Crossed Out

by Kim Baccellia

  At the mention of my mother’s name, Dr. Anthony’s voice grew tense. “Stephanie,” Dr. Anthony said. “Come to the office. You need to tell me everything. And by this I mean no more omissions.”

  “Okay.” I sniffed. “But what about my mother—”

  “We’ll discuss her later. What’s important is getting over here.”

  “How am I supposed to get to your office without them seeing me?”

  “The same way you always get out,” Dr. Anthony said. “I’ll leave the door to the building open.” He hung up.

  Great. I couldn’t take my car. Then an image came to me of my beat-up mountain bike. I’d left it in Mr. Jones’s bushes during my late night date with Mark. I was sure it was still there.

  If not, I was screwed, big time.

  I grabbed a pair of gloves and made my way back to my window.

  No longer did it glow an eerie red and blue. Had the police left? I pulled the curtain aside and saw the empty driveway.

  I let out my breath.

  Well, what was I waiting for? I climbed out of the window and grabbed a branch of the oak tree. Carefully, I climbed down, my heart racing the whole time.

  I had to get Dylan before anything bad happened.

  “Well, let’s get started,” Dr. Anthony said as I rushed into his office. Adrenaline shot through my body like the times I’d guzzled down a couple Red Bulls to help with cram sessions.

  Usually I welcomed the high-energy feeling, but not now. Too much was riding on whether I could get to Dylan before something really bad happened. I didn’t know for a fact something terrible would happen, I just felt it.

  Only a few things had changed in the counselor’s office since my last visit. Some newer books were piled in the far corner of the room and the candy jar was filled to the rim with miniature candy bars. I resisted the urge to open the jar and search for a Hershey Special Dark chocolate bar. Finding Dylan was more important than chocolate.

  And something else bugged me. “Dr. Anthony, what’s with my mother?”

  He swiveled around in his chair and stared at me. “Your Mother? Why are you bringing this up now?”

  I stared back. His right eye twitched. He did know!

  “Jeez, this is all starting to make sense. My mother wanted me to see you. That should have been a clue.” I hit my head with the palm of my hand. “My God, how stupid am I?”

  “Stephanie—”

  “No, wait, don’t answer that.” I glared back at him, daring him to say something. He didn’t. Good.

  “Clue two, my mother gives me the whole guilt thing on making crosses, but she doesn’t destroy them. And clue number three, the whole Mrs. Van Buren episode just a while ago where Dylan’s mother all but accused my mother of withholding information.”

  During my rant, Dr. Anthony sat still.

  “She does know, doesn’t she?” I folded my arms. “Don’t even go off on me about anything when both of you hid something from me.” I sat back, glaring at Dr. Anthony.

  “You done?” he asked. “What would you do if I told you ‘yes’, your mother knew what was happening and only now decided to ask for the council’s help. Would that bring Dylan back sooner?” His dark eyes narrowed. “No.”

  I took a deep breath. How dare he ask me that? I wanted to smack something, anything.

  “Well, excuse me for freaking out over the fact that my mother knew about all this.” I opened my arms wide to emphasize the room, the counselor’s talismans, and the computer which was displaying something else that looked familiar.

  “For all I know she also sees dead people and her so-called sorority makes fancy things to help people go to the other side. Heaven forbid they make anything as common as crosses.”

  Dr. Anthony strummed his fingers under his chin, watching me. “That is for your mother to discuss with you. Right now, we have to concentrate on finding Dylan.” He turned his back to me, and typed on the keyboard.

  I resented being treated like a child. “No, you need to tell me….” Then something flashed on the screen.

  “What’s that?” I pointed to the computer.

  I didn’t wait for Dr. Anthony to respond. Instead I walked over for a better look.

  Light Bringers.

  Large black cursive writing filled the top section of the computer. Bursts of light shot from beneath a cross and a crescent figure that framed the logo. It was the same symbol that was on the office door plaque.

  “Isn’t that the name of your counseling organization?” I asked. “Wait a minute. Are you guys some weird religious cult?”

