by Tara Taylor
“It was wrong. Totally wrong. You know, I had something really important to tell you tonight, and you’re the first person I wanted to tell, and now you’ve gone and wrecked my moment.”
“You can still tell me,” I said quietly.
“I don’t want to, because you won’t be happy for me. Well, maybe I will anyway, just to prove how wrong you really are. For your info, Burke and I had sex tonight. It wasn’t just a hookup, Indie; we made love. There’s a difference.”
Before I could reply, the line went dead.
I clutched the phone in my hand for a few minutes before I put it back in its cradle.
I wanted to scream; instead I did nothing but stare at the wall. Finally, I moaned and rolled over, and that’s when I saw the book John had loaned me sticking out of my backpack. I got up and pulled it out. Slowly, I cracked it open and started to read. Cayce went into trances or some sort of sleep state to see his visions. I flipped the page, not wanting to read line by line. He was an average guy with a wife and kids, and he taught Sunday school. Yeah, right. What church would allow a guy who had visions to teach little kids? Give me a break. The church hated this kind of stuff. Another page. He hated taking money for what he did, and there were some who tried to extort him, make him into a sideshow, so he decided to help only those who were sick. Okay, that I could understand. Well, sort of.
I turned another page. He often didn’t remember his readings because, he claimed, the unconscious mind had some sort of access to the information that the conscious mind didn’t.
What!? That was so not true. I remembered things.
My blood gushed through me at the audacity of such a statement. Angrily, I threw the book against the wall and watched a couple of the pages fall from the spine. Obviously, it was a piece of crap.
Why couldn’t I just forget, too?
My life would be far better. Lacey would still be my friend.
Chapter Six
I woke up in the morning feeling like crap. I hadn’t slept all night because of what had happened with Lacey. In fact, I’d cried myself to sleep. I didn’t want to go through my last year of high school without her. We had everything planned out for grad formal: limos, dresses, corsages, dates. I was supposed to go with John, and she was supposed to go with Burke. I would wear a short dress that was simple and sleek, but with cool accessories, like a feather boa. Lacey always wanted to wear a long dress, something frilly or lacy, like a debutante ball gown or like the dresses actors wore to the Oscars. Although we had different tastes in the dress department, we had both decided that we would go to the hairdresser and get updos.
Now I had wrecked everything. What was wrong with me?
Your stupid visions, that’s what.
“Leave me alone,” I said out loud. “Stop telling me what I did wrong and just tell me how to fix this.”
Not a chance. Fix this yourself.
How was I going to face Lacey today? Especially when her locker was beside mine.
For the second day in a row, I got to school early. Only this time, I didn’t go straight to the library—I went to my locker. I had to get my books before Lacey showed up.
My locker door was still open when I heard the familiar smacking of flip-flops on the tiled floor. My heart quickened. My pulse raced.
I looked up. “John,” I said.
Casually, he leaned against the locker beside mine and gave me a lopsided smile. But through his smile, I saw something else. Red rimmed his eyes, like he hadn’t slept all night. Was he stoned?
I inhaled. I didn’t smell anything except fresh soap and cigarettes.
No, he was just exhausted. But I sensed sadness, too. It seemed to seep from the little red lines in his eyes.
“You didn’t wear a hockey jersey,” he said.
“Is it jersey day again?” I had totally forgotten. Hockey nets would be set up outside at lunch, and guys and some girls, the athletic ones like Lacey, would go out and play ball hockey with the teachers and students. The hockey boys like Burke would be treated like gods.
“Lame, eh?”
“So lame,” I replied. “I hate all those dumb ‘rah, rah, school spirit’ days.”
“Totally.”
“Hey, did you read the book I gave you yesterday?” he asked.
“Just a little,” I confessed.
My face flushed as I remembered throwing the book against the wall. I had to buy him a new one. I turned toward my locker, both to hide my red face and to get my books out so I would be gone before Lacey came.
“So?” he asked.
“So?” I replied.
“The book?”
