Salvation's Song

by Pearl Love

  “Or, maybe I’m just being paranoid.”

  Jeremy half sighed, half laughed at his self-assessment. Hadn’t Mr. Crabtree offered to have his back if he needed help? What good would it do for him to question Mr. Crabtree’s motives when he hadn’t given Jeremy any reason to doubt his intentions? Jeremy glanced down at his pendant right as a beam of sunlight caught it, making it glow an eerie, almost iridescent blue. He was so used to it he sometimes forgot how unusual it was. And Mr. Crabtree had been right. It was beyond special to him. He almost never took it off, not even to sleep. No wonder Mr. Crabtree had been curious as to its significance.

  A car revving its engine as it passed by made Jeremy look up. Seeing he had the walk sign, he continued across the street, putting thoughts of his new band director out of his mind in favor of delicious icy goodness. Maybe he’d try the fruit cocktail this time? Anna had raved about it, telling him he was limiting himself by sticking to his preferred flavor combination.

  A trickle of sweat made the back of Jeremy’s neck itch, and he reached up to scratch it, his clarinet case knocking against his shoulder as he did so. When he touched his skin, however, he didn’t feel the expected moisture. Maybe it had been a fly or something, he thought, although he hadn’t heard any buzzing. He’d gone another block and a half before another bead of dripping sweat popped up to aggravate him.

  “Weird,” he said when he looked at his fingers after scratching his neck, finding them bone-dry yet again. He tucked his case under his other arm and slapped at the back of his neck for good measure, hoping whatever insect was bugging him died a swift and painful death for being such a nuisance.

  Jeremy.

  Jeremy glanced sharply to his left, expecting to find Chris standing next to him before remembering that was impossible. But damned if he hadn’t heard his brother’s voice. “Great. Now I’m going crazy. Must be the heat.” He picked up his pace as much as he dared, hoping to reach his frozen lemonade destination before he passed out from heatstroke or something equally humiliating. He began whistling—simply to pass the time—as he approached Harrison Street.

  Jeremy.

  He stopped and looked around sharply. This time he was absolutely certain the voice calling out to him belonged to his brother. His very dead brother. If someone was playing a prank on him, it was in very poor taste. He turned in a full circle but saw no one in his immediate vicinity, let alone anyone who could be imitating Chris. The only people besides him within a block radius were two girls walking in his direction from the north and a large blond kid wearing a jacket about ten yards past them.

  Jeremy squinted as he stared at the kid, wondering why in the hell anyone would be wearing a jacket in this weather. As he continued to look, he noticed the jacket bore familiar colors, navy blue and red. The colors of his new school to be exact. Jeremy paused, wondering if the jacket wearer was someone he knew, or at least recognized. It was only the second day of classes, and he didn’t really know any of his fellow classmates yet, not even the names of the students in his homeroom. Except for Mr. Hottie Hughes, of course, but the large kid was white, so he certainly wasn’t Tyrell.

  Jeremy shrugged and turned back in the direction he’d been heading. It wasn’t particularly strange that another Winton Yowell student was going this way. They were still pretty close to the school after all. The light had turned yellow, so Jeremy crossed the street at a jog to prevent having to wait for another cycle before he could continue.

  Jeremy watch out!

  Another ray of sunlight caught the pendant, and Jeremy stopped dead in the middle of the street when a beam of light coming from the direction of his chest nearly blinded him. Squinting, he looked down at the pendant and gaped as he noticed it was practically glowing.

  “What the hell?” he whispered. The loud honk of a car horn reminded him he was still in the middle of the street and in danger of being run over. He ran to the sidewalk before reaching down to lift his pendant in his hand. “Ouch!” he hissed as the stone burned him. Utterly confused, Jeremy stared at it for a long moment. It was no longer as bright as it had been a second ago, but it still glowed with some inner light he’d never seen before. He was standing in the shade of a building, so he certainly couldn’t blame the sun, though he was at a loss how to explain what was happening.

  Jeremy, run!

