The Gifting

by Katie Ganshert

  I look down at our joined hands, then back up at him. “You’re good at this.”

  “What?”

  “This.” I lift our hands. “You make it look pretty believable.”

  “I’m not that good of an actor.”

  My heart takes off. Short fast little beats, like the hop, hop, hop of a baby rabbit in flight. He pulls me closer and I forget everything. My grandma. My dreams. All the crazy stuff. There’s only me and this boy.

  “I’m very drawn to you, Tess.”

  Why? That’s what I want to ask. But he brushes a lock of hair from my cheek and the word gets lost. My heart is no longer like the quick hopping of a rabbit. It’s a jackhammer inside my ribcage. I’m sure he can hear it. I’m sure he can see it pulsing in my neck.

  His mouth curves into a grin. “You don’t have to look so frightened.”

  There’s another sound, louder this time, as if somebody is crashing up the path. Luka pulls me back again, but there’s laughter. It’s Summer, and bumbling behind her is Jared, holding her elbow as if to keep her upright. She stops in the middle of the path, reels back, and throws up her hands like a police officer yelled freeze. “I am so sorry. We keep interrupting your romantic moments.”

  Luka’s posture stiffens and his grip tightens around my hand, as if the firmness of his grasp might shield me from Summer’s poison. She looks from me, to Luka, her expression glazed over, and points her finger from him to me. “I don’t get this,” she slurs.

  Jared hiccups, then cups his mouth and giggles. It’s a sound that should not come out of a burly linebacker.

  “Jennalee ’n Pete? I get that. Yerbrother’s hot. Loner and broody sorta adds to the whole appeal. Plus, he’s full of interesting information.”

  My blood goes cold.

  She takes a few belligerent steps toward me, sticks snapping beneath her feet. “I don’t know if your boyfriend here knows about it.”

  Luka doesn’t give her a chance to divulge whatever interesting information Pete had to share. He pulls me around Summer and Jared. “Come on, Tess.”

  “Yeah. C’mon Tess. Why don’t you go ahead and tell Luka about your little episode.”

  I try to turn around.

  “She’s baiting you,” Luka says.

  Yes, she is. And I want to take the bait. “I need to know what she knows.”

  “No, you don’t.” He pulls me down the path, back to the party.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Confrontations

  As soon as my brother and I walk inside the door of our home, I grab his arm. He whips around and jerks free.

  “What did you tell Jennalee?”

  He kicks off his shoes. They thud against the wall. “What do you think I told her?”

  I replay Summer’s odd threat in the woods, about my little episode and I can’t think of anything else that could be interpreted as an episode except the séance in Jude. My blood has not returned to a normal temperature since. “What did you tell her, Pete?”

  “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t dream of telling anybody I have a crazy for a sister.”

  “I’m the crazy one? I’m the crazy one? You lock yourself in your room all the time. You listen to obnoxious music. Your entire wardrobe has changed. And you’re hanging out with Wren and Jess. They’re the crazy ones. What did you tell Jennalee?”

  “Wren and Jess don’t see a shrink. And as far as I know, Wren and Jess have never had to move across the country because they need professional help.”

  I will not let him distract me. I will repeat the question a million times if it means he’ll give me a straight answer. “What did you tell Jennalee?”

  “What makes you think I told her anything about you?”

  “Because Summer said something to me tonight about an episode.”

  “She asked if I partied in Florida. I told her about the last party I went to.”

  The blood drains from my face. “You told her about what happened in Florida?” Part of the reason we left was to escape the stigma and now Pete brought it with him? “How could you do that?”

  “Relax. As far as she knows, you’re just afraid of Ouija boards.”

  I narrow my eyes—hurt by the resentment simmering in his voice. Sure, the two of us have never been close. But we’ve never been like this, either. He stands there looking like I’m some sort of pariah, like he is physically uncomfortable being in my presence. “Why are you so angry with me?”

  His glower darkens.

