Invisible Girl, Chapter One

                   Somethin’ filled up my heart with nothin’,
                   someone told me not to cry. 
                   But now that I’m older, my heart’s colder,
                   and I can see that it’s a lie.
                   Children wake up, hold your mistake up,
                   before they turn the summer into dust.
                   If the children don’t grow up,
                   our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up.

                                                           ‘Wake Up’, Arcade Fire.


         I know you can’t see me.  But you can hear me.  It’s important that you listen.  See, I know the truth.  I saw everything.  I watched.  You need to know this.

         He lay on the ground blood running from his crushed nose, his cut lip, the scratch on his cheek.  They stood around him, looking down at him.  That was when he started to cry.  Somebody stamped on his stomach and he screamed in agony.
         “Let’s kill him,” she said.  They looked into each other’s eyes as he lay on the ground whimpering.

chapter one: everybody laughed
         Jimmy shut his locker gently, turned and walked towards math class.  He kept his eyes focused firmly forwards, looking only into the future.  There was no need for him to turn to the kids shouting at him.  He’d heard it all before.  He’d hear it all again tomorrow.  An empty soda can hit him on the back and everybody laughed.  Jimmy didn’t flinch, he didn’t turn, he just walked forwards waiting for that moment when he’d be out of their range forever.
         You see, Jimmy was fat.  And I mean really fat, not just big-boned or whatever.  He was huge.  His stomach hung in front of him and behind him and to the side.  His thighs practically burst out of the oversize sweat pants he wore.  He had bigger tits than me.  He sweated like crazy wherever he was and it had this rancid ham gone bad stench to it.  And he panted and wheezed every time he moved.  Jimmy was no catch.  Hell, not even Mother Theresa’d have taken him to prom.  But here he was.  Alive, and fat and sixteen and in high school.  Well aware that these are all terrible things.
         Jimmy walked into math class and headed to his desk at the back.  They’d had to find a special chair and a special desk just for him because he was too big to fit into the desks the other kids had.  He squeezed past the other desks, trying to ignore the girls who wrinkled their noses and the guys who made barfing noises.
         Even as he sat down he knew something was about to happen.  He could see it in the way the other kids all turned to look at him, their expectant faces reminding him of the time they’d filled his schoolbag with rotting meat.  He sat down slowly, resigned to his fate.  The chair gave away beneath him.  He crashed down to the floor and lay there with his eyes closed.  And everybody laughed.  Really loudly like they’d never seen anything as funny in their laugh.  Hell, even I laughed.  I couldn’t help it.  I’m not a saint, I’m just a kid who grew up watching America’s Funniest Home Videos. 
         No one stopped laughing.  Minutes past and still they all laughed and wiped their eyes and laughed and laughed and laughed.  All the time Jimmy just lay on the ground with his eyes closed.  I know why he just lay there.  He didn’t know what else to do.  I mean, what are you supposed to do?  He lay there with his eyes closed and tried to remember the TV movie he’d watched last night.  But it didn’t work.  All he could hear was laughter.  All he could see was darkness.
         So I went and knelt beside him and whispered in his ear.  “Get up Jimmy”, I said.  Jimmy opened his eyes and looked for me, but he couldn’t see me.
         That was when Mr. Taylor, who teaches American History in the room next door, came in and said “What’s all this noise in aid of?”, or words to that effect.  I figured they’d quieten down now, but Andrea Rudebaker started to try and explain that Jimmy had broken his chair and everyone started laughing again.  Mr. Taylor looked annoyed and asked where the hell was Mrs Stevens.  It was kinda a stupid question.  Mrs Stevens, who teaches math, tends to wash her lunch down with a few shots of neat gin out of the hipflask she found as a girl in an empty house.  So she’s always late for the first class after lunch. 
