Hannah steps off the elevator and spots us. Her face falls into a frown as she approaches. She holds up an apple. “I thought you might be hungry, Dez, but apparently you’re busy.”
Charlie slides around the table, but it’s too late. Damage done. “Hannah—”
“We were finishing our game from last night,” I say.
Hannah won’t look at me.
I step over to her and whisper in her ear. “It’s just a game. Nothing else, I promise.”
She plasters a smile on her face that isn’t fooling anyone. “I’ll see you at Morning Meditation.” She turns to leave.
I move to follow her, and am overcome with a feeling like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It’s like a crushing blow to the stomach without the physical pain, like skipping straight to the aftershock. I double over and fall to my knees, gasping for air that isn’t there. Terror rips through me.
I can’t speak.
Can’t think.
A scream builds in my lungs, but nothing comes out. The room spins and shifts, threatening to throw me into a cosmic wasteland.
I have a flash of lying next to the crumpled wreck of my mom’s car.
Did that really happen?
“We didn’t get to her soon enough, and her injuries were too severe. I’m so sorry. We did everything we could.”
Hannah’s next to me.
I died yesterday. That’s what Crosby told me.
Someone squeezes my hand.
Voices I don’t recognize speak in worried whispers.
Mom screams. Dad takes her in his arms as they crumple to the floor.
Where are they?
“Somebody get Franklin. Call Kay, too.”
“No!” she wails. Her screams are primal, like a wounded animal. “Please, no!”
“Dez, can you hear me?”
Someone is there with them. There’s a hand on my dad’s shoulder. “Not my Dez, Doug. Please. Please tell me this isn’t real. It has to be someone else.”
“Somebody get me a pillow.”
What’s happening?
The hand squeezes. My dad chokes on his tears, gagging on the anguish bubbling out of him like a fountain.
“You’re going to be okay, Dez. Crosby’s on his way.”
A group of my friends stand near my parents, their faces heavy with shock and sorrow as they try to console each other. Katie and Ava cling together, sobbing.
I have no idea how much time has passed.
Someone’s put a pillow under my head.
That’s thoughtful.
Can you puke when you’re dead? I don’t want to know, but it feels like I might find out.
I’m shaking.
“Dez? You’re going to be okay, kiddo.”
Crosby’s here.
I curl up in a ball and howl. There are at least a dozen people standing around me, but I don’t care.
All I can feel is horror.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I’m not on the floor anymore. Someone’s tucked me under the covers in a bed. The room is dark and quiet.
The psych ward again?
Apprehension sends my heart racing.
Voices nearby speak in hushed tones. Hannah. Crosby.
“Is she going to be okay?” Hannah asks.
He tells her I will, in fact, be fine.
Good to know.
My body is leaden. Sitting up is impossible. My eyes adjust to the darkness, and I realize I’m in our suite. Someone has drawn the curtains over the picture windows.
I don’t even have the energy to want my life back. Has the fight gone out of me so soon? I’ve only been here a day. Then again, maybe I’ve never been anywhere else, and this is all that has ever been.
Get up. You’re clearly losing your damn mind.
This time I manage a louder groan.
“She’s awake,” Hannah says.
Someone switches on a lamp, bathing the space in a warm glow.
Crosby sits down in a chair next to me. “You gave everybody a good scare.”
“What happened?” I croak.
“Remember yesterday when I mentioned link-bursts?”
“That was a link-burst?” My head throbs. I rub my eyes in an effort to unfuzz the room. “What the hell? Why didn’t you warn me? All you said was that they make you a little queasy.”
“Usually they do. A reaction like yours … ” He shakes his head. “It’s one in a million.”
“I guess I hit the jackpot, then.” I struggle to sit up.
Hannah opens the curtains before joining Crosby at my bedside. She helps prop me up with some extra pillows.
“What exactly are link-bursts, anyway?” I ask Crosby. “You never really said much, beyond ‘it’s a burst of energy.’”
Hannah shrugs. “I’ve never seen one.”
Crosby sits back, getting comfortable in his seat. “When we die, a thread of energy remains connected to the living world. Following me so far?”
Hannah and I nod in unison.
“Those we are closest to are tuned in to our energy, creating a harmonization on the same frequency. This harmonization is what we call love. When we die, their energy seeks out what’s missing. In the immediate aftermath of death, the pain of the people closest to us can transmit across that thread. The bursts usually leave you feeling light-headed or queasy. The worst episodes can knock you flat for a while.”
How long have I been out? I drag a heavy arm to my face to inspect my bracelet.
“Don’t worry about that.” Crosby takes my wrist and lays my arm back down on the bed. “Did you see anything? Flashes of family or friends?”
I collapse back against the pillows. “Someone was telling my mom and dad I died. They were in the hospital, I think. My friends were all there.”
Crosby nods. “The worst cases can be accompanied by visions.”
“If you had told me link-bursts could be that bad—”
“You’d still be with Kay, because you would have been even more freaked out.”
“Is this because of that procedure? Whatever they did to me?”
“No, the link-burst is a completely different thing.”
