Everything, Everything Part 16

The Gla.s.s Wall

A week later, something startles me awake. I sit up. My head is foggy with sleep but my heart is awake and racing. It knows something that my head doesn't yet know.

I glance at the clock. 3:01 a.m. My curtains are closed, but I can see a glow from Olly's room. I drag myself over to the window and push aside the curtains. His entire house is ablaze with lights. Even the porch light is on. My hearts speeds up even more.

Oh, no. Are they fighting again?

A door slams. The sound is faint but unmistakable. I gather the curtains in my fist and wait, willing Olly to show himself. I don't wait for long because just then he stumbles onto the porch as if he's been pushed.

The urge to go to him fills me up like it did the last time. I want to go to him. I need to go to him, to comfort him, to protect him.

He regains his balance with his usual speed and spins to face the door with fists clenched. I brace along with him for an attack that doesn't come. He remains in fighter stance, facing the door, for a full minute. I've never seen him so still.

Another minute pa.s.ses and then his mom joins him on the porch. She tries to touch his arm but he jerks away and doesn't even look at her. Eventually she gives up. As soon as she's gone, all the tension leaves his body. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and his shoulders begin to shake. He looks up to my window. I wave, but he doesn't respond. I realize he can't see me because my lights are off. I run to the switch. But by the time I return to the window, he's gone.

I press my forehead, my palms, my forearms against the gla.s.s.

I've never wanted out of my skin more.

The Hidden World

Sometimes the world reveals itself to you. I'm alone in the darkening sunroom. Late-afternoon sun cuts a trapezoid of light through the gla.s.s window. I look up and see particles of dust drifting, crystal white and luminous, in the suspension of light.

There are entire worlds that exist just beneath our notice of them.

Half-Life

It's a strange thing to realize that you're willing to die. It doesn't come in a flash, a sudden epiphany. It happens slowly, a balloon leak in reverse.

The sight of Olly crying alone on his porch will not leave me.

I pore over the pictures that he sent from school. I make myself a place in every single one. Maddy in the library. Maddy standing next to Olly's locker waiting to go to cla.s.s. Maddy as Girl Most Likely To.

I memorize every inch of my family photo, trying to divine its secrets. I marvel at the not-sick Maddy, baby Maddy, her life stretching before her with endless possibility.

Ever since Olly came into my life there've been two Maddys: the one who lives through books and doesn't want to die, and the one who lives and suspects that death will be small price to pay for it. The first Maddy is surprised at the direction of her thoughts. The second Maddy, the one from the Hawaii photograph? She's like a G.o.d-impervious to cold, famine, disease, natural and man-made disasters. She's impervious to heartbreak.

The second Maddy knows that this pale half-life is not really living.

GOOD-BYE.

Dear Mom, The first thing is that I love you. You already know that, but I may not get the chance to tell you again.

So. I love you. I love you. I love you.

You are smart and strong and kind and selfless. I couldn't have wished for a better mom.

You're not going to understand what I'm going to say. I don't know if I understand it myself.

Because of you I'm alive, Mom, and I'm so, so grateful for that. Because of you I've survived this long and gotten a chance to know my small part of the world. But it's not enough. It's not your fault. It's this impossible life.

I'm not doing this just because of Olly. Or maybe I am. I don't know. I don't know how to explain it. It's Olly and it's not-Olly at the same time. It's like I can't look at the world in the old way anymore. I found this new part of myself when I met him and the new part doesn't know how to stay quiet and still and just observe.

Do you remember when we read The Little Prince together for the first time? I was so upset that he died in the end. I didn't understand how he could choose death just so he could get back to his rose.

I think I understand it now. He wasn't choosing to die. His rose was his whole life. Without her, he wasn't really alive.

I don't know, Mom. I don't know what I'm doing only that I have to. Sometimes I wish I could go back to the way I was before, before I knew anything. But I can't.

I'm sorry. Forgive me. I love you.

- Maddy

The Five Senses

Hearing

The alarm's keypad tries to announce my escape by emitting a loud BEEP each time I press a number. I can only hope that the sound is too unexpected and my mom's room too far away from the door for her to hear it.

The door unseals with a sigh.

I'm Outside.

The world is so quiet it roars.

Touch

The front-door handle is metal-cool and smooth, almost slippery. It's easy to let go of it, and I do.

Sight

It's 4 a.m. and too dark for detail. My eyes take in only the general shape of things, fuzzy silhouettes against the night sky. Large tree, smaller tree, steps, garden, stone path leading to a gate with a picket fence on either side. Gate, gate, gate.

Smell

I'm in Olly's garden. The air is full, ripe with scent-flowers, earth, my expanding fear. I store it away in my lungs. I toss pebbles at his window, willing him to come out.

Taste

Olly's in front of me, stunned. I don't say anything. I press my lips to his. At first he's frozen, uncertain and unyielding, but then he's not. All at once, he pulls me tight against him. One of his hands is in my hair and the other one is gripping my waist.

He tastes just like I remember.

Other Worlds

We come to our senses.

Well, Olly comes to his. He pulls away, grips my shoulders with both hands. "What are you doing out here? Are you all right? Is something wrong? Is your mom OK?"

I'm all bravado. "I'm fine. She's fine. I'm running away."

The light from his room above casts just enough light so I can see confusion across the planes of his face.

"I don't understand," he says.

I take a deep breath, but freeze midway.

The night air is cold and moist and heavy and completely unlike any air I've ever breathed.

I try to unbreathe it, to expel it from my lungs. My lips tingle and I'm light-headed. Is that just fear, or is it something else?

"Maddy, Maddy," he whispers against my ear. "What have you done?"

I can't answer. My throat is blocked like I've swallowed a stone.