         Finally Mr. Taylor saw Jimmy lying on the floor.  “What in god’s name are you doing on the ground?” he asked.  He didn’t wait for an answer.  “Go to Mr. Peterson’s office right now.”  Jimmy looked up at Mr. Taylor blankly.  Mr. Taylor shouted at him to get up right now.  So Jimmy tried to get up.  The thing is when you’re as big and heavy as Jimmy it’s not that easy.  He rolled to his side and tried to rock himself onto his knees.  Mr. Taylor looked down at him in disgust and shouted at him again to get up.  Jimmy tried to roll himself onto his front, but one of his legs got caught under the back of Louise Snyder’s chair.  Louise screamed and jumped up causing the chair to topple onto Jimmy.  All the kids were pretty close to hysterics now, laughing louder than all the hyenas in the wide world. 
         Mr. Taylor was open-mouthed with astonishment.  I saw him snigger, then his jaw dropped again and I looked at his tongue which had white flecks of saliva on it.  I was standing by the window watching all this and I happened to glance at the window sill.  There was a dead fly lying there, its many legs pointing to the sky.  I picked it up, stepped closer to Mr. Taylor and put the dead fly in his mouth.  For a moment he didn’t notice, then he felt something on his tongue.  He spat the fly out into his hand and looked at it.  His lips sheered up in disgust as he wiped the fly onto the surface of a desk.  He crushed it beneath his palm leaving a trace of blood across the surface of the desk.  For a moment he looked around the classroom.  At Jimmy lying on the ground a chair on top of him.  At the kids shaking with laughter, the high-pitched sound of which vibrated off the windows and doors.  At the squashed remains of the fly on the desk.  Then he walked out of the room.  He didn’t go back to his class.  He left them wondering what the hell happened after Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation.  He walked down the empty corridor and out of the building into the parking lot.  He stood in the rain not wanting to be here but having no place else to go.
         A few minutes later Mrs Stevens walked in.  She looked around the room briefly.  “Somebody help him up,” she said.  Then she sat behind her desk and closed her eyes.  It took five boys to lift Jimmy to his feet.  He kept his eyes closed all the while and when he was standing again he walked as quickly as he could out of the classroom. 
         Jimmy walked all the way home in the rain, wheezing and sweating as he went.  When he got home he went straight to the basement and turned the TV on.  He stared at the TV screen watching as a family celebrated Christmas.  He gazed at the picture transfixed.  In the dark of the basement it was all he could see.  It was all he wanted to see.

         I stood on the sidewalk and watched all the other kids walk past me.  I was inside them and outside.  They had so much to say and I listened to the words I caught as they walked on by.  Plans they were making, TV shows they loved, a CD someone had borrowed and hadn’t returned, a girl who’d fooled round with this guy at the weekend, someone’s dad had moved out, some teacher was being an asshole. 
         And then I saw what I was waiting for.  Danny Connors and his girlfriend Evie walking hand in hand towards me.  They were like the same person.  They both wore Converse high tops and skinny jeans and hooded tops and ipods and Eastpak bags and short dark hair.  I’d started following Danny a few months back.  I thought he was cute, okay?  So I followed him home and sat beside him on  the couch watching TV.  I walked down to the Falls with him and stood next to him as he looked into the water, blowing smoke through the night air.  Danny’s a couple of years older than me.  He’s someone I’ve always been aware of ever since I started at school.  And now I can be a part of his life.  Or at least he can be a part of my life.
         They walked right past me, so close I could feel Evie’s breath on my cheek.  I turned and followed them.  I knew they’d go to Evie’s house because her dad worked in the city and didn’t get home till like seven at night at the earliest.  I don’t know where her mom is.  She never mentions her and there’s no one I can ask. 
         As I followed I got to thinking about Evie.  I really hated her.  I mean I hated her because she was everything I wanted to be.  She was pretty and smart and funny and she had a boy like Danny.  I should probably tell you I follow her too.  And I hang out in her room trying to work out what I need to do to be her.  I borrow some of her CDs and her books and stuff and try and understand them.  But I know she’s not as perfect as everyone thinks she is.  I know that most of the papers she does for school she buys off of this website.  I know that at the back of her closet she has a bunch of Bon Jovi records that she only listens to when there’s no one around.  And I know that this kid who lives next door, I think he’s called Justin, comes round a couple of times a week and they do stuff.  He’s only like fourteen and she’s seventeen.  They don’t touch or anything.  They just take their clothes off and look at each other.  It’s weird.  I know it’s wrong that I watch this but I can’t help myself.  Still, I’ve seen stranger stuff.  People do the freakiest things when they think they’re alone.
