Whisper (19 page)

“Oh my god, are you actually sick?” She sounded more awake now. “Tell me what you need me to do.”

“I’m not sick, but you were right that something’s going on with me. I can’t explain it all right now, but—”

“I cannot believe you!” she cut in. “You’re still being all secretive and weird!”

“I can’t help that right now.” I thought of how our last conversation had ended and felt sad. But my sadness was like a tiny water drop. It sizzled on the flame of my terror over Jess’s being…what? Hurt? Worse than hurt? “I know I owe you an explanation,” I said. “But it’ll have to wait.
This is urgent. Just please go to your computer and type what I tell you.”

To my own ears, I sounded every bit as bossy and commanding as she often did—maybe more so. Incredibly, Parker did what I asked her to.

Through Google Maps, we narrowed down
P
^**
EST
^****
GRO
^****
to Pike Street Grocery in Seattle’s Capitol Hill neighborhood. I repeated the address to Jamie, who found it on our map.

“Wait, you’re not actually in Seattle, are you?”

“Tell you later, gotta go!”

“Joy. Wait.” She lowered her voice. “If you’re in some kind of trouble—I mean, I feel like I should tell my mom about this call.”

“Can you please just trust me for tonight and I’ll explain tomorrow?”

“But I’m worried about you. This feels too big for me.”

I sighed. “Well, okay, do what you have to do. I’ll do what I have to do.”

She hesitated. “You said I don’t know you that well. The more I think about it, you’re right. Or at least, you’re not acting like yourself lately. You seem so much…tougher.”

I shut my eyes, part of me wishing I could give her back the old, agreeable Joy she no doubt missed, but it was impossible. I opened my eyes. “This is the real me.”

Up ahead I saw the green awning, the sign:
P
^**
EST
^****
GRO
^****
. Jamie slowed the car. “I’ll explain everything tomorrow,” I repeated. “If you want to hear it.”

Parker exhaled a sigh that was more like a dragon’s fire breath. “The real you is kind of a pain in the ass,” she said. “But…I think I’m going to like her.”

“Really?”

“Yes. A lot. But you better call me tomorrow, first thing!”

Every possible inch of parking space was full, so we parked in front of a driveway and hoped its owners were too asleep to notice.

As we stepped out of the car, Jamie took a sharp intake of breath. “This is bad, really bad.”

“What is it?”

“Guilt, mostly. Strong guilt, with fear mixed in. It’s already hitting me,” he added. “I don’t know how long I can last here.”

Guilt. I bit my lip. What was so bad even a drug dealer would feel guilty after doing it? “All right, where’s it coming from?”

He pointed to the left, across from the store. That side of the street was a mix of seven-or eight-story apartments and brownstone houses.

I Listened but caught nothing in particular. “I can’t Hear them from this far away,” I said. “Which place is it?”

He hesitated. “Joy, I don’t think it’s safe for us—for me—to go any farther. Something bad just went down here. It’s obvious. We’d be getting ourselves right in the middle of whatever it is.”

“I’m already in the middle of it,” I said. “If you’re not coming with me, fine, I understand. But I have to keep going. Even if I have to walk up to every door of every house
and
apartment on this street.”

He took a deep breath. “In that case,” he said, “it’s the second house on the left.” I looked where he was gesturing. The lights were on. “Good luck,” he added.

I opened my mouth but said nothing. Was he really going to make me go alone?

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. It’s just too much.” He shook his head. “Shit, I knew it was going to hurt when I had to let you down.” He turned away from me, apologetic Whispers echoed in my mind:
Wish I was more like you. Wish I was strong.

Strong? No one had ever described me as strong before. My teeth were chattering. I missed him already. But no one else could do this for me, and later might be too late. I walked up and rang the bell.

No answer.

I rang a second time. Nothing. What would I do if they didn’t answer? Kick down the door? Camp out here and wait for Dad to reach Seattle? Pester the cops with a vague, anonymous psychic tip?

On the other hand, I hadn’t actually
heard
the doorbell. Maybe it didn’t work. I’d just rapped on the door when I felt Jamie’s presence. Heard his wishes near me again:
I hope I can be strong.

