WAKE ME UP

CHAPTER 12

It's true that I don't know where Ben is or where he would go, but I check a few places anyway. Old Pollard's swamp and the roller rink.

My last thought is to check the loading docks behind the shuttered Walmart. Instead of finding Ben, my friends are there. Or at least Ashley, Aimee and Denise are. Lacey, they tell me, is dead. She fell asleep on the toilet, which makes them all laugh.

There's something terribly wrong. These aren't the friends I've known forever. What's happening now is turning them callous. It's turned them wild. The kind of wild an animal feels when it's caught in a trap and doesn't think twice about gnawing off its leg.

I still care about them, even like this. I know it's not entirely their fault.

I share some of my mom's Ritalin with them. They're grateful but want more. I tell them that's all I have on me, and it's the truth, but I get the sense that no matter how much I gave them, it would never be enough.

I'm able to slip away from them again, and I find myself back home. I don't know where else to go or to look.

I'm about to head inside when I notice a car parked in front. Someone is inside but not getting out. They're just sitting there. I crane my neck to get a better look. It's Ben.

I walk to the passenger window. I don't have to knock because Ben notices me and pops the locks. I climb in.

We sit there in silence for a long moment, not looking at each other. I guess neither one of us knows what to say or how to be. He finally tells me he just started driving, and this is where he ended up.

He's troubled; I can feel it. Even without seeing him.

He eventually says he needs to tell me something. But he still can't find the words.

"I know," I finally say, helping him out.

"Know what?" He's looking at me now, trying to make sense of what I said.

"I know that you're an android. A stand-in."

He's surprised by this. He's more than surprised.

"So, have you always known?" he asks, slightly horrified. "Has everyone known?"

I tell him I just found out today. I tell him I don't think anyone else knows, just my mom, that's all. He's only slightly reassured.

"It's okay," I tell him, and I mean it. It's okay. He hasn't done anything wrong. He isn't anything wrong. He's "Ben."

We sit in silence a little longer, then slowly start to talk. It's the first real talk we've had since the accident. Or rather, ever, I guess, in some ways.

He tells me what he remembers about the accident. He tells me what he remembers about us, and I do the same. I fill in some of the blanks and try not to worry about the rest.

His memory has always been fuzzy. He thought it was normal. But now he knows why.

He wonders what's real. What's the real Ben, and what's the stuff his parents created? What's the stuff they left out?

He asks me if I think his whole existence is a lie. It's his life, but not. And now everyone he knows will sleep and die, and he'll be left to live alone.

"Although I guess as an android, I'm not technically living, only existing," he says with as much sadness as anyone.

I tell him I could stay with him if he wants me to. I could stay with him for as long as I can. For as long as I can stay awake.

He doesn't say anything, but I can tell he doesn't want me to go.

I wanted to tell Ben I loved him. It's my bucket list of one. But Ben is dead, and I'm not sure how I feel. All I know for sure is I don't want to go, either. I want to stay here with "Ben."

"Let's take a drive," he finally says. "Let's keep driving and never stop."

This sounds so familiar to me. It feels so familiar. And I want to do this with Ben, and I tell him that. But first, I need to check on my mother.

We both climb out of the car. We're halfway up the front walk when Ben stops. He's thinking about something, and I ask him what it is.

"Do you think it's possible that you died, too," he says, an apologetic ache in his voice.

I know what he's asking, but he clarifies anyway. "Do you think it might be possible that you died in the accident and that you're a stand-in like me?"

"No, that's not possible," I answer. "I would know."

Ben doesn't ask again or push for a different answer, even though we both know what I've said is questionable. "Ben" didn't have any idea. Just some fuzzy memories. But we all have fuzzy memories.

"My parents think I drove into the lake on purpose," he says, dropping one part of the subject and picking up another. "Why would I do that?"

"They're wrong, I was there."

"But you don't remember."

"I remember enough. You had everything to live for. We both did."

He seems satisfied with my answer.

"We both do."