Through the Windshield Glass (14 page)

"I just
told them I didn't feel like talking about my death, and they pressed so we
got--agitated."

It was a weak
excuse, but I hoped if Kinga decided to check with Michael or Leigh that they
would be smart enough to attest its truthfulness.

"Perhaps
you should go get something to eat then. And maybe
　
next time you shouldn't upset the man who is
destined to be my husband and future king of this place if we succeed against
Alecsander."

That was
shocking, it hadn’t seemed like Michael was Kinga’s biggest fan, I couldn’t
imagine him ageing to marry her, "I thought you said there were no
relationships here."

"Not now,
but if we are successful, there will be opportunity for family and
relationships once again. As I said, at this time those things are much too
dangerous."

I decided not
to press Kinga any farther on that subject, so I asked just one last question
as Kinga was turning to leave, "What is this place called?"

"It's been
called many things, but most of us refer to it by the same name that it is
called on Earth. Beyond. Now if you don't mind, there are more important things
than history lessons to attend to. Please, go get yourself some food and try
not to harass anyone else while you do."

Kinga left
without waiting for a response. This time, I didn't restrain myself from
sticking out my tongue. Surprisingly, it made me feel much better.

Chapter Twenty-one

A few minutes
later I found myself in the kitchen again. Seeing everyone made me very aware
of how awful I must look. I subconsciously attempted to pull knots out of my
hair, while straightening my clothes while at the same time trying to keep my
arms from rising too high and releasing the stink of three days of doing almost
nothing but sleeping. I also started longing for a toothbrush.

I needed to
distract myself from my awful hygiene situation so I began scanning the room
again. I realized that the people in line weren't all quiet. The ones that were
seemed to be like me. They almost looked to be in shock, as though they were
newly dead, without a friend, and still getting used to a new name and
identity.

I smiled
encouragingly at a girl around my age who was walking past with a tray of food
in her hand. Her eyes widened, her step quickened and she gave me a wide berth.
I watched as she settled herself between two people, as safe as she could be
from the freaky new girl with a dirty smile.

I ran my tongue
over my teeth, they really did feel nasty. I grew more and more anxious to get
my food and race back to my room to eat where my smell wouldn't overpower
anyone's appetite.

I avoided
meeting anyone's eyes, my feet moved forward automatically. A woman behind a
table handed me a tray loaded with a small bowl of macaroni and cheese, a glass
of apple juice, and vanilla pudding. I almost smiled remembering a lunch at
school that had been near the same. I quickly stopped thinking about that
though. It hurt too much to dig up old memories of home.

I kept my head
down and rushed out of the kitchen and back to my room. Once the door was
safely closed and locked behind me I began to inhale the food. It wasn't nearly
enough to satisfy my extreme hunger, but it would have to do until I could find
a place to bathe.

I didn't know
what time it was, I guessed the meal I'd just eaten had been lunch, so it had
to be around noon, but there was no way to tell anymore since the light in my
room had been changed so many times.

Sighing, I
dropped the tray on the floor and flung myself back onto my pillow.

"I need a
shower!" I shouted to no one. I didn't expect anything to happen, I almost
felt as trapped as I had in the hallway, but I hadn't needed to shower there,
and when I asked for someone to help me they only came when it was convenient.
This time, almost as soon as the words had left my mouth there was a knock at
my door.

"Who is
it?" I asked.

No answer,
"Who is it?" I tried again. Still nothing.

I growled in
frustration and got up to answer the door, I prayed it wasn't Michael come to
see if I had made up my mind. For one thing, I hadn't, for another, I looked
like I'd been in a tornado and probably smelled worse than a port-a-potty.

"What do
you wa--" I broke off, I wasn't looking at the hall that led to the
kitchen anymore; instead I had opened to the door to a small, neat bathroom.
There were towels rolled up on a shelf, along with washcloths, and folded on
the toilet were my old clothes, converse and all, not to mention clean
underwear. Daman's jacket was gone though, part of me wanted it back in a
desperate kind of way, but I also got the feeling that if I had it I would just
be an easier target and better bait.