“Right.” I tried to act normal, searching for the stuff I needed for first period. “I didn’t have time to read much, but … it just doesn’t seem realistic.” I hurriedly pulled out a book and, in the process, sent the entire top shelf of my locker toppling to the floor.
John bent over to retrieve everything that had spilled out. He handed me some books. “I betcha he really could see dead people.”
My spine stiffened, and without looking him in the eye, I took the books and stacked them in my locker. Did John know something about me?
“No one can see dead people.” I tried to laugh. “They’re all just quacks. When people are dead, they are dead.” I finally turned toward him, and although I wanted to flash a flippant smile, I didn’t. The look on his face was so serious.
“I have to believe that there are people who can talk to the dead,” he said quietly, shaking his head.
Why did he have to talk about this stuff? Most guys his age had zero interest in this stuff. Had he recently lost someone important to him? Shivers ran the length of my legs, up into my back, and all the way to my head, where I suddenly saw … nothing.
Blank.
Nothing but white.
No! I cannot, will not, have a vision in the school hallway. I clenched my fists and tensed every muscle in my body.
Stay in the present. Stay in the present. My mind chattered.
Then I caught a whiff of some sort of weird smoke. Was someone smoking in the school hallway? Had John just lit up a cigarette? The aroma was sweet, tantalizing. No, it wasn’t cigarette smoke.
It was more like one of those cigarillos.
I glanced at John’s hands but saw nothing. Next, I frantically scanned the hall.
It was then that I saw the white outline of a man standing behind John. I wanted to yell, tell him to leave me alone. Tell him to go back to where he came from.
But no words came out of my mouth.
Although his outline was fuzzy, I could see that the man was tall and extremely muscular. When spirits showed themselves to me, they were neither solid nor liquid. They always freaked me out because they were almost like Jell-O. A big fat cigar dangled from his mouth. The eyes were always unclear, so I couldn’t see what color they were. When he reached up to take his cigar out of his mouth, he smiled at me. And it wasn’t a nice smile. It was a leer. But he didn’t speak, which was weird. Usually they talked. I gasped, dropping my books again on the floor, the thud echoing off the concrete walls.
“What’s the matter?” John craned his neck to look behind him.
I bent down to pick up my books.
Keep cool. Keep cool. Just pretend that nothing happened.
John squatted to help me. Again. I was such a loser.
“Are you okay?” he asked. He was so close that I could feel his hot breath on my face. For some reason, it comforted me. My heart rate dropped, and my shaking started to subside. The smell of cigar smoke dissipated, and I breathed in and out, trying to bring everything back to normal. The man was gone.
“I’m fine,” I replied.
John put his hand on my elbow and helped me stand. Then when he handed me my books, our hands touched, and this time, when the shivers coursed through my body, they were electric, full of surreal zapping energy. “Thanks,” I said.
“You look as if you just saw a ghost.” He smiled
at me.
I held my breath. Did he know? I tried to smile back. And, really, his words had been said without any implication that he had figured out what had happened.
“Nah,” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’m just a real klutz sometimes. Hey, is the cafeteria open this early?” I asked. “I’m not usually here until a minute before the bell goes. I need some coffee.”
“Coffee,” said John. “My breakfast staple. I’ll buy you a cup.”
I slammed my locker shut with my foot and snuck a glance down the hall. No man. Just an empty hallway. Maybe I could get through the day.
We didn’t talk much as we walked down the hall, and that was a good thing because my mind was racing, thoughts pinging back and forth. Why had that guy just shown up? Who was he? My body felt drained. I was sure if I went home, I would sleep for hours. The secrets piling up inside of me were taking their toll.
And I had to keep them buried deep, deep, deep down.
I had to put them in the ground and shovel dirt over them to keep them silent. I decided the next time I had a vision, I would will it away, or if a dead person showed up in front of me, I would get rid of them with my mind. I could not let any of this destroy my life.
