by Edie Claire
“Totally!” they chorused in unison, pulling their clothes back on over their swimsuits.
“I’ll walk out with you, too,” Lacey offered, glancing at the clock. She had finished her shift a while ago, but didn’t seem in a hurry to leave. “And if we see this dude, I’m threatening to call the police. This is a family establishment, after all!” She threw her shoulders back with bravado, and I tried hard not to grin. It was tough to take Lacey seriously as an authority figure for the pool when she looked more like some cherub out of a medieval painting. But you had to admire her chutzpah.
“Any chance you’re not working tomorrow?” I asked as we walked out the gates. It would be fun to take Lacey to the North Shore with us. Maybe we could even get Matt to show up.
“I wish,” Lacey said solemnly. “But I’m working every day now. The best I get is a two-hour break at noon, like today. But that actually works out all right, because—”
“There he is,” Tara said grimly, pointing. “The blond one.”
I looked up to see three guys in their late teens hanging out around a parked car about thirty feet away from us. The blond one was Austin.
Lacey’s face went deathly pale.
I didn’t need to ask Tara if she was sure. I was sure. I was sure because I already knew that Austin was a jerk and because it was pretty obvious in retrospect that Lacey had been about to say “because Austin’s coming to take me out to lunch.” Unless, of course, he found something more enticing to do in the meantime.
“Don’t go over there by yourself, Lace,” I said quickly, stepping between her and the guys, who as yet hadn’t noticed any of us. “Maybe you should just tell your manager. Anyway, we’ll definitely have to hang out sometime this week. Even if it’s for a late dinner or something. Just text me and let me know. Okay?”
Her thick lashes blinked back tears, even as her cheeks flamed with red. Her cornflower blue eyes burned with a fiery mixture of fury, hurt, and gratitude. “Sure, Kali. Thanks,” she squeaked, turning away from us and back toward the pool gates. “Bye, guys.”
Kylee and Tara called back their goodbyes, and we all moved towards my car. Fortunately for Lacey’s pride, no one but me had witnessed her distress. Kylee and Tara had been keeping their eyes on the Neanderthal. Austin never did notice Lacey, but shortly before we reached our car, we heard him whistling at Tara again. We got in the car without responding and I revved up the engine, trying hard to suppress lurid fantasies of mowing the guy down on our way out.
I had driven several blocks before I realized that Kylee and Tara were arguing.
“That was one guy,” Kylee insisted. “You cannot—”
“Oh, yes I can!” Tara fired back. “I barely had that stupid suit on an hour! Why don’t I just hang a sign around my neck that says ‘harass me?’”
“What happened with that one jerk was not the suit’s fault!” Kylee raged. “Most guys aren’t like that and you know it. What matters is that you look gorgeous in it! You have to wear it today!”
“I do not!”
My head swam. I was sick with sympathy for Lacey’s crushed feelings, but I had to confess I was also a tiny bit relieved. It was well past time she put “rebound guy” aside and moved on with the business of realizing she should be with Matt. And although I probably should be bothered by the strife between Kylee and Tara, I had missed them so terribly all summer that their familiar bickering was like music to my ears.
“But if I don’t want guys to paw me, and I don’t, why should I even wear a suit like this?”
“Because it makes you feel good about yourself and because the nice guys will enjoy it, that’s why!”
“Who says it makes me feel good about myself?”
I hummed merrily as they continued to argue all the way down the H1. The rainclouds had thinned to a partly sunny sky and the temperature was holding nicely in the upper seventies. I had a nagging feeling that I should be concentrating more on what had happened with the ghost last night — trying to figure it out, trying to keep it from happening again — but in the happy light of day it was all too easy to shove such dark thoughts aside. Kylee and I had agonized forever last night worrying over what to do with the clothes in the dryer and how to remove them before anyone else came under attack, only to find out that even as we debated, Tara had snuck out and quietly folded them all. She’d put them in a paper sack in the tool shed to store until Tim Jones’ suitcase was completely dried and de-scented, and she had experienced no ghostly problems whatsoever. Her opinion was that the two of us should just stay away from the stuff and let her handle it.
