"What they found?"
She smiles, a pitying expression that does nothing for her features. "Just be patient."
If there's anything I know, it's patience.
She leaves a few moments later. As soon as the door closes I swing my legs over the side of the bed and try to sit up, but the tangle of wires and tubes keep me in place. They also set off a new chorus of beeps and a particularly frightening alarm.
A stream of doctors and nurses crowd the room, followed by Mom and Dad, who stop in the doorway. I'm poked and jostled, but I don't feel any needles so I bite my tongue and wait for them to finish. Soon the beeping returns to normal and they file from the room.
All but one man, who I realize I know. Even without the EMT uniform.
"Martinez?"
He settles into the chair Cameron had been in minutes earlier. "Hi, Biz. I bet you didn't expect to see me here."
I glance at Mom and Dad, who are still hovering much too far away. "Do they have to wait over there?"
"No, of course not." He waves them closer and they press against the opposite side of the bed. Mom clutches my bandaged hand while Dad rests a shaky hand on my shoulder. "Your father found you collapsed in your home on Saturday and brought you here. Because of your history of headaches we did a CT-scan and found an abnormally large mass in your temporal lobe. My team agreed the mass was potentially life-threatening and had to be removed.
"The operation went smoothly. We won't have biopsy result for several more days, but so far your vitals have steadily improved and you should be released in about a week."
I touch Dad's fingers but continue to look at the doctor. "What does this mean for me?"
He straightens. "We're hopeful it means the end of your headaches. We'll continue to monitor you for quite some time, but I'm optimistic this will be the last time we'll see you in here."
Something still isn't making sense. "I thought you were an EMT."
He smiles. "Not exactly. I ride with the EMTs from time to time. It was part of our training in med school and I like the change of scenery." He shrugs, completely unapologetic for his deception. "I suspected something was wrong with you but thought if you knew I was a real doctor, you wouldn't listen to me."
"That's true." He still seems too young to be a brain doctor. "So you… fixed me?" A lump forms in my throat and I fight back tears. Right when I was beginning to accept that what I'd always thought of as a condition was something more, something that could actually help other people, it's gone.
After Dr. Martinez leaves, Mom goes on a coffee run, passing Cameron in the doorway. I haven't fully wrapped my mind around the idea that I can't flicker, but they seem to have something else on their minds.
Dad leans close and squeezes my hand. "Biz, honey, you did it."
I look back and forth between them. Cameron smiles down at me, and I'm taken aback by the change in him. A light shines from within him. "You look so… happy."
"That's because I am. Biz, they caught him. Because of you."
My head whips to Dad.
"I filled him in while you were unconscious. I wasn't sure if you told him a second time, but since you trusted him enough to tell him once, I thought you'd be okay with me telling him again."
I nod.
Cameron continues. "The police staked out the park and caught him trying to take a little girl." He shakes his head, a dazed look on his face. “I still can’t believe it was Turner.”
I touch the cut on my face. “Yeah, I know.”
Dad covers my hand with his. “The police said that he snapped when Jessica disappeared. They think he took the girls in some warped attempt to fix whatever he screwed up with his daughter.”
Something still feels off. “So who’s the guy I kept seeing?”
“He really was someone’s dad, but not the way we thought.” Cameron says. “His daughter disappeared a few years ago and when he heard about the kidnappings, he came here to… I don’t know…”
“He said he hoped there was a connection to his daughter,” Dad explains.
That explains the horrible expression on his face. “Do the police know what happened to the other girls?"
They exchange a look and Cameron sinks into a chair next to the bed. He clasps my hand, a broad smile lighting his face. "They found Katie."
My gaze whips between them. "Alive?"
They nod.
"But how? Where has she been?" When I set out to stop the kidnapper I thought if we were lucky, we’d find out what happened to Katie. I never in a million years imagined they’d find her alive.
Dad clears his throat. "Turner and his wife kept them in a cabin out in the woods a couple hours from here. They found three other girls with Katie."
"What did he—" I stop. I shouldn’t ask that. Not yet. "Is she… okay?"
He rests his forehead on the bed. "It’s too soon to tell. Physically she seems healthy, but the doctors…" he trails off.
Dad touches my other hand. "She has a long recovery ahead of her."
