When They Fade (12 page)

“So what happened then?”

“With my grandma? It's crazy, actually. I never knew this about her. She only told me this story the other night. I'm still kind weirded out. About five years ago, she was coming home from a bridge tournament. She saw this young girl hitchhiking on the road and says she felt compelled to pull over. She's never picked up anyone in her entire life, but she says she had no choice. It was like her body became possessed and she had to stop.”

Tatum is nodding. She felt the same way when she first saw Molly. She remembers being wary, and then all that fear just went out the back window. There had been something magical about the girl on Frog Road.

“So she picks this girl up and they drive for a while. Have a bit of small conversation. She said her name was Molly and she seemed fascinated by the car stereo and the CDs Grandma had on the dash. Then the girl turned and touched her. She told Granny that she was missing something important and that she had to go back to her sister's house in New Hampshire. If she moved the bed in the guest room, she'd find her answer. Then she just disappeared. Granny said she nearly crashed the car into a tree. She was really shaken up over it. Wouldn't drive for a month. Made my uncle take her for groceries. Told him some lame story about the accelerator being broken.”

Shivers slip across Tatum's skin. This is like what she read on the forum. That guy who insisted Molly had told his friend that his mother was dying and where to find the will.

“So what happened?”

“Granny got on a plane and went to New Hampshire. Her sister had died five years ago and they'd sold the house. But the person who'd bought it had turned it into a bed-and-breakfast. They'd kept most of the antique furniture, including the bed in the guest room. It was this huge mahogany oak thing—took three people to move it. But Granny insisted, and they found an envelope behind it with a safety deposit key in it. They went to the bank and found the box. There was all sorts of stuff in there that Granny thought had been lost. Jewelry. Pictures. Even some old stocks.”

“That's amazing.”

Scott nods. “Yeah, she told me all about this the other night after making me swear I wouldn't tell Mom she's senile and belongs in a nursing home.”

“Wow.”

“I know, right?” Scott picks up another article and glances at it. “I always thought Granny was kinda boring and old. Not anymore. Now she's kinda cool.”

It's on the tip of her tongue to tell Scott all about her own experience with Molly, but she stops herself. She's not quite ready to share yet. Scott still isn't a friend, and a part of her still worries that she's being set up. Damn Claudette for making her so suspicious. It's not fair. Will she ever be able to trust people again?

Yes,
she thinks.
The day I get out of here. I'll drive so far away, no one will be able to find me. Sure, I'll still have trust issues, but it'll be different. At least I'll be able to look at people and not immediately think they're on Claudette's side.

“Well, I should lock up,” Scott says. “I have to set the alarm. The owner will wonder if I stay behind too late.” He stands and jangles the keys in his hand. “You can keep that stuff for a few days if you want. It'll give you enough time to copy it. Granny doesn't mind. Heck, she'll probably agree to an interview if you want one.”

Tatum laughs. “That might be a good idea. I'll let you know how the story comes along.”

“I hope you'll let me read it.”

Tatum almost groans. She has no intention of ever writing it. All she wants to do is go home and surf the Net, looking for more evidence of Molly's activities. And Julian. Is he still alive? Is that Tatum's job? To find him? A love message from beyond the grave. How romantic.

She gathers up the loose newspaper articles and stuffs them back in the photo album. Tosses her empty cup in the garbage and waits while Scott turns off all the lights behind the counter and sets the alarm. He opens the door for her and locks it behind them.

“I'm working the next two nights,” he says as they stand by the door. The parking lot is empty except for both their cars. “But I'd like to talk to you some more about it. This sort of thing is interesting. Maybe you'd like to get together for a coffee on Wednesday. A different coffee shop, hopefully. This isn't really my favorite place for my days off.”

Tatum's stomach does a bunch of flip-flops. He's asking her out. More than anything else, she wants to say yes. But that pesky fear tickles the back of her neck. Can she trust Scott? He's got to know about Claudette's accusations. He doesn't live in a cave and isn't immune to gossip. Claudette's managed to convince the entire town that Tatum's a psycho stalker chick. So why isn't Scott running away in fear?

“I don't know…,” she says lamely, hating the words as they come out of her mouth.

