When They Fade (19 page)

“You need to go and save that girl,” the lady says. “Get yourself back to the real world and make things right.”

“How do you know about that?” I ask.

“What? You think just because we sit around like dead logs, we don't still have ears? I hear every conversation on this beach. So do the others. I know you're trying to save that girl. By doing so, I think you're going to save us all. Help us remember who we used to be.”

It takes me a moment to notice that the rain has stopped. Now the clouds above us are drastically pulling away, revealing blue sky. Warm air presses against my skin, like I'm being covered by a cushy blanket.

“Is that what I think that is?” the lady asks. She's turned her attention away from the group. Even the dog suddenly sits back on its haunches, its crazy dance abandoned, mesmerized as the sky comes alive.

And then it's there, peeking over the mountain horizon like a lost child who has found her way back home. A bright white light as the sun slowly grows in the sky.

One by one, the others begin to move forward, stepping away from the safety of the umbrellas to come join us on the sand. Hands reach out to touch me, as if that might spread around more of what I'm offering.

“I remember this,” Yuriko says. “It's been so long since I've felt the sun.” When she touches my cheek, her fingers are cool and soft.

She's not the only one. Pretty much all of us ghosts appear in the real world during the night. Sunlight is a luxury everyone has forgotten.

“We have to remember,” the dog lady says. “If we want to bring back our lives, we have to recall them. No more of this nonsense of sitting around and waiting for all that nothing to happen. This is our reality. Our emotions can fix things. Our memories. We need to bring it all back. The good, the bad, everything.”

There are murmurs of people agreeing. Others start reminiscing, talking about things they've forgotten from being alive. A beach ball appears out of nowhere, and the Vancouver girl picks it up and tosses it into the air. A boy in rags runs to chase it. A fiddle appears in a blond girl's hands. She slides the bow across the strings, her braids bouncing as she begins to play an Irish melody. It makes me think of Mary, and I can't help but picture her bouncing across the sand. She would have loved this more than anyone.

Now we have a melody and everyone begins to dance. Louis Chen grabs my arms and pulls me in, bouncing in an offbeat way. He trades me off to an older gentleman whose hairpiece has gone askew. We spin around twice before I let go, and he's swallowed up by the music as several hands reach up toward the sky.

I spot Parker standing a ways off from the crowd. He's found his jacket and bowler hat by our usual spot. He turns the hat around in his hands before tossing it toward the lake like a Frisbee.

I sneak through the crowd and make my way toward him.

“You've done an amazing thing here,” he says. “Feel it? All that energy and emotion. It's just like being at the cave.”

I wrap my arms around him, pull him close. I run my fingers through his hair to feel the coarseness. It's soft, actually, different from what I expected. Our lips touch, and my stomach tingles and dances around for the first time in what feels like forever.

Love is no longer a memory.

Somehow it's been set free.

“I have to go back,” I say to him once we stop kissing. “One more time. I have to finish this.”

“I know.” His voice is husky and filled with emotion.

“You don't have to come with me.”

“You know I will.”

He reaches down and takes my hand in his.

“Was there someone you loved once?” I ask. “A girl when you were alive?”

“Yes,” Parker says. “Sophia. She was amazing. Brown hair. Big brown eyes. I used to rent the flat above the shop her father owned. She had the most beautiful voice. Very talented and a smart girl. She used to sit with me while I studied and didn't say a word. We could sit quietly for hours, reading by candlelight, happy to be together. I planned on marrying her, just like you and Julian.”

“You never told me about her before. How come?”

“It hurt too much to talk about, I guess,” Parker says. “Being here. The way things were. I tried not to think about it. Easier that way. I'm just as guilty as everyone else.”

He moves in to kiss me again, but this time I pull back.

“Do you think we're betraying them?”

“No,” Parker says. “Haven't you said you wanted Julian to move on? Find someone new to love? How is that any different to what we're doing here now?”

“I always thought Julian and I would be reunited, after he, well, you know.”

Parker nods. “I used to think that way too. But I do know that wherever Sophia is, it's not here. And she'd be long gone herself.”

