Spiritdell Book 1 (18 page)

The address isn't far from here, if my knowledge of this part of town is correct, so I turn left at the next stop and head to the beautifully-written address. I stop at an empty lot. This is the location they gave me, so ... they weren't expecting me to come to them at four o'clock as arranged, now, were they? What had Heidi said about arranging different paths and futures? It makes my head hurt. This address was just a decoy, while they set me up with the tea to weaken my spirit-body connection. Evil. Totally evil.

I roll down the window of the car to get some fresh air. Three crows land on the ground, surrounding the car. They look around wildly, as though confused.

“I know you're up to something, you rotten crows,” I say.

Sirens wail nearby, probably heading to the fire. What time is it? I check my phone and realize Gran's due back at the airport shortly, on the plane she's taking back from the cruise ship's port.

I drive the borrowed car to the airport, to a long-term parking lot, where I wipe off all my fingerprints as best I can without drawing attention to myself. I'm parked next to some spots reserved for rental cars, and as I'm wiping off the exterior door handle with the hem of my shirt, a rental car pulls in next to me and a couple gets out.

The woman says to the man, “What did you think of that hotel clerk? Too many piercings, I should say. Somewhere, there's a mother who's deeply ashamed of the job she's done.”

The man unloads their suitcases without saying a word. Hanging from his neck is a good camera with a cheap lens. They're the same couple I saw in Chinatown, at the herbalist.

We make eye contact for an uncomfortable second before I look away.

It's merely a coincidence
, I tell myself. People really do repeatedly cross each other's paths all the time, and it doesn't always mean something.

* * *

I'm still buzzing with adrenaline when I meet Gran inside the airport. She's delighted that I've come to greet her off the plane, and I fib and say I took the bus. Rudy's not here because he stayed behind at the city where the cruise ended to see some family who live there.

“I have some news to tell you,” Gran says.

“Is it something to do with that enormous rock on your finger?” I ask. “Gosh, can you even lift your hand under the weight of that thing? Here, let me carry your bag. You've got enough to deal with.”

“Oh, Zan.” She drops everything and gives me the tightest hug. “Isn't life wonderful?” she says into my hair.

“I'm happy if you're happy,” I say, and I mean it.

“Good heavens, what did you do to your shoe?”

I gape down at my runners, one of which is missing its side, from where the battle-ax came down. My baby toe wiggles out as if to say,
Hi, I'm still here. You still have all your appendages, you
lucky boy.

“It's a trend thing, Gran, all the kids are doing it.”

“That's two fibs, Mister. I don't know what you've been up to, and I don't want to know.”

I laugh self-consciously. Gran's sharp. I never could get anything by her.

She fixes me with her no-bullcrap gaze. “How's the level on my Peppermint Schnapps?” she asks.

“You got me. Guilty,” I say.

“You're not so bad,” she says, giving me another hug.

We take a taxi ride home, and she talks the whole way about the wonderful buffets and the flower-arranging classes she took with Rudy. He was seasick and slightly green, but insisted they didn't miss a single thing she'd planned.

“Sounds like he's devoted to you,” I say.

She squeezes my hand. “I'm a lucky lady to have two handsome, kind men.”

I suppose there are worse people I could be compared to, so I take this as a compliment.

We get to the house, and as I'm carrying Gran's luggage in, she says, “I had the most unusual dream about your mother. She was glowing, like an angel.”

At the mention of my mother, a wave of sadness and gratitude washes over me. Angels. My mother and Austin are both angels, and they are watching over me. It makes me feel so loved and so lonely at the same time.

“Life can be hard sometimes,” Gran muses, “but that we even
have
life at all is in itself a miracle.”

“I don't know if I believe in miracles,” I say, at the same moment my cell phone buzzes.

I pull it out of my pocket and read the text, which is from Julie:
Jumping the phone tree. Austin is out of the coma. Austin is alive!

I step inside the house and fall to my knees. Mibs takes this as an invitation to put his tail up my nose. He's missed a dose of insulin and probably has high blood sugar and a headache, but he's going to be fine. He's alive, as am I, and Austin too.

