[Beautiful Dead 01] - Jonas

by Eden Maguire - (ebook by Undead)

  “What do you want to tell him?” I murmured. “I love him. I’ll always love him.” Her face, distorted with grief and wet with tears, tugged at my heart, knelt and put my arms around her shoulders.

  “What else?”

  “I want him to come back.”

  My heart stopped. One sentence from me and I could make it happen for her.

  Let me take you to Foxton Ridge to see Jonas. But it would destroy them all.

  Instead, I let her rest her head against my shoulder. “I know what you’re going through,” I sighed.

  “I knew you would. But Darina, do you ever talk about it?”

  “No.”

  “Not even to your mom?”

  “No way.”

  “Me neither. To Logan maybe?”

  “No. Not to anyone.”

  “I have visions,” Zoey confessed. “Sometimes I see Jonas riding his bike in the blinding sun. I’m calling his name but he’s riding away from me along a narrow, winding road, and the metal on his bike is flashing and gleaming. Other times I’m riding pillion and the wind is in my hair and my arms are round his waist. It ends in a terrible noise and blackness.”

  “I know,” I murmured. I couldn’t trust myself to say any more.

  “And then afterwards I hear him. He’s leaning over me and his voice is a long way off, telling me he’s sorry. Just that—over and over. And I try to say it’s not his fault, but the words won’t come off my tongue. They just roll around my mouth like it’s full of pebbles, and he’s gone before I can say them, and all I can hear is a kind of wind sighing through the darkness—more like wings beating, hundreds of them, maybe thousands—and then nothing. Jonas has gone and I’m saying ‘It’s not your fault’, and I lose the vision and then I’m alone and I can’t bear it—not another day, not another hour or minute.”

  “You have to bear it,” I told her in a shaky voice. “For Jonas’ sake.”

  And because I needed her to get her memory back. Not just in flashes, or visions, as she called them—but coolly, and in the right order, able to go through the fatal moments with a clear head.

  “I feel so lonely,” Zoey repeated.

  “You’re not alone. Jonas may be gone, but you have me.” I crouched down in front of her wheelchair so that she had to look me in the eye. “You know you can trust me.”

  Some old doubt in her messed-up head made Zoey suddenly draw back.

  “How can I be sure?”

  “Because we’ve been friends for ever.”

  “But then there was Matt,” she said, pushing away from me. “You totally humiliated me.”

  “No way,” I protested. “I already told you—that was all down to Matt. Why won’t you believe me?”

  “The way he told it, you did all the chasing—before Hannah’s party and afterwards.”

  “He’s lying.” I didn’t want to rake over old dirt, but Zoey was still angry and wouldn’t let go. “He probably wanted to get back with you, so he decided to rewrite history.”

  Zoey nodded. “He did try to get back, it’s true. He came on to me in school the next day.”

  “Matt is not a nice person. He thinks he’s irresistible, plus he’s a sore loser.”

  We had to get past Matt Fortune and move on. “Forget about him and talk to me about Jonas. What are you trying to tell him in your flashback—the part where he says sorry? It’s straight after the crash, isn’t it?”

  Slowly Zoey nodded. “That’s how come I can’t speak. I’m lying in the road and I can hardly breathe. I only see his face.”

  “I know, it happens so fast. It’s a hot day. One moment you’re riding in the sun, the next it’s over. Something happened and you’re trying to figure it out.”

  She nodded again, staring into space with a haunted look. “It wasn’t Jonas’ fault. That’s what I’m saying. I’m telling him there was something else…”

  “A car coming towards you on the wrong side of the road? A deer jumping out at you?” I suggested whatever popped into my head.

  “Neither of those things.” Zoey was trying hard to concentrate—to literally bring it all back together and make it make sense. I was holding my breath and gripping the back of her chair real hard. “I’m lying on the road and Jonas is kind of hovering over me. It feels like he’s floating.”

  “Go back further. Before that, what happened?”

  “Jonas crashed the bike,” she murmured. “Something went wrong.”

  “What happened?” I begged. “Was it the bike? Did a tyre blow? Was it the brakes?”

