Silence Read online

  I can’t.

  I’m captivated by him.

  Lily sees him too. “Imagine that. SC is here. Staring. At. You. Again. Très predictable.”

  And that’s when I see the flicker in her eyes. It is gone almost as quickly as it appears. But not before I understand.

  Hayden is “nada importante” in Lily’s world. She doesn’t want him.

  But no, it’s not that. She doesn’t like him being interested in me. Not one bit. In Lily’s world, she should have a boyfriend before I do. Before the shy new girl. The girl who doesn’t even want a boyfriend.

  Lily rolls her eyes. Annoyed with this game of silence. “Speak,” she tells me. “Say something. Anything!”

  I look into his eyes, into the depths below the surface. I want to know more—need to know more—but I don’t say a word. Neither does Hayden.

  “N.B.,” I remind her softly. No boys.

  She knows my mantra, but she doesn’t agree with it. She gives me a long look. The kind only a best friend can give you. The kind of look that tells you they don’t believe you. I meet her eyes, and she sees it there. She squeezes my hand.

  She can tell that I am afraid of this feeling, of what it means. Someday Broadway, I tell myself. I let Lily pull me away.

  We find Connor. Lily isn’t silent. Lily isn’t afraid. She makes jokes, gives compliments. I watch in awe. She giggles, tilts her head to the side so her hair falls across her face. Lily looks so pretty when she smiles. She has perfect teeth and a wide, inviting grin. She tries on his baseball cap, poses in it. Then she plays with his hair, dubbing it “hat head.” She puts the cap back on Connor, leaving her perfectly manicured hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

  Other girls walk by and look at her enviously. She is where they want to be. Connor is handsome, super popular, with a deep, rich baritone voice. Captain of the football team. He has olive skin and dark hair that contrasts with Lily’s blondeness. Together they look like a Homecoming couple.

  I stand next to her, feeling like the frumpy best friend, listening to Lily speak to Connor in French. The lilting language sounds like a love song. He doesn’t understand a single word, of course, which makes it even more charming. He looks at her like she is a brand-new toy he wants. I stand there, bored, ignored. Wondering where Hayden is now. Wishing I wasn’t afraid. Wishing I had a little bit of Lily’s courage.

  Connor’s friends from the football team start joking around.

  “Who’s the hottie?” one asks as he joins the group. He pushes me out of the way to stand by Lily. Another one touches her hair. Lily giggles, relishing the attention.

  A shiver runs down my spine. A premonition. A warning.

  “Lily,” I whisper. “Maybe it’s time to go.”

  “N.O.Y.L.,” she hisses in Lilyspeak. I mentally translate: Not On Your Life. I shoot her a look of annoyance. This is not what I want to be doing right now.

  Connor claims Lily with an arm around her shoulders. One of the football players takes Connor’s baseball cap. They toss it around. Then they start trying to tackle one another. Before I know it, someone is pulling Connor toward the pool. He drags Lily with him, holding onto her for safety. They are at the edge of the pool. Lily is enjoying the game, and she pretends to protect Connor. Her arms are wrapped around him. She is still laughing.

  “Lily, I want to go. I have the show tomorrow,” I remind her.

  But she ignores me. Like she can’t hear me.

  I want to escape, to leave this place. But I can’t. Not now. Because in one instant, everything changes.

  “Hottie needs a cool down.” Five words alter everything.

  One of the football players picks up Lily and pretends to throw her in the pool. Lily plays along, flailing her arms and legs, but she is giggling. At the last second, he pulls her back. He hands her off to another player like a football. The guys line up so they can pass her around.

  “Lily, I need to go,” I call out, trying to get closer. Desperate to leave this party, to go home. And there’s something else—this inexplicable foreboding I cannot shake. The crowd moves closer to watch, and I am pushed to the side. Hemmed in by nameless faces laughing at—and with—my friend.

  Hollering mixes with the drumbeat, cocooning the party in discordant sound. I duck under arms and around shoulders, finally emerging near the edge of the pool. I am just in time to see two things: Lily lands in Connor’s arms, and Connor tosses her into the pool.

