Part 7 (1/2)

62.

”He loved you,” the dead girl says. ”He would have died for you. He did, I think.”

Then the wind rushes by and pulls the girl apart, steals her away in a spinning cloud of rot and baby spiders, and now Daria can see what's waiting for her past the open window. The white, unfinished thing hanging head down from the bedroom ceiling, and when she opens her eyes, Niki is kneeling next to the love seat, tears streaking her cheeks and the bandage on her hand starting to unravel.

”I'm so sorry,” she says. ”I tried. I tried to die and make it be over. I tried to keep them from finding you, too,” and part of Daria Parker's head is still lost in the dream of snow and angel wings and smiling, zombie ghosts. She sits up slowly, dizzy, disoriented, and the nausea and pain in her stomach are worse than before she fell asleep.

”No . . . it's okay,” she says, mouth gone as dry as cracker crumbs, tongue like something she doesn't quite remember how to use. ”I was having a nightmare, that's all, Niki. Just a stupid, G.o.dd.a.m.n nightmare.” And she puts an arm around Niki's waist, pulls her close and holds her while the dream begins to fade, and Niki sobs, and long, late-afternoon shadows fill the room.

”No, it's absolutely out of the question,” Daria says, and then her cell phone starts ringing again, and this time she turns it off instead of answering it. ”Jesus, Niki, stop and think about this a minute. It's crazy.”

”Then it ought to be right up my alley.” Niki's curled into the window seat, knees pulled up beneath her chin, and she pretends to watch Alamo Square while Daria fusses about with the tangle of clean and dirty clothes stuffed into her bulging overnight bag sitting at the foot of the bed.

”That's not what I meant and you f.u.c.king well know it.”

”I know that's why you never listen to me anymore.

Anything you don't want to hear, all you have to do is remind me I'm crazy, and that's the end of it.”

”Bulls.h.i.+t,” Daria mutters and bends over to pick up a

63.

pair of pale yellow panties that have escaped the bag and fallen to the floor. ”But you're not about to guilt-trip me into thinking that you going back to Birmingham is any kind of good idea, so you may as well stop trying.”

Niki pushes her bangs out of her eyes and stares down at the park. There's a child playing Frisbee with a big black dog and for a moment she thinks the dog has noticed her, that it's staring up at her, and she looks away.

”If I'm crazy, Daria, then what difference does it make?

If it's all in my head, I'm just as safe there as I am here.”

”I said no, Niki, so how about let's just drop it,” and somehow the yellow panties have gotten pushed under the edge of the bed, and Daria has to get down on her knees to retrieve them. Niki watches her instead of the dog and tries to think of something to say to get Daria's attention, get her mind off the airplane and the band and Atlanta, because it's already three o'clock and she's running out of time.

”I know the things you dream about,” she says. ”I know you see things too, even when you're awake.”

Daria stands up, stands staring at Niki, the panties in one hand and she rubs at her forehead with the other.

”What the h.e.l.l is that supposed to mean?”

”You know what it means,” Niki says and turns back to the child and his dog because it's easier than the bright flecks of anger and resentment in Daria's eyes. The dog is definitely looking at her, stealing glances at the high bedroom window whenever it knows for certain that its boy won't notice.

”No, Niki, I don't. That's probably why I asked you.”

”You try to be just like everyone else, like you don't know better. You want me to believe you don't know better.”

Daria sighs loudly and clicks her tongue once against the roof of her mouth, but Niki doesn't turn around. The child throws the Frisbee, and it sails twenty or thirty feet before the dog leaps into the air and catches it.

”I know you feel alone,” Daria says, and Niki can hear 64 how hard she's trying not to get p.i.s.sed off, the fraying calm in her voice. ”I understand that it would probably make you feel better if you were right and I did see these . . .

these things. But I don't, Niki, and I'm not going to lie to you and say that I do.”

”You have dreams,” Niki says, sounding defensive and wis.h.i.+ng that she didn't.

”Yes, I have dreams. I have nightmares, and sometimes they're really f.u.c.king awful, but what the h.e.l.l do you expect?”

”You were there, ” Niki whispers, close to tears again, and she's sick of crying, doesn't want to start crying again because Daria will only think it's a trick to get her to listen, to get her to stay. ”You were there, and you saw what happened in Spyder's house.”

”She hung herself, Niki. That's what I saw that night.

That's all I saw.”

”I know you're lying to me, Dar,” and now she is crying, and Niki smacks the window once with her bandaged hand. The gla.s.s quivers in its frame, but doesn't break, and the noise makes the dog and the child pause and look up at her. ”You're scared to death and so you pretend it never happened, that you never saw anything you can't explain away or-”

”That's not true, Niki.”

”Yes, G.o.dd.a.m.n it, it is true,” and Niki turns to face Daria, speaking through clenched teeth, and both her hands are balled into small, hard fists. ”It's true and you know it's true.

And no matter how many therapists you send me to or how many pills I take, it's still going to be true. Spyder didn't kill herself, and you know that as well as I do.”

”I've heard enough of this, Niki. I have a plane to catch,”

and Daria stuffs the panties back into the overnight bag and zips it shut. ”Some of us have to live in the real world.”

”f.u.c.k you, Daria,” and Niki wipes her nose with the back of her bandaged hand. There's a small, dark splotch of blood seeping through the gauze where it covers her palm, so she knows she's ripped the st.i.tches loose.

65.

”You can't stop me from going back,” she says. ”Not if I mean to.”

Daria picks up the bag and glances at the clock beside the bed, the clock and the vase of lilies, then back at Niki.

”No, you're wrong about that, too. I could stop you.

You're not well, and if I thought it was the right thing to do, I could stop you. You'd still be in that f.u.c.king hospital, if I'd let them keep you. But I couldn't stand that, knowing you were locked up in there like some kind of a lab animal.”