All the Bright Places(15)

“Yes.”

“Too bad. Want to walk?” I start walking.

“Not that way.” She pulls on my arm and drags me in the other direction.

“Are we avoiding something?”

“No. It’s just, uh—nicer over here.”

I put on my best Embryo voice. “So, how long have you been having these suicidal feelings?”

“God, don’t talk so loud. And I’m not … I’m not …”

“Suicidal. You can say it.”

“Well, anyway, I’m not.”

“Unlike me.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You were up on the ledge because you didn’t know where else to turn and what else to do. You’d lost all hope. And then, like a gallant knight, I saved your life. By the way, you look totally different without makeup. Not bad necessarily, but different. Maybe even better. So what’s up with this website of yours? Have you always wanted to write? Tell me about yourself, Violet Markey.”

She answers like a robot: There’s not much to say. I guess so. There’s nothing to tell.

“So, California. That must have been a change for you. Do you like it?”

“Like what?”

“Bartlett.”

“It’s all right.”

“What about this neighborhood?”

“It’s all right too.”

“These are not the words of someone who just had her life handed back to her. You should be on top of the f—ing world right now. I’m here. You’re here. Not only that, you’re here with me. I can think of at least one girl who’d want to trade places with you.”

She makes this frustrated (and strangely hot) arrrrrr sound. “What do you want?”

I stop under a streetlight. I drop the fast talk and the charm. “I want to know why you were up there. And I want to know that you’re okay.”

“If I tell you, will you go home?”

“Yes.”

“And never bring it up again?”

“That depends on your answers.”

She sighs and starts to walk. For a while she doesn’t say anything, so I stay quiet, waiting her out. The only sounds are someone’s television and a party somewhere in the distance.

After several blocks of this, I say, “Anything you tell me stays between us. You might not have noticed, but I’m not exactly swimming in friends. And even if I was, it wouldn’t matter. Those *s have enough to gossip about.”

She takes a breath. “When I went to the tower, I wasn’t really thinking. It was more like my legs were walking up the stairs and I just went where they took me. I’ve never done anything like that before. I mean, that’s not me. But then it was like I woke up and I was on that ledge. I didn’t know what to do, so I started to freak out.”

“Have you told anyone what happened?”

“No.” She stops walking, and I resist the urge to touch her hair, which blows across her face. She pushes it out of the way.

“Not your parents?”

“Especially not my parents.”

“You still didn’t tell me what you were doing up there.”

I don’t actually expect her to answer, but she says, “It was my sister’s birthday. She would have been nineteen.”

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

“But that isn’t why. The why is that none of it matters. Not school, not cheerleading, not boyfriends or friends or parties or creative writing programs or …” She waves her arms at the world. “It’s all just time filler until we die.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Whether it’s filler or not, I’m pretty glad to be here.” If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that you need to make the most of it. “It mattered enough for you not to jump.”

“Can I ask you something?” She is studying the ground.

“Sure.”

“Why do they call you Theodore Freak?”

Now I’m studying the ground like it’s the most interesting thing I’ve ever seen. It takes me a while to answer because I’m trying to decide how much to say. Honestly, Violet, I don’t know why the kids don’t like me. Lie. I mean, I know but I don’t. I’ve always been different, but to me different is normal. I decide on a version of the truth.

“In eighth grade, I was a lot smaller than I am now. That was before your time, before you got here.” I look up long enough to see her nod her head. “Ears stuck out. Elbows stuck out. My voice didn’t drop till the summer before high school, when I shot up fourteen inches.”

“That’s all?”

“That and sometimes I say and do things without thinking. People don’t like that.”

She’s quiet as we round a corner, and I can see her house in the distance. I walk slower, buying us more time. “I know the band playing down at the Quarry. We could head over there, get warm, listen to music, forget about everything. I also know a place with a pretty awesome view of the town.” I shoot her one of my better grins.

“I’m going inside and going to sleep.”

I’m always amazed by people and their sleep. I wouldn’t ever sleep if I didn’t have to.