“Look.” Scott reaches out and touches her jacket sleeve. “I know you've been through some hard times lately with all that crap that went down at school. It's a shitty thing that the others are doing. You'd think they'd get over it and move on to a new target. Find a new car to mark their territory on. Those guys are a bunch of morons.”

“I can handle it.”

“It's not right.”

“I didn't do any of those things Claudette claims, either,” Tatum says. “I really didn't. But no one believes me, so I'm stuck with it.”

There is a long pause while Scott stares at the empty parking lot. In the distance, Tatum can hear the cars on the interstate. Her phone vibrates in her back pocket, probably a text from Mom wondering where she is.

“I know you're telling the truth,” Scott finally says. “I saw Claudette and Mr. Paracini a few months ago, here at the coffee shop. They came in holding hands. I swear, when Claudette recognized me, I thought she was going to pass out. She whispered something to Mr. P., and he got all nervous and let go of her hand like she'd turned into a freak. They left right away. Couldn't get out fast enough.”

“You knew?”

“Claudette came up to me a few days later and gave me some stupid story about how Mr. Paracini was tutoring her. Of course I knew that was a load of crap. She was all over him. But she begged me not to say anything. Said Mr. Paracini would write me a great reference letter for college.”

“And you agreed?”

“Sure,” Scott says. “Come on, this was several months ago. To be honest, I didn't really care. If she wants to get into the teacher's pants, it's not my business. I never thought they'd actually hurt anyone.”

“But what about later on?” Tatum's mouth has gone completely dry.

Scott looks down at his feet. “I'm sorry, Tatum. Really, I am. If I had known they were going to attack you that way, I would have said something.”

“Then why didn't you?”

“I thought the whole thing would blow over. I never thought you'd end up getting bullied this way. In all honesty, I didn't want to get involved.”

The words are like a slap in the face.

I didn't want to get involved.

Isn't that the way it always works? Who cares what happens to the other person as long as it doesn't happen to you? Tatum's lungs begin to burn and she inhales like she's been underwater. Her heart flutters in a bad way. She can feel the pulse at her temples. A panic attack. She hasn't had one of these in ages. She thought she had them under control.

Breathe. Breathe. Try and calm down. Focus on anything other than Scott.
The panic recedes, but anger fills the empty space.

“You could have helped me.” Any affection she felt for Scott has disappeared. Tatum holds on tightly to her laptop, afraid she'll end up punching him if she drops it.

“What if I told you Claudette threatened to destroy me too?” Scott said. “I just got accepted into a bunch of colleges. UCLA has offered me a scholarship. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not working in a coffee shop for fun. My parents don't have the money to help me. I need a scholarship.”

“What did Claudette say?”

“She came to me, telling me that Mr. Paracini would change my grade. Tell the schools that he made a mistake. Fail me in biology. She threatened all sorts of lies.”

“It would have been us against them,” Tatum says. “It's not too late, either. You could still go the principal. Tell the truth.”

“Do you really think it would make a difference?”

The worst part is that she knows his words are true. Even if Scott did tell someone, the only thing it would do is bring up the whole ugly mess all over again. The damage is already done. Does she really want to go through it a second time?

But it's a chance to be redeemed.

If anyone believes Scott.

And Tatum has a strong feeling that no one is going to believe anything Scott says. No, more likely he'll get labeled a troublemaker and a liar. Then the others will start bullying him. He'll lose any chances of going to college. He'll be no better off than Tatum.

“I'm sorry,” Scott says. But the apology isn't good enough.

“I've got to go.” Tatum turns and fumbles with her key chain. She throws everything in her backseat unceremoniously.

Scott taps on the side of her car. She starts the engine and presses the button to lower the window. The radio begins blasting My Chemical Romance. She reaches over and turns it off so she can hear him.

“I can tell someone,” he says. “I know it's selfish of me to think of myself when your life is such a mess.”

“No,” she whispers. “You're right. They wouldn't believe you anyway.”

“I'm really sorry.”

She knows he's telling her the truth. Unfortunately, the truth doesn't do much these days.

“I know,” she says.