Gran's talking, asking me what's happened, but I can't speak or look away from the cell phone.

“What's someone sent you?” Gran asks, peeking over my shoulder. “Coma? Alive? Good grief. Is that really appropriate material for text messaging?”

Once I'm able to speak again, I'll explain the situation to Gran. The thing about good news is you don't care how it's delivered. Someone could write good news on your forehead in felt pen while you're sleeping, but if it's actually
good
, you thank them.

* * *

When I get to the hospital, I go straight to Austin's room, from my memory of the time I floated here, and find a stranger in the bed. I panic for a second, thinking she's gone, but a nurse kindly directs me to Austin's new room. So much for being cool and having knowledge secretly acquired while out of body.

Austin seems confused when I walk in, and I worry she's forgotten about me—that I've been scooped out of her brain along with the nasty tumor.

“You're alive,” she says, finally. Her voice is quiet and small, her skin pale and her lips cracked, but she's still beautiful.

“I should say the same to you.”

I sit in the chair next to her bed. The room is so full of flowers and balloons, I wonder if the sheer mass of them might constitute a safety hazard. A pile of magazines sits on the table nearby: fashion, more fashion, knitting, and one about photography.

She must see me looking at the spine of the photography magazine, because she says, “I got that one for you, for when you visit.”

“I don't want to read magazines.”

“You might change your mind. I nap a lot.” She points to the paper bag on my lap. “What's in there?”

“Raisin bagels and dill cream cheese. You ran out of my house before you tried them.”

Slowly, she smiles, her face lighting up. “Maybe that's the reason I ran away.”

“I sure showed you, though. I tracked you down, and the nurses won't let you walk out of here, plus visiting hour isn't over for another forty minutes, so ...”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Oh, this
is
the date. We're on a date right now. I mean, if that's okay with you?”

Her gaze turns up to the ceiling for a moment. “Your mom thought we'd make a nice couple. So … sure, Zan, it's a date.”

“My mother? So you remember? It all happened?”

“I was ready to go with her, away from this world and all its pain,” Austin says, slowly moving her little hands to the left side of her chest. “Then she gave me something, and I knew I could live. I still feel her presence, in my heart.”

My own chest glows from within. “I feel her too.”

After a few seconds of silence, Austin says, “What else do you have planned for this date of ours? Someone brought me a jigsaw puzzle, and I could use some help.”

“Sounds perfect,” I say, and just like that, Austin and I are on our first date.

It's been almost four months since the surgery, and Austin's got a lot of recovery work ahead of her yet, but she's cancer-free for now. When she puts her finger in my belly button these days, instead of a clear single vision, I get euphoric, rushing glimpses of all the adventures we might have together. Nothing is set in stone or guaranteed, but I have hope, and that's how I like it.

Austin said when she was outside her body, my mother covered her in rubies and whispered something secret in her ear, and that's when she woke up. She won't tell me what my mother said, but I'll let her have that to herself. I did trample around inside her brain, peeking in doors, so it's only fair.

I visited Austin every day in the hospital, always bringing games and books, or occasionally some takeout food, because hospital food is not nearly as delicious as the stories you hear.

James teases me for dating an older lady. He calls her a cougar, but really, we're only separated by a few years. James and Julie came with me to visit her one day and brought her a gag gift—a cougar-print scarf, which has since become Austin's favorite item of clothing.

She loves bold, geometric prints and patterns on everything, the way Gran is about florals. Austin's second-favorite clothing item is a pair of rainbow-striped socks with individual toes. She wants to be a fashion designer, so I've been learning about everything from A-lines to hemlines and watching fashion shows on TV, which I'll admit are pretty entertaining.

It's the end of October now, tomorrow's Halloween, and I've settled in to the routine at school. Gran is engaged to her boyfriend Rudy, and they're going to get married soon, but they're planning to keep their separate houses, which is fine by me. I only see his rodeo-style belt buckles a few mornings a week and that's more than enough shiny brass for me.

I'm at my locker, trying to remember what class I'm going to be late for when Julie appears, slugging me on the shoulder.

“Juliebeans,” I say, which is a new nickname we're trying out.

