Invisible Page 10

  A loud knock startles me and for a moment I’m frozen in place. It takes half a breath to remember where I am.

  “Lola, you in there?” Dad calls.

  I jump to my feet and run to let him in.

  Strain and worry show on his face.

  “Why the hell didn’t you answer your phone?”

  “I was writing,” I say softly.

  He sighs and rubs his jaw. “Your grandmother’s wake is today. People will be arriving at the funeral home in less than an hour. Come on, let’s get you home so you can change.” He takes me by the arm.

  “No, wait.” I run back to the living room and gather up my belongings as well as the artwork and return with arms full.

  Dad takes the pictures and helps me adjust my satchel across my shoulders. “Ready?”

  “I’m ready to go, but I want to stay home.”

  He opens his mouth to protest, but I cut his words off. “I’ll go to the funeral tomorrow, but please, Dad, I’m not ready to see Gran in a coffin yet. Not today, okay?”

  “God damn it, Lola, your mom’s not going to be happy about this.”

  “I know and I’m sorry to be such a disappointment. I’ll be there tomorrow, okay?” There’s a quiver in my voice and my eyes are wet with tears.

  “Let’s get you home.” He takes my key and locks Gran’s door.

  * * * *

  Once home, I check my phone. There are thirty-three texts from Charlie. I decide it would be easier to phone her rather than text back.

  “Oh my God, are you okay? Why didn’t you return any of my messages?” she asks in a flurry.

  “I’m fine. I spent the day at Gran’s.”

  “Oh.” Her voice grows solemn. “My mom wants to know when visiting hours are for the wake.”

  “I’m not going to be there. The rest of my family is there now. I’m not sure when it’s over tonight.”

  There’s a long silence. Neither of us has been through anything like this before and it’s awkward and uncomfortable.

  “I’m going to the funeral tomorrow though, so I won’t be at school until Thursday,” I say finally. I think about asking if she’s seen Jon but I can’t go there yet, it’s raw and embarrassing. No matter the circumstances, I still stood him up.

  “I’ll tell my mother we should go tomorrow then.” There are tears in her voice.

  “Thanks, Char, you’re a great friend.”

  Charlie gives me a rundown of what I’ve missed in school and tells me she’s collected my homework from all my teachers and that she’ll bring it over later, after the funeral.

  “Thanks again,” I say.

  “No problem, Lola.” She pauses. “I love you.”

  Her words catch me off guard. “I… I love you too.”

  The connection goes dead.

  It’s time to type out my story and when I’m done, I print two copies; one for me and one for Gran. Then I fill out the online registration on my school’s website, attach the electronic file and hit send.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I’ve never seen a dead body.

  The casket is at the far end of the funeral parlor and I walk slowly, ominously, toward it. The overpowering scent of the flower-filled room makes me gag, yet I force air into my lungs to keep my heartbeat steady. I don’t know what I’m more afraid of, seeing Gran in a coffin or disappearing.

  Only close family are allowed in right now. Uncle Brian, his wife Maryanne and their boys Jimmy and Ryan are chatting with Mom and Dad. Gran’s last surviving sister, my great aunt Mary and her family sit solemnly in a corner sniffling and sobbing. This is our last chance to see Gran and say good-bye before we head to the church for the funeral mass.

  The gauze bandage is gone and my slightly scab-puckered tattoo is on display for the world to see. The scab will be gone in a day or two, but even in this state, I’m proud of it. It’s my lasting connection to Gran, along with the invisible cord of love that runs from her heart to mine.

  I’m holding a single red rose and a copy of my story that I’ve rolled up into a scroll and wrapped with a piece of purple satin, Gran’s favorite color. When I get to the casket, the tears I’d bravely fought to control, stream down my cheeks.

  Mom appears at my side and places a reassuring arm around my shoulders. “Let’s kneel and say a prayer for her,” she says.

  We kneel together on a well-used green velour stand, but I can’t pray, all I can do is stare. The woman in the coffin looks nothing like Gran. She looks like a wax figure. A small wave of relief floods me. It’s better this way. It’s better that it doesn’t look like Grandma Rose in the coffin. Maybe I’ll be able to fool myself into believing it’s not really her.

