Beyond Vica (3 page)

“Sam's going to the dance?” Brody walks with me to English class. I haven't talked with him face to face since my acrobatics off the roof. He sent me several text messages to see if I was okay, though.

“Yeah, he wants to go. I'm going to be his date.” I look up to see Brody's clear gray eyes set on my face.

“That is so cool.” His dimples deepen as he smiles.

“Yeah, it is,” I agree and return a smile. “Maybe I can find a dress to match my lovely cast.” I wave my purple cast in the air.

Brody pulls a pen from his binder and takes a hold of my arm. “Let me sign it.”

I stop walking and surrender my arm. His dark hair falls forward while he dips his head to write on my cast. His hair looks so soft. I have a sudden urge to touch it. I'm a little stunned at my thought and glad he can't read my mind. My cheeks warm.

“There.” Brody holds the pen in his teeth and puts the cap back on. “All the talk about Vica reminded me of our made-up symbol. Remember when we used to sign our names with it?”

I inspect the signature.
Try not to fall of off any more roofs. Brody ~V~

“Ha!” I give him a shove with my good arm. “Remember when we used to draw our Vica symbol on our arms and pretend we had tattoos?”

Brody laughs. “We were cool, weren't we?”

“Brody! Wait up,” a female voice interrupts. We both turn to see red hair bounding toward us. It's Kara. “I want to ask you something,” she informs Brody as she catches up to us.

I remember what she said in the girls' locker room about asking Brody to the dance. I feel a jab of something in my stomach. It feels like…jealousy.
No way.
I push the thought aside and don't stick around to listen. I take off down the hall toward English class.

In my rush to get away, I smack right into an open locker. Its metal door vibrates from the impact of my head. “Ouch!” I rub my forehead and look into the irritated face of the locker's owner. He glares at me with his blue eyes. An eyebrow ring protrudes from his left blond brow.

“Um, sorry,” I mumble. Why am I sorry? I got the worst of the collision. What's his problem?

I make it the rest of the way to English safely. Brody slips into the seat in front of me and turns around.

His eyes widen as he sees me. “What happened to your head?”

Instinctively, my fingers run across my forehead and reach a knot. Great. “I had a fight with an open locker,” I say. At that moment, the owner of the ninja locker strolls into English class. He takes one look at me and rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Locker Boy. You have issues,” I say just loud enough for Brody to hear.

My eyes shift back to Brody, who's laughing. “Give me your cast again. I need to add, ‘Stay away from locker doors.'”

“Shut up.” I nudge his arm.

“We're going to have a free writing day. Write about anything on your mind. If you feel like writing a story, write one. If you feel like writing poems, do it. You must be writing, though. Get out your laptops, please,” Mrs. Smith announces and takes a sip of coffee from a mug that reads You Can't Scare Me, I'm a Teacher.

While my computer boots up, I tear out a piece of paper from my binder and write,
What did Kara want?
I slide it to Brody.

My heart races while I wait for his answer. I wonder if an alien has invaded my body. My reactions to Brody aren't normal. This jealousy thing and wanting to touch his hair is foreign to me. I've never thought of him or Sam as anything other than my buds.

However, in sixth grade Sam and I once kissed each other on a dare during outdoor education. We snuck into the dark shadow of a tree and kissed. It felt like kissing a relative. It was so awkward that we agreed we would never try that again.

Brody slips the paper back on my desk. My heart jumps as I unfold the paper.
She wanted me to go to the dance but I said no.
A momentary feeling of relief ran through me and then I read further.
I already told Rachel that I would go with her.

Ugh! All right, I need to stop it. Brody's allowed to go to the dance with someone. After all, I'm going with Sam.

Time to focus on my writing. A clanking sound catches my attention. My eyes wander from the blank screen of my laptop to see Jamie, the new girl, in the front row. Her bracelets clatter on the keyboard as she types. She's so mysterious, staying to herself. I wonder what she did, if anything, to get kicked out of her last school.

My eyes drift down to my purple cast. I look at the Vica symbol and know exactly what I'm going to write about.

My fingers fly across the keyboard. I write about a place where there is no more sickness, no more hurt or death. A place where children don't lose their parents before they have a chance to know them. A place where young people can live out their dreams into adulthood. Vica is the gate to this wonderful place. You can pass through its upside down 'V' and enter. A tear travels down my cheek as I write about this imaginary land beyond Vica.

