Delirium (Delirium 1)

For standing me up. One corner of his mouth hitches higher, and again I have the feeling that hes sharing some delicious secret with me, that hes trying to tell me something. You were a no-show at Back Cove that day.

I feel a burst of triumphhe was waiting for me at Back Cove! He did want me to meet him! At the same time the anxiety blooms inside of me. He wants something from me. Im not sure what it is, but I can sense it, and it makes me afraid.

So? He folds his arms and rocks back on his heels, still smiling. Are you going to apologize, or what?

His easiness and self-assurance aggravate me, just like they did at the labs. Its so unfair, so different from how I feel, like Im about to have a heart attack, or melt into a puddle.

I dont apologize to liars, I say, surprised by how steady my voice sounds.

He winces. Whats that supposed to mean?

Come on. I roll my eyes, feeling more and more confident by the second. You lied about seeing me at evaluations. You lied about recognizing me. Im ticking his lies off on my fingers. You lied about even being inside the labs on Evaluation Day.

Okay, okay. He holds up both hands. Im sorry, okay?

Look, Im the one who should apologize. He stares at me for a second and then sighs. I told you, security isnt allowed in the labs during evaluations. To keep the process pure or something, I dont know. But I really needed a cup of coffee, and theres this machine on the second floor of the C complex that has the good kind, with real milk and everything, so I used my code to get in. Thats it. End of story. And afterward I had to lie about it. I could lose my job. And I only work at the stupid labs to subsidize my school . . . He trails off. For once he doesnt look confident. He looks worried, like hes scared I might actually tell on him.

So why were you on the observation deck? I press on.

Why were you watching me?

I didnt even make it to the second floor, he says. He is staring at me closely, as though judging my reaction. I came inside andand I just heard this crazy noise. That rushing, roaring sound. And something else, too.

Screaming or something.

I close my eyes briefly, recalling the feeling of the burning white lights, my impression of hearing the ocean pounding outside the labs, of hearing my mother scream across the distance of a decade. When I open them again, Alex is still watching me.

Anyway, I had no idea what was going on. I thoughtI dont know, its stupidbut I thought maybe the labs were under attack or something. And then as Im standing there, all of a sudden theres, like, a hundred cows charging me. . . . He shrugs. There was a staircase to my left. I freaked out and booked it. Figured cows dont climb stairs. A smile appears again, this time fleeting, tentative. I ended up on the observation deck.

A perfectly normal, reasonable explanation. I feel relieved, and less frightened of him now. At the same time theres something working under my chest, a dull feeling, a disappointment. And some stubbornness, a part of me that still doubts him. I remember the way he looked on the observation deck, head tilted back, laughing; the way he winked at me. The way he lookedamused, confident, happy. Totally unafraid.

A world without fear . . .

So you dont know anything about how . . . how it happened? I cant believe Im being so bold. I ball up my fists and squeeze, hoping he doesnt notice the sudden strangled sound of my voice.

The mix-up in the deliveries, you mean? He says it smoothly, without a pause or a break in his voice, and the last of my doubts vanish. Just like any cured, he doesnt question the official story. I wasnt in charge of signing for deliveries that day. The guy who wasSal was fired. Youre supposed to check the cargo. I guess he skipped that step. He cocks his head to one side, spreads his hands. Satisfied now?

Satisfied, I say. But the pressure in my chest is still there. Even though earlier I was desperate to be out of the house, now I just wish I could blink and be home, sit up in bed, pushing the covers off of my legs, realizing that everything the party, seeing Alexwas a dream.

So . . . ? He tilts his head back toward the barn. The band is playing something loud and fast paced. I dont know why the music appealed to me before. It just seems like noise nowrushing noise. Think we can get closer without getting trampled?

I ignore the fact that he has just said we, a word that for some reason sounds amazingly appealing when pronounced with his lilting, laughing accent. Actually, I was just heading home. I realize Im angry at him without knowing whyfor not being what I thought he was, I guess, even though I should be grateful that hes normal, and cured, and safe.

Heading home? he repeats disbelievingly. You cant go home.

Ive always been careful not to let myself give in to feelings of anger or irritation. I cant afford to at Carols house. I owe her too muchand besides, after the few tantrums I threw as a child, I hated the way she looked at me sideways for days, as though analyzing me, measuring me. I knew she was thinking, Just like her mother. But now I give in, let the anger surge. Im sick of people acting like this world, this other world, is the normal one, while Im the freak. Its not fair: like all the rules have suddenly been changed and somebody forgot to tell me.