The ache in my chest slowly shifts. It doesn’t go away completely, but my breath comes a little easier. I squeeze Cameron’s hand. "So she’s really home?"
He looks up. Tears shine in his eyes. "All because of you."
I want to be happy. My plan worked. And any doubt about Cameron’s involvement with Katie’s disappearance are over. But I still have so many questions. Most importantly. "Does everyone know what I did?"
Dad touches the side of my face. "Nobody knows but us."
Chapter 39
ONE MONTH LATER
I'm standing in front of school, waiting for Mom to pick me up for an appointment with Dr. Martinez. Getting back into my routine hasn't been as difficult as I expected. Sure, it sucks that my long hair is gone, but not having headaches more than makes up for the unexpected ‘do. Stride Right insisted I get tutors for Trig and English so I wouldn't fall any further behind, and as much as I can't stand him, it's kind of bizarre to have him looking out for me.
I'm still not driving, but between Cameron and Amelia I've been getting around okay. Dr. Martinez doesn't want me doing much, so I'm spending more and more time taking photos. The shot of Turner—the one that led to all this—never saw the light of day because I never returned to the park to take it. That was the day the police staked him out and my head nearly exploded.
I haven't been by the Strand yet. Or any other place where I've flickered. What's the point?
Although that's a little hard to do when I have to be ferried around by Mom, who's pulling up now.
"Sorry I'm late," she says as I climb into the car. "I had to juggle my lunch hour with one of the other women and she was late coming back."
"It's okay, Mom. We have plenty of time." I lean my head against the seat and close my eyes to the outside world. The trees make me the saddest. Even when it's cloudy, they remind me of everything that's been taken away from me.
The radio comes on and Mom's golden oldies fill the car. I open my eyes for the sole purpose to roll them, and am startled by the flickering light. I look around. We're in the Strand. Mom doesn't know anything about my ability so to her the Strand is just another stretch of road. I've never told her to avoid it.
The contrast between light and dark grows stronger, faster, and I close my eyes. A tear leaks out the corner. I lift my hand to wipe it before Mom sees, but freeze with my hand in front of my face.
I open my eyes.
Squeeze my fingers together.
And they start to tingle.
THE END
Acknowledgments
(also knows as my giant list of thank yous)
First and foremost, I’d like to thank my grandmother, Marian Walker, to whom this book is dedicated. The idea of FLICKER came to me while caring for her in the hospital, and a year later she read a draft, even though she’s hardly my target audience.
Special thanks to: Stacey Graham, the best cheerleader and weird-hat-wearing friend a girl could ask for (will you
please adopt me and add me to your brood?); Jason Tudor, my partner-in-tattoo and quieter cheerleader; Kristine McCombs, for sitting by my side while I finished the first draft; Scott Browne, my unintentional word-war partner who kept me going during NaNo; Natasha Fondren, the ebook formatting wizard who baby-stepped me through the technical side of things; and Erica Orloff, for freaking out when I shared my pitch and giving me the idea that this might be a story worth telling.
Thank you to my beta-readers: Nadine Semerau, my first—and most enthusiastic—reader, who never lost faith in me and withheld inspirational poems until I really, really needed one; Valerie Kramin, without you Katie’s story would have ended much differently; June “Bug” Kramin, your persistence has paid off; Rowyn Graham, your excitement in the story kept me going; Terri Lynn Coop, your brutal honesty made FLICKER the best it could be; and Erica Chapman, the absolute best writing friend ANYONE could have. Your plotting madness and determination that I make the one character who I had a soft spot for evil locked it all into place.
To my parents, Gary and Judy Hooyenga, for supporting me no matter what and reading a young adult novel more times than you probably care to.
For Jeremy, who wasn’t in my life when I wrote FLICKER, but asked to read it very early in our relationship and has kept me going ever since.
Finally, to my Sisterhood of Snark. I would have cracked a long time ago without you by my side.
About the Author
Melanie Hooyenga has lived in Washington DC, Chicago, and Mexico, but has finally settled down in her home state of Michigan with her new husband Jeremy. When not at her day job as a graphic designer, you can find Melanie attempting to wrangle her Miniature Schnauzer Owen and kicking Jeremy’s butt at Kinect boxing.
Next from Melanie Hooyenga
FRACTURE
Going back in time can’t always save the future.
Flicker Page 20