“Scott would be a good guy for Tatum,” I say. “Don't you think? He seemed very nice.”

“Maybe,” Parker says. “Let's give them the chance to find out.”

Julian was gone that day; he'd been working five days a week with the precious metals internship. He'd bring home all sorts of books to study, spending his evenings reading by candlelight in the back of the truck. Weekends were spent together, making jewelry to sell so we could continue to put food on the table. Olivia helped by sewing clothing. Walter and a few others picked up odd jobs where they could. Sage taught me everything from her battered syllabus books. We managed to get by.

My job was to go around to all the shops and drop off the orders. I had a bicycle, a rusty red creation with a basket to hold everything. I'd found it in a ditch outside Portland and painstakingly brought it back to life. With Julian's help, I'd replaced the tires and handlebars. I'd painted it and attached streamers, which rippled and danced the faster I pedaled. I loved it, although the chain constantly slipped no matter how often I oiled it. That morning, I came out to see one of the tires flat, and I couldn't find the patch kit anywhere.

“I can give you a ride,” Walter said. He'd been hanging near the campfire all morning, drinking lots of coffee. Olivia was around somewhere, but I wasn't sure where. Sage was spending the morning teaching the younger kids. We only got together for an hour or so in the afternoons because most of the required lessons I could do myself.

“I can wait,” I said. “I'll get Julian to help me find the patch kit tonight, or we'll go into town and pick up a new one.”

“Don't be silly,” Walter said. “I've got nothing going on today—might as well make myself useful. Besides, I heard about a guy in town who's hiring. I can swing over and put my name in. We're going to have to save up some if we plan on bumming around this summer. There's going to be some great shows I don't want to miss.”

“Yeah, okay,” I said as I looked back at my bicycle. It really did seem to be on its last legs. Maybe I could stop at the shop and pick up a new tire, if it wasn't too expensive. I hated to give up on the poor thing so quickly. And it wasn't like we could afford a new one, especially when the van kept breaking down. Last week we'd had to put in a new transmission, and that had eaten up a bunch of savings. But Walter claimed he'd rather die than get a new vehicle. In hindsight, I think the reason he was so attached to the van was because of the things he did in it that no one else knew about.

Dark things.

I was about to find out.

The cave walls glow, and Parker and I spend a few minutes admiring our mural. No one asked about Mary back on the beach, and I'm trying not to worry they've forgotten her. Having the sun come out for the first time ever kind of trumps everything else. And besides, I'm the girl who brought it all back. Do I really want to be the one to let them know Mary's gone, too? That's all a bit much to handle for one day.

“Do you think enough time has passed?” I ask. The bowl sits on the floor, its never-ending pile of pebbles tempting me.

“Only one way to find out,” Parker says as he swoops down and picks up a piece of chalk. He hands it to me, and I press it against the wall, writing Tatum's name for what will hopefully be the last time.

I will save her tonight.

I will keep her safe forever.

The walls instantly begin to disappear.

I don't know why, but I expect to come out on the other side in bright sunlight. Instead I find darkness.

I don't even have time to adjust my eyes to the change when someone slams into me, a heavy body shoving me backward and toward the ground. I hit hard, Parker's name on my lips. I see him reach down to help me, but he doesn't get the chance. A Remnant appears behind him, wrapping its blurry, energy-coursing arms around him, dragging him away.

“Parker!”

Smoke fills my eyes, causing me to blink back tears. The heavy, acrid smell is drawn deep into my lungs as I inhale. I can't see anything. I try and focus, fixate on something familiar. Look for Tatum; she's got to be here. But where?

I see stars above me. A fire sends smoke billowing upward. Bodies, dozens of bodies, stand around in a circle. I see Parker struggling with the Remnant on the ground, trying to keep the energy from overwhelming his body. His hand sweeps the ground blindly; fingers close on a heavy rock. He picks it up and smashes it into the Remnant's empty face.

Then I spot Tatum's friend Scott. He's lying on the ground by the fire. There's blood on his head, and he's not moving.