I glanced at John. His hair seemed to sway when he walked, almost as if he moved in slow motion. And I loved his profile—long masculine nose, full lips, and square jaw. His chin looked smooth today. He had shaved this morning. If I touched it, would it feel smooth?
Then just like that, my happy thoughts about John were crowded out by thoughts about the man in the hall. He hadn’t looked like a particularly nice guy. Was he an old janitor? An ex-teacher who had done something wrong? Maybe he had sold drugs or molested students. If I dug in old school records, I bet I could find out. Wait! I needed to keep him buried. No digging. Whoever he was, I didn’t like him and wanted nothing to do with him.
We entered the cafeteria, and John got me a coffee from the vending machine. It tasted terrible, but I couldn’t help drinking it and smiling. The cafeteria was still quiet, and we sat next to each other on one of the tables. I struggled to keep the conversation light.
“So, what’s your favorite band?” I asked, swinging my legs back and forth.
He tilted his head and squinted, thinking. “I like lots of music. Maybe Pearl Jam is my favorite band. Or Eric Clapton. The Kinks.” He grinned. “I like songs with lyrics. How about you?” John asked.
I played with my paper coffee cup. The few sips I’d taken were scraping the sides of my intestines. “I love the Kinks. I’m totally into ‘60s rock ‘n’ roll. The Beatles. The Doors … and more modern stuff, too. I like the Police, too, and Pearl Jam. ‘Just Breathe’ is a great song.”
“It’s about death. Going to the other side.”
Silence.
John leaned into me with his shoulder, and I didn’t move away. I let our bodies connect. At first the tingles ran down my one arm, the one he was touching, but then they coursed into my stomach and through all the rest of my limbs. Then the tingles turned to a throbbing sensation that I felt all over my body. I could have sworn I was feeling my blood pulsating, through my skin and my clothes. My heart raced, ticking wildly. My face flushed. I realized that I had absolutely no control over my reactions.
I tried to catch my breath.
And I wondered if he was feeling the same thing I was.
“I like the Grateful Dead. Such a great name for a band.” He paused, then looked my way. “You really don’t believe in what we were talking about earlier? About people being able to talk to the dead?”
“No,” I said. The heat in my body subsided a little, enough for me to answer his question. “I think it’s all a bunch of hocuspocus.” I mimed the words hocus-pocus as if I were a Halloween witch, just to do something with my hands. “I think everyone dies, and that’s it.”
“But where do we go? Does anyone come back in spirit form?”
I swallowed. Papa had come to me when he died, and he still showed up now and again. He had told me that all the spirits who came to me were people who had died. People who couldn’t for some reason leave the earth or, like Papa, just wanted to visit to tell me things. I kept swinging my legs. Back and forth. Back and forth. Who was the guy in the hall? Why had he come to me?
Because you’re weird, thats why.
I didn’t answer John, and silence hung around us like an uninvited guest.
John spoke first. “Well, I guess everyone is entitled to their own opinion.” He shrugged, turned away, and stared at the drab beige cafeteria wall, deep in thought. I kept silent and continued swinging my legs. Then the bell rang.
“Time for class.” I slid off the table. “Hey, you want to meet for lunch?” I blurted out.
“I can’t,” he mumbled, quickly looking away. “I’ve got something I have to do.”
“Okay,” I replied, trying to sound cool. “No big deal.”
Crushed, I didn’t go to my first class and instead went outside for a smoke. A brisk wind smacked me in the face, until I rounded the corner that led to the little concrete area beside the school that was designated as the smoking pad. It was sheltered from the wind. Kids milled about, red sparks sizzling like strobe lights. As soon as I entered, I saw Sarah, Zoe, and Carly, so I made my way over to them. I had started hanging out with Sarah shortly after grade ten, when Lacey made varsity volleyball. Through Sarah I had met Zoe and Carly. Lacey and I were clearly on different paths. Lacey had never smoked a cigarette in her life.
Lacey. I’m so sorry.
You did the right thing, Indie. The soft, kind man’s voice poked through my thoughts.
