Midnight Sun Read online

Page 14

It’s when I’m alone that I find myself on the verge of a constant panic attack. I’m terrified about what might get taken from me next, not to mention what will happen once there’s nothing left to take. I don’t want to leave this planet. I’m not ready. I probably never will be.

  Basically, everything that’s happening to me physically since that morning on the beach has been horrifying and terrifying and terrible. The only upside I can see is that at a certain point it at least stopped being surprising. So there’s that.

  “Sometimes the only way to deal with the really bad stuff is to laugh at it,” I tell my dad. “Now let’s go watch Charlie get his scholarship to Berkeley back.”

  “One, two, three, run!” my dad says, grabbing his keys.

  I pull the strings of my hoodie as tight as they can go, until only the tiniest bit of my eyes are showing. Dad and I used to play this game to get me to the car for appointments when I was younger. I appreciate the nod to tradition today.

  Naturally, the preparations for the ride took much longer than the ride itself. We’re at the Purdue High natatorium in less than ten minutes. Dad parks as close as possible to the building, and we make another dash inside.

  It’s humid and sticky on the pool deck. I immediately start sweating underneath my many layers of clothes. I go to unzip my hoodie.

  My dad reaches out a hand to stop me. He points at the wall of windows on the opposite side of the pool. The midday sun is streaming through, splashing rainbow colors onto the puddles of the pool deck. “Don’t. It’s not safe.”

  “What’s the worst thing—” I start to say again, but then I notice the worry lines on my dad’s forehead. They seem to have grown in size and number over the past few weeks. “No problem, Dad.”

  We climb into the packed stands and take a seat in the corner of the highest bleacher, where the sun can’t possibly hit me. I see Charlie’s parents sitting in the front row. Zoe’s there, too, along with her crew. She sees me and gives me a fake smile and wave. “Hi, Katie Price!”

  “New friend of yours?” my dad asks.

  “Old enemy,” I reply, waving back and giving Zoe an even faker smile than the one she gave me. So she figured out who I was. I feel surprisingly calm; it’s like Zoe has lost all her power over me. The worst has already happened. Nothing she could do to me would ever compare.

  Then I spot the reason we’re all here: a fit-looking man in a Berkeley polo shirt holding a clipboard, furiously taking notes, a stopwatch around his neck. He looks up and notices me noticing him. I give him a smile and a thumbs-up. His lips curve up almost imperceptibly, but I take it as a good omen anyhow.

  “Next up, the last event of the day—the finals of the men’s two-hundred-meter freestyle!” the announcer booms. His voice bounces off the tiled walls. Cheers erupt in the stands. The place feels completely electric.

  The swimmers file out and take their places next to their respective starting blocks. I silently bemoan the fact that everyone looks the same in their Speedos, swim caps, and goggles. I crane my neck, trying to figure out which guy is Charlie. He texted me earlier that he’d be swimming in lane one, but that can’t be right. The block is empty.

  Charlie’s parents clutch at each other. Dad turns to me and raises his eyebrows. I shrug and shake my head like I have no idea. He’s supposed to be there. Berkeley man stops writing and glances down at his watch and then back up impatiently.

  I hold my breath. And then, like magic, there he is. Charlie looks so powerful, so strong, so goddamn good, I want to jump out of the stands and throw my arms around him.

  The other swimmers are splashing water on themselves, shaking the nervous energy out of their arms and legs. But Charlie just stands there looking cool, calm, and collected. He grins at his mom and dad.

  He keeps searching the stands with his eyes, looking through bleacher after bleacher. My dad finally lifts his hand and points down at me. I push the hoodie off my head—Dad doesn’t object this time—and wave. Charlie breaks into a huge smile and pats his heart. I pat mine. It’s our new code: Amor vincit omnia. Love conquers all.

  Charlie nods. He’s ready to go now.

  “Set,” the announcer rumbles.

  The swimmers get into position.

  BEEP!

  And they’re off. The competitors spend most of the first lap underwater. I’m breathless just watching, so I can’t imagine how they must feel.

