A Soul's Kiss

by Debra Chapoton

  She reaches across the table and puts her hand on his. Before, when she touched Michael’s hand I had been ecstatic to feel the coolness of his skin, but her touching Tyler is laser hot, at least on my end. I put all my effort into moving myself up his freckled arm, hoping I can extract myself from Hannah somehow.

  I hear Hannah’s voice choking out a response one syllable at a time: “I—don’t—real—ly—know—her.” I scream in her head Tyler! and I make her move her mouth in those two syllables and she says, “Tyler.” She draws in a breath and seems to suck me back. I squeeze Tyler’s hand with hers, but she jerks away and I spin back, shocked by the foul language she directs at him.

  I know Tyler is leaving. I hear the seniors nearby tossing taunts and jeering at his back. I can’t look. Michael appears and Hannah speaks to me inside her head. I answer and she freezes in terror.

  Hannah

  Monday noon

  I thought I was going to lose my lunch. If Michael’s face reflected mine, a habit he has, then I must have looked pretty scared. I got up before he had a chance to sit down. We had twenty minutes left, enough time for him to drive me home. Or to the hospital. Not that I believed the stupid things that Tyler said. Like I’m possessed. Right.

  “You’re taking me home,” I said and didn’t wait for a response. He would know I meant right now. I could sign myself out and have my dad call in later.

  “What’d that kid say to you?” Michael caught up to me and touched my elbow, slid his hand down to mine and held it.

  “Nothing. I’ll tell you later.” We reached the door and Michael gave the hall monitor some bullcrap about band practice and she let us leave without a problem. Michael can get past anyone.

  “You get your stuff and I’ll pull the car up,” he said, dropping my hand and heading for the first exit.

  I headed to my locker then inexplicably raced up the middle staircase while mentally screaming back at the voice in my head. Shut up!

  I was not going crazy. This was just an aftereffect of the accident. Post traumatic something.

  I stopped at locker number 1116 and said to myself: this isn’t my locker. The voice in my head said it’s my locker. I’m Jessica. I know you can hear me. Try the lock. The combination is 38-8-12.

  I looked up and down the empty hallway before I took the lock in my left hand and twirled the dial with my right. 38.

  Now left and go past the 38 one whole revolution, slow down.

  8.

  Now just a bit to the right to the 12. Pull.

  I yanked the lock down.

  See? Do you believe me now?

  I didn’t have to rifle through the notebooks or books to find her name—there was a picture of her and Rashanda on the door, the words ‘best friends’ scrawled across the bottom. Sappy. And there was a swim practice schedule taped below it with Jessica’s name circled at the top.

  I’m sorry, Hannah. I didn’t mean for this to happen . . . for me to get stuck inside you. I’m in a coma actually. Maybe if we went to the hospital . . .

  I drowned the voice out by repeating a certain profanity over and over. I left the lock dangling and the door open and raced downstairs to my own locker, got my stuff, and tried not to think, not to hear her.

  Michael was parked in the pick-up zone. He leaned over and pushed the door open for me. I climbed in still chanting my vulgarities and curses.

  “Don’t ask,” I said. “Just drive. To the hospital. Now.”

  We went maybe a whole mile in silence, except for my whispered swearing, until Michael couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you sick? Are you . . . bleeding?”

  I snorted. I wished I was bleeding. Wait. Maybe I was. Maybe this was a brain bleed or something worse. No, I had to take into account what Tyler had said. As crazy as it was, I believed him now. I did not want to admit it, but . . . what a perfect payback.

  Payback? I don’t understand.

  Shh, go away.

  Michael was waiting for an answer. I said, “No, I’m not bleeding. We just need to see that girl.” I shot him a look. “That girl you like. Your little drama class friend that we were going to prank.”

  Prank? No, you were helping me. I got hurt and you were so nice and suggested taking me home.

  No, we were going to prank you. Take you to our secret spot. The others were on their way. We were going to get you high and then—

  “Uh, I can drop you off if you suddenly feel compelled to visit her. She’s not my drama class friend, by the way. She was just my suggestion for a victim. She seemed easy to fool. But anyway, I have to get back to school for next hour. Calc test.”

