Auracle

by Gina Rosati

  In principle, that should work, but know myself? I can’t even get into myself right now. But maybe I can learn a little more about Taylor. Really, all I know about her is from what I’ve seen at school. I’ve heard she lived in a big house on Main Street, which makes me wonder how she’ll handle slumming in my crappy little house. What will she think when she wakes up in the morning and has to deal with my hungover father? I wait until first morning light to head over to Main Street and cruise up and down until I find a mailbox with block letters spelling Gleason stuck to it. I don’t bother with such formalities as ringing the doorbell. I just slip right through the wall and find myself in a lavish master bathroom that’s bigger than my bedroom.

  The girl was loaded. I mean, you can’t even compare apples to oranges; this is more like watermelons and raisins. I drift through a wall into an opulent master bedroom where the king-sized bed is still made, and then another bedroom that has the sterile feel of a guest room. One of the bedrooms is decorated in a sporty boy motif, with a tween-aged boy asleep in the bed. The last room looks like a picture out of a magazine, and the furniture in here easily costs more than all of the furniture in my house combined. Her computer is state-of-the-art, and she has a flat-screen television attached to one wall. On another wall, there’s a floor-to-ceiling bulletin board hosting a rainbow of award ribbons and dozens of photographs. I take a minute to check out all the glamorous shots of Taylor. Nope, she is not going to like living in Anna Rogan’s bony little body.

  Three doors lead out of Taylor’s room. It’s pitch-black through one door, so it’s probably a closet; one door leads to the hallway; and the last one leads into her own full bathroom. She has her own bathroom? She had her own bathroom … with cushy two-ply toilet paper and everything. Again I wonder: what did a two-ply girl like Taylor see in a one-ply guy like Seth?

  And how will this upper-class girl deal with my lower-class life? Maybe after she’s had to clean my father’s puke off the toilet seat a few times, she’ll leave my body of her own free will.

  Or maybe she’ll find my life is better than no life at all.

  The smell of coffee wafts up the stairs. I follow it downstairs to the kitchen where Taylor’s parents pace around two silent cell phones which sit on a granite countertop. Their auras are a strange mix of anger, sorrow, and hope. If I could appear right here and tell them what’s happened to their daughter, would I? Or would I let them hang on to that little thread of hope just a bit longer?

  It’s a ridiculous question because I can’t let these people see me in my astral state, and Taylor is so obviously dead, but still …

  I would leave them with hope.

  CHAPTER 10

  I leave the Gleasons to the misery that awaits them and return home through a gray gloom.

  Today would have been a good day to stay in bed and listen to the heavy rain hammer at the roof. Through the bedroom wall, I hear my mother’s alarm clock start to squawk. She will hit the snooze bar once, then she’ll get up and usually she’ll wake me as soon as she’s showered. I can’t imagine she’ll make Taylor go to school after the night she’s had. I move out to the living room for the sole reason that I’m sick of listening to Taylor snore. It’s not much brighter out here, except for a small light on over the kitchen sink. The recliner is empty, but not inviting. There’s a greasy indentation where my father’s head usually rests, and an overall flakiness dusts the black vinyl. Last night’s empty bottle and glass wait on the end table for my mom to pick them up, making way for today’s bottle and glass.

  It will be interesting to see Taylor’s reaction when she meets my father. Best case scenario is she’s completely disgusted and would rather be dead than to live with the guy. Worst case? She shows him attitude and he shows her the back of his hand, promise or no promise.

  My mom’s alarm clock starts bleating again. She shuffles out in her bare feet, opens my bedroom door without knocking, and peeks at the lump on the bed. She sighs as she pulls the door closed behind her, then goes to the phone and calls school to tell them I won’t be in. Next, she calls her office and tells them she’ll be working from home today. Finally, she calls Rei’s cell phone and leaves a message.

  “Rei, honey, it’s Lydie. Don’t wait for Anna this morning. She’s not feeling well, so I’m keeping her home. Stay dry.”

