Highly Illogical Behavior Page 5

  “You wanna start by explaining these walls? It looks like a hospital room in here.”

  He laughed. And when he laughed, Lisa took her first full breath since walking through the door.

  “I just like it that way, I guess.”

  “Minimalist.”

  “Huh?”

  “Minimalist,” she repeated. “Very trendy right now, actually.”

  “Oh,” he said with a shrug. “Lots of stuff makes me feel closed in.”

  “You’d hate my house,” she said. “My mom can’t stand an empty wall. If she had good taste in art, that might be okay. But it’s all roosters and cheap landscapes from Wal-Mart. She had a cow print phase a few years ago that I almost didn’t survive.”

  Another laugh. She was definitely sensing that he was starting to appreciate her humor. And he seemed a little less anxious than when she’d arrived. Complete sentences were a good sign.

  “I think maybe it’s because I’m inside so much,” he said. “I guess I like the idea of my room seeming endless or something.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I like that. Or maybe you could just imagine whatever you want in here.”

  “No,” he said. “That’s what the garage is for.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  A few minutes later, as he opened the door that led from the laundry room into the garage, he looked at Lisa with a very serious expression and then let the door slowly open and stood to one side. She stepped through the threshold, and he watched her without saying another word.

  The entire garage had been painted a deep, solid black and was covered with a bright yellow grid. It was one of the strangest things Lisa had ever seen, and she had no idea what she was looking at.

  “Have you ever seen Star Trek: The Next Generation?” he asked, walking to the center of the room.

  “A couple times,” she said. “My boyfriend watches it. I sort of wish everyone on earth had Patrick Stewart’s voice.”

  “Your lips to God’s ears.”

  She shut the door behind her to find that even it had been painted to match the pattern of the room. Square after square of blackness, highlighted with these intersecting beams that covered not just the floor and walls, but also the ceiling.

  “This is my version of a holodeck,” he said. “On the show. Well, on several versions of Star Trek, they use a room like this for simulated reality. Training, to solve puzzles, things like that. It’s nice, right?”

  She was a little caught off guard that he was suddenly speaking to her so casually, the nerves in his voice barely noticeable anymore. As someone who worked very hard to get the things she wanted in life, this was a level of devotion that Lisa could appreciate. And all she could think about was how much Clark would love it.

  “So, then, what do you do in here?”

  “Well, I come in here, I sit down in the middle of the floor, and I just think stuff up to entertain myself. They say using your imagination makes you live longer.”

  “They do say that,” she agreed. “So, you just think stuff up and picture it happening all around you?”

  “Sure,” he said. “You don’t ever do that? Imagine being somewhere else?”

  “I think about being in college,” she said. “All the time, actually. Far away from Upland.”

  “Yeah, so, it’s like that. Except the college part. I don’t think that’s in my future.”

  “You never know.”

  “Yes you do,” he confirmed. “What do you want to study?”

  “Medicine,” she answered. “Not sure what kind yet, but being Dr. Praytor is definitely part of the dream.”

  “No wonder my mom likes you so much.”

  “Can I try?” she asked, walking over to the center of the room and sitting down.

  “Oh . . . umm . . . sure.”

  “What do I do?” she asked.

  He walked over and sat down beside her. This was the closest they’d gotten, their knees nearly touching, and she could tell it made him tense up a little.

  “Okay. Close your eyes,” he said. “I mean, if you want to.”

  So she closed her eyes, and it was so quiet in the room that she could hear his breathing.

  “Okay. Now open them,” he said. And she did. And she saw a black room with yellow squares covering it and a teenage boy staring at her in the dark with a grin on his face.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Do you see it?”

  “See what?”

  “We’re in a field. It’s so green. All around us. And there’s a kite in the air. You see it?” He pointed up toward the ceiling.

  She looked up, seeing nothing but the same yellow squares from corner to corner and then looked his way. He was mesmerized by the room around them. His expression like Heaven had opened up to swallow the Earth. Was this guy for real? Kites? She wasn’t scared of him, not at all. She was just suddenly realizing that maybe she couldn’t help him.

  “Lisa?”

  “Yeah,” she answered.

  “I’m just fucking with you.”

  NINE

  SOLOMON REED

  And he was. The holodeck garage wasn’t a place for him to imagine elaborate settings and interact with fictional people or anything. It was a garage painted to look like something he loved. And that, in and of itself, was all he needed it to be. Just a place to escape when closing his eyes wasn’t enough. Sometimes, like after the panic attack he’d had a few days before, it was the only way he could block it all out and try to reset his thoughts.

  “That’s not funny,” she said, holding back a nervous laugh.

  “The grid’s actually yellow tape,” he said. “Took forever.”

  “Oh wow,” she said, feeling the tape with her fingertips. “You bring every girl you meet to this creepy room?”

  “That is funny,” he said, hopping up from the floor and reaching a hand down to hoist her up.