  “Chris?” he said in a hesitant tone. He heard nothing but the sound of the passing traffic, but something made him look back across the street. The girls were still there, chatting animatedly as they walked, their hands moving frequently to emphasize whatever they were talking about. The guy with the jacket remained behind them, though he’d closed the distance separating him from the young women. Jeremy suddenly noticed the guy was staring directly at him, and though his features were indistinct at that distance, he felt a clear sense of menace that twisted his stomach into knots.

  Run!

  This time Jeremy didn’t stop to question the mysterious instruction. He veered left onto Harrison and headed east as fast as he could, earning several nasty looks as he bumped against a few people while trying to weave through the foot traffic. He was closer to the college, and the crowd had thickened, hampering his attempts to get away from whatever was chasing him. He had no doubt that he was, in fact, being pursued. The instant he’d started to run, the itching at the back of his neck grew more intense, but this time he realized the sensation was from the chain of his pendant digging into his skin as the stone grew inexplicably heavier. The lapis lazuli banged almost painfully against his sternum with every step, but he didn’t dare stop.

  Go right!

  Jeremy turned to cut southeast across a parking lot, letting some unknown instinct guide him.

  Right!

  Again, he obeyed immediately, the sensation that he was being chased dogging him unrelentingly. He’d never been much of a runner, preferring reading and music to physical exertion, and the heat was starting to get to him. Sweat had plastered his hair to his forehead, and it dripped stingingly into his eyes. Gasping for breath, he raced across the intersection on the far side of the lot. Fortunately, there was only a stop sign, so he didn’t have to pause for cars.

  In there! the voice said as soon as he’d reached the other side of the street.

  “There” happened to be a sandwich shop called Carm’s. As he slammed open the door, Jeremy noticed with terrified irony a sign indicating that the place also sold Italian ice.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  Jeremy had turned to look back at the door, his chest on fire and his gut tight with anticipation that his pursuer would follow him inside. What had he been thinking, trapping himself like this? But he’d always trusted his brother implicitly, and apparently, nothing on that front had changed, even though he’d only been following Chris’s disembodied voice. He spun around at the question, his eyes widening as he recognized at least one of the two people staring at him with startled curiosity.

  The girl had been the one who’d spoken to him. Jeremy thought he’d seen her in the hallway at school, but didn’t know her. Her brown eyes were filled with kind concern as she looked at him, but it was the guy standing next to her that made him wish the floor would open up and conveniently swallow him.

  Tyrell Hughes gaped at Jeremy, his handsome features reflecting his shock at the unexpected encounter.

  “Are you okay?” the girl repeated. “Hey, don’t you go to our school?”

  “He’s in my homeroom,” Tyrell answered on Jeremy’s behalf. “Are you okay?” he asked, his surprise yielding to narrow-eyed speculation as he gave Jeremy the once-over.

  “Um,” Jeremy said, stalling as he struggled to catch his breath. “Yeah,” he managed after a short while. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Really? Because you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” The girl had moved closer to him, and she was peering up into his face searchingly. “Here, take this.” She held out a cup of pale yellow ice. “Maybe the heat got to you.”

  Unable to
disagree, Jeremy smiled weakly and took the cup. “Thanks, um….”

  “Cynthia. Cynthia Parker. I’m a junior at Winton Yowell too. Were you running?” She shook her head. “That’s not a good idea this time of year. Even the track team doesn’t do much outdoor practicing in this heat.”

  Jeremy stuck a spoonful of ice into his mouth as he frantically tried to think of a response. He closed his eyes in gratitude as the frozen treat melted on his tongue. Piña colada. A girl after his own heart.

  “What where you doing?”

  Jeremy glanced over at Tyrell, marveling at the fact that Mr. Hottie Hughes had spoken to him twice in as many minutes. “I, uh….”