  Everyone starts clapping. Everyone except me. Lily surfaces and swims toward the edge. I reach out a hand, help her out of the water.

  “Can we please go now?” I whisper. Lily has curls plastered to her face, eyes dripping mascara tears. But she is smiling.

  “G.M.A.B.,” she hisses. Translation: Give Me A Break.

  It’s a standoff. I want to leave; Lily wants to stay.

  Connor moves toward Lily, arms open for a hug. “Forgive me?”

  “Not quite,” Lily slides around him, rejecting his embrace. She stifles a giggle as she shakes her wet curls at Connor. “How do you like it?” Then she pushes him toward the pool.

  I can’t watch anymore. “Then I’m leaving without you,” I tell her. I know it’s a violation of the Best Friend Code to abandon a BFF at a party, but Lily has left me no choice.

  Lily shrugs. “Nada importante.”

  I don’t know if this means I am not important, or that my leaving is not important. It stings either way. And either way, it’s my signal to go.

  Connor wrestles Lily back, easily swinging out of her grasp. “You’ll have to do better than that,” he teases. “Maybe you want to go in again.”

  Lily laughs and runs around Connor. She pushes him from the other side.

  I am still standing here. Why am I still standing here?

  I turn to go. I’ll have to call my mom to pick me up.

  Then Connor spins around. Pulling away from Lily, he collides with me.

  The force hits me sideways. I can’t catch myself. I am falling.

  The music is blaring. But I hear one voice.

  “St-st-el-la . . .”

  My head strikes concrete. The blow reverberates through me like a prelude to something ominous. And I know, but it’s too late. I scream. The sound is muffled. It comes out wrong.

  Water engulfs me.

  I’m drifting. Down, down, down.

  Weightless. And then there is blackness.

  Just blackness.

  Blond curls float like a halo around his head. His arms encircle me, lifting me as though I’m a feather. It’s so quiet here. I feel safe. Peaceful. Free.

  I let go and just be.

  One moment is all it takes

  — Hayden —

  “St-st-el-la!” I call out to her, try to warn her, but it’s too late. When I see her fall into the water, I don’t even think. I just dive in after her without waiting for anyone else. I expect to help her out, but she isn’t swimming. She is floating.

  Drifting. Motionless.

  Something is wrong. I sense it immediately. The water is murky, lit only from the lights above. Her hair spreads out like a dark cape around her shoulders. I reach for her and hold her in my arms. She is so light, so beautiful.

  I bring her up through the water. Out of the darkness to the light.

  I hear a buzzing sound like the humming of bees. When I break the surface, I realize.

  It’s not bees.

  It’s chaos. All eyes are fixed on me. Someone is shrieking. I recognize the voice of Stella’s friend, Lily.

  I gently carry Stella out of the pool, holding her tight against my wet shirt. Wishing I had a warm blanket to wrap her in.

  “St-st-el-la, breathe,” I whisper. I don’t know if anyone else tries to get close, to help. I don’t give them a chance. I learned CPR a long time ago, because in my life, emergencies are an everyday occurrence. I never imagined that one day I would use the skill at a high-school party.

  Her lips are blue. I lean over her still body
and listen for her breath.

  Nothing. I fit my mouth over hers. And I breathe for Stella.

  I will her to live. To come back to me.

  “Breathe,” I plead.

  Live.

  And then, as if she can hear me, she breathes. Water sputters in her throat. I turn her to the side to let the water spill out of her mouth. Someone cheers. Then I hear sirens. They silence us all.

  Someone hands me a towel. I lay it over Stella to tuck the warmth into her.

  That’s when I see blood seeping through her hair on the side of her head.

  “I need another towel,” I call out. It’s worse than I thought, but I know better than to panic. Staying calm in an emergency has saved my life more than once.

  So I stay in control and focus on what I need to do. Someone hands me another towel. I place one hand on her cheek. With the other I press the towel against her head and try to stop the bleeding.

