Beautiful: Truth's Found When Beauty's Lost Part 16

"I'll go up to my room," she said.

"So you don't want anyone to come over?" Mom asked for the umpteenth time.

Ellie hesitated. She did want people over, but she didn't want them to see her. They'd act as if she looked fine, and they'd talk about school and things she wasn't a part of now. "Maybe later. I'm tired."

Mom seemed reluctant to have her go so quickly. "How are you doing on your homework?"

Ellie shrugged, taking a few steps up the stairs. "So-so."

"You'll need to work really hard, Ellie. Graduation is just around the corner."

Ellie nodded. Maybe by graduation she'd have a big square of skin from her b.u.t.t stuck on her cheek. She could give a speech about it. She decided not to tell Mom this, as she wouldn't find the humor in it.

"I'll get dinner started. Bet you can't wait for a home-cooked meal."

Mom's voice, super sweet and eternally optimistic, was grating on her nerves. Ellie felt that strange new flood of anger in her chest, growing till she feared it would erupt. She needed to get away before she hurt Mom's feelings. But seriously, with everything going on, her mother thought a home-cooked meal would make everything better?

"I want to see my room, 'k?"

"Oh yes, of course, honey. Take a water bottle with you, though. You've got to drink that water. Hydration will help you heal faster. Drink, drink, drink."

Ellie hurried up the stairs.

Her room wasn't exactly as she remembered. Someone had cleaned after the aunts had left and put things in different places. Her mail was stacked on her desk, and the lamp had been moved to the left side instead of the right. Her pillows weren't in flat rectangular stacks, but standing up against the headboard. Someone had plugged in the soft white lights that wove around her bed and crisscrossed along her ceiling. Balloons, gifts, and flowers collected from the many weeks she'd been in the hospital now decorated the windowsill, her bedside table, and the back of her desk.

The room suddenly looked too . . . too something. She'd decorated in a French design with a mix of antique-looking furniture-a black wrought-iron headboard and carved wooden vanity. Square paper lanterns dangled from the ceiling, and the white lights circled the room.

Organized in a black file shelf on her antique desk were brochures for colleges, Amnesty International, and several missionary organizations. She picked up one showing old brick buildings and a smiling coed on the front.

They were the marketing materials of a different Ellie. What would she do now? She was far behind in school, though her home teacher said it was possible to catch up. But college held nothing of the charm it had so long had for her. Before long, she'd probably have brochures and literature coming for disabled adults, burn victims, support groups, and programs for the weak and pathetic.

She walked over to her giant board of photographs. Friends, school and church events, family. And herself. Herself with both sides of her face. One picture someone had given her showed her looking off somewhere. Ellie stared at her left side. That side of her face was gone forever. Sure, they would try skin grafts and reconstructive surgery. But the nerve damage made her unable to smile quite as big as before. And the skin in the picture was gone now. It had charred or blistered off. Or the doctors had sc.r.a.ped it off, and now that side of her was decomposing in some medical garbage can.

In the pictures, her smile was wide and beautiful. Her face completely innocent. Ellie wanted to warn that girl of all that was coming. She wanted to say, "You better prepare yourself. Your life is about to be destroyed. All that you've worked for is for nothing. Get ready."

There were no pictures of Stasia. How strange to think of that now. The girl who died beside her, whom Ellie had known most of her life and yet didn't know at all. All those years of being in cla.s.s together or riding in a bus on a school field trip, playing on the same playground together or apart. How strange to think that the day would come, and now had pa.s.sed, when Ellie would share the last moments of Stasia's life.

In all her photographs, there was no evidence anywhere that the night of the accident was looming in her future.

Ellie wished she could talk to Stasia, ask if she'd been pain-free during the accident, like Ellie had been. If Stasia had survived, they could've become best friends. No one else could understand how she felt. No one else had been there.