So, hey. Why stress?
“By the way, Kali,” Tara asked cheerfully, the swimsuit argument apparently forgotten. “Where are we going, exactly?”
I grinned. “The spitting cave of Portlock.”
“Ooh,” Kylee cooed. “Sounds awesome! What does it spit?”
“You’ll find out!”
We parked in an upscale residential neighborhood and walked beside a chain-link fence along a path between two houses. The brush was thick, and if it weren’t for the fact that we kept passing people coming the other way, I’m pretty sure Kylee and Tara would accuse me of leading me them either into the middle of nowhere or straight off a cliff, as I did when Zane first led me down this path and which, ironically, was not far from the truth.
When the brush opened up I turned around to enjoy my friends’ expressions as they took in the view. We were high above the ocean, standing on bare, sloping rock. It was impossible to tell how far up we were. The slope was so abrupt that from where we were standing it appeared as if you could walk straight out and drop straight down. Naturally, there was no guard rail. This was Hawaii. I chuckled as their eyes widened and they unconsciously braced their feet beneath them.
“This way,” I instructed, picking my way along the side of the cliff. Above us, all along the ridge of the cliff, were magnificent houses with spectacular views that none of us could ever afford to live in. But the beaches of Hawaii were open to all, and this cliff, technically speaking, was a beach. Unlike the twisted, spiky lava rock common to the North Shore, the rock here was laid down in smooth circular bands, kind of like cake batter looked when you poured it into a pan. The whole cliffside was made of the smooth, rippling layers of rock, and it wasn’t difficult to climb on… if you weren’t afraid of heights. The path I followed was a well-traversed zig-zag that led down the gentlest possible slope, and Kylee and Tara followed me bravely until we had descended enough to see the main attraction. I picked out a relatively flat spot and sat down, then encouraged them to sit beside me. I had to double-check my empath blind, because the shadows here were numerous and my first visit had been made all the more harrowing by the feelings of those whose companions had not come back. But like most spots of raw natural beauty, the cumulative awe and wonder of those visiting before did help to balance out the element of danger.
“Oh, my God,” Kylee breathed with reverence. “Kali, this is so amazingly gorgeous!”
Indeed it was. Our new vantage point was halfway down to the water, and from here we could look across to see the waves crashing into the foot of the towering cliffs all along their scallop-shaped banks. The striated layers of rock gleamed red and gray in the sun, and the dark blue water turned frothy white as it exploded upon their meeting.
“Wow,” Tara exclaimed. “I love that sound. I could listen to crashing waves all day!”
“See that hole?” I said, pointing to an unremarkable looking divot in between two scalloped arms of the cliff. “The one that looks like the entrance to a sea cave? Keep watching it.”
As the waves continued to crash into the rocks, the mysterious mechanism within soon met its requirements. We heard a bumping, rocking sound, then a gush, and with a spew and a hiss, the spitting cave of Portlock showed its opinion of the Pacific by shooting a giant stream of water straight back out of the cave mouth. As the frothy rejects sprayed back over the ocean, the assembled onlookers l
aughed and cheered.
“That is so cool!” Tara and Kylee proclaimed together. “How does it do that?”
They continued to watch in wonder as the cave did its thing, with Tara pondering the physics involved and Kylee pretending to care, while I pulled out my phone for a quick check-in with Zane.
Watching the cave spit. And you?
His answer was almost immediate.
Waiting for BBQ chicken at Ted’s.
I smiled. A plate lunch at Ted’s Bakery was always a treat, no matter how long it took.
Jealous! All we’ve had today is cereal and fruit. Kylee starving us for sexy beachwear purposes.
His answer both warmed my heart and embarrassed me, as always.
Hey, while you were pigging out on nachos last night, I had PB&J! Your sexiness for beachwear purposes already maxed out.
