by Kristie Cook
“You know something, you’re stingy with words. You have to work on that because it’s seriously starting to tick me off,” I say rashly, trying to make sense of what he is saying. At the same time, I am trying not to be discovered by a car full of angry Delts.
“Okay, let me spell it out for you then. Will is dead. Will died a long time ago. Will has no physical body; he is a spirit,” Reed says with an edge of irritation.
“Will’s a ghost?” I ask, forgetting to hide now as I straighten up. I scan Reed’s face for any sign that he could be teasing me. He looks completely serious, so I wonder if my life can get any creepier.
“Yes,” he replies, “I think they mostly prefer to be called souls, but ghost will do for now.”
“Of course. Let’s be PC about it,” I say as I shiver. “What’s he doing here?”
Reed turns toward the porch again and says, “Will was a little angry with God for having survived the war, only to come home and die of cholera before his wedding.”
“What war?” I ask, trying to see if I can glimpse Will lurking in one of the windows of Central Hall.
“The Civil War,” Reed replies.
“Sure … the Civil War, what was I thinking?” I stammer sarcastically, trying not to go into shock over the discovery of a dark side to my newest ability. “Well, it sounds perfectly reasonable to me. I’d be a little annoyed, too, if I were Will … so you’re saying Will can’t get into Heaven because he’s angry at God?” I ask, feeling that it is a harsh judgment.
“No, Will is welcome whenever he chooses to go. He just has not chosen to do so,” Reed says calmly as if I am a petulant child.
“Oh, so he’s being stubborn?” I ask for clarification, feeling a little guilty for jumping to the wrong conclusion.
“That seems to be the human condition around here,” Reed replies.
“Am I going to see more ghosts … I mean souls, like Will, from now on?” I ask him, hoping he will reply in the negative.
“Yes,” he replies.
My eyes narrow, “And you didn’t think this was information that I would need prior to stumbling across one?” I ask angrily.
“Evie, they are just like most humans,” Reed tries to explain, but I cut off his argument.
“No, Reed, they aren’t like most humans. Most humans I know aren’t dead. They have pulses, Reed … they breathe, and other humans can see them,” I fire back at him.
“I didn’t come here tonight to debate souls with you,” he says with a sigh, turning aside my argument.
“Just why are you here then?” I wonder, instantly dropping all of my anger as it sinks in that this is the first time I’ve been able to have a conversation with Reed since formal, and I am wasting it.
“I was checking on you. You sounded different tonight,” he says in a gentle tone, and I watch him as he puts his hand to his forehead, rubbing it.
“I did … you were, what? Listening to my heart again?” I ask, and smile when I see him frown.
“You were really afraid at one point, and then you …”
“What did I do?” I ask quietly, watching his face for clues.
“Your heart started … singing,” he says as his eyes soften.
“Oh? Ohhhh! Reed, you have to see this. Here,” I say, pulling him back behind Central Hall, “stand right here. Don’t move.”
I turn away from him to adopt a runner’s starting mark stance. “Watch this!” I call over my shoulder. Then I shoot up out of the crouch as fast as a splash of yellow lightning sprawls across the darkened sky. I run by the library, and then turn and run back, feeling the rush of wind streaming through my hair as the scenery rolls by me at excessive speed. The entire circuit takes me only a few seconds. Approaching Reed, I slow down as I leap at him, hoping he will catch me.
When he does, I wrap my arms around his neck and say, “What do you think of that?”
“There aren’t words in your language,” he says softly, and then he kisses me with all of the intensity and passion that I have craved for the past weeks.
My entire body melts against his as I kiss him back. His grip on me is fierce as if he has lost control, so I press my advantage. “I’ve missed you so much, Reed,” I whisper against his lips. “I won’t give you up. I can’t.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” Reed says, turning his head as I begin kissing his neck. “Sometimes we do not get what we want, what we long for. Sometimes we are asked to sacrifice what we want,” Reed says sadly, holding me tightly in his arms.
I stop kissing him. Straightening, I search his stormy-green eyes again. “But that’s cruel,” I murmur warily.