The doctors are confident that Sam's cancer is under control but aren't saying it's in remission. He feels stronger and determined to go. The news spreads through the freshman class that Sam is going to the dance. I can't even walk through the hall without someone asking me about it. Everyone seems excited to see him.

I'm at the mall with my mom trying to find a dress. I can't have anything too short or too low-cut. Mom's idea of a nice dress looks like something I would've worn to church on Easter Sunday as a little girl. So when she says I should find something green to “accent my eyes,” I grab the nearest purple dress and head to the dressing room.

My reflection in the mirror reminds me of a song I learned when I was little: "The Purple People Eater." The knot on my head has not only swollen in size, it has turned an ugly shade of purple. The thing is so huge it could probably have its own social network following: hashtag Gabby's horn.

To make things worse, the purple dress I grabbed to try on is strapless. My purple cast looks as if it swallowed my arm and is threatening to work its way up to my shoulder. I need a new plan.

With my mom's help, I decide on a pale green dress that “complements my eyes.” The dress has thick straps that shimmer with sequins. I'm glad I have another week for the swelling of my horn to go down.

****

“You look amazing.” I run my eyes over Sam when he reaches the bottom of the staircase. A light-green tie hangs down the front of his white dress shirt. He has on black dress pants and a cool white fedora with a black ribbon around the brim.

He bows and does a Michael Jackson spin. “Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself.” He lifts my arm in the air and spins me around in his living room.

“Thank you,” I flutter my eyelashes and pucker my lips. Earlier in the day, my mom paid for me to get my hair done and get a mani-pedi. My sandy brown hair is partly pinned up with curls that dangle on each side of my face. Mom was right about the dress bringing the green out in my eyes. My knot has shrunk and is now a yellowish color that I covered up almost completely with makeup.

“All right, you two. In front of the fireplace. We want pictures.” My mom waves us toward the stone fireplace. “Don't they look adorable, Marie?”

“They sure do,” Sam's mom agrees. Her eyes glitter.

I roll my eyes. “Mom, I stopped being adorable in kindergarten.”

“You'll always be adorable to me, sweetheart.” Mom snaps a picture, followed by another snap from Marie's camera. Spots float across the room as I try to adjust my eyes from the assault of the flashes.

“Mom, we need to go,” Sam pleads.

“Okay. Just one more picture. Julie, will you take a picture of Sam and me?” Marie hands my mom her camera.

“Sure.” My mom accepts the camera. Sam places his arm around Marie's shoulder. She slips her arm around his waist. He's an inch taller than his mom. Although his features are dark like his dad's, there is no denying Marie is his mother. Their lips curve the exact same way when they smile.

*****

I feel the vibration of the music as Sam and I walk arm in arm up the sidewalk toward the gym doors. Sam lets his arm fall just before we reach the entrance. He finds my hand, and joins our fingers. I look up at him and smile. His eyes are locked on mine. “If I forget to tell you later, thanks for being the best friend anyone could ask for,” he says.

My throat is so swollen with emotion that I can't speak. I nod, lift my face to his, and brush a kiss over his cheek. I rest my forehead against his shoulder, not speaking. I wish I could capture this moment in a glass jar and hold onto it. I'd keep it on the shelf in my room with my basketball trophies and treasure it forever. He rubs his hands over my shoulders.

“Here they are! Brody, over here!” Rachel shrieks, racing out the gym doors. Tight curls layer her long blond hair. Brody follows her. He stops and looks from me to Sam before he speaks. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” I clear the lump from my throat and smile. “Doesn't Sam look great?”

“Bro! Look at you,” Brody agrees and looks him over. They fist-bump.

“Oh, you two look so sweet!” Rachel hugs Sam and grabs my hand like we're her best friends. She tugs my hand. “Come on! Everybody has been waiting."

“Waiting for what?” I ask and plead to Brody with my eyes to save me from his date. He just shrugs and smiles.

“Our spring dance king and queen have just arrived,” announces the DJ as we enter the gym. I look around.
Does he mean Rachel and Brody?
“Give it up for Sam Johnson and Gabby Martin.”

Oh, crap.