         So I was thinking all this stuff about Evie and hadn’t noticed that they’d already gone inside Evie’s house.  I waited a moment then opened the door and stepped inside.  I knew they’d be in the kitchen.  Danny always made a sandwich right after school, and he made one for Evie too.  She sat on a stool watching him.
         “What?” he said.
         “Nothing.  I was just thinking.  What if we’d never met.  What if my dad had moved to the city when I was like a baby or something.  You think we’d be happy?”
         “I don’t know,” he said.  “You’d have found me anyway.”
         “I’d have found you?  Why wouldn’t you find me?  Asshole!”
         “Okay.  I’d have found you.”
         “How?”
         “How?”  Danny looked confused.  “In this make believe world where we’ve never met you want to know how I’d have found you?”
         Evie nodded.  She wasn’t smiling anymore.  I’d thought she’d been joking but something about the way she didn’t move made me think this was something she thought about a lot.  You know, it’s the kinda thing I think about too.  Like what if one day when I was ten and Danny was twelve and I used to go down to the old basketball court at the high school that they didn’t use anymore he’d walked past and seen me and somehow had known I was the one he was supposed to save.
         “Well, I guess I’d have known something was missing,” Danny said.  “I’d be able to feel it somehow.  So I’d put personal ads in every newspaper in America for a girl who was missing something too.”
         Evie laughed at that.  “You’d have got like a million replies.”
         “Sure, but I’d know which reply was yours, wouldn’t I?”
         Danny finished making the sandwiches.  He handed a plate to Evie.  She took it from and put it down on the counter.  “Come here,” she whispered.
         So they kissed and stuff and stumbled into the den and rolled around on the couch.  I stayed in the kitchen listening to them.  Don’t get me wrong.  Sometimes I watch them.  I mean one day I want a boyfriend and I want to know what to do.  But today I felt tired.  I was tired of watching them.  They were happy, and in love and had all the things that I wanted but didn’t know how to get. 
         That was when I decided I’d stop following Danny.  It’s cool being invisible you know.  The things you can see.  But it’s lonely too.  And pretty pathetic.  I mean when you’re sitting round watching some guy you have a crush on making out with his girlfriend it’s time to find a new hobby.  Okay, so that wasn’t exactly the first time I’d decided to give up stalking people.  But this time I really meant it. 
         I stood up to leave.  For a moment I stood in the doorway and looked at them on the couch and wondered what it’d be like.  To kiss him, to be held in his arms.  Then I reminded myself I was getting a new hobby and left.   

         An hour and twenty minutes passed with me lying on my bed staring at the ceiling.  Maybe, I thought, I could take up baton twirling.  I’d been invisble for nearly a year.  To be honest it was pretty hard not going and following people and watching what they did when they were on their own.  That’s the only way you ever really get to know anyone.  By seeing what they do when they’re alone.  Usually no one gets to see that stuff. So I figure nobody ever gets to know anybody.  What do I know, right?  I’m just a kid.

         Maeve stared in incomprehension at the plate in front of her.  Some kinda fish stared back at her.  She poked it with a fork half-expecting it to jump off of the plate and writhe around on the floor like Jimmy Dean Harris had in math class this afternoon.
         “What is it dear?” her mother said, in that tone of voice that announced to the world just how tired she was if having to tolerate her fuckup of a daughter.
         “I don’t like fish,” Maeve replied.
         “Yes you do, dear.”
         “No.  I don’t.”
         “Of course you like fish.  You always say you could eat fish for breakfast, brunch, lunch and dinner.  Doesn’t she George?”
         George frowned, looking surprised at being drawn into the proceedings.  That was how he reacted whenever any of his daughters spoke to him.  With Maeve’s older sisters it was funny.  It was his schtick.  His way of sharing something with them.  When he did it with Maeve it really felt like genuine surprise.  “No dear.  It’s Patricia who loves fish.”
