Backwards. Part 9

"They're a fungus," said Teagan. "They eat dead things and live in the dark. Some are poisonous."

"True." Cat pursed her lips. "But some are delicious. Some bring dreams and are beautiful. Some even glow in the dark."

Teagan squinted. "How about blue?" she asked. "Blue's my favorite color. Or is that too weird for mushrooms?"

"Blue's perfect," said Cat. "This is our place, so we can do whatever we like here."

"Sounds good to me," said Teagan. "I'd like to get a new family."

"Wouldn't we all," joked Tricia.

"Done," said Cat. "And this is our home."

I stayed near Cat while she outlined figures on the walls, painting over doork.n.o.bs and light switches and parts of the couch. In the candlelight, the decaying room became a work of art, as if she'd projected her dreams outside of herself and had invited us all to be part of them. A sort of reverent hush filled the room. Even TR got caught up in it. He sat for almost an hour without fidgeting and watched the paintings take shape around him.

As they worked, I thought about each of them. Tricia was the mother bear of the group - the big protector. And Spooner seemed harmless enough, if a bit of a klepto. In the short time we were there, I watched him unscrew a k.n.o.b from a drawer and pocket it, along with a hair tie that Cat set down.

Teagan, the only freshman, was the youngest in the group. Cat and Tricia were both juniors, and Spooner was a senior, although he didn't act like it. At home Teagan bristled like a wounded animal, but around Tricia and Cat, she let down her guard, happy to be adopted into their misfit tribe.

And then there was Cat. She wasn't a leader in the typical sense. She was more like a fire in a snowstorm - something radiant and improbable that they all gathered around.

Cat had just reached the third wall of the living room when Tricia announced that it was time to quit and get some sleep.

"Thanks, Mom," Teagan teased. She set down her brush and rubbed her hands together to ward off the cold.

"There's paint thinner in that jug if you want to clean the brushes," said Cat. "Actually, it's gasoline - poor man's paint thinner."

Tricia poured a little gas from the milk jug into a jar of dirty brushes while Cat added a few last details to a flamingo.

"Aren't you tired?" ask Spooner.

Cat shrugged. "I like staying awake at night. Easier to imagine things in the dark."

"Easier to steal things, too," he replied. "I snagged a case of wine from this guy's garage if you want some."

"Some other time," said Cat.

"That reminds me," continued Spooner, lowering his voice so Tricia and Teagan couldn't hear. "I asked around for that stuff you wanted. A guy I know says Trent could hook you up."

"Trent Mercer?" Cat lowered her paintbrush.

"Yeah. He's got these pills - they're not roofies, but they'll get you plenty smashed," said Spooner. "Why do you want that stuff, anyway?"

"I don't," replied Cat. "I just wanted to know."

"Know what?"

"Who has them." She set her brush in the jar and didn't paint anymore.

TR and I followed them back to the apartment complex. It was a little after two in the morning when Cat returned to her place. From the look of it, her dad still hadn't come home.

She tossed her backpack into her room and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

"Come on, man. You're not going to watch this, too," said TR.

"All right," I said. It looked like Cat was going to bed, anyway, and I didn't want TR to watch her undress. "Let's go."

TR jumped through the wall. I whispered, "Sweet dreams," to Cat before following him out.

We searched for people to spy on, but no one interested me as much as Cat. After an hour or so, we headed home.

I checked on Teagan when I got back to the house. She looked younger asleep. I wondered what would happen to her after Dan offed himself. If she blamed herself, she'd be devastated. And who would look out for her? Given Teagan's current relations.h.i.+p with their mom, I didn't think she would be much help. And her dad seemed out of the picture. So maybe Cat and Tricia would take care of her, but Cat had her own issues to deal with, and the home they'd created tonight wouldn't even be there anymore. Dan would destroy that, too.

I finally went back to his room. Except for a few lame movie posters and the calendar hanging by his bed, his walls were bare. Empty walls, empty person.

Dan rolled over in his sleep. Something pulled me toward him, but I resisted sinking back into his body. His mouth gaped halfway open, and a few creases marred his cheek. Other than that, he looked the same now as he did awake - a clumsy, hollow sh.e.l.l of a person sleepwalking through life. Such a waste.