He was behind me. I tipped my head back to rest on his
shoulder, breathed in the warm scent of his skin. “You’re back! But you said—”

“It’s not safe.” He smoothed my hair. “And I couldn’t live with it if you got hurt when I could have stopped it. If things get ugly, maybe I can protect you. I’ve never used it for anything good before.”

Heavy footsteps at the door. My hands and feet felt freezing, bloodless.

It dawned on me what he was saying. “You mean if a Wave knocks you down—”

“I’ll just let it take over,” he said. “Let it turn me into…what you saw this afternoon. Just stay out of my way, and if I tell you to run—”

I shook my head. “No…”

But I had little time to argue or even accept before we heard the popping of locks, like a gun being cocked, and then the metal door slid open.

I Heard a frantic Whisper,
I hope it’s not the cops out there,
and then a milk-white hulk of a dude appeared in the doorway, thick arms crossed over a gray leather duster. His relief on seeing we weren’t police faded fast, and he glowered at Jamie’s drug slogan T-shirt. “It’s three
A.M
., kidlets.”
I wish whoever sent these clowns had told them to show up during business hours!
He started to close the door.

“Wait!” I held up my hand. “We’re not here to buy from you, I’m looking for my sister! She’s missing.”

He stopped, blinked as if hit by bright sunlight.

“Blond, small build?” I added hurriedly. “Seventeen?”

“Huh, I’m trying to think….” The dude scratched at
his sparse, carrot-colored chin hair. He looked only a few years older than Icka, with a skinny rat face that clashed absurdly with his slouching bulk.
Seventeen,
he Whispered.
I wish she’d told me she was a fuckin’ minor! Man, I just want to erase this whole goddamn night….

Next to me Jamie gritted his teeth. The guy’s crawling fear was clearly starting to rub off.

“Sorry, babe, can’t help ya.” The drug dealer was breathing hard. “Too bad I didn’t see her…she sounds hot.” His lewd chuckle sounded weak, halfhearted. He mopped sweat off his scrubby mustache.

I stared at his dirty nails. His three-dollar Hot Topic skull ring. Was this one of the shadow hands groping my sister when she was too weak to move?

Next thing I knew, Jamie’s fist swung like lightning into the drug dealer’s pitted cheek, landing with a solid thud.

The guy rocked backward, groaning curses, but like a grizzly bear pegged with a BB gun, he wasn’t really hurt. Just pissed off.

“I’m going to kick your skinny ass.” And he lunged himself at Jamie.

Without thinking, I darted past them inside.

“The fuck d’you think
you’re
going?” the dude snarled. But he was too busy fighting the raw power of his own emotions to stop me running up the stairs.

An acrid stench hit my nostrils before I’d even stepped into the dimly lit living room. Except for the glowing fireplace in the far corner, and the man standing silently in
front of it, all was as I remembered it through Icka’s eyes. A small, squarish room with drawn blinds, windowsills caked with ash and dotted with still-smoking incense cones. On my left, the stained gray futon mattress. On my right, a hallway with at least three closed doors. I almost tripped on a laptop carelessly laid open on the skuzzy tan carpet.

The man kneeling over the flame was scrawny and long-haired, dressed in a black T-shirt and sagging-in-the-butt plaid pj bottoms.
I wish Keith hadn’t made up that Oblivion shit,
he Whispered.
Let’s just hope we don’t both rot in prison for it.
Hurriedly his tiny hands scooped up bits of…something…from beside him on the floor and fed it to the fire. The something was soft, pale, and furry looking, like a small animal. A sleeping kitten.

Then my perspective gelled, and I realized I was staring at a pile of human hair.

Long, dreaded, white blond.
Her
hair.

On the ashes below rested dozens of reddish charred blobs, each the size of a tooth. Beads, they were beads. The crimson beads from Icka’s Guatemalan wallet. He must have already burned that.

God, I hope we don’t get caught,
he Whispered.
Wish that dumb bastard hadn’t lied to get laid.
“’Scuse me!” The little guy finally saw me. “What the fuck are you doing here?” His fussy, nasal voice squeaked with anxiety.
Is it too much to ask that Keith could go three hours without letting a random chick into our place?

We stared at each other. I couldn’t speak. My brain had
locked itself. Time shifted, opened up. The stench of burning hair grew more and more pungent, like a photo coming into ever-sharper focus. I’d been lurking here for hours. Centuries.

