Transparent (20 page)

“Sorry.” He pulls away from me, biting his nails. Finally he takes a deep breath. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you, and I wanted to come clean today.”

I gulp. “Not entirely honest how?”

“I …” He looks away. “I like you. I have since day one.”

“Is that all?” I put my hand over my heart as if that’ll slow it down. Smacking his shoulder, I laugh. “I thought you were going to say something horrible!”

He offers a wary smile. “You don’t think that’s horrible?”

“Not at all.” I feel like my face might break from smiling so wide. Seth likes me. He’s always liked me.

He holds out his hands, and I take them. “I hoped you’d feel that way, but you hated me so much at first I thought maybe I was reading too much into it.”

“It wasn’t just me—you hated me, too.”

“Never.”

That only makes me smile wider. “Then why were you so mean?”

He sighs, some of his nervousness coming back. “I didn’t know how to handle it all. I kept saying the wrong things, and then you seemed more interested in Brady than me—”

“What?” My face heats up. How did he pick up on that? I never told anyone but Miles. “I didn’t …”

“Don’t worry about it, okay? Brady makes a much better first impression than me. I just consider myself lucky you stuck around long enough to give me a chance.”

I slide my hands away from his. Something isn’t adding up here. And then it clicks—why Brady always brought Seth, always talked about him, always invited me places where Seth would be. “Wait. Are you saying you and Brady planned everything?”

His eyes widen. “No! Well, maybe. You wouldn’t have come if I asked, and Brady knew I liked you, so he helped me. Is that so bad?”

Anger and sadness well up inside of me, to the point that I end up pacing the room instead. Seth watches me, clearly worried about the direction this has gone. I can’t believe he deliberately made me think Brady liked me. “You manipulated me.”

“No.” He tries to come closer but I step back. “Fiona, I would never. I just wanted to be around you. I wanted you to like me back before …”

“Before what? Before you revealed all your plots to mess with my emotions? I thought you actually cared about me!”

“I do!” His voice sounds desperate. “I didn’t
make
you like Brady! I only noticed that you did.”

“And used it to your advantage.”

That cuts him short. He leans on a desk, his fight suddenly gone. “You’re right; that was a mistake, a really stupid mistake. I wanted to make it an easier transition, not make your life harder than it already is.”

I let out a wry laugh. “Of course, because in the end, I’m just another problem for you to fix.”

“No, Fi—”

“I don’t want to hear it! You know what your problem is, Seth? You really do think people are like math problems; you still think there’s an answer to why they’re messed up.” My nails dig into my palms, but I don’t mind the pain. “Well, guess what? There isn’t. Some people are just messed up. I’m not an equation. You can’t fix me with your plots and nice words and … and …”

“And?” A smile creeps onto his face, as if he knows I’m thinking about all the times I’ve let him be closer to me than anyone. Part of me is screaming to stop fighting with him and let it slide, but I can’t. He tricked me, and he knew more than anyone how I’ve been tricked my whole life.

“I gotta go.” There’s too much flooding my brain as I head for the door. I can’t think, can’t breathe, with him looking at me like that. For the first time in a while, home seems like a haven.

“No, I haven’t told you everything yet.” Seth follows me, but I don’t turn.

“I think you’ve said enough.”

“Just wait!” Seth grabs my hand, and it takes a second to process what that means. First I realize I’m wearing my favorite purple halter. Then I remember I didn’t put bracelets on today. And then I comprehend that there is no possible way Seth could have grabbed my
hand
—not my shoulder, or arm, or elbow—unless …

I whirl around, pulling away as I do. Seth’s eyes meet mine directly, and I know. He’s not guessing, not getting lucky. He can
see
my eyes.

He looks away. “I messed up. Big time. I should have told you sooner, but I was scared. I didn’t want you to leave or hate me even more. I didn’t want you to feel exposed.”

Except I do feel exposed. That’s
all
I feel. Everything else is gone. It takes me a moment to find a word to describe the new sensation coursing through me. I’m … naked. This is what it feels like. Even wearing clothes I want to cover myself, to hide from him. Normally I’d strip and run, but that would only make it worse.