  “No.” Zoey blinked then seemed to give up. Her body sagged forward. “I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

  “You’re doing good,” I told her, stroking her hair and noticing that Mrs. Bishop had quietly opened the door. “Next time we talk, you’ll remember more.”

  “Hey, honey,” Zoey’s mom said. “You’re exhausted. It’s time for Darina to leave.”

  Zoey didn’t object. Instead she drew a deep sigh and shook her head. “Sorry,” she murmured.

  I squeezed her hand and tried to smile. “No problem. Get some sleep. I’ll call again tomorrow.”

  So I left her with her mom and walked straight into big, bad Daddy Bear waiting for me at the front door.

  “Don’t count on it,” Mr. Bishop warned. “I’m the guy who monitors my daughter’s visitors, and I’m not impressed by your influence over Zoey, Darina.”

  “Your wife called and asked me to come.” What else could I say? I shrugged and tried to walk out of the door.

  “I heard most of what went on in there,” he said, still standing in my way in his crisp red checked shirt and navy blue chinos. “And I’ve told you already—I don’t like the way you’re messing with Zoey’s head, trying to drag her back into traumas she can’t deal with.”

  I’d faced enough obstacles for one day and Russell Bishop was one too many. “No way,” I answered back. “You’re the ones who baby her and protect her from the reality of what happened!”

  Small muscles in his neck twitched and he jerked his head forward. “My daughter is seventeen years old and she can’t walk,” he hissed. “This family faces the reality of what happened to her every day of our lives!”

  Ouch! I blinked then nodded. “Sorry. But Mrs. Bishop did call me. Zoey needed to talk.”

  “Zoey is too messed up to know what she needs,” Mr. Bishop insisted, opening the door and showing me out. “But I’m her dad, and I make the decisions on her behalf. So I’m telling you, Darina, we only let you into the house tonight because Zoey was out of control and we had no way of getting the experts in here. We gave in to her demands, but don’t expect it to happen again.”

  “Even if Zoey calls me?” I was getting the message loud and clear: Don’t darken our door ever again!

  Mr. Bishop stared straight through me. “Goodbye, Darina,” he said as he closed the door.

  Next day I woke up early and there was a shiny red convertible sitting on the drive.

  “It’s yours,” Laura told me, dangling the keys from her little finger. “Brandon Rohr dropped it off earlier.”

  “So now I believe in Santa Claus,” Jim mumbled on his way out of the house.

  “He drove your old car away.” It was obvious that Laura didn’t know how to judge Brandon’s motives. “You and Brandon—you’re not… dating?”

  “Please!” I snorted, taking the keys from her.

  “Is it on loan, or do you get to keep it?” She came to the door and watched me start the engine—no clunking or coughing, just a smooth purr.

  “I have no idea.” I really didn’t. “Anyhow, I’m taking it on a test drive through Centennial.”

  “So ask Brandon next time you see him. And tell him I need to check the paperwork!”

  I waved and backed on to the street, then turned at the junction to head towards Foxton with nothing in my head except testing my new red car.

  Sweet! /thought, halfway to becoming a car nut before I’d even been drivi
ng it for five minutes. Smooth suspension, great acceleration and the cutest set of dials in front of me, with a neat beige leather steering wheel to top it off. Who cared if the paperwork didn’t check out?

  I was so jazzed I didn’t see Phoenix and Jonas at first.

  They were standing by the side of the road where it splits and the narrow track takes off the back way towards Angel Rock—two figures under a tree, looking like students getting ready to hitch a ride.

  I stopped, leaned over and opened the passenger door.

  Phoenix crouched down, determined not to be impressed by my fancy new mode of transport. “Hey, you.”

  Angel, love of my life, stand there with the sun making a halo round your head and let me drink in every inch of you.

  “Hey. Get in, you two, and let’s take a ride,” was what I actually said.

  He shook his head. “Turn the car off the road. We need to talk.”

  “OK.” Feeling deflated, I drove on to the track then got out of the car. My face was flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry—I’m an airhead.”

