Replay

Chapter 6

6

“Hey, Cara Dara!” It was Toomy.

“Don’t let her stay too long,” I muttered to Beth, “okay? Tell her I get too tired or something.”

Beth gave me a strange look, which I understood, since Toomy has been my best friend since second grade.

“Ten minutes,” I said, “okay?”

I’d barely gotten it out before Toomy bounded onto the porch. She glanced at my leg and winced. “Yow, gimp.” She slapped my hand in greeting. “What’s shakin’, Bethie?”

“Not much.” Beth left us to go back inside, but not before tapping her watch at me, a little too theatrically.

“Okay, I promise.” I rolled my eyes at Toomy. “Nurse Campbell says I’m not to exert myself.”

Toomy noticed the plate on my lap, piled high with provolone and chocolate wrappers.

“Fully lettin’ yourself go, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Want some?”

Toomy chuffed. “I could so kick your a*s at the hundred right now.”

And so it resumed. This weird combination the two of us have—part friendship, part competition. And the truth is I’m not interested in either anymore.

Toomy launched into her report about everything that’s been going on at school while I’ve been gone, and I just didn’t care. It meant as much to me as if she’d shown up to discuss Bangladeshi weather. As weird as I feel around my own family right now, I can’t even imagine what it will be like when I have to go back to school. I have nothing in common with any of those people anymore. I feel about a hundred years old.

And while Toomy was babbling away I was busy thinking, I wonder why her eyes are brown. Why her top lip is bigger than the bottom one. Which card she drew to get that pitching arm. Does she already know what she is? Did she pick Healer? Or Mother? Or maybe Killer? How many choices are in that deck? How specific does it get? Was Hitler born Hitler?

Toomy waved her hand in front of my face. “Hey—stoner—you listening?”

“Yeah,” I lied. “Just a little tired.”

Right on cue, thank you, Beth emerged from the house to point at her watch again. “Sorry,” she told me, “but you know what the doctor said.”

“Aye, aye,” I answered, saluting. “Sorry, Toom, my jailer is very strict.”

Toomy didn’t budge yet. “Alex been by?”

“Nope.” I let out a breath. I’d been waiting for that question.

“Huh? What’s up with that?”

“I’m sure he’s busy.” I felt like adding, “Good.”

“I’ll go ride his a*s,” Toomy promised.

“No, that’s okay—”

“Happy to.” She stood up, took another serious look at my leg, and said, “How long do they think?”

“Months. At least through skiing, maybe into softball.”

Toomy whistled. “My dad’s not gonna like that.”

I shrugged. “I’m not having much fun with it, either.”

She slapped my hand again and set off. “I’m gonna go rag on your boy. Not coming over—what a dog.”

“It’s okay,” I called after her. “Don’t bother.”

But she was already dialing him on her cell. She waved over her shoulder. “No problem. He deserves some hell.”

I sank back in my chair. I really was exhausted.

Beth must have noticed. “Want some help?”

“Nah, I’m okay. Just hand me those.” Beth waited with my crutches while I gingerly lifted my leg from the footstool. “Hey, by the way—thanks for breaking it up.”

“Are you mad at her or something?”

“No. It’s just . . . I can’t really take all the noise anymore. It’s too much talking.”

Beth must have thought that included her, too, because she didn’t say anything else as she followed me inside and up the stairs. But she did suck in her breath every time it looked like I might bump my leg. Finally I had to tell her she was making me nervous.

“Sorry, it just looks so . . . painful.”

“I have to get used to it,” I said. “I’m going to be on these for a while.”

When we were finally outside my bedroom, Beth asked, “Do you want me to call you for dinner?”

“No, I think I’m just going to sleep. I’ll come down later if I’m hungry.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “Just shout. I’ll bring you something.”

How could you not love a sister like that? So why couldn’t it have been her face I saw as I came back to life? It would have made everything so much easier.

I shut my bedroom door and leaned against it. I really did want to go back to bed, but I knew I had to do something first—something I should have done days ago. There’s really no way of escaping it.

I went to my computer, did a quick search, and found David Mayer’s phone number. Because obviously the card I drew was Stalker.

Great start to my new life. I’m hunting down a freak.