CHAPTER 4
Lucky to be alive. That’s not the first I’ve heard of it.
Most people thought I had gotten raped in the woods because I was found naked with terrible wounds. While I couldn’t remember the event myself, medical results showed that there were no signs that I had been in any sexual encounter. Just the scars from animal mauling, and weirdly, a bullet in my side. A hunter must have mistaken me for prey and shot me, they said. It was a hunting rifle bullet, the kind they used to shoot deer and wolves.
I never wanted to think much about it. Like Mr. Cadwell said, there must be a good reason some things were not remembered, and the mind was better off not remembering anything.
I sketched the fire in my dream on my sketchbook. The house, all in details. I’d done some research in the internet and found that the house in my dream must indeed have been a traditional Japanese home. Almost medieval, even.
In one dream I was by the same beautiful lake that had appeared in my previous dreams. The water was so clear, so soft when my hand went through it. It was early in the morning. The birds were humming a tune that resonated through the forest. And then I bent down and saw my reflection.
Except it couldn’t have been me. It couldn’t have been the me before I lost my memories, because the girl in the reflection wasn’t a girl at all. She—I was a woman. I looked even older than I was now—probably twenty. I was in some ragged traditional clothes—not exactly a proper vintage kimono, but close to one.
Maybe I once lived in Japan? Or maybe it was just my mind making up things. For all I knew it could have been a Sushi parlor in a nearby Chinatown I was imagining on fire. But it had felt too real, too vivid.
“Class, we have a new student today.”
I stopped sketching, folding the cover of my sketchbook shut.
Mr. Harrington was one of my favorite teachers. I didn’t want to disrespect his teaching by not paying attention to him. I prop my chin by my hand, elbows on the desk. And then I straightened, and my hand fell.
Beside him was the guy.
Before, I’d always thought those swooning heroines in the Austen-era fictions were exaggerated. I mean, how could you just plop down gracefully to a set of strong arms because you had a ‘faint heart’? I’d never liked the expression itself. Talking about irony. It felt like the rest of the world had just drowned out, like water down the drain. There was a sound of flapping angelic wings in my ears—or maybe that was just my faint heart galloping faster than a racehorse. My eyes became a bit blurry, like a camera’s auto-focus, and the only thing remaining in clarity was his face.
It was him.
“I’m Duane,” he said to the class. “From Portland.”
The class was silent, waiting for his next word.
“That’s all?” Mr. Harrington asked. “Anything else you want to share with us? Single or taken or—”
“That guy must be gay,” someone whispered behind me. “A guy that hot usually is.”
“Duane,” the teacher pronounced the name into two syllables ‘Du-’ and ‘-ane’ instead of just ‘Dwayne’. “You can sit wherever you want.”
I looked around. The only empty seat in the class was just right beside me.
Duane obliged to the teacher’s command and went to sit beside me.
My heart pounded against my chest, my fingers itching to open my sketchbook to the pages I’d drawn him before. I hadn’t even told Jamie that the guy in the alley was him. Jamie would freak.
I tried to keep my eyes ahead, on the whiteboard. It was hard. It was like he was the gravity of my periphery.
His eyes—check—the striking shade of gray. I swallowed. The contours of his face—check—the silhouette in my sketches. Those lips—check—couldn’t be any other than the ones that kissed me that night in the alley.
But it couldn’t be him. He didn’t even show a sign of acknowledgement, nevertheless recognition. Maybe he’s embarrassed that he’d mistaken me for someone else and kissed me in that alley. Or maybe he just did that all the time—kissing girls in the alley before he met them at school a few days later.
I could either die from curiosity or just confront the conundrum right beside me.
I chose the second.
“Hey,” I whispered to him.
He glanced my way, then turned his attention back to the whiteboard and copied some notes to his notebook.
God. I felt so stupid. The guy didn’t even nod or raise a brow. He dismissed me. Just like that.
My face burned, and I bit the insides of my cheeks.
I couldn’t get out of my seat fast enough when the bell rang. I didn’t even bother stopping by the lockers anymore. I found Jamie and Nick in the canteen, sitting in our usual table.
Jamie looked up at me. “Hey, what’s up with the running? Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Sure.” My arm was still bandaged, but I didn’t take the pain meds. It’s better to feel a throb in my arm than numbing it—it kept me knowing that I was alive and breathing.
I plopped down to the seat opposite her and sighed. “Jamie, I so stupid!’
Jamie touched my arm, concerned. “What’s wrong, Lena?”
“The guy—new guy, Duane? He’s the guy.”
“What—you’re not making any sense.”
“The guy! The guy in the alley.” I shot a look at Nick, who looked blissfully bored. I pulled Jamie and whispered to her ear, “That guy who kissed me. Remember?”
Jamie’s eyes widened. “No. Effing. Way.”
“It’s true. And he was in my class just now. Sat right beside me.”
“And? And what?”
“And he totally ignored me! Blew me off—”
“Like, ignore how?”
“—like, one glance at me, then Elena-doesn’t-exist-glance away.”
“The nerve!”
I sighed. “I feel so stupid.”
Jamie looked sympathetic. “Well,” she said optimistically, “at least now you know how to throw yourself at a guy.”
“Jamie!”
“You know, I heard he’s Armand’s second cousin or something. He’s a bit older. Doesn’t talk a lot—kinda an anti-social. Maybe the ignorant thing is just his way.”
“Anti-social, how? You said he’s Armand’s cousin.”
“I know, right? Armand is like friends with everyone—jocks, nerds, potters. This guy just comes with Armand, goes to class, goes home with Armand again.” She looked over my shoulder. “Hey,” she waved, “Ingrid!”
I slumped on the table. Ingrid pulled a chair beside me and sat. “What’s up, Sakura?”
I tilt my face up. “Sakura?”
“You know? The flower?”
“You’re calling me a flower?”
Jamie rolled her eyes. “Sorry, Ingrid. Elena is a bit behind with pop references.”
“Sakura isn’t even pop,” Ingrid said. “It’s a Japanese flower. Can be a female name, too. In Naruto, Sakura is the girl Naruto likes. At first, anyway.”
“Naruto?”
“You don’t read comics? Watch anime?”
I sighed. “Supernatural is the only show I watch, thanks to Jamie.”
Ingrid laughed. Behind her, I saw him coming.
My breath stuttered. He was heading right here. To our table. Duane’s strides were long and effective. There was an aura he radiated when he walked.
“Hey,” he said. To Ingrid.
“Oh, hi!” Ingrid said.
“I’ve done the whole report.” He handed a bunch of papers to her. “You can copy it. Please turn it in for me tomorrow. I’ll be absent.”
“Absent? Why?”
“Family business.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Thank you.”
He went away. Without even so much as glancing at me.
“Aww,” Jamie said, poking me teasingly. “Don’t be so miserable. He’s just a guy.”
“A very hot one,” Ingrid sighed.
I sank in even further into my hands, covering my face.
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