And then, after that, nothing. Not even static.
Behind the gas-station register, a laminated neighborhood map caught my eye. “Over half a million people call Seattle home,” its cover boasted. I pulled it off the rack and plunked down my last ten bucks.
“Which one of these is the alternative neighborhood?” I asked the cashier. “Like, where would you see tats and piercings?”
She rolled her eyes. I wish these kids would run along so I could study. “Try Capitol Hill,” she said aloud.
“Thank you.”
“Or the U District,” she added. “Maybe even Ballard and West Seattle.”
I stared at the map, disheartened. I’d been expecting to comb one little neighborhood. The four districts she named looked enormous, each practically a town in its own right. For Jamie’s sake, at least, I tried to think positive, but the universe had suddenly grown big and cold again. Icka was a speck of dust hidden in the Milky Way; we’d never find her. It was hopeless.
Outside, I listlessly took over pumping gas while beside me Jamie used my phone to call his brother. Our original plan to sneak the Benmobile back before daylight was shot, so we were at the mercy of its owner’s kindness. I wasn’t holding my breath.
“You fucker!” Ben’s tinny voice yelled into the phone. “How could you just take my fucking car?” On speaker, he sounded like an enraged mosquito.
“Dude, I’m really sorry!” Jamie said. “It was an emergency and—”
“Why didn’t you give me a heads-up, asshole?”
Jamie blinked. It was a fair enough question. “You—you said you’d never cover for me again.”
“I was pissed, okay? Jesus…bring it back already.”
“Can’t.”
“What? You have to. It’s been reported stolen.”
“Oh, shit.” Jamie covered the right side of his face with his hand. “Shit shit shit.”
“Dad was spying from the window,” Ben went on, “when Senior Number One dropped me off after our date. He asked why the car was missing. I had no clue what to tell him.”
A squad car was cruising toward the gas station. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Jamie backed away from me, pale. I could no longer catch all Ben’s words, though I still caught the gist of it.
“Thanks to you…Gina…I fell…playing basketball!” Ben chortled. “…thinks I’m…and abused. Thanks a lot!”
I wish it would pass us, just pass us and go, Jamie whispered.
The squad car passed. I inhaled fresh air but couldn’t seem to get enough of it.
“Where are you anyway, you little shit? No, wait, don’t tell me. You finally got yourself so deep in it I can’t cover for you. Free advice? Beg for solitary.”
Jamie closed the phone and turned to me, his face an ashy gray. “We have to ditch this car, we have to get it off the street.”
“Right. Okay.” I bobbed my head, numb. Without a car, we were even less likely to find Icka. Hopeless.
I felt my body sinking, my knees dragged down to the cold concrete as if commanded by the gravity of Jupiter.
And blink: Suddenly I was no longer outside the gas station. There was an orange light and I was back in the dark bedroom. The musty mattress. Silent panic. The shadow hands breathing over me, stealing my air. My heart raced and skipped wildly. Then my breath stopped. My heart stopped.
“Joy.”
I could dimly hear Jamie’s voice.
“Joy? What are you seeing?”
The gas-station light seemed very far away, a soft fuzzy red sun, as if I were glimpsing it from inside a long tunnel.
At the same time, I felt myself—my other, Icka self—being hoisted and carried. I was breathing again, but slow and shallow. I could no longer see. I was bumped and bounced down stairs, many stairs, then pushed against a cold metal door into the outside air. Where was I? I wish you’d open your eyes, Jess, I begged. I wish you’d show me where you are. For a moment my vision fluttered open and I caught sight of dirty pavement, brownstones, and brick apartment buildings, a faded green store sign whose remaining letters read: P**EST**** GRO****. Then the eyes closed, and I was shoved into a narrow space that smelled like gasoline and mold and crackers, and from then on I saw and heard and felt nothing. I wished nothing. I was nothing.
I’d found oblivion.
“Hel-lo.” Parker’s voice was quiet and groggy but clipped, halfway between asleep and pissed off.
“It’s me,” I said quickly. “Sorry if I woke you this time, but I need your help, fast.”