  This is the same message she leaves him whenever I have serious cramps, and Rei broke the code on that a long time ago, so he shouldn’t worry. Much. My mom goes to start coffee, so I head back into my bedroom. God! I sound like a chainsaw! I ram into Taylor, just in case anything’s changed overnight. It hasn’t. I bounce off and drift toward the wall. She opens one eye and snarls at me, then pulls the covers over her head.

  Keeping my distance, I check on Rei. If he saw me, he’d probably think I’m still dreaming since I’m home sick, but still, I’d rather he didn’t see me. I’m glad my mom didn’t tell him I whacked my head, because he’ll just blame my father. There’s an overgrown blue spruce tree near his driveway which offers good camouflage should I erroneously appear again. After a while, he steps onto his front porch, looks toward my house, then turns his phone on and discovers the message that’s waiting for him. No, he doesn’t look too concerned. He snaps the phone shut and pulls up the hood of his sweatshirt before he steps off the porch and into the downpour.

  I wonder if Seth will be on the bus. He should still have plenty of gas in his car, but I feel this nasty medley of guilt, fear, and curiosity when I think of Seth. I was so freaked out to find Taylor in my body that I admit it: I forgot about Seth until just now. I wonder where he is.

  I don’t expect he’ll be on the bus, but I check it anyway and find his usual seat empty. I check Seth’s house, but he’s not there either. I swoop over the school parking lot, but I don’t see his car.

  Taylor’s parents must have talked to her friends by now, and at least one of them must have known about her plans to meet Seth at the falls. Seth knows the police will come looking for him. He might not be very academically inclined, but he’s not stupid.

  Once I’ve touched someone a few times, I can memorize the unique rhythm of their energy pattern. It’s like hearing the drumbeat from a song, and wherever they go, they leave a slow fading echo. Even though Seth seemed chronically sweaty to me, we’ve high-fived a few times, and I arm wrestled him for three-quarters of a second once before he slammed my arm against the tabletop, much harder than necessary, and whooped like he had just scored the winning touchdown at the Super Bowl. That was enough touching for me, but I know his energy pattern well enough to find him.

  I follow the echo of his vibration and find him walking down a road so filled with muddy ruts and potholes that only the very brave or very foolish would dare drive on it. It’s quiet except for the steady hiss of raindrops and an occasional hardy soul in a pickup truck sloshing through the puddles. Seth looks like a hunchback, wearing a bulging backpack under an army green rain poncho. He looks exhausted, and his aura is as muddy as the road around him.

  I wonder where he’s heading. He’s about fifteen miles from the Canadian border, so I’m going to assume he’s parked his car close to the border to fool the authorities into believing he snuck into Canada. Somehow, I doubt the police are that stupid. It just seems odd he’s traveling on foot now, and that he carries no tent, no sleeping bag. I wonder if he has a plan, because I sure haven’t come up with one yet.

  * * *

  School won’t get out for a long while, so I decide to check the evidence. Taylor’s body is still stuck fast by her skirt, bobbing up and down in the current. She’s bloated from waterlog and her skin has turned a mottled gray. Something has been gnawing or pecking at the soft arch of her foot and a good sized chunk is missing. If she hadn’t stolen my body, I would be overcome with emotion at the sight of this girl right now, but as the situation stands, crows have to eat, too.

  Back at my house, Taylor is still sleeping. I slam into her, just in case, and she wakes up in a gri
zzly mood. She sits up, bleary-eyed, and swears viciously. For a minute, she seems discombobulated, but then reality hits and she buries her head under my pillow, groaning. “Why didn’t I just die when I had the chance?”

  Good question. I slam her again.

  “Go away, Anna,” she looks straight at me and hisses. “You’re not getting back in here, so quit trying.”

  I slam her again, but all the energy I soaked up from Rei last night is fading fast now that I’m back here. She rolls over and looks at the clock. “Your house is a dump,” she sneers.

  Then leave, I tell her.

  “What? I can’t hear you. Are you talking to me?” she taunts.

