my hand. His eyes are glassy,
more watery than normal. "They just switched my medication. Nothing
for you to get worked up over."

I need to get this over with. "Speaking of
getting worked up, I have bad news." I force the words past the
lump in my throat. “I got suspended.”

"Suspended?" Mom shouts. "What on earth
for?"

I don't want to say it. Can't they just
leave it at that?

"Biz." Dad's voice is about ten thousand
decibels louder than it was two seconds ago. "What the hell did you
do to get suspended?"

I take a deep breath. "Stride Right accused
me of cheating."

They both lean back in their chairs. Finally
Dad speaks. "Did you?"

"Not exactly."

Mom expels a breath she's been holding.
"What do you mean, not exactly? Either you cheated or you
didn't."

I hold my hands out in front of me. "I don't
know how else to explain it. Sometimes things just… click for me
and I remember the answers. Other times, not so much."

Dad's head cocks to the side.

What did I say?

But Mom's not done. "How long are you
suspended?"

I hang my head. "Three days."

"Three days!" She's like a parrot. "Is that
why you were out so late tonight?"

This is when I hate that my parents are so
involved in my life. They know in a matter of seconds that I stayed
out late because I knew I'd be grounded. "Maybe."

Mom sighs again. "I don't know what to say.
Go to your room so your father and I can talk about you."

"Can I at least eat?"
They can't deny me sustenance!

"Take it with you."

I hurry away from the table before she
changes her mind.

I text Cameron to let him know they're
deciding my fate. "Doesn't look good."

Ten minutes later my fears are
confirmed.

Grounded for two weeks.

Chapter 33

How bad is it to sneak out on the first day
of being grounded?

Yeah, I figured as much. Instead I'll try
plan number two: begging Dad to accompany me to the park with me so
I can take more photos.

"It's for school. It's not like I'll be
socializing with anyone. They're all in class."

"A picnic is the complete opposite of what
we had in mind when we grounded you."

"Then we'll eat before we go. Whatever you
want." He's caving, I can tell. Grounding is more Mom's thing.

"Fine, but only for a couple hours."

I leap at Dad and give him a hug. "Thank
you!"

Following Dad into the park, I can't help
but think of being here with Cameron yesterday, but when Dad lays
out the blanket, I banish all thoughts of Cameron from my mind. My
dad and my boyfriend need to stay in very separate mental
compartments.

As we eat our sandwiches, I survey the park
for differences from yesterday. The sun is almost directly above
us, so while the shadows aren't as vast, they're more dense than
their sprawling counterparts.

A shout from the playground makes us both
turn. A little boy tumbles backwards down the slide. My reflex is
to take a picture, but I've had enough of real life news.

"You did that once when you were
little."

"I did?"

Dad wipes his mouth on his sleeve. "Scared
the crap out of your mom, but I knew you were okay. Even lying
there on the ground, you had this determined look in your eyes that
said you weren't going to let some silly piece of playground
equipment get the best of you."

"My eyes said that?"

"Something along those lines." He smiles.
"You still have that look."

"Well, I'm
not
gonna let some silly slide get the best of
me." Memories of making out with Cameron in the jungle gym flash
through my mind. I can feel my cheeks getting warm. Maybe we should
change the topic. "So I didn't get hurt?"

"Just a few bruises. But that's when your
mom stopped taking you to the park. Said she couldn't handle
watching you get hurt."

"So that's when you took over."

"Not that I particularly enjoy seeing you
suffer, but I sometimes think I have more empathy than your
mother."

Interesting he said empathy and not
sympathy. We studied that in English last semester. Sympathy means
you feel bad for someone. Empathy means you've been in a similar
situation and understand from experience what the person is going
through. I somehow doubt Dad fell backwards down a slide.

"Anyway, whatever the reason, I'm glad I've
been able to spend so much time with you."

"You don't miss working?"

