by Jeyn Roberts
I’ve touched Parker before. I’ve never felt any emotional response with my body. No shortness of breath. No butterflies in my stomach. He’s just something to touch against my unfeeling skin. But this, this is different.
This makes me remember:
A bright flash of sunlight. My brother and me, running through a field with baskets full of raspberries. My feet bare, toes digging into the spongy earth. Warm heat spreading across my head, my arms, my legs. Putting my basket down to do a cartwheel. Marcus laughing when I trip. The soft grass cushions my fall, and I can’t help but join my brother in high-pitched squeals of delight.
Julian, holding me tight. Swimming out by the lake. We’ve wrapped a blanket around our bodies to keep warm. One of his hands caresses my skin; the other slips beneath my shirt, trailing a line of wetness along my side. Hearts beating. Breath heavy. Julian’s lips brushing against my cheek. I tilt my head to kiss him.
My brain has turned into mush. A thousand thoughts rush through my mind. Part of me wants to throw myself against Parker, take in these new feelings as much as possible. What about his lips? Are they soft? Cool? Wet?
I open my mouth and gasp. Air rushes into my lungs, almost choking me. I can’t remember the last time I actually tried breathing.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Parker grins. He realizes he’s completely derailed me by simply holding my hands. His eyes shimmer with excitement, and a bit of smugness, if you ask me. He’s showing off a secret he’s held on to forever, and if he weren’t being so completely serious, he might actually enjoy it a bit more.
“It is,” I say. I look down at Parker holding tightly to me. His hands are almost twice as large as mine. I have such dainty wrists. Parker’s hands are rough but soft at the same time. I’ve forgotten how good a man’s skin can feel.
“Now listen to me, Molly,” Parker says. “When you go through to earth, it’s got to be temporary. The Remnants will sense you. They’ll be drawn to you. If you stay too long, they’ll find you. And you don’t want that. If they catch you, that’s it. You’re gone.”
“You’re not going to come with me?”
Parker is taken aback. “You want me to come?”
“Yes.”
He pauses. For a moment I see a brief flicker of fear cross his eyes. “Okay.”
I let go of Parker’s hand and walk toward the cave. So much darkness beyond that doorway.
“All right, then,” Parker says. He reaches out his hand again. “So you don’t get lost. It can be tricky. And watch your head.”
Nodding, I allow him to lead me inside.
We move carefully through the wet cavern. Both of us have to duck while we walk, and after a few steps the walls grow closer, until Parker and I have to move sideways. The light from the outside world quickly fades as Parker leads me farther into the dark. I reach out and touch the sides for leverage. The rock is icy cold against my touch, and my fingers become slightly slimy. But the cave quickly becomes super dark; I need something to press against so I don’t lose my balance.
“It’s not that far,” Parker says. “Look ahead: you can see the glow.”
He’s right. As soon as my eyes adjust to the absolute blindness, I can see a faint glow from up ahead. It becomes brighter as we approach, and I’m surprised to discover it’s the walls themselves that are giving off all that light. The air grows warmer, more humid, and breathing becomes difficult.
Yes, breathing.
Parker takes me around a corner, and suddenly we’re there. The narrow walls open up to a small chamber. Everything glows, giving off a warm light.
“It’s beautiful,” I say. “It’s like being on the inside of a diamond.”
Parker nods. “No idea how it’s even possible, but it is.”
In the middle of the room is a clay bowl. Inside are dozens of tiny pebbles. Beside it are pieces of chalk. Parker goes over and picks up a piece. Moving back toward the left wall, he motions for me to come closer.
“Here’s the trick. Write where you want to go with this,” he says as he hands me the chalk. He points to a part of the wall that has a perfect smooth surface. “It can be a place, a person, whatever you desire.”
I take the white piece of chalk from him and stare at the wall. This is happening. Parker’s given me the thing I’ve longed for ever since meeting Tatum. A chance to save her. I still don’t care if she thinks she’s fine; I know in my heart it isn’t true. All I have to do is write her name. But I hesitate.