         “Oh, of course.  You’re right.  How could I not...”
         It was at this point that Maeve stopped listening.  She was well aware of the way the conversation would go now.  Her parents were going to reminisce about the good daughters.  The fun they had when they took them to Niagara Falls, to Canada, to Sea World.  Maeve was only four years younger than Patricia, and five years younger than Eleanor.  Yet in that short time before her birth her family seemed to have crammed in more sight-seeing and life-altering experiences than in the last sixteen years.
         For the briefest moment her parents’ conversation intruded into her consciousness.  “Well of course she screamed when the whale popped.” 
         “Of course.”
         Of course.  Maeve set about slicing the fish up.  She dissected it like this was a biology final.  Taking it apart, tail and fins and eyes and gills and bones and white mushy insides ripped out and on display for all the world to see.  When the fish was in pieces, Maeve stood up and walked out of the dining room.
         “You haven’t finished your fish, dear,” her mother hollered after her.
         Maeve stood still and stared blindly at the tastefully floral wallpaper that surrounded her.  “I fucking hate fish!” she screamed, before taking a deep breath and walking away.
         “What on earth was that about?” her mother asked her father.
         “I have no idea.”

         Maeve knelt on the floor by her bed, looking for all the world like a little kid saying her prayers before going to bed.  She searched beneath the mattress for the small tear in the fabric.  Finding it she forced her finger into it.  After a moment she pulled a small white tablet out.  She peered at it trying to remember what it was, where she’d got it.  She swallowed it down without a glass of water, which I always thought looked pretty cool.  At home I’d try and do it with my multivitamins.  I’d done it once, but panicked at the last moment and the tablet was caught in my windpipe.  I nearly choked.  I kid you not.  I couldn’t breathe and I was terrified.  I thought about calling 911, but I figured the paramedics might have a problem with not being able to see me.  So in the end I just shoved my fingers down my throat and kinda grappled around a bit.  I ended up being sick all over my hand which was pretty gross, but somewhere in the grappling and vomiting I managed to knock the pill loose.  So I didn’t die.  I don’t know why I just told you that.  You didn’t want to hear it, I didn’t want anyone to know about it.  It’s just been a while since anyone’s listened to me.  I’ve kinda forgot what’s acceptable for polite conversation. 
         Maeve opened the window then went and lay on the bed.  I sat down on her desk and watched her.  Maeve was only sixteen but she was already one of the prettiest girls you’re ever likely to see.  She had short dark hair and dark eyes and a smile that was never really a smile.  There’s something a little unsettling about Maeve.  She has this blankness that always makes me think she could do someone a great injury without batting her eyelashes. 
         In a box under her bed she keeps all these notebooks which record in great detail mundane events in her life.  Several pages are devoted to one night when she watched ER with her sisters.  Everything her sisters said, what they drank, every mouthful of food that passed their lips, a brief telephone conversation between her eldest sister and her boyfriend is recorded in faithful detail.  There are at least eight entries about her father reading the newspaper.  He doesn’t say anything, just reads and turns the page every so often (‘at 9:07 am my father turned from the front page to the second page of the newspaper which had a large picture of a man in a suit.  He folded the paper in half and held it approximately ten centimeters from his face.  The index finger of his left hand pointed to the word human.  Without putting down the paper he picked up a mug (decorated with flowers) containing instant coffee...’ there’s like nine more pages like that.)  I think maybe that’s why I like Maeve.  She watches people too.  I mean only Maeve would bother to write such detailed accounts of nothing and only I would bother to read them all.   
         Maeve had fallen asleep.  She lay drooling onto her arm snoring softly.  I fought the temptation to cover her with a blanket or to shut the window.  Instead I went through all the phone numbers Maeve had on her cell.  She knew all the cool kids.  Especially the boys.  Even boys like Shane Jackson who was widely agreed to be the hottest guy in school and was a senior and had got some kinda football scholarship used to hang out with her.  I mean she’s that pretty.  But not only that.  She has this way with boys like she’s doesn’t really know they’re there that drives them nuts.  It’s pretty funny to watch.  They’ll be like telling her some long, intricate story about some athletic achievement, or the time they did 120 on the road out of town, or how they really like her, and she’ll suddenly blink and look and at them real confused and say, “What?” like she doesn’t have a clue what they’re talking about.  You should see it.