Applause erupts. Before I can process what is happening, Sam and I are rushed up front and a tiara is placed on my head. A blinding light shines in my face. I raise my hand and attempt to block its assault on my eyes.

Rachel is squealing with delight beside me. Her voice radiates through the gym. “I have an announcement to make.” Where did she get a microphone? I feel as if I've been ambushed.

She continues, “All the money raised from the dance tonight is being donated to Sam and his family.” She jumps up and down. Seriously? I have the sudden urge to whack her with my cast to calm her down.

The whole gym roars with applause and chants of “We love you, Sam.” I manage to get a glimpse of Sam's face even though the light hasn't let up its attack on my eyes. His smile is so wide that it touches his eyes. It also touches my heart.

Chants of “Dance! Dance! Dance!” fill the gym now. Sam and I are ushered to the center of the gym floor with the crowd surrounding us. The DJ plays a slow song. Sam pulls me close and I raise my good arm over his shoulder and rest my injured arm on his chest. We sway to the music. I scan the faces watching us. There isn't one person who doesn't have a smile. I take that back. My eyes rest on Brody. His expression is very serious, his eyes rimmed in red. They don't leave mine. We lock eyes for long time and then a new song starts.

We are no longer the only two dancing. Couples surround us are slow-dancing, including Rachel and Brody.

I keep focused on Sam. He's having such good time. “I feel like I'm with a celebrity,” I remark, gazing into his face. His grin grows. I don't know that I've ever seen him so happy.

“Is it okay if I dance with Sam?” Rachel shouts at me above the music. She hangs onto Brody and leans toward me so I can hear her.

“Umm, sure,” I mutter and drop my hands. I watch her fasten her arms around Sam's neck. She's telling him something, but I can't hear over the music. Sam nods his head at whatever she's saying.

“Gabs!” Brody's voice is right in my ear, causing me to jump.

“What?” I screech. He's laughing at me. I'm glad I amuse him so much.

“You are so jumpy. Do you want to dance?” He takes my hand and pulls me close, not waiting for answer.

I breathe in the woodsy smell of his cologne. His skin color reminds me of the soft caramels my mom makes at Christmas. It's so wrong to be crushing on one of your best friends. What's wrong with me? I need a distraction.

“Sam is so happy tonight,” I say in his ear.

“Yeah, I got choked up earlier watching him.” His comment warms my heart, and then he says, “It was all Rachel's idea to arrange the money thing. She talked to the upperclassmen, since the money raised usually goes to a charity of the senior class members' choice. She thought it would be nice to for Sam's family to have it to help with medical expenses or whatever.”

My body tenses. I don't trust her. Is she being nice to Sam or using him to get at Brody? Brody must have felt my body stiffen because he asks me if something is wrong.

I'm ready to unleash my feelings about Rachel when I'm bumped from behind and fall into Brody. I turn around to see Locker Boy. His eyes widen when he realizes it's me he bumped into. He rushes away like I'm going to attack him or something.

“I don't get what Locker Boy's problem is,” I hiss. Brody looks down at me with a huge grin on his face that pops his dimples. I have to hold myself back from touching them.

“He's been afraid of you since we were in fourth grade,” he says matter-of-factly, as if I should know this.

I draw my eyebrows together. I thought he just moved in this year. “Fourth grade?”

“Yeah, don't you remember? He was making fun of Sam, calling him Space Alien because Sam spent so much time reading books about space and the stars. You found out and stuck a sign on his back that said, ‘I eat boogers
.'
He wore it most of the day before one of the teachers saw it and took it off.”

My mouth drops open. “That's Tyler Brown? It doesn't even look like him.”

Brody chuckles. “You told him that was just the beginning of what you had planned for him if he didn't lay off Sam.”

“No way! No wonder he freaked when I ran into his locker.”

“Nobody can mess with your Sam.” Brody shakes his head then looks down at me with a sideways grin. “You looked like you wanted to claw out Rachel's eyes a minute ago. She's not going eat Sam. She just wants to ask him what student council could do to help when he returns to school, since she's president.”

“I did not look like I wanted to claw her eyes out!” Okay, I did think about it, but I had no idea that it showed. What he said bothers me. “I don't act like Sam is mine,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

Brody laughs. “Yeah. Okay. Keep telling yourself that, Gabs.”

