by Edie Claire
“Sure. Whatever,” I said quickly. “I understand. No problem.”
Can I crawl under the bed and die now?
“I thought you lived in Oahu,” he said, his voice strangely flat.
I tried to paint a smile back on my face, but failed. I couldn’t look at him. He wasn’t coming home with me. He didn’t want to. “No,” I responded, fighting another eruption of accursed tears. I had never been so crazy emotional in my life — I had to get a grip on myself. “I was only there for spring break. We live in Cheyenne, Wyoming. My dad’s—”
“But,” Zane broke in, “Weren’t you talking about plans for Oahu? About seeing me again there?”
My gaze lifted. His expression was troubled. He was trying to prop himself more upright, but his arms were trembling from the strain.
“Were you just trying to humor me?” he continued. “About doing it all again?”
“Of course not!” Hope flickered within me, even as my stomach churned to realize how physically weak the accident had left him. “I meant every word of it. We’re moving to Oahu in June — I was just about to say that.”
Zane fell back against his pillows. He looked weak and exhausted. How could I expect anything else? The guy had only just come out of a coma. Before that, he had nearly bled to death.
I waited a long moment, hoping that he would explain what had gotten him so upset, but he said nothing. He just lay still and closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I’ve been here too long.” And I’ve expected too much. “I guess I’d better go, and… let you rest for a while.”
I started to move toward the door.
“Kali, wait,” Zane said firmly, even as his voice seemed weaker. “Come back for a second.”
My heart thudded against my ribcage. Was this the end? The last time I would see him?
I went to stand beside the bed. His complexion was frighteningly pale, but the flicker of humor I knew and loved so well still shone from behind his drooping lids. He seemed to want to stay awake and talk, but he was having to fight to make it happen.
“I want to see you again,” he said finally, his eyes holding mine. “If I promised to teach you how to swim, then dammit, I’m going to do it. I don’t know when, but it’s going to happen. If you’re in Oahu, I’ll find you. Just as soon as I’m…. more myself. Okay?”
His eyes twinkled into mine, and I felt as if the clouds had parted and the sun had begun to shine. “I’m absolutely holding you to that,” I said with a gulp. “But I’m telling you, the bikini thing isn’t happening.”
He smirked. “We’ll see.” His eyelids fluttered. It was obvious that he could barely keep them open.
“I should go,” I said softly.
“Leave your number,” he ordered, even as his eyes closed. “Write everything down for me. And don’t let—” his words began to slur.
He gave his head a shake, his eyes fluttered open for another second. “No letting anyone else teach you how to swim before I get there. Promise?”
I grinned. “That’s not too likely. Many have tried; all have failed. But yes, I promise. I’ll write everything down for you.”
His eyes closed again, and this time they stayed shut. After a few seconds, his head listed to the side. He was asleep.
I reached out a hand and ran it gently down the cheekbone of his beautiful face, entwining my fingers in a ringlet of his newly washed, golden brown hair. There was hope, still. He might not want to come to Cheyenne, but he did want to see me again.
Just a few months from now. In Oahu.
We were going swimming.
Chapter 3
I took a sip of diet root beer. The glass had been sitting on Kylee’s nightstand for about four hours, and it was lukewarm and flat. But I needed to soothe my throat. I’d been talking all night; I was so hoarse I could hardly understand myself.
“What happened the next time you saw him?” Kylee asked, her dark eyes sparkling. My perky, always energetic friend had already lost one night’s sleep when she had met my plane from Honolulu in the middle of the night two days ago — now she was losing another one. But she showed no fatigue. Just her usual, all-consuming curiosity.
I hadn’t been back in Cheyenne for an hour before she and Tara had arrived together on my doorstep sporting a shopping bag filled with microwave popcorn, a bag of chips, a giant tub of French onion dip, and a half gallon of black-cherry ice cream… my favorite.
“Mandatory sleepover,” Tara had announced without humor. “Pack a bag and get in the car.”
