train.
And that matters … I had answered… why?
The swirling conflict siphoned suddenly down into a
single, unified stream. Matt didn’t even know that I was a dancer, did he? Not
that I had been keeping it a secret… he had simply never asked. We had never
really talked about me at all.
I took a tiny step backward.
"I’ll take you up on that," I said with a
smile. "I do want to see your school again."
He smiled back, his eyes a trifle disappointed, but
otherwise unhurt and unfazed. "It’s a date, then," he said
unequivocally, starting down the steps to his car. "I’ll text you."
"See you!" I responded cheerfully, opening
the door. Then, with a final wave, I ducked inside.
This time both my parents were waiting for me in the
great room, eager to hear all about what parts of the island I had seen and
whether or not I had any ideas of my own about schools—among other topics. They
showed admirable restraint in not asking me specifically how I felt about Matt,
but their endless questions nevertheless left me impatient and fidgety.
I wanted to talk to Zane. I hadn’t had so much as a
glimpse of him since before sunset, and I wondered if he had left me
altogether.
The thought left a pit in my stomach.
After what seemed like an eternity, I escaped the
inquisition and stepped out onto the deck. Zane was nowhere in sight, but I
took the chance anyway.
"If you can hear me," I whispered, given
that some barbecuing neighbors on the next deck were within earshot, "come
talk to me in my room. Please?"
There was no response.
I went back inside and excused myself for an early
bedtime, which raised no eyebrows, seeing as how we were all, biologically,
still half on Mountain Time. As soon as the bedroom door was closed behind me,
I looked around hopefully. "Zane?"
"By special invitation," he answered,
lounging across the foot of my bed in nothing but board shorts, which along
with the rest of him were soaking wet.
Glad as I was to see him, and as well as I
knew—rationally—that it was all an illusion, I felt a flare of annoyance at the
sight of the gritty sea water dripping onto my spread. I hated clammy sheets.
"Do you mind?" I protested mildly.
"What?" he pretended innocently, looking
down. "Oh, sorry. Forgot it’s bedtime."
He changed in a blink. This time his curls were not
only dry, but perfectly coifed with slick hair gel. He was still bare chested,
but now he wore blindingly bright blue oriental-silk sleep bottoms embroidered
with neon orange fire and purple dragons—as if he'd stepped straight out of the
seduction scene of a really bad movie.
" Zane! "
He dissolved into laughter, changing instantly into
a suitably normal-looking tee shirt, shorts, and sandals. "Sorry," he
repeated between gasps. "Couldn’t resist. What’s up?"
I took a few centering breaths, then sat down on the
bed beside him. I was pretty sure he hadn’t really left me at all this evening,
but a part of me was afraid to ask. I knew he was dead and everything, but
still, sitting with one gorgeous guy openly discussing one’s date with another
was beyond weird.
Thankfully, it wasn’t "the date" I wanted
to discuss.
"Did you see the guy at Saint Anthony’s?"
I asked. "The one Matt called Rod?"
"The one you were so worried about? Yeah,
why?"
I waited for more reaction. "Well, didn’t you find his attitude disturbing?"
Zane’s brow furrowed. "I’m not sure what you
mean. They didn’t look like best buds, but so what?"
My heart began to race.
It couldn’t be.
"Seriously, Kali," Zane began, his voice
more concerned. "What is it that’s got you so upset? I don’t get it."
"I could feel him!" I blurted. My heart
beat so hard I could hear my pulse in my ears.
Zane said nothing for a moment. "Okay… so can
you please explain that? What do you mean, you could ‘feel’ him?"
"Like the shadows," I continued, trying
hard to make more sense, but knowing that there was a limit—seeing as how nothing
about the shadows
And that matters … I had answered… why?
The swirling conflict siphoned suddenly down into a
single, unified stream. Matt didn’t even know that I was a dancer, did he? Not
that I had been keeping it a secret… he had simply never asked. We had never
really talked about me at all.
I took a tiny step backward.
"I’ll take you up on that," I said with a
smile. "I do want to see your school again."
He smiled back, his eyes a trifle disappointed, but
otherwise unhurt and unfazed. "It’s a date, then," he said
unequivocally, starting down the steps to his car. "I’ll text you."
"See you!" I responded cheerfully, opening
the door. Then, with a final wave, I ducked inside.
This time both my parents were waiting for me in the
great room, eager to hear all about what parts of the island I had seen and
whether or not I had any ideas of my own about schools—among other topics. They
showed admirable restraint in not asking me specifically how I felt about Matt,
but their endless questions nevertheless left me impatient and fidgety.
I wanted to talk to Zane. I hadn’t had so much as a
glimpse of him since before sunset, and I wondered if he had left me
altogether.
The thought left a pit in my stomach.
After what seemed like an eternity, I escaped the
inquisition and stepped out onto the deck. Zane was nowhere in sight, but I
took the chance anyway.
"If you can hear me," I whispered, given
that some barbecuing neighbors on the next deck were within earshot, "come
talk to me in my room. Please?"
There was no response.
I went back inside and excused myself for an early
bedtime, which raised no eyebrows, seeing as how we were all, biologically,
still half on Mountain Time. As soon as the bedroom door was closed behind me,
I looked around hopefully. "Zane?"
"By special invitation," he answered,
lounging across the foot of my bed in nothing but board shorts, which along
with the rest of him were soaking wet.
Glad as I was to see him, and as well as I
knew—rationally—that it was all an illusion, I felt a flare of annoyance at the
sight of the gritty sea water dripping onto my spread. I hated clammy sheets.
"Do you mind?" I protested mildly.
"What?" he pretended innocently, looking
down. "Oh, sorry. Forgot it’s bedtime."
He changed in a blink. This time his curls were not
only dry, but perfectly coifed with slick hair gel. He was still bare chested,
but now he wore blindingly bright blue oriental-silk sleep bottoms embroidered
with neon orange fire and purple dragons—as if he'd stepped straight out of the
seduction scene of a really bad movie.
" Zane! "
He dissolved into laughter, changing instantly into
a suitably normal-looking tee shirt, shorts, and sandals. "Sorry," he
repeated between gasps. "Couldn’t resist. What’s up?"
I took a few centering breaths, then sat down on the
bed beside him. I was pretty sure he hadn’t really left me at all this evening,
but a part of me was afraid to ask. I knew he was dead and everything, but
still, sitting with one gorgeous guy openly discussing one’s date with another
was beyond weird.
Thankfully, it wasn’t "the date" I wanted
to discuss.
"Did you see the guy at Saint Anthony’s?"
I asked. "The one Matt called Rod?"
"The one you were so worried about? Yeah,
why?"
I waited for more reaction. "Well, didn’t you find his attitude disturbing?"
Zane’s brow furrowed. "I’m not sure what you
mean. They didn’t look like best buds, but so what?"
My heart began to race.
It couldn’t be.
"Seriously, Kali," Zane began, his voice
more concerned. "What is it that’s got you so upset? I don’t get it."
"I could feel him!" I blurted. My heart
beat so hard I could hear my pulse in my ears.
Zane said nothing for a moment. "Okay… so can
you please explain that? What do you mean, you could ‘feel’ him?"
"Like the shadows," I continued, trying
hard to make more sense, but knowing that there was a limit—seeing as how nothing
about the shadows
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