The words hit like a punch in the stomach. “Griffon’s gone,” I finally say, clearing my throat, realizing after almost two weeks that it really is true. “Proof that even the strongest connection sometimes isn’t enough.” I close my eyes and shake the emotion off. “You’re just trying to take advantage of her. Rayne’s different. She’s not like us.”
“Neither were you just a few months ago,” Veronique says. “A few months ago, you weren’t Akhet. Maybe Rayne is ready to transition too.”
“What, like you’re just going to wave your arms and magically Rayne is going to start remembering her past lives? Wouldn’t that be convenient.”
“I’m not a child!” Rayne yells at me. As she turns away, I catch a glimpse of something around her neck, hanging from a silver chain. “You don’t have to stand here—”
“What is that?” I interrupt, pointing at her chest. The ankh isn’t like any I’ve ever seen before—it has a black stone in the middle and some kind of hieroglyphic writing on the front. “Where did you get it?”
Rayne glances at Veronique and my fury boils up all over again. I can’t believe it. “Take it off,” I insist.
Rayne puts one hand over the pendant. “You’re not my mother.”
I grab her by the shoulders, wishing I could shake some sense into her. “I know you think this is some kind of romantic story, but it’s not. Veronique is just making this whole thing up to fit some twisted agenda. Don’t you remember what Griffon said? We shouldn’t even be standing here talking to her.”
I see a glimmer of doubt in her eyes, so I keep charging forward. “Veronique also thought I killed Alessandra. Her track record isn’t all that good up to now. If you’re so sure about what she’s saying, call Griffon.” I reach in my pocket and hold out my phone. “Call him right now and tell him where we are and what she’s said.”
“I don’t know,” Rayne hesitates. She glances at Veronique. “Everything she said made so much sense . . .”
I look into her eyes, willing Rayne to trust me. “Because she’s very good at telling lies. That’s what she does. Just because she wants you to be Alessandra, that doesn’t mean it’s true.”
Rayne nods slowly, her eyes locked on mine. I don’t know if she totally believes me, but I’ve managed to plant enough doubt to get her out of here. She reaches up and unclasps the chain from around her neck. “I’m sorry, Veronique,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper as she hands it to her.
“I’m sorry too,” I say, as I put one arm around her shoulder and lead her down the street.
Seventeen
“A reggae festival? Since when do you go to reggae festivals?”
We walk out of the tunnel and into Golden Gate Park. The meadow is crowded with people dancing by the stage, pounding away in drum circles, lying on giant blankets staring at the sky, and standing in clumps playing hacky sack. Pretty much all the stuff we usually make fun of.
“You wanted to know what we were doing today,” Rayne says, swinging Peter’s arm back and forth. “This is what we’re doing.” I can tell from the edge in her voice that she’s still a little bit mad at me.
“But reggae?” I wave my hand in front of my face to try to get rid of some of the pot smoke that’s hanging in the air. After all the Veronique nonsense from yesterday, I’m glad to see her with Peter again. It took most of the day, but I finally managed to convince her that Veronique is full of crap. At least I think I did. Rayne is such a hopeless romantic that I can never be entirely sure. I’m just going to have to keep a close eye on her from now on.
“This is what’s going on in the park today. Besides, it’s free and it’s a nice day, so stop complaining.” Rayne rubs her arm and winces.
I glance down at her skin. “What’s wrong? You’re all red.”
“I don’t know,” she says, looking at her arms. They’re both a bright pink color. “I must have gotten sunburned without realizing it. It really hurts.”
I look closely at her face. “Your cheeks are red too.” I put one hand up to her forehead. “You feel hot. Are you getting sick?”
“I don’t think so,” she says. “But I do have a little headache.”
“I have some Advil,” I say, fishing around in my bag.
“It’s okay,” Rayne says. She puts her finger and her thumb on either side of her other hand and presses down. “I’ll just do some acupressure. That should work.”
