Existence (17 page)

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Authors: Abbi Glines

Tags: #YA Paranormal Romance, #paranormal romance, #ya romance, #Wild Child Publishing YA Paranormal Romance, #Abbi Glines

BOOK: Existence
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The hallways were already empty which meant I was late for English Literature. The ache returned as I thought about facing class without Dank. Even when he’d been ignoring me I was able to hear him talk and feel the heat from his gaze.

Now, I wasn’t even going to have that small bit of comfort.

What hurt even worse was how no one seemed to remember him. It was as if he had never existed. I stopped right outside the door. Going inside seemed unbearable. I wrapped my hands around my stomach to hold in the pain tearing me apart and leaned up against the wall. I stared down the empty hallway, wishing another soul would wander through.

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Instead, the empty silence remained. For the first time in my life I wanted to be bothered by the presence of souls and there wasn’t one around. If I could just go somewhere that was infested with wandering souls then I could ask them all.

I could ask and ask until I found one could and would speak to me. Something about the young soul in the bathroom told me she could have spoken had she wanted. She was scared.

Scared of what? What did souls have to fear? They were dead after all, or at least their bodies were.

“The hospital,” I whispered aloud, remembering that the one place I’d seen endless wandering souls had been the hospital. I turned and headed toward the front doors to the school. I would go there and start asking every soul I found.

One of them was bound to talk back. I would figure out how to find Dank. He was real. I’d known him. I loved him. I would find him.

“Miss. Moore? Our class is this way,” Mr. Brown’s voice cut through my thoughts and I stopped and sighed in defeat before turning around and facing my round English Literature teacher.

“Yes, sir, I was, um, just going to get a late pass.” He smiled and shook his head, “No need, but do hurry up please we’re just getting started on the beauty that is fiction. Come along now.” He stepped back, waiting for me to enter first. I walked back toward the class, wanting to turn and take off running in the other direction. I knew if Mom got a call that I’d jumped ship she would be furious and my chances of finding Dank were slim to none once I was locked in my room for the rest of the year.

I stepped into the classroom and walked over to my empty seat by the window. The chair behind me sat empty. I glanced back at Kendra and the chair behind her was full of Justin. He’d just stepped in and taken Dank’s place.

Disgusted, I turned back around. How could she have been touched by Dank and kissed by him and so easily forgotten he existed? I hadn’t forgotten. How had she? How could she 120

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not feel the pain of his absence? He was too good for her.

Why had he wasted so much time with her? I sank down into my chair and swallowed the lump of emotion welling up inside me. I couldn’t sit through this class without him here.

“The reading assignment today is to be done quietly at our desks. Do not talk to your neighbors. I want complete silence as you inhale the beauty of the written word. Take it in. Let it soak into your veins and fill you with such glorious wonder that you are positively glowing.” Moans erupted over the room. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Let us be excited about the word.

Excited about its beauty.” Grumbling continued as the sounds of shuffling pages filled the room. This would be a time for most of the students to take a nap behind their textbooks. I opened mine, wanting to find something to get my thoughts off of Dank. When the day was over I would go to the hospital and I would begin asking questions. Some soul somewhere had answers.

“Ugh, this is poet stuff,” a grumbling voice came from the back of the room.

Mr. Brown looked up from the book in his hands. “Ah, yes it is Mr. Kimbler, so nice of you to notice.” More groans erupted and I found the page directed on the board. It was William Wordsworth’s work. I felt the urge to moan in despair myself. Studying the beginning of the Romantic Age was not something I needed right now. Where were the tragic playwrights when you needed them?

“How does this mess help us in the real world?” Justin said in a cocky voice. Sniggers erupted across the classroom.

“Hear, hear,” someone called with a tap on their desk.

Mr. Brown glanced up once more with a slightly annoyed expression on his face, “Gentlemen, if one does not study the words of famous romantic poets how will one ever learn to woo the woman they will one day love? I can assure you that P Diddy has no words of instruction in his lyrical creations.” His words caused a few chuckles. I would have found this all very amusing if the concept of reading P Diddy lyrics didn’t 121

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seem so appealing at the moment. I glanced down at the poem we were to read and write a two-page paper on.
To a
Young Lady
by William Wordsworth. I could only hope it wasn’t a poem of enduring love.

“Dear Child of Nature, let them rail!

--There is a nest in a green dale,
A harbour and a hold,

Where thou a Wife and Friend, shalt see
Thy own delightful days, and be

A light to young and old.

There, healthy as a Shepherd-boy,
As if thy heritage were joy,

And pleasure were thy trade,

Thou, while thy Babes around thee cling,
Shalt shew us how divine a thing
A Woman may be made.

Thy thoughts and feelings shall not die,
Nor leave thee, when grey hairs are nigh,
A melancholy slave

But an old age, alive and bright,
And lovely as a Lapland night,

Shall lead thee to thy grave.

"--_Pleasure is spread through the earth
In stray gifts to be claim'd by whoever shall find_."

My shattered heart throbbed. I began to write. The pain inside me poured out onto the paper. It felt almost as if I were bleeding with each word I scrawled. Lost in my need to express to someone the pain inside, it startled me when my paper was taken from under my hand. My head snapped up.

Mr. Brown gave me a small nod and cleared his throat.

“Ah, it appears that Miss. Moore knows William Wordsworth or has already read her homework.” He peered over his half-moon spectacles at the class. “Which is much 122

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more than I can say about the lot of you.” He stared back down at my paper and straightened his short, round structure.

“Wordsworth was remembering his sister whom he’d been reproached for taking long walks with in the country.

