The Reason (8 page)

"Good shot, Ryan!" Taylor shouts, backing it up with a hearty clap.

The cheerleaders, led by my former nemesis turned polite acquaintance Courtney Langdon, move from the front row of the bleachers out to the middle of the court to do a pyramid during the time-out. I glance over at Jason kneeling on one knee and swabbing his drenched face with a white towel. The weight of the world is on his young shoulders, yet he's playing like a champion. He's already got twelve points, and RHS is up by three.

When the action resumes, Ryan MacKenzie is fouled by the Falcons with only a few seconds left in the game. Stephanie Crawford, a friend of mine on the squad, begins to cheer, and we all join in.

"Up in the air, round the rim, come on, Ryan, put it in! Sink it! Sink it! Come on, Ryan, sink it!"

He nails the first shot, nearly stripping the net. All of us RHS faithful who traveled to the game are on our feet. When Ryan misses the second shot and it bounces off the rim, Jason snags the rebound and slams the ball home. Why am I not surprised? Not because I know what an awesome player he is—which he is—but because a minute before it happened, I had a bit of a déjà vu moment where I saw Jason move in for the slam-dunk kill. It's the first time I've ever really had a connection to something Jason based, and my soul tingles in delight knowing we've bonded on such a cosmic level. Of course, Jason would merely roll his eyes at me if I told him. So, instead, I join the rest of the RHSers in flooding the Falcons' floor to congratulate our team.

When Jason sees me, he picks me up in his strong grip and holds me close to his sweaty body. He's got that boy ick smell to him, but I don't care. There's more to this embrace than the simple victory of a high school basketball team. Jason's thanking me for this morning as well. Words don't have to be exchanged ... I just know.

"We're all headed back to Radisson after we change," he tells me. "After the team bus drops us off, I'll get my Jeep. Then meet up with us at Finnian's Restaurant, okay?" He leans in for a quick kiss that tastes salty.

"Sure thing," I manage to say in my swoony state. I find my posse and ask if they're ready to go.

"I'm gonna ride with Dragon," Becca says. Dragon's actually Brent Dragisich, her boyfriend, who decided to show up at the game even though he'd told her earlier that it was "lame."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, no prob. Where are y'all meeting up?" she asks.

"Finnian's."

"See ya there."

I turn to Celia. "Where's Taylor?"

Celia points to an older couple. "She's with Ryan's parents, over there. He's not taking the bus back to Radisson, so she's gonna ride with them."

I crinkle my smile. "Looks like it's just you and me, kid."

Celia laughs and we head back out to my car.

Fifteen minutes later, we're returning to Radisson on the winding back roads. "Why didn't we follow the team bus and take the interstate?"

Celia looks at her cell phone. "The GPS said this way was quicker."

I roll my eyes at her and keep driving. Such a techno geek. If it lights up, beeps, or connects to the Internet, Celia Nichols
must
have it in her possession. And I'm not convinced that the GPS is all that it's cracked up to be. Why in the world would it take us on County Road 215 when just twenty miles down the road there's a perfectly good interstate highway that President Eisenhower took a lot of trouble to have built for us.

Whatev. "Crank up that Kaskade CD. I just got the new one and it's totally awesome."

Celia inserts the disk into my player and we jam out as I concentrate on the dimly lit road with the thick yellow lines.

"So, did I tell you about this new piece of equipment I've ordered?" Celia asks. "It's called the Ovilus and we can use it in our investigations."

"A what?"

"Ovilus. It's made by this guy who's a former engineer. It's got an array of sensors that detect various environmental conditions. It adds all of the data together and equates that value with a word from the dictionary."

"Whoa, Geek Girl. That's way over my head," I say with a laugh. "In English, please?"

Celia snickers. "It has a dictionary that will speak out, and supposedly it's spirits coming through. I had Loreen order one because the guy doesn't like to sell to underage people. She's going to learn how to use it and bring it on our next investigation."

"Okay, that sounds cool. Just another tool in our ghost-hunting kit. Just like me," I say. Celia's always referring to me as a tool in her ghost-hunting kit.

"Absomalutely," she says. "He's got a website called
Digital-Dowsing.com
—he's looking to make you and your pendulum obsolete."

