I stopped by the kitchen and raided the fridge. Leftover chicken, tangy vegetable salad, and a big slice of blueberry pie. Yummm …
When I returned to my room — surprise! The flat-screen TV, computer, and phone were back. Was Leah forgiven for her past bad behavior, or being rewarded for future favors?
The phone blinked with the number “2,” so I pushed on the “collect messages” button and crossed my fingers, hoping the calls were from Eli or Dustin. No such luck.
“Leah, you there?” came Jessica’s voice. “I tried your cell phone but it’s still not picking up. What happened to you? Why did you go off with Chad’s brother? Chad was so pissed he hardly said a word during dinner. Call me.”
The second message was also from Jessica.
“Leah, it’s late and I’m worried about you. If you don’t call soon I’ll try your parents.”
Oh, crap. Just what I didn’t need tonight!
Then I panicked because I didn’t know Jessica’s number. And twenty-three minutes had already passed since she’d left the message. If I didn’t contact her soon, she might call Leah’s parents and say that I’d left her party. Fortunately, the phone had a call-back feature. With heavy relief, I dialed Jessica’s number.
She answered on one ring, peppering me with questions.
Where were you? Are you in love with Chad’s brother? Why didn’t you come back for dinner? Are we still best friends? Is Chad’s brother a good kisser?
I assured her we were still best friend and denied kissing Eli. To avoid answering the other questions, I asked her about the fundraiser — but I didn’t like her answer.
She really was going to have a canned-food-drive memorial service for “that poor Amber Borden.” How was I supposed to respond to that? I considered telling her the truth — that no one would attend, not even Dustin and Alyce. Alyce would be insulted about the whole canned-food thing, and Dustin shunned school events.
If I wasn’t already presumed dead, I’d die of humiliation.
While I was reeling with all of this, Jessica asked me the most outrageous question ever spoken in all of human existence. A bad situation squared by a worse situation:
“Will you come to Amber’s memorial?” she asked.
Forget. It.
I invented an excuse about a doctor appointment on Friday. Jessica begged me to postpone it, but I refused.
Then I called Dustin and clued him in.
“You’re joking,” he said.
“I wish I was.”
“I can just imagine Jessica announcing over the loudspeaker, ‘May she rest in peace and please be sure to drop off your canned food.’ That’s sick.”
“Jessica thinks it’s brilliant. And she’s sure the whole school will come to say good-bye to me. I’m sure only a few teachers will show up. You and Alyce are my best friends, and you won’t be there.”
“What makes you think that? I can’t speak for Alyce — especially since she isn’t speaking to anyone lately — but I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Don’t you dare go!”
“How can I resist?” He chuckled. “Should I bring a can of soup, chili, or fruit cocktail?”
“Not funny. I can’t even guess how my parents will react when they find out about the memorial.”
“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.” His tone changed instantly. “Yeah, that would be rough on them, especially when they’re planning their own … well anyway, I see your point. Sorry for being an insensitive jerk.”
“You’re not a jerk, and only marginally insensitive.”
“It’s hard to mourn you when I’m talking to you. But I know this sucks for your family. I don’t know how to stop them from finding out about the memorial. Damn, you really have to tell them the truth.”
“When I’m free of Leah’s family, I’ll make my parents listen and prove who I am.” I sighed. “But I don’t know how long that will take. Leah’s father may not let her go even when she turns eighteen — whenever that is. Isn’t that sad? I don’t even know her birthday.”
“July fourteenth.”
“How do you know?” I asked, surprised.
“From surfing online about the Montgomerys. I’ve found interesting stuff. Rumors about a shifty connection to a congressman named Donatello. Ever hear of him?”
I didn’t answer right away, ashamed to admit about the dance. “I’ve heard a little.”
“Nothing good, I bet. He acts like he’s a respectable family man, but he was accused of beating up a hooker. He denies everything of course. If he shows up, stay away.”
I nodded silently.
Then I changed the subject, asking Dustin about his latest campaigns. He launched into the political buzz about who-did-what, etc. I admired his zeal for justice, even if I wasn’t sure about his methods — like the “fake official” website he was creating to expose the use of illegal chemicals by a supposedly organic nursery.
Even though we were talking about flowers, the word “nursery” reminded me of the weekend I helped paint the triplets’ nursery canary yellow. Mom was on bed rest by then, so Dad and I tackled the walls, splattering yellow paint all over ourselves. When Mom saw us, she laughed so hard we were afraid she’d go into early labor.
That evening, as I changed into Leah’s nightgown, I was still thinking of the family I missed and wondered if they were thinking of me, too. I crawled under Leah’s silky sheets and drifted into a sleep … dreaming of yellow paint and laughter.
* * *
Another day, another daily schedule.
Only this time when Angie handed me the printed sheet, she didn’t scowl. And when I thanked her, she even said, “You’re welcome.” No feet stomping or door slamming. Not exactly the road to BFF status but hey it was a start.
I stared helplessly in the mirror at my tragic case of bed head. Without Jessica’s help, I didn’t know how to style my hair. So I twisted the blonde tangles into a braid and flipped it out of the way. Then I tossed on the most comfortable jeans and shirt I could find and headed for breakfast.
Mrs. Montgomery sat alone in the dining room by a large picture window with the shades closed. She wore a lavender robe and stared at nothing. She was turned away from the table, with one arm leaning on the glass-top table and her fingers curling around a wine glass.
I stared down at the ruby liquid shimmering in the glass, disappointed.
