Dead Girl Walking

challenged Eli to “prove it.”

“We’d met years ago, when she welcomed my brother and me to school with a great basket. We got to talking at Jessica’s party and found out we had a lot in common.”

Alyce folded her arms across her chest. “Like what?”

“Chocolate and math.”

“Her favorite things.” Alyce’s face crumpled and she leaned against Dustin. “She used to help me with my math homework. I’m horrible in math. And I don’t care much for chocolate. But Amber and I were still closer than sisters. I–I miss her so much.”

Dustin smoothed Alyce’s black hair. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not!” Alyce sobbed. “You heard what the doctor said … what he’s going to do to her body. Cut her up like some science experiment — I can’t take it! Amber and I had all these plans, like getting into the same college, sharing a dorm room. Her little sisters will never get to know her now, and she won’t be there for me when things at home make me crazy and I need to talk to her.”

“I’m here for you,” Dustin offered.

“It’s not the same.”

“It’s hard for me, too.” A tear trickled down Dustin’s unshaven cheek. He glanced up at Eli. “I’ll tell Amber’s family you stopped by.”

Eli frowned. “I really hoped to see her.”

“Sorry, man. Only family and close friends are allowed in her room. But she’s beyond knowing, anyway … and it’ll be over—” His voice cracked. “I–It’s hard to talk about. We’re waiting for the doctor to come for us … to let us know …”

“Isn’t she going to make it?”

Dustin gritted his teeth, still holding onto Alyce as he shook his head. “It doesn’t look good.”

Shocked by the finality in his voice, I stumbled and knocked over the garbage can. Trash spilled around my ankles and a soda can rolled toward the door.

Dustin moved quickly, coming over to pick up the can. “Here,” he said.

“Thanks,” I murmured. “This should go into recycling, though, not the trash.”

Dustin started to turn, but then stared into my face. There was a flicker of curiosity — or maybe puzzlement — in his gaze. “Do I know you?” he asked.

I nodded, slipping the aluminum can into a pocket of the uniform.

His eyes widened, then knitted together. “You’re … you’re—”

“Yes, Dust?” I asked hopefully.

“Leah Montgomery!”

Wrong answer, I thought, disheartened.

“You can’t possible work here,” he said incredulously. “As a janitor?”

“I’m here because of Amber. Please, Dustin … Can’t you see who I really am?”

“Everyone at Halsey knows who you are. I’ve seen you at lunch in that center table. It’s cool you’re … um … working here. Not what I’d expect … I mean … any job is great … even when your family is, like, rich.” Put him in front of a crowd at a rally and he was confident, but in front of a pretty girl, he forgot how to talk.

“Relax, Dust,” I told him. “There’s no reason to be nervous with me.”

“Who’s nervous? I’m not.”

“And I’m not Leah.”

“We don’t care if you’re a janitor or queen of the universe.” Alyce pushed between us, her sorrow shifted to anger. “This isn’t about you — it’s about my friend Amber. I don’t believe you even know her.”

“I know more about her than you think.”

Alyce rolled her eyes. “I doubt you even know her favorite color.”

“Jade green.”

“What does she collect?”

“Self-help books. Piled all over the room and you make dumb jokes about how Amber needs a self-help book on how to organize self-help books.”

Dustin looked impressed, but Alyce sneered. “Anyone could know. You’re pathetic. Amber would have told me if you two were friends — she told me everything. Being here won’t impress anyone, so why don’t you leave? If you hadn’t noticed, our best friend is … is—” Her voice cracked.

Eli quickly moved beside me. “Leah cares. She’s wearing that uniform because she’s a hospital volunteer. I ran into her on my way to see Amber and found out she had the same idea.”

Dustin tilted his head toward me. “Did you send flowers?”

“Flowers?” I blinked.

“The card said they were from Leah Montgomery, but I didn’t believe it. The bouquet was so big the crystal vase didn’t even fit on the tray, so it had to go on the floor.”

The flowers I’d bought with Leah’s credit card. “Yeah, I sent them. Her accident was so tragic. I couldn’t feel worse if it had happened to me.”

“I know she’d appreciate it if she could …” Dustin looked away, wiping his eyes.

“Tell Mo … um … Amber’s family that I send my condolences.”

“Sure,” Dustin said.

“And, Dust?” I added, a lump in my throat.

“Yeah, Leah?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“What?”

I whispered into his ear, “Your socks are mixed shades of black.”

Then I left the waiting room.

21

Eli and I moved silently down the hall. I didn’t want to talk; I couldn’t without crying. I kept thinking of Dustin and Alyce, wanting to turn around and explain everything to them. But getting to my body was more important.

We didn’t encounter any nurses, doctors or security guards on the way to Room 311. It was like someone (Grammy Greta?) was guiding me back to myself.

“Go ahead,” Eli urged. “I’ll stay outside on watch.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”

“No. This is your moment.”

“And Leah’s,” I said solemnly.

When I pushed open Room 311’s door, sterile whiteness enveloped me: white walls, ceiling, linoleum, window shades, and a plastic white curtain draped around a bed. The only vibrant colors came from a tray crowded with cards, potted plants, and bouquets. I recognized the largest bouquet — fragrant pink, yellow, and red roses blooming from a crystal vase. There was no sound except the drone and beeps from machines. I moved quietly toward the white curtain and drew it back. I could see the outline of a shape underneath white covers.

Alone with myself.

If there was oxygen in the room, I must have used it all up with the huge breath I sucked in as I stared at the motionless girl in the bed.

Me.

She was me.

Un-freaking-believable!

I’d never looked at myself full-on before, of course. A reflection or photo isn’t even close to the same thing. Twins must know what it’s like to look at your own face, but until now I’d never had that experience — and it was