Wraith

by Edie Claire

  I was running again. I have no idea how I got to my car, much less how I drove it back onto the Kamehameha Highway and all the way back to the condo without wrapping the both of us around a palm tree. The thoughts, the images, consumed my brain so fully it was miracle I remembered to breathe.

  They could talk to me. Both of them. None of the other shadows could. The old man was alive…

  I had seen both the old man's body and his spirit. But I could see nothing, anymore, of Zane. If he had… if he was…

  I pulled the car into the condo lot. My arms shook visibly on the steering wheel. I turned off the engine and sat quaking in my seat.

  But where?

  Zane couldn’t be in Oahu—he said he had never even made it to California. He must still be wherever the accident happened. On the mainland.

  I jumped out of the car.

  Images flashed before me. Zane's physical body, the body I had never seen. Chest moving, lungs breathing… yet horribly, dreadfully broken. Bruised and bleeding, struggling with the specter of death…

  The thought chilled me to the marrow. How would Zane feel to see himself like that? No way was he ready to die. But unlike the old man, Zane had no one to sit beside him. No one to hold his hand, to whisper encouragement. No one to tell him they loved him.

  No one to wish him back.

  I flew up the stairs and into the condo.

  My parents were waiting for me in the kitchen, looking perturbed. "About time," my father snapped, wresting the car keys from my trembling hand. "Two days in a row, Kali? I don't know what's gotten into you!" He turned toward the door. "Come on, Diane. We're late enough as it is. Kali—we'll discuss this later."

  My mother stood still, studying me. I had no chance in a million of convincing her I was all right, even I wanted to, which I did not. My eyes were puffy as grapefruits. My every limb shook. There was no telling what my facial expression was conveying. My father might be capable of missing all those clues, but my mother took in every pathetic inch of me without missing a beat.

  "You'll have to go without me, Mitch," she said calmly.

  "What?" he whirled around. "Why?"

  "Tell them that Kali isn't feeling well."

  My father did look at me, then. And when he did, his expression changed instantly from exasperation to concern. "Well, I guess—. I mean, should I—"

  "You go," my mother said authoritatively. "We'll be all right."

  My father looked hesitantly from my mother to me. Then he gave us both a quick kiss on the cheek and departed.

  I swallowed. My mother merely stood and looked at me, waiting for me to begin.

  I couldn't imagine how.

  "Let's sit down," she suggested, gesturing toward the sofa.

  My legs wouldn't move. "I can't," I protested, my voice little more than a squeak. "I don't have time."

  My mother's eyebrows rose. "Time?"

  I nodded.

  They'll believe you, Kali, Zane's words echoed in my mind. And they can help you.

  "You were right, Mom," I began in a rush, hardly censoring the words as they spilled out. I didn't think I could tell her everything—not yet. But I could do a whole lot better than I had been.

  "I met someone here on the beach. We've been spending a lot of time together, and I know it hasn't been long, but I—I've come to really care about him."

  My mother's face remained expressionless. "Go on."

  "He's the one I was hanging out with at Turtle Bay, the only other tourist I've met. He's not dangerous—there's nothing wrong with him at all. In fact, I think you and dad would both really like him."

  "Kali," my mother broke in, her calm demeanor breaking at last. "Why were you keeping him a secret?"

  Another image flashed suddenly through my mind. On the way back from Turtle Bay yesterday, when his mind was idle, Zane had been wearing a hospital gown…

  "Mom," I said, my voice choking. "He's gone now. He left, but… he's been in a car accident—back on the mainland."

  Her eyes widened. "Already?"

  "I know it doesn't make sense!" I blurted, tears spurting from my eyes again. "You couldn't possibly understand unless I told you the whole story, and I will; I promise I will. He wanted me to tell you. But I can't tell you everything now, because I have to get back home. As soon as I can. I have to be with him. He's dying, Mom!"

  My mother's face contorted with a series of emotions, not least of which was annoyance. "Kali," she said finally, her voice poorly controlled. "You can't possibly go back to Cheyenne now, all by yourself. I thought you were enjoying Oahu!"

