Wraith (10 page)

Not death! Stop that!

I planted my feet. "Matt?"

He stopped in his tracks and swung round. "What
is it?" he asked, one look at my face turning his expression into concern.
"What’s wrong?"

"I… um…"

"Tell him!" Zane ordered.

"I’m sorry," I spat out. "This is
really embarrassing and I should have said something sooner, but you see—"

My sweat had soaked through my dress. The screaming
was hideous, gut-wrenching, endless…

"I’m afraid of heights," I blurted, my
voice cracking. "I can’t do it. I can’t go any closer. I’m sorry, but I
just
can’t
."

Matt’s blue eyes pierced into mine. His concern
faded—amazingly—into a smile. With one motion he threw an arm around my middle,
hugged me tight, and whirled me around. "Is that all?" he said
cheerfully. "Wow, I thought you were really sick or something. Come
on—let’s get out of here."

With his strong arm guiding me, we made it back to
the car in record time, and within seconds we were pulling out of the lot and
back onto the road.

The noise faded. The shadows thinned, then gradually
disappeared. The biting fear ceased its death grip on my roiling insides… but
it refused to leave me altogether. My hands still trembled; my body was still
cold.

"Thanks," I said feebly. "I know you
must think I’m a real wimp—"

Matt shot his free hand across the car to grip mine.
"Kali, you don’t have to say anything. I know what it’s like. And by that
I mean,
I
know
what it’s like
."

My eyes widened. "You’re… afraid of heights,
too?"

He chuckled. "Not heights, no. I’d be a pretty
sucky candidate for a pilot with that problem. But mine’s almost as bad. I get
claustrophobic."

A grin played at the corners of my mouth. The weight
of grayness around me began to lift a little. "Really?"

"Like, seriously," he insisted. "My
dad’s worried about me freaking out in a cockpit or something, but that doesn’t
bother me. I can get close and personal with walls, as long as there’s a window
around and some breathing room. But you put me on a stalled elevator with so
many people I can’t even stretch out my arms—"

He gave an exaggerated shudder. "I swear to
God, Kali, I completely lost it in front of half the football team one time. We
were going to a banquet in Honolulu on the top floor of this high rise, and
there were way too many of us packed in the elevator—the guys were making a
joke out of it, you know. And either they broke the stupid thing or our weight
tripped some kind of safety sensor—in any event, we were stuck in that
god-awful box for twenty minutes before they got the door open, and I was one
hundred percent convinced I was going to die."

"I can imagine," I commiserated.

"The funny thing was—I really was about to
die," he insisted. "Because if I’d had to stay in that place another
five minutes, either I would have had a heart attack or my teammates would have
beat the crap out of me for blubbering like an idiot."

He chuckled to himself, and—feeling like I’d been
given permission—I laughed with him. "That must have been really
awful."

"Yeah, well… the aftermath was no fun either. I
still
get abused about it, and it’s been two years!"

"Kids can be cruel," I quipped with a
grin. We were moving down out of the mountains now, with views of the city of
Honolulu peeking out at us periodically, boasting of much, much more to
explore. The horrors of Pali Lookout… the sights, the sounds, the bone-numbing
fear… were not yet completely vanquished.

But they were getting there.

Unconsciously, I squeezed Matt’s hand.

He smiled at me and squeezed back.

"And this," Matt announced with a proud
flourish, "is Frederick High School."

The sprawling, white plaster building looked more
like a motel than a high school, having two stories with outside walkways, both
protected by the typical wide-eaved, gently sloping Hawaiian roof. Two taller,
boxier buildings which I assumed were a gym and an auditorium rounded out its
sides, with an athletic field on one end and a moderately sized parking lot on
the other.

"It probably looks small to you," he
continued, "compared to public schools on the mainland. But it’s the
second biggest private school here. Some of them have, like, five kids in a
class. And we’ve got the best facilities by far. Saint Anthony’s gym is crap
and their field’s always flooding." 

It was evening already, but clusters of students
could still be seen coming and going from the building. There were almost as
many dead ones as live ones.