  Phoenix’s face broke in to a smile. “You were having fun. I’m sorry we spoiled it. Did my brother give you the car?”

  I nodded. “Now this is what I call being super-nice! What do we need to talk about?” I asked, locking on to Jonas’ grim expression and joining him under the tree. “You know I went to see Zoey?”

  “Late last night,” he nodded. “How is she?”

  I paused. “She’s still having a tough time. Her folks called me over because she was in meltdown. It’s OK, Jonas, I wasn’t mean to her.”

  A truck hurtled down the highway towards Ellerton, quickly followed by a car, so Phoenix drew us round the far side of the tree. “And you, Darina—did Zoey’s mood drag you down?”

  “No, I’m good, thanks. I told her I knew how she felt, lonely and lost, and she said how much she still loves you, Jonas. It helped to share. And she’s remembering more about the crash, so that’s cool.”

  Phoenix put his arm around my shoulder then twisted his finger through the end of my hair. “Did she give you anything new?”

  “Stuff about lying in the road after it happened and finding she couldn’t move. She said you were there, Jonas, still alive and saying sorry.”

  Phoenix held me tighter. “Jonas died at the moment of impact,” he reminded me. “It was his spirit Zoey saw and heard.”

  Then I remembered the sound of beating wings which she’d spoken about, and this made sense, as I ought to have realized sooner. “Anything else?” Jonas asked.

  I shook my head. “Zoey’s mom and dad must have been listening at the door. Mrs. Bishop broke in before I could push Zoey any further down memory lane. She was right—Zoey was exhausted by what she’d already remembered. So, there was nothing solid she could tell me about the moments before the crash.”

  “And then what?” Phoenix asked, reading my face and guessing there was something I still hadn’t told them.

  “Mr Bishop…” I began my answer then stopped with a shrug.

  “He barred you from the house?” Phoenix guessed.

  “Yeah. He doesn’t like me, or anyone from my side of the tracks as a matter of fact.”

  “That’s because your side of the tracks is where he started out,” Jonas told me. “Twenty years ago the guy didn’t have a cent. Then, the way Zoey tells it, he got lucky and married money.”

  Which explained a lot, I guess. “You know your dad also went along to the Bishops’ house?”

  My news surprised even Jonas and Phoenix. “We didn’t track him after he left us,” Phoenix said. “What did he want?”

  “He yelled and swapped insults. I don’t know exactly, except that it made things worse. Now Mr. Bishop wants to shut out the whole world.”

  “And we don’t get any more answers,” Jonas sighed.

  “Right. Not unless I bump into Zoey again this Thursday—at Kim Reiss’ clinic.” I saw one small glimmer of light. “I’ll make sure to do that,” I promised Jonas. “I’ll go early and make time for us to talk one-on-one.”

  Jonas nodded then glanced down the highway. “Car coming,” he reported, before it drove into sight.

  “It’s Logan!” At a glance I knew who it was in the clean white Honda. “What’s he doing out this way?”

  “Following you,” Phoenix guessed again—accurately as it turned out.

  “Go!” I told him and Jonas. “I’ll handle this.”

  When I said “Go!” I meant hide behind the tree or a rock. But no—Phoenix and Jonas did their zombie thing and disappeared. I mean, they de-materialized right there in front of my eyes. One moment they were solid, then they were wavy at the edges and see-through, then they weren’t there at all.

  “Hey, come back!” I cried, as Logan signalled and pulled off the road.

  “Who were you talking to?” he asked as he jumped out of his car.

  “Nobody! Logan, what are you doing here?” I demanded.

  “Checking up on you.” He was totally open, as if he were doing me a favour.

  “How did you know where I was?”

  “I called at your house. Your mom told me about your new car and said you took it on a test drive before school. I promised I’d make sure you got to where you were meant to be—safe behind a desk.”

  “I’m not a kid. You have to quit following me,” I told him angrily. Phoenix and Jonas’ latest trick had thrown me way off balance, and I had the feeling they were still around, listening in on my conversation with Logan. “I’m so starting to feel like you’re a creepy, stalker guy!”

  Logan’s even features wrinkled into a frown. “How can you say that?”