I shove off of his chest and step back. He ticked me off. He's still grinning at me, which ticks me off even more. I open my mouth to tell him to go to…somewhere, when Rachel swoops in and steals him away to join the line that forms to do the cupid dance.

Sam finds me and takes my hand. “Let's get something to drink.” My throat is so dry that I gladly follow him to the punch. Sam hands me a cup. We both sit down on white folding chairs lining the gym floor. I gulp down the red liquid and look at Sam. His eyes are on the dance floor. I need to ask him something before I lose the nerve.

I take a deep breath and blurt it out. “Do you ever feel like I'm too controlling?”

Sam's eyes shift from the dancers to me. His eyebrows crease. “What do you mean?”

I lick my lips, which are suddenly dry again. “Do you think I act like…you're mine?”

“Sometimes.” He shrugs. My heart sinks. “You're like an overprotective sister.”

I hang my head, unable to look at him. I never thought much about it before now, but there was something in the way Brody talked tonight. Like it was common knowledge that Sam was “mine.”

Sam's fingers lift my chin. He looks right into my face. “It's okay, Gabs. That's how we are. Brother and sister. We look out for each other.” He scoots his chair closer to mine and puts his arm is around me. I rest my head on his shoulder. My eyes take in all the dancers and come to rest on just one: Brody. I let out a sigh. He was right about me with Sam. I'll never admit it to him, though.

“The next song is a special request. It's by Lee Ann Womack, ‘I Hope You Dance,'” the DJ announces. The words of the song begin, and I feel like the room is closing in on me. I've got to get out of here before the memories come.

“I gotta go the bathroom.” I don't wait for Sam to answer, and I take off. But I don't go to the restroom. I slip out of the gym and into the hallway.

I press my back against a locker, squeeze my eyes shut, and try to stop the memory that threatens to crash down on me. It's no use. The music is so loud it follows me into the hall. I'm helpless to stop it. The trigger has been pulled.

Daddy's head rested on the steering wheel. He wasn't moving. My heart beat fast. It was so scary when the car spun around. The spinning finally stopped when the car hit a tree. I undid my seatbelt and crawled into the front seat. Daddy's eyes were open. Why wasn't he talking? I tried to shake him. “Daddy!” He didn't answer. There was a lot of blood on his head. I put my arm around his shoulder and lay my head on his back. I sang our song. “I hope you dance…”

I feel someone touch my arm. My eyes fly open. It's Brody. His eyebrows are drawn together as he studies my face. “Are you okay?” His voice is soft.

My heart hammers in my chest. I swallow hard and nod.

“What happened? I saw you leave the gym. You looked upset. You know I was just teasing you about Sam.” He searches my face.

“It's not that.” I shake my head. The thing is, I never talk about the car crash. I've never told anyone about it, not even my mom. She cried so much the year my dad died that I didn't want to hurt her any more. I can't talk to Sam about it. He doesn't need to deal with the memories that haunt me. I have held them inside so long. It's like they don't want to be ignored anymore.

“Gabs?” Brody runs his hand along my arm. “What is it?”

I let it pour out, helpless to stop it any longer. “My dad used to sing that song to me. He said that it was our song.”

“Oh.” Brody continues to rub my arm not taking his eyes from mine. “I'm sorry.”

I shake my head. “That's not all. After the crash, I crawled into the front seat and sang him that song. I didn't understand why he wouldn't talk to me when his eyes were open. I thought that if I sang our song, he would sing with me.” I wrap my arms around my middle and squeeze. I feel like if I don't hold myself together, I will crumble into a million pieces.

“Aww, man. That sucks.” He puts his arms around me and pulls me into his chest. I rest the side of my face on his chest, and l slip my hands around his waist. “I had no idea that happened,” he whispers and strokes my hair.

We don't move or say anything else for the next couple of minutes. It's just what I need. I concentrate on the rise and fall of his chest under my face. The rhythm of his heart beneath my ear soothes me, pulling me back together. Then I remember where I am and why I'm here.
Sam!
I pull back and look into his face. “I better get back before Sam gets worried.”

Brody is on my heels when we walk into the gym. He grasps my hand and gives it squeeze before he winks at me and is swept away by Rachel.