“Oh my god, are you actually sick?” She sounded more awake now. “Tell me what you need me to do.”
“I’m not sick, but you were right that something’s going on with me. I can’t explain it all right now, but—”
“I cannot believe you!” she cut in. “You’re still being all secretive and weird!”
“I can’t help that right now.” I thought of how our last conversation had ended and felt sad. But my sadness was like a tiny water drop. It sizzled on the flame of my terror over Jess’s being…what? Hurt? Worse than hurt? “I know I owe you an explanation,” I said. “But it’ll have to wait. This is urgent. Just please go to your computer and type what I tell you.”
To my own ears, I sounded every bit as bossy and commanding as she often did—maybe more so. Incredibly, Parker did what I asked her to.
Through Google Maps, we narrowed down P**EST**** GRO**** to Pike Street Grocery in Seattle’s Capitol Hill neighborhood. I repeated the address to Jamie, who found it on our map.
“Wait, you’re not actually in Seattle, are you?”
“Tell you later, gotta go!”
“Joy. Wait.” She lowered her voice. “If you’re in some kind of trouble—I mean, I feel like I should tell my mom about this call.”
“Can you please just trust me for tonight and I’ll explain tomorrow?”
“But I’m worried about you. This feels too big for me.”
I sighed. “Well, okay, do what you have to do. I’ll do what I have to do.”
She hesitated. “You said I don’t know you that well. The more I think about it, you’re right. Or at least, you’re not acting like yourself lately. You seem so much…tougher.”
I shut my eyes, part of me wishing I could give her back the old, agreeable Joy she no doubt missed, but it was impossible. I opened my eyes. “This is the real me.”
Up ahead I saw the green awning, the sign: P**EST**** GRO****. Jamie slowed the car. “I’ll explain everything tomorrow,” I repeated. “If you want to hear it.”
Parker exhaled a sigh that was more like a dragon’s fire breath. “The real you is kind of a pain in the ass,” she said. “But…I think I’m going to like her.”
“Really?”
“Yes. A lot. But you better call me tomorrow, first thing!”
Every possible inch of parking space was full, so we parked in front of a driveway and hoped its owners were too asleep to notice.
As we stepped out of the car, Jamie took a sharp intake of breath. “This is bad, really bad.”
“What is it?”
“Guilt, mostly. Strong guilt, with fear mixed in. It’s already hitting me,” he added. “I don’t know how long I can last here.”
Guilt. I bit my lip. What was so bad even a drug dealer would feel guilty after doing it? “All right, where’s it coming from?”
He pointed to the left, across from the store. That side of the street was a mix of seven-or eight-story apartments and brownstone houses.
I Listened but caught nothing in particular. “I can’t Hear them from this far away,” I said. “Which place is it?”
He hesitated. “Joy, I don’t think it’s safe for us—for me—to go any farther. Something bad just went down here. It’s obvious. We’d be getting ourselves right in the middle of whatever it is.”
“I’m already in the middle of it,” I said. “If you’re not coming with me, fine, I understand. But I have to keep going. Even if I have to walk up t
o every door of every house and apartment on this street.”
He took a deep breath. “In that case,” he said, “it’s the second house on the left.” I looked where he was gesturing. The lights were on. “Good luck,” he added.
I opened my mouth but said nothing. Was he really going to make me go alone?
“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. It’s just too much.” He shook his head. “Shit, I knew it was going to hurt when I had to let you down.” He turned away from me, apologetic Whispers echoed in my mind: Wish I was more like you. Wish I was strong.
Strong? No one had ever described me as strong before. My teeth were chattering. I missed him already. But no one else could do this for me, and later might be too late. I walked up and rang the bell.
No answer.
I rang a second time. Nothing. What would I do if they didn’t answer? Kick down the door? Camp out here and wait for Dad to reach Seattle? Pester the cops with a vague, anonymous psychic tip?
On the other hand, I hadn’t actually heard the doorbell. Maybe it didn’t work. I’d just rapped on the door when I felt Jamie’s presence. Heard his wishes near me again: I hope I can be strong.