  “No,” he said. “This is the name others in my organization go under.”

  “Wait a minute.” I bent down to get a better look. “You guys are on the Internet?”

  “Why are you surprised?”

  I shook my head. “Jeez, at least you guys could have come up with a more original name.”

  Dr. Anthony ignored my comment. “I’m only one member out of hundreds. My goal is to help people like you, Stephanie.”

  “You mean people like my mother?” The realization that my mother had been in on all this at the very beginning hit me hard. Why hadn’t she confided in me instead of being so dang preachy?

  But then another thought came. Had I been exactly honest with her?

  “Yes,” Dr. Anthony said, “and people like Dylan’s grandmother too, except she made a terrible mistake. One we feared you’d make.”

  “What are you talking about?” I shrugged my shoulders. “I didn’t tell anyone about helping the dead. I didn’t have any problems either – until lately, but Mark—”

  Oops, too late. I covered my mouth.

  “Yes, exactly.” Dr. Anthony said, matter-of-factly. “The main goal of our group is to drive evil back – evil, which, in this case, might have Dylan. Now tell me about this Mark.” His gaze met mine from under his glasses. “And don’t leave anything out.”

  “But what does this have to do with Dylan?” I didn’t wanna think about Mark right now.

  Dr. Anthony tapped his fingers on the keyboard. His eyebrows lifted, waiting for me to figure out the obvious.

  “Okay, well, he’s really cute but in a bad-boy type of way. And I can’t get him out of my mind – that is when he’s around. But when I’m away there’s stuff about him that’s strange.”

  “That explains a lot,” Dr. Anthony said. “Do you know his whole name?”

  “Uh, Mark Bennion.”

  “Is there anything about him that sticks out as being out of the ordinary?”

  “Well, he did take me to this coffee shop that so isn’t-over-the-’90s. Cura’s mom should go there sometime.”

  Dr. Anthony typed up the name. A picture came up. Or more like an obituary.

  “Oh, my God.” I clutched my chest. “That’s him.”

  But it couldn’t be.

  I bent down close to read:

  Nineteen-Year-Old

  Found dead at Coffee House

  Apparent suicide victim

  Drugs are to blame

  I scanned the article. Apparently the owner of the coffee house had found one of his workers hanging in the basement. Also there was mention of a fiancée, who’d been killed in an attempted robbery at the same place.

  Chills plastered my body. I didn’t know what was worse. Finding out this cute guy at school was dead or that he might be involved in Dylan’s disappearance.

  “How did you find this?” I asked. Did he know about Mark this whole time?

  “Let’s just say we know about him. He’s been busy at this for some time.”

  “Wait a minute here? You knew?” I clenched my fists. “Why didn’t you say anything? My God, you could have stopped whatever it was from taking Dylan!”

  “Stephanie, it doesn’t work that way.” Dr. Anthony sighed. “Trust me, we’re not super-humans here. We didn’t know if Mark was involved but with what you’ve been telling me it only makes sense.”

  “Telling you? I don’t get
it. Enlighten me.”

  “Stephanie, the undead have only one purpose in this life. Think of them as parasites. They only have a short amount of time to stay alive. They need a host to feed off.”

  “Eww. You sure you haven’t been watching too many sci-fi movies? Are you saying he’s feeding off—” I gulped when the gross realization hit “me?”

  “Yes.”

  Yuck. Double yuck. No longer did the memory of his kiss seem, well, so great. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I resisted the urge to hurl. This was just too gross.

  “What do I need to do?”

  Dr. Anthony went back to the computer screen. “They usually stay close to the place where they died, in his case, this coffee house.”

  “How do I drive him back?” Duh. I thumped my head. “A cross, right?”

  “Yes, but not just any cross.” He rose from his chair and limped to that dreaded file cabinet in the far corner of his office. It still gave me creeps, remembering the first time he’d shared what was inside. Opening up the drawer he pulled out a smaller version of the wooden crosses I had made. And it wasn’t made out of wood either. The fluorescent light in the room reflected off the silver metal, making it appear to glow.

