Authors: Judy Blundell
I don’t know how I talk Diego into it, but I do. There’s no danger, I tell him. It’s a public park! There will be two- and three-year-olds running around with their parents! It will be broad daylight! And most of all, I tell him, hammering the point home until he begs for mercy, we
know
what we’re heading into. Whoever that girl is that I saw on the bench—she doesn’t have a clue.
Technically, Shay hasn’t given Diego permission to take the car to Seattle. Okay,
definitely,
Shay hasn’t given permission. Diego isn’t crazy about not telling her again. He got away with it once, but he doesn’t want to push it. That’s the toughest part of convincing him. He just doesn’t lie to his mom. Ever. I’m not sure why he gives in, but he does.
We don’t say much on the drive. Even though there’s nothing to be nervous about in a certain way, there’s everything to be nervous about in another way, so we just sit, listening to the radio and vibrating along with the tunes and our nerves.
We park. We hang out by the Sno-Cones for a while, seeing if a young girl buys one, but only a couple of people come by.
“Let’s scout out the bench,” Diego says.
We walk through the gardens, looking at the benches. When I see the one that was in my vision, I stop dead. There’s something so real about it. I’ve never been in this part of the park with Shay, but I know this bench. I know the texture of the wood and the curve of the slats. This is the first time that something in my vision really comes true, something I can see. The pattern of the leaves overhead, the trampling of the grass in front, everything is just as I had seen it. It spooks me.
“This one?” Diego asks. He looks kind of spooked, too.
I nod.
Toddlers are beginning to arrive in the gardens, along with their parents. A pair of guides appear and start talking about “nature’s marvelous wonders.” They speak in that overly animated way that people do when they’re around kids, and most of the toddlers are ignoring them while their parents are enthralled. The parents keep trying to drum up their kid’s enthusiasm, saying, “Listen to the nice man, Dylan!” and “Remember how much you like ladybugs, Marina!” The sun is filtering through the leaves, and suddenly it seems like the worst thing that could possibly happen here would be a two-year-old throwing a tantrum.
The toddler pack moves off down the path, but
we can hear them. We stand there for a moment, but it’s obvious that we can’t remain.
We can’t scare off whoever is coming.
“We’d better keep moving,” Diego says. “If we stay between here and the entrance to the garden, nobody can get around us. If only we had a toddler for protective coloration.”
I bend down and pick up one of the brochures that a parent had dropped. I hand it to Diego. “Try this. At least you don’t have to buy it ice cream.”
There’s a place to hang by the entrance where we can stay behind some trees. I fidget. The shadows on the ground are telling me that this is it, this is the time my vision took place.
I see someone familiar heading toward us.
To my surprise, it’s Dora.
I elbow Diego and point.
“She’s in the computer camp,” I say.
I notice now that she’s eating a Sno-Cone. I feel a shiver rise all along my body.
We’re on the right track after all.
Dora doesn’t notice me. She walks past us, looking at her watch.
She is meeting someone.
Diego and I give each other a “what should we do now” look.
“I’ll go scope out Dora,” I say. “You stay here. If you see Marcus or Ryan, follow him.”
Diego frowns. “Be careful. Is your cell phone on?”
“It’s on.” We’ve already decided to call each other only in an emergency. I take off down the path.
Dora sits on the bench, eating her Sno-Cone. I stop. She hasn’t seen me yet, and I could keep going and pass her by, but I can’t.
I tell myself Dora can take care of herself.
I tell myself that the important thing is to wait to see who shows up.
But I see her bitten fingernails around the white cone, how her toes are dirty in her sandals, and suddenly I can
feel
her as well as I see her.
I know her unhappiness is deep and wide.
I know that her mother is an alcoholic.
I see Dora, wearing a short nightgown, pick her mother off the floor and put her to bed.
I know that she thinks she’s at a dead end, and this is her only way out.
She spots me. I could have waved and walked away, but I come forward.
“Hi.”
“Hey.”
Not a promising start. I sit on the bench. “Nice day.”
She half-turns. “Look, hello and everything, but I’m meeting someone, so if you don’t mind?”
“Who are you meeting?”
“Excuse me, are you my mother?” Dora asks nastily.
“Just making conversation.”
“Don’t bother. Do you
mind?”
Dora leans over and dumps out the rest of her Sno-Cone. I am not surprised when she doesn’t crumple it up. She puts the empty cone down on the bench upside down, like a tent, just the way it was in my vision. She slams it down as though she’s marking her territory, making a kind of barrier between us.
I look down at the cherry ice seeping into the ground. The red color is so intense. The stain grows in my mind and I flash into the vision of the blood on the beach.
And suddenly, I know this:
Dora has to get out of here.
“You’ve got to go,” I say.
Dora narrows her eyes. She has lined them with black pencil, and she’s wearing lipstick. She has fixed herself up.
“Is it Marcus? Is it Ryan? Who is it?”