I push at the person who brought me down, trying to get the heavy body off me. Laugher rings in my ears as I scramble to my feet.

“Welcome to the party!”

Claudette corners her in the bathroom during second period.

Tatum's washing her hands when the other girl comes in. She's by herself, which is unusual. Most of Claudette's attacks happen when she's got her posse around to protect her. She talks mean, but she's all bark. At five feet nothing, she knows her limits.

Tatum stiffens when Claudette strolls in. It could be coincidental; she's not sure if something is going to happen or not. There have been a few accidental meetings that have gone fine. Usually Claudette just ignores her, and once she simply brushed past Tatum, shoving her against the sink.

When Tatum sees the smile, she knows there's going to be an altercation. Claudette is grinning like she's the devil and she's about to give a deadly Christmas gift to someone.

“You've got a big mouth, bitch,” Claudette says.

“Get lost,” Tatum says.

“The police came by my house this morning,” Claudette says. She intentionally bumps Tatum and starts messing with her hair in the mirror. Curls fly in all directions. “Wanted to know something about a fire. Are you becoming a firebug? Burning down your bedroom for attention now?”

“I hope they asked you where you were last night,” Tatum says. “I'm sure you had a good excuse.”

“What a poor, delusional girl you are,” Claudette says. “The police sure seemed to think so. They wanted to know about your medical history. Of course I told them your parents were trying to get you professional help. And I told them about your infatuation. I'm surprised they hadn't already heard about it. They know now.”

Tatum turns to go, but Claudette deliberately blocks her way, pressing up closely against Tatum, who's forced to take a few steps back toward the wall.

“What's the matter? Gonna cry?”

“I'm not getting into this with you,” Tatum says. “I'd tell you to go pee on my car, but you've already gone out of your way to destroy it. You know how much I loved that car. What more can you do?”

“What's wrong with your car?” Claudette's voice is full of phony confusion.

“Don't play innocent. You suck at it. Go trash my locker if you're angry. Or get Levi to send me more dirty texts. Go spread your useless hate somewhere else. I've got to get back to class.”

“Do you know how annoying it was having the cops at my breakfast table?” Claudette asks. “Your stupid big mouth is going to mess things up.”

“I didn't do anything.” She tries to push her way past Claudette, but the girl reaches out and shoves Tatum back. Hard. Tatum stumbles, almost going down.

“You just can't learn, can you?” Claudette says, and she shoves Tatum again. She turns around and faces the mirror, smiling at herself. She pulls out a lip gloss and starts applying a coat. “How dense is your thick head? You're never going to win with me. No matter what you do. Haven't I already shown you that whatever you say is useless? I've turned this whole town against you. Do you really think I can't do it again?”

“What's the matter, did Barry dump you?”

Claudette's hand slams against the mirror. Glass cracks beneath her palm. The lip gloss drops to the floor, spilling bright pink liquid across the tiles. Tatum takes a step back. Okay, that just qualified for the crazy round.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Claudette says in a very loud voice. “Stop making things up. Or maybe someone
will
teach you a lesson.”

“Is that a threat?” Tatum shoots back. The bell rings, and suddenly the hallway is filling up with students. It's only a matter of time before someone comes in and finds them. Tatum's books are still in her second-period class. She's going to be late if she doesn't go get them.

“I don't need to make threats,” Claudette says. The door opens and two freshman girls come in. They see Claudette and Tatum facing each other and pause. Tatum uses it to her advantage and pushes past her former friend. The younger girls scatter out of the way as she goes through the door.

She's made it to the hallway when Claudette catches up with her and grabs hold of Tatum's arm, fingernails digging deeply into Tatum's skin.

“Watch your back, bitch. I'm coming for you.”

Then she's gone.

Tatum's legs are still shaking after she retrieves her books and heads to her next class.

She never makes it home.

They must have planned the whole thing ahead of time. Waited patiently until Tatum walked by. They knew she'd be on foot. They'd gone out of their way that afternoon to make sure.

Scott had offered to drive her home after school. They stuck around for a bit by his locker, waiting for people to clear out. She told him about the altercation in the bathroom. She told him about the threat.

