The Waking Moon

Chapter Five

The day after the accident, I did go to school. I drifted around like a zombie, sitting through classes I wouldn’t remember ten minutes after leaving. What seemed so important the day before now felt ridiculously irrelevant. I didn’t care what anybody thought of me. I didn’t care if I made friends. I didn’t care about all of the perfect Penrose girls who made me feel like an ugly freak. I didn’t even care that I was wearing the same rumpled clothes I’d worn the day before.

After my last class, I groaned when I saw Rhodes standing at his locker waiting for me. He was a little more normally dressed—jeans and a black sweater, topped off with a black fedora. All day I’d wanted to burst into tears, and I was only holding it together because I was left alone. The last thing I needed was Rhodes.

“Did you hear about Chapel Bale?’” he asked excitedly, as I pulled on my coat and absently shoved books into my satchel. He leaned against the closed door of his locker, looking at me with the bright and eager face of someone bursting to share terrible news. But I just shrugged, not knowing or caring what he was talking about. I just wanted to go home.

“Killed herself. Slit her wrist.”

I barely registered what he was saying. “I have no idea who that is,” I said. “And I’ve got problems of my own.”

“Oh, Paulette, I’m sure you’ve seen…”

“Just leave me alone.” I closed my locker and pushed my way down the hall toward the front doors. Rhodes was at my heels.

“Paulette!”

I shoved my way through the masses as quickly as I could manage, but I sensed Rhodes walking close behind. Then a tall guy built like a bank vault plowed backward through the crowd, his arms raised to catch a football. He slammed into me and I hit the ground hard. The guy didn’t even seem to notice. He raised the ball in the air and bellowed like a caveman. Before I could look up, Rhodes was on his knees beside me. He grabbed my satchel and put a hand on my back.

“Are you okay?”

I looked at him, feeling the fissures inside me coming apart. Stubbornly, I held my breath and bit my lip as hard as I could without breaking the skin. But it was no use. Once the tears began to well up, there was no stopping them. Rhodes’s usual flippant expression immediately vanished.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ve got you.”

He put an arm around my waist and pulled me to my feet.

“Would you spastic knuckleheads get the hell out of the way!” he yelled at the gawking faces and oblivious clusters of bodies blocking us. He swept me alongside his tall, lanky frame until we were out the doors and into the cold air. I was grateful but embarrassed. There’s nothing worse than letting someone see you cry, especially when they don’t know you. It’s like giving all your good cards away. No matter what happens after that, you’ll never be the cool girl or the mysterious girl or even the hip eccentric girl. You’ll just be the big weenie who cried at school.

Rhodes curled one finger and tipped my chin up, as if we were playing out a sad scene in a movie. He looked down at my tear-streaked face, but I forced my chin free and pulled away. Unfazed, he did a little waddle and held out an elbow, just like Charlie Chaplin does to Paulette Goddard at the end of Modern Times. It was my mom’s all-time favorite movie, and so the gesture made me tear up even more.

“Paulette, my dear, I’m walking you home.”

“That’s okay,” I said, wiping at my eyes. “I’m fine. Really.”

But Rhodes just jutted his elbow out even further. “Halfway?”

I sighed and took his arm, too tired to fight it.

“You lead the way,” he said.

We walked arm in arm for six blocks, sometimes moving to the gutters where I listened to our feet break through the ice in hollow pops. I kept my eyes on the street, thinking about the first few months after Judy died, and the way I started crossing streets mid-block and staring down the oncoming traffic. I’d watch the cars speeding toward me, daring death to take me too. No one ever saw me do it—not my parents or my friends. Only the panicked drivers who slammed on their brakes, laid on their horns, and watched bewildered as I ran away. 

Rhodes and I moved along in silence, watching the flurries of snow twirl in the wind. The light was already slipping away, and the stark branches of the ash trees looked black against the sky. In spite of myself, I enjoyed the feel of his warm, supportive arm under my hand.

“Thanks,” I said when it came time for me to turn off. “I think I’ll take it from here.”

Rhodes squeezed his arm against the side of his body, trapping my wrist. His shaggy blond hair fell in loose curls beneath his fedora. “You gonna be okay?”

I gave him a half smile, but couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes. “I’m fine. I really am.”

He nodded and released my arm. “So…I assume you’ve heard about the new corduroy pillows?” He looked down, nodding earnestly to himself.

“What are you talking about?” I asked wearily.

Rhodes looked up with a twinkle in his eyes. “They’re making headlines!”

I couldn't help but laugh at his corny joke and gave his shoulder a little shove. He winked and pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his coat. Then he turned on one heel and took off running, his long black coat flapping like a cape behind him. He jumped high off the ground, leaned to one side in midair, and clicked his heels together. He kept running and did it again and again, until he was just a small, joyful silhouette vanishing into gray.