Better Late Than Never

Chapter 15

OKAY, THAT'S IT," MRS. Preston said. "I'm calling the doctor." Amanda looked up. "Why?"

"Because you haven't said a word since we sat down to dinner. Not to mention the fact that it's your favorite, lasagna, and you've barely touched it." The woman got up from the table and went to the phone.

Hastily, Amanda dug her fork into the lasagna. "I'm eating!" she yelled.

"Too late," Ken's mother called back. "Something's wrong with you, and I'm going to find out what it is." A moment later, she reappeared. "The doctor's office is closed. But I'm calling again first thing in the morning."

Amanda couldn't worry about that now. She had bigger things on her mind. Like raising the dead.

Not like in the movies, when zombies came up from the ground and vampires emerged from coffins.

Just making someone dead be alive again, as he was before.

She wasn't stupid, and she didn't believe in magic or reincarnation, or anything like that. But look at her--she could take over bodies. That wasn't scientific--nobody could explain it. The same was true of every student in her gifted class. They could all do inexplicable things. Reading minds, seeing the future, making things move on their own--none of these skills made any sense in a logical world. So maybe one of them could bring the dead back to life but just didn't know it yet. Why not? It wasn't any freakier than anything else they did. The question was--who would be a likely candidate? Whose gifts might extend to something like that?

During her "date" with Rick that evening, she didn't mention her plan. She let the conversation go on in its usual lovely way. Rick talked about his dreams, goals, and ambitions--things that could never come true now that he was dead. He didn't sound depressed, though, and she soon found out why.

She asked a question that had been in the back of her mind since they'd met.

What's it like, where you are?

Beautiful.

Can you tell me about it?

It's hard to describe. It's just this incredibly happy place, full of love.

I'd like to see it.

You will, someday. Not for a long time, though, I think. You're not the type to get into a stupid motorcycle accident. And you have to wait till it's your time or you won't come here.

She understood. Not that she was thinking of trying to get there on her own, to be with him. No, she wanted him here, in her world. As beautiful as his world might be, she preferred to stay alive for the time being.

So they talked about other things. She confessed that she hadn't given much thought to her own future. He talked about college. He'd never been, of course, but his older brother had loved it. He told her he thought she'd make a wonderful teacher because she expressed herself so well. Nobody had ever told her that before, mostly because it hadn't been true.

She told him about her family, about being an only child, and how spoiled she was as the center of attention in her real home. She described her other experiences as a body snatcher.

She left out a lot of stuff about her life, too. She didn't talk about her clique--how they always sat together at lunch and criticized other girls. She didn't tell him how frequently she went shopping for clothes and makeup, shoes, and hair products.

He talked about books he'd read when he was alive. He'd been a big reader. A couple of titles were familiar, but only because they'd been required reading for a class, and even then, she'd used only the Cliffs Notes so that she wouldn't have to waste valuable television time reading. She didn't know most of the books he mentioned, but she filed the titles away in her memory for future reading. This dead guy was going to change the way she lived. And maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't have to stay dead.

In her gifted class the next day, Other-Amanda was giving her report on how her gift could influence her career choice. Real Amanda had lucked out--she wouldn't have to do it. Of course, sooner or later Ken would have to give his report.

Other-Amanda didn't surprise her. Amanda knew herself too well.

"I don't think there's anything positive about my gift at all, and it can't do me any good in the future. I want to have a fabulous life, and I can't have that if I can transfer only into bodies I feel sorry for. So my goal is to lose my gift, and that will help me achieve my goals."

"Which are?" Madame inquired.

"If I grow a few more inches, I could be a model. If I don't grow, I suppose I could be a movie star."

"Do you enjoy acting?" the teacher asked.

"I don't know--I've never tried it."

"You're not in the drama club here at school?"

Other-Amanda rolled her eyes. "No. They're not my kind of people."

Amanda-Ken saw something that Other-Amanda wouldn't have noticed--the way her classmates were looking at her. Emily and Tracey were exchanging exasperated looks. Sarah was shaking her head sadly. Jenna seemed preoccupied, as if she wasn't even listening to the report, but Martin and Charles were whispering, and they were both looking at Other-Amanda with expressions that weren't pleasant.

Ken probably looked the way she was feeling. Disgusted. With herself.

As Other-Amanda continued with her life goals, which essentially involved being rich and beautiful and having fun all the time, Amanda-Ken looked around the room and wondered who might be capable of bringing Rick back. It seemed to her that Sarah was the most likely candidate. At least, she had the most powerful gift, even if she refused to use it. Amanda would have to talk to her . . .

What do you think, Rick? There's a girl who can make people do things, even if they don't want to. I'm wondering if maybe she's got gifts that she doesn't know she has.

Like what?

Bringing someone back. From where you are. So we could be together.

There was no response.

