Earthbound

I don’t care.

I don’t care.

“No, it was on the seat after you left,” he insists, still holding it out. “It must have fallen out of your pocket.”

I don’t know why he’s pushing this. “Benson, I’m not going to take some other girl’s ChapStick; that’s gross. This one’s mine.”

He’s looking at me funny. “But—”

“It really doesn’t matter, Benson. Just throw it away; I have to talk to you now.”

“Your loss,” he says, and tosses it in the air. It spins several times before he catches it. “You should switch to a new brand anyway. You’ve been complaining this stuff doesn’t work anymore.”

“It’s just the salt in the air,” I say, putting the cap back on my ChapStick. The one from my pocket. The one I know hasn’t touched anyone’s lips but mine.

Technically, if he made out with her before she put some on, Benson’s germs could be on there too. It makes my stomach feel funny, and I don’t like the simmering feeling. I twist the ChapStick in my fingers just to have something to do.

And maybe so I don’t have to look at Benson.

My fingers clench around the plastic tube for an instant, then the space where it had been is empty and my fingers touch together. “Holy crap!” I jerk my hand back.

“What?” Benson asks without looking at me, tossing the ChapStick again.

“It’s gone!”

“What’s gone?”

“The ChapStick!”

There’s a slight hesitation before he shrugs. “Look on the floor.”

“Benson!”

“What?”

I wait for him to look at me. “I was holding the ChapStick, and then it was gone.”

His face is a mask of confusion and he opens his mouth to speak, then closes it and just stares at me. Looking for something in my eyes.

“It disappeared, Benson,” I say, struggling to keep my breaths from turning into ragged gasps. “I was holding it and it literally disappeared.”

Another few seconds of silence pass before Benson swallows and holds the other tube out to me with a half grin. “Well, now you have another one.”

“Benson—”

“Jeez, Tave,” he snaps. “It’s just ChapStick. Take it or don’t, but it’s not mine.”

His sudden flare of temper shocks my thoughts and a second later I realize my cheeks are wet. It’s not crying exactly, but the tears are pouring from my eyes as though my emotions are leaking out. Good, bad, terrifying, exhilarating. I’ve just had too much today and now I’m overflowing.

And embarrassed. I’m completely out of whack.

I snatch the stupid ChapStick from Benson—I’ll throw it away later—then open my purse, looking for one of the many packs of tissues I keep in there. Since my parents died, I cry randomly in public on a pitifully frequent basis.

When I sniff, Benson looks up and his whole face crumples in regret. He reaches out, hands finding my shoulders. “Aw, Tave, I’m so sorry. I’m a total jerk. I—”

But I cut his words off with a sharp wave of my hand. I reach into my purse and pull out a tube of ChapStick. Then, just to make sure, I lift my hand and uncurl my fingers to reveal the one Benson just gave me.

Two. Three, if you count the one that disappeared.

I feel myself losing control and have to force a few breaths into my lungs as an awful thought occurs to me. With my hands almost numb in fear, I reach into my pocket again.

At first I feel nothing. But I dig deeper, into the bottom corner where the pocket lint tends to accumulate.

And pull out another tube.

Benson was right; it’s always in my pocket when I can’t find it.

I hold the three tubes out to Benson and he instinctively lifts his hands to take them.

I drop them into his palm. Benson has to see.

If Benson sees them, I’m not crazy.

Or at least I’m not hallucinating.

I reach into my pocket again and meet Benson’s eyes as I pull out another tube of ChapStick and place it with the other three already cradled in his hands.

Four. I reach again.

Five.

Six.

I don’t want them to cut open my brain again.

“You’re weirding me out,” Benson says, his eyes boring into mine.

“Ssh!” I hold my finger up to my lips. “Watch.”

“Tave—”

“Just. Watch,” I insist.

The seriousness in my voice finally gets through to him and he keeps his eyes on my half-dozen lip balms with a skeptical look like he’s waiting for me to pounce on him and yell “Gotcha!”

I wish.

I wish it were that simple.