  “Because!” I stepped by him to get into my car, but he caught hold of me.

  “Darina, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m still worried about the way you’re acting. So is your mom. We all are.”

  “I’ve told you before—there’s no need. Let go of my arm, Logan—you’re hurting me.”

  “And I care about you,” he went on in a robotic voice. This was a speech that he’d rehearsed over and over, I could tell. “I care a lot about you, Darina. I want us to be more than friends.”

  “Let me go,” I pleaded after a split second of jaw-dropping astonishment. This time he was really going to kiss me unless I acted fast. “Logan, how can we be whatever it is you want us to be? I’ve known you for ever.”

  “So?” He puckered up and leaned in.

  “We’re like brother and sister!” This was crazy. Logan Lavelle had ideas of true romance and my beautiful Phoenix was hanging around invisibly watching it happen. I snatched at the closest straw. “Anyway, Logan, your timing is lousy. I’m still not over Phoenix.”

  Logan heard the name and stopped. He seemed equally stunned. “You mean, I’m competing with a dead guy?”

  “You’d better believe it. Did you suppose I could just forget him?” I didn’t get Logan anymore. Surely he knew how it felt to lose someone you loved.

  “But he’s gone, Darina. Phoenix is not coming back.”

  “Leave me alone,” I whispered as I pulled away.

  A part of Logan’s brain seemed to register some of what was going on—but not all. He looked sorry for me, paused then spoke again. “OK, Darina, I get it. It’s too soon.”

  “Much too soon,” I said, calmer now, and able to get into the car.

  “So I’ll wait until you’re over him,” he promised, as if time was the biggest gift he could give me. “I’ll wait for as long as it takes.”

  There was a time, before Phoenix, when Logan and I could practically read each other’s thoughts. We went everywhere as a pair, liked the same things, spoke the same language, and I missed that simple, sunshine togetherness of kids sharing. But even if Phoenix had never happened, there was no way I could be Logan’s girl.

  That night, after school, I had time to try and figure it out. I found my scrapbook under a pile of magazines and took out two pictures. One of me and L
ogan at last year’s school prom, him in a tux two sizes too big, staring straight at the camera with a wide grin—red-eye and all—me in a strapless baby blue satin dress with a white orchid corsage, which Logan had given me. I wasn’t smiling effortlessly, like him.

  The other picture was of me and Phoenix, taken in a booth, just head and shoulders. Phoenix struck an ironic pose, cool and beautiful. I had my cropped auburn hair and mascara eyes, and I was laughing.

  End of story. There was Darina-before-Phoenix and Darina-post-Phoenix—two different people, a new chemical mix, a white-hot fusion of hearts and souls.

  And it was impossible to reverse the process, to clear up the misunderstandings and get back the communication I’d once had with Logan.

  All Tuesday and Wednesday I avoided him and his secret, significant glances. As if I didn’t already know it, the anniversary of Jonas’ death was approaching fast and there was talk at school of some kind of memorial procession of Harleys, headed up by Matt Fortune of all people, on a bike provided by his brother, Charlie.

  “We’ll meet in town after school next Tuesday,” Matt explained to a gang, which included Christian and Lucas, but not Logan. “We ride out through Centennial—slowly, at maybe ten miles per hour—and hold the same speed when we reach the Foxton highway. We stop at the exact spot where the crash happened.”

  “Creepy.” Jordan backed out of the group and left the guys to their plans.

  Hannah stuck around with me. “I don’t know—maybe it’s a good thing in a Gothic sort of way,” she muttered.

  “Or totally ghoulish.” I couldn’t decide either, only I found it interesting that Matt was right at the centre of the plan.

  “Cool!” Lucas got behind the idea. “I reckon Jonas will be up there, looking down on us and giving his blessing.”

  I shuddered at the rose-tinted picture of angels floating on fluffy, floaty clouds, probably playing harps and surrounded by sunny peacefulness. No, I wanted to say, it’s not like that. It s dangerous, hard and restless. A million winged souls are fighting to return.

  “Where will you get a bike?” Christian asked Lucas.