by Becca Fox
I tiptoed past her, around the staircase, and into the laundry room without her noticing. I wasn’t so lucky on my way back.
“Esmeralda. A moment.”
Grimacing, I approached the sitting room.
My great aunt kept her narrowed eyes fixed on the half-constructed afghan in her lap. Her gnarled fingers wielded those metal needles with harsh, almost mechanical movements.
“I’ve decided against punishing you for the fight that broke out at school today,” she said after a pause. “Your story matched the dean’s so I know you told the truth. Besides, you’re already going to be subjected to community service. I don’t want anything else getting in the way of your chores.”
I blinked at her a few times before saying, “Thanks…?”
“I suppose I judged Charles a bit too harshly when I met him the other night.” Aunt Dinah sniffed up at me, as if I’d said something to annoy her. “It doesn’t happen often, but I’d be a proud fool if I said it never happened.” She waved a hand at me. “As you were.”
I backed away before she could change her mind and force me to sleep in the wine cellar or something. I froze at the foot of the stairs, having been struck with an idea. I peered down the hallway on the left side of the stairs, the one that ended with the door leading to the cellar. There was a padlock on it. I drummed my fingers against the mahogany railing, considering. What were the chances Aunt Dinah was keeping my cell phone in there?
“What are you doing?”
The question had me leaping up the first two steps. “Nothing.” Then I jogged the rest of the way to the second story.
Which would get me into more trouble: breaking into my aunt’s room or breaking into the wine cellar? Either way I was screwed if I was caught, but the old lady only went into the cellar once a week. She had a glass of red wine with dinner every night; it usually took her a week to finish a whole bottle. Trying the cellar first would probably be my safest bet.
I spent the rest of the evening on homework and devising the perfect plan to get past that padlocked door.
◆◆◆
School sucked the next day. Not only did I have a stomach ache and a killer cough because of the lack of nicotine in my system, but I had to hide in the guys’ bathroom during lunch. Charlie wasn’t there to scare Randi and her girls away so I couldn’t chance my usual bench. Or the amphitheater. Or the shaded picnic tables. Or the cafe. Or any other public space on campus.
I sat in a locked stall, playing with my lighter, listening to person after person as they peed, wondering how things could possibly get worse.
I got my answer when my scheduled community service time rolled around. A member of campus security came to collect me after my last class for the day and escorted me to the cafe. Allan, Cole and Winston were there, but so were Randi and Karen. Maybe they finally got busted for smoking. Maybe they got into a fight because Karen had refused to back Randi up during lunch yesterday. It didn’t matter. This was my worst nightmare; all the people in Seattle who hated me were in the same room and I couldn’t escape.
We were instructed to clean the kitchen from top to bottom. The head cook showed us where all the supplies were and then left us in the capable hands of the security guard.
Randi elbowed Karen and nodded at me. They shared an eager grin while they washed dishes. Allan, Cole and Winston took turns glaring at me and slicing their fingers across their throats. I alternated between mopping the floor, checking the clock, checking the door, and checking to see if our babysitter was catching all of these silent death threats I was receiving. The guard played on his phone the entire time.
I’d been feeling shitty all day but I hadn’t wished for a smoke, not until then. Because I knew they were going to gang up on me the second I left campus. If I’d been allowed to keep my phone, I might’ve been able to text an SOS to Aunt Dinah, and have her come a little early. Then I could just race to her car before these creeps had the chance to jump me.
My hands shook as I worked. My heart thumped, hard and unsteady, in my chest. I couldn’t seem to get enough air in my lungs. I let out a strained little laugh when I realized I was scared. I hadn’t felt this way since I’d broken up with Marty, the night before I was scheduled to fly to Seattle. Three other members of the gang had agreed to stand by me so he wouldn’t hit me when I said the words out loud. Looking him in the eye, admitting I didn’t want to try a long-distance relationship, was the hardest thing I’d ever done.
Surviving this afternoon was going to be harder.