  Suddenly, they all break to the surface. The graceful silence is replaced by water churning beneath determined arms and legs. To me, it seems like all the swimmers are in a tie. It’s still anyone’s race.

  Charlie’s parents grip each other’s hands. The Berkeley coach looks up at the clock on the scoreboard, then back at the pool. The swimmers head into lap number two.

  The guy in the lane next to Charlie starts pulling ahead. Everyone else stays in a tight clump behind him. I stick two fingers into either side of my mouth and whistle as loudly as I can, trying to motivate Charlie to go faster, faster.

  The swimmers flip, turn, and rocket into the third lap. The guy in the lead puts even more distance between himself and the rest of the pack. Come on, Charlie, I think. This is your big chance. Give it everything you’ve got. Your future depends on it.

  One lap to go. Charlie is still behind, in third or maybe even fourth place. I leap to my feet and start screaming, cheering as loudly as I’ve ever cheered for anything in my life. I hope he can hear me. I know how many hours he’s been putting in to get back into shape. I know he’s done everything he can to prepare for this moment. I know he can do it.

  And then I see it. He’s surging. He knows he can do it, too.

  Charlie’s arms pump harder, harder. He glides through the water. He’s coming on strong. Coming up fast. He passes the guy in third place, and then the one in second. But there’s still too much space between him and the swimmer in first. Winning now seems close to impossible.

  But Charlie just keeps on gaining. And then it happens. His hand touches the wall before anyone else’s. He WON!

  I keep screaming. That race was probably the most exciting thing I’ll ever witness. Totally worthy of getting hoarse over.

  Charlie pulls himself out of the pool, shoulders and biceps and abs rippling. Then he takes off his goggles and heads for the stands. I can’t help myself; I go running down the bleachers toward him. Toward the light. Dad follows right on my heels.

  “Stay clear of the sunny spots, Katie!” he reminds me. I stop short of where Charlie is standing.

  The Berkeley coach grabs him for a quick talk, then heads out the door. I start toward Charlie again, but then his parents intercept him. So Dad and I hang back, waiting. Finally, Charlie breaks free from all the well-wishers and scoops me up in a hug.

  “You were so good!” I yell.

  He puts me back on the ground and beams at me. “I was, wasn’t I?”

  “You really were! What did the Berkeley guy say?”

  “He said he was impressed and would be in touch.”

  I beam back at him. “In touch is good! I’m so proud of you!”

  My dad nudges his way between us, giving Charlie a hearty wallop on the back. “I guess the rumors about you are true,” he says. “Congrats, Charlie. You were a maniac in the pool.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Price,” Charlie says. “And thanks for letting Katie come.”

  My dad looks down at me and smiles. “She wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

  Charlie’s smiling at me, too. “Mr. Price? Would you mind if I borrowed Katie tomorrow night?”

  I put my hands together and give Dad a cute look, like I’m begging him to say yes. He finally nods. “I think that’ll be fine, Charlie.”

  After one last hug, I pull my hoodie tightly over my head again and we make a break for the car. It seems that everyone else did the same, though; the parking lot is jammed. Five minutes later, Dad hasn’t even backed out of the space.

  I’m staring out the window, exhausted from the out
ing. I’m so glad I was here to witness Charlie’s success. But all I can think about now is getting home and going to bed.

  I’m just about to nod off when I see Charlie and his parents leaving the building. He runs up to our car and puts his palm up against the blacked-out backseat window. I put my hand against his from the inside. I’m pretty sure he can sense I’m there.

  Mr. Reed taps on the front window and my dad rolls it down. “I just want to tell you and your daughter how much your support has meant to Charlie,” he says.

  I yell “Same!” from the backseat even though I’m pretty sure he can’t hear me.

  “He’s a wonderful young man,” my dad replies.

  “And, by all accounts, your Katie is wonderful, too,” Mr. Reed says.

  I wish I could get out and meet him now, but the sun is shining high overhead at the moment. Too risky even though I’ve already been exposed.