  PLEASE GO AWAY! I mouth the words slowly, deliberately, and, as much as it pains me, politely.

  “What? Are you telling me to go away?”

  Hey, it’s worth a shot. I nod.

  “Finders keepers, Anna. I’m not going anywhere. You go away.” She pulls the pillow back over her head.

  I don’t have the energy to take another whack at her.

  If only frustration were a positive emotion, I’d be running on a full tank now. How ironic that I can wander around the White House, I can whiz through the vaults of Fort Knox, but I cannot get back into my own body. What do I do now? This is an enormous mess of my own doing, and I don’t know how to fix it.

  * * *

  Rei is at lunch, and he doesn’t look happy. I’m sure he’s figured out by now that Seth is absent. He sits alone at our table and works on homework, oblivious to the rumors that are spreading through school about Taylor and Seth. When he dials my phone, he gets my voice mail. He must be lonely, because he leaves a long message for me. “Hi Anna, it’s me. How’re you feeling? Seth’s not in school today either, so I was wondering if you had any idea where he is. Call me as soon as you get this? Please? I’ll come see you when I get home from school anyway.”

  An empty police cruiser is parked outside the school in the fire lane. I find two police officers in the principal’s office, asking him about Taylor and Seth. The principal looks concerned, but not surprised. Unlike Rei, he has heard the gossip. The shorter, balder police officer produces a notebook from his jacket pocket, and shows a page to the principal. There are names scribbled on it—all the names of Taylor’s girlfriends. The principal jots down the list of names on a separate sheet of yellow lined paper, pushes a button, and a secretary appears at the door.

  “Yes, Mr. Bowers.”

  He hands her the list. “Please ask these students to report to my office.”

  I follow the secretary back to the cafeteria, where Taylor’s friends are huddled together at their usual table by the window. None of them looks surprised when the secretary approaches them. They give each other knowing looks and get up quietly, following the secretary out into the hallway.

  They sit in a row in the front office, leaning over to whisper to each other as they wait. They all have the same story, as if they’ve collectively rehearsed it. Taylor had plans to meet Seth at the falls at four o’clock yesterday, and they haven’t heard from her since. She doesn’t answer her cell phone. Her mom called each of them last night looking for her, but they don’t know where she is. Did she have a prior relationship with Seth Murphy? She really liked him, but he was mean to her. How was he mean? He ignored her, gave her dirty looks. He moved his seat if she sat too close to him. Sometimes he yelled at her. They conveniently leave out the part about how she stole his cell phone and used it to coerce him into meeting her. Cori Schneider impatiently cracks her gum throughout the entire questioning.

  * * *

  By one o’clock, the rain has stopped and the sun is out, drying up the muck. At three, Rei surprises me by pulling into his driveway in his parents’ car. Saya must have gone to a friend’s house, because as soon as Rei drops off his backpack, he’s punching my house phone number into his cell. My mom answers. “Sure, come on over, honey. She could use some company.”

  I skulk around behind plants, doors, anything that will hide me, just in case. I feel like a snake. Back at my house, my mom is hustling Taylor to get ready for company. Taylor’s eyes narrow, but she gets up slowly and goes into the bathroom to splash some water on her face and brush her hair and teeth. She regards my toothbrush with total revulsion, as if she’s going to catch some horrible disease from using it. Leaning on the counter, she stares at my reflection in the mirror.

  “Girl, you need one hell of a makeover.” Wearing the same gym shorts and T-shirt Rei saw me in last night, she goes outside and sits on the damp front steps. I see Rei coming down the path between our yards.

  “Hi!” he calls out before he even reaches the sparse clumps of grass we call a front lawn.

  “Hi,” she responds suspiciously.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “My head is killing me,” she replies as if this is obvious and he’s an idiot.

  “I thought you had cramps.” He’s reached the steps and his face is all worried now. “What’s wrong with your head?”

  “Didn’t she tell you I have a concussion?”

  “No! How’d that happen?”

  “I fell off that piece of shit desk chair and hit my head on the side of the desk.”

