The Stranger Inside (5 page)

He was way different than he had been earlier tonight, so much more attentive and sincere. I found myself actually opening up to him a little—something I didn’t do with people, not any more. I’d lost the ability to open my heart and let people in thanks to Jeremy.

But I found myself telling Sawyer about my school in New York, where I’d majored in dance as it was a performing arts school for girls. I didn’t tell him about Dad, though. Nothing about him. Not that I lived with him, not that he’d died. Nothing. I’d done enough crying for tonight—and talking about Dad, it would only make me cry more.

When I glanced up at Sawyer, he was gazing at me as though I had glistening jewels in my hair. He smiled when I cocked my head, curious at his staring.

“You look really pretty in the firelight,” he said reverently. He leaned in close to me as though he was going to kiss me, but then backed away slightly before I even flinched. It seemed he knew better than to touch me, yet it seemed hard for him to resist doing his usual moves, as though keeping his hands off me was taking great effort and will. His eyes glistened, sort of hungry, and I knew I’d babbled too animatedly about dancing under the lights. It’s just when you love something, talking about it can make you all shiny and beautiful, and that’s the way he was looking at me—as though I was a shining, beautiful angel he needed to touch.

It was flattering, but disconcerting.

He smiled. “I could tell you were a dancer. That didn’t surprise me. The way you walk—you float—graceful, like a ballerina.”

I remembered how he had held his breath as I’d hopped into his car. I bit my lip, confused that a boy like him—so charismatic and cute—could seem so taken so quickly. As if to answer my question he softly interrupted the quiet.

 “You’re probably wondering why I—” He stopped and snapped his mouth shut, seemed to weigh what he was going to say, then cleared his throat and started again. “I knew you, before—you lived here before.”

The hairs on my arms stood on end. How did he know that? When I just stared at him, my mouth hanging open, he gave a faint smile. “This morning—when I met you at the mall, I didn’t know who you were—I mean, it’s been a long time.”

“Three years,” I whispered.

“Yeah, and you changed a lot. Well, not really, but you got all curvy and—it’s been a long time. I didn’t recognize you—at first. You said you were Kenzie, I didn’t question it. You were just some hot chick ready to go.”

My stomach twisted at that, but Sawyer quickly moved the conversation in a different direction, postponing my need to barf. He leaned in close with a wry smile and confessed, “I had a huge crush on you when you lived here before.” He smiled as my jaw went slack, opening again in shock. He gave a little laugh. “You were in my freshmen English class. I used to sit all through class hoping you’d get called on. I loved seeing you saunter up to the whiteboard to conjugate a verb.”

His lips quirked. “So it doesn’t surprise me you majored in dance. Like I said, the way you walk—you float. I swear, my eyes used to follow you all around school.” He gave me a weak smile. “But you didn’t know I was alive.”

Still totally shocked, I brought my knees up to my chest, feeling chilled. He knew me before? I studied him, hard. Maybe he looked familiar. Maybe. But it had been a long time—almost three years—and I’d been new to the school and only attended a few months. And I’d only had eyes for Jeremy.
Only
Jeremy.

I swallowed, trying not to go ballistic on him, to hear him out. “If you knew me before—then you knew I wasn’t Kenzie.”

He shook his head. “No, I swear, when I saw you in the mall this morning, you didn’t look like you. I mean—it was you, but you had your gorgeous hair up in a ponytail. And Jodi, your eyes—they’re green.”

Right. I calmed down, believing him. This morning I had
tried
to look different. I wanted a job. So bad. And I’d wanted to be taken seriously. So someone would hire me and trust me and … take me seriously. So, I tried to look older and mature. I put my hair up in a tight ponytail and put on brown contacts because I read somewhere that brown eyes convey sincerity, and green eyes are apparently “flirty.” I didn’t want to be flirty. Or taken as flirty. I wanted a job. I
tried
to look different. So, yeah, I guess I couldn’t hold it against him that he didn’t recognize me after three years, especially since I’d called myself a different name.

Breathe, I told myself.

Sawyer went on. “But it wasn’t only that stuff—the way you looked. Because I think I would have seen past that—I really do—even after three years. But you
walked
different, Jodi.” He said it like that was the proof. “And you talked different and you acted different.”