Sometimes I didn’t know how to take his compliments, since it was clear to anyone with a halfway objective eye that I was nowhere near the female equivalent of his own ridiculously good looks. But he seemed to think he knew what he liked, so who was I to argue with him?
Thanks for that. :)
I stuffed my phone back in my pocket, and after my friends had spent a suitable amount of time ogling the natural wonder before us, I rose. “Okay, guys,” I announced. “That’s enough spitting. We’re off to the blowhole.”
Kylee raised an eyebrow at me. “The blowhole? Is that what it sounds like?”
I chuckled. “Probably.”
“Awesome!” Tara declared. “Let’s do it.”
We were all the way back in the car and pulling out of the neighborhood when the critical words from Zane’s texts popped out front and center in my brain. There they floated, like a pregnant rain cloud — dark, ominous, and waiting for just the right moment to drop their heavy load.
I ran back over our limited conversations in my mind, replaying everything I had said, everything I had texted, and every other possibility by which anyone else might have transmitted the information in question.
Nope. I hadn’t said a thing. Nor could anyone else have.
It seemed like such a small matter. But the implications scared the crap out of me.
I’d never once told Zane that we’d eaten nachos last night. And there was no way he could have known that.
Unless he had seen it himself.
Chapter 9
I kept my mouth shut all the way down the Kalianaole Highway. With chiseled cliffs towering above us to the left and dark rock and blue ocean below us to the right, the scenery was way too beautiful to be spoiled by my brooding. I let Kylee and Tara ooh and aah and squeal in peace as we snaked along the southeast coast of Oahu.
The Halona Blowhole Lookout, which unlike the spitting cave was actually a sanctioned tourist attraction with signs and a parking lot, was one of my own favorite spots outside of the North Shore. The multi-level, paved overlook was built right into the side of the mountain that sloped down into the sea and was easily accessible with wide concrete steps, stone walls, and actual guard rails that conveniently showed where an intelligent person should and should not stand in order to avoid certain death. The lava rocks here were different again from those of the cliffs near the spitting cave, being rougher-edged and tossed in an unruly jumble. They were more difficult to walk or climb on, and definitely more painful to fall on — although pain was a relative thing, depending on whether you stopped at that rock or went tumbling helplessly on down to the ocean.
We filed out of the car and went to stand at the railing with a handful of other tourists whose attention was fixed on… a bunch of wet rocks. “Wait for it,” I promised.
From the sharp tips of the green peaks behind and above us, the earth swept out and down in tumbled stages, forming a series of plateaus. The highway and the lookout we were on rested at one level, and the chaotic expanse of rocks we were currently staring at formed another beneath us. As the waves crashed relentlessly into the base of this rocky pedestal, billows of white frothed up and splashed onto its jagged edges.
“Oh, I see it!” Tara exclaimed, pointing. “Is that it?”
From the middle of the rocky area in question came a sudden burst of white, much like a puff of cigarette smoke. It erupted from a hole in the floor and released straight up into the air.
“Keep waiting,” I instructed.
The blowhole puffed again. Then after a few seconds it made a sort of gurgling sound, followed by an uncoordinated, unbalanced plume of white that pitched to one side.
“Was that,” Kylee began. “Wait, whoa!”
The blowhole made its grand entrance. A huge fountain of bright white shot straight out of the ground with a mighty roar, towering high up into the sky before plummeting back down to spatter the rocks around it with a mighty smack. Lesser plumes completed the show, huffing and puffing and chugging until the pressure was released. Then the swirls of white froth wriggled their way among the crags and channels back into the ocean, and the unassuming hole lay quiet again, looking innocent as a cat.
“Awesome!” Kylee praised. “Just like Old Faithful!”
“Except it’s not faithful at all,” Tara mused. “It’s totally at the whim of the tide and the ocean swells. That was so cool!”
I could stand it no more. “You guys enjoy,” I heard myself saying. “I’m going to step over here and call Zane real quick.”
