by Amy Richie
Chapter Thirteen
I still couldn't understand how I had a freshly printed bus ticket in my hand. I ran my fingers over the black ink, slightly awed by all that had happened.
I thought no one else could see my ghost people, but somehow Tristan had been able to get a bus ticket and Toby had been able to get me a bag with clothes and money. “Did they see you?” I asked again.
As I expected, Tristan groaned out a half answer. “Don't over think it, Ren. You needed a bus ticket- I got one for you.”
“Yeah, but...”
“I told you I would take care of you. Didn't I say I would?”
“Yes, but...”
“Did you doubt me?”
“No.” Maybe I did a little. He was an invisible man. How did he even have money? “Can you put your hands in your pocket?” I asked abruptly.
“What?”
“I mean,” I squared my shoulders to look at him better, “if I tried to reach into your pocket- my hand would go right through you.”
“Why would you put your hand in my pocket?”
“I wouldn't.”
“Then?” One half of his mouth rose up into a lazy grin.
“I didn't mean that I wanted to...” Heat rose to spread into my neck. I ducked my head, mortified that he would misunderstand me.
“Come on,” he tugged lightly on my shirt sleeve, “we better not stand out here in plain sight in case you decide to start ripping my clothes off.”
“I never...” He was laughing though, a kind of sound I had never heard before. A sound I wouldn't be able to ignore no matter where I was in the world. My lips reformed into a smile despite my embarrassment. “I only meant how would you get money out,” I called out even as I followed him across the platform.
“Sure,” he called back, his smile still wide.
I was too aware of the strangers watching me to deny his accusations again though, a fact I was sure he would take as an admission of guilt. I groaned inwardly at all the looks I'd have to endure now. Would I even be able to feel him? He seemed solid enough in the hotel when he kissed me. I was sure we'd be able to...
I shook my head quickly before any worse thoughts could form. What was wrong with me? Was I really one of those girls? The kind that fell for the first guy to show me any attention? He wasn't the first though.
I shook my head again.
“Keep up, Ren,” Tristan called out. I was surprised when I looked up and he was watching me. Had I really been going that slow?
“I'm coming,” I shooed away his outstretched hand just in case no one could see him. How would that look if I was holding hands with the air? He could try to be a little more careful. He was starting to act like Toby.
I cringed inwardly as soon as his name crossed my thoughts again. He was probably back at the hotel by now, knowing I had left. Would he know who I had left with? Would he come here for me?
I decided when I was thirteen that I no longer wanted Toby to follow me everywhere. Hiding from him wasn't easy, though. He told me then that he would always be able to find me- no matter where I was in the world. It was his curse. I was still thirteen when I gave up and decided to just let him tag along.
Here I was years later, trying to hide from him again. He would find me though.
Following Tristan was different than Toby following me. “We'll sit here and wait for the bus,” he stopped abruptly in front of an empty wooden bench.
“Here?” I croaked. “Can't we find somewhere less noticeable?”
“We'll sit here,” he repeated.
Tristan’s chin tilted up, his eyes watching me expectantly. Sitting down didn't seem like the best idea. What if someone sat down beside me? I danced awkwardly with indecision while he sat calmly, just watching me.
“No one will sit beside you,” he surprised me by guessing my anxieties. He couldn't know that for sure though. “You notice that no one has approached you yet?” he grinned.
Now that I took a minute to actually look around me, I realized he was right. The people left at the bus station barely even glanced my way. They all wore matching scowls and hurried about their own business.
I couldn't blame them either. Sprinkled throughout the crowd were the ghost people; shouting at people. A man sat against the wall not far from where I was standing; his hands pressed tight to his face, his eyes nearly swallowed in the lines of his scowl. A woman I recognized from the hospital was mere inches from his face- screaming.
“Why can't I hear them?” I hissed, sliding onto the cold wood beside Tristan.
He shrugged, his grin faltering but reappearing quickly. “Why should our morning be unpleasant?”
