Free Chemistry by Jodi Lamm Page B

come home until I hear Valentine playing the organ.
    That’s when I run to the bathroom and throw up.
    My hands are shaking. My whole body feels like pudding. I can barely stand. I lie down on the cold tile floor in one of the bathroom stalls. I don’t even care whether it’s clean or not. I just need to feel the solid ground beneath me. I need to trust in something because I can’t even trust myself any more. Events have been set in motion, and I know I’m powerless to stop them. I make no choices. This is the path the universe will take. This is my fate. I’ve already eaten the forbidden fruit. I’ve already tasted blood. I’ve already flushed my soul down the toilet. I have given everything for one girl. And she doesn’t even know who I am.

BOOK EIGHT
    The hand on my forehead is rough but gentle. It’s Valentine’s hand. I know this without even opening my eyes. I feel like something ripped me to pieces, and then a kid came along with some Elmer’s and stuck everything back together again. Even my eyelids and mouth are glued shut.
    The last thing I remember is pressing my cheek against the cool bathroom floor to stop the dizziness. Now I’m shivering in a cold sweat.
    Valentine turns my head to the side and puts an electric thermometer in my ear. I can’t stop shaking. I feel the wet cloth he uses to mop the sweat from my face. I hear the thermometer chirp, and Valentine pulls it from my ear. “One-oh-four,” he says. His monotone voice is music to me. And I know that he is speaking aloud, though it’s not his preference, in order to keep me from having to read his signs. “You stay here.” And he’s gone.
    I stare at the ceiling from my mattress on the floor. Valentine must have carried me here from the bathroom. I can’t imagine how he reacted when he found me there. I’m supposed to be the one caring for him.
    If only he knew… He wouldn’t be doing this if he knew.
    He returns with a bottle of medicine, shakes it, measures it, and makes me drink it down. It’s the kind of sweet that burns, and I can’t help but be reminded of Lily Darling’s mascara-stained face. Which reminds me of Phoebus. Which makes me want to throw up again.
    What if he’s dead? Oh God, what if he’s dead?
    I can’t let Valentine see my panic. If he ever found out what I’d done, I don’t think I’d want to go on living. Valentine is all I have. I don’t even have Gene any more. I don’t even have myself.
    “Sleep,” Valentine says. He speaks as little as possible, but I know what he’s really trying to say. He’s seen how awful I look, and he’s begging me to let go of whatever is troubling me, just until I’m healthy enough to deal with it. He’s like somebody’s mother, honestly. But the truth is I half believe this fever was brought on by my own nearness to hell. This situation. This fate. I’ve already been condemned. Maybe because I never really believed in God. Maybe because I only wanted to, and so I pretended I did.
    I shake my head to rattle my own thoughts into obedience. I can’t dwell on this now. Valentine will see.
    “The medicine will make you sleep.” He stares down at me with his one good eye, and I know it’s useless trying to hide anything from him. He can tell something else is wrong, but he won’t pry. He’ll keep acting like things are normal. He’ll practice his scales and pretend not to notice my terrible descent. He’ll do whatever he thinks I want him to do. That’s what Valentine always does. Only this time, I wish he wouldn’t.
    I don’t want to fight the drugs, so I stare up at the ceiling again and wait for them to work. The last thing I crave right now is consciousness. Who knows what I’ll face tomorrow? I don’t want to think of it.
    II
    I’ve decided to fight one obsession with another. There’s got to be some task I can pour myself into, some ridiculous, impossible brand of alchemy I can take on. If I try to weave a web big enough to capture the sun,