What
was
it about Hawaii and shadows?
Cheyenne had its fair share, as did every place else I’d ever lived. But the
past few days in Oahu their presence had seemed inescapable—and that was
without even considering Zane.

"So," Matt said happily, squeezing my hand
again. "What do you think? Do you want to see inside? It looks like
something’s going on in there—door’s probably open."

I tried to concentrate on what Matt was saying as
the shadow of a Hawaiian boy, roughly thirteen or fourteen, shirtless and
shoeless, shimmied up a nonexistent flagpole twenty yards away.

The kid was upset about something.

"We’d probably better not right now," I
said impetuously, anxious to get away from the shadow, who I feared was about
to hurt himself. I averted my eyes, irritated greatly by my sudden weakness. I
did
want to see the blasted school. But I couldn’t, not now. Something bad was also
bound to happen to the two shadow girls in skirts who were smoking by the side
entrance... one of them was so afraid I could taste it. And she kept looking
over her shoulder…

Ignore them!

With a huge effort, I turned to Matt with a smile.
"I wish I could stay longer, but I do want to drive by a couple other
schools, too, and we’re already running late. Would you mind?"

"No, that’s fine," he responded, his
disappointment poorly concealed. "When do you have to leave? Maybe we
could come back some time."

"I don’t know," I answered vaguely,
relieved as the car turned and pulled away. I hated seeing the shadows of other
kids. Even though I reasoned that just because I saw them in their youth didn’t
necessarily mean they had
died
young, there was something about it that
was unsettling. More unsettling than usual, even.

Come to think of it, a lot of the shadows I’d been
seeing lately were more upsetting than usual.

Why
was
that?

My heart began to pound again.

"He thinks you’re blowing him off, Kali,"
a familiar voice said softly from the back seat. "Which—for the
record—would be fine by me, but I have a feeling you don’t intend to. You’re
seeing more shadows, aren’t you?"

I jerked, pulling my sagging frame up straight
again. "I’m sorry, Matt," I said quickly, forcing cheerfulness.
"I was thinking about something else. What did you say?"

His face flooded with relief. "I asked how much
longer you were staying."

"We planned for a week, originally," I
explained. "But we left it flexible. My mother is determined to find a
house, and I can get an excuse from school if I need it."

He smiled. "Cool. We’ll check out the
competition, then. Are you Catholic?"

"Partially," I answered.

He chuckled. "That’ll be good enough for Saint
Anthony’s."

A few minutes later we arrived at the school in
question, which I had enough sense not to compliment on its comparatively
larger buildings or more spacious grounds. Matt was right about the athletic
field, though. It wasn’t flooded at the moment, but the ducks that meandered
about on its outskirts looked distinctly hopeful.

I drew a breath of relief. There was less traffic
here, living or otherwise.    

"So, what’s the real reason you don’t like
Saint Anthony’s?" I asked teasingly.

He smirked. "Well, mainly because they kick our
butts at football," he admitted. "Aside from that, I’m just kidding.
It’s okay. As good as anywhere. Oahu can be a rough place if you haven’t
heard—long history of racial tension. Nobody’s a majority here. White, Asian,
and Hawaiian all have to get along, not to mention the whole
local-versus-military thing. But it can be pretty cool, too. I’ve got friends
of all shades here—not like some of the backward, racist holes I got stuck in
when I was a kid."

"I hear that," I muttered thoughtfully.

"We can swing by some of the public schools
near the base if you want," he suggested. "Does your dad want to
stick close to work?"

I looked over his shoulder to notice a guy—a living
one, this time—emerging from a side door of what was probably the school’s gym.
Notable in that he was built remarkably like Matt, including the thick neck, I
watched him absently as I answered.

"I doubt it. My dad doesn’t mind driving. He’s
more concerned with finding a house my mother will like. I think they’re
leaning toward private school for me, though, since I’ve only got a year left
and it’s going to be tricky transferring everything before I apply to college.
School administrators tend to be more understanding about that sort of thing
when you're paying tuition."

"I bet," he agreed with a laugh.