I sigh. Rayne always wants to go the holistic route. “If you say so.”
Peter puts one arm around her shoulders and I trudge along a few feet behind them. My phone buzzes, so I pull it out to glance at the number. I realize I’m smiling as I open up Drew’s text.
What r u doing?
I text him back. At a reggae fest in the park.
No, seriously. Where r u?
Seriously. GGPark. With Rayne and her BF.
Drum circles and hacky sack?
I laugh out loud, and Rayne looks back at me. You must be a regular.
I rule at hacky sack.
Don’t know if I would brag about that.
“Who is it?” Rayne asks.
I glance over at Peter. He still talks to Griffon. “Nobody.”
You should know by now that I have many talents.
There’s a pause for a few moments. And then he texts again. I had fun on Friday.
I hesitate, not wanting to encourage something I can’t finish. Me too.
Do it again soon?
I glance up and realize we’ve stopped walking. Peter is nodding his head to the music from a band that’s on the stage, and Rayne is just looking at me. Maybe. GTG.
I slide the phone back in my pocket as we wander around the park looking at the booths full of tie-dye and pipes that are to be used for legal tobacco products only, if the signs posted are any indication.
We start down the hill toward another part of the festival with Peter leading the way, past the merry-go-round and through the playground back to the meadow. I look over and involuntarily glance up at the top of the cement slide that’s carved into the side of the hill. At the top of the slide was where my life changed forever—where Griffon first told me about being Ahket.
Rayne untangles her arm from Peter’s and reaches into her bag, catching my eye as I watch her. “Maybe . . . maybe that Advil . . . ,” she says, but her words sound thick and heavy. I lean over and look at her carefully. Her face is flushed, and I can see through her sunglasses that she’s squinting her eyes as if the light is hurting them. I start to say something to her about seeing a doctor when her bag slips off her shoulder. As she bends down to pick it up, she stumbles slightly, her body weaving as she tries to stand up straight.
“Rayne?” I say, taking a step toward her. “Are you okay?”
With immense effort, she turns to look at me, one hand pressing against her forehead. “I don’t—” she begins, but her knees buckle and in an instant she’s lying in a heap on the grass.
Peter drops to the ground beside her, cradling her head in his lap. “Rayne!” he calls. He rubs her cheek, but she just turns her head and moans, eyes shut tight and her jaw clenched against the pain.
“I’ll call 911!” I shout, watching her motionless on the ground. I fumble in my pocket for my phone.
“There are some paramedics in the parking lot,” a guy next to us says. “I’ll go get them. It’ll be faster.”
People around us start noticing Rayne on the ground and push back to give us some space. I kneel down by her head, not having a clue what to do.
“Come on, Rayne,” Peter says. “You’ll be okay. Just hang on, you’ll be okay.” He repeats that over and over again like a chant as he holds her hand, one thumb rubbing her fingers. “You’ll be okay.”
It seems like forever, but finally two men in uniform push through the crowd carrying big medical boxes. “Out of the way!” they shout. “Give us room.” They bend down, feeling for her pulse and checking her eyes. “Who’s with this girl?” the blond one asks.
“We are,” Peter says. “Is she going to be okay?”
The other guy speaks into a radio that’s hanging at his shoulder, calling for the ambulance.
“What’s she on?” he asks. “What did she take?”
I stare at him. They think she OD’d. “Nothing! She didn’t take anything!”
He glances over and I know that he doesn’t believe me. “Her pupils are huge. The best way to help your friend is to tell us what she took.”
I lean in closer to him. “I’m telling you, she didn’t take anything! Do something! Don’t just sit there!”
Peter puts his arm around me, as much to hold me back as for comfort, I imagine. “Cole’s right. One second she was fine, the next she was on the ground.”
I glance from him to the paramedic, who nods, although I still don’t know if he believes us. I take a deep breath and try to calm down. “She said she had a headache,” I say, “and she was really hot.”