The shower in
the bathroom was also a bathtub, I figured I'd make use of that after I'd
showered off all my nastiness so I wouldn't be stewing in my own filth.

Not a lot of
people go an entire year without showering, I showered almost everyday when I
was alive, even if it wasn't a necessity, it just felt good and was a wonderful
place to escape to, not to mention it was warm in the morning.

The shower felt
glorious, I had forgotten just how wonderful they could be. There was even a
razor so I could shave. I'd always taken smooth legs for granted, no more would
that be the case. As I rinsed out my hair I felt like I should be seeing actual
dark water swirling away, but all I saw was the murkiness of soap.

Once I had
sufficiently cleaned my person, I turned off the showerhead and allowed the tub
to fill with hot water. If the shower felt good, this was a near euphoric
feeling. I hadn't taken a moment just to relax with myself since I had died.
I'd been too worked up in the hallway, too enraptured by Daman in the doors,
and too agitated with the conflicting points of view since I'd escaped to enjoy
a moment of peace. But finally no one was pestering me, there were no locked
doors and no people yelling at each other or calling me the wrong name. I'm
sure I could've stayed in the tub all day, but eventually the water cooled and
my stomach began to growl again.

I toweled off,
dressed, and tied my hair into a ponytail with an elastic that I found on the
counter near the sink faucet. I looked like I could be getting ready to go to
school, the only thing missing was my backpack and Maria outside the house
honking for me come get in the car so we could get some breakfast before
school.

I remembered
Michael’s offer and my stomach twisted into knots. When I met him the first
time he didn’t seem like the kind of person who’d ask an unsuspecting girl to
be bait so that he and his friends could test a few theories. I sighed and
squeezed some water out of the end of my ponytail. I guess first impressions
really aren’t the best basis for knowing someone.

My stomach
growled again, I hoped I would be able to find my way back to the kitchen.

After a few
attempts, and a lot of yelling at my bedroom door, I finally opened it to find
the hallway I’d first walked into when I woke up for the first time. At the
same instance I put my foot through the door, another at the end of the hall
opened.

A head covered
in red hair poked out of the opening, she was wearing near the same thing I had
been when I woke up, but on her it looked like a piece of art. The clothes
didn’t drown her like they had me, she filled them out and her looks could’ve
rivaled Kinga’s any day. There was only one person I’d ever met who could do
all that in pajamas with sleep mussed hair.

“Maria!” I
shouted without thinking.

The head turned
to me, it was definitely her, but there was something wrong. Her dark green
eyes seemed dead, there was no recognition for me in them, and she didn’t
appear to care that she didn’t look ridiculously put together.

“Maria?” I
asked, more to myself. I was afraid I was mistaken, there’s no way that the
person I was looking at could be my best friend. She just had to be an uncanny
look-a-like. There’s no way Maria would suddenly change like that, she wouldn’t
have just forgotten me.

The girl didn’t
move as I approached, “You don’t know me do you?” I asked.

She didn’t speak,
couldn’t even look at me, but she also didn’t object when I reached for her
right hand. There was only one sure way to know if the person in front of me
was Maria.

There was a
birthmark in a close to perfect circle on the underside of her wrist; I held my
breath as I slowly turned her hand over. There it was, my heart dropped, this
empty shell of a person was Maria. I couldn’t stop myself from wrapping her in
a hug. Any harbored anger I’d had at her was gone, I was just glad I had found
her.

 My touch seemed
to awaken something deep within Maria and she put her arms around me as well,
hesitantly at first, but eventually her hug was almost as tight as the one
she’d given me when her mother had first died. It wasn’t a friendly hug, it was
asking for support, in a way she was asking for help, Maria needed me to be
there for her and she was afraid if I let go she would sink farther into
despair.

After a few
minutes I realized my shoulder was wet, Maria had been silently sobbing the
whole time, her face buried in my shirt. I stroked her hair and hushed her like
my mom used to when I was hurting, which was all too often.

