Ill call you guys later, I tossed back over my shoulder as I heard Mom say my name again.
But I was hurrying toward the elevator, hoping Id get there before the tears did, and before either of them caught up to me And I made it, but barely. I actually managed to get past the doorman and into the driveway in front of the building, under the protective canopy, before I burst.
And then my face melted. Or at least thats what it felt like. The tears in my eyes overflowed, coursing hotly down my cheeks. I couldnt see anything in front of or around me, because it all kind of disappeared into a hot mess of little dots and smears, like the Impressionistic paintings in the nineteenth-century wing in the Metropolitan, as the tears took over everything. Im pretty sure there was snot involved, too.
And even as I was doing it"crying, I mean"I knew it was ridiculous. I never actually liked going to Grandmas that much, except for the beach and her pool. Her condo was way too small for the four of us plus her, and I always had to sleep on a foldout cot that was too short for me, and she gave us frozen bagels for breakfast instead of the real kind you could get here in New York, still warm from the oven, crusty on the outside, and warm and gooey in the middle.
But somehow, being told I couldnt go, because I was dead Well, it just made me wish Id stayed down at the bottom of the ocean last night. It had been so nice down there, so quiet and calm and, okay, cold, but still. No one had been demanding things of me, like Climb This Cliff, Find My Missing Mom, Wear This Diamond Bra, or Dont Go to Florida with Us, Youre Dead, Remember?
Although, I guess in a way, I was at the bottom of that ocean again. I was just as cold, anyway, and just as alone"except for Cosy"and soon Id have to go out into that sleet, and then Id be just as wet, since I didnt bring an umbrella.
Suddenly, I decided I couldnt take it. I just couldnt take it! I knew I must have looked like an idiot, but I didnt care. There was no one around. Only a fool would have been out in weather like this, anyway. I decided just to stand there and cry. At least until a cab went by and I could try to hail it.
Because no way was I walking home in this c.r.a.ppy weather.
I was standing there in front of my parents building, crying and feeling sorry for myself, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Thinking it was Eddie the doorman, asking if I wanted him to flag down a cab"which, good luck finding one in this weather"I turned my head, sniffling. I still couldnt exactly see because of my face melting, but I could sort of vaguely make out a masculine shape beside me.
What? I asked, sniffling.
Nikki? a familiar voice asked. As familiar to me, almost, as my own. Or as familiar as my own voice used to be, before my larynx was crushed beneath three hundred pounds of plasma television.
It wasnt Eddie. It was someone else who lived in my parents building. Id just forgotten that little fact during the pity party Id been throwing for myself.
And for a second, I nearly choked on my own tears.
Because it was Christopher.
EIGHT.
GREAT. THERES NOTHING A GIRL WANTS more than the guy shes been crushing on since, like, the sixth grade or whatever to find her standing outside his building on a miserable wintry Sunday afternoon, sobbing her guts out.
There was absolutely no way I could think of to get out of this one, either, other than the obvious"suicide. I contemplated simply running away from him and throwing myself under the first cab I saw speeding down Bleecker Street. But I wasnt sure Id be able to see clearly enough, what with the sleet and my sungla.s.ses and tears and all. I figured I might just end up throwing myself under a parked car.
Besides, I had Cosabella with me. And I wouldnt want anything bad to happen to her.
I reached up and hastily swiped at my face with my gloved hands, hoping the suede would absorb some of the moisture spilling out of my eyes so I could at least see him properly.
This turned out to be a huge mistake, however. Because it revealed that Christopher was standing there in his leather jacket (when had he gotten one of those?) looking down at me (unlike my dad, Christopher was not shorter than Nikki Howard) with an adorable mixture of confusion mingled with concern on his face. He was obviously just coming home from somewhere and, in typical male fashion, had remembered to wear neither a scarf nor a hat, so the sleet had caused his short blond hair to stick to his head, and the cold had turned the tips of his ears and his cheeks bright red.
This only made him look cuter, however, if such a thing was possible. I mean, even his lips had turned red, which I know was a weird thing to notice about a guy"much less think looked cute.
But then, Id had my brain taken out of my body and put into someone elses. I was about as weird as you can get.