Fear will cause what you fear, I thought, looking at the wall above the zombie's head. The words were hidden beneath the calendar, but that didn't matter. They'd been etched into my mind as much as the wall. Dan's fear of messing up would cause him to mess up over and over again. And my fear of not being able to make things better for Cat and Teagan and Dan's mom would cause me to fail.

So if fear caused what I feared, then maybe the only solution was to be fearless. Instead of changing things in small ways, I needed to do something big and daring. I needed to take over completely, at least for a little while - then I could fix things. And why not? If I could control the zombie for a few minutes, why not a few hours? Or days? Or longer?

Granted, the notion of forcing Dan out of his life seemed questionable. But then I thought of how many people he'd hurt. His mom and sister would never recover from finding him dead in the tub, and he'd mess things up for Cat and burn down her secret house. For all practical purposes, his life was over. So what did it matter if I stepped in? I certainly couldn't make things worse. He might even thank me for taking control. And the messages did seem to be encouraging me in this direction. The only thing holding me back was fear.

I stared at his slack face and made up my mind.

From here on out, Dan's life would be mine.

That's what I found written on the wall beneath the calendar when Dan woke up. I made him brush his hand over the letters, feeling the indentations and scratches in the drywall. He still seemed sleepy and detached. I calmed him some by pressing the calendar flat to cover the words the way I'd seen him do.

I'd watched Dan perform his morning routine enough to go through all the usual motions. To an observer, it probably looked as if nothing had changed, yet now I felt every action more intensely - the heat of the water as he showered, the steam in his lungs, the soft caress of the towel against his skin. It was glorious. The more I did, the more Dan detached. He protested a little when I began to style his hair differently, combing it into neat rows (mostly because I loved the feel of the comb on his freshly washed head), but then I brushed his hands through his hair, giving him the typical "I just woke up and don't care about style" look, and Dan settled back again.

As I dressed, I thought about the new message on the wall. The fact that it had changed this morning, right after I'd made up my mind to take over, seemed more than coincidence. It seemed like a sign. YOU ARE NOT WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE could mean I wasn't simply a rider sent here to help others. Perhaps I'd been destined to make this life mine. In time I might even get to be with Cat. I could stay with her and hold her and make her happy.

The very notion made me tremble, causing Dan's hands to fumble with his shoelaces - that's how firmly I connected to him now. The more certain I became of my purpose, the more solid my hold over his body became.

The aroma of coffee dazzled my senses when I entered the kitchen. I wanted to taste some, but I knew Dan would object. He hated coffee. Then again, if this was going to be my life, I couldn't be afraid of him. I focused on walling Dan off and keeping him detached. Then I leaned over the pot and inhaled deeply. The lush coffee smell made me think of Cat. This same scent clung to her hair and clothes.

Dan's mom came in and frowned at me.

"Good morning," I said. "Sleep well?"

She stopped in her tracks and gave me a suspicious look. "Did you break something?"

"I don't think so." I looked around for a plate or gla.s.s I might have knocked over.

"Do you need money?" she continued.

"I'm not sure," I said. "Do I need money?"

Dan's mom filled her coffee mug. "I don't have time for guessing games, Dan. If there's something you need to tell me, out with it."

"I just wanted to tell you good morning," I said, eager to send some positive energy her way. G.o.d knows, she needed it. "Also, I want you to have a good day. You deserve that."

She narrowed her eyes. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," I said. Dan grew agitated, making it harder to talk. Things were definitely not going the way I'd intended. "I simply want to express my grat.i.tude for all that you do."

Her expression darkened. Did she think I was being sarcastic?

"I mean it," I added, only it came out whiny. The more I said, the more suspicious she became. Fortunately, Teagan came in, giving her someone else to focus on.

"Are you leaving?" asked their mom. "You're not going to have breakfast?"

Teagan hoisted her backpack over her shoulder. "I'll eat something later. One of my friends is picking me up."

"Who?"

"No one you know."