He was thinking of her life and the fullness she would experience. He congratulated her or praised her in her efforts to enjoy the beauty around her rather than follow the rules.”

The bell rang and students began scrambling to get out of the classroom for fear Mr. Brown was going to force them to listen to more of my paper, or worse, snatch theirs up to read aloud. He laid my paper back down on my desk and smiled at me. “You are truly a delight, Pagan. I look forward to reading the rest of this in the morning.” He turned and headed back to his desk with a waddle.

Leif walked into the classroom grinning at me. “You coming, gorgeous? I know you like English Literature but it’s over for the day.”

Mr. Brown beamed at me. “Ah, yes, but anytime you want to stop in to discuss its beauty, please feel free.”

“Thank you, Mr. Brown.” That wouldn’t be happening but he really was a sweet, old man. A tad eccentric, but sweet.

“Don’t give her any ideas, Mr. Brown,” Leif teased as he took the books from my hands.

“Ah, the handsome man who owns her heart does not want to share,” Mr. Brown said with a grin that pushed his thick cheeks back only slightly.

Leif chuckled. “You’re correct.”

* * * *

“Now, tell me again what it is that you’re going to do that’s more important than shopping for the perfect winter boots?” Miranda’s right hand perched on her hip as she gaped at me as if I’d just spoken Spanish. I slipped my book 123

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bag up higher on my shoulder and kept my eyes on the parking lot.

“I’m going to go sign up for volunteer work at the hospital.” I didn’t have a real moral explanation for this. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Miranda how I felt the need to give of myself or whatever one would say that feels the need to go volunteer to help the sick and dying. The truth was I hated hospitals and Miranda knew this. She didn’t know why I hated them. She just knew I did. I’d never been able to explain to her how the wandering souls who filled the halls of the hospitals bothered me.

“So, you’re over the hospital dislike thingy now that you’ve spent a week in there?” she asked curiously. I shrugged because my stay had nothing to do with it.

“Guess so.” It was as good an excuse as any.

“Alright then, if you must go do something for the greater good of others while I go do something for the greater good of my winter wardrobe then I guess I’m good with that.” I flashed her a smile and then headed toward Leif’s car.

He’d left me his keys and said he would get a ride home with Justin. I’d fed him this “I want to go volunteer” stuff too. It wasn’t a total lie. I’d decided this was the best way to see enough souls without someone admitting me into the crazy ward for wandering the halls talking to myself. This way I had a reason to be there and I would find plenty of souls to speak to. Eventually, I would come across one that spoke.

“Call me when you get home from your good deeds and I’ll bring over my purchases and show you.”

“Okay, good luck,” I called as I unlocked the car door and slipped inside. For the first time in three days I had some hope. I kept remembering the look in Dank’s eyes Friday night as he held me. He’d been very real. The fact that no one seemed to think he’d ever walked the halls of our school didn’t mean I was going crazy. The fact was I had been seeing people no one else could see since birth. Something was different about me. This wasn’t breaking news. Dank had 124

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secrets and I was going to crack them. I needed to know because I needed him. The answer behind his leaving lay within his secrets and I knew if I could figure it out then I could find him and bring him back.

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Chapter Thirteen

I glanced down at my ID tag. My mother would be thrilled. This was going to look wonderful on my college applications. The more community service the better, well, as long as it’s voluntary and not mandatory. I’d been assigned the duty of reading to the children today since it was my first day and they didn’t have anyone to train me to do the more difficult jobs.

I stepped off the elevator at the pediatric floor and three of the souls I’d passed on the previous floor stood watching me. I nodded to them. “Hello,” I said brightly and they all seemed surprised. I turned and followed the directions the front desk volunteer had given me. It didn’t take me but a few moments to realize the pediatric floor was full of wandering souls. I walked past kids in wheelchairs watching me with curiosity. I smiled and said hello as I passed by them. My heart began to ache for reasons other than my loss.

Seeing the little smiles on their pale faces wasn’t easy. A little girl with long, red, curly hair caught my attention. She stood at the door to her hospital room staring, not at me but on either side of me and behind me with curiosity before looking directly at me. I slowed my walk and glanced back, realizing that most of the souls I had smiled at and spoken to were following me. She could see them. I stopped and studied her little, sweet face. She was standing up with the use of what appeared to be a walker. She glanced back at them again and smiled warmly and then her little eyes found me. “Do you see them?” I asked in a whisper, afraid others would hear me and think I was insane. She nodded sending her head of red curls bouncing around her.

“Do you?” she asked me in a loud whisper. I nodded.

“Cool,” she replied, grinning. I winked and then continued on my way to the activity room. I couldn’t stand and talk to a child in the halls about the souls we could both see without drawing attention. I’d never met anyone else who could see 126

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souls. It was hard to just walk away from her knowing little face. But I knew I would see her again. I intended to find her later.

I found the sky blue door with the quote,
“Today you are
You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is
Youer than You.” - Dr. Seuss
, painted on it in bright colors.

This was where I was supposed to be. I opened it up and immediately found the shelves of books to the right.

I turned back and smiled at the souls who’d followed me inside, “Do any of you have a suggestion?” They all studied me and some drew closer to watch me or touch me. I couldn’t feel them. “No one?” The room remained silent. I sighed and turned back to the books. “Very well, I’ll pick one out myself.”

“My favorite is Where the Wild Things Are.” I spun back around thinking a soul had finally spoken. The souls were all watching the little red headed girl from the hallway. She was standing at the open door smiling at me. “They won’t talk to you, you know. They can’t,” she said as she walked inside.

“They can’t?” I asked staring down into her eyes that appeared so much older than her little body.

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