Through Indigo's Eyes (33 page)

“That's the way it should be.”

“I don't know what to do. I love him so much, but I know he doesn't treat me right.”

“We deserve better,” I said.

She tilted her head and gave me a puzzled look. “Are you talking about John, too? I made that up about Amber and him to hurt you. He didn't cheat on you with her.”

“Yeah, but he … does other things. He's not always nice to me.”

“What does he do?”

I sucked in a big breath. “I dunno. He always tells me I'm stupid to be in the band. He tells me I'm a lousy singer. Stuff like that.”

And he bruised my arm, too. I can't tell anyone that.

“You're a great singer.” Lacey made a face. “And I bet your band is awesome.” She paused. Then she wrapped her arms around her body as her eyes welled with tears. “Indie, I'm so sorry I didn't believe you.”

“Lacey.” Lacey's mom interrupted us, her voice breathy as if she'd been hurrying. We both looked up at the sound of her voice.

“I heard about Burke,” she said. She sat on Lacey's other side.

“Mom.” Lacey collapsed into her mother's arms.

“His parents are in the lobby.” Mrs. Hughes helped Lacey stand. “I think he's going to be okay.”

As we walked down the hospital hall, I tried to put on my jean jacket, but it got tangled behind my back. I struggled with the arms, and while I was trying not to look spastic, I walked into a chair. The clang of the chair falling to the hard tiled floor echoed off the wall.

Mrs. Hughes turned.

The last thing I wanted was someone checking to see if
I
was okay. I immediately held up my hand and said, “I'm fine.” But I didn't feel fine. I was edgy and out of sorts, vibrating at some unusual frequency. Why was I feeling like this?

When we got to the lobby, I saw a distraught couple and right away figured out they were Burke's parents. They rushed toward Lacey, and Mrs. Brown hugged her tightly.

“Have you heard anything?” Lacey's words came out in a broken whisper.

“He's in surgery.”

I wanted to hear more about Burke's prognosis, but someone tapped my shoulder. A low, recognizable voice said, “Indie.”

I slowly turned.

“I just heard the news.” John spoke quietly. “I knew you'd be here.”

I stared at him, noticing his oversized pupils and the little red lines seeping into the white of his eyes. “You didn't have to come for me,” I replied.

He touched my cheek, and I was instantly comforted. I tilted my head toward his fingertips.

“I wanted to,” he said softly. “I knew you'd need someone to talk to.”

Just seeing John standing in front of me made my eyes well with tears. I hadn't cried yet, not a drop. He put his arm around me, and I rested my head on his shoulder, liking the familiar feel of his strong body. I needed something familiar to ground me.

“You want to sit down somewhere?” he whispered.

“Sure,” I whispered back.

We found a quiet bench and sat. We didn't say anything for a minute or so. So much was swirling through my mind that I needed to give it time to slow down and get in sync with my body. Why had he shown up? John reached for my hand, and I allowed the gesture because I still loved the feel of his skin against mine. It had electrified me from the first day we had connected, and it still had the same effect.

“Do you think he's going to be okay?” he finally asked. “I wasn't at the game.”

I shrugged. “I dunno. Lacey asked me if I could see anything, and I couldn't.”

“You tried?”

“Yeah. But nothing worked.”

“How do you usually see things?”

I sighed and turned to look him square in the eyes. “My mind goes blank, and I feel as if I'm looking through a telescopic lens into a fishbowl. It's so crazy.”

He squeezed my fingers. “It's not.”

“She asked me to see something for her about Burke, and I couldn't get past the blankness.”

“Maybe you're not supposed to see anything.”

I sat back, pulled my hand from his, and slouched in the chair. Suddenly, my heart started beating at a speed that made me almost gasp. Was I feeling Burke's heart? “He's going to live,” I blurted out. “I can feel his heart.” I lowered my head and stared at my white-knuckled fingers, which were laced together.

“Indie,” he said softly, lifting my chin with his finger and maneuvering my face until we were staring into each other's eyes. “I'm sorry I got so mad at you in the library.”

“And I'm sorry I didn't tell you,” I whispered.

He pressed his forehead against mine. The steam from his breath circled my face, and I stopped shivering.

“So many times I've wanted to pick up the phone just to talk.” He stroked my hair. “Even for little things.” He paused. “And especially”—he leaned back and ran his hand through his own hair—”when I found an old photo of my dad. You were the only one I wanted to show it to.” He continued the repetitive movement of running his hand through his hair. I really wanted to put my hand over his and tell him to stop.

“You can show me now if you have it with you,” I said instead. “Lacey is with Burke's family.”

John leaned over onto his side and fished his wallet out of his back pocket.

“I just found it in this old box of stuff my mom had thrown in the trash.” He opened his wallet and dug deep in one of the slots where cards usually went. “She still doesn't know I picked it out. I didn't mean to look in the box, but I dropped my keys in the bin outside, and when I reached in, I found the box, and something made me look in it.” His words came out in one big rush.

I didn't want to see the photo because suddenly I knew exactly who I was going to see. My hand shook as he passed it to me. When I looked at it, my heart screeched to a complete stop.

I was right. And I had no idea what to do to help him.

 

Chapter
Nineteen

“I've decided I'm going to find my dad,” said John, running his hands along his thighs. “I have to. I can't stand not knowing where he is.”

I couldn't speak. I didn't know how to respond. Anything I said would hurt John, and I had this weird feeling he wouldn't believe me anyway, like Lacey hadn't believed me about Burke. Maybe this was one I wasn't supposed to tell. Again, confusion bounced through my brain.

“It's time,” he said. “I need to search for him. I need to do this for my mom and me.”

