Pushing the Limits - McGarry Katie - Страница 31
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My mom. My crazy, crazy mother. “When she was on, my mother was on. You know?”
“No. Explain.”
My foot began to rock. “She … um … I don’t know.”
“What do you mean by your mom being on?”
My mouth dried out as if I hadn’t drunk in days. I really hated talking about her. “I realize now that my favorite moments with my mom were her manic episodes. It kind of stinks because now the only good memories I have are tainted. The way she smiled at me made me feel so important. She painted the constellations on my ceiling with glow-in-the-dark paint. We’d lie in bed and she’d tell me the stories over and over again. Some nights she’d shake me to keep me awake.”
Mrs. Collins tapped her pen against her chin. “Constellations, huh? Think you could still pick them out?”
I shrugged, shifting in my seat. My foot clicked repeatedly against the floor. What temperature did she have the room set at? Ninety? “I guess. I haven’t looked at the stars in a while.”
“Why not?” Mrs. Collins’s demeanor changed from friendly Labrador to pure business.
Sweat crept along the back of my neck. I twisted my hair in a bun and held it up. “Um … I don’t know. Cloudy? I don’t go out at night very often?”
“Really?” she asked dryly.
Anger flashed in my bloodstream. I wished lasers would shoot out of my eyes. “I lost interest, I guess.”
“I want to show you some pictures that may trigger a memory. As long as that’s okay with you, Echo?”
Um … not really, but how could I say no? I nodded.
“Your art teacher gave me these smaller paintings you did your sophomore year. I could be wrong, but I believe they’re constellations.”
Mrs. Collins held up the first one. A first-grader could name it. “The little dipper, but in Greek mythology it would be Ursa Minor.”
The next painting was familiar to me, but maybe not to others. “Aquarius.”
The third one stumped me for one second. My mind wavered in that gray hazy area I detested. I snatched out the answer before the black hole could swallow it. Dizziness disoriented me, allowing me only to whisper, “Andromeda.”
My heart pounded and I let go of my hair to wipe the perspiration forming on my forehead. Nausea rolled in my stomach and up my throat. Good God, I was going to puke.
“Echo, breathe through your nose and try to lower your head.”
I barely heard Mrs. Collins over the ringing in my ears. The black hole grew, threatening to swallow me. I couldn’t let it. “No.” It couldn’t grow. The black hole was already too large and this had happened once before. That time I almost lost my mind.
“No to what, Echo?” Why did she sound so far away?
I squeezed my hands against my head, as if the motion could physically stop me from falling into that dark chasm. A bright light ripped through the blackness and for a brief few seconds I saw my mother. She lay next to me on the floor of her living room. Red curly hair falling from a gold clip. Her eyes wide—too wide. My heart raced faster. She reached toward me, whispering the words, “And Perseus saved Andromeda from her death. Aires was our Perseus. We’ll be with him soon.”
Raw fear—nerve-breaking, horror movie, chain-saw-carrying fear—pushed adrenaline through my body. “No!” I yelled, shoving my hands out to stop her from touching me.
“Echo! Open your eyes!” Mrs. Collins shouted, her warm breath hitting my face.
Every inch of me trembled and I reached out to steady myself, only to be caught by Mrs. Collins. I blinked rapidly and shook my head. This couldn’t be happening again. I had no memory of standing. Several of the stacks of files perched on the edge of her desk now cluttered the floor. I swallowed quickly to ease my dry mouth and calm my nerves. “I’m sorry.”
Mrs. Collins swept my hair away from my face, her expression a mixture of delighted and compassionate. If she had a tail, she would have wagged it. “Don’t be. You experienced a memory, didn’t you?”
I don’t know. Did I? I clutched Mrs. Collins’s arms. “She was telling me the story of Andromeda and Perseus.”
She took a deep breath, nodded and helped lower me to the floor, next to all the overturned files. “Yes. She did.”
The heat that had overwhelmed me earlier retreated, only to be replaced with cold and clammy goose bumps and uncontrollable shivering. Mrs. Collins handed me an unopened Diet Coke before returning to her desk. “Drink. The caffeine will help. I think we’ve done enough for today. In fact, I think you should probably go home. Your choice, of course.”
I stared at the bottle, unsure I had enough strength to open the cap. “Why was she telling me stories? And why did she say we’d be with Aires soon? Did she forget he was dead?”
Mrs. Collins crouched in front of me. “Stop. You’ve had a huge breakthrough and you need to let your mind and your emotions rest. Echo?”
She waited until she had my full attention. “You didn’t lose your mind.”
I sucked in a breath. I hadn’t. I’d remembered something and I hadn’t lost my mind. Hope swelled within me. Maybe it was possible. Maybe I could remember and stay in one piece.
“Now, tell me, home or school?”
The Diet Coke shook in my hand. “I’m not sure I can do school.”
She gave me a soft smile. “All right. Is it okay if I step out and call your father and Ashley to tell them what happened and that you’re coming home?”
“Sure.”
“By the way,” she said, “I’m proud of you.”
Mrs. Collins shut the door behind her. Thank God. The last thing I needed was anyone in the office seeing me shaking like a leaf on her floor surrounded by a mess of files. Files. Files!
I scanned the floor and within seconds spotted Noah’s, but mine sat there on her desk—open. It was there—every moment, every secret, every answer. Noah’s first. But my eyes drifted back to mine. The need to fill the black hole pressed upon me. But Noah needed small things—fast things—last name, address, phone numbers, and … I’d yelled at him. His first, then mine.
Crawling on my hands and knees, I snatched his file and quickly scanned the pages, searching for any trace of the names Jacob and Tyler. The first page—nothing. Second page—nothing. Third, fourth, fifth. I stared at my file. God, I was running out of time. Sixth page, seventh, eight. Ninth—Tyler and Jacob Hutchins. Placed in foster care by the state of Kentucky after the death of their parents. Currently placed with Carrie and Joe …
The door clicked open and I threw the file to the floor. “Echo, are you okay?”
I sat back on my knees. “I tried to get up, but got a little dizzy.” I blinked three times in a row.
She rushed over to me, concern ravaging her tone. “I am so sorry. Am I the worst therapist on the planet or what? Leaving you in here as weak as a kitten. Your father would have my license for sure.” Mrs. Collins helped me to my feet. “Let’s get you to the nurse’s office and let you lie down for a while. The bed in there should be more comfortable than the floor.”
“NOAH!” HE IGNORED ME THE first time I yelled his name. The nurse had finally released me with only ten minutes left of lunch. When I entered the cafeteria, he, Isaiah and Beth pitched their trash and left.
He may not have heard me call to him in the cafeteria, but I knew for sure he heard me in the hallway. I barely had the energy to run after him as the three of them headed to the lockers on the lower level. Clutching the railing for support, I dragged myself down the stairs. “Noah, please.”
They kept walking, but he glanced quickly over his shoulder then stopped dead in his tracks. He dropped his books and doubled back toward me, catching me as I stumbled down the last step. “What happened? You look like hell.”
Weak kitten? Try comatose jellyfish. My legs gave and Noah helped me sink to the floor. He sat beside me, one strong hand stroking my face. “You’re scaring the shit out of me.”
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