Reed laughs mirthlessly. “Ask Will if he thought that dying right before his wedding was cruel, and then ask him how much he enjoyed watching his love marry his best friend. Maybe then you will begin to understand that what I am saying is relevant,” he explains, setting me back on my feet in front of him.
My eyes plead with his as I say, “You are wrong, and I will prove it to you. No matter how hard it is. You are meant for me.”
“No one wants to be proven wrong more than I do,” Reed says tiredly. “Everything about you calls to me. Your skin begs me to touch it, and when I do it burns me like a drug and I want more. You are like a cut that never heals. I just keep bleeding,” Reed says while he disengages from my embrace. He nudges me gently toward the front of the building. “You had better hurry, your friends are waiting for you in the parking lot, and I can hear Remy’s car, filled with angry frat boys, coming down the street.”
“I don’t care about that,” I say, but Reed interrupts me.
“I have to go, Evie. I should not have come here tonight … I could not stay away, when I heard your heart,” he says, and turning away from me, he is gone in an instant.
“Reed!” I yell, but he doesn’t come back. “You love me …”
Buns and Brownie are in the parking lot when I pull myself together enough to make it to the car. Jumping in the backseat, I mutter, “Remy’s on his way; we’d better go.”
I change back into normal clothing as Buns speeds away unseen. We go to the library as planned, emailing the ransom photos to the Delt House web master under a contrived user name. We go back to our dormitory, and I say goodnight to the girls. I stay awake awhile, trying to figure out a way to disprove a negative. How am I going to get Reed to see that Russell and I are impossible, that only he and I are right for each other?
***
“What a bunch of whiny little mama’s boys!” Brownie rants when we all meet up in her room after classes the next day. “I honestly didn’t think they’d get the administration involved with this, since this is what they do to us every stinking year!”
“Sweetie, I told you we shouldn’t have given Remy a four. He’s the president, and we totally owned him,” Buns says, thoroughly enjoying every second of this. She and Brownie had been hauled in for questioning by the Dean of Men because the Delts had reported the theft of the composite and named them as suspects.
Buns goes over every nuance of the interview with Dean Andrews in minute detail. He couldn’t make them confess to anything, so he had to let them off with a warning. “Anyway, it’s nearly time for karmic retribution. Our whole house is ready,” Buns announces to Brownie and me.
“All right, mount up, we’re moving out,” Brownie says as she tightens the thigh holster of her automatic paintball gun.
The fitted camouflage cargo pants and t-shirts we purchased for the occasion look excellent on her. She hands me the yellow-tinted shooting glasses that complete my equipment. I check the safety on my paintball gun as we head out to the Golden Goose and drive out to Arden Lake. When we arrive, I see that trenches are already dug on the sandy beach with ammunition set up at intervals along them. Buns and Brownie give a rousing speech about payback for the rating system, which gets the girls fired up. I make sure that my backpack is well stocked with paintball ammo and get into position in the trench between Buns and Brownie.
The Delts prove to be wily adversaries, we realize as we watch several carloads of young men arrive at the beach. They recruited just about every freshman boy they could find to aid them in their war against us. They are uncharitable about it as well, using the freshmen as infantry soldiers, throwing them at us first to deplete our ammunition before they engage in the fight.
“Cowards!” Brownie taunts them, picking off several freshmen in front of her. “We have to move out of the trenches, or all we’ll hit are the freshmen,” she yells to Buns and me, then turns to the other girls and gives the order to storm the beach.
Moving out of the trenches and up the beach toward the Delts, it is apparent they have come prepared with their own paintball guns in tow. The beach rapidly becomes mayhem. My improved vision gives me a huge advantage over everyone else. I am able to put a paint slug anywhere I want to on any opponent. I manage to hit Remy several times in the chest and a couple of times in the trigger hand, making him drop his weapon and run back toward the parking lot for cover.
Unfortunately, I also see who picks up Remy’s weapon. Russell trains the gun on me, and with an evil grin on his face, his first round of bullets rain on me like rice at a wedding. I manage to get off a couple shots before I have to retreat. My gun needs to be reloaded, but there is no way I am going to be given the opportunity to do so, because with Russell’s long strides, he will be on me in a matter of seconds. If only I could use my speed to evade him, but I can’t expose myself, so I am doomed.