  "I love everything about Oahu!" I nearly shouted. "Because of him! And if I don't get back to the mainland soon, and help him, he may never see it again himself!"

  She exhaled. Long and slow. "You are telling me that you met a guy… wait, how old is he?"

  "Eighteen," I answered quickly.

  "A teenager," she continued, "and you kept him a secret from us, for reasons you still can't explain, but in a few short days you've come to care about him so much that you're willing to give up the rest of your time in Oahu so you can fly back home and hold his hand in the hospital?"

  "Yes," I said heavily. "I'm not making this up, Mom. I swear. For a while I thought he had died in the accident—that's why I've been falling apart. But he didn't… he's still alive. At least he was. I mean… I don't know! Don't you see, he could die at any moment! That's why I have to fly back now!"

  I flung out my last words, exhausted. There was nothing left to say. If I tried to explain the shadows to her now, in the state I was in, I knew I would never make it back to him. She wouldn't put me on a plane—she would probably drug me and put me to bed. Getting a grasp on that whole realm of surreality was something that would take time I simply didn't have. And I couldn't do without my parents' help; it wasn't possible. I had no money for a plane ticket; I didn't even have a credit card.

  "Please, mom," I begged. "I'm telling you the truth. Just help me switch my ticket to today—I'll take the first flight out."

  My next words were barely audible. They came out as a breathy rasp. "He needs me."

  Looking in my mother's eyes then, I knew what odds I was facing. She had little reason to believe me, and a hundred thousand good-parenting reasons for forbidding me to fly across an ocean by myself.

  "What’s his name?" she said flatly, unexpectedly.

  "Zane," I answered, enjoying the sound of the word even as it reached my ears, reveling in how nice it felt to voice it to someone real, out loud.

  Her eyes searched mine again, and I knew that she was looking far deeper than the past few days. Covering up the shadows was an unfortunate art form I'd been forced to adopt, but other than that, I had always been honest with her. Lying was not in my nature. And as I stood there, awaiting her verdict, I realized how very much that mattered. When every other girl in the ninth grade had told her parents she was going to a sleepover, I had admitted we had tickets to a concert in Denver. When I was ten and spilled root beer on my best friend's father's laptop, I had confessed—even though he had blamed their cat. And when I had promised my dad last New Years that I would leave a friend's party if any booze or drugs showed up, and both did, I had left.

  Miserable experiences, all. The concert didn't happen; my friends were furious. I lost my allowance for months. My New Years sucked. I wasn't so sure I had made the right calls then, but I did not regret my honesty now.

  What mattered to me most in the world was riding on it.

  My mother's gaze didn't waver. I held my breath.

  She let out a long, resigned sounding sigh.

  "All right, Kali. I'll change your ticket. You can fly back home."

  Chapter 23

  My mother pulled out her cell phone. I went into my room to pack. When I came back out with my suitcase she was just finishing a call.

  "We can get you on a midafternoon flight," she said uncertainly. "But it would get into Denver in the middle of the night."
r />   "That's fine," I said quickly. "Did you book it?"

  My mother leaned heavily against the counter. "We have to think this through, Kali. You do remember that we have no car at the airport?"

  Crap.

  How could I forget? My dad had a thing about paying for parking. He never drove to the airport if he could hitch a ride, which he always managed to do. We had ridden all the way down to Denver on the trip out by cramming into the back of an SUV driven by a buddy of his who happened to be a traveling dog food salesman. My suitcase still reeked of kibble.

  "I can get a ride," I said confidently.

  "From who?"

  "Kylee."

  My mother frowned. "All the way from Cheyenne to Denver and back? At that hour?"

  I drew in a breath, sharply. Kylee had her own car. She liked to drive; she was good at it. Unfortunately, she was not a morning person.

  With luck, we could be home by morning.