“Sounds like something that gives you gas,” Julie says, shaking her head.

“Juliebear? Jujubes?”

“I don't know.” She sniffs, crinkling her nose.

“Jamtart-two?”

“How about just Julie for now?” she replies.

“Just Julie. JJ. JJ?”

“So, about this Halloween party tomorrow,” she says. “Who's going to play Mr. Pumpkin for your photo booth?” She leans sideways against the locker next to mine, tilting her head to touch the door in that cute Julie way. “Do you think I should ask Liam? I didn't tell you this, but we had kind of a moment over summer holiday. I was doing some shopping downtown, and I looked up and saw a guy flying through the sky in nothing but blue jeans.”

“Curious,” I say. “You must have been hallucinating.”

“Don't tease, I know it's crazy. But I was standing there in the middle of the crosswalk, staring at the sky, and Liam grabbed me by the arm and pulled me to safety, to the sidewalk. There were no cars around, whatsoever, but it was still heroic of him.”

“Sounds like he's a good guy, a keeper.”

“You're angling to get out of our engagement deal,” she says.

“Never. Is polygamy illegal or just immoral? I'll probably have to marry Austin too.”

She winks at me. “I think we'll work something out.”

“Now this party, are you sure you want Liam in a pumpkin suit, with all the other girls sitting on his lap for photos? Wiggling around and acting out their twisted Halloween fantasies?”

“Oh. You do have a good point, but I don't think Liam would take advantage of the situation. I wish I knew ... say, can I poke my finger in your belly button? You could maybe have a little peek at my future, see if I'm with Liam ... or how it's going.” She points her finger at my middle.

“Nope, closed for business. Until further notice.”

“Darn,” she says.

“Actually, I enjoy getting to know people the normal way—by asking a series of intrusive questions. Did you know that if you ask, people will tell you almost anything? Honestly, you don't even need any powers.”

Raye-Anne appears in front of us, a stack of books in her arms. “Hey guys, I'll walk you to Chemistry,” she says.

“Chemistry!” I grab the appropriate books.

Raye-Anne and Julie exchange compliments, each trying to outdo the other. “No, your hair is the best hair,” Raye-Anne says. “I wish mine would stand straight-up on top!”

I'm pleased Raye-Anne has taken to Julie. They were always somewhat friendly, but Julie didn't have a lot of close girlfriends until this fall, when she and Raye-Anne bonded over their mutual fondness for and subsequent rejection by me. Of course they insist it's not about me at all, but their shared love of weird foods, like blueberry soup.

After I told her about my troubling vision of Raye-Anne, Julie promised to keep a close eye on her, steering her away from trouble. I still don't know how much we can change our destinies, but I do know we can't stop trying.

“Buddy!” James whacks me on the shoulder.

He's getting even stronger now that he's been eating steaks on occasion, and I try not to flinch, but that punch hurt.

“So this Mr. Pumpkin thing is like being Santa?” he asks Julie. “Girls can sit on my lap? Count me in, but I'm not wearing a beard. I don't want to cover up all this handsome face.”

“Try not to get yourself face-punched,” Julie says. Raye-Anne laughs into her hand, revealing that despite being sworn to secrecy, Julie blabbed about Facepuncher. I can't say I blame her, though—I told four or five people myself, including Gran.

The school's hallways empty and the four of us get to the Chemistry room, where we take our places on the low desks between the sinks.

I pull out my notebook and begin to doodle, waiting for class to begin. Tomorrow night, at James and Julie's Halloween party, Austin will make her public debut as my girlfriend. I saw her every day when she was in the hospital, but not as much recently. She gets tired easily, and she's been busy with hospital visits and rehabilitation.

Tomorrow, I'm dressing as Charlie Chaplin, because he's cool and doesn't have to say much. Austin says she has the perfect scary costume, but it's a secret. I hope she's not a witch.

I look down at the doodles I'm absent-mindedly drawing in my notebook and smudging all over my left hand. Crows. I've filled the margins with crows. I wonder what that means.

*THE END*

Author's note: I hope you enjoyed reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it! I've been publishing since 2011, and have over 20 books under two of my pen names: