I guess I was expecting him to call me and chase me and try to win me back, make me understand what had happened and why he had lied. But no call came. There was no mail call either, just a strange and quiet void, snow falling, as silent as before those letters had ever arrived.
I wondered if he’d gotten my letter. And since it didn’t mention anything about the accident, I wondered if he was angry. Or maybe he’d moved on already. Found some prep school girl in a plaid skirt and a crewneck cashmere sweater and expensive boots who’d also been sent far away from home. A girl as perfect on the outside and as blue inside as Connor was. I pictured them listening to My Chemical Romance late at night on the school record player and cutting the insides of each other’s forearms with razor blades.
I pictured them needing each other.
No call, all lies, so why not go to the movies with Michael? My parents were thrilled when I told them I was going out. They practically pushed me out the car door onto the street when they dropped me off.
So here we were: at a horror movie from the fifties. House of Wax. Chosen by Dee-Dee, of course. (WWRW: What Would Rizzo Watch?) So: A wax museum, a house on fire, a crippled, burned man who rebuilds the museum by killing people and using their dead bodies. First one ever in 3D. Did that make it scarier? It was all lost on me. Once it would have sent me to the café next door, but now it just creeped me out. I had lost most kinds of fear.
What made it even less scary was that we had to go in the daytime. Because after 9:00 p.m. it turned into a place where you could drink beer while watching the burned man kill people.
I felt Michael’s hand reach for mine, and I took it. Perhaps, I thought, I could live my life in the old way, at school, feeling lucky that princely Michael L might pick me, even if it was because I was the sick girl. Hadn’t that been why Connor chose me? Sickness: a magnet. Our fingers interlocked. I could feel Michael’s smooth nail with my thumb, normal nails, not ripped at the cuticles and bitten to the quick. He put his other arm around me and I leaned into him.
Michael’s hand on my shoulder. He brought me closer and we started to kiss. It was long and slow and I will say this again: Michael L is an amazing kisser. Not a lot of slobber. A little tongue, just enough. I think we kissed well together, actually.
It was nothing like with Connor; there was nothing serious about it. And then I sensed his hand along my shirt again. I sat up straight. I looked up at the screen at some girl realizing her dead friend was already dead, and then at Kenickie, who was practically nailing Rizzo to the seat, fifties drive-in style.
“Hey,” I said to Michael as he leaned back into his chair. He snapped his head in a way that moved his hair out of his face. Michael was all-over adorable, and I don’t know what he was doing with me. “I’m going to wait outside.”
“Are you joking?” he asked me.
“I scare easily!” I said, laughing.
“That,” Michael said, “is truth.”
“Ha-ha. Come on,” I told him. “I just can’t. Understand.”
I feel like the entire movie theater was listening to us as they gazed at the display that was Dee and “K.”
“Is it because you don’t feel well?”
I shook my head, but not sure he could see that in the dark. I know he was thinking, why else would freakish Lizzie Stoller not want to be felt up by me?
“I’ll go with you.” He looked over at our friends and rolled his eyes, which caught the light of the gruesome scene. “What, I’m supposed to sit with these guys? Please.”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
We grabbed our jackets and shuffled out of our aisle and went out the side of the theater. Momentarily blinded by the shock of the sunlight, I heard the door shut loudly and permanently behind us. I turned my face toward the sun.
“Okay, Lizzie, spit it out.”
“Spit what out?” I shielded my eyes.
“What’s up? I know you like me.”
“Oh really,” I said. I kept my eyes shielded and now looked up at him and smiled. My first post-hospital flirt. I admit it felt nice to be free of everything, what had happened to me, what was happening to Connor, what would happen to us both. “I know you never liked me.” Post-hospital rules: say anything.
“That’s not true,” he said.
“It’s not like there weren’t other opportunities. For years. So why now?”
“It’s just now for me,” he said.
“Hmmm.”
“You know the thing I said about absence.”
“Hmmm.”
“Is it because you’re still sick? Like, do you feel sick now?” Again he swept his hair out of his face with a flick of his head. It was starting to look like a spasm.
That’s how it is, right? So easy to flip over. Michael from beautiful perfect to freakish and hideous. One small move and anyone can cross a line.
“Nah,” I said. “I feel okay. I’m just not ready.” Connor lied and he was sort of a criminal, but I couldn’t let go of the thought of him, the maybe of him. I didn’t mention him to Michael, though. If I’m being perfectly honest, I think I was also keeping my options a little bit open.
“Well, the night is young,” he said.
“So young it’s day.” I kicked at the building with the toe of my sneaker.
“We could still hang out. What do you want to do? Where should we go?”
“Hey,” I said. “Michael? Can we go to a pet store?”