I always imagined that being seen for the first time would make me happier than anything else could. I was wrong. I don’t feel at all happy. I’m terrified to know the answer to what I’ve wondered my whole life. What does he see? I can’t bear to ask. I can’t handle him looking at me and seeing what I can’t.

He lied. All this time he’s known, and he lied. He could see my emotions—that’s how he knew I liked Brady—and he used them. How could he hide something so huge from me for so long?

“I … I gotta go, okay?” I finally choke out.

“I never wanted to fix you,” he says softly. “Whether you knew it or not, you’ve been fixing me.”

“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say.

“Can I at least take you to wherever you’re going? I want to make sure you’re safe.” His voice cracks. I refuse to think about what I might be doing to him. I’ve hit my max, and I can’t hide from it like I usually do.

I shake my head.
Holy shit, that’s all I need to do.
He doesn’t need me to say no; he saw me shake my head. I wrench the door open and break into a run, not looking back.

My sandals slap the pavement as I run from school, from Seth. I can’t get his eyes out of my head no matter how hard I try. They’re like windows into who I really am. I thought he already knew too much, but he knows
everything.
He knows more about me than I do. It’s not fair.

I run harder, like that might help me forget.

Everything looks the same when I see the stucco house, with its shady tree and slightly dry lawn. Home never looked so good. Then it hits me. This is home now. I’ve never thought of one of these getaway houses that way. I’m not sure if I like it or not, because losing a home would hurt more than losing a house.

When I open the front door, Mom spits out her coffee. “Fiona!”

“What are you doing here?” I throw my schoolbag down, frustrated. She was supposed to be at work. I shouldn’t have to deal with her, too.

“I have the late shift today.” Her eyes well up with tears. “Where have you been?”

“It’s none—”

“Of my business. Right.” She sets her mug on the table. “I’m just … happy you’re safe. I’ve missed you.”

Part of me wants to run to her and beg her to make it all better, but I don’t. “I need to lie down.”

“Fine.” She stands awkwardly, like she wants to hug me or something. “Will you be staying long?”

“Yeah.”

I rush to my room and recommence freaking out. After putting on layers of clothes, I hole up in my bedcovers and try to pretend everything is the same. It’s not. I still feel naked. I can’t stop thinking about how Seth looked at me.
At
me. Not through me or near me. The idea is everything at once—I feel like I’m ripping apart in a thousand directions.

On some deep level, I think had suspicions. I just couldn’t believe it. That first day in tutoring, he acted surprised when I gave him my name. He knew I was the invisible girl, except not to him. He probably thought he had to hide his real ability from me. Maybe that’s why he was so mean at first.

And how does he see? Is it like X-ray vision? I’ve heard of infrared and night vision like Carlos, but never someone being able to see through things like good old Superman.

Every moment we spent together has changed. I want to die when I realize he saw me standing there naked that night I hid in the desert. That’s why he wasn’t looking for me.

He could see my scowl when Brady called me “Fifi”; that’s why he called him on it. He could see all the expressions I never thought to hide—every time I glared or smiled or rolled my eyes at him. He could see everything, and he must be able to see through more than just me. That’s how he found me so fast the night we played sardines.

Speaking of sardines, that’s probably what Brady and Bea were whispering about at Taco Bell. They were trying to get us alone. Does everyone know he likes me? They do; they have to. That’s why Brady told Carlos to back off. Not so he could make a move, but so Seth could. I am such an idiot.

I’ve never felt so blind in my life. And blind to the one person who can see me, no less.

The worst thing is part of me wants to go back there and see him. I left him hanging, and I don’t have a clue how to make contact again. I don’t dare talk to Brady, who willingly tricked me for his brother. And I can’t face Bea when she knew this the whole time, too. She even hinted at it! I was just completely distracted by Brady. I’m so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Sleep finally tugs at my fried brain. I don’t know what time it is, but I let it take me away. I can’t think any longer without losing my mind.

