If only he knew.
My mind flashed back to the events that had just happened in the cafeteria, the moments playing out again like scenes from a bizarre movie. Had that really happened? Had I been the only one to see those markings covering Noah’s body? Had Sarah used some sort of witchcraft to make me see him that way? Or was there another reason that had nothing to do with her? In my gut, I felt that Sarah was responsible. Her evil grin was evidence enough.
When we pulled up to the hospital, I waited until the EMTs unloaded Noah before getting out. Then I made sure to stay as close to his stretcher as possible as they wheeled him through the emergency doors.
Every time someone asked, I relayed the fact I was his sister. Though I bet no one believed me, no one stopped me from going along. Not until they rushed him through the big gray ICU doors. Then I was left to watch as the doors slowly swung closed.
For a while, I stood around, waiting for someone to come out with an update. How long could a person stay passed out after fainting?
The weight in my stomach became an anchor so heavy my legs couldn’t hold up my body. I sat in one of the blue, hard plastic chairs that backed up to a hallway window.
There I stayed until someone came to tell me Noah was stable and I could go talk to him. They led me to his room, never once telling me he was still…well, not awake.
I grabbed the nurse’s arm. “Did anyone call his –” Keep your story straight, Emily. “– our parents? I lost my phone.”
The squat, gray-haired woman indicated the room phone. “Then I suggest you use ours, because no one has been able to reach them. It appears the school took down his parents’ emergency contact information wrong, and when the officers stopped by to alert them, no one answered the door.”
“Yeah, they’re at work,” I said, which probably was true, though I realized in that moment how little I knew about Noah’s family. “I’ll call them.”
When she left, I took the mauve-colored seat by his bed and stared at him. What was I supposed to say or do? He must have hidden his parent’s contact information, but why? I didn’t know him a damn thing about him. Had never made it past his dreamy eyes and unusual circumstance.
“Noah?” I said. “Can you hear me?”
It was like talking to a wall. All the machines attached to him didn’t put me at ease, and the antiseptic smell permeating every inch of the hospital churned my stomach.
“What did she do to you?” I whispered, though the question was more for me.
I stood, taking him in one more time. His eyelids that fluttered but did not open, his gold-brown curls matted against his scalp. I traced my finger along the edge of the hospital bed, inching my hand closer to his skin. I didn’t touch him, though. I just frowned at the wild heat radiating from his forearm.
I wanted to tell God I would never lie again if only He would help Noah. But God knew better than to trust such an empty promise. I said a quiet prayer just the same, hoping it would be answered anyway.
“I’ll be back soon,” I whispered to Noah. “Real soon.”
Then I used the room phone to call Heather.
I needed a lift to pick up my car.
Heather peppered the trip from the hospital back to school with plenty of questions.
“What’s wrong with him?”
I didn’t know.
“What happened to him?”
Hard to say.
“Will he be all right?”
He has to be.
It was the most honest conversation I’d ever had with her, but maybe that’s because I didn’t have to say much.
Her ponytail swished as she turned a sharp corner, and the sun glared off those red, retro-winged glasses of hers. “Don’t feel much like talking, do you, Emily?”
I gave her an apologetic frown. “Not really.”
Her lips pressed into a flat line.
“That’s okay,” she said, reaching out to turn on the radio. We drove the rest of the way without another word.
Back in the school parking lot, I thanked her for the ride, promising we’d catch up soon. Then I hurried home.
When I walked in the door, Dad stood in the kitchen, making sandwiches. I figured it might help to tear into him before he could tear into me.
“I had to help someone today, and if you hadn’t taken away my phone, I could have called to tell you. Don’t you realize not having a phone is a safety issue? Mom never would have –”
He turned toward me, the doorway framing him in a sort-of candid parental shot, his eyebrow raised in a silencing way. “The restriction stands: First finish a full day of school, then I’ll return your phone. Where did you run off to today?”
“My friend is in the hospital.”
“What happened?” The concern in his tone suggested he believed me, and why shouldn’t he? I wasn’t exactly lying. “Is Heather all right?”
“Of course she is. Why wouldn’t she be?” My dad could be so weird sometimes.
“You said she was in the hospital.”
“I said my friend was in the hospital. I didn’t say which one. God, Dad, you think I only have one friend?”
He handed me a bologna on rye. “You haven’t been eating.” He bit into his own sandwich while I held mine limply in my grasp. “So, again, what happened?”
“I don’t have time. I’ll explain later, okay?” I tried to sound as desperate as I was. Demanding things of him right now wouldn’t do me any favors. “But long story short, my friend is unconscious still, so I want to get back to the hospital.”
Dad nodded. “Your friend… That’s awful vague, isn’t it? Does he have a name?”
Busted. “Noah,” I said boldly. “And he really is only a friend, in case you get any ideas.”
“No ideas, Squirrel. Just want to know who my daughter is nursing back to health.”
“Ugh!” I threw my hands in the air and stomped past him. “I’m grabbing my laptop so I can do school work while I’m there waiting, okay?”