The guy had spotted our car and stopped cold. He was
of indeterminate origin, possibly part Hawaiian or part Asian, but also
possibly not—his generically dark features could have come from any continent.
He would have been quite good looking, had his narrowed eyes not been radiating
such intense dislike I could feel a chill sliding up my backbone.

"Matt," I said warningly. "Who is
that guy staring at us? Do you know him?"

Matt whirled around. To my surprise, he leaned out
the window and threw the still scowling guy a friendly wave.

"Hey, Rod," he called amiably.

Rod’s lips broke into a smirking half smile. He
offered a begrudging, barely perceptible nod.

"My nemesis," Matt said jokingly, turning
to me. "Guy plays every sport I play, and he’s awesome at all of them. We
crushed them in our last polo match, though. He’s probably still ticked."

I tried to relax as I looked again at the figure on
the sidewalk. "Ticked" did not begin describe the blatant hostility
that flowed from him—nor did a loss at water polo.

Matt turned his attention back to me, seemingly
unfazed. "You ready to go?"

"He really looks angry," I commented.

Matt glanced over his shoulder as he pulled the car
away from the curb,  threw Rod another wave, and drove on. "He’s never a
barrel of laughs," he said with a shrug, "but he’s okay. Where to
next, then?"

I started to say something else, but stopped myself.
Matt’s lack of concern was incomprehensible to me. Could he really not see…

A thought struck. A painful, gut-wrenching thought.

I needed to talk to Zane. But I couldn’t say a word.
There was no way I could communicate with him with Matt right there. My
question would have to wait.

I tried hard to put it out of my mind.

The sun began to set.

The climax of this natural spectacle played out for
us just as we reached the North Shore town of Haleiwa, and Matt pulled off the
main road to take in the view at the nearest beach park. Zane made himself
conspicuously absent as Matt and I walked to Pauena Point, enjoying the
symphony of colors that danced over the water’s edge, illuminating the clusters
of puffy, low-slung clouds that moved lazily across the darkening sky.

"Welcome to Hawaii. Are you sold yet?"
Matt asked with a grin, throwing an arm around my shoulders again. I wasn’t a
fan of handsy guys—not that, if you must know, I’d had much experience with
them—but Matt managed to come off more like a giant teddy bear.

I had to admit, it worked for him. I didn’t feel in
the least bit threatened by his touch; instead, it felt comforting.

By the time we returned to the condo we had
exchanged cell phone numbers and I had committed to checking out the inside of
Frederick High. I had also almost forgotten the unpleasant, lingering memories
of Pali Lookout and the scowling jock at Saint Anthony’s.

Almost.

Matt got out of the car and walked me in, despite my
warning that doing so would result in an interrogation by my father about
Matt’s interest in the Air Force Academy and God only knew what else. I was
right, of course. My father lay in ambush in the hallway, pretending to
intercept us while taking out a half-full bag of trash. Luckily, Matt didn’t
seem to mind too much, and since my existence did not, predictably, come up
anywhere in their conversation, things never got too awkward. Nevertheless, as
an apology, I offered to walk Matt back out to the landing afterward… around
the forgotten bag of trash.

"This has been really nice. Thanks," I
said genuinely, as we lingered on the wooden platform outside. The continuous
crash of the waves behind us floated on the air like music, and a sudden gust
of night wind picked up my curls and lashed them across my face.

"You’ve been great company," Matt said
softly, lifting a hand to brush my hair from my eyes. "I’ll be your tour
guide anytime."

I knew then, by sheer female instinct, that if I
didn’t say anything or move anywhere, he was going to kiss me. His intentions,
like everything else that was going on in his uncomplicated mind, were clearly
readable in his eyes.

I just wasn't sure how I felt about them.

I liked him a lot. Who wouldn’t? He was sweet and
good-looking and honest. He was fun to be around, and he had been remarkably
understanding about my meltdown at Pali Lookout.

Still, I wasn’t sure, and I had only a split-second
to decide. Because I also knew, by the same instinct, that all I had to do was
make the slightest of backward movements, and Matt would abort the plan with no
hard feelings. It was, after all, our first date. Not to mention the first time
we ever met. He would have other opportunities.