"Never," I say firmly.

"You should check out his website. He's got this other thing called the paranormal puck that—oh my God, Kendall! Watch out!"

Celia's bloodcurdling scream scares the holy shit out of me and I blink hard to focus on the road ahead. Out of nowhere, a deer has suddenly appeared in the middle of the winding road, its eyes shining with the reflection of my headlights. I jerk the wheel to the left and concentrate on keeping the Fit on the road and not in the nearby ditch as I try to avoid slamming into Bambi's mom and making her a permanent fixture on my hood.

Celia's got the sissy bar firmly in her grip, and both of our seat belts lock up, pulling us snugly back into the bucket seats. I apply the brakes firmly, just like my driver's ed teacher taught me, and try not to panic as I bring the car to a stop. The road is deserted save for us and the near-roadkill. The deer eyeballs me with something resembling street attitude in her face and then scampers across the road to safety.

My breathing is staggered and I find it hard to steady it. Tears sting at the back of my eyes, but I won't let them fall. I did everything I was supposed to do. I kept the car under control and no one was hurt. I've seen pictures of what deer can do to automobiles. We just dodged a huge venison-filled bullet.

"Jesus, Kendall. That was close. Good driving," Celia exclaims. She peels her hand off the sissy bar and takes a deep breath.

Before I can get my own breathing back to normal, I'm struck blind by a vision. White light flashes in my face like a thousand headlights. Screeches and screams fill my ears. "Jason! No!"

"Kendall, what's wrong?" Celia shouts, trying to snap me back.

I throw her arm off me. "I see it, clear as day. Oh God! Not Jason."

Celia nearly begs. "Stop, Kendall! It's okay."

It's
not
okay! "Jason's at the wheel of his Jeep. Something's wrong. Something's happened to him. I can't see it clearly, but I know I have to get to him."

"Whoa, girlfriend." Celia reaches out to me again. "It's just a vision, Kendall. It'll be okay. Shake it off. We had a close call with the deer and nothing else. We both had on our seat belts and you're a damn good driver, so all is well."

I blink hard, regaining my sight after the vision. Emily materializes in the back seat with a look on her face that I can only describe as
relieved.
I feel almost like her hands had been on the wheel with mine, helping me steer away from trouble.

I thank her silently in my mind. She smiles and fades away.

"All right. Let's get going," I say, feeling as composed as I'm going to be.

"The GPS says we're twelve miles from Radisson."

"Oh, the hell with your GPS," I say. "I'm following the road signs."

We enter the city limits fifteen minutes later and pull into the parking lot of Finnian's Restaurant. Instead of a celebratory gathering of RHSers, there seems to be some sort of ruckus, and Jason Tillson's Jeep is the center of everything.

Holy shit ... did my vision come true?

I slam the parking brake on and jump out of the car, barely getting the key out of the ignition. Jason's standing outside of the Jeep, doubled over, huffing and puffing and gasping for breath.

"Jason!"

"Kendall! Thank God you're okay!"

Kyle Kadish calls out, "Dude, good thing
you're
okay. That could have been gnarly!"

I rush to Jason's side and we hug like nobody's business. "I saw something bad happening to you," I say quickly. "Tell me nothing's wrong."

Jason looks me squarely in the eye, shock covering his handsome face. "No effing way. I almost got plowed by an eighteen-wheeler just now turning into the parking lot. The guy totally ran the red light and almost slammed the Jeep."

I'm on the verge of tears. This is too much for a seventeen-year-old to take. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"It wasn't all the trucker's fault," Sean Carmickle chimes in. "Tillson, I was riding with you. Your mind was three counties away. What the hell?"

On my tiptoes, I glance up at my boyfriend. "Jason?"

"I couldn't help it, K. I was distracted because something told me that you were in danger. I don't know who it was or where it came from. It was enough to jar my attention away from driving and I almost didn't see that damn truck."

"Good thing Kadish screamed like a twelve-year-old girl," Sean says with a snicker.

Kyle reaches over and pops Sean on the shoulder, kiddingly, but I see nothing funny about any of this.

"Celia and I almost hit a deer," I admit. "Like, it could have been bad."