When the hour was up and we were allowed to go, I decided I wasn’t going to run. I didn’t need anyone spreading rumors that I was a coward. I had my trusty switchblade in my back pocket. Maybe I could hurt a few of them before they could pin me down. If I survived until Aunt Dinah came to get me, maybe she’d scare them away. I just couldn’t let them drag me somewhere no one could see us.
My heart was still jumping around my ribcage as I walked through campus, toward the main entrance of the school. I heard them behind me. Quick footsteps. Heavy breathing. Muttered threats. Frenzied chuckles. The minute I passed through the front gate, I pulled out the switchblade. It clicked open and settled comfortably in the palm of my clammy hand. I revisited the memories of all the street fights I’d been in before, hoping to prepare, maybe find a strategy where I’d end up winning. But I’d only ever fought two people at a time. I swallowed hard, glancing around in the hopes that Aunt Dinah had heard my telepathic cries for help and had come early.
She hadn’t.
The neighborhood was completely deserted. Music and the occasional shout sounded from the houses across the street. Wind whistled through the trees planted on our side of the road. Up ahead, there was a Baptist church with a colorful cross hanging from the side of the building. The clouds rumbled ominously above. A distant flash of lightning drew my attention to the horizon. The crack sounded later.
I stopped under the tree where I always waited for Aunt Dinah, switchblade still in hand. Leaning the heel of one foot against the bark, I regarded my followers through half-lidded eyes. I hunched my shoulders against the wind, suppressed a shiver of fear and adrenaline.
I wasn’t gonna give them anything. I’d stand my ground and go down fighting. No matter what.
They had me surrounded before I could even finish the thought. Cole was in a knee brace and on crutches. He wouldn’t be part of this fight, probably just a cheerleader/lookout. But it was still four against one.
“Is this the part where one of you gives a threatening speech?” I asked, waving a lazy hand between Randi and Allan.
Allan smirked. “That’s right. Get all your tough talk out while we’re in the open.”
My stomach quivered. I forced myself to remain expressionless but my grip on the switchblade tightened.
“You have a habit for pissing people off.” Randi spat at the ground by my feet. “I think it’s time someone broke that habit for you.”
“We can start by breaking your face,” Karen chimed in, bobbing her head from side to side like a cobra waiting for its chance to strike.
“Then get it over with,” I snapped. “My aunt will be here any minute. I’d hate for her to ruin your good time.”
Allan lunged at me.
I swung my book bag at his face. He staggered back, holding his forehead. Winston came at me next, going for my arm. I dug the end of my knife into the back of his hand. He leapt away from me with a shouted curse. Randi and Karen, having learned from their predecessors’ mistakes, charged together. I ducked the fist of one and stayed crouched to stab the other in the thigh. Randi swore, wheeling around to strike again while Karen screamed and fell over, my only weapon firmly embedded in her leg. Allan had recovered by then. He tackled me into the grass before Randi’s second hit could land.
My head cracked against the ground. Pain raced across the back of my skill. The whole world turned white for a second and then my vision returned. Just in time for me to see Allan pulling his arm b
ack, hand curled into a fist. I bucked underneath him, threw him off balance. But as he tumbled off of me, Winston grabbed me under the armpits and pulled me up. Next thing I knew, I was being carried away to an alley between the chain link fence around the teachers’ parking lot and the Baptist church. I flailed in Winston’s grip, kicking and screaming and throwing my elbows back in a vain attempt to get free.
I was thrown against the wall of the church. The rough brick cut across my elbow as I staggered to the ground. I pushed myself up, only to get shoved back down. Their kicks came in quick succession. I tried curling up into a ball to protect my head and torso, but they deliberately kicked at my arms and legs to keep them apart.
Pain erupted in multiple places; my stomach, my ribs, my shoulder, my face. I heard a snap. A scream tore out of my throat. My knee felt like it had been crushed. Then I took someone’s boot to the mouth. My scream was abruptly cut off.