  He turned toward the glass door, but couldn’t see anything through it except the empty sidewalk. If something had been chasing him, it wasn’t there now. Jeremy began to think he had just imagined the whole thing. At the time, he’d been frightened out of his mind, but now he just felt stupid. Chased by some unknown menace? Hearing his dead brother’s voice? Maybe he was going crazy.

  “I was going to meet my sister,” he said finally, deciding to take the secret of what he’d just done to his grave. “She goes to UIC, and I was supposed to run an errand with her after school. She’ll kill me if I’m late, so I was trying to hurry. Like you said,” he added, smiling at Cynthia, “it was a bad idea.” He swung his backpack off his shoulder and placed it on the floor so he could unzip it. “Thanks again for the ice. How much do I owe you?”

  She shook her head. “No problem. You can buy me a sticky bun in the cafeteria tomorrow during lunch. If you’re in Tyrell’s homeroom, we have lunch the same period.” She grinned in mock triumph.

  Jeremy laughed, not even considering refusing her request, although he hated the psychological teen proving ground that characterized most high school cafeterias. “Okay, I’ll see you there.”

  “What should I call you?” Cynthia’s gaze was expectant as she waited for his response.

  “Oh, sorry. I’m Jeremy. Jeremy Michalak.” He threw a quick glance at Tyrell, who was watching his and Cynthia’s exchange with an unreadable expression. “Uh, later,” he said before turning to head for the door without waiting for a reply.

  The street was still clear, but Jeremy paused to make sure he was alone before he glanced at the street sign on the corner to get his bearings. He decided he might as well cut across the main part of campus to reach Halsted where he could catch the bus home. Since Cynthia had been sweet enough to give him her ice, he could leave his Mario’s trip for another day. Besides, right then, all he wanted to do was go home and take a shower. Maybe he’d ask Monica whether she had any herbs he could take to address his burgeoning psychosis.

  Chapter NINE

  “DID YOU tell him you’re sorry yet?”

  Tyrell shot a confused look at Cynthia as he braced himself against the sway of the Jackson Park Express. The bus was nearly twice as long as a normal CTA vehicle to accommodate more passengers, and it was hinged at the middle to facilitate turns. He often liked to place one foot on the movable joint and the other on the stable portion of the floor so his feet moved while he stood still.

  “Tell who?” he asked.

  Cynthia rolled her eyes. “That kid we saw at Carm’s. You know, the one with the long blond ringlets. He’s the one you were telling me about after the game, right?” She frowned thoughtfully. “What was his name again?”

  “Jeremy Michalak,” Tyrell mumbled. He instantly knew he’d made a mistake when she grinned up at him knowingly.

  “So he is the one. And did you?”

  “Did I what?” This time he was being deliberately obtuse, and it earned him a feint from her hand toward the back of his head.

  “Don’t be smart with me, Tyrell. I’m taking it you haven’t apologized yet.”

  Tyrell sighed. “I never really got the chance. Besides,” he said, feeling defensive in the face of her attack, “I didn’t actually do anything.”

  Cynthia glared at him. “You could have fooled me. He looked like he was about to pass out when he saw you.”

  This time, Tyrell’s confusion was genuine. “What do you mean? He just looked like he was about to faint from the heat. He did say he’d been running.”

  The bus driver chose that moment to announce their stop, and Tyrell was grateful for the reprieve from the uncomfortable conversation. He couldn’t fathom why Cynthia was showing so much interest in the new kid, even going so far as to invite him to join them at lunch. Sure she had always been the motherly sort, but she’d barely set eyes on Jeremy before he’d barreled into the sandwich shop looking like the boogeyman was on his tail.

  “Running from something,” Cynthia remarked, echoing his thoughts. “I’d have bought that story about him overheating while hurrying to meet his sister if his face hadn’t been white as a sheet instead of red. No,” she added, shaking her head, “he looked scared out of his mind. I wonder why?”

  Tyrell could tell from her tone that she was about to go into detective mode. He knew from experience how difficult it was to stop her when she got it into her head to be nosy. Fortunately, they had reached the intersection where they had to part ways to reach their respective homes.