His smile fades. "Sure, but you can only
have so many seizures at work before they gently suggest you might
be better off at home. My condition may prevent me from working,
but it also qualifies me for disability."

Another thing I've never noticed until now:
Dad never says he has epilepsy. He says he's sick or has a
condition or, my favorite, he says he gets the shakes and wiggles.
I lean over and give him a hug. "I hate that you're sick, but I am
glad you've always been there for me. Not many of my friends can
say that."

"You believe that, right?"

"What?"

"That I'm here for you. No matter what." His
eyes have regained their clarity and it's like he can see right
into my soul.

I turn away before he finds out something
even he can't help with.

*****

After lunch I leave Dad napping on the
blanket and wander the park, my camera ready. It's a lot more
crowded this time of day, mostly with moms armed with strollers,
diaper bags, and tottering little kids, but the occasional
gray-haired couple hobble by as well. A few people look my way when
I snap their picture, but I smile and wave to convince them I'm not
a child molester.

I stop in front of the bench I photographed
last night. Sunlight beats on the smooth surface, leaving the
scratches and divots no place to hide.

Click-click-click
.

Shadows hide between the wooden slats
and in the groove that's carved along the length of the bench's
frame. I sit down and tilt my head back until I'm staring at the
branches high above.
Oh!
I
sit upright.
I was going to take pictures
of the tree line.

I lift the lens to my eye and study the
branches that seem to fold inside themselves. Small gaps here and
there seem wide enough to allow a person to pass through, but for
the most part it's like a fortress wall.

Click-click-click
.

It may turn out that none of these are
usable, but it can't hurt. I slowly scan the edge, clicking as I
go.

"There you are!"

My finger continues to depress the shutter,
even as I turn at Dad's voice. "You scared me."

"Sorry. When I woke up I didn't see you." He
holds up my cell. "You left this in your bag."

I touch my back pocket. I hadn't realized it
wasn't there.

Dad nods at the camera. "You getting
anything good?"

I rise. "I think so. It's hard to tell on
the display." I fall in step with him as he heads back to the
blanket. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah, I think I've had enough sunshine for
one day."

Chapter 34

I haven't technically been banished to my
bedroom, but I'm hiding there anyway. Dad may be laid back about
the whole suspension thing, but Mom isn't so understanding. Better
I play the role of good daughter and do the homework Amelia emailed
to me.

Shortly after dinner I download the photos
from the park. The ones from yesterday with people in them are
pretty boring, but the time lapse of the bench turned out better
than I expected. The camera didn't stay as still as it would have
if I had a tripod—something else to ask for on my birthday—but the
slight shift gives the montage a stop-action feel, something I'll
definitely try to repeat again.

The photos jump from the edge of the park at
dusk to bright sunlight. The difference is startling, even on the
computer screen. The sun bleached the color from everything it
touched, while the shadows seem over-saturated, luring me
closer.

I flip ahead, curious to see the park's edge
in the brighter light.

Leaves and branches twine around each
other much like I remember, but a splash of color at the edge of
the frame surprises me. I don't recall seeing anyone there. I click
to the next picture and an out-of-focus little girl in a red
sweater stands in my picture.
How did I
miss her?

Then I remember. Dad startled me and I took
the last few pictures without looking. I click ahead and my stomach
drops. There's a man standing behind the little girl.

Don't be stupid,
I scold myself.
It's probably her
dad
.

He’s wearing some kind of blue jacket and
tan pants. The photo's too blurry to see his face, but the way he
holds his shoulders—hunched forward like he bends over a lot—makes
the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I can’t tell if it’s the
same man from the games but something about the way he’s standing
feels familiar.

Time for a break.
I push away from my desk and head downstairs to get a drink
of water. The evening news drifts into the kitchen. "…last seen
wearing a red sweater. Police say—"

The glass slips from my hand, shattering at
my feet.

"Biz? What happened?" Mom's at my side in a
matter of seconds, picking the largest shards from the floor.