A thick haze muddies my thoughts. I try to shake off the fog, but it won’t lift. “It came out of nowhere.”
“That’s how they happen. No warning. And they can come at any time, without relation to the timing of the triggering event in the living world.”
“I’m not going to have another one, am I?”
“You shouldn’t."
“Gee, that’s comforting.”
“If it does happen, it won’t be anywhere near as bad. I promise. Have you been working on the three A’s?”
“The what?”
“Adapt, accept, acknowledge?”
“Oh, that. Yeah, I’ve totally been working on it.”
Crosby’s expression turns stern. “Dez … ”
“No lectures right now, okay? I just want to get vertical again.” I force myself to sit up. “I think I’ve been knocked on my ass enough for one twenty-four hour period.”
“Let’s take things nice and slow.” Crosby treats me like I’m made of glass as he helps me up.
My legs hang over the side of the bed. “If I haven’t shattered into a million pieces yet, I don’t think I’m going to.”
At least the room’s stopped spinning.
“Okay, tough girl. How do you feel?”
“Not great, but it beats the fetal position.”
Crosby turns to Hannah. “Can you go find Franklin and let him know Dez is up?”
“Sure.” The door closes behind her.
I’m torn between my lingering resentment and my desperate need for comfort. “I’m already so tired of this.” It’s a struggle to get the words past the grapefruit-sized lump in my throat.
“Tired of what?” Crosby moves to sit next to me on the edge of the bed.
“All of it.” I lean against the stack of pillows. “I just want it to stop. I want normal ba
ck.”
“This is the new normal. It’s what you have to work on accepting.”
“I want to go home,” I say, half wishing, half demanding.
“Home doesn’t exist for you anymore, sweetie. This is your reality, and there’s no going back.”
“Is this some retribution for not believing? Is that it? The faithful are welcomed with open arms, but the skeptics get a good kick when they’re down?”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
I look up at the ceiling. “Why are you doing this to me? Some petty revenge for not believing in you?” My hands tighten into fists. My voice quavers, escalating to a shout. “If you’re in charge, you made me this way, so it’s really your fault! You ever think of that?” My vision grows watery.
“Try to remember this place isn’t forever,” Crosby says. “You’re only in a holding pattern. You’ll see your mom and dad, your family, all your friends again. It’ll just be a while.”
“So I get to wait around for everyone I care about to die? What kind of person do you think I am?”
“A girl in a lot of pain who thinks she’s alone.” He points toward the door. “But when you go out there, you’ll find fifteen other kids from all walks of life who know exactly how you feel.”
My back stiffens. “Fourteen. One of them is a complete jackass who doesn’t seem to understand what it is to be a decent human being.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Got him figured out already, huh?”
“Some people are open books. The fact that you know exactly who I’m talking about without a name or description proves my point.”
Crosby ignores my jab. “You ready to go?”
“I guess so.”
His hand supports my elbow as I wobble to my feet. “Let’s get out of here.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
An audience has gathered in the common area. Two guys are playing air hockey, and two more stand nearby, watching. Four girls occupy a pair of couches on either side of a big coffee table. Hannah is near the edge of the library, talking with identical twins.
Twins? What are the odds?
Shawn and Bobby sit at a nearby table. Shawn offers a friendly smile when he spots me. Bobby is oblivious, his nose buried in a book.
Herc sits alone and sullen in a chair in a corner.
Crosby clears his throat as we approach. “Okay everyone, I know you’ve got to get to Morning Meditation, but I need your attention over here for a minute.”
Oh, god, here we go.
Crosby grabs my hand and pulls me forward to face the Atman Inquisition. “First off, for those who don’t know, this is Dez. She’s had a pretty rough morning, so please be considerate. Introduce yourselves. Be welcoming.”
I take a step back, grabbing Crosby’s arm tight as the electric grip of panic sends my mind’s wheels spinning.
No. No way. Do I really want a bunch of dead friends?
He drags me forward without missing a beat. “Be sure to check your message centers in a couple of hours. I’m going to be sending you informational pamphlets on link-bursts. You can get in touch with me or any member of the SGA staff if you have any questions. Anyone have any right now?”
The room is silent.
“Okay, then.” Crosby pats me on the back after extracting himself from my iron grip. “Go mingle.” He gives me a little push toward the group.
“Where are you going?”
“Not far. I’ll be joining you all for a bit this morning.” Crosby walks over to Herc and takes the open seat next to him. He reaches over to clap him on the shoulder, but Herc wraps his arms around a throw pillow and sinks low in his chair, glowering.
A man in his late forties steps up, looking completely out of place with his casual Friday appearance and head of gray hair. He has an easy gait that exudes confidence and purpose. He offers me a warm handshake.
“Hi, Dez, I’m Franklin, the floor advisor here on ninety-five. You feeling better?”
I nod. “A bit.”
“Good to hear. Well, we don’t stand on ceremony. We just throw you in the deep end.”
Great. Let’s just jump right into this nightmare.
The boys playing air hockey take seats at a table, and Hannah and the twins sit on the couches with the other group of girls.