  The hair’s wrong. It’s too flat and old ladyish and they put blue eye shadow on her. She never wore blue eye shadow! I’m tempted to wipe it off. Gran would be so embarrassed. The outfit is fine, though. It reflects Gran’s personality perfectly. She’s wearing the navy blue dress she bought for her Cha Cha Cha on our last day together at the mall. It’s not flashy. It looks like something she might have worn to a wedding or a special evening out.

  I glance over to the foot of the coffin. I’d heard somewhere that’s where the dead person’s spirit stands during their funeral, so they can have a good look at who comes to pay their respects. I squint a little to try to catch a glimpse of Gran, but see nothing, not even a shimmering flicker of light. Then a thought strikes me… maybe she’s just disappeared, like she used to; like I do. Maybe that’s what dead really means – you’re not really gone, just living in another realm where you’re able to watch, but can’t be heard or seen. This notion gives me comfort and I choose to believe it. I like thinking Gran’s watching the entire goings on at her own funeral.

  Mom whispers “Amen” and pulls me to my feet with her. “Lola, did you want to put the rose in with Gran?”

  I pull my gaze from the foot of the casket to look at Mom. “Yes,” I say and gently place the rose over Gran’s folded hands, and then I tuck my rolled up story in beside her.

  Mom throws me a look of surprise.

  “It’s just a story I wrote,” I say quickly and turn away.

  * * * *

  After another fifteen minutes of hellish silent mourning, the funeral director finally opens the doors so the rest of the mourners can file in. Soon the room is full. There’s talking, and crying and kissing of cheeks. I find the farthest corner to meld into and flirt with the idea of making myself disappear.

  Then I see them, Charlie and Jon. I spot him first because he’s so tall. My heart leaps and bangs against my ribs and a flush runs from my feet upwards until I feel my face redden.

  Charlie scans the room and her eyes zone in on me like a laser beam. They both quickly head my way and stand in front of me like some sort of shield.

  “Calm down, you’re flickering,” Charlie says, placing a hand on my shoulder.

  I close my eyes and breathe deeply until my heartbeat slows. “Am I still here?” I whisper without opening my eyes.

  “Yeah, you look solid now,” Jon answers.

  They each take a seat on either side of me and I open my eyes.

  “I’m sorry about your Grandmother,” Jon says. He’s holding a small gift bag; light blue tissue paper blossoms from it.

  “I’m sorry I stood you up,” I reply.

  He waves a hand in the air. “Please, you have nothing to be sorry about. Charlie explained it all.”

  “My mom wanted me to let you know she came to pay her respects last night,” Charlie says, and then reaches in for a hug. “I’m so sorry about Grandma Rose.”

  “Thanks… for everything,” I say and she squeezes me tighter.

  “Let’s have a look at the ink.” She grabs my left hand, pushes up my sleeve and runs a finger gently across my still tender wrist. Jon leans in for a look too.

  “It’s a beautiful tribute,” Charlie says.

  “I think she’d be proud,” adds Jon. “Oh, by the way…” He slips a
hand into the pocket of his jeans. “Here.”

  He hands me a piece of paper.

  “It’s my number. We can keep in touch. Send me a text so I’ll have yours too.” Then he holds out the bag. “This is for you.”

  This brings a huge smile. I pull out the tissue and find a gorgeous dark brown leather-bound journal and a matching chocolate brown pen. The pen is heavy in my hand and it looks expensive.

  “Wow, they’re beautiful. I don’t know what to say.” I stare into his dark blue eyes until he looks away and gives an embarrassed smile. “It’s absolutely perfect. How did you know?”

  Jon eyes Charlie. “You’ve got a pretty good best friend there. She helped me pick them out. Besides, I see you writing all the time in English class.”

  “Thank you. I love them.” I place my hand on his.

  “I’m glad,” he says, with a dimpled smile.