Rick?

I'm here. I'm listening.

I'd probably have to tell her the whole story, about being Ken right now, and falling in love with you . . .

She caught herself. Had she actually used that word before, with him? Was she coming on too strong?

It won't do any good.

Why?

Because it can't happen. That kind of power doesn't exist. Not, outside movies and stories.

But I can't stay inside Ken forever! His parents think he's sick -- his mother's taking me to the doctor tomorrow. I don't know how or when I'll get back inside myself but it's going to happen sooner or later.

I know.

Then what are we going to do? Once I'm myself again, we won't even be able to talk!

I know.

That's the second time you've said that! Don't you have any ideas?

Only one. We have to stop connecting. Now.

She must have gasped audibly, because everyone in the class was looking at her.

"Ken? Are you all right?"

"Um, I'm feeling nauseous. Can I be excused?"

Madame quickly handed Amanda-Ken a hall pass, and she hurried out of the room. She ran down two flights to the basement restroom that nobody used, the one where she always went when she needed complete privacy.

Okay, I'm back. Why do we have to stop connecting now? Don't you have feelings for me?

Of course I do. That's why we have to stop. Because it's going to get only more difficult for both of us.

But that's not fair! Not if you love me and I love you!

It's not fair to die in a motorcycle accident when you're eighteen years old. It's not fair that people are hungry. It's not fair that a bad person can succeed and a good person fails.

I don't care about anyone else -- I'm talking about us!

You don't mean what you just said. Of course you care about other people. You're that kind of person.

Was she? She wasn't so sure.

I don't want to lose you!

I'll be in your memory. You'll be in mine.

That's not enough. I want more.

Oh, Amanda, you can't have it all. You must know that.

But she didn't know that. She'd always had everything she wanted, and she wasn't about to stop now: Not when she'd found someone she wanted to be with more than anyone else in the world. This couldn't be happening to her, Amanda Beeson! She would not allow her heart to break! They belonged together, she and Rick. They had to be together …

But from some place far away, in the deepest recesses of her mind, she heard a faint voice.

Goodbye, my love.

And she wasn't in the restroom anymore.

She was in her seat in the gifted class. Her usual seat--Amanda's seat. Madame was looking at her with interest. Amanda didn't think it was because of her report.

But all Madame said was, "Thank you, Amanda. Sarah, would you like to go next?"

Amanda didn't hear a word Sarah said. Her head was spinning and she was trying to get a grip on herself.

How did she get here? Was it the strength of her emotions that had pushed her back inside her own body? Emotions she'd never admitted to herself before?

The classroom door opened and a dazed-looking Ken entered.

"Feeling better?" Madame asked, eyeing him keenly.

He nodded and took his seat. He glanced at Amanda and then looked quickly away.

He's embarrassed, Amanda thought. He knows I was using him and he's feeling awkward. Not to mention the fact that he came to in a girls' restroom.

She waited for the bell to ring and went to his seat before he could even get up.

"Hi . . ." she said, uncertain as to how he would respond.

He finally looked directly at her. "What happened?"

So he knew he hadn't been himself and he knew she had something to do with it. She realized honesty was the only way to go.

"I was inside your body. I saw you watching the soccer team practice. You looked so sad, and I felt sorry for you, and then, well, it just happened."

Okay, she wasn't being completely honest. But he didn't have to know her real motives. Mostly because those motives had disappeared once Rick had come into her life.

"How did it feel?" she asked. "Having me inside you?"

"I don't know," he said. "I mean, it was like a dream, all blurry and … and not real. Like I was here and I wasn't here . . ." He looked at her helplessly.

She could almost understand how he felt. It had to be so personal, having someone else inside you. Funny how she had never considered what Tracey felt when she had left her body. But then, Amanda Beeson didn't ever consider other people's feelings.

"What did you make me do?" he asked suddenly.

"You gave me a poem," she admitted. Even as she spoke, she knew it was a mistake to tell him this. Because, of course, there was only one thing he could say.

"Why?"

She confessed, "I wanted you to like me."

It wasn't a very flattering reaction. He looked confused and then embarrassed again. He also seemed curious.

"Was it a good poem?" he asked.

"Yeah. But I didn't appreciate it."

He nodded and then rose. "I have to go."

She watched him leave and wondered if she'd ever have any kind of relationship with him again. Of course he wasn't surprised to learn that she hadn't appreciated a poem. The Amanda Beeson he knew wouldn't care.

If she'd known then what she knew now--about people and feelings. About herself. About pain and hurt and sadness.

But now she understood. And like the old poster proclaimed, this could be the first day of the rest of her life. She could be a different person, a better person.

Without Rick. And she had to call on the resources of the old Amanda, the Amanda who didn't care, to keep herself from bursting into tears right there and then.

Because she didn't think the memory would be enough.