         For a moment I thought about ringing Shane Jackson up but then I thought what would I say to him.  I could go to his house and see what he’s doing.  But all he does at home is play video games.  I mean that really is the only thing he does.  So I decided I’d go and see Jimmy.  When I followed him home from school earlier that day was the first time I’d really followed him.  But I wanted to make sure he wasn’t like suicidal or whatever.

         Jimmy hadn’t moved since earlier this afternoon.  He sat staring at the TV screen in the dark basement.  He was watching some old movie.  I mean it was in color at least.  I didn’t really know what was happening but Jimmy seemed to be into it.  I could see tears in his eyes reflecting in the light from the TV like jewels in the darkness. I sat down on the couch next to him.  He kinda smelt pretty bad so I covered my nose and mouth with my hand and watched the film.  Some pretty blonde lady was real upset about something.  I didn’t know what, but I could tell from the music we were supposed to feel bad for her. 
         All of a sudden a band of light stretched out across the basement.  Jimmy scowled.  Someone had opened the door.  After a moment they shut it again, then I heard someone walking down the stairs into the basement.  Jimmy didn’t move.  “Hey,” a boy said in the darkness.  I looked round and remembered that Jimmy had an older brother, Stephen.  Though to tell you the truth you’d never figure they were brothers.  Jimmy was, well, large, and kinda repellent.  Stephen was nicely built and really cute.  All the girls at school were in love with him.  It wasn’t just his stellar good looks either.  He was just a very sweet boy.  He was nice to like everyone at school.  Even the losers, and the loser teachers.  He’d even spoken to me a few times, though he was a few years older than me and popular and everything.  The first time was one Sunday after church.  My grandparents took me for a while after my mom died and my dad stopped going, but after a few months they stopped bothering.  Anyway, after church I was standing by the road on my own waiting for my grandparents to stop talking to Reverend Johnson.  I knew what they were talking about.  How my dad and I were dealing with loss and grief and all those words that don’t really mean anything.  Stephen and his mom came out of the church (I guess Jimmy had stayed in the basement or whatever) and Stephen saw me.  He walked over to me and said, “Hi.”  I smiled at him, then he said, “I’m really sorry about your mom.”  I looked at him and gave him the sad smile and the nod of the head I’d seen my grandmother do, though at that moment I didn’t feel at all sad.  I felt totally excited that this boy who everybody knew and everybody liked was talking to me.  I tried to think of something cool to say but I couldn’t remember any of the English language.  “Bye,” he said and walked back to his mom.  I finally remembered a word in English.  That word was shit.  Shit, I thought.  Even as I was thinking it I felt bad.  I mean I was outside a church thinking a swear.  That was pretty bad.  But then I thought why I should do what Jesus wants me to do.  What’d he ever do for me, apart from kill my mom?  Shit shit shit, I thought.  That was pretty the much the moment I parted company with god. 
         The second time Stephen spoke to me was my first day of high school.  The bell had gone and I didn’t know how to get to the room I was supposed to be in and I was just standing there feeling sick.  Then Stephen walked up to me and asked where I was supposed to go.  I kinda shrugged because I didn’t know what to say.  So he took my schedule out of my hand and glanced at it.  Then he pointed down the hallway and told me where the room was.  And then he was gone. 
         The last time Stephen spoke to me was the day after my fourteenth birthday.  That was the day I stopped being visible.  I was walking home from school and Stephen asked me if I was okay.  I nodded.  He said I didn’t look well or something and asked me if I wanted a ride home.  I looked at him wondered how the fuck people this lovely get made.  The one thing I wanted in the whole world at that moment more than anything was to get a ride home with Stephen (and I mean more than anything - if I could have had world peace, or infinite riches, or even had my mom back - sorry ma, I’d have chosen getting in Stephen’s car and driving away).  But I said no, I don’t need a ride.  The thought of saying yes, of walking to his car, getting in, maybe with some of his friends, sitting there as he drove me home, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t make me sound like an idiot filled me with terror.  I felt hot all over like I was sweating and bright red.  I walked away.  By the time I got home I was no longer visible to the naked eye. 