“You’re a friend of Keith’s?” The little guy peered at me through Coke-bottle lenses, his unlined face far younger than I’d guessed. “You have a name?”
Whoever she is, I hope she’s too stoned to catch on to what I’m doing here.

We heard groans and shoving from the stairwell.

“Hey, what’s that?” The little guy jumped to his feet. “The hell’s goin’ on down there?” He’d dropped his ratty blond handful; the strands disappeared, blending into the carpet.

Her hair. I had to stop him from burning her hair.

I don’t know why it mattered so much to me. Hair is just dead cells, we learned that in science. You can’t make a whole new person from dead cells. Holding a piece of hair is sort of like holding on to the past.

My hand snaked out and snatched a dry, matted clump from the pile.

I want to start fresh, be a whole new person,
Icka had wished in my dream.

I want to erase this whole goddamn night.

They were trying to erase her, destroy all traces of her. I couldn’t let them. My fist closed in a tight grip around my lock of hair. I was never going to let it go. I was going to have to be buried with a piece of my sister’s gross hair that I’d always made fun of.

“Ray!” Keith barked. “
Help
me here. I need backup.”

“Oh, Jesus.” The little guy’s bird eyes jerked toward the front door. “This isn’t fucking happening,” he muttered, then yelled back, “All right, I’m coming!” and scurried past me.

I couldn’t see what help the little guy would be in a fight between massive Keith and a Wave-powered Jamie.

Then I realized he wasn’t heading toward the stairs but had disappeared behind one of the doors in the hallway. A bedroom, I guessed. Quickly, I followed, Listening.
I just want to wake up and have this all be a dream,
he whispered. Me too, I thought.
That chick better stay the fuck out of my way. Hope this scares her off. I don’t want have to shoot anyone.

Shoot anyone? Was he…oh my god oh my god. He was getting a GUN?

I heard the shriek of breaking glass, several thumps, and then a low, animal sound of pain. Jamie!

“Call off your pit bull, bitch.” Keith was in my face suddenly, his sweaty hand on my throat, his sour-cream-and-onion-chips breath my only air supply. “You have no right.” His voice cracked, and I saw his ferrety face was raw and red as a hunk of steak. A mix of threat and pleading in his voice. “Get out of here! Before you both end up dead.”

“Dead,” I repeated dumbly, and gripped the lock of Icka’s hair tight.

Behind Keith I saw Jamie writhing on the floor. Bits of green glass surrounded him. As he staggered to stand, new angry cuts on his forehead trailed blood down his eyebrows.
I want you to run for it,
he Whispered.
I hope you can still find your sister, alone.

“Jamie, no.” My voice came out pinched, ragged. “Icka’s…she’s…she can’t be…” Dead.

Jamie opened his mouth and a howl of grief escaped him. My grief.
I wish you’d go,
he Whispered,
don’t stay and see me rip his throat out.
The focused fury in his eyes told me he was past the point of controlling it. The Waves had taken over. Jamie headed straight for Keith, stalking him across the room.

“Oh, Jesus.” Keith’s hand fell from my neck, and he backed away, toward the door. “Don’t let this berserker kill me. What’s he run on—meth, PCP? Ray!” he bawled.
“Ray.”

The door to the other room burst open, and the little guy stood holding a shotgun. Trained on me.

My vision tunneled. The gun. The gun. The gun. It was all I could see. I’d never seen someone aim a real gun. My mind raced from the past—we were outside ten minutes ago, I was at my birthday party last night—to the future. My parents’ lives ruined, Jamie dead or in prison for life. I might meet Icka again. What would I tell her? I should have stood by you, against this horrible world. We might have had more of a chance.

I Heard Jamie Whisper,
Wish you would run and let me cover you.

Run. God, I wanted to. Maybe they wouldn’t shoot me, they’d be too busy fighting Jamie. Jamie. He was standing
with me against the world. I couldn’t leave him behind.

“You think I won’t do it?” Ray said. “Oh, I’ll do it!” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Owl eyes wide in their frames. Feathered hair sticking up in all directions like he’d rubbed his tiny head with a balloon.
I hope I really have the guts,
he Whispered. “Shit, where’s the safety on this thing?”