She must have heard my footsteps, because she turned her head toward me. A myriad of emotions played across her face: surprise, worry, shame.
“It’s not what it looks like,” she said, pushing the glass away.
“You don’t owe me any explanations.” I really didn’t know what else to say. I hardly knew her and was likely to say something completely wrong. Retreat was the safest option. “I’ll just get some cereal and go back to my room.”
“Don’t go.” Her hand shot out to gently touch my wrist. “We should talk … about many things. We don’t do enough talking.”
“Because you do too much of that.” I gestured to the wine glass. Immediately I covered my mouth, shocked at my rudeness. “I’m sorry … I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay. I appreciate your honesty, and admit I’ve had serious issues.” She stared down at the glass with hate and longing. “After last night, I couldn’t sleep and finally came down here at four in the morning.”
I frowned at the faint bruise on her cheek, knowing exactly what had upset her last night.
“It’s all so overwhelming,” she said with a heavy sigh. “You can’t know … how I feel … like everything is out of control and I can’t find the right direction to turn. I’ve screwed up so many times, so why even bother to try? I just couldn’t take it anymore and was going to quit my meetings. I poured this glass and … well, nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“I never took a drink.”
“You’ve been sitting here since four in the morning?”
“Staring at a glass.” She laughed bitterly. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
“Not really. You’re stronger than you know. You can beat this — I know you can.”
“You always say that.”
“I do?” I asked, surprised.
“Many, many times. But I’ve never believed you … and somewhere along the way I know you stopped believing in me, too.” She sighed. “All I can say is, I’m sorry. I’m a lousy mother.”
“At least you try. Your glass is still full.”
“That’s right — it is.” Her smile hinted at sadness and pride as she stood swiftly and picked up the glass. I tensed for a moment, afraid she’d drink it. But she marched into the kitchen and dumped the entire glass into the sink.
I followed her and applauded. “Go, Mom.”
“Yeah, I’m going all right — going to call my friend in AA and talk about what almost happened.” She turned toward a granite counter. “Thanks for your support, Leah. It means more than you’ll ever know.”
She held her head high as she crossed the room to pick up a cordless phone. I had an impulse to wrap my arms around her and hug … as if she were really my mother.
Ridiculous! I told myself as I watched her leave. There was only one “Mom” for me, and even if I had to stay in this body forever, Mom would always be the slightly overweight, always over-worked, mother of four daughters.
Yet I seemed to care for Leah’s Mom, too — confusing!
What kind of freaky phenomenon was going on here? Did Leah’s body have its own memories? Would they gradually replace mine? No, I couldn’t let that happen. I refused to forget who I was. Identity was deeper than skin, somewhere trapped in between.
So why did my heart ache for Mrs. Montgomery? This feeling was stronger than an intense craving for chocolate. Perhaps it was similar to Mrs. Montgomery’s longing when she stared down at the ruby-red liquid.
Weird thoughts, I told myself. Get over it, Amber!
With resolve, I opened a kitchen cupboard.
And poured cereal.
* * *
By the afternoon, I’d finished my workouts and spent a few hours watching soaps with Luis. He filled me in on the plotlines while I munched on his delicious homemade cheesy popcorn. When Angie came by, she shot us a disgusted look. But all she asked was if I’d done my exercises and homework. Wow — she was acting almost friendly.
When the soaps ended, Luis went outside for gardening chores and I returned to my room. I tried to figure out Leah’s password to her computer, but couldn’t. If I could read through her emails it would help to know her better, save me from any embarrassing mistakes.
Once school was over, my phone started ringing — Jessica, Chad, Kat and Eli. I let the machine pick up for the first three, but when I saw Eli’s name on the caller ID, I couldn’t grab the phone fast enough. We talked, nothing serious, just casual stuff that seemed more interesting when shared with Eli. I had to admit, even to myself, that I was falling for him. How could Leah have preferred Chad?
After I hung up, I sat on Leah’s bed and thought about my day. Strange, surreal, almost enjoyable. I was starting to feel comfortable in this skin. When I stared at myself in the mirror, I wasn’t only looking at Leah or at Amber, but at a blend of the two of us.
AmberLeah.
A knock on my door startled me out of my thoughts.
“Leah, are you busy?” Mr. Montgomery asked as he opened my door.
“Uh … not really,” I said, sitting up straight and clasping a small pillow on my lap. “What do you want?”
He draped his arm on my computer chair. “I just had an enlightening talk with your friend.”
My heart skipped a few beats. “Who?”
“Jessica Bradley. She said that you seemed to be avoiding her calls today,” he added, with a disapproving glance at the phone on my desk.
“I’ve been busy doing homework,” I lied.
“Is it done?”
I nodded.
“Excellent,” he said with a nod. “I’m pleased by how well you’ve recovered. So pleased that I’m returning these.”
A set of keys dangled from his fingers.
“My car keys!” I rejoiced, taking the keys. I could almost smell my freedom, and couldn’t wait to tell Eli and Dustin I had wheels to go wherever I wanted.
“You deserve them,” he told me. “Jessica told me how you helped come up with the fundraiser plans, so I figured you’d need your car. You aren’t expected back in classes till Monday, but there’s no reason you can’t help Jessica.”
“Help Jessica do what?” The sharp end of a key stabbed my palm.
“I’ll make an exception for such a worthwhile endeavor. I told Jessica you could go, and that I’d be happy to donate cases of canned food.” Smiling, he gave my braid a light tug. “Have fun — at the fundraiser.”