Tears (9 page)

But in a Village School first, Heather didn't say a word.

And for the first time in her life Gaia
wished
Heather would insult her, thus reassuring Gaia that all was well with the universe and the logical order of things hadn't been completely tossed out the window.

Instead Heather just sighed.

The three of them silently filed into MacGregor's classroom. Ed immediately made for a space at the back, surrounded on all sides. No room for Heather. Or Gaia. Like an automaton, Heather sat down next to the FOHs. Gaia slouched into the first vacant spot she could see,
still trying to process the schizoid scenario she'd just witnessed.
She knew she wouldn't get an answer from Ed. No, Ed had closed himself off to the world—as tightly as Gaia herself had in the very first weeks she had arrived in New York.

“And here we have our protagonist, Meursault...,” MacGregor opened.

Gaia stared at the blackboard, her muddled, irritable thoughts punctuated in short intervals by MacGregor's words. Words like
disconnected
and
alienated.

More than ever, Gaia felt she could relate.

I SHOULD JUST GET OUT OF HERE.

Penance

But it wasn't an option. Sam's feet carried him through the forbidding metal doors of the visitors' entrance of the Manhattan federal jail—a dank spot in the bowels of lower
Manhattan, virtually hidden from the sidewalk by a long, descending staircase. As soon as the doors slammed behind him, he froze. A metal detector blocked further entry into the facility. His grip tightened around the package.
His skin was clammy with sweat, but he couldn't tell if he was hot or cold.
Anxiety had scraped his nerves raw. He had no idea where he was going or who he was supposed to meet. The instructions hadn't said a thing about his contact. Sam could only picture trying to walk through the metal detector and setting it off—then being apprehended for whatever horrible stuff was concealed in this box—

A woman in a prison guard uniform suddenly appeared from behind the security station and strode toward him. Sam sucked in an extra hit of oxygen.
Her.
That woman from the park. His pulse slammed into overdrive—but then his eyes narrowed. Or. . . not. This one had close-cropped bangs and was more over-weight than muscular. She also had a lazy, milky eye that drifted to the side. Sam shuddered. What kind of a place was this?

She stopped right in front of him. He looked at her. A curt nod was the only signal she gave. But that was all he needed. He handed over the package.

“Better get out of here,” she said, weighing the package in her hands, her good eye boring into Sam. “This is no place for a pretty boy like you.”

Sam blinked. His stomach squeezed. Without pausing for another breath, he turned and bolted out the doors—nearly tripping on the stairwell, using his hands to propel him up the last few steps. There were no words to describe his revulsion: at that guard, at himself, at the stale jail air.
No place for a pretty boy.
The words conjured up images too sordid to ponder.

He kept running as he hit the street, sprinting toward the nearest subway station. His heart knocked at his rib cage. He blinked rapidly, feeling the weight of tears behind his eyes.

Why is this happening?
Why was everything falling apart, just when it had started to come together? But just as fast as self-pity swooped in, Sam felt the familiar gnaw of guilt. He was ashamed to feel so sorry for himself. At least he could feel
something.
Mike Suarez didn't have that option anymore.
Maybe this whole situation—the mess with the police, the bribes, the photographs, the mysterious enemy—was his penance for Mike. Maybe that voice on the phone hadn't been lying. Maybe that voice really
was
a messenger from beyond the grave.

In which case, Sam might have to heed the voice's warnings—even the ones that told him to keep away from Gaia.

To:
J


From:
L


Date:
February 13


File:
001


Subject:
Dinner party


Plans for the party progressing. Invitations have gone out. Costumes have been delivered. More to follow.


Why I believe I will walk again:


•
The doctors are optimistic.


•
I stood up.


Why I believe I won't walk again:


•
Doctors are optimistic by trade.


•
I fell down.


Ashen faced, he opened his mouth, apparently searching for the right words to say. As if there could be any.

GAIA NODDED COOLLY FROM THE
fountain as Sam waved from the miniature Arc de Triomphe. He ran toward her, smiling.

The Boyfriend-Girlfriend Thing

“Hey,” she called. But her voice betrayed her lack of enthusiasm. Her eyes were on the dry fountain bed, where old brown pennies lay like bits of dirt—dead wishes from some long-ago summer, when the water had incited people to throw their change away so that their dreams could come true.
As if it could make a difference.

And then Sam was right in front of her. Gaia stiffened her neck and moved almost imperceptibly so that Sam's mouth found her cheek and not her lips. He had suggested a walk after school instead of their usual get-together at his dorm. And as usual, he didn't give any reason for the change in plans.

More secrets. More deception.

“How's it going?” he asked.

“Fine,” she lied.

She hated lying.
Until very recently she'd made a hard-and-fast rule for herself: Always tell the truth, or don't say anything at all. But that had been back when she was alone, on her own, with no
attachments. She realized she'd learned a lesson. The closer you got to people, the more you had to lie. It was sick.

Sam stared at her. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then sighed. Gaia shook her head. Maybe he didn't want to lie anymore, either, so he was just shutting up as well. She stuffed her hands inside her fleece jacket. She and Sam remained silent as they headed out of the park and south, over to Bleecker Street. Gaia concentrated on the drab gray concrete beneath her feet. It was so confusing: Until now they'd grabbed every available moment of privacy so they could explore the intimate side of their relationship—keeping the world out because nothing mattered except their being together. Until now.

He doesn't want to be alone with me.

Or maybe there was another reason. Gaia desperately wanted to believe there was some palatable explanation for why Sam would rather walk the streets than be alone with Gaia behind closed doors—some reason that didn't produce a mental gag reflex.
But all she could come up with were pitiful joke theories.
Like maybe Sam needed fresh air after all that “studying” and “lab work” and “oversleeping.”
Sure.