  “Thanks.”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  Solomon and his family had a shorthand way of showing their affection for one another and it usually involved poking fun at even the most serious things. Just the week before, he called his dad a “dork” and was met with a simple and quick “recluse” and thought nothing of it. They were just like this—smart enough to make fun of themselves before anyone could beat them to it.

  “No worries,” she said, nudging his arm.

  It was only her elbow and only for a quick second, but it still felt foreign and strange and exciting to him. And, without even realizing it, he gently held the spot on his arm where she’d done it as they walked out into the living room.

  “Thanks for the tour,” she said.

  “Please stop by the gift shop on your way out.”

  “You sound like Clark.”

  “I guess that’s your boyfriend?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Been together a while now.”

  “I didn’t think I could remind anyone of anyone.”

  Lisa laughed and shook her head. “It’s a compliment, of course.”

  “What’s he like? I’m betting he doesn’t have a holodeck.”

  “Well, he’s a water polo player. Smart but not a know-it-all. His mom’s a nightmare, but his dad’s cool. They’re divorced. He’s tall, but just a little shorter than you, I think. The season just ended and he’s depressed about it or something because he’s been, like, flaking a lot lately . . . with everyone but me. I tried talking to him about it, but he doesn’t like to get too serious. It’s a problem, really, but I’m working on it.”

  “Okay . . . that was a lot of information on Clark. Got it.”

  “Also, he hides his comic books under his bed when his friends come over. How stupid is that?”

  Lisa clicked around on her phone and handed it to him. It was a picture of her and Clark, in formal we
ar, taken at some school dance or something.

  “Tell me why someone who looks like that would ever be embarrassed of anything.”

  “No clue,” Solomon said quickly, barely glancing at the screen. “Looks like the king of high school to me. I’d die there, wouldn’t I?”

  “You watch too much TV,” she said. “High school isn’t what you think it is.”

  “Isn’t it a little, though? He hides his comics.”

  “So, maybe a little,” she said. “But you’d be okay at it, I bet.”

  “Is there a fountain?” he asked with a half-serious expression.

  “You’re very different from what I expected, Solomon Reed.”

  “I hope that’s a good thing.”

  “Absolutely.”

  He was glad she didn’t stay too much longer because, despite having had a good time, all that talking and trying to come up with new things to say or questions to ask was making his head hurt. Then, as soon as he shut the door behind her, he started to feel like he couldn’t catch his breath. He leaned against the wall for a second, trying to breathe through it, hoping he could shake it off. But he couldn’t. Now hyperventilating, he stumbled down the hallway and into his bedroom, where he crawled under the covers and rode it out, his body shaking from side to side, his eyes closed so tightly they were starting to hurt. It was brief but intense, and afterward Solomon just lay there listening to his breath as it leveled out. Sometimes that’s all you can do when it happens—hold on just long enough for the world to stop shaking. There’s a reason people mistake them for heart attacks and every time it happened to Solomon, a little part of him wondered if maybe his chest would explode. Other times, he wondered if that would make it all better.

  “So . . . how’d it go?” his mom asked when she got home from work.

  “Good,” he answered. “She’s nice.”

  “Solomon,” she said sternly, “use your words. It’s all I could think about today. I should’ve just stayed home. How you talked us into leaving you alone for this, I will never . . .”

  “Sorry,” he interrupted. “Yeah . . . she came over and I showed her around. We just talked a little. No biggie, Mom.”

  “Did you show her the garage?”

  “Maybe.”

  “That may be something you want to ease your friends into.”

  “Friends? Mom, don’t blow this out of proportion. Who knows if I’ll ever even see her again?”

  “I don’t care about that,” she said. “What’s important is whether or not you want to see her again.”

  Solomon thought about that for the rest of the night. He’d already given his parents so much more hope than they’d had in a long time just by seeing Lisa. So now he had two choices: He could refuse to see her again and break their hearts, or he could keep going along with this whole friend thing and see what would happen.

  • • •

  The next morning, he woke up to what he thought was the world ending. He’d imagined it before—watching from his window as flames fell from the sky with the news on loud in the background and neighbors screaming, maybe even his parents running into the room to hug him one last time. But he’d never imagined it to be quite so loud, with a roaring coming from all directions. Maybe it was an earthquake, he decided, jumping out of bed and running over to stand in the doorway. He waited there for a minute, the adrenaline waking him up with every nervous blink of his eyes, and eventually realized that the house wasn’t even shaking.

  He ran out to the living room and before he could even get to the sliding glass doors leading to the backyard, he could see what was going on. There was a bulldozer digging a very large hole behind his house.

  “No way,” he said aloud.

  There was no going back now, was there? He had very few surprises in his life and this one hit him hard. He took a seat on the edge of the couch and leaned forward, letting his head hang between his legs. He covered his ears and closed his eyes and let himself sway a little on the balls of his feet. Maybe there wasn’t an earthquake, but the world still vibrated and shook all around him. His thoughts stabbed him like knives and suddenly his shoulders were so heavy he could hardly keep from falling all the way down to the floor. He gasped for air, his lungs never getting full enough to satisfy him. If someone had been home, they would’ve heard it, the sound of someone suffocating on his own breath. It sounded like he was dying, and it felt that way, too.

