Beautiful: Truth's Found When Beauty's Lost Part 24

"You don't mind, do you?"

It wasn't like they were dating. They had no commitment, so what could she say? "I don't care what you do."

"Great. I was thinking of meeting her at that new coffeehouse downtown."

"That'll be fun," Ellie stated dryly.

"I can see if it's a place you'd want to go, or if it's too crowded."

That was it. She didn't want him there any longer.

"You want to watch another episode?"

"No. Why don't you go meet your friend?"

"Okay." He took another handful of popcorn and left. She heard him say good-bye to her parents, who were watching TV downstairs.

Ellie jumped up and paced her room. Spotting the little paper birds sitting on her desk, she took her fist and smashed one, then another, until they all lay flat and crumpled.

"I hate his stupid birds. I hate him!" And she cursed under her breath and smashed another already flattened bird.

After a few minutes, she picked one up. Its wings were sprawled out, its beak twisted. It reminded her of the book about the seagull who wanted to fly better and higher than all the others.

She grabbed the box from the accident off her desk and hurled it across the room.

And the rage inside continued. She thought of Stasia reaching for the stereo just as that deer stepped out. And then she died. Just like that, her life was over. Was that better or worse than the suffering Ellie now lived with?

Ellie's parents were so stupid for always trusting her, always thinking she'd make the right choices, always expecting the best. And what was up with Ryan suddenly a.n.a.lyzing her-she hated that, hated him for trying to figure her out. What business did he have saying things like that to her? And where was Megan tonight-out with some boyfriend she'd never told her sister about? They were supposed to be close now. Then she thought of her old friends and the school faculty and administration, that stupid girl who still e-mailed, wanting to put on a rally in Ellie's honor . . .

Ellie wanted to scream, to make her hate list, to get it all said or shouted or to hurt someone. Maybe she'd text Will and tell him to never come back. She fell back onto her bed and closed her eyes. The rage inside settled down, and weariness took over. She got up and went to take a bath.

Awhile later, as she watched TV, her phone beeped.

Will: Still sulking?

Ellie: No.

Will: What r u doing?

Ellie: Watching Heroes.

Will: Without me?

Ellie: You left.

Will: Ah, don't be that way.

Ellie: I'm not.

Will: She's a friend.

Ellie: How old?

Will: Twenty-two. And yes, attractive. But I'm not attracted. She's like a big sister.

Ellie clenched her jaw and threw the phone down. It beeped a moment later.

Will: Don't be jealous.

Ellie: I'm not!

Will: Yes, you are.

And she wondered if she was.

Will: I would have stayed if you had asked.

Ellie: I only wanted you to stay if you wanted to.

Will: I wanted to stay, but I wanted you to want me there.

Ellie: Okay.

Will: I miss you.

She smiled.

Chapter 18.

THE OUTSIDER.

The No-Longer-Anonymous Blog about Life at West Redding High

May 3 I've been busy. Finals are coming. So I'm writing quotes, that's something, and very helpful. So here's today's: "Carpe Diem" (Seize the Day). -Horace Let's do!

Ellie sat in her pajamas and ate syrup-drenched waffles and crisp bacon with her parents on Sunday morning while Mom called again and again for Megan to hurry up for church. Ellie promised she'd watch the service online as usual.

"I still don't like it. Honey, make your daughter come to church with us."

"One more month, 'k? Then I'll probably go," Ellie said and somewhat meant it.

"She'll come when she's ready, dear," Dad said as he poured Mom and Ellie more coffee.

Mom frowned. "Everyone asks about you."

"Well, tell every single one that I appreciate it and wish I could be there."

Megan was coming down the stairs and acted like she was gagging over Ellie's words.

"You better hurry up, Megan, or you won't get any waffles before church," Ellie said with a grin.

Twenty minutes later, Ellie stood at the door with a cup of coffee in her hand and smiled triumphantly at Megan as she walked past to join their parents in the car.

"You're good. It's pretty conniving to use your accident to stay away from church."

Ellie shrugged. "What can I say? If you've got it, use it."

"But unlike me, you actually like church."

Ellie didn't respond but turned back inside. Megan was wrong. She liked church, past tense. Now she didn't know if she liked or disliked it. She hadn't been there in months, and though at times she felt a sense of G.o.d being with her, mostly He was either so far away or He'd never existed in the first place.