  I just might be able to get through the rest of the day, after all.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  After the funeral mass, Gran was cremated. Mom told me it was her wish and no matter how I feel about it, we all must respect Gran’s last wishes. I can accept that, though I don’t like to think about it. The idea of Gran being all burned up threatens to bring on another anxiety attack. It looms heavy on the horizon of my thoughts. Thankfully we didn’t have to be there to witness it. The ashes will be presented to Mom and Uncle Brian in a few days. I’m not sure they know yet what to do with them.

  I’m glad to be back at school so I can think of other things besides losing Gran. Once in homeroom, I slide into my usual spot and Jon sits beside me instead of in front of me.

  “It’s okay, I asked Patty if she’d trade,” he explains.

  Patricia Seaver has sat next to me since the first day of class. Don’t know why, we’re not exactly friends and we never talk. She’s cheerleader material, skinny and flirty with a gleaming white-toothed smile and big blue eyes. I hate her because she makes me feel ugly. When Patty enters a moment later, she takes Jon’s spot without so much as batting an eye.

  Jon and I don’t have much opportunity to talk during class, but it is nice having him near. I can hardly concentrate on what Mrs. Wright is saying because I’m so conscious of his presence. From the corner of my eye, I notice his gaze flicker in my direction, and a little half smile forming on his lips. A boy likes me! It feels so friggin’ great.

  After class, Jon walks me to my locker. “I’ve got something I want to ask you,” he says, grinning.

  Anything that makes Jon’s dimples pop has to be good news. I smile back. “What is it?”

  He clears his throat and his eyes flicker briefly from the floor, back to me. “Will you go to the graduation dance with me?”

  It’s all I can do to keep my feet planted on the floor. An urge threatens to overtake me, to jump up and down and squeal with joy, but I reign in my enthusiasm, choosing to keep it under wraps for later. “I’d love to.” Suddenly, I love Mom for forcing me to get a dress.

  Jon’s still looking at me, his smile replaced by a more serious expression. He gently settles a hand on my cheek and kisses me; a sweet lingering kiss. His breath smells like peppermint and the familiar scent of his cologne engulfs me as I breathe him in. It’s my favorite scent in the world.

  Weak-kneed, I fall back against my locker.

  He catches my elbow. “I didn’t know my kisses had that much power,” he says with a laugh.

  I laugh too, to hide my embarrassment, but my cheeks burn, betraying me.

  “See you at lunch?”

  “By the oak tree,” I answer.

  He walks backwards down the hall, smiling and waving. I can’t wait ’til he’s out of sight so I can text Charlie. We’re not allowed to use cellphones during school hours. Getting caught would mean a confiscated phone until the final bell rings, so I pivot toward my open locker and type quickly.

  Jon asked me to the dance!  

  No way!  she replies almost instantly.

  And something else happened…

  Doooo tell.

  He kissed me!!!!!!!!!!!!!’

  OMG!!!! I’m really happy 4 u.     The happy faces let me know she really means it.

  All through my next class, I’m in dreamland. Not a single word the teacher says penetrates my brain. Jon’s kiss has ignited something in me I didn’t know existed. I’m going to start to eat healthier and maybe even work out. I want to be the best I can be. Not just for him, but for me.

  * * * *

  I’m the first to arrive at our lunch spot and Charlie comes running minutes later.

  “Oh my god, I’m so happy for you!”

  We do a little hop of joy and settle onto the ground looking around furtively to make sure there were no witnesses.

  “And the dance. He asked you to the dance?” she asks excitedly.

  I nod with furious abandon. Then realize Charlie will be dateless. “I’m sorry,” I say.

  She cocks her head and gives me a quizzical look. “What are you sorry for?”

  Now it’s awkward, but I say it nonetheless. “Because you don’t have a date.”

  A sly smile forms on her lips. “Who said I didn’t have a date?”

  “You have a date?” I slap her knee. “Why didn’t you tell me? Who is it?”

  “Uh-ah. I’ll never tell.” She wags a finger.

  “Really, you’re not going to tell me?” I choose my next words carefully. “Do I know this person?” I don’t say him or her because I’m still in the dark about Charlie’s preferences.

  “No, but you’ll meet at the dance. And that’s all I’m going to say about it, so don’t bother trying to get any more out of me.”

  Charlie points behind me. “Here comes your boyfriend.”