  He composed himself after a few minutes, grabbing a glass of water in the kitchen and taking a seat at the counter. His thoughts still spiraled, and his body ached with a lack of energy that only came after a sudden attack like this. Could he go out there for them? Would he be able to go outside without freaking out? Would it kill him?

  Then he thought about Lisa. She had no idea what she meant to them, did she? She probably felt like some stranger invading their personal space and she definitely was, but she could very well end up saving them all. And what the hell was he supposed to do if she didn’t want to come back? What if just a little over an hour with him was enough to satisfy her curiosity? He wouldn’t be surprised one bit if she never showed up again, and now he felt bad about that, too.

  Around lunchtime, Solomon was doing his schoolwork at the kitchen counter and watching the backyard with one eye. A couple of times, he made eye contact with a few of the crew guys and immediately put his head down like it had never happened. He didn’t like these strangers walking around in his backyard, right there where he could see them from all angles of the living room and kitchen. This was his inner sanctum, and it was being violated by loud machines and strangers in work boots.

  He thought about going to the garage, but the one little dim lightbulb wasn’t enough to solve matrices under. He settled on his dad’s office, figuring it would be quiet enough if he shut the door. Then, as soon as he got started, he was interrupted by the telephone. He only ever answered it if his parents were calling or if he recognized the number. But, despite that not being the case, Solomon had a feeling that it was Lisa Praytor. So he picked up.

  “Hello.”

  “Solomon!” Lisa said with a burst of enthusiasm.

  “Hello,” he repeated.

  “What’s up? Me? I’m currently skipping study hall to make photocopies for a Student Council fund-raiser. This is my life.”

  “Oh,” he said. “I’m just . . . doing homework actually.”

  “Oh, yeah? I didn’t even think about that. I guess it’s all homework for you, right?”

  “Right,” he said.

  “Look, umm, what’re your plans on Saturday night?”

  “Lisa, we’ve been over this.”

  “Right,” she chuckled. “So, you want some company?”

  “Are you serious? Yeah, sure. I mean . . . there’s not much to do around here.”

  “There are no boring places, only boring people,” she said with confidence.

  “All right,” he said.

  “Great. Be there around six if that works for you.”

  “Of course,” he said.

  “Great. See you then, Solomon Reed.”

  “Bye.”

  So she wanted to come back. A real-live teenage girl who could’ve spent her time doing all sorts of normal teenage things with other normal teenagers wanted to come hang out with Solomon Reed on a Saturday night. It was enough to make his stomach start gurgling and his head get a little woozy. There was no denying it. Now he knew it to be absolutely true: He had a friend. And he was terrified of her.

  TEN

  LISA PRAYTOR

  As a freshman, Lisa had taken and passed the only AP psychology course at Upland High School. In fact, she scored higher on the exam than anyone else in the class of mostly juniors and seniors. But, it was simply an introduction to the field of psychology and not nearly enough to qualify Lisa as any sort of psychological expert. She
was only seventeen by a few months. But, she believed in herself maybe more than other people believed in God or the devil or Heaven or Hell. She knew she was right. And she didn’t need a textbook to prove it. Now, with her second session with Solomon on the books, she was feeling more confident than ever that she could get him out of that house and get herself out of Upland.

  After school on Friday, she ran home to change clothes and grab a snack before heading over to Clark’s. She didn’t expect to see her mother, but her car was in the driveway when she pulled up. Her mom worked a lot, and when she wasn’t working, she tried to spend as little time as possible at home. Lisa figured she either hated her or hated Ron the stepdad. Either way, she was there today, on a weekday afternoon before five, and it was weird. When Lisa walked in, she saw dirty dishes on the counter by the sink and heard the television at an ungodly volume coming from the den. She tried to sneak through without being heard, but her mom was yelling her name by the time she got to the refrigerator.

  “Lisa!” she shouted from the living room. “Is that you?”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “Come here, honey!”

  She walked around the corner to find her mother lying on the couch, a big fluffy quilt covering her all the way to the chin. Lisa couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her mom during a workday.

  “Are you okay?” she asked her, picking up the remote and muting the TV.

  “Just nursing a cold, sweetie,” she said. “Talk to me. I’m lonely.”

  Lisa took a seat across from her on the recliner that was usually reserved for Ron the stepdad. Ron hadn’t been around for days though, so Lisa wasn’t sure what was going on. They did fight a lot and it wouldn’t surprise her to find out that he’d left for good this time. Just like Tim the stepdad did two years before. And Lisa could tell the difference between sick and sad.

  “A cold, huh?”

  “Don’t talk back, Lisa.”

  “That wasn’t talking back,” she defended. “Where’s Ron?”

  “Business trip. At least that’s what he told me.”

  “Do you think he’s lying or something?” Lisa asked.