  “Do you want me to apologize for making you move? Fine, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you have a crazy sister who made you move away from your girlfriend in Jude. Do you think I like it any more than you do?”

  Mom hurries down the steps in her slippers, her hair and her sleepy eyes frazzled. “What is going on? What are you two yelling about?”

  Pete clasps his hands behind his neck and mutters a curse. “Am I allowed to go to my room now, or do I have to sleep in the living room, too?”

  Mom frowns. “Of course you can sleep in your room.”

  “Am I allowed to shut my door?”

  All my fury—at Jennalee, at Summer, at my parents—gathers and swirls and aims itself at my brother. I want to bury my fist in his face, but I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t hurt. “You are such a jerk, you know that?”

  He doesn’t even flinch. He keeps his eyes trained on Mom.

  “S-sure,” she says.

  He stomps up the stairs and slams his door. The sound reverberates through the house. Mom looks at me with wide eyes. “What’s going on? Did something happen at the party?”

  I bite my lip, fighting back tears. “It’s nothing.”

  “Nothing? Tess, you and Pete never fight like that.”

  “It’s fine, Mom. All siblings fight.” But that’s a lie. Because Pete and I don’t. At least never like that. I walk up the steps and shut myself in my room. When I get there, I shrug out of my sweatshirt and pants, then throw on a tank top and pajama bottoms with jerky, angry movements. I sit cross-legged on my bed and hug my pillow in my lap. My jiggling knees rattle the mattress and the nightstand.

  How can somebody like Summer be so popular? Why does anybody like her?

  I toss the pillow behind me, fall back, and stare up at the ceiling. Despite all the unexplainable things swirling around me—like Luka and our dreams and Dr. Roth and my not-dead grandmother and Pete’s behavior—I’m still just a girl in high school, consumed with thoughts over a mean girl named Summer.

  *

  Summer sits on Bobbi’s couch, wearing her red devil costume, and she’s making out with …

  Luka?

  She surfaces from the passionate kiss, her lips swollen, looking more beautiful than ever. Luka drapes his arm over the back of the couch. My stomach cramps. I step away, feeling foolish. But wait a minute. I already left the party. Luka and I left together, with Leela and Kiara and Pete.

  What’s going on?

  I scratch the inside of my wrist. It’s numb.

  Which means this is a dream. My mind races. Why is Luka making out with Summer in our dream? “Luka?” His name escapes like a tiny squeak, no louder than a mouse. I clear the tremor away and try again. “Luka, what’s going on?”

  But Luka doesn’t answer. His eyes feast on Summer as if she is the only girl in the room.

  “You don’t actually think he likes you, do you?” Her smile makes my skin crawl. I am not a violent person. Martial Arts is all about self-control. Yet the look on her face makes me want to scratch her eyes out. “I mean, look at you and look at him. Why would someone like him be into someone like you?”

  Her words fan my insecurity.

  “There’s only one reason he’s been spending time with you.” As she speaks, black mist puffs from her lips like frosty breath on a cold day.

  I step back, waiting for Summer to shriek or cover her mouth, but it’s like she doesn’t see the black cloud at all.

  “He wants to know how you do it,” she continues. “He wa
nts to know how you fight.” The mist hovers around her face like cigarette smoke. “He’s using you to get information. And then when he has it, he will destroy you.”

  I shake my head. Why isn’t Luka reacting to the mist? Why isn’t he moving away? I stare at him, waiting for him to at least acknowledge me. “Why is she here?”

  “Who is she?” Summer points to herself. “Me? Why wouldn’t I be here?”

  “Did you invite her to our dream?” I ask Luka.

  “Dream?” Summer laughs. “This is not a dream.”

  “Yes, it is.” Now if only I knew why and how it worked. The black mist thins and clears. Luka sits on the couch, rubbing his knuckle up and down Summer’s bare shoulder. “I thought you were going to help me find my grandmother. I thought you were going to help me figure out what to say to Dr. Roth.”

  “Dr. Roth?” Summer cocks her head. “What are you talking about?”