  "That's an awful lot to ask, Kali," my mother pointed out. "You'd need to call her, right now. I'm not booking a ticket unless I know you can get back to Cheyenne safely. You're going to be exhausted after the flight—you shouldn't be driving yourself anyway. Which brings us to our next—"

  I was already dialing. Kylee's ever-cheerful soprano picked up on the second ring.

  "Girlfriend!!! What's up?!"

  "Hi Kylee," I began, trying hard to slow my breathing. "Listen, I don't have a lot of time to explain, but I need a favor."

  "Name it!"

  I love you.

  "I'm flying back to Denver this afternoon—I'll get there late tonight."

  There was a momentary silence.

  "You're leaving early?" she asked incredulously. "What happened? Is something wrong?"

  I took a deep breath. "A friend of mine was in a car accident—a bad one. I have to get to him as soon as possible."

  Another span of silence followed. I could picture Kylee easily; eyes wide, mouth open. "Him? Who are you talking about? Somebody I know?"

  "No," I said quickly. "I met him here in Oahu. Listen Kylee, I can explain later—but the thing is, I don't have a ride home from the airport. I know it's a lot to ask, but is there any way your parents would let you drive to Denver to get me?"

  "Where is he?"

  I blinked. "What?"

  "I said, 'where is he?' This guy—if you met him in Oahu, what's he doing in Cheyenne?"

  A wave of cold, fringed with nausea, swept viciously from my head to my toes.

  Holy crap.

  I had no idea. I could only think one step at a time—getting back to the mainland was as far as I'd gotten.

  "Where is he?" I repeated dumbly.

  From her position by the counter, my mother let out a frustrated sigh. "That was my next question."

  My brain searched desperately for an answer. "He's… I…"

  Think, Kali!

  "I don't know the exact hospital. I just know he was in an accident. But I'll find him."

  Kylee responded patiently. "Are we talking… say… Wyoming?"

  "I don't know!" I cried, my voice close to breaking again. "Please Kylee, can you pick me up at the airport or not?"

  She wouldn't answer. "This isn't the jock, is it?"

  "No!" I said, giving my foot a useless stamp on the condo carpet. "It's the surfer guy—" I paused a second. Even saying the words brought heat to my stinging eyes. "The one with the curly hair."

  I moved the phone away from my ear.

  Kylee shrieked profanity across the Pacific.

  "Will you pick me up?" I pressed.

  "Are you kidding? You know I will," Kylee affirmed, her voice charged with determined energy. "Don't worry, Kali. We'll find him. How bad was the accident?"

  "It was bad," I murmured, "Really bad."

  My beloved pal didn't miss a beat.

  "Text me before you take off; give me the arrival time. I'll be there. And Kali?"

  I let out a sniffle.

  "Call Tara. She can figure out what hospital he's in."

  Tara! Of course.

  I found my voice and thanked Kylee profusely.

  We hung up.

  I looked at my mother with something resembling a smile. "All set. Can we book it now? Don't I have to leave soon?"

  Her lips twisted. "That's another issue, I'm afraid. Your father won't be back with the car for at least another hour. I'm not sure we can get you to Honolulu in time—it would be really close. It would be safer to book the next flight."

  "When does that one leave?"

  "Ten-thirty tonight."

  "No!" I ran my hands through my curls—or tried to. I hadn't brushed them in so long my fingers hardly moved. "Mom," I begged, "I can't lose that much time!"

  The front doorbell rang. We both ignored it.

  "I don't see that you have much choice, Kali," my mother said quietly. "I'm sorry, but a cab from here would be way too expensive, and even if we reached your father at the restaurant and begged him to start out now, you'd still be cutting it close. Particularly when you can never tell about the traffic."

  A shadow drifted through my mother and across the room, and I fought down an irrational urge to scream at her. She was a pretty young woman wearing a yellow peignoir, and she radiated romantic notions like living women smelled of perfume. She had amused me in the past, but now her presence was irritating in the extreme.

  "Can't we try, mom?" I begged. "Please?"

  The doorbell rang again.

  A niggling memory shot through my flustered brain.

