look like a girl,” she finally said. “Hair, arms, legs—the usual stuff.”
He laughed, but she hadn’t meant it to be funny. She didn’t want to be discussing her looks with him. A sudden thought unnerved her. What if one of the nurses had alluded to the fact that she was less than perfect-looking? That something was wrong with her?
“But tell me about yourself. Are you tall, short, athletic? What color’s your hair and your eyes? I’m not trying for your vital statistics, just a mental picture.”
“Well.…” She drew out the word, stalling for time. “What do you think I look like?”
“That’s not fair. No matter how I describe you, you can agree or disagree, whether it’s true or not.”
“I won’t. Tell me, what’s your mental image of me?”
He squirmed, and she knew she’d put him on the spot. But he’d put her on the spot too. “All I have to go on is your voice.”
“How does my voice make me sound?”
“Your voice makes you sound friendly.And nice.” He appeared more comfortable with this third-person approach—this pretense that her voice was a separate personality.
“And what about the color of my hair? Can my voice give you a clue about that?”
“Blond?”
“Dark brown.”
“Straight?”
“Like a board.”
“Long?”
“Long,” she confirmed. “And what color does my voice say my eyes are?”
“Um—blue.”
“Brown.”
“I like brown eyes. My favorite color.” He grinned gleefully, caught up in the game.
“Oh, puh-lease …” she drawled dramatically.
“You don’t believe me? It’s true. In the first grade I had a crush on a girl named Trianna Lopez. She had the most beautiful brown eyes.”
“Fine. Sit there and talk about another girl in front of me.” Carley pretended to be miffed.
She didn’t fool him. Kyle laughed and said, “She was only six!”
“I forgive you.”
“I’ll bet you’re tall.”
“Only five foot three. I’d never make the basketball team.”
“That’s all right. I’ve never had a thing for jocks.” He toyed with her fingers still nestled in his hand. “I’ll bet you’re thin too.”
“Average.”
“There’s nothing average about you, Carley.”
She felt her face blush crimson. If only he knew how unaverage she really was. “So now are you satisfied? Do you have a picture of me?”
“Sort of.”
“Well, here’s what I’ve learned about
you
, mister,” she said, poking him playfully with her forefinger. “You’re attracted to tall, willowy blondes with blue eyes and straight hair. I, on the other hand, am a not-so-tall brunette with brown eyes and straight hair.”
“One out of four isn’t bad for a guy in my situation,” he insisted.
For a second she thought he might get melancholy remembering that he was blind. Quickly she said, “All right, one out of four is good.”
He sat still, his face turned fully toward her. For an eerie moment she thought he might be able to see through his bandages. “What now?” she asked.
“There’s another way I could satisfy my curiousity a little bit. If you’re willing, that is.”
“How?”
“You could let me touch your face. You know, explore it with my fingers.”
Eight
K yle wanted to touch her face. But if he did, he’d know for certain something was wrong. Carley got an instant picture of his fingers tracing along the caved-in area between her left eye and nose and recoiling in horror. He’d ask,
“What’s wrong with you?”
and she’d have to tell him that she was a freak. That just like Humpty Dumpty, all the plastic surgeons and medical geniuses couldn’t put Carley Mattea back together again.
“I know you’re still here,” Kyle said, “because I’m still holding your hand. What’s wrong? Did I upset you?”
“No,” she said, a little too quickly. “I hada shooting pain in my leg. I was gritting my teeth until it went away.”
With those words Carley realized that she’d crossed a subtle barrier. Before,