Misfit (28 page)

“Yeah, Britt. I’m here.” She walks over to Britt’s bed.

“I need to get some fresh air,” says Ms. Brougher. “I’l let you guys have some privacy.”

When Ms. Brougher is gone, Britt smiles faintly.

“She’s been here the whole time. I don’t know if she’s even gone to the bathroom. . . .”

“So, how are you feeling?” asks Jael.

“The drugs they’ve got me on are pretty intense, so I don’t real y feel much pain. But I can’t see too wel right now. My eyes won’t focus.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

“I guess I got kidnapped by some cult. When I got here last night, I was pretty messed up and screaming about monsters and demons. . . .” She swal ows and it sounds like it hurts.

“The police think they drugged both me and my mom.

I don’t remember a lot. Some guy with these real y intense blue eyes. A lot of time wandering around the city . . . and for some reason I remember the Mons, Father Aaron, and Father Ralph . . . but I know that can’t be true. It’s like a dream, you know? Most of it doesn’t make any sense.”

“Do the police know who did it?”

“I don’t know,” says Britt. “They don’t tel me much.”

She squints toward the doorway. “Someone else here?”

“Hey, yeah, Britt,” says Rob, and he steps a little closer.

“Sorry, I just didn’t want to get in the way.”

Britt closes her eyes and smiles slightly.

“Rob McKinley and Jael Thompson,” she says. “I total y cal ed that, like, a year ago.”

“So is there anything we can do?” asks Jael.

“I wish I could watch TV or read a magazine,” says Britt. “I wish I could see something clearly.”

Rob nudges Jael’s foot. Jael looks back at him and he’s cocking his head toward Britt and mouthing silently, “Heal her.”

She mouths back, “What?”

He points at the spot between his eyes.

Jael looks at Britt, who seems to be fal ing asleep, then back at Rob.

He nods encouragingly.

She reaches out hesitantly and touches her fingertip to the same spot on Britt’s head. She asks Britt’s eyes to focus.

Britt’s eyes snap open. She sits up slightly in the bed and looks directly at Jael. “My eyes . . . ,” she says.

She looks around the room. At Rob, at the machines in her room, and final y at her own broken leg.

“Thank God,” she says with a sigh. “That was the worst part. Not being able to see how bad it was.

Anything would have probably been better than what I pictured in my head.”

“You can see fine now?” asks Jael.

“Yeah. How weird is that? Something must have just slipped back in place.”

“That’s great,” says Jael.

Britt leans back in her bed. “Ouch,” she says. “That was maybe a little more movement than I’m ready for.”

Then she looks back at Jael and a frown rumples up the bandages and stitches.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” she says.

“What?” says Jael, unable to hide the panic in her voice.

“You dropped me at the hospital.”

“Oh,” says Jael. “Yeah.”

“I thought so, but I didn’t tel anyone.” She looks down at Jael’s bandaged hands. “They hurt you too, didn’t they?”

“Yeah,” says Jael.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into it.”

“No, it’s their fault. Those guys that did this to us.”

“They’re stil out there, aren’t they?”

“No,” says Jael. “I . . . took care of them.”

“You . . . ,” says Britt. “How?”

Jael just continues to look down at her hands.

“I don’t want to know, do I?” asks Britt.

“No.”

Britt looks up at the ceiling and takes a slow, deep breath.

“Thanks,” she says.

Jael nods.

The little machine attached to Britt’s IV whirs as it dispenses medication.

“And thanks for coming to visit,” says Britt. “You too, Rob.

Nobody else . . .”

“Of course we came,” says Jael. “What are best friends for?”

“I remember . . .” Britt’s eyes are getting hazy and her voice sounds dreamy. Like whatever was just put into her IV is real y knocking her out. “I said some stuff to you, didn’t I? Mean stuff.

I can’t real y remember why, but . . .”

“It’s okay,” says Jael. “It’s over.”

“Yeah,” says Britt and her eyes close. “It’s over. Water under the bridge. Trip trap, trip trap . . .” Then she’s asleep.

“I can’t believe she forgot everything,” says Rob as they’re walking through the hal s to the exit.

“She hasn’t,” says Jael. “I think she remembers al of it.