  “I just wanted to tell you how happy I am our kids found each other,” Mr. Reed continues. “There are a few people, or moments, in a person’s life that change our story. She’ll leave her mark on him forever. And him on her. Even though it’s not meant to last. As I told Charlie, all you can do is be grateful for the experience, and be grateful she came into your life.”

  I whip out my phone and text my dad. Tell him amor vincit omnia!

  My dad pauses, looks down at his phone, then looks back up and laughs. “Katie wants you to know that love conquers all,” he tells Mr. Reed.

  Mr. Reed laughs along with him. “Well, now, I do believe that’s the truth.” He taps the back window next to where Charlie and I are virtually “holding hands.” “Be well, Katie!”

  I pat my heart and press my palm against Charlie’s some more. Amor vincit omnia, I think. Love conquers all.

  23

  Charlie picks me up the next night right on time. I have on another new outfit—ordered online with my dad’s blessing. I did my hair and put on makeup carefully, painstakingly. It’s getting harder and harder to do even the simplest things lately, but I don’t want to miss any chance I might have left to look and feel young and beautiful and alive.

  My dad snaps another prom picture of us before we leave, and I don’t even protest this time. I don’t even feel embarrassed. I just try to feel grateful for the experience, like Mr. Reed said we should. The anxiety that seems to be with me every waking moment lately fades into the background. It’s just a little hum instead of a huge shriek.

  Charlie holds the door to his truck open for me. I climb in. My dad waves good-bye to us from the front porch.

  My hands are trembling in my lap as Charlie hops into the driver’s seat. I try to shove them under my legs to hide my shakiness, but he reaches over and takes my hands in his. Then he brings my fingers up to his mouth, kisses them individually, then places my hands back into my lap.

  I give him a little smile. He’s the only one who could take the awkwardness out of a moment like this. His being so kind doesn’t make my situation any easier to accept, but it does make me realize how lucky I am to have him in my life. I settle back into my seat, psyched to find out whatever Charlie has up his sleeve this time.

  We pull into the parking lot of a nondescript warehouse-looking place half an hour later. I start smiling and can’t stop. “Another pop-up concert?”

  “You really think I’m that uncreative?” he says, shaking his head. “Wrong. Come on. You’ll see.”

  “I’ll see what?” I ask, following him excitedly.

  “You’ll see when we get there.”

  Charlie leads me into what looks like the starship Enterprise’s control room. There’s a huge mixing console the size of a car with zillions of buttons and levers on it, plus multitrack recorders and digital workstations. Beyond the glass in this room is a studio, complete with musicians getting their instruments ready to perform.

  I take it all in. I can’t believe I get to see an actual recording happen tonight. It’s like a dream come true. “Who are we here to see?”

  “Oh, you mean those guys?” Charlie asks, flicking a thumb in their direction. “They’re here for you.”

  A cool bearded dude approaches us before I can even begin to process what Charlie has just said. “You Katie? Let’s do this.”

  “Oh my God, no, no, no—” My eyes get huge and I have the sudden urge to go plan a fake cat funeral. I make a break for the door, but Charlie blocks it.

  “Yes, yes, yes, yes.”

  “How did you? What are…? This is crazy!” I stammer. “How are we paying for this?!”

  Charlie shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”

  This can mean only one thing: He basically just spent his life savings on me. Money he worked so hard for this summer and the summer before that and the summer before that. I know how much a professional recording costs. Way too much. I’m overwhelmed by his generosity. Tears, which are always close to the surface lately, start pooling in my eyes.

  “Charlie, no! That’s your truck money! You worked so hard for it. I can’t let you do this!”

  “It’s already done,” he says, grinning at me. “Besides, most colleges don’t let you have a car on campus as a freshman.”

  “Berkeley called?” I say, reaching out and putting a hand to his cheek.

  “Not yet,” he says. “But I’m feeling pretty confident they will.”

  “I’m really, really proud of you,” I tell him. “Whether it’s at Berkeley or somewhere else—you’re going to set this world on fire someday, Charlie Reed.”