Help me
, I begged.

John's father was the man in the locket. The man with the cigar.

Was I the only one who knew he was dead?

I couldn't deal with this right now. This was all too much for me to handle. “John.” I touched his arm. “Let's talk about this later. I really feel as if we should go find Lacey right now. I want to see if Burke is okay. But I do want to talk about it with you, okay?” I hoped he wouldn't notice the tremor in my voice.

John put the photo back in his wallet. “You're right,” he said.

Crisis brought people out in numbers. The waiting room and halls were full of Burke's numerous, and I mean
numerous
, friends. His entire hockey team was there. They must have come after the game. No one was talking about the score, who had won the game; that news was insignificant tonight. I blew out the stale air I had been holding in my body. I wondered about death and what happened in the afterlife. John's dad was dead. Why had his mother told John he was alive? Burke was going to live; he'd escaped something horrible. Or at least I thought he had.

Trust your intuition, Indie, and what comes to you. If you do, you can help people
.

Had I helped? I had called out to Burke. Perhaps I had made a difference. But then maybe not. If he died, I wouldn't have helped at all. Why did some people live and others die?

Suddenly, I felt sick to my stomach. My head seemed to spin in circles. Why did everything have to happen at once? John's dad and Burke all in one day; I couldn't deal with all of this.

I saw Sarah with a few of our school friends, and she waved to me. Even from a distance, I could see the puzzled look on her face, and I knew it was because I was with John. I was just about to go over to her when Lacey walked toward me. I left John's side and immediately went to her.

“Any news?” I asked, taking her hands in mine.

“He's in surgery. That's all they'll tell us.”

“You want a tea?” I put my arms around her. “Peppermint?”

Lacey gave me a quirky but sad half smile. “I haven't had peppermint tea since you and I stopped talking.” She sighed. “I'm so sorry, Indie.”

“Stop,” I said gently. “Don't talk about that anymore.”

“You gave me the angel wings, didn't you?”

I smiled.

“Thank you.”

“You need peppermint tea,” I said. By now, John had come up to us. I turned to him. “I'll get you a coffee while I'm there.” I felt Sarah's eyes still on me, so I glanced across the room to where she was standing. I waved, then I pretended that I was drinking. She mouthed back, “Double, double.”

As I walked down the long hallway toward the hospital cafeteria, my jitters returned and my body felt unearthly, spacey. The cafeteria was quiet, and I went directly to the tea and coffee. I filled two takeout cups with hot water and picked up two packets of peppermint tea. As I was pouring the coffee, I thought about that morning at school, weeks ago, when I'd had a cup with John—how when we had touched, I'd felt such incredible sparks. I still felt those same sparks every time he got close to me, and I couldn't figure out why. He did something to me physically, drew me in somehow. Would we get back together?

Things had changed. I wasn't sure if we were right anymore.

Juggling the four cups, I walked to the counter to pay.

“Do you have a cardboard tray?” I asked.

The girl, who wore a net over her hair but was digging dirt from under her fingernails mumbled, “Yeah. Sure do.”

Once I paid, I took the steaming drinks over to add some cream and sugar.

After I dropped the tea bag into the steamy water, I inhaled the peppermint smell. Suddenly, my nostrils burned, and I swear, if the hot drinks hadn't been sitting on a countertop, I would have dropped them on the floor. Cigar smoke wafted around me.

I didn't want to turn, so I kept my back to the smell.

Maybe if I stayed still, he would go away. But the cigar smell got stronger and stronger, overpowering the peppermint smell. Finally, I could hardly breathe; I coughed to try and clear my throat.

Then I heard a gurgling noise, as if someone were choking. I quickly turned to see him standing behind me.

But what I saw made me gasp. Not a word came out of my mouth. I just stared at the paring knife stuck in his throat. Blood spurted from the knife wound, soaking the front of his white T-shirt. His cigar lay smoldering on the floor.

Suddenly my mind went blank, and my vision narrowed. Through my telescopic lens, I saw
a paring knife and an apple.
Then I was back in the cafeteria. The man grabbed his throat with his hand, the blood soaking his fingers, making him look like he was wearing red gloves.

“I know who you are,” I whispered.

He tilted his head, and I detected sadness. The obvious pain in his eyes made my own limbs heavy. I felt like I were stuck in mud and couldn't move my feet. It made no sense. Had this man hurt her?

“Tell her I'm sorry,” he gasped.

“For what?”

I quickly glanced around to see if anyone heard me talking. I was the only one in the cafeteria, and the cashier was sitting on her stool at the register, flipping the pages of a magazine. She didn't look up.

I turned back to see blood oozing from his throat, dripping down his neck. The sucking sound it made as it escaped was horrible, just horrible.

I must have moaned or groaned or something, because the cashier piped up and said, “Hey, lady, you okay over there?” She peered over the top of her magazine.

“I'm fine.”

“Suuuuure you are.” She rolled her eyes and went back to her magazine.

I had to get away from this spirit standing in front of me. I wondered if I could walk right through him. But that would mean going through the knife and blood, and I just couldn't. I sucked in a deep breath and stepped to the side. But he stepped to the side, too, blocking me from moving. So I stepped to the other side, but again he mirrored my movement and made sure he was in front of me.

“What do you want?” I was getting frustrated. “Get out of my way.”

“She buried me in a hole she dug with a shovel. I hurt her, so she hurt me.”

“Don't tell me any more!” The sound of my voice echoing off the walls made me look over at the cashier. She had a phone in her hand.

“Got another one escaped from the psych floor,” she said, staring at me. “Come and get her before she messes the joint. Cleaner's gone for break, and I don't want to do no mopping.”