"Kendall..." Jason's face reads pure fright. I'm sure mine mirrors his. "What does this mean?"

I'm not a hundred percent sure, but I suspect that there's a cosmic connection between Jason and me that's deeper than either of us realize.

I don't have a clue what to do about it, so I just close my eyes and hold on tightly to him for as long as I can.

Celia doesn't miss a heart beat. "That's some deep shit."

"You said a mouthful, my friend."

T
HE MASS ENDS A LITTLE EARLY
S
UNDAY MORNING,
so I hang behind in the church while Father Massimo talks to the exiting parishioners. His sermon was about total faith in God and not living in fear of the unknown. Geesh—was he preaching directly to me?

"Hey, Kendall. How's everything going with the ghost hunting?" Father Massimo asks as he reenters the sanctuary. He's tall with jet-black hair and dark eyes to match. I can see why Loreen might be falling for him—he's cute, in an older guy sort of way. I mean, he's like in his midthirties!

"Hey there, Father." Trying to keep it light, I ask, "How was your hot date with Loreen?"

Did my Episcopal priest just blush? Too cute!

"She's a nice lady and I enjoy spending time with her," he says with a slight smirk. I can see he's not going to satiate my need for gossip.

"Is that what you old people are calling it these days? Spending time?" I giggle and twist away from his playful swat.

His mood darkens and he frowns black brows at me. "I know you didn't stay after church to ask me about my love life. I know you, Kendall Moorehead. Something's bothering you. Do you need more holy water for your investigations?"

"No, sir," I say, switching gears. "I do need advice, though."

"That's what I'm here for," he says with a smile.

We move up to the choir loft and sit together on the hard benches where I pour my heart out to him, telling him everything, from the dream/vision of Emily, then the one of my death, and finally to what happened last night, when Jason and I both avoided accidents at the exact same time.

"What's going on, Father? I'm literally afraid of my own shadow now."

"Kendall, with your finding you psychic abilities and subsequent ghost hunting, you've really opened yourself up to the angels, the universe ... to anyone that wants to reach out and contact you. You're a magnet to those who have messages to get through. I do believe God gave you these abilities so you can help others, not for you to fear what might happen to you." He reaches over and takes my hand. "You're a strong girl, Kendall. Loreen and I have both seen it. You've embraced your talents and you've cultivated more along the way. Look at all of the lost souls you and your group have helped so far. You can't let fear of the unknown get you down."

My hand shakes underneath his and I try to calm my nerves. That close call with the deer last night really freaked me out. It seems that I need to spend all my energies and efforts on being safe. I'm obsessed with it.

Father Mass obviously picks up on this. "Kendall, you need to let go and let God."

I snicker. "That's not from the Bible, that's from Alcoholics Anonymous, isn't it?"

He cocks his head to the side. "It's the message that counts. Come on, where's the spunky gal I know who doesn't let anything get her down?"

I bite my lip, then say, "She's had hell and four dollars scared out of her."

My priest stands and points his finger at me. "Then I think you need to stop obsessing and find other interests in your life besides ghost hunting. While being psychic will always be a part of who you are, it's doesn't have to be everything, Kendall. Join a club at school. Find a new hobby. Something to take your mind off death. Anything done to extreme is detrimental to one's state of mind. Try it tomorrow, Kendall. Trust me. It'll help."

How can I not trust him? He's a priest.

"Okay, I'll try."

"I don't know how I let you talk me into this," I mutter to Taylor Monday after school. I mentioned to her last night the thing that Father Mass said about finding other interests, and damn if Taylor didn't drag me into her after-school world.

Yearbook.

I don't exactly know what I can offer the RHS annual. I've got zero talent in photography, my writing is only good enough for English papers and other school assignments, and I wouldn't know a good page layout if it bit me on the nose. I certainly don't have the social connections here at school to help out with the gossip fodder, so I can't see this being very productive for me.

"You must be Kendall," a cute brunette with dark brown glasses says to me. She's holding a clipboard with an authoritative grip, and I know she must be some big muckety-muck on the yearbook staff.

Extending my right hand, I shake her outstretched one in a very professional manner. "Kendall Moorehead at your service."