He was behind me. I tipped my head back to rest on his shoulder, breathed in the warm scent of his skin. “You’re back! But you said—”
“It’s not safe.” He smoothed my hair. “And I couldn’t live with it if you got hurt when I could have stopped it. If things get ugly, maybe I can protect you. I’ve never used it for anything good before.”
Heavy footsteps at the door. My hands and feet felt freezing, bloodless.
It dawned on me what he was saying. “You mean if a Wave knocks you down—”
“I’ll just let it take over,” he said. “Let it turn me into…what you saw this afternoon. Just stay out of my way, and if I tell you to run—”
I shook my head. “No…”
But I had little time to argue or even accept before we heard the popping of locks, like a gun being cocked, and then the metal door slid open.
20
I Heard a frantic Whisper, I hope it’s not the cops out there, and then a milk-white hulk of a dude appeared in the doorway, thick arms crossed over a gray leather duster. His relief on seeing we weren’t police faded fast, and he glowered at Jamie’s drug slogan T-shirt. “It’s three A.M., kidlets.” I wish whoever sent these clowns had told them to show up during business hours! He started to close the door.
“Wait!” I held up my hand. “We’re not here to buy from you, I’m looking for my sister! She’s missing.”
He stopped, blinked as if hit by bright sunlight.
“Blond, small build?” I added hurriedly. “Seventeen?”
“Huh, I’m trying to think….” The dude scratched at his sparse, carrot-colored chin hair. He looked only a few years older than Icka, with a skinny rat face that clashed absurdly with his slouching bulk. Seventeen, he Whispered. I wish she’d told me she was a fuckin’ minor! Man, I just want to erase this whole goddamn night….
Next to me Jamie gritted his teeth. The guy’s crawling fear was clearly starting to rub off.
“Sorry, babe, can’t help ya.” The drug dealer was breathing hard. “Too bad I didn’t see her…she sounds hot.” His lewd chuckle sounded weak, halfhearted. He mopped sweat off his scrubby mustache.
I stared at his dirty nails. His three-dollar Hot Topic skull ring. Was this one of the shadow hands groping my sister when she was too weak to move?
Next thing I knew, Jamie’s fist swung like lightning into the drug dealer’s pitted cheek, landing with a solid thud.
The guy rocked backward, groaning curses, but like a grizzly bear pegged with a BB gun, he wasn’t really hurt. Just pissed off.
“I’m going to kick your skinny ass.” And he lunged himself at Jamie.
Without thinking, I darted past them inside.
“The fuck d’you think you’re going?” the dude snarled. But he was too busy fighting the raw power of his own emotions to stop me running up the stairs.
An acrid stench hit my nostrils before I’d even stepped into the dimly lit living room. Except for the glowing fireplace in the far corner, and the man standing silently in front of it, all was as I remembered it through Icka’s eyes. A small, squarish room with drawn blinds, windowsills caked with ash and dotted with still-smoking incense cones. On my left, the stained gray futon mattress. On my right, a hallway with at least three closed doors. I almost tripped on a laptop carelessly laid open on the skuzzy tan carpet.
The man kneeling over the flame was scrawny and long-haired, dressed in a black T-shirt and sagging-in-the-butt plaid pj bottoms. I wish Keith hadn’t made up that Oblivion shit, he Whispered. Let’s just hope we don’t both rot in prison for it. Hurriedly his tiny hands scooped up bits of…something…from beside him on the floor and fed it to the fire. The something was soft, pale, and furry looking, like a small animal. A sleeping kitten.
Then my perspective gelled, and I realized I was staring at a pile of human hair.
Long, dreaded, white blond. Her hair.
On the ashes below rested dozens of reddish charred blobs, each the size of a tooth. Beads, they were beads. The crimson beads from Icka’s Guatemalan wallet. He must have already burned that.
God, I hope we don’t get caught, he Whispered. Wish that dumb bastard hadn’t lied to get laid. “’Scuse me!” The little guy finally saw me. “What the fuck are you doing here?” His fussy, nasal voice squeaked with anxiety. Is it too much to ask that Keith could go three hours without letting a random chick into our place?