“Look,” Scott says. He leans from one leg onto the other. “I'd really like to get to know you better. Take a few days to think about it. You'll have to give me back the articles anyway. Okay?”

“Sure.” Her phone starts to ring. Her mother. She's going to freak if Tatum doesn't answer. Ignoring texts is one thing. Missed phone calls when she's almost an hour late are worth notifying the authorities.

“I've got to go,” she says. She grabs her phone.

Scott steps back from the car. “Just think about it.”

She makes no promises.

We climb.

Eventually Parker stops dragging me up the hill and we move across the terrain toward what I assume is the other side of the lake. I'm not even sure what direction we're going in. I can't see anything but trees and blue sky. I have no idea how long we've been hiking. Time means nothing here. If I could pin it down in earth hours, I'd say it's been more than a few.

“We're almost there,” he says.

Things begin to change. Hardly noticeable at first. A dead leaf crunches beneath my sandal. I spot a fallen tree. We have to climb over it to continue moving. The bark is rough beneath my hands. Pieces fall off and onto the ground. They don't instantly reappear like they should.

I see footprints in the soft moss. Probably Parker's from the times he's been here before.

Then I hear it. The soft rustle of leaves above me. I look straight up.

Wind.

This place. This small area in the tiny corner of our snow globe. It's alive.

“How is this possible?”

There's moss on a downed tree beside me. It glistens with dampness. I reach out and run my fingers along the soft clumps. Pulling away, I see that my skin is wet. And it's cool. I hold my hand up to my face, shocked, my brain still trying to understand what it's feeling.

It's like I've escaped back to earth.

“I don't know,” Parker says, but I can tell by the tone of his voice that he's got his theories.

“It's like a gateway,” I say.

“Yeah, that's how I figure it too. A crossover between both worlds. This place, it's not very big. About fifty feet in diameter. There.” He points to the right of us. My eyes follow his finger.

A cave.

A hole cuts straight into the mountain. It's about four feet high and wide enough to fit a slender person. It's so well camouflaged by the bushes, I probably could have walked right past it and never seen the entrance. I try and look inside, but all I can see is darkness. This is supposed to be the big escape from our prison. How does it work, and how quickly can I get out of here?

“Okay,” Parker says. He stops, blocking me from moving farther. “I need to explain some things first. You need to understand what you're up against. There are…rules. Easy enough to follow, but trust me, you don't want to get trapped out there.”

I almost want to laugh. It's inside here that we're trapped; being stuck on earth again sounds like a dream come true. How many times have I Faded to the road, only to wish I could spend a few hours doing my own thing? It always sucks when I see the headlights in the distance and know exactly what I have to do, what stupid mystical rules I have to follow, when I Fade back to this place. I am the ultimate puppet on a string. We all are.

“Fine, hurry up, then,” I say, the words coming out harsh and slightly childish. After being stuck here for over forty years, I might have learned to be patient.

“Sit down.” Parker points to a fallen tree. The one with the damp moss.

If I sit there, I'll get my dress all wet. Sadly, that sounds heavenly. I give Parker a look to suggest he needs to just get on with it, but he refuses to budge. Finally I sigh loudly and plop my butt down in protest.

“It's not hard to get out,” Parker says. “Easier than I would think. It didn't take me long to work out the puzzle. You can go wherever you want. All you really have to do is think about it.”

“Anywhere in the world?” Suddenly I'm no longer thinking about Tatum. I mean, once I save her, there's nothing off-limits to me. I could travel anywhere. See all the places I didn't get to visit before I died. Imagine. All I have to do is think about Rio and instantly I'd be in Brazil? How cool is that?

“Yeah, anywhere.”

“So how come you don't use this all the time?” I ask. Parker might be cool with his overthinking, analytical brain, but surely even he can't resist such a good thing.

“I did, in the beginning. I was excited, just like you. But I learned quickly that there is a price to pay.”

I pause. “Those…Remnant things?”

Parker nods. “They're dead, like us. But the similarity ends there. They're…I don't know how to describe it. Empty. It's as if their souls no longer exist. Empty shells.”

“Okay,” I say. “Avoid all empty Remnants. What else?”