“She broke the mirror with her hand?”

“Yup.”

“That's crazy.”

“Yup.”

“That's it. From now on, you're not going anywhere without me. And you need to tell your parents about this. Show them the texts and Facebook messages too.”

She nods, relieved. There's no point in arguing anymore and trying to act tough. She shoves her hands tightly inside her hoodie pockets, hoping Scott doesn't notice the way they're trembling.

But when they get outside, they find all four of the tires slashed on his car. Scott kneels down and checks. The cuts are wide. Whoever did this had a big knife.

“I'm sorry,” Tatum says. “This is all my fault. I'll buy you some new ones.”

“Don't worry about it,” Scott says. “They were almost dead anyway. Nothing but thread. I've been saving up to buy some new ones.”

“They have no right to include you in this,” Tatum says. She looks around, hoping to spot Graham or Levi so she can give them a piece of her mind. The parking lot is empty. There are only a few students, and they're averting their eyes instead of gawking. Today Graham and Levi haven't stuck around to slap each other on the back. She doesn't see Graham's car anywhere. He must have destroyed and dashed. Claudette isn't present to call Tatum a slut and laugh, either. A typically cowardly thing for them to do: hide when their attacks focus on a guy who might actually fight back. They can do whatever they want to her; they know Tatum's not going to chase after them with her fists raised. This whole thing leaves her fuming.

Their fight is with Tatum, not Scott.

“Are you really surprised?” Scott asks. “I'm not. Don't look at me that way. I knew what I was getting into.”

“Have they threatened you?”

“It's nothing, Tatum; don't worry about it.”

“What did they do?” Scott tries to shrug it off, but she won't let him. She needs to know. “Tell me.”

“Nothing major,” Scott finally says. “A few remarks here and there. In gym today I got a ball thrown at my head. Bunch of immature stuff.”

“Assholes!”

“It's okay, really. Guys say and do this sort of stuff to each other all the time. I'm not afraid of Graham. Or that little creep that follows him around.”

“Levi.”

“Yeah, him. Hardly threatening. He's kinda weird in a bad way. Not worth getting worked up over.”

Tatum frowns. “You can't tell me not to worry. Not when you're telling me to be careful.”

“I didn't get a ghost foreseeing my death. I'll walk you home. I'll get Dad to take me to the tire store tonight. I'm just glad it's my night off.”

She hates that he's so nonchalant about it. She wants to scream at everyone in the parking lot, let them know that they're all just as guilty because they probably witnessed the whole thing and didn't do anything. All her classmates, the ones who glance away when she walks down the hallway. Her teachers who refuse to listen. Everyone who won't stand up for Tatum, because as far as they're concerned, she made her own bed. She deserves this. What's wrong with all these people? Even if Tatum had been guilty of falling in love with a teacher, would she really have warranted these actions? The whole thing is so messed up.

The police called the house this morning and spoke with her father. They said they'd talked to Claudette and she had an alibi for last night. They said they'd follow up with everyone else. When he got off the phone, he didn't say a word to anyone but retreated to his study. Tatum is positive her dad thinks she set fire to her bedroom. It's only a matter of time before he convinces Mom to send her to a private institution with padded cells where Tatum can't hurt anyone.

She thinks again about Molly's warning. It's not so unbelievable now. Maybe there's some truth to it. Claudette has gone off the deep end.

Tatum decides maybe it's best that she keep a low profile for a while.

“Come on,” she says to Scott as she shifts her backpack from one shoulder to the other. “Let's get out of here.”

The attack comes a few blocks from home.

Tatum sees the SUV pulling over, but she doesn't register the danger until Claudette and Graham get out. Levi is driving.

“Look at the little bitch,” Claudette says. “What happened to your ride?”

“You trashed it,” Tatum says. “And you wrecked Scott's, too. You're going to pay for that.”

“You should take better care of your things,” Graham says.

“Go away, Claudette,” Tatum snaps. “Take your monkeys with you.”