They paid no attention to me as I backed away and moved to sit on a low stone wall away from the main attraction. I was practically sitting on the laps of two different overlapping shadows, but I refused to let that bother me. The blowhole was always crawling with shadows, and right now I was so preoccupied that their faint and fleeting concerns barely registered. I made my call.
Zane didn’t pick up till the third ring. “Hey, there,” he answered, sounding ever so slightly nervous to my well-trained ear. “What’s up?”
You know exactly what, I thought grimly. “How did you know we were eating nachos last night?” I asked.
His response came a beat quicker than expected. And his voice was way, way too chipper.
“They looked really good, actually. Was that mango mixed in with the peppers?”
“Zane!” I fumed.
“Okay, okay!” he said with a guilty chuckle. “I know, I shouldn’t joke about it. I’m sorry, Kali. Really I am. I tried to tell you about it this morning.”
My teeth gritted. That was true, he had. I closed my eyes. This is not good. “Please tell me that you’re still just seeing flashes,” I begged. “Of… almost empty rooms.”
“Well, yes, but—”
His next silence was nearly unbearable.
“It’s still nothing like the long scene at the beach or when I saw the car accident,” he finished. “But the flashes have gotten a lot more frequent. Not so much when I was out surfing yesterday, but last night and then again today… it seems to happen whenever I’m thinking about you.”
“What are you seeing?” I asked, bracing myself. “Tell me exactly.”
He blew out a breath, and I could imagine a shock of his adorable curls ruffling up off his forehead. “Nachos,” he reported. “Your room with air mattresses on the floor. This morning I could see the rain outside on your lanai.”
“What about right now?” I asked hopefully. “Can you see my mother working at her computer?”
“Um… It doesn’t work like that.”
“What do you mean?”
He paused. “Look, Kali, there’s something else going on here. I’m really sorry. I didn’t ask for this, and I’m not trying to do it. But I can’t control it, either. Whenever I think about you, it just—”
My pulse raced. “Tell me what you’ve seen!”
“You guys eating breakfast,” he answered tightly. “The pool. Lacey meeting your friends. Driving down the H1. I knew you were at the spitting cave before you told me and I know you’re at the blowhole now. I’m sorry, Kali.”
HOLY CRAP!
“Listen,” he ple
aded into the silence that followed. “I promise I haven’t seen anything embarrassing. I really haven’t. I haven’t actually even seen you. What I get is a flash of a room, or the car, or the area you’re in, and sometimes I catch the people around and sometimes I don’t.”
“Why can’t you see me?” I croaked. I really, really hoped he was telling the truth about the nothing embarrassing part.
I was pretty sure he was.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “All I know is, whatever’s going on, it keeps changing. The first flashes were really quick and not too often. Now they’re all the time, and it seems like there’s more to them. I don’t know for sure because with the whole stalker thing I’ve really been trying not to look. But the truth is, if I tried to see more? I’m almost positive I could.”
“Don’t you dare!” I snapped. Then I got a grip. “I’m sorry. Defensive reflex. Dialing back now. What I meant to say is that I appreciate your not taking advantage of the situation.” Which you still could, I reminded myself. Geez, this was a nightmare! “Please, Zane, can you just keep trying to ignore it until we figure out what’s happening, here? Because this is really creeping me out.”
“I get that,” he said quickly. “And I am trying.” His voice deepened. “It’ll be better when we’re together tomorrow. Neither one of us will have to worry about it then.”
I thought about how nice it would be to feel his arms around me again, and tomorrow looked like a better day for any number of reasons.
“There has to be a way for you to shut it off,” I said hopefully. “I’ll ask Kylee. If she doesn’t know, surely her grandmother will have some idea.”
“Okay,” he replied, his voice tense again. “But… you do realize that this is going to make your friends think I’m totally twisted now, right? I mean, I may not see you, but I have seen them.”
I froze. “You’ve seen—”
“No, no,” he clarified quickly. “I told you I didn’t see anything embarrassing. I just mean that I’ve literally seen them in the flashes.”