The hours since ran together in my mind. It was late now. So late, it was probably morning. But when I had called my best friends in a total panic, asking them to help me find a guy I couldn’t possibly have ever met, they had not done the sensible thing and dismissed me as delusional — they had jumped into action. Tara the bloodhound had gone online and tracked down Zane’s location with almost nothing to go on, and Kylee had made sure I got there in time. The least I owed them now was an explanation. And that’s what I’d been giving them. All night long.
“That was the last time I saw him,” I said in answer to Kylee’s question, the latest of about a hundred. “I was going to go back a couple hours later, after he had some time to rest. But before I could get there I got a call from Craig Woods, the lawyer from California. He’d flown out to Nebraska and was with Zane there in his room. He said that Zane asked him to call me and explain that his medical transport had been all arranged and that they would be leaving soon. Craig said that Zane would have called himself, but his throat was in bad shape and the doctor wouldn’t let him talk for a while. Zane wanted to tell me that he would see me in Oahu.”
My friends were silent for a moment. “So…” Tara began finally, then stopped. Her large blue eyes were bloodshot; her voice tense. She hadn’t said much since I’d told them both about the shadows. I had kept my freakishness a secret from them the same as everyone else, but there was no way to explain about Zane now without telling them the whole truth. And besides, for some strange reason, I kind of wanted to. I had always shared everything else with them; if I was going to finally be honest with my parents, it seemed only right that they should know, too.
Kylee, predictably, took all the creepy stuff in stride and moved right on to wanting to know anything and everything about my relationship with Zane. But Tara’s reaction — which was no reaction — concerned me. Kylee lived half her life in a fantasy world anyway, but Tara was the daughter of two no-nonsense cops. She liked her world to be logical, orderly, and free of weirdball crap like ghosts and shadows. “So, you didn’t even try to see him again?” Kylee finished.
“How could I?” I answered, the disappointment of that moment still smarting. “He pretty much told me not to come back.”
“That sucks,” Kylee sympathized. “You sure the lawyer was telling the truth?”
I shrugged. “Why wouldn’t he?” Zane wanted to go with him; I know that. I just wish he hadn’t been in such a hurry.”
“You can’t blame him for wanting out of a nursing home full of old people,” Tara said reasonably, pulling the band off her long blond ponytail, then putting it back in again. “He took charge and found a quick solution — you’ve got to respect that.”
“That’s true,” I agreed, studying her. Tara never, ever wore her hair down. Readjusting the band was a nervous habit. She’d been doing it every five minutes all night.
“Tar?” I asked tentatively. “You haven’t said much about… you know. My seeing the shadows.”
Her troubled eyes met mine only briefly. “What can I say? I mean, it is what it is, right?”
“She needs to know that you believe her,” Kylee said, her dark eyes blazing.
I felt suddenly uncomfortable. I appreciated Kylee’s unqualified support more than I could say, and her and Tara’s bickering was a constant of the universe, but I hated it when they argued about me.
“Of course I believe her!” Tara defended hotly.
Then she turned back to me. “Look, Kal — if you say you see dead people, I believe you see dead people. You’re not the kind of person to make up something like that.” She shot an accusatory glance at Kylee. “But I am allowed to freak out about it. You know I’ve never believed in ghosts.”
“What she sees are not ‘ghosts.’” Kylee corrected. “Ghosts are the souls of people who’ve died but haven’t moved on yet, or ones who have moved on but then come back again for some special purpose. Zane was never a ghost because he never actually died. The other things she sees aren’t ghosts either.”
Tara raised an eyebrow at her. “And you would know this how?”
Kylee stiffened uncomfortably for a moment, then lifted her chin with a determined gesture. “I know things because my ba noi is an expert on this stuff. Seriously. She reads the books, she talks to people… she just knows. It’s always been a thing with her. And I’ve—” she broke off. “I think it’s pretty cool, too.”