Listening to the sermon, Ellie wanted to tell her pastor that she had made the right decisions. She didn't drink or do drugs. She was still a virgin. She'd gone on a mission trip, been a winter camp counselor, been "involved." And that didn't count any of her school activities. She had given her entire life to doing good things. So why hadn't G.o.d saved her from all of this? Where was G.o.d when she was trapped inside that car?

The pastor talked about faith, and she picked up enough to pa.s.s the Q&A Mom would give her when she got home. The churchy language bugged her. All the things people said to their family and to Ellie in cards and e-mails: G.o.d's not finished with you yet.

G.o.d has a plan for your life.

He saved you for a purpose.

We thank G.o.d for saving you.

There is always something to be grateful for, even in our darkest hours.

When G.o.d closes a door, He opens a window. That one didn't make any sense to her at all.

The pastor said, "We say that we believe in G.o.d. But only when your faith is tested do you really find the measure of your faith."

Ellie closed her laptop and turned on the TV. She wasn't going to let the G.o.d stuff get her down. Today, she felt pretty good . . . actually, really good. Stronger, healthier, and without pain.

The house was quiet and all her own for an hour or two. She padded barefoot to the office, looking for a piece of paper. She wanted to make a plan for redecorating her room, and there were supplies she needed for a sewing project Megan was going to help her with.

On Dad's desk calendar, her name caught her eye. Thursday. 9:00 a.m. Surgery.

The waffles suddenly knotted in her stomach, and her mouth tasted sickly sweet.

Four days. Another surgery in four days. Mom had reminded her recently that another surgery was coming. And Ellie had done everything to ignore it. Life was finding a rhythm, and she wasn't ready to interrupt it.

This surgery would be on her face again.

She'd be starting over. They'd peel off the papiermache scars that weren't as bright and raw as before, and her healing would start over again. The ointment, the missing skin, the itching, the bright red evidence of her injury. The pain.

Someone was knocking on the front door.

Ellie walked toward the door with heavy steps. She was turning the k.n.o.b when she remembered that she never answered the door-not since the accident. She wanted to slam it shut and peek through the side window to see who it was, but it was too late.

Opening the door a crack, she peered out.

"h.e.l.lo, Ellie." It was Stasia's mom, and as soon as she saw Ellie's face, Mrs. Fuller started crying.

Ellie opened the door and let her in.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't think I would cry."

Mrs. Fuller wiped her eyes with the Kleenex Ellie gave to her. She sat on the couch, and Ellie put on the teakettle, hoping for a distraction. Perhaps this would be a simple little visit, and Ellie could get back to finding ways to delay the upcoming surgery.

"It's okay. It's understandable." She hoped the kettle would whistle soon.

"I've wanted to see you for a while." Mrs. Fuller wiped her eyes again. "But I just couldn't. Did you get my flowers in the hospital?"

"I think so." Ellie really didn't remember. So many people had sent balloons and flowers that it was hard to keep track. Mom had sent the thank-you cards.

"Oh, that's fine. I just didn't want you to think anything bad because you hadn't heard from our family."

Ellie knew what she meant. Mrs. Fuller didn't want Ellie or her family wondering if Stasia's family harbored any resentment toward them because Ellie had lived and Stasia had died.

Mrs. Fuller folded her hands. Her eyes were just like Stasia's. "You were the last person to see her alive. Just being here with you is really nice for me."

Ellie s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably on the chair, glancing at the clock. Her family wouldn't be back for another hour or more if they went to lunch or if Mom talked after church.

"Ellie. Do you remember what happened?"

This was the question she'd hoped to avoid. She wished people would think the accident had been wiped from her memory. That happened all the time to accident victims. If only it had happened to her. Instead, Ellie remembered nearly every detail, even if a sort of thick, surreal fog surrounded it all.

The teakettle whistled in the kitchen.

Ellie nodded, and Mrs. Fuller moved forward to the edge of the couch, waiting.

What should I say? Ellie wondered. The images came back. She and Stasia were side by side, one dead and one alive. What made one of them chosen and one of them not?

Stasia had loved horses and animals. She had to test her insulin level, eat healthy, worry about the future her disease might cause. Now she was dead. Surely her mother had worried about her daughter as mothers do. And none of that mattered now. The worst had happened.