Hey, hows it going? Christopher asked. Hed barely said three words to me since Id slapped a set of glow-in-the-dark dinosaur stickers down in front of him in the schools computer lab, hoping hed get the message that I was really his best friend trapped in a supermodels body (he didnt). But he seemed to take the fact that Id just shown up in front of his apartment building, weeping behind my Gucci sungla.s.ses, in stride. Cold out today, huh?
Um, I said. Yeah. I tried not to look at his lips. I looked at the canopy stretching over the apartment buildings driveway instead. Theyd painted the facade an ugly-looking gray. The paint was flaking off on parts of it.
Were you shopping or something around here? Christopher asked me. I dont suppose he could figure out any other reason why Id be in his neighborhood. It would never occur to him that I might be stalking him, or standing here thinking about how much I wanted to kiss him. He wasnt the kind of guy who would think that girls fantasized about those kind of things. At least, not about him.
That was one of the reasons I loved him. When I wasnt thinking about how much Id like to strangle him for being so dense as to not realize I was me, Em Watts. Just inside somebody else.
Yeah, I said, staring at a particularly large flake of paint peeling off above his head. Yeah, I was. But.i.ts sleeting so badly. And therewere no cabs. Did that sound reasonable? Would he believe it?
Apparently so.
And you didnt think to bring an umbrella when you went out, Christopher said, with a little smile. He seemed to believe it. Just like me.
I couldnt help lowering my gaze to his hands. They were gloveless and empty and huge. And would look so much better if they were somewhere on my person. I knew exactly where, too.
G.o.d, what was wrong with me? I used to think it was just Nikkis body that was wanton. Now I was starting to wonder if my brain was catching up to it.
You want to borrow one? Christopher asked. I mean, I do actually own one.
I dragged my gaze from his fingers to his face. One what? What was wrong with me? I couldnt even follow a simple conversation anymore. Either Stark Enterprises had attached a few wires wrong when theyd put my brain into Nikkis head, or I had it really, really bad for this guy.
An umbrella, Christopher said, looking down at my feet. And I think theres something wrong with your dog.
I glanced down at Cosabella. She was trembling all over from the cold because shed been standing with her paws in an icy puddle, and Id been too busy crying"and l.u.s.ting after my secret crush"to notice.
Oh! I bent down to scoop her into my arms. Cosy! Youre freezing!
Why dont you come on up, Christopher said, and Ill get you an umbrella and you can let your dog defrost for a minute before you both head out again?
I was looking down at Cosabella when he said this, holding her close to me in the hope that my body heat would eventually warm her enough so that shed stop shaking.
So I was pretty sure he didnt see the blush that flooded my cheeks. At least, I hoped not. It was a happy blush, since this stroke of luck"his inviting me upstairs to his apartment, where I hadnt been since before the accident"was totally unexpected, considering the sucky twenty-four hours Id had up till then.
I guess, I murmured into the puff of fur growing out of the top of Cosabellas head. Thanks.
It wouldnt be cool, of course, if I let on how I felt about his invitation"I wanted to shriek with joy and dance around like a maniac. I had to act calm as we walked by Eddie the doorman. I prayed as Christopher and I pa.s.sed that Eddie wouldnt say anything like, Forget something? Because how would I explain to Christopher what Id been doing in his building a few minutes ago?
On the other hand, maybe it would be a good opener. I could be like, Well, the truth is, Christopher, I was here seeing my mom and sister. Yeah, they live in this building. Because theyre Em Wattss mom and sister. Get it? GET IT?
But Eddie was preoccupied with a tenant who had called down to complain about something, so Christopher and I just breezed by and managed to get on the elevator without incident.
It was a slightly awkward, silent ride up, but Christopher broke the tension by looking over at me as I was clutching Nikki Howards dog, and saying, So. You dont really go everywhere in a limo, do you?
I smiled some more into Cosys fur. I still hadnt taken off my sungla.s.ses"I didnt want him to see the full extent of what had been going on under there. It was possible Id escape all this without his ever knowing Id been standing down there bawling my eyes out.
I just said, Uh, no.
I was obviously not at my witty best when I was around Christopher. Which made no sense, because I used to be able to talk nonstop around him. This was a problem that I was going to have to do something about one day.
