The Twilight
Page 19
He shrugged miserably. “That was nothing. What Jesse did—jumping through those flames—and he barely even knew you—”
“It’s all right, Paul,” I said. “Really.”
He didn’t look convinced. “Really?”
“Really,” I said, meaning it. Then I nodded toward the ladies’ room door. “Besides, I always thought you two are much better suited, anyway.”
“Yeah,” Paul said, following my gaze. “I guess.”
Then, to my surprise, he stuck out his right hand. “No hard feelings, Simon?”
I looked down at his hand. It seemed incredible, but I really didn’t have any. Hard feelings toward him, I mean. Not now. Not anymore.
I slipped my fingers into his.
“No hard feelings,” I said.
Then the bathroom door burst open and Kelly came out, her gait considerably altered because Sister Ernestine had stitched the slit in her dress to just above the knee.
Kelly had some pretty unpleasant things to say about the nun as she approached us.
“But at least she didn’t make you go home and change,” I interrupted her to point out.
Kelly just blinked at me. “Who’s that guy?” she wanted to know.
I looked over my shoulder. Jesse was approaching us from down the breezeway. My heart, as always when I saw him, turned over in my chest.
“Oh, him?” I said casually. “That’s just Jesse, my boyfriend.”
My boyfriend. My boyfriend.
Kelly’s eyes widened to their limits as Jesse stepped into the pool of moonlight in which we were standing, and took my hand.
“Paul,” he said with a nod.
“Hey, Jesse,” Paul said, looking uncomfortable. Then, remembering Kelly, he made uneasy introductions.
“Very nice to meet you,” Jesse said, shaking Kelly’s hand.
She, however, seemed too stunned to reply. She was just staring up at Jesse as if she’d seen…
Well, not a ghost, exactly. More like something she couldn’t quite understand. I could almost hear her wondering, What’s a guy like that doing with Suze Simon?
Hey, she didn’t know what I’d been through for the guy…or what he’d been through for me.
Trying not to look too smug, I took Jesse’s arm and said, “Well, see you around.” And led him to the dance floor.
“Things with Paul are… ?” Jesse raised his eyebrows questioningly as I slid my arms around his neck.
“Fine,” I said.
“And you know that because… ?”
“He told me.”
“And you believe him?”
“You know what?” I lifted my head from where I’d been resting it on Jesse’s shoulder. “I do.”
“I see.” Jesse stood there as I swayed to the music. “Susannah? What are you doing?”
“I’m dancing with you.”
Jesse looked down at our feet, but couldn’t see them, because my long skirt was swaying above them.
“I don’t know this dance,” he said.
“It’s easy,” I said. I let go of his neck and took his hands and brought them around my waist. Then I put my arms back around his neck. “Now sway.”
Jesse swayed.
“See?” I said. “You’re doing it.”
Jesse’s voice in my ear sounded a bit strangled. “What’s this dance called?” he asked.
“Slow,” I said. “It’s called a slow dance.”
Jesse didn’t say anything much after that. He really was catching on fast to twenty-first-century social customs.
I don’t know how much later it was that I lifted my head and saw my dad standing there.
This time, I didn’t jump out of my skin. I’d sort of been expecting to see him.
“Hey, kiddo,” he said.
I stopped dancing and said to Jesse, “Could you just excuse me a minute? There’s just somebody I have to, um, have a word with.”
Jesse smiled. “Of course.”
My heart swelling with adoration for him, I hurried over to the palm tree my dad was lurking behind.
“Hey,” I said to him, a little breathlessly. “You came.”
“Of course I came,” Dad said. “My little girl’s first real dance? You think I’d miss it?”
“That’s not why I’m glad you came,” I said, reaching out to take his hand. “I wanted to say thanks.”
“Thanks?” Dad looked bewildered. “For what?”
“For what you did for Jesse.”
“For Jesse?” Then comprehension dawned and he made as if to drop my hand, looking embarrassed. “Oh. That.”
“Yes, that,” I said, holding his fingers more tightly. “Dad, Jesse told me. If you hadn’t made him come to the hospital when you did, I’d have lost him forever.”
“Well,” he said, looking as if he wished he were some-place—anyplace—else. In fact, he looked… well, almost as if he already were someplace else. He was much less opaque than usual. “I mean, you were crying. And calling me. When it was Jesse you should have been calling.”
“I thought Jesse was gone,” I said. “So I called you. Because you’ve always been there when I really needed you. And you were there for me then, too. You saved him, Dad. And I just wanted to let you know how much that meant to me. Especially since I know you didn’t agree with my going—you know—in the first place.”
My dad reached up to straighten my orchid. But for some reason, instead of being able to grab onto it, his fingers seemed to go right through the waxy petals. Suddenly, I realized what was happening. And there was nothing I could do but stand there, looking up at him, tears gathering beneath my eyelids.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Dad went on, meaning our disagreement about my going back through time to “save” Jesse. He was growing physically fainter and fainter with every word. And it wasn’t just because I was looking at him through a veil of tears. “It’s just that if you’d gone back and saved my life, it would have been like… well, like I’d died—and been hanging around for the past ten years for nothing.”
“It wasn’t for nothing, Dad,” I said, holding as tightly as I could to the hand that, even as I spoke, I could feel slipping away. “It was for Jesse. And for me. That’s why you’re finally ready to move on. See for yourself.”
