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the blackboard with his chalk, waiting to do another box.
Jana pointed to the back of the room and said,  Mars
Dreamcote.
A murmur passed through the classroom. Students
leaned toward each other to speak in whispers. Christie s
and Beatrice s mouths fell open. Arva dropped her hands
on her desk in disgust.
Wyatt, leaning sideways from his seat on his good leg,
gave Mars a little shove. The dreadfully handsome blue-
eyed Slider, who had seen Jana in her underwear and
socks on her first day in Dead School, made his way to the
front of the room. Jana tugged her hair behind her ear and
followed the Virgins out the classroom door. Mars quickly
caught up.
Chapter Twelve
MARS SURPRISED JANA.
He didn t get on the bus when she did. Jana found a seat
in the middle and watched him out the window. Mars circled
the side of the bus and darted through an opening in the
chain-link fence that surrounded Dead School. With her
thumb, Jana played Michael s ring back and forth on the
third finger of her left hand.
Mars bent over to retrieve something in the grass at the
base of a tree across the road. He tucked it inside his shirt
and hurried back.
Jana watched him carefully. There was restrained power
in his movements. It was there when he stood still too, when
he leaned against something in the hall or against the rail of
the fire-escape balcony.
Like the sky, she thought. It was always about to move,
about to act. Jana wished she could copy the unreleased
power that was in his every moment. If she could move like
that, stand still like that onstage or in front of a camera, no
one would be able to take their eyes away from her when
she performed.
Jana was old enough to be honest with herself. She was
attracted to Mars. And he was attracted to her.
She wasn t pretty enough to attract every boy she met.
And she rarely sought to sparkle in person. She d just come
up short. Jana kept her brown hair in a simple cut so she
could hide, when she needed to, by ducking her head. She
almost never wore earrings or a necklace. She never tied
her hair back to show off the long clean line of her arching
neck.
When she was acting, it was different. Jana held her face
upright, her shoulders back, her entire self on display until
what beauty she possessed sparkled like a star. She didn t
mind being plain. Or ugly. As an actress, Jana could be
either one. That s why she liked acting. She didn t have to
be as beautiful as her mother.
Mars wasn t attracted to Jana the way men were
attracted to her mother. Yet something drew him to her.
Jana could feel it, but she couldn t put her finger on it. It was
deeper than some boy thinking she was cute. It was more
like she was food and he was hungry. It was as if Mars
needed her to survive.
This was why she had selected him to come with her
today. He needed to see Jana with Michael. With Michael,
she was more than Jana Webster. She was bigger. Bigger
than life. Bigger than death. Jana and Michael were forever.
Mars needed to know, to see it for himself.
 Got your cell? he asked, sitting next to her on the bus.
Jana fished her phone from her skirt pocket and handed
it to Mars. She didn t need it as urgently as before. She
would be seeing Michael soon. She could say everything
she wanted to say in person.
As the bus began to move, Mars pried the cover off one
side of her phone and flicked out the flat square battery. He
reached inside his shirt and removed a fresh battery from a
plastic Baggie. He slipped it into place and snapped the
cover back on to her phone.
 Now, don t open it and don t turn it on, Mars said,
handing the phone back to her. His fingers touched hers
and a river of warmth surged through her arm.
 It won t work on the bus, he added.  You ll just drain the
battery. Once we re off the bus, I ll show you how we can
make it work.
Jana fumbled the phone down into her skirt pocket and
leaned back against the seat. Being next to Mars reminded
her how cold she felt. Jana wanted Mars to drape his arm
over her shoulders. But only for the warmth of it.
She tried to think of something else. Her funeral was on
the horizon. Michael was waiting for her. Michael would be
warm too.
They stood in front of the funeral chapel.
The street was lined with cars. Classmates stood in the
small groups along the sidewalk. There were people Jana
thought she recognized but didn t really know. Someone
was dressed in a cheerleading uniform.
 It s like that when you die in high school, Mars said.
 Everyone goes to your funeral.
 Look at her, Jana said, pointing at the cheerleader.
 How stupid is that?
Mars walked beside her as she climbed the steps to the
ornate double doors.
 You don t even know their names, Mars said.  It s like
that.
 Some of them, she said.  I know some of them. I ve
seen them all before.
Jana reached for the handle on one of the doors but
couldn t get her fingers around it. She tried the other one.
Her grasp wouldn t work.
 What s wrong with me? Jana mumbled to herself.
Mars opened the door for her. She could have walked
through the door without opening it at all, but life-
conditioned habits died hard.
Jana rushed in. The hallway was filled with flowers. And
people. Boys in shirts and neckties, and girls in dresses
and heels. A few adults were among them. They spoke in
whispers. Someone laughed at something that was said.
Some of the girls were crying.
Music played in another room. Jana moved toward it.
These doors were open. Inside, she stopped short. Mars
stood behind her. Jana felt his hand on her shoulder. She
spiked with heat.
Folding chairs were in rows in front of her casket. Not
one seat was empty. Kids stood at the back, between the
flower arrangements. Flowers also lined the walls to both
sides of the rows of chairs. The front of the room, where her
casket sat on a raised pedestal draped with white cloth,
was also filled with flower arrangements.
Jana s funeral was like a theater. Her open casket
centered the stage. Lights shone on the ornate box that
held her body. Jana was the star attraction. From the back
of the room, she could see her own face.
But it wasn t herself that she had come to see.
There were too many people in the room. Too many kids.
It looked like a high school assembly and all the girls had
been told to cry. It wasn t like The Big Chill at all. Glenn
Close, William Hurt. And Kevin Kline. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]