A chill went through me. I got it: I’d been different. I clutched my stomach, feeling sick again. Sawyer seemed to notice and changed the subject. Fast.

He threw a rock over the cliff, eyeing me. “Back in the ninth grade, you wrote a poem called Love.”

Suddenly, tingles ran through my body. I sat motionless, staring out at the stars. I remembered that poem. I had to read it at the front of the class. I had almost died of fright. But that poem, I loved that poem. I’d written it about Jeremy.

Sawyer’s eyes were on me, studying me like he was trying to read my thoughts. When he finally spoke his voice was low and husky. “After you read that poem—I remember I wanted it to be about me.” He gave me a wan smile. “I wanted you to love me.”

I stared at him, suddenly urged to warn him:
I’m a mess, I’ll hurt you, I’m not over Jeremy, I’ll never be over Jeremy.

Tonight I realized that—when I thought I was kissing him, when I practically died hearing his voice on the phone—I’ll never be over Jeremy
.

But, see … I
needed
to get over him.

And I needed a friend. So bad.

So, I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t warn Sawyer about how broken I was. Instead, I just sat there—him looking at me, me looking at him. The two of us thinking two different thoughts. Two
completely
different thoughts.

***

When we got to my house, the lights were still off. I leaned my head back against the passenger’s seat of Sawyer’s car. Great. Terrific. Mom still wasn’t home. I had multiple personalities but no Mom. Or dad. Or anyone.

“Want me to come in for a while?” Sawyer offered, seeming to notice my emotional state.

I sighed, unbuckling my seatbelt. “I’m used to being alone.” My voice caught, making me wince. “It’s okay.”

He reached out for me, but at the last second instead of clasping my arm as I could tell he wanted, he ran his hand through his hair. He was pretty observant for a guy, it seemed, able to tell I couldn’t handle being touched right now. I’d start bawling and never stop.

“Jodi, you don’t have to be alone.” He watched me stare up at him, liking the words. “Now you have me.” He paused then raised his eyebrows. “We
are
going to start dating, right?”

I bit my lip, still staring at him, kind of warmed. It was comforting, what he said, that I wasn’t alone. I needed that. To hear it. To believe it. Unfortunately though, I didn’t want to date him. I couldn’t. For his own sake as well as mine. I was emotional annihilation.

“Actually,” I said, too tired to give him my complicated list of reasons why we couldn’t date—Jeremy or my dad or my mangled heart. “What I really need is a friend. There’s a lot of stuff going on in my life—”

Sawyer didn’t say anything, just waited for me to go on.

 “The thing is, I don’t know anyone—just you.” I took a deep breath. “I was hoping we could be friends.”

He shook his head. “No, sorry. I don’t do that friends stuff. I like you—a lot. I want to be more than friends.”

I sucked in my breath, his response kind of shocking me. Speechless. I didn’t expect it, at all. Total honesty—scary. I bit my lip, not sure how to proceed. “Well, we’ll see, okay? But for now—can’t we just start out as friends?”

“I think I liked Kenzie better.”

I gritted my teeth. I was pretty sure he was only kidding—okay, I knew he was—but the Kenzie thing bugged me. I mouthed the words, “Friends.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he muttered. “But I’m not kidding around, I want to be more than friends with you.”

I bit my lip, kind of flattered. It wasn’t like he was a dork, desperate to date any girl he could get his hands on. He seemed pretty cool. But the thing was, he was extremely intense. I didn’t know if I could handle intense—not when the feelings were towards me.

“Well, let’s just see what happens,” I hedged.

He sighed. “Yeah, take it slow. I get it. Still, I think I liked Kenzie better. She wasn’t into all this friendship stuff.”

“Look, don’t get your hopes up that Kenzie is ever going to come again. Hopefully it was just a one-time thing. I mean, it was—definitely. Just the one time.”

“Yeah,” he said. “For your sake I hope it was. Look, I was just messing with you. I don’t need Kenzie.” He looked me in the eye. “And yeah, I’ll be friends with you. I’m willing to do that. For a while.”

The way he put that left me with mixed emotions, but mostly what I felt was relief. Whatever happened later—well, that would be later. I’d deal with it then. But for now, a lot of pressure was suddenly off my shoulders. I had a friend. And really it helped that he was a boy. A boy in this case was good. Awesome, even.