“Why don’t you take a seat, and we’ll get started,” Franklin tells me.
The only open space left is on a loveseat next to Charlie.
Oh, boy.
Charlie pats the cushion, inviting me to sit. I hurry to the spot, trying to avoid eye contact with all these new people.
Franklin addresses Herc. “It’s your turn to recite the daily reflection, so why don’t you get us started?”
Herc scowls. “Pass.”
“Come on,” Franklin says. “You haven’t done it once. Just give it a try.”
Charlie and Herc exchange a look. “Do it,” Charlie mouths. Herc shakes his head.
“Herc?” Franklin’s expression turns stern. “Last chance. You are the controller of your fate.”
“Pass.”
“Suit yourself.” Franklin nods to Crosby.
Crosby stands. “On your feet, Herc.”
“Screw you.” Herc’s eyes glimmer with spite. “Oh, wait, you’d probably like that, right?”
Crosby ignores the jab. “Stand up.” He reaches for Herc’s arm.
“Don’t touch me,” Herc snaps. “I don’t want to catch what you have.”
Crosby takes a step toward him. He towers over Herc. “There are two ways we can do this, but the end result is going to be the same.”
Herc takes his time getting to his feet, a malicious smirk on his face. “All right, don’t get your panties in a wad.”
Crosby points toward the elevators. “Let’s go.”
We all watch in silence as Crosby escorts Herc off the floor. The moment the elevator doors open, everyone turns back to Franklin as though a collective case of amnesia swept through the group.
Franklin claps his hands together. “Let’s get back to business.” He scans the group, stopping on a brunette with long, straight hair and angular features. “Jessica, you want to fill in?”
“No problem,” she says with a prim smile. She clears her throat. “With open hearts and clear minds we march toward destiny, ever forward—a journey of one made strong by all.”
“Thank you, Jessica.” Franklin directs his attention back to the group. “This morning, we’re going to do a simple little exercise on the process of letting go. I want you all to close your eyes, get comfy, and open your minds.”
Everyone obeys, so I join them, settling back against the couch and pushing Herc and Crosby from my mind.
“Letting go is a big topic,” Franklin says, “but we’re going to focus in on one single thing today. I want you to search deep down in your hearts, in the darkest recesses of your minds, and find the one thing you’re most afraid of. Your biggest fear. Think about it. Let it in. Let it run a little wild in your imagination.”
Gravel digs into my cheek as the cold advances, spreading from my fingers and toes to my chest.
“Now repeat after me,” Franklin says. “You do not control me.”
“You do not control me,” the group repeats.
I can’t speak. I can’t breathe.
“I am my destiny. Fear does not determine my fate.”
The black washes over me, not just a color, but a sound. A rushing, churning din of terror.
My eyes dart open. I sit up with a gasp.
“Whatever you saw, Dez,” Franklin says, “I want you to close your eyes and let it back in.”
“No,” I say, trembling.
“Just try.”
“I can’t!” I jump up from the couch.
“Have a seat, Dez,” Franklin says, with very little niceness left in his voice.
“I—I need to get out of here.”
Charlie opens his eyes and reaches for me, but I flee, with the gazes of my new floormates burning
into my back.
I’m in a chair by a window. My knees are pulled up to my chest, and my feet balance on the edge of the seat cushion while I balance on the edge of sanity.
Footsteps approach.
A shiver runs up my back. No. Not Gideon again, please.
“Just go back, I’ve got this,” Charlie says in a whisper from an aisle over. “One of us hovering is bad enough.”
“She’s my roommate, Charlie. Your raging hormones can wait.”
“Knock it off, Hannah. You know me better than that.”
“Oh, do I?” She exhales hard. “Fine. Have it your way.”
Her stomping feet make a harsh echo in this quiet, tucked-away section of the library.
Charlie rounds the corner and spots me.
“I can’t do this, Charlie.” My voice shakes, sending a tremor from my scalp to my toes.
He sits on the floor at the foot of the chair. “It’s hard for everybody. Especially when you’re brand new.”
I hug my knees. “I don’t want to be here.”
“I know how overwhelmed you feel, but we only have a few minutes before … ” He glances down at his bracelet.
“Before what?” I ask.
“Just come back with me. Please?” He looks over his shoulder.
I follow his gaze. “What’s going to happen?”
His blue eyes are full of worry. “Franklin only gave me ten minutes to bring you back.”
“What happens in ten minutes?”
Charlie hesitates.
“Just tell me,” I say.
Anger flashes in his eyes. “He’s going to call for RPS. He was going to do it right away—we can’t throw off their precious schedule, after all—but I talked him into letting me find you.”
“They think I’m unstable, don’t they?”
Charlie helps me to my feet. His warm grasp leaves me torn between fear and excitement, dread and exhilaration. “Don’t worry about what they think. You’re going to be okay.” He steps back and glances over his shoulder again, still holding my hand. “We’re almost out of time. We’d better get back.”
“Everyone is going to think I’m a freak.”
Charlie smiles. “You’re barely a blip on the freak radar. Have you seen some of the people around here?”
Life, A.D. Page 8
