“Yeah, okay. Glad you find it funny,” Cyn said.
“I do find it funny. But thanks for sticking up for me. I really appreciate that.”
She gazed at me with a mix of humor and disbelief on her face. Then her expression turned serious. “Abbey, did I say anything to you at the séance? About being careful?”
Now it was my turn to fidget. I ground the heel of my shoe into the wooden floors and stubbed my toe against the bottom of the locker doors. “I don’t remember. Maybe. Why?”
“It’s just this feeling I have. Sometimes I get these … I don’t know how to word it. They’re just … feelings. But this one’s telling me you should be careful. I know you warned me to watch out, but I’m thinking maybe you should too. Okay?”
The second bell rang. Now I was technically late for class.
“Yeah, I will,” I said nonchalantly, turning away from her.
“We cool?” she asked.
“Absolutely. Catch you later.”
I peeked back at her only once as I walked away. She was still standing by the lockers, frowning, playing absentmindedly with the bracelets on her arm. I didn’t know what was going on with her, or what it meant, but somehow, or some way, Cyn had channeled Kristen.
Now I just wondered how long it would take for her to realize it.
I didn’t wait for Caspian to come pick me up after school, but started home right away.
When I got there, I found a note from Mom saying that she would be out for the evening taking real estate classes with Sophie.
“Not a problem,” I said out loud to the note. I just wanted to see Caspian.
As soon as I thought his name, I paused. Where is Caspian? Is he still up in my room?
I took the stairs two at a time, knowing, just knowing, what I was going to find. Please, don’t let him be asleep. Just let him be busy. Drawing.
My book bag fell out of my grasp and landed on the floor with a thud when I saw him. He was asleep again, but he wasn’t on the bed this time. Instead, he was slumped over in my desk chair. His pad and pencils lay on the desk in front of him.
It didn’t look comfortable, and his face … His face was the worst part. It was contorted in agony, in a grimace that must have happened right before he fell asleep, fell into that dark place. It looked like his dreams were haunting him.
I rushed over and knelt beside him, putting out a hand.
It went right though without the familiar tingle. I couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t move him, or smooth back his hair. Couldn’t wake him up and tell him it was all going to get better.
My fingers fumbled in my pocket, and I found my phone. I dialed Sophie and Kame’s number, but it went straight to voice mail. I hung up and tried again, but it happened again. Finally I decided to call the only other Revenant number that was listed on my phone.
Cacey’s.
She didn’t even have her voice mail set up, just an automated voice that repeated the number I had dialed and told me to leave my message. Growling in frustration, I waited for the beep, then said, “Guys! I’ve been trying to call you. These little things called cell phones don’t work if you don’t pick up on the other end, you know. Caspian is asleep again. And … he doesn’t look good. Can one of you come over and help me move him? Call me, okay? Bye.”
Stepping over to the bed, I sat down on the edge, determined to keep a vigil until someone called me back.
But the call never came. Two hours and six more tries later, I threw the phone across the room and began to pace. This has to mean something. The séance, the warning from Kristen, the look of pain on Caspian’s face. Something is happening.
My head was pounding, probably because I needed to eat dinner, but I wasn’t hungry. After a long look at Caspian behind me, I wandered downstairs and settled on some tea and crackers. It was bland, but it made my head stop aching, at least.
Getting up to throw away the empty cracker box, I stopped when I saw the nearby container of recyclables. There were two empty tin cans sitting on top (sliced cranberries), and a strange thought crossed my mind. Of a game we used to play in elementary school. Telephone …
What the hell. I needed something to keep me occupied.
I grabbed the cans and rinsed them out, patting them thoroughly dry with a paper towel. Then I peeled off the labels and threw them away. I found the string in the junk drawer and pulled a sharp knife off the counter. Positioning the knife on top of the tin, I hammered down with my fist, and the blade poked a jagged hole through. I repeated the motion with the other can. Then I pulled out a long piece of string, threaded one end through the hole, and tied it into a large knot. I left plenty of slack and tied the other end into a knot in the hole of the other can.
Tucking the tins under my arm, I went back upstairs. I felt a little silly when I got there, glancing down at my homemade tin can telephones, and it took a couple of minutes to actually work up the courage to use them.
Wedging one of the tin cans in between two books to hold it still, I propped the books up by Caspian’s ear. Then I pulled the string until it was taut, and carried the other tin can into my closet. I was able to close the door and thread the string out under the bottom, so I could sit inside. Somehow it made me feel less silly if I didn’t have to face him as I spoke into an empty cranberry can.
I leaned my head back against the wall. “Testing, testing,” I whispered. “One, two, three.”
There was no reply, but I hadn’t been expecting one. I guess mostly what I’d been expecting was the chance for someone to listen.
“I don’t know if this is going to work,” I said, putting the open end of the tin can up to my mouth. “This is a game that I played once in third grade. The strings are pulled tight so you can hear sound and words across it. Like a telephone wire.”
The stuffed bear sitting next to me stared up with one glassy eye. I pulled him into my lap and stroked his dark, smooth fur.
“I’m really scared,” I whispered, hoping that somehow Caspian could hear me, wherever he was. “What if I can’t do it? What if I’m not strong enough? What if I tell the Revenants that I … I don’t want to die? What if I beg for a second chance?”
Tears burned behind my lashes, but I refused to let them fall. “Oh, Caspian. That’s what I’m afraid of most of all. What if I’m not strong enough to be with you?” I shook my head. “I don’t know if I can become nothing. If I can become just a shadow of life. And what if you think I don’t love you enough to want to be with you?”
I hugged the bear tightly against my chest.
“I have all of these thoughts always going around and around in my head. I want to be with you. I want that more than anything. So how can there still be a part of me that doesn’t? How can there still be a part of me that wants to cling on? That wants things … other things. Like my shop.”
I closed my eyes and fell silent for a minute. It felt like I was betraying him somehow. By confessing all of this, I was exposing all of my inner secrets and fear. It was embarrassing. And overwhelming.
“I still want you, though,” I said. “But why do I have to choose? Everything I want, it comes with a price. I should be happy that I get to be with you. And yet I want …”
I put the tin can down. Pulled it away from my lips. I couldn’t tell him what I really wanted; him alive, and Kristen alive, and Vincent Drake out of the picture and no more Revenants hanging around.
Lifting the can back up for my farewell, I whispered, “All I want is for you to know that I love you. And I hope I’m strong enough for you.” And I wish you could hear these words …