“Be serious,” Parker snaps. “This is life or death.”

“How? I'm already dead.”

“Not your soul.”

I pause. Can my soul die?

Parker sits down on the log beside me and takes both my hands in his. His skin is cool against mine. I nearly pull back in surprise. I can feel him. The manly roughness of his touch. The pressure of his weight against mine. The outline of his bones. The blood coursing through his veins. Here, Parker is alive.

I try and think of all the times I've touched others in this world. Sadly, I can only remember a few instances. Once when Mary got me to untie her corset. Although my fingers struggled with the knots, I didn't feel anything. Another time, the crazy dog lady tried to read my palm to tell my future. She said I had a short lifeline. Hardly a fortune. Anyone here could have guessed that accurately. But I remember her skin felt no different from my own.

I've touched Parker before. I've never felt any emotional response with my body. No shortness of breath. No butterflies in my stomach. He's just something to touch against my unfeeling skin. But this, this is different.

This makes me remember:

A bright flash of sunlight. My brother and me, running through a field with baskets full of raspberries. My feet bare, toes digging into the spongy earth. Warm heat spreading across my head, my arms, my legs. Putting my basket down to do a cartwheel. Marcus laughing when I trip. The soft grass cushions my fall, and I can't help but join my brother in high-pitched squeals of delight.

Julian, holding me tight. Swimming out by the lake. We've wrapped a blanket around our bodies to keep warm. One of his hands caresses my skin; the other slips beneath my shirt, trailing a line of wetness along my side. Hearts beating. Breath heavy. Julian's lips brushing against my cheek. I tilt my head to kiss him.

My brain has turned into mush. A thousand thoughts rush through my mind. Part of me wants to throw myself against Parker, take in these new feelings as much as possible. What about his lips? Are they soft? Cool? Wet?

I open my mouth and gasp. Air rushes into my lungs, almost choking me. I can't remember the last time I actually tried breathing.

“It's amazing, isn't it?” Parker grins. He realizes he's completely derailed me by simply holding my hands. His eyes shimmer with excitement, and a bit of smugness, if you ask me. He's showing off a secret he's held on to forever, and if he weren't being so completely serious, he might actually enjoy it a bit more.

“It is,” I say. I look down at Parker holding tightly to me. His hands are almost twice as large as mine. I have such dainty wrists. Parker's hands are rough but soft at the same time. I've forgotten how good a man's skin can feel.

“Now listen to me, Molly,” Parker says. “When you go through to earth, it's got to be temporary. The Remnants will sense you. They'll be drawn to you. If you stay too long, they'll find you. And you don't want that. If they catch you, that's it. You're gone.”

“You're not going to come with me?”

Parker is taken aback. “You want me to come?”

“Yes.”

He pauses. For a moment I see a brief flicker of fear cross his eyes. “Okay.”

I let go of Parker's hand and walk toward the cave. So much darkness beyond that doorway.

“All right, then,” Parker says. He reaches out his hand again. “So you don't get lost. It can be tricky. And watch your head.”

Nodding, I allow him to lead me inside.

We move carefully through the wet cavern. Both of us have to duck while we walk, and after a few steps the walls grow closer, until Parker and I have to move sideways. The light from the outside world quickly fades as Parker leads me farther into the dark. I reach out and touch the sides for leverage. The rock is icy cold against my touch, and my fingers become slightly slimy. But the cave quickly becomes super dark; I need something to press against so I don't lose my balance.

“It's not that far,” Parker says. “Look ahead: you can see the glow.”

He's right. As soon as my eyes adjust to the absolute blindness, I can see a faint glow from up ahead. It becomes brighter as we approach, and I'm surprised to discover it's the walls themselves that are giving off all that light. The air grows warmer, more humid, and breathing becomes difficult.

Yes, breathing.

Parker takes me around a corner, and suddenly we're there. The narrow walls open up to a small chamber. Everything glows, giving off a warm light.

“It's beautiful,” I say. “It's like being on the inside of a diamond.”

Parker nods. “No idea how it's even possible, but it is.”