“Your name is
Maria Cole,” I whispered softly, “you were the most beautiful girl in our
entire high school, all the girls wanted to be you, all the guys wanted to date
you. You never got less than an A on anything in your entire life, and for some
reason, you were friends with me. Your mother committed suicide when you were
fifteen, but you made it, you helped your dad and brothers. Remember them? They
were twins,”

I carried on
reminding Maria of her life like this for almost a quarter hour. Eventually the
tears stopped and she lifted her head to look straight into my eyes. There
still wasn’t deep recognition of my face, but I was familiar to her now.

“Let’s go get
you cleaned up,” I said, “would you like that?”

Maria didn’t
answer, but she looked down at herself, seemingly taking in the state of her
appearance and didn’t object when I took her hand and led her into my room.

I called on the
shower again, when it appeared I helped Maria into a shallow bath, I tried to
fill it up further, but the moment the water reached past her navel she began
to scream as though she were being murdered. As soon as I drained it to just
below her belly button she was fine again, and allowed me to help her clean
herself.

Finally, she
began to whine and attempting to pull herself from the water, but her arms were
thinner than they had been in life, whatever had happened to her between death
and now had weakened her in a way much deeper than I could understand.

I retrieved a
towel and wrapped it around her while also pulling her into a standing
position. Without even thinking I reached over to grab clothes from off the
toilet where mine had been. I had helped her into the simple green dress and
black jacket and flats before I realized that the clothing hadn’t been there
when I walked in.

I looked around
to see if there was someone behind me, but the room was empty aside from Maria
and I. Maria touched my arm, scaring me out of my search. She was rubbing her
stomach and pointing to her mouth, a definite sign that she was hungry.

"Okay,"
I said. I took her hand and led her back into the main room. It only took me
two tries that time to get where I wanted to go, and the door actually opened
straight into the kitchen. Maria's grip on my hand tightened and I heard her
inhale sharply. Apparently she hadn't been expecting so many people, but she
didn't pull away when I dragged her into the queue waiting for food.

Each time I
attempted to remove my hand from Maria's clasp she would tighten her hold until
it felt like she would crush my hand.

"Maria,"
I said through teeth clenched with pain, "you're hurting me."

Maria's grip
lessened slightly, but there was still no way I could have gotten my hand out
of her grip.

As we neared
the front of the line my stomach began to growl with a new ferocity. I could
smell the food distinctly now and see trays of it in the hands of people going
to devour it. Waffles, not just one or two, but heaps of them, drowned in
syrup, a small pile of sausage and bacon and a tall glass of milk or orange
juice. Obviously, it was breakfast for dinner.

The same woman
I had seen at lunch earlier was doling out the food. When she saw me she almost
smiled, "You look a mite bit better than this afternoon," she said.

I smiled
tightly, helped Maria grab a tray and choose orange juice, and thanked the
woman for the food before hurrying away to find a place to sit. I knew it was
rude not to respond, but I was afraid a fountain of drool would have spilled
from my mouth had I tried to open it.

At first I
shoveled my food, Maria had released my hand when we sat down and I was using
my newly freed left hand to chase down sticky bits of waffle with sips of milk.
I had plowed through about half of my dinner before I realized Maria hadn't
eaten a single bite. She was looking at the fork and knife as if they were
foreign objects, then I realized they probably were to her. I had been stupid
to assume if she couldn't figure out how to wash her own hair that she would be
able to work a knife and fork without help.

I immediately
felt guilty for every bite I had consumed while Maria was sitting there staring
hopelessly at her full plate.

"I'm
sorry," I muttered.

I cut all of
Maria's food into small pieces, even the bacon and sausage. Carefully, I showed
Maria how to hold the fork, load it, and finally bring it to her mouth. She
tried to hold the fork like I showed her, but her fingers were too awkward.
Instead, she had to settle for fisting the handle like a toddler just learning
how to eat without their fingers. At first, the food didn't make it off the
plate, the next few came close to her mouth before either falling onto her
dress or the floor, then finally, a tiny piece of syrup soaked waffle made it
all the way from Maria's plate to her mouth.