A wrapped box sat on the desk. She hadn't noticed it till now. She opened it to find an iPhone and charger, a version newer than the one she'd had. It was empty of contact information-another thing lost in the accident. But already she had voice mail and text messages in her in-box. She set the phone back down.

Someone had brought her laptop back from the hospital and returned it to her desk. The stuffed animals in the window seat stared at her like she was a stranger.

Ellie was actually relieved to escape when Mom called up the stairs, "Dinner's ready."

At the table, Megan looked annoyed. Mom was elated, and Dad appeared to be at great peace.

"This is such a blessing," he said, and Ellie knew that for them it certainly was.

"We're going to have dinner at the dining room table regularly now," Mom said, carrying in her large cast-iron pot.

"Great," Megan said in a dry tone that made Ellie smile.

Ellie took a bite of Mom's stew and stared into the bowl. It was delicious. She ate the corn bread drizzled with extra b.u.t.ter and honey. It had been a long time since she'd eaten anything but hospital food. She wanted to compliment Mom and knew she should, but somehow she couldn't.

Everyone in the house appeared relieved to have her home, especially Mittens, who purred and rubbed back and forth against her legs. It surely was a relief for her parents and Megan not to commute down to Davis or even back and forth to the hospital in Redding. Their lives could go back to normal now. Mom could look happily at her daughters and husband at the dining room table-where they usually only ate on special occasions. Megan could shake her head at Dad's ridiculous jokes and eat her food quickly before heading to her dark bedroom to listen to her dark music and act all dark and gloomy again. Dad could lean back in satisfaction and pat his stomach, knowing they'd come through h.e.l.l and now were healing.

They were healing, at least.

"Healing happens when you take care of yourself physically and mentally," Mom was saying.

Mom went over the schedule for the week ahead. PT appointments, doctor appointments, counseling appointment. "And it'll be great to have us all in church together on Sunday," she finished with satisfaction.

Ellie shook her head slightly but decided not to say it yet. No way was she going to church. The closest she might come was to watch the service online, since they taped it every week and made the video and podcast available. But she wouldn't trouble Mom right now.

Somewhere everyone she knew was doing their own thing, living their own lives. None of them had to experience what she had been through. And she felt hatred for every one of them because of it.

Then Ellie thought of Stasia's family. Perhaps there was one family who could really understand.

Megan looked at the calendar on her computer and groaned. Two and a half months till graduation. It couldn't come soon enough. Turning off her music, she stared at her door, wondering what Ellie was doing in her room.

Their parents were worried about Ellie's grades. Megan had only laughed about it at the time, telling them that her sister would be back to herself soon enough. She'd do some last-minute miracle to retain a 4.0 GPA.

But Ellie wasn't bouncing back. She wasn't the same, and Megan didn't know that being home would change that. Hopping off her bed, she went to Ellie's room, knocked, and peered inside. Her sister was sitting awkwardly at her desk chair, staring out the window.

"Let's go to TJ's and get a milkshake."

"I'm tired." She didn't look Megan's way.

From the back, Ellie looked mostly the same as always. Her long brown hair looked decent enough, not quite as s.h.i.+ny and not styled. But it was wavy and nice. Even the hair on the injured side didn't look bad. It was that one side of her body that was shocking. It sent a s.h.i.+ver of pain down people's spines to see the damage. And the stark difference from a beautiful face to the burned face was stunning.

"You aren't tired." Megan put her hands on her hips. "When was the last time you went to TJ's? Just think about a burger, tater tots, and a shake. Strawberry for you, vanilla for me."

"I don't want to."

"Come on, El. You need out sometimes. We'll take Mom's car so no one will recognize us. If I see someone, I'll speed off before we're spotted."

"You aren't going to leave me alone until I say yes, are you?"

"Nope."

Megan was surprised when Ellie ordered a peanut-b.u.t.ter-and- chocolate shake. Her own vanilla shake was thick and had the perfect subtle flavor. They tasted each other's and decided to share both.

"I don't think I've ever had a better shake than these," Ellie said as she sucked on the straw.