I can, and I am. I turn around and start heading up the hill, figuring hell leave me alone. To my surprise, he doesnt.

Wait! He comes bounding up the hill after me.

What are you doing? I whirl around to face him again, surprised by how confident I sound, considering that my heart is rushing, tumbling. Maybe this is the secret to talking to boysmaybe you just have to be angry all the time.

What do you mean? Were both slightly out of breath from hoofing it up the hill, but he still manages a smile.

I just want to talk to you.

Youre following me. I cross my arms, which helps me feel as though Im closing off the space between us.

Youre following me again.

There it is. He starts backward, and I get a momentary, sick twinge of pleasure that Ive surprised him. Again?

he repeats. Im glad that for once Im not the one stuttering, or struggling to find words.

The words fly out: I think its a little bit strange that I go pretty much my whole life without seeing you, and then all of a sudden I start seeing you everywhere. I hadnt planned on saying thisit actually hadnt struck me as strangebut the second the words are out of my mouth I realize theyre true.

I think hes going to be angry, but to my surprise he tips his head back and laughs, long and loud, moonlight turning the curve of his cheeks and chin and nose silver. Im so surprised by his reaction I just stand there, staring at him. Finally he looks at me. Even though I still cant make out his eyesthe moon draws everything starkly, highlighting it in bright, crystalline silver or leaving it in blacknessI have the impression of heat, and light, the same impression I had that day at the labs.

Maybe you just havent been paying attention, he says quietly, rocking forward slightly on his heels.

I take an unconscious, half-shuffling step backward. I find myself frightened by his closeness; by the fact that even though our bodies are separated by several inches I feel as though were touching.

Whatwhat do you mean?

I mean that youre wrong. He pauses, watching me, and I struggle to keep my face composed, even though I can feel my left eye straining and fluttering. Hopefully in the darkness he cant tell. Weve seen each other plenty.

I would remember if wed met before.

I didnt say that wed met. He doesnt try to close the new distance between us and Im grateful, at least, for that. He chews on the corner of a lipa gesture that makes him look younger. Let me ask you a question,

he goes on. How come you dont run past the Governor anymore?

Without meaning to I gasp a little. How do you know about the Governor?

I take classes at UP, he says. University of PortlandI remember now, the afternoon we walked up to see the ocean from the back of the lab complex, hearing bits of his conversation floating back to me on the wind. He did say he was a student. I worked at the Grind last semester, in Monument Square. I used to see you all the time.

My mouth opens and shuts. No words come out; my brain goes on lockdown whenever I need it the most. Of course I know the Grind; Hana and I used to run past it two, maybe three times a week, watching the college students float in and out like drifting snowflakes, blowing the steam from the top of their cups. The Grind looks out onto a small square, all cobblestone, called Monument Square: It marked the halfway point of one of the six-mile routes I used to do all the time.

In its center is a statue of a man, half-eroded from snow and weather and scrawled over with a few looping curls of graffiti. He is striding forward, one hand holding his hat on his head so that it looks like he is walking through a horrible storm, or a headwind. His other fist is extended in front of him. Its obvious that he was, in the distant past, holding somethingprobably a torch but at some point that portion of the statue was broken or stolen. So now the Governor strides forward with an empty fist, a circular hole cut in his hand, a perfect hiding place for notes and secret stuff. Hana and I used to check his fist sometimes, to see if there was anything good inside. But there wasntjust a few pieces of wadded-up chewing gum and some coins.

I dont actually know when Hana and I started calling him the Governor, or why. The wind and rain has rubbed the plaque at the base of the statue indecipherable. No one else calls him that. Everyone else just says, The statue at Monument Square. Alex must have overheard us talking about the Governor one day.

Alex is still looking at me, waiting, and I realize I never answered his question. I have to switch my routes up,

I say. I probably havent run past the Governor since March or April. It gets boring. And then, because I cant help it, I squeak out, You remember me?

He laughs. You were pretty hard to miss. You used to run around the statue and do this jumping, whooping thing.

Heat creeps up my neck and cheeks. I must be going a deep red again, and I thank God for the fact that weve moved away from the stage lights. I completely forgot; I used to jump up and try to high-five the Governor as Hana and I ran past, a way of psyching myself up for the run back to school. Sometimes we would even scream out, Halena! We must have looked completely crazy.