“What is
wrong
with you?” she asks, leaning back to put distance between us.
“Tell me who it is!”
“It’s Marcus,” she says. “Jealous?”
Marcus. It is Marcus.
“Listen, I’m psychic,” I say. “Really. And I see things.”
She smirks. “You see dead people?”
“I see your mother lying on the kitchen floor,” I say. “She needs help, and you can’t give it. You can’t save her. You tried and now you’re just angry.”
Her expression changes. “Hey…”
“Your kitchen has an orange sink,” I say. “Your nightgown has yellow flowers. You have a birthmark on your knee. A butterfly tattoo in the small of your back. Once your mother left you alone for two weeks, and you didn’t tell anyone because you were afraid she was dead.”
“Nobody knows that,” Dora says, a look of fear on her face.
"Nobody knows that.”
“Your dishtowels have green stripes,” I say. “Your dish drainer is white. Your mother’s blanket is blue.”
She is pressed back against the bench now. “What do you want?”
“Get out of here,” I say. “Run. What do you think happened to Kendall and Emily? If you see him, don’t stop.” The danger is like the roar of surf in my ears.
"Get out of here!”
Dora shoots to her feet. She gives me a last look, and then she takes off. Running. I don’t know if she’s spooked by me, or my warning. It doesn’t matter.
I notice that my hands are trembling. I tuck them in my armpits. I expect Diego to show up at any moment, running, to tell me that Marcus has entered the park.
But instead, Jonah Castle rounds the bend, sees me, and smiles.
“Dora?” he says.
"I thought Marcus was coming,” I say.
“He’s at the party,” he says.
“Oh,” I say. What party?
He settles down on the bench next to me, giving the empty cone a brief, puzzled glance. “It’s good to meet you. Marcus says you might need help.”
My brain is buzzing like a hive. I’ve got to keep following this, but I’m lost. I try to come up with Dora’s defensive attitude. “Not really.”
He smiles pleasantly. He’s got a narrow face, and his eyes are bright blue and interested behind his wire rims. He’s wearing a polo shirt and pleated khakis, standard nerd attire. Boat shoes and white socks. I try to get something from him, some kind of wave, the way I’ve done with strangers. Sometimes people have something that is so present on their minds that I can just pick it up like a radio station. But Jonah Castle is a blank. I can’t get anything from him.
“Oh, okay,” he says genially. “I guess he got it wrong. Marcus is a mysterious guy.”
“I’ll say.”
“He said you were upset at camp the other day,” he says. “He wants to help, that’s all.”
“The way he helped Kendall Farmer?”
He looks blank. “Kendall Farmer? Should I know her?”
“She was in the camp last year,” I say. “She ran away.”
“Oh. And Marcus tried to help her? I’m not surprised, he’s such a good guy.”
You think so?
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Marcus never mentioned her to me.” He hooks two hands around a knee. “I lost a sister, you know. So I know about loss. Guilt. All that stuff. I know how bad feelings can grow inside you until they feel like they can eat you alive. I know how scary that can be, and how the fear can add to it until you just want to run and run to get away. But there’s no place to run to. You know that saying, ‘Wherever you go, there you are’?”
No, I don’t know it. But I like how true it is. I’m listening now.
“So I started this thing, this focus group foundation. I mean, Megawall has the computer camp, and other charities, but my foundation doesn’t get any publicity. I don’t want reporters around, poking into people’s privacy. I’m out to revolutionize how social services treat at-risk kids. I’ve got scholars and shrinks on the payroll, but mostly it’s the kids themselves who have come up with the ideas.
Bright kids like you. When I asked Marcus if he knew anyone I could talk to, he mentioned you. I hope you don’t mind.”
“My life is none of his business,” I say.
“No, it isn’t. And if you don’t want to get involved, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t get mad at Marcus. Remember, I’m his boss, in a way.” Jonah Castle smiles. “I can’t deny that even if I don’t use my leverage, it’s there.”
I can’t get a read on this guy. Never mind the paranormal, the normal me can’t read him, either. I feel apprehensive, but I don’t know if I can connect the feeling to Jonah Castle. Everything about him tells me that he’s an ordinary mega-billionaire looking to unload some millions on charity so he can sleep at night. But somehow he’s connected to Marcus, and Marcus asked Dora to meet him here.
Could Jonah Castle’s foundation be the key? Marcus directs troubled kids to the foundation. But not all of them. Some of them, he keeps for himself. Maybe he’d targeted Dora, only Jonah Castle got in his way.
It’s hard to think and carry on a conversation at the same time. I focus back on Jonah Castle. “I don’t think of myself as an at-risk kid,” I say. “At risk for what?”
He laughs. “Yeah, here I am saying social services is messed up, and I’m using their terms. Let’s just say this: You need a home where you can feel safe.”
That breaks like a wave of longing inside me. Those two words.
Home. Safe.
When those two things get taken away from you, there’s no other feeling more desolate. Maybe Jonah Castle knows what he’s talking about.