They sat silently enjoying their milkshakes in the driveup area of TJ's. Megan had parked in the farthest stall. She almost choked on a chocolate chunk when her phone beeped.

She read the text and sighed.

"Who is it?" Ellie asked.

Megan bit her lip. She was tired of being the go-between. And she'd partly come here to talk about two subjects with her sister: graduation and Ryan. But now that they were here, confronting those issues wasn't as easy as she thought. "Will wants to see you," she said.

"Will Stefanos?" Ellie shook her head and swore.

Megan's head snapped around. Her sister actually used profanity? Megan didn't like it. And she didn't like that she'd just used the word profanity, even if it was in her own head.

Before she could say anything, Ellie said, "Tell him to get in line-rates to see the circus freak are high."

Megan typed into her phone and then started the car. Drastic times deserved drastic measures. And though it annoyed her how Will was so unlike himself when it came to Ellie, she wondered if he could help somehow.

At a red light, she leaned on the steering wheel. "Will's not trying to see you 'cause he's curious about how you look."

"Then why?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

"I don't want to ask him."

"He's at home in the living room."

"How do you know?"

She held up her phone.

"Why'd you say he could go in?"

"Because you need it. You weren't made to be this reclusive."

Ellie swore again.

"Watch your language, young lady," Megan said firmly.

They stared at each other. Megan couldn't believe she'd actually resorted to "young lady." Where had that come from?

They drove the rest of the way in silence, sipping the last of their shakes.

They found Will sitting on the couch. Mom was treating him like a long-lost relative. Ellie didn't turn his way, only headed straight for her room. She slammed the door shut. Mom would be mortified that the s.h.i.+ning star of the family was being so rude.

Ellie thought the knock on the door would be her mother telling her why she should see Will, or maybe it was Megan again.

"What?" she said.

"I want to come in," Will said.

Ellie jumped up from her bed and went to the mirror in her bathroom. The same red, scarred face she'd seen hours earlier looked back at her. She looked like that guy from The Dark Knight . . . Two-Face, that was his name. She was TwoFace.

"I'm not dressed," she called and flopped down on her bed, sending a shot of pain through her shoulder.

"You look dressed," Will said as he opened the door.

"Nothing like intruding on people. What do you want?"

He stood in the doorway. Evening was falling, and she hadn't turned on her bedroom lights. The dimness of the room felt comforting, except that Will was there.

"Ellie, you're going to be okay."

She rolled onto her back to see him as anger coursed through her. "Thank you, Will. I'm glad to hear that."

"Listen," he said, walking toward her. "When I was in Brazil, this guy was shot, and I was with him. All kinds of stuff happened that was pretty bad. And I didn't think I'd get through it. But I did. You'll get through this. You'll have scars, but you'll be okay. Trust me."

For some unknown reason, Will's sincerity and urgent tone calmed her.

"So can I stay awhile?" he asked.

"It's a free country."

"So am I the first visitor?" he asked.

"No one else has had the guts to come over after I said I didn't want to see anyone." She thought of Ryan then. He'd have been here, but she'd driven him away.

"Guess I'll be known as the guy with the guts."

"So, you want to see?" And she turned suddenly, vulnerable and defiant. Why not let him see it? Get it over with instead of continuing to turn this way and that to hide what couldn't really be hidden.

"Of course."

His response surprised her. She didn't expect such honesty, and somehow it settled her nerves. He walked directly toward her and turned on her bedside light.

She hadn't really looked at him until now. His hair was a little longer, and it surprised her that he looked older-cheekbones and jaw more defined. His lips were full and his eyes so brown they looked black.

His expression hadn't changed. He studied her face, then her arm and shoulder that were exposed. She wore loose sweats and a baggy top. His eyes returned to look her in the eye.

"Okay?" she said. "You can go now."

"I heard you didn't like my birds."

"Your birds?"

"The origami birds I sent to the hospital."