Chapter Thirty-Two
Thirty-Two
I MAKE IT TO THE CLOCKER and she’s still sitting there with her eyes closed, attempting photosynthesis.
The pink light is so bright I have to squint. I glance back at Peter and he gives me a thumbs-up like a dad at a soccer game.
I take a breath. Okay. Fucking do it.
“Excuse me, ma’am?” I sound like a waitress at a Cracker Barrel.
The Clocker opens her eyes and looks at me. “Yes?”
“Hi.”
“Hi,” she says back. She doesn’t seem annoyed or excited or anything. Maybe mildly curious.
I rock back on my Converse. “Hi,” I say again. What am I doing? It’s like I’ve fully lost the ability to pretend to be normal. Just hand her the shit and run!
“Hi,” she says back, again, the trace of an amused smile on her face. “I’m Tanya.”
“Tanya,” I repeat. God, this is so fucking weird. Like, she has a name. And presumably a life (for the next twenty-five-ish hours, anyway).
Cargo shorts. A cat. The sun dressed as the Grim Reaper … The ideas for her Doom Doodles etch themselves in my mind.
“And you are?”
“Jordyn,” I say. I don’t know why I just lied about that. It’s not like she’s going to stalk me or anything. She wouldn’t even have the time. But it’s one thing to talk to a Clocker. It’s another for a Clocker to talk to me, like the actual me.
“That’s a nice name,” Tanya says.
“Thanks, I got it for my birthday.”
Tanya lets out a laugh and it’s not at all like I would’ve expected. Her voice is kind of husky and I would’ve thought her laugh would be deep and rolling. But it’s not. It sounds like how you’d imagine Tinker Bell laughs, all light and bell-like.
“That’s a good one. I’ll have to remember that,” she says.
I just stand there. Doing nothing, watching the seconds tick down over her head.
“Are you all right, honey?” Tanya asks.
Shit. I can’t have her asking me if I’m all right. “Totally,” I say.
My voice must’ve been just an octave too high because Tanya looks at me like I’m full of shit. She puts her hand over her eyes to shade the sun and lowers her voice. “Is it about that boy?”
“What boy?”
“The tall one across the street pretending not to look at us.”
I look back at Peter, who immediately acts like he’s deeply into his phone.
“We’re friends,” I say.
“I had a friend like that once,” Tanya says.
“What happened?” I ask before I can help myself.
“What always happens? I fell in love with him.”
“Oh,” I say, my cheeks suddenly hot. “Okay, well, this is for you.” I hold the bag out to her.
I know Peter would probably sit down next to her and ask her to tell him all about her love and if they’re still together or if he died in some misguided American war or whatever. But I’m not doing that shit.
Tanya takes the bag and looks inside. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Just … because.”
And I’m not sure if it’s the clock or Tanya herself, but when she smiles up at me, I get this surge in my stomach like …
holy shit. There are people all over the world dying right now.
But I’m standing here. With her. Giving her a Kit Kat and some used book.
And she’s looking at me like maybe she even knows that I know or something.
Which is probably my imagination, but like …
for this one second, it’s all right. This is just the way the world works. And it’s not bad. It just … is.
“Thank you,” she says.
And then, god help me, I give her a quick nod and then turn around and bolt across the street, to a chorus of honks, screeching wheels and a couple of “Fuck yous,” almost getting slammed into by a taxi.