She just doesn’t understand or believe it.” Jael thinks of those memories she saw in Britt’s soul. “She’s real y good at believing what she wants to believe and ignoring the rest.”

“I guess we al are, in a way,” says Rob.

“Not me,” says Jael. “Not anymore.”

They walk on in silence for a little while.

“How did you know I could do that?” asks Jael. “Heal her.”

“No idea,” says Rob with a shrug.

“Skater Zen,” says Jael.

They step out of the bright, harsh hospital and into the dark, wet night. The wind and rain greet Jael like eager puppies. She stops a moment and just stands there, breathing in a smel so fresh and alive that it washes away al her tension.

She looks up into the night sky at the endless expanse of stars that spreads in al directions. She feels it pul at her spirit.

This time she doesn’t fight it, though. She rides it like a wave.

She trusts that it won’t let her fal . It’s cold out there among the stars, and lonely. But that’s OK. She’s been both of those things and she knows it won’t kil her. Since she stays calm, she is able to see that it is terrible, but also beautiful. And when it’s time, she slips right back down to the ground and into her body where she belongs. She shivers and sighs.

“Uh . . . ,” says Rob. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” says Jael. “It is.”

They take the bus back to Jael’s house. When they’re at the door, Rob says, “I got to get home. You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” says Jael, and she smiles. “Thanks for coming.”

They stand there for a moment. Rob seems suddenly a little nervous.

“So. . . do you have any plans for Friday?” he says.

“Wel , I was planning on kicking it with a few angels, but .

. .”

Rob stares at her.

“Kidding, Rob. Kidding.”

“Are angels real too?”

“How would I know?”

“I don’t know . . . maybe . . .”

“They probably do exist, but I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t be interested in hanging out with me.”

“Wel , anyway,” he says. “Are you doing anything?”

“No, why?”

“My mom said I could borrow her car.”

“Wait, are you? . . .”

“A real date,” says Rob. “You know. Dinner, movie,

“A real date,” says Rob. “You know. Dinner, movie, the works. You can even pick the movie.”

“Like, a dumb romantic comedy?” she asks.

“The dumbest you can find.”

“How about a dumb, foreign romantic comedy?”

“I do not fear subtitles.”

“But I don’t want you to pay for everything,” she says.

“Pay?” he says. “I’m total y hurt. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s exploiting hookups from friends.”

“Right,” says Jael. “The amazing McKinley hookup.”

“Great,” says Rob. “See you tomorrow at school?”

“Yeah, I think I’m ready,” she says.

He steps in quickly and kisses her, soft and sweet.

Their breath mingles and she leans into him, holding him, but not too tight this time. When she’s this close, she can feel the hum of his soul through his skin and it’s enough. It’s just right. They are together.

“Good night,” he whispers into her ear. He slips away, looking back at her with that smile, then walks down the street humming to himself.

Jael stands there for a little while, watching him go, his taste and smel stil lingering. She’s beginning to understand that she has to savor these little moments, hold on to them for as long as she can. They always seem like they wil last forever. But they don’t. So she has to take them as they come.

When Jael walks into the kitchen, she is greeted by an unexpected sight: Ms. Spielman sitting at the kitchen table with her father.

“Ah, Jael,” says Ms. Spielman as she stands up. “Your father said you’d had an accident and I wanted to see how you were feeling.”

Jael gives her father a look, wondering what kind of accident he told her about. He just nods encouragingly to her.

“Yeah, I’m feeling okay,” she says.

“Wel , I know rock climbing is very popular,” says Ms.

Spielman, “but could you stick with the more moderate cliffs for a while?”

“Sure,” Jael says.

“Oh, good,” says Ms. Spielman. She turns to Jael’s father.

“Paul, see you tomorrow.”

“Of course,” he says, and smiles.

“Jael, I brought a get-wel card signed by your class, but I must have left it in my car. Why don’t you come with me to get it?”

“Okay,” says Jael. As she fol ows Ms. Spielman out to the street, she says, “That was nice of everybody.”

“Wel , of course,” says Ms. Spielman as she unlocks her car door and leans in to pick up a card. “Your classmates adore you.”

“They do?”

“Certainly. It’s almost as if they can’t help themselves.”

She hands Jael the card.

As Jael takes it, Ms. Spielman looks at her bandaged wrists.