Dad yelled up the stairs after me, “My girl’s worried about homework at a time like this? How could I complain?”
I whirled around to glare at him, but his back was already turned as he retreated back to the kitchen. When I reached my room, I tossed the sorry excuse for a sandwich into my waste bin, grabbed what I came for, and bounded back down the stairs.
“Be home by seven, Emily – or else I’m filing a missing person’s report!” my dad called as the front door slammed behind me.
Getting back into the hospital to see Noah again proved tricky. This time they wanted me to present an I.D. proving I was Noah’s sister.
I tried a different tactic on the security guard sitting behind the built-in reception desk, explaining I was a volunteer, and did he know where I should check in? He told me which signs to follow, and I pretended to go that way until I was out of sight. Then I rerouted to my real intended destination. I didn’t worry about the yellow photo I.D. sticker they gave me; no one actually checks those. Once it’s on, you’re golden, unless you try to do something stupid like steal a baby.
Yes, I’d told a few lies in my time, but I’d never deceived the law – or a security guard. My obsession with Noah and his predicament was making me reckless. Between my attraction to him and my burning curiosity to find out how my drawing curse could save him – and if his situation was related to my mother’s death – I couldn’t bring myself to draw the line.
Anyone else would be running in the opposite direction, but here I was, barreling ahead. Something was definitely wrong with me.
Once I slipped inside Noah’s room, I settled back in the bedside chair, this time equipped to find answers while I waited for him to regain consciousness. I would find out what asylum Sarah went to if it killed me, and then I would figure out if it had anything to do with her hurting Noah. If necessary
, I would burn that building to the ground.
Okay, I might not do that last part because arson is felony. Either way, Sarah was going down.
I started back at WeirdnNJ.com, searched for “asylum,” and then opened each story in a new window. I was left with a decent-sized list – fourteen locations in all – ranging from Pennhurst State School to the Dover Mental Cage. Apparently, we were all crazy here in New Jersey.
With a sigh, I scrolled through all the locations. I should have done this days ago. In my defense, the hundreds of pages had been intimidating. I’d only just now thought of searching the site itself to narrow things down.
As I scrolled through, browsing all the mental institutions, my brain-power wilted. After a while, I took a break to grab a vitamin water from the waiting room. Then it was back to work. The first thing I did was eliminate locations out of state since Heather said the asylum had definitely been in New Jersey. Next, I disregarded any that had been shut down or failed to be known for paranormal activity. Last, I decided demolished buildings could go and same for still-open facilities, no matter how chilling the horror stories of their current practices. Other locations – such as the Dover Mental Cage – hardly qualified as asylums.
When I was done, nothing remained. I’d eliminated all the locations and was about ready to commit myself to one of them.
After spending another twenty minutes watching the rise and fall of Noah’s chest, I got a second wind and gave my research another go. This time, I broadened my query to include facilities still in operation but with abandoned buildings on their property. Bingo. Only one fit the bill: Trenton Psychiatric Hospital.
It was still operational, but parts of the campus had been closed off. And, judging by the pictures, largely ignored. Sarah might be able to get into a place like that unseen – and she also might have been caught by the police for trespassing there. It was the perfect location, and as soon as Noah’s condition improved, I was going to check it out for myself.
The online school homework portal told me a paper on Go Ask Alice was due for my English class, so I spent the next hour faking my way through. I hadn’t even started it – not because I didn’t like reading, but because I didn’t like being told what to read. Also because I had enough going on in my life. Something had to give.
I set my computer’s music player to shuffle and prayed I could survive however long it was going to take me to write about a troubled teenage girl with drug addiction problems. I kind of wished I had read the book. Not just to make writing the paper easier, but because the story sounded interesting.
One of the times I peered up from my screen, Noah was staring at me. I froze, my heart in my throat. Had he seen me swaying to the music like an idiot? God, please tell me he hadn’t been watching for long.
“You okay, brat?” he said in a scratchy voice.
“Me?” I asked, incredulous. “You’re the one who got attacked. Are you okay?”
He nodded. “I’m no good to her dead. What were you listening to? You were like…in another world for a minute.”
“Oh,” I said, closing my laptop. A moment later, the music stopped, too. “It’s an old German song. ’99 Red Balloons.’ An analysis on the Cold War, I guess.”
“Doesn’t sound like you’re guessing,” he said, trying to sit up a little more in his bed.
I shrugged a shoulder. “It was addressing the hysteria and paranoia surrounding the war. Some kids bought these balloons and let them go, and they showed up as unidentified objects on the radar. Both sides were thinking a nuclear attack was underway, so they decided to fight each other.”
“It means something more to you, though.” He was prying, but I didn’t mind. Noah was the first person who seemed to genuinely want to get to know me.
“Yeah,” I said, “but not what it does to everyone else.”
One of his eyebrows perked up. “How’s that?”
I chewed my lip and pushed the toe of my sneaker against the linoleum tile beneath my chair. He would probably think I was weird after he heard this, but what the hell?