  “Hey,” says Jon, settling his lanky frame on the ground beside me.

  With that one word I can tell instantly something’s not right. Years of being hypersensitive have given me the same emotional barometer that Gran possessed.

  “Something wrong?” I ask, doing my best to appear casual.

  Jon heaves a sigh. “Just that asshole, Nino. It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

  “What did he do?” Charlie asks.

  “You know how he is. He’s just a dick.” Jon undoes his shirt and gingerly pulls his left arm out of the sleeve to reveal a red mark that will no doubt soon morph into a purple bruise. “He punched me for no reason.”

  My stomach knots because I know there probably is a reason; that reason is me, and Jon just doesn’t want to hurt my feelings.

  “That shit-head,” I say.

  Charlie eyes me as Jon puts his shirt back on. “The plan,” she mouths.

  I shake my head and mouth back, “No.”

  “Guys, I’m right here. I can hear you. What’s going on?” Jon says, fishing out his sandwich.

  I narrow my eyes and shoot daggers at Charlie, but she ignores me. Her willingness to let Jon in on our plan surprises me. This is so not the Charlie I know. I suppose she trusts him now that they’re all buddy-buddy since their bonding time while I was away.

  “We’ve got a plan,” says Charlie.

  “A plan for what?” Jon asks.

  “To get back at Nino.”

  Jon’s brows lift with interest and he leans closer. “Spill. I want in.”

  Charlie explains while I eat. Jon’s eyes widen with excitement and a huge smile fills his face. “It’s perfect,” he exclaims, thrusting a sandwich-filled hand in the air.

  I’m a little nervous about Jon knowing; especially since I’ve never really agreed to do it. Frankly, I don’t think I’ve got the guts, or the will to go through with it.

  “There are only a couple more weeks left of school, and then we’ll all be going our separate ways. Why not just forget about him. He’s not worth the effort,” I say. But they’re now talking to each other and ignoring me, while they put the final polish on “the plan.”

  “Ah, come on, Lola, he deserves what he�
��s got coming to him,” Charlie says. “We need you or it just won’t happen.” She looks at me with pleading eyes. Jon adds pouty lips and hands held up in prayer.

  “He needs to be knocked back down to earth and we can do that,” Jon says. “He thinks his shit don’t stink just because he’s the top senior athlete.”

  “Yeah, really,” says Charlie. “Big deal, so he’s the captain of the lacrosse team. Big shit.”

  “And the football and basketball teams,” Jon adds in a reluctant tone.

  “All he really is,” Charlie says, “is a bully and nothing more.”

  “And I bet he wins the athletic scholarship award.” Jon punches his own knee, and then grimaces. “Life’s not fair. Only the assholes of the world seem to get ahead. Come on, Lola, this is our last chance to punish him for everything he’s done over the years.”

  I sit in contemplation for a moment, and then heave a sigh. They’re right, and despite losing Gran, I’m feeling something I haven’t felt in probably forever  hope. I’m actually hopeful about my future. No doubt Jon has a little something to do with that. But my recent sense of contentment worries me. In order to pull off the plan, it might be hard to bring to the surface those feelings necessary to make myself invisible. I could always try to use the good feelings. Gran said either/or would work, yet the horrible, despicable ones; the ones that bring tears to my eyes and churning knots to my stomach seem to work best.

  “I have to think about it, guys. I mean, what would happen if I couldn’t make myself disappear? Or, God forbid, I reappear in the middle of it.” I flush, thinking about the coffee shop episode with Jon.

  “All right,” Jon says. “Think about it.”

  “But we’re not done talking about this just yet,” Charlie adds.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  For the last three days I’ve jogged around the block. Well, maybe jogging’s not exactly the right word. I’ve walked fast around the block, several times. It made me feel like I was going to puke up a lung, but I did it and I’m proud. I’ve also by-passed the fries in the school cafeteria and I only eat half my regular helping of dinner, which frankly isn’t all that hard since I’m pretty damn sick of stir- fry. I don’t know what I weigh and I don’t want to find out, so I’ve avoided the scale, but I’m delighted that my jeans feel a teensy bit baggy. It’s not a lot but it’s a start.