  Then there is one moment—one silent moment—when she opens her eyes. They are deep and full. And she sees me. The past, the present, and a future that hasn’t even been written are there in her eyes. I am in her eyes. Then she closes them. Slips away from me.

  The paramedics arrive, and I have to back up. They thank me for my help, and then they take over. I don’t take my gaze off of Stella. Behind me, I can hear Lily crying and making a big scene about calling Stella’s parents.

  I just watch her. I want her to wake up again. To see me.

  But she doesn’t.

  The paramedics move her to a stretcher. They wrap her in a blanket and head toward the back gate. I move with them, not wanting to let Stella out of my sight.

  “I’d like to ride in the ambulance,” I tell one of them. The friendlier looking one. “So she isn’t alone.”

  “Only family’s allowed.” He raises an eyebrow, challenging me to say I am her brother, or her cousin. To lie. But I don’t lie. Ever. My mother lies with every single breath she takes, and I have vowed never to be like her. Even now, even when it matters.

  So I try for the truth instead. “Can you make an exception?” I plead. “Just this once?”

  He looks over at the other paramedic. “The kid did save her life,” he offers.

  The other paramedic finally nods.

  They let me ride in the ambulance with her. They give me a blanket, which surprises me, because I forgot I was wet. I sit beside her and hold her small, cold hand in mine. Her eyes are still closed. She hasn’t opened them. I don’t know if she can hear me, but I talk to her anyway.

  “St-st-el-la, it’s me, Hayden. You’re go-going to be o-okay. You g-got pushed into th-the pool and h-hit your head. B-but you’re o-okay. We’re go-going to the hospital. They’ll t-take care of y-you there.” Then, “I’m here.”

  I don’t speak after that; I just hold her hand. A mask covers her nose and mouth. Her skin is pale against the blue blanket tucked around her. Like moonlight against a midnight sky. Her lashes fan delicately across her cheeks. Everything about her is so still.

  They have bandaged her head. Bruises are already forming in patterns on her forehead. This is not how I imagined being with Stella. But here I am.

  Why am I doing this, letting myself get so close? It’s better if I keep to myself. It’s better not to let anyone in. Trust is synonymous with pain. And love is nothing more than a shiny, wrapped present that turns out to be empty inside.

  But from the first moment I saw her in the school hallway, I knew. Something was different. I was drawn to her. Not just because of her beauty—her long, dark hair, and her golden eyes. Not just because of her voice, which is so natural and pure it is like nature’s song. It’s something more. It’s as if an invisible chain binds us together. So even though I know I shouldn’t be reaching out to her, I can’t help myself.

  I may not believe in love, but I do believe in destiny. I was meant to be at the party tonight. I was meant to save her life. I knew it the moment she looked at me. I just don’t know why.

  NOT ME

  — Stella —

  I open my eyes. Everything’s blurry. I’m in a room I don’t recognize. Green walls, blinking machines. And I realize—this is a hospital.

  Dreams drape around the edges of my consciousness like sheer curtains. Confusing me. What am I doing here? I can’t remember.

  My mother sleeps in a chair next to my bed. She looks like she needs a shower.

  My mouth feels gummy. Dry. My head throbs. I smell like blood. Disgusting. My stomach rises to my mouth. I can taste the vomit. My eyelids are weighted down and achy. I lift my fingers and reach out for Mom’s hand. I brush it lightly. Her eyes flutter open. She sees me. Starts to cry.

  That’s when I remember. The party. The pool. Drifting into nothingness.

  Mom is saying something. Kissing my face.

  It’s only then I realize.

  The silence.

  I can’t hear her. I can’t hear anything.

  What’s happening? Why can’t I hear her? My mother’s mouth is moving, but it’s like someone pressed mute on the remote.

  I open my mouth to speak. “What happened?” I still can’t hear anything, so I say it louder. “What happened?!”

  Still nothing.

  I feel my voice rising in the back of my throat, gliding across my vocal chords, exploding out of me.

  “I can’t hear anything!”

  My mother stands. Her eyes wide, she reaches out for me and holds me tight. All I hear is silence.