“The song is pretty anti-war,” I said, “but then at the end, one of the balloons survived. I think it means war can destroy many things, but it can’t destroy everything. There’s always something left.” I considered stopping there, but decided I might as well go all out. “I think it’s love – love survives all things. Maybe whoever wrote it doesn’t think so, but I think sometimes we do have to fight. Or at least do something.”
Noah pursed his lips. “I like it,” he said with a slow nod. “It suits you.”
I wasn’t sure what shade of red I turned then – probably more red than all 99 balloons put together – but my face burned so hot surely he could see me blush as easily as I felt it.
“Well, most people would think I just don’t get the song,” I said, hoping the self-deprecation would be enough to shift gears. “Now it’s your turn. What happened in the cafeteria?”
He lifted his hand. “Please don’t, Emily. Don’t ask me.”
“We need to talk about it, Noah.”
“Just don’t believe everything you see. Okay?”
“Fine,” I said. “But give me something more to go on.”
“I told you. I can’t.”
Was he angry with me for asking? What did he expect me to do? Pretend I hadn’t seen anything?
“Help me sit up?”
“Sure.” I stepped closer to the bed so he could loop his arm around my neck. As he eased up, I slid my own arm across his back, moving to an upright position. His body was nearly hot enough to burn me. “The nurse took your temperature?”
Noah sighed through his nose. “Yep. It’s normal. Or at least it always looks like it is.”
“No way.” I touched the back of my hand to his clammy forehead. “No freaking way.”
He pointed to a glass of water on the nearby table, and I passed it to him. He gulped the whole thing down, then put the cup aside and took my hand.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said. “You know, back at the school. But you can’t tell anyone, understand?”
I’d spent the last couple hours researching mental institutions. I was fully aware it wasn’t a good idea to tell people some boy you were crushing on appeared as some kind of demon while having a seizure.
“Lips are sealed,” I promised. “Does that happen to you often?”
For a long moment, he stared into my eyes. “Similar things, sometimes. Only when I go against her wishes, though. Be careful, Emily. For both our sakes.”
“Will do. As soon as you tell me how.”
“You can never, ever turn your back on the It Girls. Especially Sarah. She poisoned your drink while you were checking me out.”
“I wasn’t checking you out.”
Noah chuckled. “You looked at me long enough for her to slip the poison into your vitamin water. If I hadn’t stopped you…”
“So this is the price you pay for stopping her? How is she doing this to you? Some kind of witchcraft or magic, right?”
“Some kind of something,” he mumbled.
“Aren’t your parents concerned?”
A storm lit up his sky-blue eyes. “They’re still in the dark, and I plan to keep it that way.”
His tone told me I better keep it that way, too. He wasn’t going to tell me, and I didn’t want to get him worked up while he was still recovering.
“Understood,” I said. “You know, I had to say I was your sister to get in here earlier.”
“That would be awful if it were true,” he said, his eyebrow perking up.
I was pretty sure he was hitting on me, but I wasn’t about to put myself out there to confirm it.
Following a quick knock on the door, a doctor strolled in, complete with blue scrubs and wooden clipboard. “Well, well. Look who’s decided to join the l
and of the living! How are you feeling, Mr. Caldwell?”
Noah tilted his head to each side, cracking the vertebrae in his neck. “I feel like new, Doc. Ready to get out of here.”
“In time, in time.” The doctor flipped through his pages again. “All your tests came back normal. Seems like a fluke, but you should follow up with your physician.”
Noah didn’t bat an eye. “When can I go home?”
The doctor glanced up from his notes. “We just need your parents to sign you out.”
I expected him to groan or protest or something, considering he didn’t want his parents informed, but he gave the doctor a smooth smile. “Fantastic! I’ll call them now.”
The doctor left the room, and Noah grinned. “Are you going to help me sneak out of here, or what?”
“Sneak out?”
Noah shrugged. “I’m not a criminal. I can leave anytime I want. I don’t want to argue with the nurses.”
“Well, yeah, but –”
“But nothing,” he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m fine. Never better, in fact. I just don’t like hospitals.”
I checked over my shoulder and out the door. The nurse was assisting with a new emergency intake. I assessed Noah once more. He did seem better.
“Okay,” I agreed. “But if we’re going to do this, we should go now, while your nurse is busy.”
Noah nodded and slipped his pants on under his mint green hospital gown before taking it off and slipping on his shirt. I kept my attention on the hall, but out of the corner of my eyes couldn’t help but notice the smooth lines of his muscular back as he changed. After tucking my things back into my messenger bag, we walked nonchalantly into the hall.
“Act normal,” I advised.
When we reached the elevator, it was full, but the people aboard insisted there was room. We all crammed in, Noah’s body so tight against mine the left side of my body burned. If I had thought his muscles looked hard, now I felt them as his arm pressed against mine. If anyone saw me blushing the way I knew I was, they could write it off as being flushed from being packed in here. The bite of winter could not come soon enough.
Something like Voodoo Page 6