  "What time is it?" I asked.

  "Noon," my mother answered.

  I flew into the hallway and swung open the door.

  I had never been so simultaneously excited—and painfully sorry—to see anyone in my entire life.

  ***

  We stopped for fast food in Haleiwa. It was not the lunch Matt had hoped for, but his determination not to show it tugged my heartstrings like lead.

  "I'm really sorry about the change in plans," I said again, looking at my fries without appetite. "I feel terrible about asking you for a ride, but you have no idea how important—"

  "Will you stop apologizing?" he said lightly, in between bites of the burger he balanced on his lap as he drove. "I was taking you to Honolulu anyway. I'm just sorry you're leaving."

  "I'm not leaving forever," I said quickly. "I really love it here. I can't wait to get back."

  He smiled. "Really?"

  "Really," I said sincerely.

  His brow creased slightly. "This friend of yours… you didn't mention him before."

  My heartbeat quickened. I hated this. I had never intended to be dishonest with Matt about Zane. I had never thought Zane was alive.

  "No," I said vaguely.

  "Well," Matt asked simply, "Is he your boyfriend?"

  An uncomfortable lump rose in my throat, and my stomach churned. I could not finish the fries in my lap if my life depended on it.

  "No," I answered. The words were perfectly honest, even if I did stammer in saying them. "I would have told you if… I mean, when you and I went out, he and I were just friends."

  I was splitting hairs on the timing and the verb tenses, but I hoped he wouldn't notice. He had assumed that my "friend on the mainland" was someone from Cheyenne, and neither I nor my mother had corrected him. What else could he think, when the truth was too ridiculous for words? That just last night, I had sort of kissed this other guy, but that it didn't count, because I thought he was dead?

  I could not tell if Matt was bothered by my verb tenses or not. He looked thoughtful for a moment, but made no comment. All he did was take another bite of burger.

  I fidgeted in the seat. My cell phone was burning a hole in my pocket—I had to talk to Tara. I hadn't gotten a chance since Matt arrived, and every second counted. But how could I say what I needed to say in front of him?

  Texting everything would take forever, but I had no choice. Once I got on the plane, I'd be out of touch for the rest of
the day.

  "Do you mind if I text someone?" I asked Matt, still feeling guilty every time I looked at him. "I don't know what hospital he's in yet—but I'm hoping my friend Tara can find out for me."

  He shrugged. "Sure, go ahead."

  My fingers flew across the keys.

  NEED HELP FAST! Friend in hospital. Don't know where. Was in car accident recently. Name Zane Svenson.

  Mercifully, I had to wait only seconds.

  Kylee told me. How recently? You have a state?

  I let out a long, relieved breath. God bless Tara. Not only was she at whiz at researching just about anything on the internet, but her father was an assistant police chief and her mother was a state trooper. The girl had connections.

  She would find him. She would.

  Even if it might be a little harder than she expected.

  Don't know how long. Location probably on interstate, somewhere between Hackensack NJ and Malibu CA. THANKS!!!

  Less than a minute later, my phone rang. I threw a weak, apologetic look at Matt and picked it up.

  "Hello?"

  "Are you insane?" Tara's gruff alto bellowed. "Between Hackensack and Malibu? With no date?"

  "I'm sorry, Tara," I said as softly as I could manage, knowing it was pointless. I couldn't possibly talk low enough for her to hear me without Matt overhearing also. "That's all I know."

  "You must know something else!" she insisted. "Think hard. Anything. How old is he? What are his parents' names? What kind of car was he driving?"

  I thought. "He's eighteen. His dad's last name was Svenson too—I don't know his first name. His mother was Alisha Bayne. She was an actress. But they're both dead now. I have no idea about the car. Does any of that help?"

  There was a pause. I could hear the clicking of a keyboard in the background. "A famous actress? Like, a professional?"

  "Yes. He said she was on a soap opera."

  Matt cast a glance sideways and looked at me oddly.

  What little lunch I had consumed curdled in my gut. Could this get any more awkward?