         I like to think that there all those alternate universes out there like some scientists say there are.  And somewhere in the universe I said yes to Stephen and he drove me home and I became his friend and I didn’t become invisible and I am happy in that world.  And somewhere in the universe my mom didn’t die and my dad was still happy and he still loved me and we are a family.  See, I don’t mind my life being shitty if somewhere I get to be happy.  I don’t mind taking one for the team.  If I’m honest though, I don’t  really believe these alternate worlds or whatever exist.  I just figure the scientists who invented them are pretty unhappy too and dream of a world where at high school they weren’t some geek who got beaten up every day and couldn’t get a date to prom but instead they were some totally hot jock who was super popular with the prettiest girl in school for their girlfriend.
         I guess I’m kinda digressing.  I do that a lot.  Even my teachers noticed that.  Mr. Taylor, the American History teacher, always puts red lines through paragraphs of my papers and writes digression in big letters.  I don’t see why he gets to decide what’s a digression and what’s not a digression. 
         So Stephen was standing next to me in the darkness of the basement and I was pretty excited about that.  I mean I guess I’ve always had a bit of a crush on him since...well probably since I was eight years old standing outside the church waiting for my grandparents.  I’ve never watched Stephen since I became invisible.  I guess I always felt it would be wrong somehow.  If I really loved Stephen I wouldn’t spy on him.  I mean it’s kinda fun to watch someone like Shane Jackson take a shower or something.  And even with Danny, I just thought he was cute at first.  It was only the more I saw of him the more I liked him.  So I hadn’t seen Stephen this close up since the last time he spoke to me.
         Jimmy didn’t look away from the TV screen.  “What do you want?” he said.
         “I just wanted to see if you were okay?” Stephen said.
         “Why?
         “I heard.  Some guys at school said...The...”
         “What?”
         “I heard what happened in class.  Are you alright?”
         “I’m fine Stephen.  Thank you for your concern.”  I was surprised by how Jimmy said that.  Like he hated Stephen more than anyone in the world.  But I figured if you look like Jimmy having Stephen as your brother is like the worst joke ever.
         “What are you watching?” Stephen asked.
         “The televison.”
         “Yeah, but is it like a film or...”
         “It’s the news Stephen.”
         “Really?  It doesn’t look like the news.”
         “Of course it’s not the fucking news.  Does it look like the news?  Jesus, you’re fucking dumber than you look.”
         “Okay.  I’ll go.”
         “Thank you!”
         Stephen walked away slowly.  He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned back to Jimmy.  Then he walked up the stairs and was gone.  I was really tempted to follow him.  For lots of reasons.  He’d looked pretty upset that Jimmy had been so mean to him.  And I didn’t really want to hang out with Jimmy anymore on account of him being so mean.  And Stephen was really cute.  And I kinda wondered if maybe he’d be able to help with my invisibility.  He’d been the last person to actually see me.  Maybe if we did some sort of Freaky Friday style ritual I’d be visible again.  Then again, I didn’t really want that.  I was happier being invisible.  I wanted to stay that way.
         I sat watching the TV for a while.  The blonde woman was kinda pissing me off, running round weeping and screaming.  And the music was making me edgy.  Jimmy was totally engrossed by it.  Tears ran down his face as the woman got more and more hyper.  I sat there thinking how my plan to not spy on people anymore had lasted like two hours.  I was invisible I told myself.  I may as well make the most of it.  Which reminded me of Danny.

         Danny wasn’t at home.  And he wasn’t at Evie’s.  And he wasn’t at the Falls.  It took me about an hour before I found him.  He was at the Elementary school with Evie.  They liked to come and sit in the field at the back looking down at where they’d been little kids.  Evie was lying in Danny’s arms.  She gently stroked his hand with her thumb.  I sat behind them so I could listen to them talking.  They were talking about their Elementary school teachers.  Danny admitted he used to be in love with Miss Sutherland.  I remembered her.  She’d been nice.  “I remember...” Evie started to say, then she stopped abruptly. 