I’m scared. And I know it’s not because Parker’s been filling my head with horror stories about the Remnants. I’m not worried about that—I’m positive he’s overreacting, like he does with other things. I think Parker is trying to protect me from myself. And he’s right. Going back to earth and not having to follow any rules is what terrifies me. This is the freedom I’ve been longing for. And now that I know it exists, how will I ever give it back?
What if there’s a way to stay? To become human again? To live, grow old, and then truly die when I’m ready? What if this is my chance? Should I really be wasting it chasing down a girl who obviously doesn’t give a damn about her own life? Why should I even bother? She’s so determined to be right. Stubborn.
No, focus on the real reasons. I need to help Tatum. After that, I can deal with my selfish desires.
Carefully, I write Tatum’s first name on the cavern stone. I don’t have any other information. Hopefully the wall won’t require it.
“Now pick up one of the pebbles,” Parker says. “Put it in your pocket and don’t drop it. You’ll need it to get back.”
“How did you figure all this out?” I ask.
“Roani showed me.”
“Who?”
“A guy who used to be here. Like us. He learned from someone else, who probably learned from someone even further down the line. It doesn’t matter. I’m the only one left who knows now.”
“What happened to him?”
“He’s gone. The worst part is, I don’t think anyone remembers him either. One day he didn’t come back, and no one ever asked about him afterward.”
If the story is meant to scare me, it’s not working. I’m even more determined to try this out. I reach down and pick up a small gray stone. Parker grabs one too. I slip it inside a pocket of my skirt and press my hand against it to make sure it’s safe.
“Now what?” I ask.
Parker doesn’t need to answer me. The walls instantly fade away. I close my eyes tightly, holding on to Parker to make sure he comes along for the ride.
* * *
I hear noises. Night sounds. Crickets singing away in the bushes. The faint rumble of a truck in the distance. The loud silence of being outside in a large open space. A cool breeze wafts across my face. Opening my eyes, I find myself standing on the sidewalk of a street I don’t recognize. It’s nighttime. Several rows of houses are in front of me. Most of them have their lights turned off. Cars sit in driveways.
“We’re here,” Parker says.
Where exactly are we? I look around, half expecting to see Tatum pop up in front of us. But the street is empty. There’s not a soul in sight.
Except us.
I turn to face Parker. He looks slightly different. I can’t explain or describe it. He looks more human. The wind blows his hair across his forehead. I’ve always wanted to run my fingers through his hair, and now I reach out and touch it. Parker smiles, enjoying my reaction. It must be stirring up old memories of his first time breaking free.
I step back and spin around, feeling the wind as it presses against my skirt. Looking straight up, I can see the yellow glow of a streetlight. I haven’t seen one of those in forever. I’d almost forgotten about them.
“It’s amazing,” I say. A town. This isn’t just Frog Road; I’m standing in the middle of a street, and there are people sleeping in those houses. I could run up and down the block and look in the windows. I could walk in one direction until morning. I could watch the sun rise.
; “I want to do this forever,” Julian once said, his lips pressed against my ear. We’d stayed up all night, and now the sun was about to rise. Sitting in the back of his truck, we’d piled blankets around us. The end to a perfect evening. Or the beginning to a new day. Where it began and ended never mattered.
“I want to watch the sun rise with you for the rest of my life,” he said.
“Me too.”
“Marry me.”
No. No. No. Too many sad memories. Why can’t I just shut it all out and move on? Why can’t I make new memories?
I could if I stayed here, away from the beach with all those other souls who can’t stop remembering.
“We can’t stay long,” Parker says, determined to destroy my fun. “Let’s find your girl.” He glances down the street. “She should be close. Any idea?”
I look at the dark row of houses. Only a few still have lights on, and most of them seem to be coming from upstairs bedrooms. “She must live here somewhere. I wonder what time it is.”