When I saw Jeremy again, I’d need Sawyer to keep me from falling. Grey was too far away now. He couldn’t help. It seemed Sawyer was my new crutch.

CHAPTER 3

There’s so much blood. I can feel her heart pumping, pump, pump, pump, right under my palms. And the blood, all the blood. It’s squishing out of her, gushing onto me. I’m covered in it, drowning in it.

Where are the sirens? I strain to hear sirens. Pray to hear them. But all I hear are crickets and crying and the traffic, far off in the distance.

Where’s the ambulance?

Someone. Help. Please.

I’m shaking. So bad. The cold night air whips in my face, tangles my hair. I want to run. Get away. Far, far away. It’s too horrible. Too horrific. And I can’t help her. I can’t. There’s too much blood. But I can’t run either. Can’t leave her. She’s dying. And Dad’s yelling, “Push down harder, Jodi! Push!”

I pump and pump with all my might, but it’s not helping. It’s no use. I can’t stop it. There’s too much blood. It keeps pouring and pouring and pouring …

I bolted awake sopping in sweat. The phone was ringing, that’s what woke me—the phone.

I shot up, only to lie back down, relief washing through my drenched body.
It was only a dream
. The realization eased the ache in my heart, a little. But it didn’t ease my shivering, or crying. ‘Cause the accident—it really happened. I think the girl’s dead.

“Phone, Jodi.”

Mom called from downstairs. For a moment her words meant nothing. Equaled, “Blah, blah, blah.” They made no sense. My mind was still on the accident, on the blood. I rubbed my eyes, trying to wake up.
Chill, Jodi
.
It was a dream
.

Still trembling, I ran my hands through my matted hair.
What?
…
Oh.
The phone. For me.
Mom actually told me. Miracle.

“I got it, Mom.” I shoved away the last of my tears, then waited until I finally heard her hang up before answering. “Hello?”

“Hi, Jodi? It’s me, Sawyer.”

My stomach tilted.
Sawyer … yeah.
It wasn’t exactly that I wasn’t glad to hear from him, not exactly. Only it would have been nice to discover there was no Sawyer, that he had only been a dream, too—like the blood—and that I didn’t come-to in his arms last night and been another freakin’ person. Would have been nice.

But no such luck.

I swallowed, glancing at the clock on my dresser, still trying to get my bearings, 2:15 p.m. Ugh! I hadn’t even meant to go to sleep. But lately I took naps, like an old person, barely able to keep my eyes open past noon. What I looked up on the Internet said it has to do with grief, my body trying to cope. Who knows, the info might be right. Maybe. Unfortunately, it seems my body’s doing so hot in that department—coping. Neither is the rest of me, apparently, ‘cause now, you know, now there’s Kenzie. Wild, fun, Kenzie.

“Hi,” Sawyer said again, sounding distracted. “Listen, I need to tell you something, okay?”

“Okay…” I drawled out.

“It’s just, I know your parents. And they don’t like me.”

That actually got my mind off the blood, for a second. ‘Cause suddenly I remembered last night—how mysterious he got when he took me home the first time. “How do they know you?”

“I’ll explain later,” he hedged. “The thing is, my friend Parker is going to be picking you up in about a half hour.”

I rubbed at my forehead, trying to shake the groggy sludge from twisted sleep out of my already screwed-on-wrong brain.

“Your friend Parker? Why?”

“I can’t pick you up—because of your parents.” He paused. “But I want to see you. You didn’t get in trouble about last night, did you?”

I lay back on my bed.
Need. More. Sleep
. “No. My mom has no idea I didn’t go to bed at seven.” Or stay home, or stay one person.

“Good. So, I’ll see you in about a half hour, okay?” He sounded all,
Everything’s Settled,
and it had me shaky—maybe halfway from being wet with sweat, but also it was him—Mr. I-Have-a-Plan. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to think this through. He wanted to see me—that was good, right?

Wasn’t that
my
plan?

If I had a guy for a friend it would be easier to face Jeremy. I needed someone. Anyone. I couldn’t face Jeremy alone. I just … couldn’t. After hearing his voice last night I knew that. But really, I knew before—when I thought I was kissing him yesterday, when I got all happy and pathetic. I knew. I wasn’t over Jeremy. I’d never be over Jeremy.