This was more than Keith had admitted to a few days ago. I guess he hadn’t wanted me to think he was losing his mind. The part about not forcing it had to be key, but since he already had told that to Jessica she knew she had to relax.
Unless she forgot his advice.
Or unless she didn’t want to leave Hannah.
* * *
Dr. Winston held the door and let me enter Jessica’s room first. It was still dim, but he flicked on the main lights, which, I noticed, made Jessica’s body react.
The doctor checked her vitals, opened her eyelids, and squeezed her cheeks and her hands, then her toes. She lay there all vulnerable, helpless, and weak. I couldn’t imagine a more defenseless position.
“Hello, Jessica,” the doctor spoke slightly louder than a whisper. “Time to wake up.” He turned to me and whispered that there was no reason she couldn’t awake right then. My heart jumped. Then leaning closer to her he said, “Where are you, Jessica?”
“Stony Park,” I mumbled.
Jessica
Tuesday evening
When I realize what Hannah is really doing I’m half relieved and half angry.
First of all, I am stuck in a dark memory from a dozen years ago. Despite the fact that it’s Hannah’s childhood I hear Tyler’s voice, “Jessica. Wake up.” I resist until he says, “You’re only dreaming that you’re with Michael.” Then I get mad. I am not dreaming. I am only seconds away from fulfilling my greatest desire.
“Hannah is with him. Not you.” Tyler’s voice is insistent. I feel his fingers making little curly Q’s on the back of my hand. It’s kind of pleasant. “Wake up. Come on,” he says. His voice is like the most soothing music to my soul.
But I stand firm. No.
Hannah! Let me back.
I break through and find myself perched on her shoulder like an angel. I can see Michael but not straight from her eyes, sort of off center. I’m not out completely. I’m relieved to see that the awful images she’s bombarded me with are not her true intentions. They are in the middle of breaking up. I’m half-relieved, half-mad. Will there be a break-up kiss? I doubt it.
Michael is saying some mean things, but all I hear are words in my head spoken in Tyler’s smooth voice: “Come on. Wake up. I wanted to ask you to Homecoming, you know?”
“Homecoming!” I shout and it comes out in Hannah’s voice, scratchy.
“What about it?” Michael growls. “You can go by yourself. We’re done.”
Both of us girls think about the beautiful blue dress. I hear Tyler’s voice echo something about a movie. I feel a pressure on my hand. My head swirls and I squeeze back whoever is holding my hand. Whoever? I know it’s Tyler. One squeeze. I want to be there, not here.
The car starts and I watch them drive away.
No kiss.
But I am free.
Hannah
Tuesday evening
I was free of Jessica. Finally! I could no longer hear her. That oppressive grip she had on me was not in my head. My arms were lighter. My lungs could fill with a lighter breath than a moment ago. She was nowhere in my head. But as soon as Michael started the car, I saw her standing in the glare of the headlights. I gasped as if I’d seen a ghost. Well, yeah, I guess I had. Michael was looking out the back window as he guided the car in reverse. I looked at him, watched as he glanced forward. No reaction. He couldn’t see her.
I didn’t mean to start crying. Something good was gone. Optimism. Innocence. Modesty. Jessica’s buoyant self-confidence had filled me with a delicate hope. I missed it. I missed her.
“What’s your problem?” Michael snarled.
I ignored him. I was lucky he was driving me home. It wouldn’t be out of character for him to make me walk. Something else I hid from Jessica. If she only knew what a jerk he can be.
I wiped at my tears and cursed.
* * *
I didn’t care that Michael dropped me off without a word and drove off like a demon. Our break-up was not a sure thing. We’d had half a dozen mini-breakups this fall. Nobody broke up for good this close to Homecoming—expensive blue dress bought and tux ordered. We’d get back together. Probably tomorrow morning. A couple of days from now we’d be the front runners for king and queen. And no Jessica to share the thrill with.