Neither Tara nor I needed to ask who Kylee’s ba noi was; we knew she was referring to her Vietnamese grandmother. Kylee had always been close to her paternal grandparents, even though they had long since disowned her deadbeat father, who had abandoned Kylee’s mother when she was pregnant.
“Well,” I asked nervously. “What is it you think I do see?”
Kylee’s forehead creased with thought. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “In Zane’s case, I’d say his spirit was wandering from his body, but it didn’t separate completely, because he was still alive. I think the term for that is a wraith — a spirit that’s hovering, not knowing which way to go, because the body is very near death but the outcome still isn’t sure. But these other things… these shadows of historical people… I’ve never heard of that before.”
I had to laugh. “Fabulous. Even people who actually believe in this stuff think I’m weird!”
“Don’t say that,” Kylee soothed. “Just because I haven’t heard of it doesn’t mean nobody has. I bet my ba noi would know.”
“Do you see shadows now?” Tara broke in gruffly. “I mean, like right here in Kylee’s room?”
I looked around. Kylee’s bedroom was small, barely big enough for her twin bed and two sleeping bags on the floor. I didn’t see anything except the two of them. “No,” I answered, “at least, not now. I see them over and over in the same place, but they’re not there all the time. It’s like watching a video that loops, but with more downtime than playtime. Does that make any sense?”
“Sure,” Kylee said with enthusiasm. “Have you seen any in my room other times?”
“I can’t remember any,” I answered.
She frowned with disappointment.
“If it makes you feel better,” I added with a grin, “whenever we used to go water sliding on the slope in your backyard, I’d see a really old, faint shadow of a Native American boy jumping up on a horse.”
Kylee’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”
I nodded. My eyes turned toward Tara. She was staring blankly back at me. Should I, or shouldn’t I?
What the heck? It did feel good to come clean after all these years. “One of my favorites is in your driveway,” I told her. “Right by the basketball goal. It’s a teenaged girl with one really long braid down her back. She’s wearing a long skirt, but it’s not fancy; all her clothes are pretty ragged looking, and she’s barefoot. She’s falling from somewhere or something up high — I’ve never been able to tell what. And this guy catches her, right before she hits the ground. He’s wearing these shapeless trousers and a tattered shirt, and he has this bizarre floppy hat on. I’ve never even seen a picture of one like it — I swear I think he sewed it together himself! But anyway, every time he catches her, she looks up at him and she just beams… it’s so obvious she’s in love with him! And when he looks at her, he has the oddest expression on his face. Like he can’t believe she’s looking at him like that, but it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. But at the same time, I can feel his fear, too. Like he was afraid he wouldn’t catch her!”
I stopped only because I had run out of breath. My cheeks were flushed. Talking about the shadows had always seemed so risky and personally exposing that doing it for the first time with Zane had felt like parading around school in my underwear. Yet here I was, babbling on… and I didn’t ordinarily babble, about anything. What had gotten into me?
I looked anxiously at my friends. Kylee’s eyes were wide, her mouth open slightly. Tara stared back at me with an expression that was unreadably blank. Almost like she was in shock.
“Sorry,” I said weakly. “Too much information?”
They both stared at me another moment. “No way!” Kylee said finally, her face lighting up. “That is so totally freakin’ cool I can’t stand it!”
I smiled back at her, then turned to Tara. Her expression was still completely blank. She sat unmoving for a good five seconds. Then she gave her head a shake and looked around the room. “Is there any more dip?”
Kylee and I exchanged a glance. “No,” Kylee answered. “We finished it off hours ago.”
“Oh, right,” Tara responded, not looking at either of us. She smoothed out her sleeping bag, plumped up her pillow, and laid down. “Sorry, guys, but I’ve got to crash. It’s been a long day.” She pulled a sheet over herself, then buried her head in her pillow facing away from us.
I opened my mouth to say something, but was stopped by Kylee’s hand on my arm. She shook her head, her dark eyes sending me a silent message. Not now. Give her time.
I decided to take her advice. I’d only lived in Cheyenne a few years, but Kylee and Tara — despite their very different personalities — had been best friends since elementary school. I suppose that was why they fought so much. They felt like sisters.