He reaches for a syringe just as Rayne’s eyes roll into the back of her head. Her fists clench and her legs jerk as her body arches up in a tremor. “She’s posturing!” he shouts to the other guy. “Where’s that ambulance? We need to get her out of here now!”
We stand there watching helplessly as waves of convulsions take over her body until they load her into the ambulance, slamming the doors as they speed out of the park.
We call Rayne’s mom on the way to the car, and by the time we get to the hospital she’s standing in the waiting room, looking lost. Her eyes are red and frantic, so I walk over and give her a hug. She holds me tight, and I know she’s giving me what she’d rather be giving Rayne right now. “They asked me to leave the room,” she says. “They’re going to have to intubate her, and they don’t want me in there.” She looks at me and tears well up in her eyes. “She’s not even breathing on her own. What happened?”
I squeeze her hand. “I don’t know. She said she wasn’t feeling well, and then she just collapsed on the ground.”
“They said she might be on drugs. Did she take anything? You have to be honest with me.”
“She’s not on anything, I promise,” Peter says. “Cole tried to give her an Advil and she didn’t even want that. You know how she is.”
“I know,” her mom sniffs. “I’m so glad you two were with her.” She puts one hand to her mouth. “I can’t imagine what would have happened if she’d been alone.”
“It just looks bad,” I say. “She’s going to get through this just fine.” I say that to convince all of us, because any other outcome is inconceivable. “Where’s Sienna?” Rayne’s sister should be here instead of me.
Rayne’s mom looks up, momentarily confused. “I . . . um . . . I think she’s at work. I should call her.”
“I’ll do it if you want me to,” I say.
She glances at the commotion in the emergency room. “No, I will. She should hear it from me.”
Before she can move, a nurse pokes her head out of the emergency room. “Mrs. Foreman? Your daughter is stable for now. We’re going to transfer her up to the ICU. You’re welcome to come up, but I’m afraid everyone else will have to stay in the waiting room. We have to limit visitors, at least for tonight.”
We walk to the doorway as her mom looks at us with panic in her eyes. “ICU. That’s bad, isn’t it?”
Peter puts a hand on her arm. “It’s the best place for her right now. She’s going to be okay.”
The curtains are pulled back, and through the team of doctors and nurses that surround her, I can see Rayne lying flat on the rolling bed, a tube down her throat and tape on her mouth as one nurse squeezes a bag every few seconds to help her breathe. One hand pokes through the railing they’ve put up around the mattress, and more than anything I want to grab it, to give the fingers with the chipped blue nail polish a reassuring squeeze, but before I can make a move, they’re halfway down the hall.
Rayne’s mom hesitates for just a second. “Where are all of her things? Her purse, her phone? She never goes anywhere without her phone.”
“I’ve got everything,” I say. “Go with her. I’ll bring her stuff home and you can get it later.”
“Thanks,” her mom says, tears shining in her eyes as she turns to follow the crowd of people toward the elevator.
Eighteen
I hold the soft edge of Mum’s sari in my fingers and feel a flood of emotions that aren’t mine. Sadness, definitely. That’s to be expected, even though I’ve told her over and over again that I’ll be okay. I’m ready to go. I put one hand up to her face, my fingers exploring her mouth as it turns down in the corners and the dampness her tears leave in the corners of her eyes. She sits completely still and lets me.
“Mummy, don’t be sad. You’ll make it harder.”
I can hear her sniff, even though she’s trying to cover it up. “I know. You’re going to have a wonderful time in England and learn so many things. I’m just going to miss you.”
“Me too,” I say. “I’ll be home soon, though.” There’s something else—excitement, an undercurrent that’s almost giddy. I can tell she’s trying to suppress it, but it’s there just as clearly as if I can see it with my own eyes. I hesitate, then lean into her before whispering, “I know you have a secret.”
Mum pulls her hand out of mine and I feel her move a small distance away. “Secret? I don’t have a secret.”