  “See you tomorrow, Cyn,” he said, figuring he’d manage to get away before she could remember how they’d gotten on the topic of Jeremy in the first place. He groaned quietly when she grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop.

  “Not so fast, mister. Don’t think I didn’t notice you completely dodged my question.” Cynthia sighed, her features softening with concern and not a little disappointment. “What’s up with you, Tyrell? You know you were wrong to think like that about someone you’d never even seen before. Though you might have kept it to yourself, given the way Jeremy looked at you, I have a feeling he knows perfectly well what you thought of him.”

  Tyrell winced and looked away from her piercing gaze. He recalled vividly how Jeremy had seemed to grow even paler when he’d realized Tyrell was there. Tyrell had the nasty feeling his snap judgment had been completely transparent, which only made him feel worse. Still, what could he really do about it now?

  “I don’t know, Cyn. What would be the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. He probably doesn’t even care.”

  “Ty, you just met him yesterday. You can’t possibly know what your relationship will be next week, let alone by the end of the year. You said he’s in your homeroom, right?”

  Tyrell nodded, though he was silently freaking out at her reference to relationships. What relationship? There was certainly nothing going on with him and that weirdo. Absolutely nothing at all.

  “Then you should play nice. Can’t you imagine how difficult it must be for him to transfer into a brand-new school two years after the rest of us have already gotten to know each other?” Cynthia nudged his arm with her shoulder. “Come on, Ty, be the bigger man here. Besides, I’ve never known you to be a wuss, so don’t be such a wimp about this.” She smiled. “I have far more faith in you than I do in Ryan or Dunce or any of those meathead jocks.”

  Tyrell chuckled wryly, resisting the urge to remind her that she was as much of a jock as the football players, even if she was as tenacious in her academics as she was on the track.

  Cynthia’s smile became a grin as she seemed to recognize the irony of her statement. “I know you’ll do the right thing. Besides,” she said over her shoulder as she turned away in the direction of her house, “that Jeremy kid is pretty cute, don’t you think? Such dreamy eyes.”

  Tyrell gaped as he watched her walk away, part of him wanting to call her crazy and another far more secret part agreeing with her wholeheartedly. Putting an instant kibosh on the errant thought, Tyrell continued on alone to his apartment building. After unlocking the outside door, he paused in the vestibule to check the mailbox. He flipped through the envelopes, seeing nothing interesting among the junk mail except for a few bills. Tucking the envelopes and sales papers under his arm, he opened the inner door, which le
d to the main staircase. He took the stairs up to the third floor two at a time, his breath remaining even as he finally reached the landing.

  “I’m home,” he said after letting himself inside.

  He looked around as he set the mail on the table next to the door for his mother to find. Most of the lights were off, indicating that Joanne and Kevin had yet to come home. He was about to head to his room to get started on his homework—Winton Yowell teachers prided themselves on never allowing their students an idle moment to actually enjoy a weekday afternoon—when he heard a soft noise coming from his grandmother’s room. He walked to her door and saw a sliver of light coming from beneath it.

  “Big Momma?” he asked softly as he opened the door a crack. She often fell asleep with the light on, and he didn’t want to bother her if she was resting, knowing her penchant for afternoon naps. He blinked when he realized she was sitting up in her bed reading. “Big Momma?” he repeated. “You okay?”

  “Oh, Tyrell. You’re home. Did you have a good day at school?” Lucille waved a hand at him. “Don’t stand in the doorway. It’s bad luck.”

  Tyrell returned her chuckle with a grin, wondering where she’d gotten that one from. He was pleased to see that she seemed particularly lucid, her gaze meeting his with the forthright intelligence he remembered before the disease had crept up to steal away her mind. He stopped beside the bed and bent to place a kiss on her cheek.

  “School was fine. Today was the first full day.”

  Lucille patted the bed next to her on the opposite side from where Tyrell stood. “Come sit for a spell. Unless you were going to get something to eat. I know how it is with you growing boys.”