“I don’t know,” Parker says. “Late, but not too late. Too many lights still on.”
“Does this normally happen?” I ask. “When you write something on the wall, does it not always send you to the right place? Where did you go, anyway?”
“Now isn’t the time to be asking,” Parker says as he scans the block again. “Question me later. Right now, we have to find your girl. If the cave sent you here, she’s here.” He pauses, listening to the night. “There. An automobile. Hear it?”
I stop to listen. Sure enough, the roar of an engine grows louder. A car turns the corner a bit too fast. As it moves along the block, I recognize it as being Tatum’s. I step back toward Parker, wondering again if I’m doing the right thing. Suddenly I’m overwhelmed with the desire to jump in the bushes and hide like a pitiful puppy.
I don’t.
I can see Tatum through the windshield. She doesn’t see me at first. She seems to be distracted, barely even looking at the road. When she pulls over to park, her tire hits the curb. A pounding bass sound vibrates from the loud music inside. It’s only after she turns off the car and climbs out that she notices Parker and me standing in front of her.
“Oh my God.”
“Hi,” I say. For the first time in all my Fades and haunting years, I’m at a complete loss for words.
“What are you doing here?” Tatum says.
“I came looking for you.”
“How is that possible? Can ghosts travel? I thought you were spiritually bound to Frog Road.” She reaches out and gently touches my arm. Her fingers are warm from being in the car. She withdraws her hand, looking somewhat surprised, as if she thought she might reach right through my being.
“Normally I’m stuck as a hitchhiker,” I say. “But I found a loophole. A way to help you.”
“Help! Yes! I have to show you this.” Tatum holds up a large photo album. Her eyes sparkle with excitement. She’s already over her surprise at seeing me. She barely even gives Parker a second glance. “I found a whole bunch of information about you. Tons of great stuff. My friend Scott’s grandmother collected it. You helped her once. She was the lady who found the bank key behind the bed. Do you remember?”
“I’m not sure,” I say. “I don’t always remember people when I Fade.”
“Fade?”
“It’s what we call it when we come here.” I look at the album Tatum is waving around, and a sense of dread comes over me. Have all the people I’ve helped ended up with some weird determination to find information on me? How could they be successful? I try to remember the woman Tatum speaks of. If she is older, she might remember my death. Maybe she was young at the time of my murder and the news left an impression on her. Or she got lucky. Just like Tatum.
My death is not worth remembering. I should be long forgotten, not some mystery for a teenage girl to try and solve. But Tatum’s got her mission. What I need to do is give her the answers she needs so we can move on and worry about her. Thanks to Parker, I’m going to get this extra time to spend with her.
“Cool,” she says now.
“I can’t believe you’ve gone to all this trouble,” I say. Which makes me think this girl doesn’t have a lot of friends to keep her occupied.
“Hopefully it’ll give me the answers to help you.”
Why can’t she just let this go?
“You can’t help me,” I say, but I know my concerns are falling on deaf ears.
“Newspaper articles,” Tatum says. “Pictures. And now I have names. Your last name: Bellamy. There’s got to be other stuff on the Internet, too. I can help. I know I can. You know, help get you where you need to go. The bright light. All that stuff.”
She’s so excited. I wish I could share in her enthusiasm, even though I know it’s misguided. I can see Parker behind her, amused and trying not to grin.
Most of us on the beach have experienced someone trying to save our souls at least once or twice. The Canadian girl is a great example. Several times she’s appeared in the music studio to see a group of people trying to summon her away. They’ve burned sage in overwhelming amounts. She’s had holy water thrown at her. The crazy dog lady says that the new tenant once tried to suck her up with a vacuum cleaner. None of these things have worked. No séances, exorcisms, or even plain old-fashioned begging. No over-the-top paranormal ghost shows with their psychic readers and scientific sound devices. No matter how many real-world humans try to remove us, we keep coming.