When morning comes, things don’t seem as bad. My dreams were surprisingly calm. I feel a little better, and I decide maybe I can go to school, almost convince myself it’s fine that Seth can see me. What’s the big deal? He obviously likes what he sees. And even if he did lie, I know him well enough to understand that he thought he was doing the best thing. Maybe it was—if I knew he could see me from the start, then I’d never know if I liked him because of that or because of
him
.

I wish I could deny it, but I still like him. As annoying and stupid and messed up as he can be, I do.

I manage to get in the shower, even with the tingles of fear and doubt. But that’s when it all comes crashing down. I scrub my armpits like usual. Except everything is different because I realize Seth can
see
the hair under my arms. The hair on my legs! I panic.

Should I shave? No. Not only would I cut myself like every other time I tried, but he’d
see
that I shaved. And he’d know the only reason was because he could see me, which is so lame and vain. I consider wearing pants and a long-sleeved shirt, but then I’d sweat up a storm and he’d see that! I practically collapse when I realize he’s seen every sweaty, hairy, unclothed moment since I met him.

By the time I dry off, I’ve changed my mind. There’s no way I’m going to school. What if I have a pimple or my hair is a disaster or my teeth are the color of egg yolk? I can’t see him. I can’t see everyone else because they’ll definitely know what happened. So I throw on a tracksuit, socks, gloves, and a hat just to feel covered. Then I crawl back in bed, ignoring the gnawing in my stomach, which is made stronger by the fact that I’m starving. But the thought of eating makes me sick.

I don’t know how long it’s been when Mom knocks on my door. “Fiona? You okay?”

“No. I’m sick.” My voice sounds terrible, dry from not drinking anything since yesterday.

The door clicks open, and her weight makes my bed creak. “Do you need me to get you anything?”

I pause, wondering what she’s up to. I glance up to find her blotchy, tired face, but it’s strangely clear of her typical glazed-over expression. She’s not faking this—I can tell she is genuinely worried. Something has changed. She isn’t the mother she was in Las Vegas.

“Sweetie?” She puts her hand on my shoulder, and I stop breathing. She rarely touches me, and for a second I consider telling her everything. But I can’t. She’ll be excited; she’ll force me to talk to Seth so
she
can know what I look like. I don’t want her to know after all the times she said it was okay that I would never be seen. “Should I call a doctor?”

“No. But maybe some juice?”

“Okay.” She rubs my shoulder gently. “Just rest.”

She’s back with juice and a box of Pop-Tarts in minutes. She doesn’t say anything else, like she knows I’m too “sick” to talk. When she leaves, I sit up and chug the juice. It doesn’t sit well in my empty stomach. I lie back down and hope it’ll stay put. Throwing up would just add insult to injury.

I only get out of bed to pee. The rest of the day my brain replays everything that’s happened with Seth in the past couple months. The more it plays, the stupider I feel until all I comprehend is my complete idiocy.

I could leave right now and never have to face Seth again. He’d get over me for sure, and in time I’d forget, too. Then I’d never have to know if I have a lazy eye or ears that stick out too much. I could just keep being whatever I wish I were, instead of what I am. I could forget everything that happened here. Forget this stupid person that I am.

Starting over would be easier. I’m invisible. I can be whoever I want. Why in the world would I want to be myself?

The garage door slams, and I can hear Mom’s car keys clank on the counter. Then her footsteps pound the stairs. She leans on the doorjamb. “Feeling any better?”

I sit up, taking a deep breath. I know once I say it, it’ll all be over. But I’m ready. “Yeah. I want to leave.”

She tilts her head. “What?”

“Let’s move again.”

Mom lets out a small gasp. She sits on the end of the bed, staring at the beanie I’m wearing. “Did something happen?”

Yes. I can’t face the boy who can see me.
“I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to leave. You don’t even have to come. You can go back to Dad if you want.”

She looks at her hands, picking at the clay under her nails. You’d think she’d stay clean with her ability, but it’s always like that when she gets in her creative moods. She says she likes to “dig in” and feel the medium. “Fiona, I don’t think you understand. I’m never going back.”

Now I’m the shocked one. “Look, I get that you were doing this for me all these years, this whole trying to escape thing. Thanks, but I don’t like this place. It sucks. So you don’t have to pretend you want to be here anymore, okay?”