“Let's go into Chinatown,” Sam suggested as they banked east toward Lafayette. “I haven't been there in a long time.”

Gaia searched Sam's face. His eyes were glassy as marbles, unchanging. Vacant. His skin was so pale, it was almost translucent, the few freckles on his nose standing out as if they'd been made with a Sharpie. He kept looking over his shoulder, too. Why? Was he doing something wrong by walking the streets with his girlfriend?

“What's the matter with you?” Gaia found herself asking. She stopped in her tracks.
Her tolerance meter had reached its capacity.
The time had come to end this lame charade before they spent an afternoon walking in empty circles, going nowhere.

“Nothing. It's. . . I'm sorry,” Sam murmured. “Please, Gaia, let's just walk, okay?”

“You know what?” Gaia heard herself ask, as if she were listening to somebody else. “I don't really want to hang out right now.”

Sam searched her face. “What?”

“I think I'd just rather walk by myself,” she said, walking faster.

“But we. . .” Sam didn't finish.

She lengthened her stride and pushed down Lafayette, banging past a huddle of German tourists, weaving through a band of Pokémon-backpacked children—leaving Sam behind. For a fleeting instant she honestly didn't care if he caught up.

“Hey!” Sam shouted feebly behind her.

“I'll see you later!” she called, and her voice caught. She couldn't handle the pain anymore. She broke into a jog, whipping past delis and shoe stores. Street signs blurred as misery rose up inside her. It felt good to run, to have adrenaline flowing through her, to feel icy air tear into her lungs. She would run and run and run—

“Stop!” Sam shouted.

He was right behind her now. She tried to speed up, but he careened past her on Spring Street, throwing himself in front of her to break her stride. She knew she could sidestep him and keep going. She had plenty of physical steam left in her. But there seemed no point to that, either.
Because she'd outrun even her own motivation for running.
Where was she going? Nowhere. That was the whole point. She could get away from Sam, but she couldn't outrun her problems.

“Gaia. Please listen.” Sam panted as he ran a hand through his hair. “I...need you to wait.”

“For what?” Gaia groaned.

“For...me.”The words came in a tired sigh.

Gaia folded her arms across her chest. What did he think she'd been doing this whole time? For weeks? For
months.
Once again she couldn't bring herself to look at him. She stared stone-faced past his head, over to a strip of sidewalk vendors attempting to push their phony Rolex watches and Prada bags
onto a flock of bland-looking tourists. Any idiot would know that the merchandise was fake. It was no secret.
But people bought the stuff, anyway, because they were a bunch of freaking posers.
Everybody was. Suddenly the whole world seemed pointless, just a place for pretense.

“Give it up,” Gaia mumbled. Her throat constricted. Her rage melted away, overcome with an aching sadness. “Stop pretending you care when you don't. Stop pretending to be someone you're not. If you don't want to go out with me, then say so. I can take it. I've dealt with a lot worse stuff in my life.”

Sam winced. “Is that what you think?” He gasped, shaking his head. “That I don't want to go out with you? How can—”

“What am I supposed to think?” Gaia shoved a fistful of hair away from her face, but the wind whipped it right back in front of her. “You hide things from me. You make things up. And now you're trying to avoid having me in your dorm. . .” She couldn't finish. Her voice was too strained. And there was no way she would allow herself to cry.

“You've got it all wrong,” Sam whispered.

Gaia laughed miserably. “Then are you going to tell me what's going on? Because I can't do this anymore. I can't...pretend.”

Sam nodded. He looked weak and unsteady. “I know. But I can't tell you. I can only tell you that I need some space here.” He opened his mouth to add more, then apparently thought better of it.

“But why?” Gaia choked out. She didn't deserve this.
And there was no way she could explain this freakish behavior away with sympathy.
Whatever was turning Sam into a shell of his former self was bigger than his grief over Mike. She knew that now.

“Look,” Sam replied, taking a step toward her. “Please trust me, Gaia. This has nothing to do with us. I'm going through some personal stuff. Something I need to sort out by myself.”

“Fine. Then go through it. Just leave me out if it until you're done, okay?”

Gaia turned and walked. Sadness gave way to anger once more.
She
had opened up to him about her life,
her father and their tentative new dress rehearsal for a normal life,
her uncle—everything. But apparently he couldn't reciprocate. Maybe she'd even scared him off by opening up too much. Now,
that
was funny. A grim smile spread across her face as she strode down Broadway, turning east along Canal, heading for places unknown—anywhere where she could get lost.

Behind her Sam bobbed through the crowds, still following her for whatever inane purpose, unable to
do the right thing and just get lost. And that left Gaia with only one option. To get
herself
lost. If there was one thing Chinatown was perfect for, it was that.

Once again she broke into an angry sprint, her feet pelting the asphalt as she crossed Canal and swung down Mott Street. The Mandarin alphabet thickened on street signs, snaking up above noodle shop facades. She sped past families emerging from dim sum lunches, tiny stores crammed full of vases and silk pajamas, grocers selling fruits and fish. She didn't stop to see any of it. Nope. She didn't care what she saw. She didn't care, period.
Because Sam evidently didn't care.
About her or about anything—

“Gaia!” he shouted.

So why is he still chasing me?

His anger stopped her. She spun around to face him. What right did
he
have to sound so pissed?

“Why is it that your life can be one big secret, but I can't even keep just a little part of mine to myself?” Sam gasped, doubling over as he staggered to close the gap between them. “Don't tell me I know everything about you. I've had to knock down a lot of doors to get even the little information you've given me about your life.”