  “Okay, you guys are full of clichés.” I went over and carefully touched it. “Are you telling me those dumb vampire stories were right? You have to drive, not a stake – but a cross into their hearts?”

  “Now you have been watching too many movies. You don’t drive a stake into his heart. Instead you need to drive it into the ground in the place where he died. Think of it as a reverse rescue. But you need to have the sunlight hit the cross, which will drive Mark and his kind back to where they belong.”

  “You mean Hell, right?”

  “Where he goes is not our concern, Stephanie. As long as he doesn’t interfere with those who need to go to the other side. Remember that.”

  “Okay, so I’m not God.” I pushed the cross into one of my pockets and walked away. “Let’s help him with his decision and get this over with.”

  “Stephanie, I’m coming with you.” Dr. Anthony turned off his computer.

  “But, why,” I challenged. “I’m the rescuer. And he’s just a dead guy.” I opened the candy jar and grabbed a handful of chocolates and shoved them into my pocket.

  “Don’t underestimate what the undead can do.” Dr. Anthony removed his glasses and wiped them with a cloth then put his glasses back on. “You did think he was one hot guy, right?”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  I shuddered with that memory. Not only was I disgusted, but I was pissed. Pissed he messed with my mind, and pissed he took Dylan too. Mark’s rear was mine.

  “Let’s go,” the counselor said. “Don’t think you can do anything without me. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

  “And you do?”

  Dr. Anthony scratched his left leg. “Let’s just say I have a constant reminder of my last encounter with one of them.”

  Too freaky. Why did things have to happen to legs when dealing with the dead?

  As we left the room, I fingered the cool surface of the cross. The talisman only strengthened my resolve not to sit around – doing nothing.

  No dead guy was going to kiss me and get away with it.

  Chapter 27

  The fog hadn’t tapered off. Thick and ominous, it made the drive to the coffee house difficult.

  I glanced at Dr. Anthony. His round glasses hid his expression. But I could tell he wanted a piece of Mark too. The veins in his hands bulged from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. I almost imagined him strangling Mark.

  I felt uneasy. I’d never seen an angry counselor. Well, I take that back. There was that one time Counselor Carter caught me smoking behind the building. Yeah, he’d been upset, but not enough to kill me. It didn’t help that the cigarette ended up burning a hole in my new pair of designer pants. I swore then and there I would never smoke again.

  “Where’s this coffee house?”

  I jumped at Dr. Anthony’s question.

  “Over there.” I pointed to some older buildings beside the mall. “It’s one of those smaller places on the left.”

  Dr. Anthony turned into the left lane, making his way to a few sorry-looking shops hidden behind some tall California live oaks.

  “What’s the name?” he asked.

  “Uh.” I frowned. “It’s over there.” I leaned close to the window, hiding my embarrassment. “You can’t miss it. It’s some ancient place with posters of some old ’90s pop groups plastered on the sides.”

  “Is that it?” He gestured to one of the smaller places.

  “Uh … maybe.”

  I hated that I couldn’t remember the stupid name. I mean, my constant obsession over Mark couldn’t be the reason for having this major brain fart. Or could it?

  Dr. Anthony parked the car. “Let’s find out.”

  I hurried out and slammed the door. As I made my way to the building, the hairs on the back of my neck rose.

  “Yeah, this is the place.” Ancient was a good way to describe the broken-down building standing in front of me. I recognized one of the pop posters, though only a fourth of it remained intact. “Let’s put that cowardly piece of crap back where he belongs.”

  “You have the cross?” Dr. Anthony asked. He got out and opened the trunk of his car.

  “Whoa, time out. What are you doing?”

  He brought out a black plastic bag. It reminded me of that sack back at his office. At the time I’d had a field day imagining gruesome things hidden inside. Sure, it had only been a cross, but for some reason I knew that wasn’t what he had in it now. Considering I had the talisman.