Was she really gone? Not simply hiding in my gut? My head ached. The pressure was vague but steady. I closed the door to my bedroom and started to call Rashanda. I knew her number. Wait. Why did I want to call her?
Because Jessica was out. She would want to know that.
But why was it my responsibility to tell Rashanda? She wasn’t my best friend.
An echo of conscience revealed the answer before I could completely suppress the little voice, not Jessica’s, that was sighing in my head.
What a selfish do-gooder. She’d invaded me and left behind her stupid morals.
I did not push the last two numbers. Rashanda could figure it out on her own. I was back to being myself. I had my own values and I was not going to change.
Besides, those other feelings were fading.
And my headache was worse. Maybe I imagined all of this. Some sort of post trauma thing.
Jessica
Tuesday evening
I take five steps down the lane before I wish I was somewhere that wasn’t so dark. Or so cold. I hadn’t paid any attention to my own body while I was in Hannah, wearing her clothes and shoes and coat. But I’m barefoot again and wearing a thin hospital gown. And shivering.
And hearing voices.
“Hello, Jessica,” a new, deep voice sounds loud in my right ear. “Time to wake up.” Oh, how I wish. “Where are you, Jessica?” I wonder for half a second if that’s God’s voice then realize that God would know where I am. Whose voice is it? A doctor?
That has to be it. A warm breath of air washes over my ear and I wait for the next words. I hope I can obey if he asks me to open my eyes or squeeze his hand or wiggle my toes.
My heart stops when I hear a softer voice say “Stony Park.” Who knows that I’m here? A fraction of a thrill races through me as I imagine that I’m overhearing a conversation between an angel and God.
Then the second voice amplifies and I recognize the speaker as he says, “She’s with a guy named Michael. Hannah’s boyfriend. Crap. I left them there.” I know for sure that isn’t God’s voice, and I smile.
A pine twig cracks under my foot as I manage a few more steps forward. So dark and cold. I picture the accident site, the furry teddy bears piled high by the road, the street light shining down.
And in an instant I’m there.
Tyler’s voice is still faint, but clear. “Do you think she hears you, Dr. Winston?”
“I hear you!” I shout as I look around at the evening traffic, the glow of store lights, two pieces of litter blowing away. “I hear you both!”
The doctor’s voice seems to answer, “Well, look at that. A spike in that reading every time you speak. Say something else.”
“Oh, crap. Wake up, Jessica!”
I am too cold. My teeth chatter. I stomp my feet. The pile of teddy bears looks so warm and inviting. I squirm down into the center of the shrine, but find no heat. I tip my head back and study the black October sky.
I’m in exactly the same spot as last Friday night. Before I saw Hannah in her friend’s car. Before I willed myself into the back seat. Before I leaned into the back of Hannah’s head. No way am I going to do anything like that ever again. Lesson learned.
And I’m in exactly the same spot as the accident last Thursday. The accident.
“I can’t wake up, Tyler!”
And I can’t get warm. Maybe I’m dying for real. After all, it’s late at night and apparently there’s a doctor at my bedside. Are my parents there? I don’t hear them. Just Tyler. Why is he there?
Hot tears start to stream from my eyes. They track from the outer corners back toward my ears. They don’t signal sadness or pain. I don’t feel desperate. It’s pure
grief. But what am I mourning? A certainty wells up: I am mourning my own death. I won’t die in a fiery plane crash, my irrational fear. Instead I will die slowly, quietly, inch by inch.
I need to get warm. For sure. I can’t stay here and feel sorry for myself. I need to move. I need to get to the hospital. Suddenly my right hand sizzles with heat, my fingers tight in the grasp of someone’s hand.
The voices are softer whispers. I hear “No, not tonight, I guess” and “Crap, but she’s closer, right?” The eerie conversation fades in and out and I manage to get the gist of it. They’re giving up on me. Again.
The doctor’s voice grows distant. Stops. But Tyler’s whispered pleas continue. I want to answer him. I want to move, return the squeeze, wake up. I try to will myself to the hospital. Home. School. Anywhere warm.