Chapter 14
Charles
I was playing video games when the vision came.
Our underground apartment melted away to reveal an alley by the college. I saw the teachers’ parking lot and the familiar Baptist church. For a second, I thought this was the unofficial home of a vagrant or a junkie that was about to overdose. What I saw was so much worse. A group of faceless teenagers were pounding the shit out of someone who was curled up on the ground. Someone with red-orange hair.
I felt sick to my stomach. “No.”
She covered her face with her hands, one of which sported a crooked finger. Someone kicked her so hard in the side that she twisted violently away. I glimpsed her profile then. It was bloody, swollen, and torn up, but I knew it was Esmer.
Not her, was all I could think as the ground tilted beneath my feet. Please, not her.
I slapped both hands against my cheeks and even pinched my still-mending nose. I felt the pain but I stayed trapped in this gut-wrenching nightmare. This nightmare that wasn’t just a bad dream but was happening in real time.
Esmer was dying.
I stumbled back, suddenly weak in the knees.
Esmer was dying and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.
“Uncle Vic!” I shouted so loudly that my throat hurt. “Uncle Vic, if you can hear me, send an ambulance to the school. Esmer’s dying in an alley right by the teachers’ parking lot. We have to do something now!”
Breathing heavily, I grabbed handfuls of my hair and just stared down at her. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so helpless, so frustrated, so desperate.
Esmer’s attempts to protect herself were growing weaker and weaker by the second, but her vicious attackers didn’t seem to be letting up.
“Stop. Goddammit, stop!” I sprinted forward, reaching out to drag them away from her. My hands went right through their shoulders. I punched and shoved and screamed, but the horrible scene dragged on.
“You can’t die. You can’t.” My nose was running. My face was wet. My chest hurt. I collapsed where I stood, inches away from the relentless kicking and stomping feet separating me from my only friend in the world.
Then the scene faded to black.
I sat up. “Esmer!”
“You’re all right, Charlie,” my uncle said, barely glancing in my direction. “Just breathe. We’re on our way.”
We were in his cruiser. I was strapped to the passenger’s seat. He was weaving through traffic like a bat out of hell. The siren was blaring but Uncle Vic still honked his horn a few times when stupid drivers refused to get out of his way. It was pouring rain outside.
“You...heard me.” I placed a hand against my sternum, felt my heart acting as a battering ram against my chest. My mouth was dry, my throat stinging with every swallow.
“It was kind of hard not to,” my uncle said with a nervous chuckle. “You were screaming and thrashing around just as much as Jasmine was. I’ve never seen you do that while in a trance before.”
I ran a hand down my face multiple times to get rid of the sweat and tears. I still saw Esmer when I closed my eyes; curled up on the ground, grimacing through the blood, suffering in silence.
“How far away are we?” I asked, looking for landmarks through the sheets of rain.
“Maybe two minutes.” My uncle sped through a red light and made a sharp left turn.
The seatbelt locked around me, cutting into my neck. I hardly noticed. Because the college was up ahead. An ambulance was already there. With the help of its flashing lights, I saw people in navy blue uniforms taking a stretcher out of the back.
The cop cruiser skidded to a halt by the sidewalk, spraying dirty street water everywhere. I was out of the car before it came to a complete stop. I slipped but caught myself, continuing in my mad dash to get to Esmer. I was soaked in seconds. Mud coated my sneakers and the bottom inch or so of my jeans.
A male EMT held up his hands to stop me but I barreled past him.
“SPD!” Uncle Victor hollered somewhere behind me. “Let him through!”
I slid to a stop beside the four EMTs working to stabilize Esmer. The damage looked so much worse than it had in my vision. Maybe it was because she wasn’t moving or because the blood was literally dripping from her clothes or because the bruises on her face had had time to swell.
I swallowed hard and dropped to my knees. “Is she going to be all right?”
“Who are you?” one of the EMTs demanded.
I sent her a withering look. “I’m her friend. I’m the one who called this in. Is she going to be all right?”