“Yeah,” I agreed, my voice sounding almost as hoarse as Zane’s had. “I’m pretty tired, too.” I stretched out on my own bag, and Kylee crawled into her bed. “Goodnight,” I offered.
“Night,” she returned.
“Samesies,” Tara mumbled.
I grinned hopefully. “Samesies” was one of Kylee’s favorite made-up words, the kind of cutesy nonsense that Tara ordinarily rolled her eyes at.
She would be all right with it. With me.
Eventually.
Chapter 4
“I don’t know what you’re so nervous about,” Kylee said brightly, practically shoving me up the steps toward the back door of her house. “You’ve met my ba noi like what — three times already? Chillax!”
“That was different,” I insisted. “Then I was just some random friend of yours, not a freak of nature.”
“Will you stop with that?” Kylee chastised. “I haven’t told her anything about you yet — you can do that yourself. Besides which, what makes you think you’re so special? My ba noi’s dealt with some seriously weird people in her lifetime, believe me. It’s like she attracts them. You and your shadows are not going to shock her.”
I reached the door, but refused to open it.
“Kali,” she said with a groan. “Just what are you afraid of? My ba noi is not some creepy third-world medicine woman who’s going to exorcise you with a bloody rooster — she’s from San Jose! She’s lived there since the seventies, and aside from being into supernatural stuff, she’s a perfectly normal person!”
I had a strong urge to crawl behind the nearby air-conditioning unit. “I know,” I apologized lamely. “I’m sorry. I’m just nervous about anybody else knowing.”
The flash of heat in Kylee’s eyes cooled. She knew my freak-out had nothing to do with her grandmother’s ethnicity. With me being one-quarter Hawaiian and Kylee being half Vietnamese, we’d always considered ourselves in the same multiracial boat. The only difference was that while her beautifully toned skin, hair, and eyes were unmistakably Asian, I didn’t look Hawaiian. My hair was dark and curly and my skin was a tad darker than average, but my gray eyes and long “Roman” nose made me look more like the Greeks on my mother’s side. �
��I guess what I’m really afraid of is…”
Kylee waited patiently.
“I’m afraid she really will know what’s wrong with me,” I admitted with a croak. “And I’m not sure I’m ready to hear it.”
Kylee reached out and gave me a quick hug. “Sure you are,” she said lightly. “And you can’t put it off anymore. She’s going back home tomorrow. Now get your wussy butt in there.” She reached around me, opened the door, and shoved my wussy butt inside.
Twenty minutes later, I found myself sitting in a lawn chair on Kylee’s deck, sipping a tall glass of salty limeade, her grandmother’s specialty. “It’s so much better when you make it,” Kylee said with a sigh as she drained her drink. “When I try, it’s just gross.”
“You have to start with good limes,” her grandmother responded, enjoying her own drink in the unusually warm spring sunshine. “Besides which, everything always tastes better when you’re not the one doing the work.” She threw a friendly grin at me, further wrinkling her wizened face.
I smiled back nervously. I had always liked Kylee’s grandmother, but I was also a little intimidated by her. Joan Dong was a small woman in stature, but the twinkle in her dark eyes showed wicked intelligence and a spirit as tough as nails.
“Kylee says you have something to ask me,” she suggested. “I’m assuming about something other than limeade. Well, don’t be shy. Whatever it is, I’ve probably heard it before.”
I hesitated. Why was this so terribly, bone-chillingly difficult? Didn’t I want to know the truth about myself? Wouldn’t it help to understand? Or would everyone be better off if I just stopped talking about it and went to back to ignoring the shadows and pretending to live a normal life?
Pretending. That was the key. I could either deal with it, or I could pretend. Forever.
“I see dead people,” I blurted, before I could lose my nerve. “Lots of them, all the time.”
Kylee’s grandmother didn’t blink. She cocked her head slightly to the side. “How do you know they’re dead?”