Nothing.
I listen to a dozen more sweet appeals and then he leaves, too.
* * *
The traffic dwindles to an occasional car or two. This night is the very longest of my life. I have time to think my own thoughts. Analyze. Prepare. Worry. Suspect. Change my mind.
Change my mind about a lot of things. And people.
Rashanda
Wednesday morning
I waited for Tyler outside of the school’s entrance. I couldn’t wait to tell him how cool it had been to swim with Jessica even though it was really Hannah. Cool and weird and creepy and scary. I felt like we were cheating and taking advantage of Coach Harris. Sharks instead of dolphins.
I went to bed last night a lot less afraid of what might happen to Jessica. The whole swimming thing made me calm. I was super curious as to what Tyler had found out from the doctor. I hoped he would have at least texted me, but some guys are, well, they’re guys.
“Hey!” I said as soon as he reached the first step. “What’d you find out? Did the doctor believe you? Does this happen a lot?”
Tyler gave me a slow, indulgent smile. He was the most patient guy I knew. And serene, but a touch sad.
“She didn’t wake up. And, yeah, he believed me. He wants us to bring Hannah to the hospital today. Thing is, it has to be during our lunch hour.”
I gasped. That would be impossible unless he had some form of transportation at his disposal today. “How?” I asked. “Whose car?” I wasn’t even worrying about skipping one or two classes.
“I don’t know. You live close. Is your car available?” He opened the door for me and followed me in.
Skipping class was one thing, but skipping and taking the car without permission was unthinkable. “No, sorry.”
We entered the senior hallway and Tyler nudged me and jerked his head toward a couple who were burrito’d together in a public display of nauseating affection.
Michael and Hannah.
Oh, brother! I looked away fast and bumped into Tyler. His jaw was clenched and his face was beginning to redden. “Sorry, again,” I said and as soon as we were past them I whispered what we were both hoping, “Maybe Jessica’s not in her anymore, or at least maybe she’s buried down deep.”
The miserable expression on his face was heartrending.
“I can sense she’s here.”
“No, really. Hannah keeps her pushed down. She only let Jessica up yesterday to swim at practice.”
Tyler’s eyes raised and his color returned to normal. “I didn’t feel her at the sports wing yesterday. But she was there?”
“Uh huh. But not at first. It was so odd,” I said. We turned and headed for the library. “One second it was Hannah and the next second there was a transformation like you wouldn’t believe. Like magic.” I lowered my voice as a couple of girls, Kayla and Laura, came near and then passed. “Poof, it was Jessica with blonde hair.”
We had a good fifteen minutes before first hour so we ducked into the library and headed for a study carrel in the back corner. Tyler pulled out my chair and I almost fell into it because of what he said next.
“We have to borrow Michael’s car.”
“What?” I pushed some curls out of my eyes and stared at Tyler. “Steal Michael Hoffman’s car? How do you propose we do that?”
“You have to talk to Jessica. Sometime this morning. It was pretty obvious that, uh, that she’s in control.”
“You mean because she was kissing Michael like a maniac? No way, not a chance. That was Hannah, not Jessica. I know my best friend and she would never act like that, especially not in public.”
“But she’s disguised. As Hannah.”
Well, yeah, that was true. I didn’t want to admit it though and I didn’t want to make Tyler hurt more. I kept shaking my head. “I don’t think so. But I’ll try to talk to her between second and third hour. I know where Hannah will be then, that is, if Jessica is in control.”
Tyler nodded. “Dr. Winston thinks that Jessica could wake up at any time now.”
“And just pop out of Hannah?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. If she doesn’t pop out and return to her body she could wake up a vegetable. He said it was imperative that she return to her body before they take her off the breathing tube, which is tomorrow afternoon.”
“So that’s why he wants us to bring Hannah in before then?”
“Right. Last night Jessica sort of responded to my voice. She can hear me. Dr. Winston agreed with me that she’s split and if we can get Hannah to let go of her it’ll be easier for her to return to her body.”
