Blur (Blur Trilogy) (15 page)

CHAPTER
THIRTY

Rizzo’s had a faux-Italian look going on, with checked tablecloths, Italian music in the background, pictures of the Sicilian countr
ys
ide on the wall. Next to one of them hung a framed dollar bill that was apparentl
y
the first one Rizzo had earned back in 1989 when he opened the restaurant.

If Rizzo wasn’t Italian himself, he sure fit the stereot
yp
e—t
hick boned, black haired, a bush
y
mustache, prone to talking wildl
y
with his hands. He was one of those dough throwers, and part of the experience of eating at his restaurant was watching him spin and flip the pies.

The smell of fresh dough inside the place was amazing and was almost worth the price of a pizza.

Daniel and K
yl
e ordered an extra-large pepperoni-and-jalapeño pie and went to the soda machine for their drinks.

“You ever think about North Dakota?” K
yl
e said.

“North Dakota?”

“Rizzo. It’s where he’s from.”

“Reall
y.
”

“Yup. I don’t know wh
y
it just struck me, but most states have something the
y’
re famous for. Even South Dakota has Mount Rushmore. I think North Dakota might be the onl
y
state that’s not unique.”

“Wouldn’t that make it unique?”

“Ah. True. So ma
yb
e their motto should be: ‘The onl
y
thing that sets us apart is how nondescript we are.
’
 ”

“The people of North Dakota might not like hearing
yo
u sa
y
that.”

“The
y’
re good-natured folks. The
y
won’t hold a grudge.” Then he added, “Besides, the
y
can claim being the birthplace of Rizzo, world-famous pizza-dough thrower, at least, world-
famous within a ten-mile radius of his restaurant.”

The
y
took a seat in a booth at the back of the restaurant.

K
yl
e set down his Pepsi, then said soberl
y,
“Well, it’s officiall
y
one week.”

“Since Emil
y’
s bod
y
was found.”

“Yeah.”

“In a wa
y
it seems like it was a lot longer and in a wa
y
it seems like it just happened.”

“I know what
yo
u mean.” K
yl
e gulped down some soda. “It’s weird.”

“Grain b
y
grain.”

“What?”

“That’s what
yo
u wrote the other da
y
for Miss Fl
yn
n’s class about how, grain b
y
grain, the sand erodes through our moments.”

“Slipping down the fragile slopes of our da
ys
,” he said reflectivel
y.
Then he quoted the rest of his poem word for word:
“
‘And I wonder, as I tumble down the side, who will change the weather and give m
y
life another shot at glor
y?
’ Yeah, I did.”

“Man,
yo
u have a good memor
y.
”

“Well,
yo
u remember numbers, I remember words. Especiall
y
phrases I make up.”

Daniel decided that before he asked his friend wh
y
he’d wanted to talk with him toda
y,
he would fill him in on what had happened the previous evening.

“He
y,
listen, last night I ended up taking Nicole back to her house. On the wa
y,
T
y
and his friends tried to attack us.”

“What do
yo
u mean, tried to attack
yo
u?”

“The
y’
d left something in the middle of the road. When I stopped to drag it out of the wa
y,
the
y
stepped out from where the
y
were hiding. One of them went for a rock. I think the
y
were going to tr
y
to break through the window of the car, ma
yb
e go after Nicole.”

“That’s craz
y.
What did
yo
u do?”

“I got the rock from the gu
y.
T
y
had a knife. I thought he was gonna come at me, but in the end he backed off.”

“I’ll bet Nicole was freaking out.”

“She was rattled; she’ll be oka
y.
But before the
y
drove awa
y
T
y
said something about Emil
y’
s notebook, about what was in it. Have
yo
u heard?”

K
yl
e shook his head. “Uh-uh. Did he sa
y?
”

“No. I’ve been wondering wh
y
he even brought it up. Also, he must have been out at Lake Algonquin
ye
sterda
y
morning when I was there with Stac
y.
He mentioned he saw me b
y
the lake.”

“Well, I doubt he was out there to go fishing.”

“What do
yo
u mean?”

“You know him. He’s not exactl
y
an outdoorsman.”

“Wh
y
do
yo
u think he went out there?”

“To drink. To part
y.
Who knows.”

“At that time of da
y?
”

He shrugged. “Wh
y
did
yo
u go out there?”

“I guess to . . .” He didn’t exactl
y
want to bring up the hallucinations. “Well, process what’s been going on. I thought I might find some answers.”

“Ma
yb
e it was the same with him.”

Daniel didn’t know what to sa
y
to that.

The
y
sat for a while, and he tried to mentall
y
sort things out, repla
yi
ng what had happened the night befor
e—S
tac
y
not showing up, Nicole meeting him outside school, T
y
and his friends waiting for them beside the road.

“What are
yo
u thinking?” K
yl
e asked him.

“Well, for one thing I’m thinking that I have no idea what I’m gonna sa
y
to Stac
y
when I run into her at school tomorrow. I mean, she invites herself to come to the lake with me, then when I ask her to go to the dance, she accepts, tells me to call her, and then doesn’t answer the phone or show up. She doesn’t call, doesn’t text. Nothing. I mean, how am I supposed to take that?”

“How do
yo
u want to take it?”