One of Esmer’s eyes cracked open at the sound of my voice. Her lips were bulging; she could only open them a hair. “Char…boy?”
I gripped her hand in both of mine, almost choking on my relief.
“If you called us, why weren’t you with the victim?” the imposing EMT demanded.
Thankfully, my uncle caught up and flashed his badge. “I’m Detective Victor Campbell and you will answer my nephew’s questions.”
“He’s the one with the psychic niece,” the other EMT muttered to his partner.
She gave me the once-over, seemingly unimpressed. “If you stand back and let us do our jobs, we might be able to keep her alive.”
A third EMT moved in to place an oxygen mask over Esmer’s face. I jumped up and stepped back. If all they needed was some space in order to save her, I’d give them that. If they needed my blood for a transfusion, I’d give them that too.
Uncle Victor gripped my shoulder. “Come on, Charlie. We can meet them at the hospital.”
I stood there a second longer, watching multiple hands work together to move Esmer onto the stretcher. Then I let him pull me away.
◆◆◆
My uncle stayed with me just long enough to hear that Esmer was going to live. Then he left to find the bastards who’d done this to her. I hadn’t seen any faces in my vision but I knew who it had to be. Allan Kieding, Winston Singer, Cole Shearman, and Randi Figueredo were the only ones who had reasons to hurt her. I told him to question Karen Arber too, just in case. I was sure Esmer had put up a fight before she’d been thrown to the ground and overpowered. It would be easy for Uncle Victor to tell whether they’d been involved or not.
While I waited for Esmer to wake up, I texted Anthony to ask about my sister. In all the chaos, I’d completely forgotten that Jasmine had gotten beaten up too. In a way.
I was resting my head against the wall when the door to Esmer’s room was thrown open. I lurched to my feet. My ball cap landed on the plastic chair with a soft thunk. Great Aunt Dinah marched in with the same rage-infused stride I’d seen on the night I’d walked Esmer home. She didn’t even glance at me. She walked right up to Esmer’s bed and towered above her unconscious niece. A nurse loitered by the door, watching the old woman with a concerned crease on her forehead.
“Who did this?” Dinah asked at last. Her voice was as rough as sandpaper.
“We don’t know yet,” the nurse said hesitantly, “but the police are—”
“No
t you.” The old woman turned her steely glare on me.
“I think it was the same guys who picked a fight with her yesterday,” I said after a moment of awkward silence. “My uncle, Detective Campbell, is questioning them now.”
She turned back to Esmer and reached out with a liver-spotted hand as if to touch her face. But then she dropped it and turned away. Squeezing her beaded coin purse in her fist, the old woman asked, “What is the extent of her injuries?”
The nurse inhaled and opened her mouth to respond, but a murderous look from Dinah had her backing away.
“Esmer has a dislocated kneecap, a broken nose, finger, and several teeth, and a mild concussion,” I said. “Two ribs were cracked. They punctured her lungs, which then began to fill with fluid.” That’s what would’ve killed her if the ambulance hadn’t shown up in the nick of time. I cleared my throat. “The surgeon told me he and his team fixed the damaged tissue and drained all the fluid from her lungs. He expects Esmer to recover in the next eight to nine weeks. Her knee is in a splint. It’ll take up to six weeks to heal. She’s on heavy pain medication, but the doctor thinks she’ll wake up within the hour.”
Dinah gave a curt nod. “You’ll stay with her?”
“Sure,” I said, scratching the top of my head. It felt oddly exposed without my hat. “Won’t you?”
“No. I think...” The old woman pulled her shoulders back, frowning down her nose at Esmer. “I’m too upset. I’ll just end up scolding her. She doesn’t need that. She needs to see a friendly face when she comes to.” Dinah swiveled sharply in my direction, pinning me down with those dark eyes again. “I’ll return in the morning when I have better control of my emotions. You’ll tell her for me?”
I bobbed my head in a nod.