“Hey, Indie.” Sarah waved her hand in front my eyes, snapping her fingers to get my attention.
“Hey.” I pulled out my cigarettes, thankful for the distraction. Smoking gave me something to do with my hands, took me outside of my head and away from the voices. I sparked my cigarette on Sarah’s and inhaled. When I exhaled, I let the smoke out in one slow, steady stream. Mindless. Numbing. I listened to everyone talk about school, teachers, good bands, bad bands, new songs, old songs, while my mind chattered about other things.
Lacey hated me; John had rejected me.
I had seen a ghost at school.
I wanted to go home.
And do what? Lie on my bed? Listen to music? And think about how I was totally messing things up on a daily basis? I couldn’t stop thinking about John. His saying no to meeting for lunch had really hurt. But maybe he really did have something to do.
Or maybe he just doesn’t like you.
“Indie, we seriously should get our band going again,” said Sarah, using her hands to talk. “Remember, we talked about it the other night at the party?”
“Ha ha,” I said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d remember.”
“I wasn’t that drunk. Not like someone else I know.” Sarah hip-checked me.
I laughed. “I’m in,” I said. Unexpected excitement spread through my body. To be back playing music in our band would be awesome. I had loved hashing over what songs we would do, then searching for the music, listening to it, memorizing the lyrics, and rehearsing. This was exactly what I needed. It would take my mind off John. I stubbed out my cigarette.
“Me too,” said Carly. She too had excitement in her voice. “I just got a new keyboard.”
“Count me in, too,” exclaimed Zoe.
“Why don’t we meet at Denny’s after school today—the one in South Keys?” Sarah asked. “We can talk about songs and stuff like that. Get organized. I got a new drum set for my b-day last year. You’re still playing your guitar, eh, Indie?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“You still writing poetry, too? Maybe we could try some original songs.”
“I guess we could try,” I said, flattered that they thought I could write a song. “That would be pretty cool to create our own song! We could jam to figure out the tune.”
Sarah, Zoe, and Carly all put up their hands for high fives. Then
Sarah said, “Denny’s it is for a meeting of the minds.”
I high-fived everyone back. I was planning on heading to a bookstore anyway to try to buy a new book for John, seeing as I’d destroyed the one he’d lent me, and there was a bookstore close to Denny’s, so this was perfect.
“I’m going early ‘cause I don’t have last block,” said Sarah.
“I’d skip, but I got a test.”
“Just meet us in there. In the smoking section.”
I nodded. Then the bell rang. I walked back into school just as the halls started to fill with students. My fingers were frozen, so I shoved them in the pockets of my jacket. At least I had something to do after school and with my time.
As I walked to my class, I passed Lacey, and when I saw the hollowness circling her eyes, a pain flamed in my chest. My lungs burned so badly that I had to stop walking to lean against the wall. Hurt seeped through my skin to my bones, and my chest felt as if a rubber band were tightening around it. Lacey had this way of walking tall with her chin up and shoulders square, but I could see through that. Her heart was broken.
I had just gotten back into step to get to class when I saw Burke approaching from the other side of the hall. Was he going to blast me? Embarrass me in front of everyone? Had Lacey told him? He passed, smiled, said hi, and kept moving.
Thank you, Lacey.
All day I kept looking up and down the halls in search of John, but when school ended, I hadn’t seen him again. Had he skipped? My heart burned in pain, and something crazy invaded my limbs: numbness, heaviness, sadness. Why did I get these overwhelming feelings of sadness all the time?
I headed to the bus stop to go to the mall. As soon as I got there, I saw Nathan Carroll huddled off to the side, standing alone as usual. He was teased mercilessly for being small and nerdy and having pimples and braces. I always felt for him. He didn’t deserve to be the butt of everyone’s jokes; it wasn’t fair. I walked up to him.
“Hi, Nathan,” I said.
“Hi, Indie.” He glanced at me, then quickly looked away again.
“Do you usually take this bus?” I asked, wanting to make conversation.