A strange sensation stirred low in my gut, one I didn't recognize. It took me a moment to realize I felt bad for these strangers; people who were headed to new destinations- who were now being tormented because I was there.
“Can't you make them just go away?” I hissed.
“It doesn't work like that.”
“They listen to you,” I insisted. I wasn't sure why exactly, but the ghost people listened to Tristan. I had seen it before back at the hospital; he could do it here now, too.
“Sometimes,” he shrugged nonchalantly.
“You're really not going to help these people?”
“Why should I?”
“Who...” I leaned forward too quickly and almost went for a concrete nosedive. Why should he? Why wouldn't he was a better question.
“The only person I care about is perfectly safe.” He turned away without even a tiny tug on his lips to show he was joking.
“I don't...” I hesitated, chewing on the inside of my lip while I tried to make sense of Tristan.
“You, Ren,” he said without looking my way, “you're the only one I care about and you're fine.”
My mouth clamped shut. Even if I knew how to respond to that, no words were escaping my lips now. Tristan cared about me? Me? Why would he? He didn't even know me.
Maybe that was the key. He didn't know me. Anyone who knew me, knew I wasn't worth caring about. No one ever had before. I wasn't even sure how I should act now that Tristan cared about me.
My eyes moved alone to take in his harsh profile. Full lips were stretched tight over teeth I knew were perfect even if I couldn't see them. My fingers longed to smooth out the lines between his eyes where his scowl met irritation.
It was a strange feeling knowing someone cared about you. All of a sudden, I felt responsible for Tristan’s missing smile and a deep longing to bring it back. It wasn't like we would be here long, maybe I should just relax and ignore the ghost people.
“H... how far away is this place you're taking me?” I only had to clear my throat twice to get the question out.
“Couple days.” Scowl still in place. Maybe I had even managed to make it worse.
“That's... kinda far.”
“We need to put some distance between you and the hospital.”
“Oh.” Of course. That made perfect sense.
“There's the bus now.” He nodded towards a sleek grey and red bus that was screeching and hissing to a stop in front of us. A small, tight smile flashed my way before he sprang to his feet.
A lot less enthusiastically and clutching my ticket until the paper bent, I stood up beside Tristan. A young man wearing an all blue uniform danced the few steps off the bus and skidded to a halt just barely a foot away from me.
“We still have almost thirty minutes before we leave.” He may have tried for a kind smile, but it mostly just looked worried.
“I'll just wait on the bus.” I swallowed past the dryness in my throat. Strange how easy it was to talk to the man. “Is... is that alright?”
He glanced behind me. “No luggage?”
“Just my bag.” I turned in profile to show off the red schoolbag I still had hung on my back.
“Go ahead then.” He nodded towards the waiting bus.
The inside of the bus was clean, even if it did smell like burning oil. “We should si
t at the back, right?” I shuffled forward a few feet.
“The bathroom is back there,” Tristan replied easily, “it might get crowded.”
I slid quickly into the next seat we passed. What was I doing? Why did I think I could get away with this? A half hour. No way would I last that long. I craned my neck, trying to see as far out the window as possible. The police were probably already on their way.
“Hey,” Tristan nudged my shoulder.
I turned quickly towards him, a fake smile already plastered on my face to show him just how not nervous I was. “Yeah?”
“You worry too much, Ren,” he smiled wide, rubbing his hand lightly up my arm. “You need to relax.”
My smile froze in place. How long had Tristan been watching me? “I had a friend who used to tell me the same thing.”
“At Nine Crosses?”
“No,” I rolled my eyes. “I mean a real-life friend.”
“Oh,” his mouth moved to form a perfect circle. “And where is this real-life friend now?”
“He's...” I jerked my head around to watch out the window. Daylight was rolling in faster now, erasing the darkness. “He always said no matter how black the night, morning would come again,” I murmured, not looking back at Tristan.
I hadn't thought of Austin in a while. Now wasn't the time to dredge up old memories. The morning didn't always come, though. Not always. Sometimes things just stayed black.