“Yikes,” she says. “Looks like that hurts.”

“It does a little,” says Jael.

Ms. Spielman reaches out and takes hold of Jael’s wrists.

It’s so unexpected and it happens so fast, Jael doesn’t have time to react. But instead of more pain, she feels a sudden warmth, then al the pain is gone.

“What? . . .” she says as Ms. Spielman releases her wrists.

She rotates them experimental y, then opens up the bandages.

She is completely healed. She looks back at Ms.

Spielman.

“How? . . .”

“Remember, Jael. There are many mysteries in life.

And not al of them are monsters.”

Ms. Spielman winks at her, then gets into her car and drives away without another word.

Jael walks slowly back into the house.

“Dad,” she says. “You can do magic, right?”

Her father looks up from chopping vegetables at the counter.

“To an extent. Why?”

“Are there other mortals out there who can do magic?”

“There are al different kinds of people who do many different kinds of magic. Some priests truly have the power to exorcise demons, and sometimes other abilities as wel . And then there are priests or ministers in other religions. For example, my friend Poujean is now a powerful and wel respected bokur, or priest, in the Vodoun religion of Haiti. There are also mages, mortals with a demon familiar that they can channel magic through. That’s what I am. Or was, real y. There are oracles, who can tel the future to a greater or lesser extent. Empaths can read spiritual auras. And of course a wide variety of witches and healers, al with varying abilities.” His eyes narrow.

“Now, why do you ask?”

“Wel ,” says Jael, rubbing one of her wrists. “Either it’s those awesome smoothies you made, or else Ms.

Spielman just total y healed my wrists.”

“I see,” says her father. “I had a feeling she was more than she appeared to be.”

“So . . . should we do something?”

“Did you thank her for healing your wrists?”

“Uh . . . no.”

“Then you should do that.”

“Right.”

After dinner that night, Jael and her father wash and dry the dishes together.

“I stil can’t believe it,” he says as he rinses the last dish and hands it to Jael to dry. “That we don’t have to hide from Belial anymore. What an incredible relief.”

He shuts off the water and turns to her. A broad smile creases his face, and for just an instant Jael sees the man her mother loved.

“Yeah,” she says. “About that, Dad . . .”

“What?” he asks, his eyes narrowing.

“Wel ,” she says, “Belial isn’t the only Grand Duke of Hel .”

“Sure.” He nods. “There’s Lamia, Grand Duchess of the West; Aguares, Grand Duke of the East; and Beelzebub, Grand Duke of the South. And that’s not even mentioning the less-civilized provinces outside the duchies.”

She stares at him.

“What?” he says. “You thought I didn’t know? That I was under the impression that our troubles were over?”

“Um, kinda,” admits Jael. “You’re acting like it’s al no big deal now.”

He holds out his hand to her. Hesitantly, she puts her hand in his, and he brings her in close.

“It’s a very big deal,” he says quietly, his eyes locked to hers.

“Don’t ever doubt that. Every moment we live is a moment stolen from fate. The difference is that before, I didn’t think we stood a chance. That we would be cut down by the first marauding demon to cross our path. But now you have shown me that we do have a chance, however slim.

“Your mother went on and on about your potential and I always thought it was just the normal talk of an adoring mother.

But now I believe her. And your uncle. And you. Now I have hope. And for an aging, jaded demon hunter, that’s a big deal too.”

“It’s so crazy to think that you used to be some kind of international demon hunter,” Jael says.

“Oh, sure,” he says. “Your mother and I . . . we were quite the team.”

“Wow,” says Jael, and shakes her head.

He smiles at her teasingly. “What, you think we fel in love and then immediately had you?”

“How would I know?” says Jael. “You never talked about her.”

“Yes,” he says, his smile fading. “You’re right.

Because I didn’t want to lie to you about her, but I also didn’t want to tel you the truth about her either.” He shakes his head. “Probably not one of my better decisions.”

Remember that it has been difficult for your father as wel , her mother had said in that first letter. He has carried a burden no mortal should ever be asked to carry.

“It’s okay, Dad,” she says, and pats his hand awkwardly.

He looks back at her, a hint of gratefulness in his expression.

“Sometimes I think I wasn’t real y cut out to be a father,” he says.

She smirks at him. “Ya think?”