These guys had no idea what they were doing. He could shoot us by
accident.

Jamie grimaced at me. Sweat pooled in the divot between his nose and upper lip.
I wish,
he Whispered.
I had. Control.
His face twisted, eyebrows dipping, as several expressions crossed it in turn: anger, fear, suspicion, guilt, grief. I knew it came from all of us.
Wish. I could learn. To ride this Wave….

He blew a long line of air out his mouth. Then, with three running steps that seemed faster than human, he spun and kicked Ray’s hands. Ray screamed. The gun hit the floor barrel first, and my heart almost stopped. But it didn’t go off.

I dove for the gun. No one tried to stop me.

Jamie had collapsed in a dizzy heap on the ground.
Gotta get. Back on.

Ray was cowering against the wall. Keith hovered by the front door. Both of them Whispering frantically, praying to stay alive.

What was I supposed to do now? My old way of decision-making was useless. Let’s see: What Would Mom Do If
She Was Holding the Gun of the Drug Dealer Who She Suspected Killed Her Sister? Mom would look for the best in everyone. Against all odds, she’d assume that Keith and Ray were decent people. But wasn’t it too late for that? I’d seen what people really were inside: evil. Seen what Mom was: a liar.

Channel Dad. He’d know how to be cool and logical, assess the pieces, assign priorities. Gun in hand, sister’s hair on floor, scary dealers lurking, friend catching his breath before his next murderous rampage…that was priority one. Jamie rode a Wave for five seconds, but it left him weak. Now he needed a lifeline, and he wasn’t going to get it from these guys. I forced myself to slow my breathing. Calm. Composed. In control. Then I pivoted to face Jamie so the Waves coming out of my chest would hit him directly. “Ride this,” I said. He leaned toward me, as if drinking in my energy. Slowly, still dazed, he stood. Ray and Keith watched in fear.

The gun felt heavy and cold in my hands, powerful. They were going to do this to
us
. Maybe they’d done it to Icka…. I imagined pulling the trigger, exploding Keith’s head. But as I Listened to them begging for their lives, I knew it just wasn’t in me.

Instead I waved the gun at them. “What happened to my sister?” I didn’t recognize my own voice. “No one gets out of here, not till I find out the truth.”

Keith looked sadly at Ray. Neither of them spoke. Then, as I Listened, all the Whispers in the room grew staticky
and began to change. It was the strangest sensation, as if someone had switched channels in my mind.

Keith:
I wish I hadn’t been online that day and tried to impress a girl.

Ray:
If I’d known she was going to take everything all at once…

Tears ran down my face. The gun felt heavier. “She overdosed?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ray said primly.

Keith looked at the carpet.
I wish I hadn’t lied.
“We had something special together.”

“Special?” I spat the word. “You lied to an underage girl that you could solve all her problems with drugs!”

“It wasn’t like that!” he roared. “We had a connection.”

Ray cringed.
I hope the cops don’t connect her to us when she comes to.

Comes to? “Wait, she’s alive?” A lump formed in my throat. “She’s still alive?”

Ray finally broke down. “We don’t know, all right?” He shrugged helplessly. “She OD’d, or had a reaction or something. At first it was just a bad trip. She went all delusional, kept talking about her special powers.”

“She was kind of crazy,” Keith added, fondly, “but hot, even when she shaved her head.” His long face fell. “Then she started choking.”

“Where is she? What did you do to her?” I realized I was waving the gun at Keith when he whimpered and
shrank back instead of answering.

Ray spoke up in his fussy voice. “We took her to Harborview Medical. Half an hour ago.”

“The hospital?” I remembered bouncing down the stairs, hitting the metal door on the way out, passing out in the small gasoline-and-moldy-crackers space. They hadn’t driven her into a lake or thrown her body off a cliff. “Jessica’s alive and in the hospital?”

“Who’s Jessica?” Keith said, jerking his head back in confusion. “We dropped
Allison
off at the ER.”

“I checked her in with a fake phone number,” Ray said, sighing. “Said she was my sister.”

“She lied about her name?” Keith looked disgusted. “But she was going to be my girlfriend.”

I turned to Jamie. “Are they lying?”

He shook his head.

“Take us there,” I said.