         “What?” Danny asked her.
         Evie just shook her head.  Finally she said, “I was thinking about that game we used to play in class.  You know where we’d all switch chairs when Mr. Peterson was writing on the blackboard.  And that time when Mr. Peterson turned round and Tom was still standing up so he sat down on Jake’s lap.”  I could hear them both breathing in the darkness.
         “I’d forgotten that.”
         “Yeah.  I hadn’t thought about it for years.  Do you think it’s weird.  That we never talk about him?”
         “I don’t know what to say about him.”
         “I know.”
         Evie turned into Danny so her head was resting on his chest.  They lay there in silence for the longest time.  I wanted to push her off him and shout “I have pain.  I have tragedy in my past too.  I can be part of your whole sad kids thing.  I can listen to Bright Eyes too.”  But I didn’t.
         Evie lifted her head and kissed Danny on the lips.  She pushed his T-shirt up and over his head.  He pulled it off.  She ran her hands across his chest.  The way she touched him always amazed me.  She was so gentle, like she was handling a precious relic from a lost civilisation.  I wondered if anyone would ever touch me they way she touched him.  He ran his hands through her hair then looked up at the night sky.  A scattering of stars appeared and disappeared as fragments of clouds drifted by.  The lights from a lonely aeroplane blinked by.  “I love you,” he said.
         She kissed him again and whispered something in his ear I couldn’t hear.  Okay, that’s a lie.  I heard.  But I’m not telling. 

         Maeve was pretty drunk.  She stood by the indoor pool and squinted into the chlorine blue water.  Then she threw up.  Floating on the surface of the water her vomit was cherry red, the color of weird cocktails she’d been drinking all night, the color of home in a little kid’s painting.  She straightened up and sighed.  The party showed no sign of winding down.  After all, it wasn’t a school night.  She walked uncertainly through the crowds of kids, some she recognised from school, some of the guys gave her half hopeful smiles but she walked on, the light and the noise and the godawful nu-metal some retard had put on were all making her feel unsteady.  And all that vodka or whatever.  She walked straight through the house and out the front door.
         Standing outside in the cold air of the middle of the night made her feel suddenly very tired.  The wind blew through the tops of the trees, shaking the bare branches.  Maeve wondered vaguely whose house this was.  It had the mother of all driveways, stretching into the distance, the size of an interstate.  Maeve walked onto the driveway, and briefly knelt to feel the tarmac beneath her fingers.  It was then she saw the garage door was slightly ajar.  She went inside, pleased by the darkness.  Running her hands along the metal of the car hood she found the doorhandle.  It opened and she climbed inside.  She didn’t know much about cars, but she figured this one probably cost a good man’s wages.  It was the size of a house, or at least a duplex.  The leather of the seats smelt the way leather smells.  She stretched out on the back seat and closed her eyes.  For a while she imagined a life where she lived in this car, hiding out from the world.  Scavenging food from the house when it was empty, or maybe from an understanding maid with whom she’d strike up a mother-daughter relationship which would teach them both to love again (the maid having fled Guam after her only daughter was kidnapped by pirates).  With canned laughter ringing in her ears Maeve drifted into a semi-conscious sleep.  Unsure as to whether she was asleep or awake Maeve conducted conversations with the cast of her dreams.  A sixth grade teacher tried to teach her to cook lasagne.  One of her sisters (Maeve couldn’t tell which one) stood in line at the check-out at Wal-Mart singing something, possibly by the Bangles.  Maeve explained to several Party of Five cast members why she’d never really enjoyed the show.  They took notes. 
         Still asleep Maeve couldn’t tell if the girl was in her dreams or not.  The girl kept saying, “I’m not sure about this.”  She said it like about five times.  Then she said, “Wait.”  She said it pretty loud.  Maeve opened her eyes then, confused as to where she was and who was talking to her.