So although I know Tatum’s heart is in the right place, I also know that I’m not leaving the lake until whoever put me there decides it’s time. We’ve got people who have been there for hundreds of years. We all remember each other arriving, but no one remembers anyone leaving. Except for Roani, the mysterious disappearing person Parker just mentioned tonight.
Tatum’s excitement about discovering my past isn’t going to change that.
“Tatum, it’s not…” I pause when I see her stiffen. She’s not looking at me. I hear the footsteps from behind. Several pairs.
“Look who’s out on a school night,” a voice says.
I turn. Two boys around Tatum’s age are walking toward us. Neither of them appears very friendly, even though they’re smiling. There’s something aggressive in the way they walk, like they think they have a right to whatever is about to happen next. I remember guys like this. The type who thought buying a girl a drink meant they owned her for the night.
As they walk beneath the streetlight, I recognize them.
The vision I had of Tatum being attacked. They are both in it.
“Go away, Graham.” Tatum’s voice is cautious. Exhausted. Like she’s had to deal with this guy more times than she cares to remember.
Graham. He’s going to hold Tatum down. Press against her body, forcing the air out of her lungs. His breath will smell like spearmint. No matter how much Tatum struggles against him, she won’t be strong enough to fight back.
Right now she doesn’t seem scared of him at all. That’s going to change if I don’t make her listen.
“Where were you tonight? Sitting outside Mr. P.’s house? Peeking through the window? Writing love letters?” He reaches out to grab the album from Tatum’s hands, but she’s too quick. His fingers only touch air.
“Where were you tonight?” Tatum snaps back. “Waiting outside my house for me to come home? Just you and Levi hanging out? Stalk much?”
“Takes one to know one.”
“Wow, witty,” Tatum says. She looks straight at me and tosses her head slightly to the side, indicating I should follow. “I’ve got better things to do with my time. Go tip some cows.”
Graham grabs her arm as she tries to leave.
“Hey!” I shout, and Parker steps between all of us, grabs Graham’s arm, and shoves him backward. The boy stumbles over his own feet, but only for a second. Regaining his balance, he gets right in Parker’s face. Presses his chest against Parker’s and bares his teeth. The other boy, Levi, reaches out and pu
lls his friend back. The silence grows heavy as the boys all face off against each other.
“Who the hell are you?” Graham asks.
He can see us? I open my mouth in surprise. I’ve spent too much time on the highway, only appearing to one person at a time. I honestly didn’t think that anyone other than Tatum could see me. Until this moment, I wasn’t even sure she could see Parker.
“I’m not your concern,” Parker finally says.
“You are if I make you my problem,” Graham says. From behind him, Levi snickers and sticks his tongue out in a lewd motion toward me. My eyes narrow, and I ignore the itch in my hand, the desire to punch away that smug look on Levi’s face.
“I said get lost,” Tatum says.
“What’s with the costumes?” Levi says. “It’s not even close to Halloween, hippie chick. The sixties sucked.”
“And get a load of pretty boy here,” Graham says. His voice goes high and stupid as he tries to mimic Parker’s British accent. “Oh, golly gee, guv’nor. I like wearing prissy outfits. Got a fag for me, luv?”
“Really?” I say. “You’re trying to give us fashion advice? I can see your underwear. And what’s with the jeans? Can’t you afford a pair that fits?”
“I think that’s what passes for fashion these days,” Parker says with a serious face.
“And they say my generation dressed weird,” I mutter under my breath. I wonder what my dad would think of the kids these days. If he disliked Julian’s long hair, he’d despise the way this kid’s jeans look like they’re constantly hanging at his knees.
“Is this the best you can do, Tate?” Graham asks. He’s circling around Parker but keeping his distance. “A Brit queer and a drama-class dropout? Wow, who thought the reject could find kids even more rejectier than her?”
“That’s not even a word, idiot,” Tatum says.
“You should stay away from that chick,” Graham says to Parker. He brushes some imaginary dirt off his jacket sleeve. “Don’t believe a word that comes out of her mouth. Bitch is crazy.”