  Disapproval of Taylor’s language trumps worry for a split second before he asks, “Where? Show me.”

  Taylor moves her hand up and through her hair, first to the spot where she smashed her head against the rock yesterday, then over to the other side where she whacked my head against the desk. She points. “Right here. See?”

  Rei reaches out and touches it gently. “Here?”

  “Ouch!”

  Rei pulls his hand back. “Sorry. I was trying to be careful. It hurts that much?”

  “Yes!” she confirms, swishing her hair behind her shoulder. It definitely does not have the same satisfying effect when she does it with my hair.

  “And the doctor says it’s a concussion? What did he say to do about it?”

  “Rest. They gave me some prescription strength ibuprofen, which is doing nothing. She,” Taylor jerks her head toward the house and winces, “kept waking me up all night long.”

  “You should have my mom take a look at it.”

  “Why? Is she a doctor or something?”

  “Wow! You must’ve hit your head a lot harder than I thought.” Rei sits sideways on the next step down, but he’s still taller than me.

  “I did hit it really hard. I can’t remember a lot of stuff.” Taylor drops her head in her hands and combs her fingers through her hair. “Ow!”

  “Well, stop touching it, then. Here, let me see your pupils.” He puts his hands on either side of her face to hold her steady and looks into Taylor’s eyes, studying them for a minute. He frowns slightly. “Same size, that’s a good thing. Is the light bothering you?”

  “No. Are you a doctor now, too?”

  Rei shakes his head without smiling and talks in that detached tone people use when they are saying one thing and thinking something else. “Sometimes people land on their head in aikido. You learn what to look for.” He stares into her eyes for a few seconds more, his eyebrows creasing together.

  She leans forward and looks right back into Rei’s eyes. “Hello? What are you looking for in there?”

  Rei blinks and drops his hands onto his lap. “I don’t know. So you really fell off your desk chair?”

  “Um, yeah. Did you ever see that chair? It’s ready to fall apart.”

  “Yeah, I know. Your mom’s been meaning to buy you a new one for a while.”

  “Oh.”

  “So what do you mean, you don’t remember stuff. What don’t you remember?”

  “Hmm … Oh, my full name—isn’t Anna short for something?”

  Rei’s jaw practically unhinges. “You don’t even remember your own name?”

  “I remember Anna Rogan.”

  “Annaliese Grace Rogan.”

  “Oh.” She nods thoughtfully. “That’s pretty. Where’s my driver’
s license?”

  Rei grins. “You don’t have a driver’s license.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Sorry. Your mom never got around to teaching you how to drive. My dad said he’d teach you this summer.”

  Taylor rolls her eyes and leans back on her hands. “No license. This is really going to suck! How am I supposed to get to school?”

  “You take the bus with me.”

  “The bus.” She shudders. “Great. And what’s the deal with the guy in there?”

  “Your father?”

  She shrugs. “I guess.”

  Rei suddenly looks uncomfortable and he lowers his voice. “Anna, your dad’s been an alcoholic for years. You don’t remember that?”

  She shakes her head. “What about my mother?”

  “She’s not home a lot, but she’s fine. Remember? She sells real estate.”

  “So is he a mean drunk or a mellow drunk?”

  Rei bites his lips together and hesitates before slowly shrugging his shoulders. “You get along best with him when you stay out of his way.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Swish.

  “I mean this,” Rei reaches up and traces his index finger along the scar on my forehead, “happened one time when you didn’t stay out of his way. He hit you and you fell against the counter. It only happened once, and he promised he wouldn’t do it again. Anna, does your mom know how much stuff you don’t remember?”

  Taylor shrugs. “They figure it’s temporary.”

  “But what if it’s not? This isn’t little stuff you’re forgetting; this is some major stuff! You remember me, right?”

  “Pretty much. Aren’t you, like, my boyfriend or something?”

  Rei grins at this. “Wow! Um, well, I’m a boy and I’m your friend, but you never considered me a boyfriend. You’ve always thought of me more like a brother.”

  “I have?”