I turn my face in the direction of her voice. “You do. I can feel it.”
I hear her gasp. “How can you possibly feel it? The baby is still so small—it will be many more months before it is born.”
Baby. Mummy is going to have another baby. That’s the secret she’s been keeping. Daddy too. I pretend like I knew this all along. “I just can,” I say, as mysteriously as possible.
“No secret is safe around you lately.” Even though she doesn’t say it out loud, I know what she means. Now that my eyes are gone, everything else has been pushed into vivid focus. Sounds are louder, touch is more sensitive. And that small voice we all carry inside is much more insistent.
“Isn’t that as it should be?” I smile at her. “And soon you will have a new baby, so you will not miss me as much.”
Mum presses me to her chest. Even though all I see is blackness, I inhale the familiar powdery scent and feel her heart beating through her sari. “I will always miss you just as much,” she says, and even without listening to the voice inside, I know she means every word.
I blink in the darkness, and for a second I can’t tell whether my eyes are open or not, just like in the dream. Lying still, I let my mind wander over what I’ve just seen and realize that it wasn’t a dream, it was another memory.
Gradually, my eyes adjust to the dim light in my room, and I can make out a faint gray light that outlines the closed curtains. I’ve only been asleep for a couple of hours, but I’m amazed that I managed to doze off at all. In a rush, the events of yesterday come flooding back and I roll onto my side, curling my legs under me. My stomach lurches as I think about Rayne being wheeled out of the room, the bag filled with air the only thing keeping her alive.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I grab my cell but see only the screensaver, no new texts. I hesitate only a second before I begin typing the letters. Early morning, late night; time doesn’t mean much in this kind of a crisis.
How is she?
Peter texts back almost immediately. About the same. Won’t let me see her. I can picture him sitting in the hard plastic chairs of the waiting room. Maybe if I come, he’ll go home for a little while.
I’m coming. Coffee?
Pls. Lots.
I pull on my jeans, trying not to think past getting to the hospital. After scribbling a quick note, I hurry through the quiet house and out the door, holding my breath for fear that I’ll wake someone and have to explain why I’m going out so early in the morning. Mom and Dad will argue that there’s nothing I can do for Rayne right now. They don’t get that I’m not going for Rayne. I’m going for me, becau
se I can’t stand not to.
I run up to Haight Street and turn the corner, alternately running and walking a few steps in order to catch my breath. The street is practically deserted—all of the stores still have their metal grates solidly in front of their doors, although the smell of coffee drifts in the air as the cafés get ready to open for the day. The few humans on the sidewalk are hidden in doorways by lumps of rags or tattered sleeping bags, their spare-change cups empty but at the ready by their sides.
Café Sienna is already buzzing with life when I get there. I glance toward the back, half expecting to see Veronique at the table, but for the moment it’s empty. I get coffee for all three of us on a brown cardboard tray and load my pockets up with sugar, because I have no idea how Peter or Rayne’s mom take it.
The bus stops just outside the hospital, and soon I’m balancing the drinks as I walk through the lobby toward the elevators. The security guard at the information booth doesn’t look up as I pass.
Peter’s the only one in the tenth-floor waiting room when I get there, sprawled out over a couple of chairs, the unwatched TV blaring in the corner. “Thanks,” he manages when I hand him one of the cups. He looks exhausted, but the dark circles under his eyes and the day’s growth of stubble make him look somehow even cuter than usual. I take out my phone and snap a picture of his scruffiness.
“What was that for?”
“For Rayne, when she gets better.” Because she has to get better. “Do you want some sugar?” I toss the packets onto the table.
Peter takes a sip. “No. I’m not sure I’ll even be able to get this down in the first place.”
“Is her mom in there?” I nod toward the locked doors of the ICU. Unlike downstairs, here you have to be buzzed in by the nurses.
“Yeah. She’s been there most of the night. She tried to get me to go home, but I’m not leaving until I see Rayne. And even then, I’m not sure.”
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