Dad looked down at himself and then at me, clearly stunned.
“It’s okay, Dad,” I said, reaching up with my free hand to wipe the tears from my face.
He was almost impossible to see now… just a shimmer of color and light, and a faint pressure on my hand. But I could tell he was grinning. Grinning and crying at the same time. Just like I was. “I’ll miss you.”
“Take care of your mother for me,” he said quickly, as if he were afraid of being snatched away before he could get the words out.
“I will,” I promised.
“And be good,” he said.
“Am I ever anything but?” I asked, my voice breaking.
Then, with a shimmer, he disappeared.
Forever.
It was a long time before I could go back to where Jesse was standing. I’d had to cry for a while behind one of the palm trees, then repair the damage those tears had done with the makeup from my bag. When I finally returned to Jesse’s side, he looked down at me, and smiled.
“He’s gone?” he asked.
“He’s gone,” I said automatically. Then I gasped.
“Jesse…” I stared up at him. “Can you… did you…?”
“See you talking to your father just then?” he asked, the corners of his lips twitching a little. “Yes.”
“Then you can…” I was completely dumbfounded. “You can…”
“See and speak to ghosts?” Jesse grinned in the moonlight. “Apparently so. Why? Is that a problem?”
“No. Except that… that would mean—” I could barely believe what I was saying. “That means you’re a—”
“Querida,” Jesse said, pulling me toward him. “Let’s just dance.”
; But I was still too stunned to think of anything else. Jesse—my Jesse—was no longer a ghost. He was a mediator.
Like me.
“The only thing I don’t understand,” Jesse was saying, his breath warm in my ear, “is why it took him all this time.”
I swayed in Jesse’s arms, barely registering what he was saying. Jesse is a mediator, was all I could think. Jesse’s a mediator now.
“Your father,” Jesse said. “His moving on, I mean. Why now?”
I put my arms around his neck. What else could I do?
“Do you really not know?” I asked him.
He shook his head.
I smiled because I felt as if my heart might burst with joy.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to Beth Ader, Jennifer Brown, Laura Langlie, Abigail McAden, and especially Benjamin Egnatz, as well as all of the readers who supported this series from the beginning.
About the Author
MEG CABOT is the author of many best-selling, critically acclaimed books for teens, including the Mediator series, the 1-800-Where-R-You series, the Princess Diaries series, ALL-AMERICAN GIRL, and TEEN IDOL, as well as NICOLA AND THE VISCOUNT and VICTORIA AND THE ROGUE. When she is not reliving the horror that was her high school experience, she also writes books for adults, including the boy next door, boy meets girl, and every boy’s got one. She currently lives in New York City with her husband and a one-eyed cat named Henrietta.
Visit meg’s website at : www.megcabot.com.
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Books by Meg Cabot
THE MEDIATOR 1: SHADOWLAND
THE MEDIATOR 2: NINTH KEY
THE MEDIATOR 3: REUNION
THE MEDIATOR 4: DARKEST HOUR
THE MEDIATOR 5: HAUNTED
THE MEDIATOR 6: TWILIGHT
THE PRINCESS DIARIES
THE PRINCESS DIARIES, VOLUME II: PRINCESS IN THE SPOTLIGHT
THE PRINCESS DIARIES, VOLUME III: PRINCESS IN LOVE
THE PRINCESS DIARIES, VOLUME IV: PRINCESS IN WAITING THE PRINCESS DIARIES, VOLUME IV AND A HALF: PROJECT PRINCESS
THE PRINCESS DIARIES, VOLUME V: PRINCESS IN PINK
THE PRINCESS DIARIES, VOLUME VI: PRINCESS IN TRAINING
THE PRINCESS PRESENT: A PRINCESS DIARIES BOOK
PRINCESS LESSONS: A PRINCESS DIARIES BOOK
PERFECT PRINCESS: A PRINCESS DIARIES BOOK
ALL-AMERICAN GIRL
TEEN IDOL
NICOLA AND THE VISCOUNT
VICTORIA AND THE ROGUE
THE BOY NEXT DOOR
BOY MEETS GIRL
EVERY BOY’S GOT ONE
THE 1-800-WHERE-R-YOU BOOKS:
WHEN LIGHTNING STRIKES
CODE NAME CASSANDRA
SAFE HOUSE
SANCTUARY
Credits
Cover art © 2005 by Paul Oakley
Cover design by Sasha Illingworth
Cover © 2005 by HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.
Copyright
The author wishes to acknowledge that while she did live for a time in Carmel, California, and attended the Junipero Serra Mission School, she has taken liberties with certain other facts, including, but not exclusive to, making the Mission School a K–12 insititution, when in reality it educates only K–8, as well as inventing a hospital and sticking it in the middle of downtown Carmel-by-the-Sea. The author apologizes for any confusion these or other inaccuracies might cause to the residents of the area.
MEDIATOR #6: The Twilight. Copyright © 2005 by Meg Cabot. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © SEPTEMBER 2009 ISBN: 9780061971938
Version 09142012
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Cabot, Meg.
Twilight / Meg Cabot.
p. cm.
Summary: Sixteen-year-old Carmel, California teenager Suze Simon is a typical high school student except for the fact that she is a “shifter” who can mediate between the living and the dead, and she is in love with a ghost from the nineteenth century.
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