Free Prism by Faye Kellerman Page B

understand better.”

9
    It was a defining moment.
    “People get sick,” I whispered. “They don’t understand how to stop being sick.”
    Zeke was appalled. “How could you have a society with flat screens, email, computers, cell phones, and fax machines but no medicine?”
    “Then come up with something better.” I turned away from my bulletin board and faced the two of them. Zeke was too big for my chair. Joy didn’t seem at ease with her cigarette. It was as if she had stolen it from her mother’s dresser drawer—a kid in Mommy’s makeup.
    I took the cigarette from Joy’s fingers, crushed it under my foot, and threw it out of the window. “If there’s no such thing as better, you don’t need to have crap in your lungs.”
    “I…” Joy looked down. “I don’t know what to say.”
    I turned to look at Zeke. “You just coughed!”
    “I did?”
    “Yeah, you did,” Joy confirmed.
    I told him, “Cough again tonight. Ask your mom for a cough drop! She probably won’t even know what it is. That’s why Moose thought you were coming on to his girlfriend. There’s no such thing as a Heimlich maneuver.”
    “Kaida, calm down,” Joy said.
    I was talking too loud. I took two yoga breaths and tried to calm my thumping heart. “You’re both in denial!”
    I felt the tears come.
    Gah!
    I hate crying in front of other people. I sat on my bed, pulling my knees to my chin. My head felt safe in the space between my knees: nice and dark.
    “No one’s in denial,” Zeke said in hushed tones. “At least, I’m not. I’m just utterly confused. Like we’re here and everything’s the same, except it’s not the same. Like we’re in some kind of facsimile of our world…” His voice broke.
    I knew it was bad when a boy like Zeke got choked up.
    Joy’s voice was also shaky. “What’s going on?”
    “I have no idea, but something has radically changed.” I told them about how the hospital where my sister was bornhad disappeared from the picture on my bulletin board.
    Zeke put his hand over his mouth. “This is too weird. I need to think about this.”
    “And I need to get home,” Joy said. “My mother…she doesn’t care about me smoking, but she’s suddenly become a bug on time.”
    I looked up. “Take care of the arm. I’ll try to find some Advil.”
    “Yeah, me too,” Zeke said. “I’ll hunt around.”
    “We need to agree not to talk to anyone about it,” Joy said. “No one.”
    We all nodded.
    Joy said, “I’m beginning to believe Kaida…that medicine doesn’t exist.”
    “Or hospitals or doctors,” I said. “It’s either that or I’m going mad.”
    “Then I’m going crazy, too,” Zeke said. “I have to go as well.”
    But no one moved.
    Zeke said, “It’s going to look really weird if we all suddenly hang out together when we never did before the accide…before the dream.”
    “I agree,” I said. “We’ll keep a low profile. We shouldn’t hang out. But maybe can meet for a few minutes at lunch and talk about it tomorrow.”
    They both nodded. I dried my eyes and tried to appear as normal as possible. I walked them to my door and closedit softly after they left. Then I ran back to my room, stuffed my face into my pillow, and silently cried. But I wasn’t alone for long.
    “Knock, knock,” Jace called from outside.
    “Screw you,” I told him.
    He opened my door anyway. When he saw my red eyes, he swallowed dryly. “You okay?”
    “I’m fine. I’m having a bad day.”
    “Sorry about that.” He sat beside me on my bed and twisted my earlobe. I have the type of earlobes that connect directly into my head, hence earning me the loving name “Lobeless.” Jace had called me that since I was ten. He didn’t twist it hard, but I found it irritating.
    “Ow.” I swatted his hand away. “Something is wrong.”
    “I’ll say, Lobeless. I’m in your room of my own free will.”
    “Don’t call me that. I’m not in the mood.”
    Jace rubbed his hands together.