"I could give you a ride," I chimed in. So far, Teagan had done her best to ignore me. "It would be my pleasure," I continued, although it was getting harder to speak. Dan pressed against me, and I had to fight to keep control.

"Are you high?" asked Teagan.

"I . . . don't think so," I stammered.

"I'm not sure I want you hopping in a car with someone I don't know," said their mom.

"It's no big deal," Teagan said. "Her name's Tricia and she's a junior, and I'm not a lesbian, so you don't have to worry about us making out and driving off a cliff."

Dan's mom scowled.

"Tricia is -" I started, but my hold slipped. I tumbled through Dan's thoughts, suddenly disconnected. Whispers swirled around me, pulling me down.

"Tricia's what?" asked Teagan. "A b.i.t.c.h?"

No! She's a good friend, I said. Only I wasn't able to make Dan speak. Instead, he let out a strained "Uhhh . . ." sound.

"You're such a freak-wad."

"Teagan!" scolded their mom. "Don't swear at your brother like that."

"What? Freak-wad? That's swearing?"

Dan kept pus.h.i.+ng me back. I gave in, exhausted, and let him take over. The zombie stared at his cereal. I got the sense that both Teagan and their mom expected Dan to say something, but he didn't. He just stirred the mush around.

"At least take a banana," said their mom, returning her attention to Teagan. "You need to eat something before school."

Teagan huffed and grabbed a banana before heading out.

After she left, Dan retreated to his room and calmed down a little. According to the clock by his bed, I hadn't even managed to control his body for half an hour. If I was going to take over, I had to get better at shutting Dan out. And I had to be careful not to rock the boat too much.

Dan peered inside his backpack before zipping it up. On top of his books, I noticed two figurines.

The White Rabbit.

The Ches.h.i.+re Cat.

They were the exact same figurines, down to the chipped paint on the White Rabbit's pocket watch, that Cat would pull out of a shoe box four days from now. I had no idea how they'd gotten into the zombie's backpack, but I knew they meant something to Cat. So maybe I could give them to her. Thinking this renewed my sense of purpose.

I sank back into the zombie. You are not who you think you are, I whispered to Dan. This isn't your life. You'll only mess things up.

Dan looked at the calendar on the wall. I kept repeating the message written there, like a rallying cry. You are not who you think you are.

The message had more power than anything I could come up with on my own, because Dan had seen it, too. He knew it was real and not just some voice whispering in his head. Gradually, his battered mind soaked up the doubt I fed him and he withdrew. I slipped into the gap, making his body mine again.

I slung his backpack over my shoulder and strode to his car, eager to get to school and find Cat. Giving her the figurines could be the first step to a new relations.h.i.+p. Who knows? Someday Dan might even forget this life had ever been his.

At school, I did my best to follow Dan's routine, acting like he would. I kept quiet through his cla.s.ses and didn't make eye contact with anyone until Dan detached so much I could barely detect him. All the while, I paid attention to every detail around me, savoring the sounds, sights, and smells of school.

By the time lunch rolled around, I felt fairly confident in my control. Dan churned a little when I spotted Cat in the hallway, but I managed to keep him at bay.

"Hi," I said, seizing the opportunity to talk with Cat.

She clenched her notebook to her chest and stared past me, waiting for someone else.

"Can we talk?" I asked.

"No." She still wouldn't meet my gaze. "There's nothing to talk about."

A serious lump formed in my throat, making it hard to speak. Any second now, I feared Dan would challenge me for control, but he remained distant. This was my chance.

"I know you don't want to see me," I started.

Cat narrowed her eyes, as if this was the biggest understatement of the year.

"But I've changed," I continued, thinking of the message on the wall. "I'm not who you think I am."

"Then, who are you?"

"Someone new. Whoever I used to be, however he - I mean I - messed up, I'm not that guy anymore."

"How original." She gripped her notebook tighter.

"I'm serious. Things are different now. We can start over."

Cat finally met my gaze. Perhaps she sensed some truth in my voice. "You can't just say things are different and have them be different."

"But I am different. You know that I am. Trust me."