I almost make it off the beach to a secluded picnic area before I am tackled from behind, dropping to a soft landing in the sand. It doesn’t hurt, and I lie there laughing as Russell’s arms loosen their grip from around my legs. Rolling me over onto my back, he takes my gun from me, tossing it away into the sand. A triumphant look crosses his face as he gazes down at me, covered as I am in blotches of paint from head to toe.
“Surrender,” he says in a deep southern drawl.
“Never!” I giggle at him, wondering who has brought him here.
“Ahh, so, it’s to be torture, is it?” he asks as he tickles me without leniency.
“Mercy!” I say, laughing. “Anything, just stop!”
“Anythin’, well now, Red, ya asked for it,” and before I can object, Russell bends down, pressing his lips to mine in a deep, heated kiss that takes me off guard in its intensity.
For a few moments, I respond to the heat of his kiss, because it is like being home … safe … it feels as if I have been kissing him all my life, even though this is the first time. But, it is more than that; it is like I have loved him all my life, or much, much longer. Even as my soul soars high, urging me to continue the kiss, the angel part of me is livid and is now actively trying to push Russell away from me. That part of me will never be satisfied with anything but Reed, no matter how he feels about me.
The intense heat and physical upheaval that hits me every time I am near Reed is not there with Russell. I don’t know if it is angel vs. human attraction, or if it is just a primal thing I have for Reed, but I crave it, and I want nothing less than all of it. Russell draws back at my insistence, looking down on me with smoldering eyes because he had felt my initial response to his kiss.
“So, there’s hope after all, Red,” Russell says, almost to himself as he sits down next to me in the sand. “I knew ya loved me.”
“Russell I can’t …” I say, rising to my elbows.
He interrupts me, saying in a serious tone, “Ya know, I’ve thought a lot about the first night we were here at the lake together.” He is not looking at me, but out at the tranquil water. “I always wonder what would’ve happened if I’d kissed ya then, before Reed had shown up. If I’d kissed ya, would ya have been less wrapped up in him?” he asks me rhetorically, while pulling his hand through his tawny hair. Then, he looks at me with his warm brown eyes and continues, “I know ya don’t know, but it’s just one thing about all of this that tortures me.”
“I’m sorry, Russell …” I say, wanting to cry.
“Shhh,” he says, picking up my hand and kissing the top of it. “Come on. Don’t let me ruin yer perfectly good war that y’all worked so hard on,” he smiles. He pulls me up and dusts the sand off of me like I am a child. “Red, yer a pretty good shot. I thought ya had me until ya ran out of ammo.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, still choking on the guilt that hits me twofold now. I feel guilty for betraying Reed and guilty for hurting Russell again. Does this never end?
Retrieving my gun from where Russell had thrown it, I walk with my head down, so I won’t have to look Russell in the eyes. When we get back to the main part of the beach, the war is all but over. Buns and Brownie are negotiating terms with Remy and a few other Delt officers. It is agreed that the Delts will get the last clue to the composite’s whereabouts tomorrow at their costume party.
Russell squeezes my hand as we near the girls. “I have to find Mason and get a ride back to the dorms with him. I’ll see ya tomorrow at breakfast, okay?” he asks with concern clouding his eyes. I nod my head, trying to smile at him, but it falls short. “Don’t worry, Red, everything will work out. Trust me,” he whispers in my ear. His cheek brushes mine when he draws back to smile at me sweetly before jogging away with an easy grace to catch up with Mason.
Buns, Brownie, and I are walking back to the Golden Goose when JT pulls up next to us in a black Range Rover. “Hey, Buns!” JT yells as he stands up through the sunroof of the vehicle. We stop and stare at JT, or what we can see of him with all of the windows blacked out like a diplomatic vehicle. Hearing him is certainly a problem too, since the car’s stereo vibrates the pavement beneath our feet, drowning out everything else.