In the middle of the room is a clay bowl. Inside are dozens of tiny pebbles. Beside it are pieces of chalk. Parker goes over and picks up a piece. Moving back toward the left wall, he motions for me to come closer.

“Here's the trick. Write where you want to go with this,” he says as he hands me the chalk. He points to a part of the wall that has a perfect smooth surface. “It can be a place, a person, whatever you desire.”

I take the white piece of chalk from him and stare at the wall. This is happening. Parker's given me the thing I've longed for ever since meeting Tatum. A chance to save her. I still don't care if she thinks she's fine; I know in my heart it isn't true. All I have to do is write her name. But I hesitate.

I'm scared. And I know it's not because Parker's been filling my head with horror stories about the Remnants. I'm not worried about that—I'm positive he's overreacting, like he does with other things. I think Parker is trying to protect me from myself. And he's right. Going back to earth and not having to follow any rules is what terrifies me. This is the freedom I've been longing for. And now that I know it exists, how will I ever give it back?

What if there's a way to stay? To become human again? To live, grow old, and then truly die when I'm ready? What if this is my chance? Should I really be wasting it chasing down a girl who obviously doesn't give a damn about her own life? Why should I even bother? She's so determined to be right. Stubborn.

No, focus on the real reasons. I need to help Tatum. After that, I can deal with my selfish desires.

Carefully, I write Tatum's first name on the cavern stone. I don't have any other information. Hopefully the wall won't require it.

“Now pick up one of the pebbles,” Parker says. “Put it in your pocket and don't drop it. You'll need it to get back.”

“How did you figure all this out?” I ask.

“Roani showed me.”

“Who?”

“A guy who used to be here. Like us. He learned from someone else, who probably learned from someone even further down the line. It doesn't matter. I'm the only one left who knows now.”

“What happened to him?”

“He's gone. The worst part is, I don't think anyone remembers him either. One day he didn't come back, and no one ever asked about him afterward.”

If the story is meant to scare me, it's not working. I'm even more determined to try this out. I reach down and pick up a small gray stone. Parker grabs one too. I slip it inside a pocket of my skirt and press my hand against it to make sure it's safe.

“Now what?” I ask.

Parker doesn't need to answer me. The walls instantly fade away. I close my eyes tightly, holding on to Parker to make sure he comes along for the ride.

I hear noises. Night sounds. Crickets singing away in the bushes. The faint rumble of a truck in the distance. The loud silence of being outside in a large open space. A cool breeze wafts across my face. Opening my eyes, I find myself standing on the sidewalk of a street I don't recognize. It's nighttime. Several rows of houses are in front of me. Most of them have their lights turned off. Cars sit in driveways.

“We're here,” Parker says.

Where exactly are we? I look around, half expecting to see Tatum pop up in front of us. But the street is empty. There's not a soul in sight.

Except us.

I turn to face Parker. He looks slightly different. I can't explain or describe it. He looks more human. The wind blows his hair across his forehead. I've always wanted to run my fingers through his hair, and now I reach out and touch it. Parker smiles, enjoying my reaction. It must be stirring up old memories of his first time breaking free.

I step back and spin around, feeling the wind as it presses against my skirt. Looking straight up, I can see the yellow glow of a streetlight. I haven't seen one of those in forever. I'd almost forgotten about them.

“It's amazing,” I say. A
town.
This isn't just Frog Road; I'm standing in the middle of a street, and there are people sleeping in those houses. I could run up and down the block and look in the windows. I could walk in one direction until morning. I could watch the sun rise.

“I want to do this forever,” Julian once said, his lips pressed against my ear. We'd stayed up all night, and now the sun was about to rise. Sitting in the back of his truck, we'd piled blankets around us. The end to a perfect evening. Or the beginning to a new day. Where it began and ended never mattered.

“I want to watch the sun rise with you for the rest of my life,” he said.

“Me too.”

“Marry me.”

No. No. No. Too many sad memories. Why can't I just shut it all out and move on? Why can't I make new memories?

I could if I stayed here, away from the beach with all those other souls who can't stop remembering.

“We can't stay long,” Parker says, determined to destroy my fun. “Let's find your girl.” He glances down the street. “She should be close. Any idea?”