  I squeeze her hand and close my eyes. Maybe it’s just a dream. A nightmare. If I can just wake up . . .

  When I open my eyes again, a nurse is here. My mother grips my hand. My father is speaking to the nurse. I see his lips moving, but I still hear nothing.

  Weird to see my parents in the same room.

  I float in and out. I can’t tell if I’m asleep or awake. Maybe I’m dead. Maybe this is heaven. It’s peaceful. Simple. Quiet.

  I see him again. Blond curls float like a halo around his head. His arms encircle me. Lift me and hold me close. I feel safe.

  I want to stay here forever.

  Walking an unfamiliar road

  — Hayden —

  I’ve been at the hospital for hours. Waiting. Here, there are no exceptions for me. Only family is allowed in the room. But I know she is going to be okay. I heard the doctor tell her parents. She is sleeping now.

  Her mother has been really kind to me. She thanked me for saving Stella. Hugged me, even. Her dad thanked me too, shaking my hand over and over like he didn’t know what else to do. Her little sister just looks at me like she can’t quite figure me out. But that’s okay, I can’t figure myself out either. Like why I am still sitting here, waiting for her to wake up.

  I sip the hot chocolate that one of the nurses brought me. I’ve read every magazine on the table, and I’ve watched the news on the television in the corner.

  Time passes slowly when you are waiting. I try not to think about other times I’ve been in the hospital. Those thoughts only make my chest hurt, like it’s in a vise being tightened and tightened until I can no longer breathe. Instead, I think of Stella. It’s way past midnight, almost morning, which means that tonight is the musical—her musical—but she won’t be on stage. After all her hard work, someone else will be Maria tonight. That will break her heart.

  I stand to throw out the paper cup, and that’s when I see her mother coming down the hallway toward me.

  “She’s still resting,” she tells me. Tears are in her eyes. “But I thought you might like to see her.”

  “But I thou-ought it w-was only f-family,” I manage. I hate my voice. It’s such a traitor. It betrays me over and over again.

  Stella’s mom doesn’t react to the sound of my stammering; she just nods. “I know they said that. But you’ve been here all night. Maybe if you could see her, you could go home and get some rest.”

  I nod and follow her back to Stella’s room. I stand in the doorway and see her in the giant hospi
tal bed. Her beautiful eyes are closed, but she doesn’t look peaceful. There are tubes in her arm, a mask over her face. Beeping machines monitoring her every breath, every heartbeat. It is cold in here. Stark.

  Suddenly, I am hit with a barrage of memories coming so quickly, I cannot sort through them; I can only feel their impact as they hit me. That familiar pain shoots through me like an arrow, leaving me alive but wounded. Damaged.

  For a split second, I do not see Stella in the hospital bed—I see myself. And I am all alone with my broken limbs and bruised face. Grandfather would say time is the great healer. But after all these years, I am still a battered ten-year-old boy lying in a hospital bed. All alone.

  I am startled by a touch on my arm. I turn my head to see Stella’s mom beside me.

  “P-Please don’t le-leave her a-alone,” I plead.

  “I won’t,” she promises. “Hayden, thank you for everything you did for Stella.” Her voice catches, and she begins to tear up. “I am so grateful to you. If you hadn’t been there . . .” Her voice trails off. She doesn’t need to finish. We can both imagine what might have happened.

  Stella is lucky to have a mother who loves her so much. For a split second, I wish she was my mother. Standing in a hospital room, crying because she might have lost me. And grateful because I am still here.

  I blink away the thought before it takes hold. Because if I have learned anything, it’s that there is no sense wishing for things that can never be.

  “Th-thank you for let-letting me s-see h-her,” I say.

  “Please go home and get some rest. You can come back in a little while and see her again. Maybe she will be awake by then.”

  “Okay,” I answer. I don’t want to leave, but I am still in the same clothes, and I stink of chlorine.

  “Is there someone who can come get you? I can have Stella’s father drive you home,” she offers.

  “My gr-grand-father,” I say. My grandfather will come and get me. He already knows I am here.