JT pops his head back into the car, turning the stereo down so that it is no longer subwoofing. “Want to go for a ride, ladies?” JT asks when he comes back up. “Pete and I are going to go to the Seven-Eleven—get slurpees—drive around—play some insane music,” JT says. The passenger side window of the SUV rolls down and Pete becomes visible in the driver’s seat.
“That could be gnar, what do you think?” Buns asks us enthusiastically.
“Sure, why not?” Brownie shrugs, engaging the safety to her gun, and then all eyes are on me.
I am about to decline and tell them that I would see them later. Reed had made me promise not to go to the 7-Eleven without him. Reed, I think and feel paralyzed. Intense pain that I have been keeping at bay rushes through me like a bitter poison. Then, the memory of Russell’s kiss assails my senses. A deep scalding pain pierces my heart as the angel and the soul that make up who I am tear at each other like vicious enemies.
I just want it to end; I want the pain to stop, I think miserably. I am so tired, not in a physical way, but weary in a way that no amount of sleep or rest will help. Suddenly, I am in a rush to get to the 7-Eleven. I want to hasten my fate, not to run from it. I want it to be over.
“Let’s go,” I say, opening the back door of the SUV and climbing in.
“All right!” JT says from the passenger’s seat as I slip over to the opposite door, allowing room for Brownie and Buns. Pete turns the stereo back up, but not as loud as before, and we head off.
Rolling my window down, I close my eyes, feeling the wind blowing on my face. Whatever is going to happen, it seems preferable to the constant ache in my chest. When we arrive at the 7-Eleven, I am the first one out of the car. Instrumental music plays softly as I move past the cash register and the clerk with the red smock uniform. I turn down the back aisle of the store, walking swiftly to the light that had given me the smack down and I position myself directly beneath it.
I stand there waiting for something to happen … anything, because I just want this to be done. The light flickers once. Adrenaline flashes into my system, causing my heart to race as I flinch a little, anticipating the deafening blast of sound that is the prelude to the insanity. Seconds tick by, but nothing happens. I gaze up at the light, trying to stare it down and bend it to my
will for once.
“Hey, sweetie, do you want a cherry or a blue raspberry?” Buns calls to me from the slurpee machine in the front of the store.
Crushing disappointment hits me then. Nothing is happening. What do I want to happen? I think, looking down at the floor. The color drains from my face when I think about what I am doing here. Do I really want my premonition to happen? That would mean carnage and destruction for everyone in the store, I assess and panic, looking from Buns to Brownie.
Intending to get my friends out of here immediately, I take a step forward, but a flash of red stops me. A teardrop of crimson stains the tile at my feet before a few more drips falling from above spatter onto the floor. Blood? I wonder in confusion.
As I freeze in indecision, something shiny drops from the light above to the floor. Going down on one knee, I pick it up from the ground. My hand shakes as I quickly turn the blood-smeared silvery pendants over in my hand. The circular pendant makes a soft sound as it rubs against the metal of the infinity symbol. Russell’s necklace … my mind races. I clutch the worn, leather strap tightly in my palm. It came through the light—with blood.
Suddenly, I am moving to the front of the store. I have to get my friends out of here. “I’ll take a cherry, Buns.” I say, moving to her side and helping her put the arching plastic lid on the cup. I pull her along by the elbow, feeling relief that Pete, JT, and Brownie are already cashed out. It takes longer than I think it should for the cashier to make change for the ten I hand her for the slurpees.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Buns asks me. “You’re sweating,” she observes as we leave the convenience store and get into the Range Rover.
“I’m not feeling very well,” I murmur. “Can you guys drop me off at our dorm?” I ask, wiping the sweat off my brow with the back of my hand.
“Sure, Evie, we have to get the car back anyway.” JT replies, and turns the stereo way up.
When I get back to the dorm, I say goodnight to Brownie and Buns, then head to my room. The second that I am in, I am on the phone dialing Russell’s number. My hand is shaking so badly, I can hardly hold the phone to my ear. Russell answers on the second ring, “Hello, darlin’,” he says with a slow, sexy drawl.