  “And you already are, Katie Price,” he tells me. “Now go. Do this. You helped me figure out my dream. It’s payback time.”

  He starts pushing me gently toward the studio. I stop him and hold up my hands. They’re shaking.

  “I can’t play anymore,” I whisper, my stomach a hot pit of fear and shame.

  He takes my hands in his and stares into my eyes. “Just sing. Pretend it’s just me.”

  I nod and try to tap into all the positive vibes he’s sending me. He spins me around and pushes me toward the studio. I step through the door into the center of the room. I feel unsure and nervous. I guess I can blame my shaking on that instead of the real reason. Then no one has to feel sorry for the poor dying girl and lie to her about how great her song is if they really don’t think so. Maybe I’ll finally get some honest feedback from real musicians—people who really know talent.

  The guys in the band nod hello as they finish tuning their instruments. The engineer clicks on the speaker from the other room. “Whenever you’re ready, Katie, let’s lay one down…”

  I’m ready now except for one thing. The song choice. I have no clue what I’m supposed to sing. “What are we playing?”

  The guitarist, a tattooed, pierced linebacker of a guy, hands me the sheet music everyone in the studio has. I read the title. “Charlie’s Song.”

  “This—this is my song. I’ve been working on this!” I exclaim, almost to myself. I look up to see Charlie smirking at me through the window of the control room. “How did you get this?”

  Charlie clicks the speaker on. “I stole your notebook again.”

  “You wrote this song?” the guitarist asks.

  He looks like he doesn’t quite believe me when I nod.

  “Not bad,” he says with a smile.

  I smile back at him and put on my headphones. The drummer counts off a beat and the band starts playing. My song. Charlie’s song. It sounds even better than I ever imagined it could.

  Music swells around me, and then it’s time for me to come in. I step up to the screened mic. I start to sing, softly at first. But with every note, I gain a sense of confidence I didn’t even know I had in me.

  I close my eyes and sing for everyone I love. I picture my dad developing awesome photos from an exotic trip he takes not too far off in the future. Morgan and Garver still together, even after they head off to different colleges in the fall. Charlie gliding effortlessly through the pool at Berkeley, racking up just as ma
ny records there as he did in tiny little Purdue, Washington. And my mom playing her favorite song by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young.

  “I have walked alone, with the stars in the moonlit night,

  I have walked alone, no one by my side.

  Now I walk with you, with my head held high,

  in the darkest night, I feel so alive.”

  When the song ends, I know I’ve nailed it. Charlie is watching from the control room, recording it all with his iPhone. He nudges the engineer, who nods. Do I even see amazement in their eyes? Because I’m amazed at what just came out of me, too.

  On the ride home, Charlie and I are both still giddy with excitement. Neither of us wants the night to end, which is how we always feel. Charlie pulls off an unfamiliar exit well before we’re back in Purdue.

  “Where are we going?” I’m resting my head on his shoulder. Feeling at home. Like somehow everything is right in the world despite everything that’s wrong in mine.

  “I want to show you somewhere I come to think sometimes,” he tells me.

  The truck climbs higher and higher until Charlie pulls over and cuts the engine. He gets out of the cab and comes around to my side, opening the door and offering me a hand.

  He points at the sky. I look up and gasp. It’s like a million stars are staring back at us. Like this overlook is the doorway to heaven itself.

  We climb into the back. He’s got blankets and pillows and a thermos of hot chocolate waiting there. He pours us each a cup, puts on lids, and hands one to me. I snuggle into his arms.

  I take a sip and point up at a star. “Can you name that one?”

  “That’s Charlinium,” he says with a laugh. “Because it’s really huge and powerful.”

  I roll my eyes at him and point to another.

  “That one’s Burritorium, because it’s in the shape of a burrito.”

  “That’s Procyon, silly,” I tell him. “Eleven light-years away.”

  He turns to look at me. “So we were about seven when that light was made?”

  I nod. “Good math. That was also when you got your first skateboard, right?”

  I watch Charlie’s eyes grow wide. “How did you know that?”