We stared at each other. I couldn’t speak. My brain had locked itself. Time shifted, opened up. The stench of burning hair grew more and more pungent, like a photo coming into ever-sharper focus. I’d been lurking here for hours. Centuries.
“You’re a friend of Keith’s?” The little guy peered at me through Coke-bottle lenses, his unlined face far younger than I’d guessed. “You have a name?” Whoever she is, I hope she’s too stoned to catch on to what I’m doing here.
We heard groans and shoving from the stairwell.
“Hey, what’s that?” The little guy jumped to his feet. “The hell’s goin’ on down there?” He’d dropped his ratty blond handful; the strands disappeared, blending into the carpet.
Her hair. I had to stop him from burning her hair.
I don’t know why it mattered so much to me. Hair is just dead cells, we learned that in science. You can’t make a whole new person from dead cells. Holding a piece of hair is sort of like holding on to the past.
My hand snaked out and snatched a dry, matted clump from the pile.
I want to start fresh, be a whole new person, Icka had wished in my dream.
I want to erase this whole goddamn night.
They were trying to erase her, destroy all traces of her. I couldn’t let them. My fist closed in a tight grip around my lock of hair. I was never going to let it go. I was going to have to be buried with a piece of my sister’s gross hair that I’d always made fun of.
“Ray!” Keith barked. “Help me here. I need backup.”
“Oh, Jesus.” The little guy’s bird eyes jerked toward the front door. “This isn’t fucking happening,” he muttered, then yelled back, “All right, I’m coming!” and scurried past me.
I couldn’t see what help the little guy would be in a fight between massive Keith and a Wave-powered Jamie.
Then I realized he wasn’t heading toward the stairs but had disappeared behind one of the doors in the hallway. A bedroom, I guessed. Quickly, I followed, Listening. I just want to wake up and have this all be a dream, he whispered. Me too, I thought. That chick better stay the fuck out of my way. Hope this scares her off. I don’t want have to shoot anyone.
Shoot anyone? Was he…oh my god oh my god. He was getting a GUN?
I heard the shriek of breaking glass, several thumps, and then a low, animal sound of pain. Jamie!
“Call off your pit bull, bitch.” Keith was in m
y face suddenly, his sweaty hand on my throat, his sour-cream-and-onion-chips breath my only air supply. “You have no right.” His voice cracked, and I saw his ferrety face was raw and red as a hunk of steak. A mix of threat and pleading in his voice. “Get out of here! Before you both end up dead.”
“Dead,” I repeated dumbly, and gripped the lock of Icka’s hair tight.
Behind Keith I saw Jamie writhing on the floor. Bits of green glass surrounded him. As he staggered to stand, new angry cuts on his forehead trailed blood down his eyebrows. I want you to run for it, he Whispered. I hope you can still find your sister, alone.
“Jamie, no.” My voice came out pinched, ragged. “Icka’s…she’s…she can’t be…” Dead.
Jamie opened his mouth and a howl of grief escaped him. My grief. I wish you’d go, he Whispered, don’t stay and see me rip his throat out. The focused fury in his eyes told me he was past the point of controlling it. The Waves had taken over. Jamie headed straight for Keith, stalking him across the room.
“Oh, Jesus.” Keith’s hand fell from my neck, and he backed away, toward the door. “Don’t let this berserker kill me. What’s he run on—meth, PCP? Ray!” he bawled. “Ray.”
The door to the other room burst open, and the little guy stood holding a shotgun. Trained on me.
My vision tunneled. The gun. The gun. The gun. It was all I could see. I’d never seen someone aim a real gun. My mind raced from the past—we were outside ten minutes ago, I was at my birthday party last night—to the future. My parents’ lives ruined, Jamie dead or in prison for life. I might meet Icka again. What would I tell her? I should have stood by you, against this horrible world. We might have had more of a chance.
I Heard Jamie Whisper, Wish you would run and let me cover you.
Run. God, I wanted to. Maybe they wouldn’t shoot me, they’d be too busy fighting Jamie. Jamie. He was standing with me against the world. I couldn’t leave him behind.
Whisper Page 19