But right then, seeing as how I was just barely hanging on emotionally, I figured monosyllabic answers were okay. Now was really not the time to dive into the whole Guess what? Im not really Nikki Howard thing. Not when I was on the verge of bursting into hysterical sobs"or laughter"at any moment.
Yeah, Christopher said, nodding. I figured the rumors were bull.
I smiled enigmatically"as enigmatically as I could. I mean, lets face it: I was on the elevator"with Christopher! I was going to Christophers apartment on a Sunday afternoon! It was just like old times! It was hard to be enigmatic when I was kind of kvelling with happiness.
The elevator doors slid open on Christophers floor"which, thankfully, was seven stories up from my parents floor, so I was unlikely to run into either my mother or Frida"and he said, Its to the right, and held the door open for me. Christopher had never held doors open for me back when Id been in my old body. Not that I would have expected him to. It was justwell, it kind of caused my happiness to dry up and make me realize This wasnt old times. It wasnt old times at all.
Its right here, Christopher said, pulling out his keys.
Christopher threw open the door and I went inside, nearly tearing up again at the familiar sight of piled-up newspapers everywhere (the Commander read every newspaper he could get his hands on in the morning, so hed know exactly what was going on in the world. I always thought it would be easier to use the Internet, but he read that, too) and the faint scent of leather (most of the Maloneys furniture was upholstered in soft English leather, handed down from some ancient estate long since entailed away from their branch of the family, and was much too large for a tiny faculty apartment).
Here, Christopher said. Let me take your coat.
Trying to hide my shy smile (I know! I felt shy! Around Christopher, of all people!), I pulled off my gloves and began untwining my scarf, then shrugged off my leather jacket"but not before kneeling down to help Cosabella off with hers first.
The one thing I didnt take off, when I was done disrobing both of us, and had handed everything to Christopher to stack on the antique bench in the front entranceway, were my sungla.s.ses. My excitement wasnt the only thing I was trying to hide.
Have a seat, Christopher said when I followed him into the living room. He shoved a stack of the Times, The Wall Street Journal, and The Washington Post out of the way, just letting them crash to the floor, to make room for me on the cracked brown leather couch. Do you want some coffee or tea or hot chocolate or something?
Refreshments. He was offering me refreshments. Like I was a real guest.
Which in a way I was, I guess. I always should have beenEm Watts, girl. Not Em Watts, s.e.xless friend from seven floors down.
For some reason, however, that had never seemed to occur to Christopher. Not until I started wearing much tighter shirts. In someone elses body.
Uh, some tea would be great, I said, putting Cosy down. She was better now that we were inside, where it was warm. Shed stopped shaking and was looking around for a place to curl up and take a nap. Could I just use your bathroom for a second?
Christopher said sure and showed me where it was, and I followed him, pretending I didnt know where I was going, even though Id been in his bathroom a thousand times before.
Once safely inside, I shut the door and whipped off my sungla.s.ses and squinted at my reflection in the shaving cream-flecked mirror above the sink (Christopher and his dad had a housekeeper, but she only visited every other week. Or at least she used to. Judging by the mess, it was hard to tell if she still came at all anymore).
Actually, I didnt look that bad. You could barely tell Id been crying. I wiped off a little mascara where it had smudged. Just a wave of the lip gloss from my Miu Miu tote (which I really only kept in there to prevent chapping, because you dont know how the makeup artists get on your case when you presented yourself to them with chapped lips, which they then had to exfoliate), and I was good to go. I gave myself a smile for luck, and noticed how the bathroom smelled like Barbasol, Christophers shaving gel of choice. I stood there and inhaled it for a while, because it smelled like him.
Yeah. I was that far gone. I couldnt even be mad at him for treating Nikki better than he had ever treated me. Because I realized he just didnt know any better. He hadnt understood what hed had in me until I was gone.
Except that I wasnt gone. That was what he hadnt figured out yet. Though how I was going to let him know that"in a way he was going to be able to comprehend"was what I hadnt figured out yet.
But checking for tearstains wasnt the only reason Id gone into the bathroom, of course. I reached into my tote and pulled out my pocket bug detector and turned it on. It seemed almost too much to hope that Stark hadnt hit the Maloneys place as well as my parents. But since I hadnt yet been able to establish any kind of meaningful contact with Christopher, there was always a chance they hadnt bothered to slip any surveillance equipment in here.