  Victim? Easy to fool?

  Do I really have to explain more, Jessica?

  “Just let me off under the canopy for the emergency room entrance. I’ll find my own way home.”

  I was pissed. He’s such a liar. I knew he liked Jessica . . . likes you. And he didn’t have a calc test next hour, and even if he did, they’d give him another day to study. He’s the great and wonderful Michael Hoffman and he was just in a serious car accident.

  I slammed the door.

  I kept up the conversation in my head. Jessica’s voice intensified once we went through the revolving doors.

  So, what room are you in?

  I don’t know. The last time I saw my body it was in a recovery room after my splenectomy. I’m probably in a private room now. My dad has good insurance.

  Yeah, rub it in.

  Sorry.

  I checked at the information desk and got sent to room 244.

  Those are my parents!

  “Hello. I’m Hannah.” Jessica’s excitement in my head made me angry. I tried to stuff her into some mental pocket of my brain. “I was in the accident with her. How is she doing?”

  “Sit down, please. Here.” Her father held out a chair for me. “I’m Joe Mitchell. This is my wife, Diane. Didn’t you go to school today, Hannah? Are you all right?”

  I wanted to cry. I bet my face was a dead giveaway because Mr. Mitchell patted me and Mrs. Mitchell started gushing all over me, too. They were so nice and Jessica hopped out of that pocket and began to whisper memories in my ear. Nice ones. She had a really great family, rich in a way I’d never known.

  I did cry and they comforted me and talked about Jessica and how she was going to wake up any time now.

  I tried to mentally scream at Jessica: Just jump back into your body!

  I’m trying. I think you have to get closer.

  Awkward. Maybe when your mom and dad leave the room I can.

  I got hold of my emotions then and calmed down. Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell talked a lot about Jessica, what she was into, her love of swimming, how she was going to try out for the school play. Blah, blah, blah. I learned a lot about her and for sure we would never have been friends.

  You don’t have any real friends.

  Well, that was a mean thing to say. But I wasn’t sure if that was Jessica speaking to me or my own conscience.

  * * *

  By two o’clock we were out of things to talk about and her parents asked if I would stay another ten minutes while they took a break. They didn’t want her to be alone, even though the nurses had come in and out of the room a couple of times. I said sure and after they left Jessica surprised me with the strangest request ever. I was so not going to kiss her. This was not Sleeping Beauty or Snow White or any other fairy tale.

  Jessica

  Monday afternoon

  Please, I say. That’s how I got into Michael’s head. I kissed his lips just as he was falling asleep.

  Hannah doesn’t answer me. I can feel her tension ratcheting up a notch or two. I probably shouldn’t have let her know that I got that close to him.

  He didn’t know I kissed him, I tell her. He stayed asleep the whole time. Anyway, I got inside his head and I learned some stuff.

  Hesitation grips me. I picture the scene I’d entered: Michael chasing after Rashanda. If I tell Hannah that memory, and what I sensed of Micha
el’s feelings, she might get too angry to help me. Anyway, it probably isn’t true. Michael couldn’t possibly be so horrible.

  I look at my pale face on the hospital bed. My hair has been brushed to a sheen and arranged on the pillow. Thanks to my mom, no doubt. I spy my brush on the side table next to a stack of cards. Wow, so many. And there are flowers, too.

  Can you read me the cards, Hannah, please?

  She doesn’t think her answer, just reaches for them and looks at all the signatures.

  And who are the flowers from?

  She grunts as she reads Rashanda’s name typed neatly on the little card stuck in the carnations. Tyler had brought a bouquet of miniature roses, yellow—my favorite.

  We argue then. Silently, of course, but Hannah berates Tyler in such a way that in order to shut her up I give her the memory of the dream kiss. That quiets her down for quite a while. But it’s a stupid mistake on my part.