Claudette stands her ground, moving slightly closer. Tatum notices that Graham is circling around so he's behind them. What's he going to do? Scott is taller, but Graham has at least twenty pounds on him. If a fight breaks out, Tatum isn't sure who will come out the winner. The street is empty. No one is outside puttering around in their yard or walking their dog. If she screams, someone might come, but Tatum isn't sure she wants to rely on it. People hear hollering teenagers all the time. They might just think it's some sort of joke. She puts her hand in her pocket, touching her phone, reassuring herself that she can call for help if need be.

“I think we should go somewhere,” Claudette says. “You and me. For a drive. We need to talk things over.”

“I think we've talked enough,” Tatum says.

“But I have things to say to you.”

Claudette's arm shoots out, grabs hold of Tatum's. Tatum tries to pull back, but she's still got her hand in her pocket. Claudette pushes Tatum down, yanks her hair. Tatum lands hard on her knees, tearing a hole in her jeans. Her teeth clamp down hard as Claudette manages a sharp jab against the side of her ear.

“Back off,” Scott yells. He moves in to help Tatum, and suddenly he's lying on the ground.

Tatum manages to pull herself away and rushes to Scott's side. He gets to his hands and knees, dazed, blinking at the ground beneath him. Tatum looks up and sees that Graham is holding some kind of bat.

“What have you done?” Tatum screams.

“Going to do the same thing to you if you don't get in the car,” Claudette purrs. “Now move.”

She's being kidnapped in broad daylight on her own street. And not by some crazy guy offering her candy in a battered old van. Graham holds up the bat again as if he's going to take another shot. Whether he's aiming for Scott's head or hers, she's unsure. Tatum instinctively holds up her hands in defense. That allows Claudette to grab more handfuls of hair. She yanks hard, throwing Tatum off balance, and she tumbles onto her side. Tatum tries to fight her off, but she's pushed farther down to the point where she's practically crawling on her knees. Her scalp is on fire; it feels like every strand is being yanked out, one by one.

When the hell did Claudette get so strong? This is a girl who failed gym class because she couldn't even bench-press ten pounds. She's the one who always got Tatum to open jars of peanut butter when the lids were screwed on too tightly. Now she's managed to get Tatum into a hold that would make any pro wrestler envious.

It doesn't take her long to get Tatum pushed up against the SUV. Levi gets out and opens the door. He helps Claudette shove Tatum in. Her head smacks against the frame, and she sees stars.

“Bring the dweeb, too,” Claudette says.

Tatum watches through watery eyes as Graham grabs Scott and drags him to his feet. She's not sure if Scott's conscious or not. He doesn't put up a fight, but instead leans on Graham, who half carries him to the SUV. Graham tosses him down beside Tatum. She crawls over to him, puts her hands against his face, calling his name. Scott groans. There's a large welt on the back of his head, and blood has soaked the back of his jacket. Head wounds always bleed the most; that's what her mother taught her. All she needs to do is apply pressure. Tatum spots a tissue box crumpled half under the passenger seat. She grabs handfuls and presses them against the back of Scott's head to try and stop the bleeding.

He might have a concussion. She can't remember what to do about that. Don't let him fall asleep, right? That's looking to be an impossible task considering his eyes have just rolled into the back of his head, showing only white.

“Come on,” she whispers. “Don't pass out.”

Scott mumbles something incoherent back.

Doors slam, and Tatum is stuck in the back with an almost-unconscious Scott on one side and Graham and his bat on the other. Claudette and Levi get into the front, and he starts the SUV. He hits the gas and they peel out quickly.

The whole thing takes only a few minutes. No adults yelled out or came over to ask questions. No one saw anything.

Tatum finds her phone and pulls it out, but Graham is too quick. He snatches it from her and tosses it over to Claudette. She waves the phone in front of Tatum, mocking her by keeping it just beyond Tatum's reach. After Tatum makes a halfhearted grab for it, Claudette simply rolls down the window and throws it out.

At least Scott still has his phone. Tatum knows it's in his back pocket. Unless Graham tossed it as he was lifting Scott into the SUV. Tatum doesn't dare look. She doesn't want to throw that little bit of hope away.