  “Let’s just say I like to be prepared.” He slammed his trunk shut. “Trust me. This will come in handy for the battle ahead.”

  “Battle?” Now I felt sick. “How hard can it be to rescue Dylan? I mean, don’t you say some mumbo jumbo stuff over Mark and poof, he’s gone?”

  “Stephanie, this isn’t Hollywood.” I noticed a bulge in the bag. And he held it as if it were heavy.

  You don’t have like a weapon in there, do you?”

  Dr. Anthony smiled, but his gaze was like granite, hard and flinty. “Let me worry about that.”

  “You sure don’t act like any shrink I know.” I moved away. “Who are you Light Bringers, anyway?”

  Dr. Anthony shrugged. “I’m here to help you, and drive the evil back to where it belongs.” He motioned to the door. “And we don’t have time to stand around and talk about this.”

  “Okay, whatever,” I said. “But after this I’m getting my mother to tell me more about her so-called sorority group.”

  Dr. Anthony slung the bag over his shoulder. He looked back at me. “Tell you what, when this is done, I’ll call your mother in for a meeting. Then we can go over everything.”

  Should I trust him?

  Staring into his eyes, I couldn’t help but feel that he was telling the truth.

  Yes – and it scared the crap out of me. But he was right. We needed to find Dylan. Later we could go over everything else.

  With that, I followed Dr. Anthony to the coffee house.

  Broken windows and old trash covered the walkway. The counselor kicked aside some of the debris and opened the door. “Let’s go.”

  A draft blew some old copies of the Sacramento Bee against me. I flung them aside and followed him.

  Once inside, I noticed the black and white floor was peppered with broken tiles and what looked like rat droppings. Spider webs hung like thick silly string from the ceiling. A small spiral staircase was tucked away in the far corner.

  “Over there,” I said, motioning to the stairs. “Mark took me upstairs to a room.”

  A thick layer of dirt clung to each step.

  “Good,” Dr. Anthony said. “Now we can catch the rat in his own hole.”

  No, Steph, I’m here!

  I gasped. Dylan? Is that you?

 
In my mind I saw Dylan again, but not upstairs. I pictured him in a cramped room with one window.

  I turned and noticed a small door to the side.

  “No.” I motioned to the door. “I think he’s down there, in the basement.”

  Dr. Anthony hoisted his bag over his shoulder. “Stephanie, don’t go down there.”

  “Since when are you my keeper?” I retorted. “I know he’s down there and I’m going.”

  I didn’t wait to hear his reply. Opening the door, I braced myself for what might be downstairs.

  As I went down the stairs, a familiar scent filled my nose. It was woodsy, with the sharp tang of cigarettes. I could feel Mark’s presence, as if his lips were only inches away from my own.

  I turned, almost expecting him there. But I only saw shadows. I pulled my hoodie tighter.

  Down I went. I held onto the side – careful not to brush against any spider webs. My skin crawled just thinking about bugs. Dampness permeated from the wall and chilled me.

  I saw someone in a chair at the bottom.

  “Dylan!”

  I rushed down and threw my arms around him. He’s alive! I pulled away. A disgusting smell rose around him. I looked down and saw he’d been sick. But I didn’t care. All that mattered was he was here.

  “Took you long enough,” Dylan said, a lopsided grin on his battered face.

  “Omigosh, Dylan. What happened to you?”

  “Can you untie me?”

  I broke my gaze away. “Oh, right.”

  Thump.

  I jumped and whirled toward the sound.

  “Hurry,” Dylan said, “we need to get out of here. Now.”

  “What do you think I’m doing?” Whoever tied him up had done a good job. I cursed myself for cutting my nails. The plastic cords refused to come undone.

  Thump. “Don’t you know how to knock?”

  Mark appeared out of the shadows, wearing the same outfit he’d worn a few hours ago.

  “Can’t get enough of me, Steph?”

  Chapter 28

  The temperature in the basement dropped. I tugged at the plastic cords caked with blood from Dylan’s wrists. My hands shook but I refused to give up.