“Listen,” he says. “We’re having a party for the third anniversary of the foundation. Most of the kids we’ve helped will be there. It’s right in the park—that’s why Marcus suggested this place to meet. Would you like to come?”
My antenna is up, but it’s not picking up danger. There will be plenty of people there. Jonah Castle will be there, other adults. Diego is nearby.
My cover will be blown if Marcus sees me, but I don’t care. I’ll make something up. I’ll say I pretended to be Dora so I could go to the party.
“I just need to call my cousin and tell him,” I say.
“Sure. Ask him if he wants to come.”
I flip open my cell, but I get NO
SERVICE
on the screen. We hadn’t checked our phones when we arrived. Stupid.
He peers over. “Happens all the time. If we walk a bit, you can try again.”
“Okay.” I get up. Diego is probably watching us right now. And I can call again. I can hear the children running through the grass, and I can see the parents now, chasing after them. I’m fine, I’m safe, Diego would tell me to keep going.
“Great.” He stands up and starts down the path.
We’ll pass right by Diego, but that’s good. Diego can tail us.
We get to the entrance of the gardens, and Jonah looks around. I do, too, but I don’t see Diego. I figure he’s lurking behind a lilac bush, watching.
“Shoot,” Jonah says, and looks at his watch. “It’s later than I thought. They must be on the boat already.”
“Boat?” Everything lights up now. I’m close. I’m so close.
“Marcus has a boat. Well, his parents do.”
Marcus has a boat.
That’s it,
I think.
That’s how he gets them away.
Marcus invited her out on the boat. At first, she’s happy, he’s going fast, and the wind is whipping her hair. But something happens, somehow he gets her down in the cabin, and she panics.
I have to see the boat. I have to get on board. If I can just touch it, see it, be in that space, I can pick up something. I know it.
“Do you know the marina? It’s a short walk from here.”
“Let’s go.” I don’t have a real feeling about what is going to happen, but I do have a real feeling. It is that somehow Emily is calling me. She’s telling me,
follow.
So I follow. It’s almost as though I don’t care what’s at the end.
I just have to find it.
We cross the locks, and then the parking lot. We start up Seaview Avenue. Jonah Castle tells me about the park, how it started, how a group of neighborhood people got together and made it happen. That’s what he believes in, he says. A group of people with a common bond get together and things happen. It’s how he built his company, he says. Just a bunch of friends fooling around in a garage with some software. Just to see what would happen.
I guess it’s kind of cool, talking to a major cyberpioneer, a legend. I’m thinking that the Maryland friends I’m not so in touch with anymore deserve an e-mail about this.
We get to the marina. The sunlight scampers on the water. We walk down toward the docks. There are people here, sitting on their boats. They wave at us and smile.
We walk down a dock all the way to the end. He stops in front of a big cabin cruiser, about forty feet long. “I think this is it. Let me check it out.” He jumps aboard while I wait on the dock. I look behind me, but I don’t see Diego.
He disappears inside the cabin. Then he pokes his head out. “Marcus isn’t here. But…”
“What?” I ask. Jonah looks worried.
“It looks like the boat has been broken into or something,” he says. “There’s stuff all over the floor, and—”
He stops.
“What?”
“You’d just better stay there. I’ll call Marcus. No, I’ll call 911.” He takes out his cell phone, then slaps the side of the canvas flap in frustration. “No service. Let’s walk back to…”
I’m not waiting for the police. I have to get aboard. I have to feel the space, touch it. The police can find clues. But they can’t find what I can
feel.
I spring onto the boat.
“Don’t,” he warns, taking a step toward me. “They won’t want anyone else aboard.”
But I evade him. I have to look. He doesn’t want to tell me what he saw, but I have to see it. I know that a thief didn’t break in. I know that Jonah has seen signs of a struggle. Something happened on this boat.
I had seen the fists pounding.
I had felt her panic like it was my own.
It’s as if I’m in a dream, a dream that someone else has dreamed. I can see the white deck, the bright snapping blue flag. And Emily is saying,
keep going. Help me, help me.
I bend forward to look into the cabin. The surprise that it is neat, nothing out of place, is still registering dully in my head when I feel his hands on my back, when the push sends me down the stairs.
I land on my hands and knees, but I bite my lip hard.
I hear the
thunk
of the door.
My face is in the carpet. I am stunned. My lip is bleeding. I touch my tongue to the blood.
No.
Under my cheek, I feel the engines start up.
No.
I run to the window. I can’t open it.
I smell gasoline and see churning foam.
I pound on the window with my palms, slap them against the window. Then I use my fists.
“Help me, help me, help me!” I scream the words, over and over.
No one can hear.
My vision swims into focus. The girl on the bench, waiting.
I had been right all along about the danger.
Now I see it clearly.
The girl I had seen on the bench wasn’t Dora at all.
The girl I had seen on the bench was me.