Ghost Time

was so awful, my mouth fell open. Not exactly, she said, but I’ll be working part-time now, which is better than nothing. I said, I’m so sorry, Mom, because I didn’t know what else to say.
    My mind started reeling, trying to figure out what we’d do, where we’d go, what I could do. I’ll try to get a job, after school, Isaid, and I knew it sounded dumb, because if there were any jobs, my mom could get one, too. Thanks, babe, she said, smiling, but not wanting to talk about that yet. Looking at her face, I felt so bad, because I spend so much time keeping her out of my life, keeping away from her in every possible way; I forget how much I need her. But the thing is, I’m almost afraid of how much I need her since she just isn’t very strong anymore.
    What else? I asked, sensing she hadn’t told me everything, and she dropped her head side to side, shoulder to shoulder, a few times. You’ve gotten lots of offers, Thea, people offering a lot of money for your story, Thea, and then I knew, seeing the look in her eye. She lost her job, and we needed money, and people wanted to pay me to talk about Cam and me. To tell my story, right, but how could I do that? On the other hand, look at our house. Look at where we are. How could I say no, knowing how badly we needed money? So, I said, there, almost laughing, almost crying, just covering my mouth: What do I do?

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 28, 2010
    (FOUR MONTHS EARLIER)
    9:54 PM
    I must’ve seemed like a prude, I stopped him so many times. I’d finally told him just about every secret I have to tell, but I still wouldn’t let him touch me. For like two months, soon as he’d reach under my shirt or touch my skin or just about anything, I’d tense up. Like even my sleeves, anything above my knees, I’d pull away. Like it was fine if he touched me over my clothes, but never under, and I’d always turn out the light, too. Then, one night, after I told him about Spencer’s party and everything with the hospital, Cam goes, Thea, why won’t you let me see you? And I said, You can see me.
    He goes, No. You won’t let me see you; you won’t let me touch you, he said, and he wasn’t pushing—Cam never pushed. He just wanted to understand what was going on with me, and he could tell—I mean, of course he could tell, when I wouldn’t even let him touch my bare arms, something’s not right. So, finally,I decided I’d told him that much, I might as well show him. So I sat up, and I turned on the light, and I got up. I go, I don’t let you see me, and I don’t let you touch me, because I have scars all over my body, and he looked at me, and I took off my sweatshirt, so he could see the scars up and down the inside of my biceps, both sides. Then I took my shirt off and let it fall on the floor. And I unbuttoned my pants, starting to pull them off, and he reached—I’ll never forget that, that he reached to stop me, like I didn’t have to do that, and I shook my head no. I did have to do that, because I needed him to see. I needed him to see me, all of me, not just 3 percent.
    So I took my jeans off, and I stood there, in my bra and underwear, and I turned around in a full circle, so he could see them all. He was sitting up, on the side of my bed, then he reached for my hands, pulling me to him, and he goes, Oh, baby, what happened? And I thought about it, where to begin, then I told him: Me. I happened. I did it to myself. That’s why they sent me to the hospital, my mom and dad, I said. Because I couldn’t stop cutting myself, and they couldn’t get the drugs right.
    I didn’t tell him, but at that moment, I remembered what Brandon had said about me, after that night, that party. He told everybody I looked like I’d been in a slasher film, naked. God, the way Cam was looking at me, the moment he brushed a tear away from his eye, on the back of his hand, and then he said, Come here. I swear, I don’t know what I was more afraid of, that he would touch me or that he wouldn’t. Come here, he said, in a softer voice than before, so I stepped forward. I felt so brave,but only for a second, and then I got a chill, and I’m standing there, covered in goose bumps and scars: gross . I felt as sexy as a raw chicken breast, and I laughed, because I was so nervous, so naked. And then I felt choked up, looking at him, holding my face in his hands, looking into those big gray eyes of his, thinking, What’s happening? How or… where do I know you from?
    Please, let me