Dying to Go Viral
Page 15
Tom Wishinsky placed himself behind Rollo and grabbed onto the side.
But I can’t take my helmet off. It will kill Dad.
Rollo revved the engine.
“So don’t.”
I ran toward the car.
“You can’t stop me.” Tom stepped onto the skateboard.
“Oh no?” I said. The stupid little kid had to prove himself over and over to the stupider older guys.
The Mustang revved again.
“Watch me!”
The Mustang shot out of the parking lot. I jumped on my skateboard to chase after it.
“I’m liking this!” Aiden called when he saw me following. “Great action!” A pale nerdy idiot who only noticed things through a lens—what had I ever seen in him?
I focused on Tom. How could I keep him safe? My wheel had caught on the sewer grate. Tom was on the driver side—there was no danger of that happening.
I fell behind as I thought. Glancing across the park, through the trees, I saw it coming down Park Drive. The ice cream truck. Heading south, our way.
Foolish as he was, Tom still held onto the side of the car with both hands.
“Taller!” Aiden shouted at him.
Tom straightened his knees.
“Now just use one hand!”
Tom let go with his left hand and started to go wide.
The Mustang approached the corner.
“Watch out!” I yelled to Tom. He didn’t hear me. “The ice cream truck is coming.” My words blew away on the wind.
They wouldn’t see it till they turned north around the corner.
I pedalled hard with my left foot. My sneaker burned but I wanted to catch up before they made the corner.
Please, Mom! I prayed in my head. Let me get to him in time.
Tom swung wide from the car as they went into the turn. The ice cream truck was coming from the other direction.
I pumped hard, one last push, and shot ahead, my fingers reaching for Tom.
I grabbed onto his t-shirt from behind and yanked him toward me, forcing him to lose his grip. Swerving, I shoved him back hard to get him out of the way. The momentum threw me forward.
Suddenly, I was facing the truck.
The brakes squealed. I heard the clunk. My body sailed through the air, and then nothing.
I woke up sitting next to Mom at the pond again. “I’m dead for good, now, aren’t I?” I asked her.
“Dead is such a negative word. I prefer to think of it as ‘starting your afterlife.’” She hugged me, holding on tightly. “So you enjoyed your week. You did a lot of things.” She smiled and brushed my hair from my cheek.
“It was awesome. I made fudge, went hot-air balloon riding, saw deer in a clearing, the rainbow over Niagara Falls…I fell in love with Scratch,” I sighed, “and he fell in love with me, too.”
“Oh Jade, he’s loved you since the day you started kindergarten. You just never noticed before.”
“What’s he going to do now?”
“He’ll struggle. Who knows, the way he skateboards he may be around soon.” Mom took my hand.
“Mom!” I protested.
“Sorry. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” She winked at me.
“At least I saved Tom Wishinsky. And I kept my helmet on.”
Mom smiled and nodded.
“They’ll know, Dad and Devon. People will tell them.”
“You died a hero.”
I shook my head. “I tried to do my best. For everyone— Tom, Scratch, Devon, Dad. Especially Dad. I just wish I could have said goodbye to him,” I added wistfully.
Mom let go of my hand. “That is one thing you can still do. You can visit him in his sleep for a moment. Do you want to?”
I nodded.
As she spoke, the air swirled and I found myself standing at the foot of Dad’s bed. From out of nowhere I heard a meow. Oreo! He sat down and rubbed against my leg. I picked him up, nuzzled his fur and he purred. “You’re already half in my world. I’ll see you soon.” I put him down again.
Dad was tossing and turning in his sleep.
“I’m okay, Dad,” I whispered to him, drifting closer. “I’m with Mom.” I felt myself lifting, floating over the bed, “I’m okay, really I am. But you have to help me.” I could hear the words outside my head now. “Dad, you have to be okay, too.”
“Don’t worry so much about me,” he murmured as he rolled over. And then he was still, breathing gently.
Those were the last words of his I would ever hear. I blew him a kiss. “Goodbye.” But I still felt the warmth of his love across the universe as I appeared back at the pond sitting next to my mother.
My mother stroked my hair as I buried my head in her shoulder. “It is very difficult. To lose someone and miss them so badly.”
I felt the warmth of her love, too, and I straightened.
“We suffer loss in our lives to remind us how lucky we are to have had those people in them.” She took my hand and tugged me to my feet.
“We were lucky, weren’t we, Mom?” I smiled at her through tears.
“Oh yes. We were blessed. We still are blessed.” She pulled me along with her. “We should go now. Just look at that sky, it’s beautiful out.”
I wiped away my tears and nodded, “A perfect day for a trip.”
About the Author
Sylvia McNicoll is the author of over thirty books, including Last Chance for Paris and the three guide-dog fostering novels, Bringing Up Beauty, A Different Kind of Beauty, and Beauty Returns. Sylvia lives with her family in Burlington, Ontario.
Copyright © 2013 Sylvia McNicoll
Published in Canada by Fitzhenry © Whiteside, 195 Allstate Parkway, Markham, Ontario L3R 4T8. Published in the United States by Fitzhenry © Whiteside, 311 Washington Street, Brighton, Massachusetts 02135
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of Fitzhenry © Whiteside.
eISBN 978-1-55455-932-9
Financial support provided by the Canada Council, and the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund (CBF).