Omega The Girl in the Box - By Robert J. Crane Page 0,50
scratchy, like a needle run over a record. He cleared his throat and tried again. “How are you?”
“How am I?” I looked at him with incredulity. “I’m fine. I’m a little worried about you, though.”
“Dr. Perugini said I’m okay.” He held something in his hand, and I realized after a moment it was a CD, and he lay it on the bed, the clear plastic case catching the light.
“I kinda doubt she examined you in the way I’m talking about,” I said. “I realize you’re fine, physically—”
“Well, we don’t have a psychiatrist anymore to make sure I’m gonna be all right mentally, so...” He shrugged fatalistically. “I guess I’m just gonna have to limp on in my own way, kinda like every other teenager who just lost a girlfriend.”
“That’s one way to look at it.” I edged a little closer to him. “Kind of a healthy way, too, I suspect.”
“Well, I’m all about my health here,” he said, waving vaguely to his body, which I admit, was well sculpted. In spite of being unserious about almost everything, working out and eating right was something Scott did almost to distraction. And it showed. Not that I noticed, of course, but because others had told me. And I saw him with a shirt off, once, at the beach. Maybe more than once. And not always at the beach. Anyway.
“I don’t think too many people have had their girlfriend completely forget them,” I said. “That might be new territory. Something you could stake your claim to.”
“Why does that matter?” he asked with a shrug. “Lots of people wish they could forget their breakups.”
“But Kat wasn’t breaking up with you,” I said. “She sacrificed her memory of you to save your life.”
“Yeah, I get that,” he said, and I saw a flush hit his cheeks. “She’s brave and self-sacrificing, and now she can’t remember me, or any of our little inside jokes, or that we slept together every night, or anything...at all...from the last nine months. I might as well not have existed in her life.”
I swallowed heavily. “I’m sorry, Scott.”
“Why are you sorry?” he asked, and his eyes were narrowed in genuine confusion. “You didn’t make her lose her memory.”
“It was my mission.” I sat down on the bed, leaving a few feet of distance between us. “I was in charge. It’s my fault that—”
“Listen to me,” Scott said, and all the brittle was gone from his voice. His eyes were lidded, puffy, but they burned with inner fire. “I want you to hear this, and maybe it’ll make me feel better, too. What happened at the safe house wasn’t your fault. You took a beating to keep us from dying, and without you, we’d all have croaked, I’m sure, after tangling with that big bastard. What happened in Iowa was Clary’s fault, because he’s an idiot. And we knew he was an idiot, that there was nothing but rocks in his damned skull. We would have been better off without him.” The last part was spat out like a curse. “No one on that mission could have controlled Clary. No one.”
“I appreciate what you’re saying—”
“But you’re gonna blame yourself anyway?” He looked away, and his hands came behind him so he could lean back, legs still draped over the edge of the bed. “Might as well. Plenty of that going around.”
“It wasn’t your fault either, Scott.”
“Nope,” he said, staring into the window on the far edge of the room, to the blue sky beyond the tinting that made looking out bearable. “Doesn’t stop me from blaming myself, though.” He shifted position a little. “Would you mind leaving me be? I kinda just want to be alone right now.”
“Sure,” I said with a perfunctory nod. “If you want to talk, later, I’ll—”
“If I want to talk, no offense but I’ll look for a more sympathetic ear,” he said, looking at me almost pityingly. “You’re a lot of things, Sienna—leader, badass, friend—but camp counselor you’re not.”
“Pretty sure friends listen to each other when they have problems.” I felt that curious clench in my jaw. “I want you to know...I’m here for you if you need—”
“Please don’t get sappy for the first time in your life, ever,” he said, and he looked at me with a hint of pity. Then after a pause, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, easing my way back to the door, which I drew closed behind me as I made my way out of the apartment.