  “Luka,” I say, raising my voice.

  “Don’t you get it? He doesn’t want to listen to you. He doesn’t like you. He likes me. He’s always liked me. And he will always like me!”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, the sound of Summer’s shrill voice ringing in my ears.

  The temperature drops. I open my eyes and suck in a sharp breath. Summer and Luka and Bobbi’s couch are gone. I’m standing in a closed garage. The air is cold and there’s a car inside, running. A woman sits behind the wheel. She looks comatose and standing off to the side, is that man with the gaunt, pale face and unseeing white eyes. Fear strangles my airway. I cover my mouth with my sleeve to protect my lungs from the carbon monoxide and bang on the car window.

  The lady doesn’t react.

  The man disappears into the house. When he returns, he has a car seat with him. A tiny baby sleeps inside. He clicks the car seat into the base in the back seat.

  A tremor moves up into my torso. I remind myself that this is a dream. This isn’t real. But it feels incredibly real. It feels like the most real thing I’ve ever experienced. I pound again on the car window, feeling strong. Feeling alert. If she doesn’t do something, her baby will die.

  She doesn’t respond. She doesn’t even blink.

  The man leaves and comes back again, this time with a tow-headed toddler, tears streaking down his chubby cheeks. Horror expands inside my chest. The small child screams for his mom as the man straps him in his car seat.

  I pound again on the woman’s window. “Lady, your kids are going to die!”

  Her eyelids flutter. She looks at me, but the man shoves me back with hands as cold as ice. I topple into some boxes. The little boy screams in the back seat. The baby sleeps. Desperation consumes me. Like fire doused with gasoline. All that matters is getting these children out. I have to save them. I lurch to my feet and do a roundhouse kick at the window—the way I would break a board on Saturday mornings in the dojo. Only this is not a board. This is thick, unbreakable glass.

  To my shock, it explodes into tiny pieces.

  I reach inside to unlock the door, open it up, unclick the car seat with the baby, and unbuckle the boy. Before the white-eyed man can react, I bundle the boy in my free arm and hurry toward the door. It must be an exit. I grab the knob and fling the door wide open to a burst of intense light.

  My eyes fly open. I sit in bed, in the dark of night, lungs pumping, heart beating wildly. My attention lands on the dream journal on my nightstand, but my body recoils. I don’t want to write anything down. I don’t want to remember any of that dream. I pull the covers over my head, turn on my side, hug my pillow to my chest and fall back asleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Doubt

  A sound—perhaps a doorbell?—wakes me up. Brightness streams in from the window. I throw the covers over my head and wince against the pain piercing my temple. It feels like somebody has shoved a knife into my brain and twists it around. I groan and try to gain my bearings.

  For a moment, I can’t remember what day it is or what happened the night before. I just lay there with the pain until last night’s dream wiggles in and out of focus. Something about a woman and kids and Luka.

  Did we meet again in our sleep? I try to bat away the fuzz in my head. It is Sunday morning. We were at Bobbi’s party last night. Luka was there and … it comes in a swoosh of clarity. Luka invited Summer into our dream. They were making out. My heart sinks. If dreams spring from our subconscious, then aren’t they more real than our words and our actions? Is it possible that I slipped into Luka’s dream undetected and witnessed his true feelings? I try to pull the vague memory into focus. Summer said something about Luka using me to get information. That’s twice now that my dreams have warned me against him. Heaviness sits on my chest. How do I know I can trust Luka?

  With a groan, I resurface from the covers. The pounding in my head intensifies. I shuffle to the bathroom to relieve my bladder. My body feels weak and shaky, like I’m the one who drank from Jared’s flask last night. Black stars flicker in the periphery of my vision as I return to my bed and lay down on my side, cold sweat prickling my forehead.

  There’s a soft tap at my door. It opens enough for my mother to stick her head inside. “Honey? It’s almost lunchtime.”

  Lunchtime? Already?

  Mom steps in my room, her brow etched with concern. “Are you okay?”