“He thinks Hannah is holding her? I don’t believe it. Jessica wants to stay. If anything, she’s the one who won’t let go.”
Tyler was quiet for a bit. I looked around the library and caught a glimpse of Amy Harper. Poor thing. If anyone was split in two it was her. I turned back to Tyler and asked, “So, about Michael’s car . . . do you want me to tell Jessica to ask him for the keys?”
He shook his head. “I saw the keys on his locker shelf. It’d be better if she just took them.”
I thought about it. I supposed that if she was in control she might do it. I could tell her that it was for Hannah’s good as well as her own. That was true. I knew she’d listen to me. But if Hannah was in control, well, that was another story. I’d have to think some more about what I could say to convince her to skip school, steal her boyfriend’s car, and take me and Tyler to the hospital.
“It shouldn’t be a big deal for her,” Tyler interrupted my thoughts. “I’ve seen her drive her boyfriend’s car before. Like to away games. Do you think we can convince one of them to do it?”
I thought about the time I sat in the back seat of that car with Hannah and Brittany. Michael and Andrew were in the front. Michael was driving and then he let Brittany and Andrew off and drove on towards my house. Only he took the back entrance into Stony Park and then we stopped for a body in the road and then we were abducted and then Hannah was taken away and then . . .
What a set-up that had been! Hannah was in on it! She owed me. I had no doubt that I could convince her to do pretty much anything. And of course I could persuade Jessica, too.
“Yup,” I said, my eyes following Amy’s bent figure as she left the library. “Absolutely.”
Jessica
Wednesday morning
I count the kids that slow to look at my pathetic tomb on their way to school. Even in the dark morning I can see their faces. Michael drives by, but doesn’t even glance over.
My shivering has stopped. Crisis averted I guess. I check my gown for blood. It’s fine.
I might as well walk to the hospital. My school is on the way; maybe I’ll drop in. A beat up Chevy pulls over and the driver, Amy Harper, throws a baseball sized pumpkin into the mix of flowers and junk. It rolls to my feet. Really? A pumpkin? This awful roadside accident site is slowly morphing into a Halloween scene.
I look at the car again and see Amy’s other self seated next to her. Without a thought I mesh through the door into the back seat and ride to school with her.
Amy’s grungy style looks less severe. The masking makeup that hides her cuteness
isn’t quite so thick. The spirit side of her holds more interest for me though. That Amy seems even more forlorn. The pretty girl I’d talked to before, so despondent then, seems even more wretched now. And thinner. Not thinner like skinny—thinner like transparent.
Her spirit self looks back at me once then ignores my questions. She either refuses to hear me, or is too weak to answer. So I stop with the questions and all the way to school I pour out a hundred things, conclusions I had come to during my lonely night. Encouragements, cheer, optimism. If Rashanda were here she would say I was in good spirits and then we would both laugh at the pun.
Amy parks and drags her spirit self behind her into the school. I wonder if I should follow and help her through her day. Strange that I have all this compassion for someone I hardly know. Maybe I’m not such a bad person.
I follow her through the double doors and stop cold when I see Hannah at Michael’s locker. She has her arms draped around his neck and they’re whispering to each other. I forget about Amy and walk closer to them. I glare at Michael. After my night of deep contemplation I see him more clearly than ever. I do not like who I see. I could have stood between them and been right there for the kiss she planted on him, but no—yuck. It surprises me that I do not want to have anything to do with either of them.
They mangle themselves together closer. Disgusting. I turn and spy my best friend coming in with Tyler.
Tyler. Wow, I see him more clearly, too.
There’s an aura around him. Kind of shaped like him, too, but not separate or as vivid as Amy’s spirit self.
Tyler nudges Rashanda and stares at Michael and Hannah. Tyler’s aura darkens, tightens somehow, and I tremble as they pass.
* * *
A Soul's Kiss Page 18