Exceptthat they had. At least if the antennae were working properly. The signal was strong and steady. Even after I smacked it a few times.
Geez! Thanks, Stark. Thanks a lot.
Sighing, I put away the detector, washed my hands, and came out. Well, at least Id dodged a bullet in the form of any embarra.s.sing questions about why I might have been weeping. Christopher couldnt have noticed my little crying jag outside.
So, why, Christopher asked, after Id settled onto the couch and hed come out of the kitchen with a steaming mug of mint tea for me in one hand and a cup of coffee for himself in the other, were you crying down there, anyway?
NINE.
I STARED AT HIM.
Great. I wasnt going to tell him. I wasnt going to tell him a thing.
I wasnt crying, I said, taking the mug from him. Oh, excellent response, Em! Score one for you.
Yeah, you were, he said. He sat down on the other end of the couch, after first kicking off the Los Angeles Times and the Seattle Post-Intelligencer. Cosabella, who had made herself at home on the cushion between us, watched the individual sections of the paper fall to the parquet floor, with her ears perked in curiosity. I mean, I guess you could try to say that your eyes were just watering with the cold. But it looked pretty obvious to me that you were crying.
I stared at him speechlessly. What was there for me to say, after all? I was busted. I took a tiny sip of the hot tea and hoped to find inspiration in its mint flavor. Exceptno. Nothing.
You dont have to tell me if you dont want to, of course, Christopher went on. But I dont see what youve got to lose. I dont know anybody you know, so its not like Im going to tell anyone.
I looked around the apartment, half afraid a paparazzo or even someone from Stark was going to pop out from behind a piece of furniture and snap my photo. Christopher had barely spoken three sentences to me since Id come out of my coma and started attending Tribeca Alternative again. Why would they put transmitters in his home? Even Stark could see he was more interested in McKayla Donofrio than he was in me. What was their problem?
My dads at his weekend office hours right now, Christopher said, seeming to read my thoughts"although not entirely correctly. Last day before finals. All his students are panicked.
Oh, I said. I wished hed read my other thoughts. The ones where I wanted him to put down that coffee mug and kiss me. And realize that I was his old friend Em and not Nikki Howard. Although that might put a damper on the whole kissing scenario, since Christopher had never expressed the slightest interest in making out with me when Id been alive. In my old body, I mean.
Its just, I said slowly. Why not tell him? Why not tell him I was his old friend Em, that I wasnt dead after all? I couldnt tell him verbally, because somewhere in this apartment was a listening device. But I could write the truth down, couldnt I? Then destroy the evidence when I was through?
Yeah, why not? Christopher wouldnt tell anyone.
Except his dad, of course. Who was such a conspiracy theorist that, when he found out his apartment was bugged"as he would, since Id have to tell Christopher thats why I was writing, instead of just telling him, my secret"hed surely insist on going to every news organization in the country with the story. The Commander hated Stark almost as much as I did. There was no way Christopher would ever get him to keep quiet about what theyd done to meor the fact that theyd bugged his apartment.
And then Mom and Dad would be ruined, if not made to serve actual jail time, for breaking the contract theyd signed. Those millions of dollars theyd have to pay back for my surgery, legal fees, and fines? Even Nikki Howard didnt have that much in her bank accountnot that Id have access to that money anymore, after the Commander went to CNN.
No. Just no. I couldnt tell Christopher the truth. Not now.
And the way things were going? Maybe not ever.
Its just, I said again, stalling for time. What could I say? What? How aboutwell, some semblance of the truth, I guess? Just not the whole truth. I got some bad news today.
Really? Christopher looked concerned. This was how he used to look when Id tell him about a bad grade, or a fight with my sister, or my character losing a life on Journeyquest.
Thats when I realizedWhat was I saying? I couldnt tell him about what had just happened with my momthat I was upset that I couldnt go to Florida for winter break with my family. Because they werent supposed to be my family anymore.
But I had to say something now that Id blurted out the thing about getting some bad news. Only what? That Im a Stark Angel? Oh, G.o.d, noChristopher wouldnt have the slightest bit of sympathy. Anything but that. But what else?
My moms missing, I heard myself say.