  “Headache,” I mumble.

  “Luka’s at the door asking for you.”

  I sit up. The sudden movement leaves me clutching my head.

  “I was going to send him away, but he seems very desperate to see you.”

  “Give me a minute.” I swing my legs over the bed. My feet hit the floor and I hurry into the bathroom, ignoring the spots dancing in my vision from standing so fast. I pull my hair up into a messy knot, splash cold water over my face, gargle mouth wash, one-leg hop into a pair of wrinkled jeans and throw a sweatshirt over my tank top. When I come out into my room, I shove the mess on my floor under my bed. Just as I’m tossing a book into my closet, Mom comes up with Luka. I close my closet door behind me.

  Mom gives me an odd look, then leaves the room.

  Luka stands in the doorway. I can’t tell whether he looks miserable or nervous. After last night’s dream, I decide on miserable. I was in the dream after all. By now, he has to realize what I saw. What I heard. Summer foiled his plans, whatever they were. I sit down on the edge of my bed. My legs are too shaky to stand.

  “I was going to go on a hike.” He walks over to the bed. “I was thinking you might want to come?”

  I pick at a fray in the thigh of my jeans. Does he really think I don’t know?

  “You okay?”

  “I remember the dream, Luka.”

  He sticks his hands in his back pockets and cocks his head. “Dream?”

  “From last night. With Summer.”

  “Summer?” He pulls his chin back, his brow furrowing.

  “You don’t remember?” Is it possible that he really didn’t see me? Or is he just putting on a good act again?

  “Remember? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “We met up last night. We shared a dream.”

  “No, we didn’t.”

  “Yes, we did. We were at Bobbi’s. You and Summer were there and …” Heat flushes up my neck. I can’t bring myself to remind him that they were making out.

  “And what?”

  “She told me you were using me to get information.”

  “Tess, I don’t know how this dream-thing works, but trust me, I didn’t have a dream about Summer last night.” His cheeks turn red. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him blush. It leaves me wondering who he did dream about last night. He sits beside me on the edge of my bed. “It had to be a regular dream.”

  I want to believe him, but just because I want to doesn’t mean I should. Pressing my fingers against my hairline, I glance at my untouched dream journal. I should have written everything down last night so I’d remember the details. There was something about a mother and he
r kids and a garage, maybe? I close my eyes against the pain throbbing in my temples and a picture of a tow-headed boy swims into focus. My eyes fly open. I stand from the bed.

  Luka stands with me. “What is it?”

  I hurry over to my desk, plop down on the chair, and open the internet browser.

  “What’s going on?” Luka asks, leaning over my shoulder.

  “I’m not sure.” I type words into the search box.

  “Why are you searching for carbon monoxide poisoning?”

  “It’s something from my dream last night.” My heart pounds in my ears as a news result pops up on the screen, in a town not more than fifteen minutes from Thornsdale. I click on the link, praying it’s not what I think. My dad might think prayers are nothing but a waste of energy, but if angels are real, then God is real. And if God is real, then maybe he’s a God who listens to prayer.

  A picture fills the screen and my prayer curdles.

  “Please tell me what’s going on.”

  “It’s them.”

  “Who’s them?” Luka leans further over my shoulder. “Were they in your dream?”

  I set my hand on top of my head and lean back in the chair. If the scene in the garage was real, then doesn’t that mean Luka and Summer were real too?

  “Woman found dead from carbon monoxide poisoning,” Luka reads out loud. “Survived by her two children, who were in the car with her. Amazingly, they survived, though doctors do not understand how. The children have no brain damage and no trace of monoxide in their blood system. Doctors are declaring their survival an anomaly.”

  “I dreamt about them.” My voice shakes worse than my hands. “That same man from the pep rally was there and he had the woman in some sort of trance. I grabbed the children and got them out, but I woke up before I could help the woman. And now she’s dead.” The shaking has taken over my entire body. It clamps onto my jaw, making my teeth chatter. I couldn’t control it if I tried.