  Rashanda

  Monday afternoon

  I walked out of class half expecting to see Jessica at her locker, which was about ten feet away. My belly did a forward roll when I saw her locker door hanging open. I scrambled through a mass of juniors and sheltered the door with my body. I whispered her name and wondered if I could be standing on her foot again and not know it. Her assigned locker partner was some mousy kid that had moved all her stuff to a band locker weeks ago. I didn’t have a clue who would have left it open like this.

  “She’ll make it,” someone said and patted me on the back. I looked at the faces of two girls whose sympathy was touching.

  Another girl joined them and they tried to encourage me with phrases like Everybody’s praying for Jessica, and Don’t worry, she’ll wake up soon and It’ll be all right. I tried to smile and nod, but inside I was wondering if I closed and locked the locker now was there a chance I might be locking her inside? I did it anyway.

  “Thanks,” I said to the girls and hurried on to my next class. I wondered about the open locker and decided that mentioning it to Tyler would give us something else to talk about after school. I could hardly wait.

  My last two classes dragged. I sat on the edge of my seat in last period, ready to escape the instant the bell rang. I didn’t know where to meet Tyler, but the door I usually used seemed logical.

  I stood outside and shivered in the October breeze. I had a windbreaker in the side pocket of my bag and Tyler showed up as I was pulling it on.

  “Hey-a,” he said. His half-smile was amiable, tinged with concern. We shared our secret knowledge with a quick blink.

  “Hi, so . . .” I slung my bag up.

  “Which way?”

  “Oh,” I pointed and started walking, “Fox Meadows South, not far.”

  He stuck his hands in his pockets.

  “No homework, Tyler?” I really didn’t know what kind of student he was. He hardly spoke in English class, but when called on he always had the right answer. Maybe he was one of those types who didn’t need to study much.

  “Just Spanish,” he answered, pulling a list of vocabulary words out of his pocket. “Arrojarse, encargar, chocar, pertenecer.” His pronunciation sounded good to me.

  We continued the small talk for a couple of minutes until we were off the school campus. We stepped around a group of smokers who were mocking the school rules by staying on the sidewalk to the south of the entrance driveway. Stupid idiots. Kids ruining their health on purpose was a sore spot with me because of my digestion problems.

  “So, you said we’d figure it out. Exactly what did you mean?” I asked this as we turned into my sub. I slowed my steps and turned my head his way.

  “I know where Jessica is,” he said, pulling his hands out of his pockets and pointing back toward the school. “She’s in Hannah’s head.”

  “What?” I dropped my bag and stood fully facing him. “She hates Hannah. How do you know?” I was talking too loud. I grabbed at the book bag strap. “We should go back.” I made a move to return and Tyler put his hand on my arm.

  “No . . . I, uh, crap, I talked to Hannah at lunch. I told her to go to the hospital to see Jessica . . . Jessica’s body . . . I, uh . . .” He paused and looked all around, dropped his hand from my arm, and finished, “Jessica tried to communicate with me, from inside Hannah.”

  This was not the way I wanted this conversation to go, not at all what I’d practiced. Having his hand briefly on my arm had sent a double chill through my body. Excitement and guilt. A few yellow leaves swirled at our feet and I scrutinized him as he looked down at the ground.

  “Tyler.” He looked up. “How did Jessica communicate with you?” I examined every tick of his facial muscles as he took his time explaining the entire lunchroom episode. I kept my face neutral, but inside my mind I was debating my earlier assessments. Who did he like more, me or my best friend?

  “So what should we do?” I asked when he finished telling me what he said to Hannah.

  “I don’t know. Maybe go to the hospital?” He pulled up his left sleeve and checked his watch. “My mom’ll be home in half an hour. I can use her car and pick you up. She’ll think I’m going to visit Keith.”

  “Won’t she want to visit him, too?”

  “Um, it’s complicated.”

  Oh, yeah, stepfamilies. I knew a little bit about that from my cousins.

