Body and Soul

Aha, I knewit!

“Not this time,” I said carefully. “Just visiting some other friends.”

He nodded. “Don’t forget, though, Ben said that one time he’d let me try driving his car.”

Um, okay. I didn’t know what to say to that.

Tyler looked so hopeful…and relentlessly dorky with the cowlick at the back of his head and his oversized polo shirt (orange, this time) and khakis. I had no idea why Mrs. Turner kept dressing him like a middle-aged golfer, or why he let her.

Huh. By comparison, Lily was the cool one in this family.

I straightened up a little as the realization dawned. Wow. That kind of explained a lot. Tyler was a geek and two weeks shy of starting high school. Hanging out with Ben, then, last year, even with his older sister along for the ride, must have seemed like the epitome of awesomeness.

Except…what kind of sister introduces her younger brother to an ass like Ben? And why would Tyler still want to hang out with him after what Ben had put Lily through?

Ben had been part of my crowd at school, but we certainly weren’t friends. He thought way too much of himself, nice body or not. He was slick and incredibly skilled at putting on the charm until he got what he wanted. Which, to my mind, wasn’t fair. Why give people—specifically girls with ridiculously low self-esteem—such hope? It was no challenge. Ben won every time…including with Lily.

From what I could tell in her diary, Lily had still been hoping for some kind of long-term thing with Ben all the way up to the end. Her final entry was about getting ready for that last party, the one where he’d publicly and brutally humiliated her and she’d driven off in tears…and crashed her car.

I bit my lip. Was it possible Tyler didn’t know the full story about what happened with Ben or at the party? I wasn’t even sure if her parents did. So, in Tyler’s mind, maybe Ben was still the good guy Lily had built him up to be. Ugh.

“Maybe next time,” I said to Tyler finally. That was the easiest answer. Telling him that Ben and Lily had broken up would only bring on a barrage of questions that I didn’t have the energy or information to answer in a Lilylike fashion. And since there was no way I was going near Ben Rogers in this body, and even less of a chance of my bringing Tyler…problem solved.

Tyler looked at me strangely. Probably because it was taking me about two minutes too long to respond to everything he said, but, hello! I had no idea what he was talking about most of the time. He should have been taking it easier on his potentially brain-damaged sister.

“You still owe me twenty bucks,” he said after a long moment, his head cocked to the side in evaluation.

“Yeah, right. Twenty bucks for what?” Feeling my patience evaporating along with my strength—God, who knew siblings were so much work?—I limped my way over to the desk chair, turned it around, and lowered myself into it with a sigh. It was wooden, old, and hideously uncomfortable, but still better than standing.

“For playing lookout? For keeping Mom away?” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “I had to tell her you were in the bathroom.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s a terrible idea. What if I hadn’t shown up when I did? You were going to tell her I was in the bathroom for hours?”

He popped up from the bed, face all red with fury. “Well, if you’d told me you were going to be gone, like you’re supposed to, then it wouldn’t have happened that way, would it?”

Oh, so there we go. The final piece clicked into place. Lily used him as her cover when she sneaked out, and she paid him. Got it.

“Twenty bucks to cover for me when I’m gone, and all I have to do is tell you I’m leaving. That seems fair,” I said cautiously. I could really use a setup like that when I went to Misty’s. And yet, looking at Tyler’s wary expression, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was doing something—everything—wrong. You’d think I’d have been used to that sensation by now, but I wasn’t. “I don’t have any money right now, though. Can I owe you or—”

He made a frustrated sound and looked away, seemingly close to tears.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, alarmed. Somewhere along the way I’d stepped in it again, apparently.

“What’s wrong with you?” he demanded, his voice breaking and his fists clenched at his side. “Who are you?”

I froze. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s like you don’t remember anything. You’re not even the same person—”

I gritted my teeth, feeling my grip on my temper start to slide. “Look, I said I would give you the money, but—”

“When have you ever given me money?” he shouted, flinging his ski

I gaped at him. “Were you testing me?” The little creep!

“No!” He swiped the back of his hand against his face. “I was just—”

“Then why were you asking when you know I always say no?” I asked, starting to get angry. This was hard enough without someone deliberately setting me up.

“Because that’s what the two of you do,” Mrs. Turner said from the doorway.

Tyler and I jumped in surprise, and it took everything I had not to look back at the window, which was still open, and the desk in the wrong place. It all screamed “unauthorized exit.” And how much of our conversation had she heard?

“You argue back and forth over silly things. That’s what you’ve always done,” she said to me. Then she turned her attention to Tyler. “Ty, baby, remember we talked about this?” She stepped into the room and pulled him to her in a sideways hug. “Personality changes, memory loss, it can all be part of your sister’s condition. We need to accept the differences until she finds her way back.”

But looking at me over the top of his head, she frowned, seemingly less than convinced suddenly.

Great. I felt a swell of frustration. This was all I needed: one more person watching my every move, holding it up to the Lily standard, a level of imitation I would never be able to attain.

Tyler pushed away from her, sniffling loudly, and fled the room. Mrs. Turner watched him go, with a sigh. After a second his feet thudded up the steps, and the door to the upstairs creaked open and then banged shut.

Mrs. Turner turned back to me, looking weary. “I know things are difficult for you,” she said. “But we’re trying, Lily…Ally. It would be nice if you could, too.”

I jerked back as if she’d slapped me. “I am trying,” I said through gritted teeth. In fact, all I ever did was try.

She shook her head. “You don’t want to talk to us.”

Because I kept saying the wrong things, which only upset everyone even more.

“You don’t want to look at the photo albums or home videos to help you remember,” she continued.

Hello, photos and videos without context don’t meananything. And if I tried to ask questions to get that context, it would only highlight exactly how much I didn’t remember, i.e., EVERYTHING. I was trapped.

“I offer to take you shopping, like today, or out to di

I fought the urge to shout at her, Duh! Sometimes I retreated to my room because I was avoiding the ghost of Gra