“What do
yo
u mean?”

“I mean do
yo
u want an apolog
y
or excuses or what? What could she tell
yo
u that would make
yo
u happ
y?
”

Daniel absentl
y
pulled off the paper covering his straw. “I don’t know. I guess just the truth.”

“Sometimes the truth hurts.”

“Sometimes it’s all we have.”

“A good repl
y,
sensei. I will be
yo
ur pupil forever.”

“I’ll remember that.”

The conversation shifted to stuff that was going on at school and the events of the last week. K
yl
e still didn’t bring up the reason wh
y
he’d texted that he wanted to meet toda
y,
and the whole time the
y
spoke Daniel wondered about it.

He also wondered how much he should tell K
yl
e about the weird things he’d been seeing, hearing, and feelin
g—h
ow realit
y
had become obscured to the point where it was hard to know what was real and what wasn’t.

Time passed, the pizza came, and the
y
dove into lunch.

Eventuall
y,
Daniel realized that if he couldn’t tell his best friend about some of the things he was experiencing, he couldn’t tell an
yo
ne.

Still, anxiet
y
twisted through his gut as he tried to figure out the best wa
y
to bring it up.

“He
y,
listen, K
yl
e . . .”

Man, he did not want to do this.

“Yeah?”

But he also did want to do it, did want to talk to someone about what’d been happening with him and what might have been causing the hallucinations.

“What is it?” K
yl
e had a mouthful of pizza.

Here goes nothing.

“I’ve been seeing things.”

“What do
yo
u mean?” K
yl
e swallowed. “What kinds of things?”

“Ones that aren’t there.”

“Bro, that’s usuall
y
what people mean when the
y
sa
y
the
y’
re seeing things. I’m wondering what kinds of things that aren’t there are
yo
u seeing.” He reached for one of the three remaining slices.

“Ghosts. I’ve been seeing ghosts. Well, one ghost, actuall
y.
Emil
y
Jackson’s.”

K
yl
e stopped short when he heard the words. He stared at Daniel. “You’ve been seeing Emil
y
Jackson’s ghost?”

“I’ve seen it twice now. Once at the funeral, the second time at the football game, right before I got sacked. That’s wh
y
I didn’t throw the ball, wh
y
I hesitated on that pla
y.
Either it’s her ghost or . . . I don’t know. I guess I’m hallucinating.”

There.

Now.

It was out in the open. He’d told someone and at last things would change.

K
yl
e would either believe him or he wouldn’t believe him, but either wa
y
things were going to be different. And at least the secret wouldn’t be trapped inside Daniel an
y
longer. At least there was a possibilit
y
that he might get some answers about what was going on.

His friend didn’t sa
y
an
yt
hing for a long time, just worked his wa
y
through the slice of pizza he’d picked up. He looked deep in thought.

The fact that he didn’t repl
y
made Daniel anxious. “I think she’s tr
yi
ng to tell me something, K
yl
e.”

“Emil
y
is dead, Daniel.”

“I know, bu
t—”

“There’s no ‘but.’ She’s dead and ghosts don’t exist.”

“You don’t believe in ghosts?”

“No,” K
yl
e replied. “I don’t. Revenants and eidolons, an
y
of that.”

“Revenants and eidolons?”

“Different kinds of ghosts.”

“What about all the stories
yo
u tell when we go camping, on road trips, that sort of thing?”

“The
y’
re storie
s—j
ust like
yo
u said. Urban legends, campfire tales, that’s it. You know that.”

“But what about all the things people see, spirits, specters, hauntings? You don’t reall
y
think the
y’
re all just figments of their imagination?”

“Just because people see things doesn’t mean those things exist. Sometimes our e
ye
s pla
y
tricks on us.”

“This is a lot more than m
y
e
ye
s pla
yi
ng tricks on me.”

K
yl
e was quiet.

There reall
y
weren’t ver
y
man
y
possible explanations for what was happening. Either he was seeing ghosts or he was seeing something that wasn’t there.

Either seeing the dead, or hallucinating.

Great options there.

Normal people don’t have hallucinations. Onl
y
people who are losing touch with realit
y
do.

Onl
y
people who are going craz
y.

K
yl
e covered another slice with crushed red pepper to the point where it looked almost inedible. “So talk me through it. You’re seeing ghosts, and at the game
yo
u didn’t pass out because
yo
u were hit? That’s what
yo
u’re sa
yi
ng?”

“I don’t know exactl
y.
All I can sa
y
is that I saw her walking toward me on the field.”

“Emil
y.
”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” He took a bite of the red pepper–ified slice. It would have put most people’s mouths on fire. It didn’t seem to faze K
yl
e. “La
y
it out. Details.”

Daniel talked through the events that had preceded each of the two blackouts.

He recounted Emil
y’
s words about Trevor and her request for him to find her glasses, then he told K
yl
e about the necklace and how she’d tugged it through her neck and held it up for him to see.

He finished b
y
sa
yi
ng, “I don’t think this is going to stop until she gets what she wants.”

“And what is that? What does she want?”

“The truth.”

“The truth about what? Her death? Her drowning?”

“Yes.”

“Like in that movie
The Sixth Sense
? When the ghosts kept appearing? That kid who saw dead people?”