  “So, I guess we can talk in the car then,” I said, “about the figuring out part. You don’t have to walk me all the way home.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, his face coloring slightly, “I’ll walk with you so I’ll know where you live.” He gave the cutest breath of a laugh and my heart lurched. On the heels of that happy thrill came my usual sensation of dread. I liked to say that things always work out, but in my life, nothing ever went as planned.

  At my driveway he simply said he’d see me in a little while and turned around. I watched him jog off and let myself sigh. When I went inside I left a note for my parents and said I’d be back for dinner. I even wrote down that Tyler Dolan was driving me to the hospital. It never hurt to give details like that.

  Thirty-two minutes later Tyler pulled in the drive, and, because I was watching for him, I scooted out the door before the wheels stopped rolling. I think he would have gotten out of the car if I hadn’t gone around to the passenger’s side. There’s something so gentlemanly about him.

  “Listen,” he said as soon as I sat down, “I, uh, know about the abduction. I know that Michael Hoffman is not a nice person. And I understand now why you thought they were kidnapping Jessica.”

  He fixed his eyes on mine like a hawk and that dreadful feeling returned full force. I looked down to buckle my seatbelt and resolved to be honest. And not to cry.

  I started slowly, “You know I work at the mall? Well, I do, and one night when I was leaving work my car, my mom’s car, had a flat tire. Michael and Hannah and two of their friends, Andrew and Brittany, offered me a ride home. I thought it would be safe, you know? I could have called my dad and waited, but having those cool seniors be so nice . . . I thought, well, what the heck. Michael Hoffman was all that Jessica talked about and I was curious to find out more about him.”

  Something changed in Tyler’s expression when I mentioned Jessica’s feelings for Michael. My heart sank. I didn’t want to have this conversation and watch his face. I wondered if he was going to put the car in reverse or just keep it idling here while I unloaded the whole disgusting tale. My stomach churned. I twisted a bit in my seat and pulled at my hair, straightening the curls through my fingers and letting them spring back.

  Tyler kept his hand on the gear shifter and asked, “So, they took you to some hut or shed or something? And Michael was going to, uh . . . take advantage of you?”

  “What? No, I don’t think so.” I thought back to how Michael had acted. “Wait . . . maybe. It was weird how he didn’t seem upset enough when they took Hannah away.”

  “They?”

  “Yeah, we had dropped Andrew and Brittany off and then Michael drove the
wrong way to my house and we went down a dirt road by the park. Somebody was hurt in the road . . . well, nobody was hurt really, but it looked like it . . . like there was a body in the road and Hannah and Michael got out to investigate. They called me over and when I got near them, a bunch of people with guns came out of the woods and herded us to that corrugated steel building near the back of the park.”

  “Guns? Like real guns? No . . . wait. They were paintball guns, weren’t they?”

  “Maybe, I don’t know.”

  Tyler nodded his head and I wished he’d put the car in gear and start driving.

  “Jessica saw your abduction when she was in Michael’s head,” he said. “When she got into my dream she left traces of memories behind. I’ve been putting it together.” His hand moved like he was finally going to take the car out of park. “The whole thing was a setup.”

  “That’s what you meant by figuring it out?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. Tell me, did the cabin have a mattress on the floor?”

  “Yes!”

  We stared at each other. I was uncomfortable, confused, but it was my turn to ask a question. “Do you know if Michael was in on the whole thing . . . my abduction? Was he really going to—” I didn’t have to finish my question because Tyler was moving his head in an unmistakable affirmation of what I suspected. “Huh, I can’t believe it. I thought he was the one who returned my purse to me. That he was the good guy, you know, under Hannah’s spell. I heard Hannah talking about victims at the football game, saying that Michael had chosen the next one, but I thought she was just giving him the credit. Or blame.” I glanced away so I wouldn’t read his face. “I wanted to believe that Jessica’s estimation of him was true and that he was some awesome guy worthy of her.”

  We were both quiet for a minute before Tyler said, “There’s something else. Crap. I don’t know how to explain it.” He gave a snort-laugh. “It’s kind of like that health class demonstration where everybody spits in their own cup of water and then you pour a bit into two other kids’ cups and everyone does it again. Remember?”