Chasing Midnight (15 page)

You can get lost in here too, which is sort of what I need right now—now that the high from yesterday morning has been replaced with today’s reality.

The reality of losing half my family. Of losing my best friend.

And the way all the good things in my life have started to unravel one by one, I’m starting to worry I’ve lost James too. It’s Saturday evening and I haven’t heard a thing from him since yesterday after school. A slow panic has been building up in me throughout the day while I’ve mulled over every possible reason he’s gone cold on me.

I also haven’t been able to stop thinking about the Bird Lady’s question to me in that antique store yesterday—
“Knowing what you know now, would you have still tried to save Spencer?”

That’s such a loaded question—she should know that.

I think I would always be trying to find a way to heal my brother, just not at such a high price. I mean, even with all that I have in this new life, where everything is a hundred times easier and luckier and more expensive than my old life down by the creek, I still wouldn’t give up my brothers for
any
of it—not even for Spencer’s lungs . . . at least not permanently. Who would?

Sure, I could handle a couple of weeks with them gone, maybe even a month or two. But not indefinitely.

My pulse fires up at the thought. Maybe that’s all this is. Maybe this is just temporary.

Is it?

But then that would mean Spencer’s health is only temporary too.

Ugh! This is so. Not. Fair.

I hold onto the clock charm where it dances at my neck, looking for answers, wishing the faint tick-tock of the magical clock inside had the power to dull this raw feeling in my chest so I could enjoy my new life a little more and not dwell on what I can’t fix. So I can forget what I’ve lost, at least long enough to enjoy a few new benefits. Mostly just wishing for a way to fix my wishes so they weren’t so stinking conditional.

This is a good life. This is
mostly
what I wanted, even if it isn’t perfect. Nobody has everything they want, right? I hear myself rationalizing.

Bird Lady, what have you done? Where are you now?

I peer through the foliage, inhaling an exaggerated whiff of air, hoping to catch a hint of cinnamon or roasted hazelnuts somewhere in the musty air.

I know you’re out there.

The caw of a bird high in the treetops makes me jump.

Every crackle in the leaves has me spinning around, looking for a streak of blue.

You think you’re so clever how you tricked me. You only asked if this was what I wanted . . . you didn’t warn me about any side effects, you sneaky enigma.

My phone buzzes against my arm, and I slow to a stop.

It’s James. Finally!

When I say hello, terrified he’s calling to break up with me, I’m relieved to hear him sounding as sweet and endearing as usual . . . well, for as long as I’ve known him, which technically has only been about thirty-two hours.

“Hey, baby, what’s up?” he says, like nothing is different, like he hasn’t gone rogue on me for a full day. He doesn’t even seem to notice I’m out of breath, either.

“I’ve missed you, K,” his voice purrs in my ear, almost painfully, bringing out the day’s first smile in me.

Despite wanting to hear from him, I’m suddenly at a loss for words. I don’t know him well enough to read him or his moods—especially over the phone. He sounds the same as before . . . I think. But I still think it’s weird he hasn’t talked to me since yesterday after school. Then again, maybe that’s normal protocol for our relationship.

Maybe?

“Let’s do dinner tonight, before swimming.” he says, so matter-of-factly. “Just you and me.”

“Sure,” I say, my nerves tingling in excitement. “What ti—”

He cuts me off. “See you at six, K. I can’t wait.”

I look at my watch. Crap—it’s 5:45. “Where?” I ask.

But he’s already hung up.

I turn around and start sprinting back the other way, not sure if I’m going to make it home in time to shower and be ready for dinner in fifteen minutes . . . but the more I replay our conversation in my head, the more I realize how bugged I am James didn’t ask me so as much as
tell
me about our plans—he didn’t even wait to get my input, either. It’s like
he expects me to drop everything and come running to him when he beckons.

Which is exactly what I’m doing.

I slow down, realizing I don’t
have
to do what he says. It’s not like he’s all-powerful. James Odera can wait for me.

Right?

Then why am I scared to find out what happens if I
do
make him wait? And why do I still feel guilty about
wanting
to run to him as fast as possible?

A gust of wind tears through the trees, rattling the branches. To the left of me, the sound of footsteps crunches over the dead leaves littering the ground. I spin around, wondering if Bird Lady is about to materialize again . . . .

Waiting.

Armed with more questions for her as soon as she appears. A deep voice splinters the silence from somewhere inside the thickness of the trees. “Hey.”

Not Bird Lady.

I tense up, searching for a face belonging to the voice, afraid now that I’m about to get mugged. Or worse.

“Hey,
what?”
I call back, trying to sound tough, even though my hands have started shaking.

A tall figure emerges from behind a redwood tree, and I reach for the nearest rock, hoping my aim isn’t as bad as my luck. But I’m instantly put at ease when I see Cale Blackburn perched on his mountain bike. His sandy blond head is uncovered and his hair a giant mess—no style whatsoever going on today.

I exhale in relief, my heart still whimpering. “Cale! What are you doing in there? Practicing your stalking skills?”

He laughs and ducks under a branch, coming forward to meet me. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“So . . . what are you doing here? Just following me around now?”

“Um . . . we said we’d meet in front of the yogurt store at
five,” he says innocently. “You didn’t show, so I was riding to your house to find you. But it looks like someone tried to ditch me, instead.”

“Wait, what? When did we decide this?

“Yesterday. After class. When I told you about the album artwork idea, remember?”

Crap. No, I don’t remember.

He cracks a smile and jabs me in the side. “Not surprised.”

Ouch. I feel like such a flake, standing him up like that. And it seems like that’s my MO in this life. What is wrong with me?

I apologize a hundred times even though he’s way too unfazed by my brainlessness. How can he be so chill? “Looks like your plan didn’t work, though, cause I found you anyway.”

“I wasn’t trying to ditch you, Cale! I just . . . forgot. I promise.”

“Likely story,” he says, wheeling out in front of me and hopping off his bike so we’re walking side by side. Before I know it, his hand is somehow on my arm and slowly sliding down to my wrist. I don’t know why, because Cale is
not
James Odera, but I find myself hoping his hand will quit moving.

But his hand ignores my wishes and keeps going and going . . . until it has slipped away from me and we are no longer attached. A burst of wind sends my hair flying into his face. He lets out an exaggerated cough, and then, “Mmmmm. You smell delicious. What kind of fancy hair product do you have going on there?”

I’m embarrassed to admit I have no idea. Normally, it’s whatever Mom has stocked in the shower, something cheap or on sale. But my current mother doesn’t seem to be the one stocking anything in our house—including whatever non-pronounceable European hair product I used in the shower this morning. So I go with the first thing that pops in my head. “Head & Shoulders, if you must know.”

“Oh.”

“I guess it doesn’t take much to impress you, does it?” I laugh, easing into this banter between us, every second with him lifting my jittery mood.

We cut across the grass to a playground buried in bark. Cale stops in front of a row of monkey bars and drops his bike before jumping up to the first bar, taking the rest two at a time. I hesitate, knowing I should keep moving, knowing I’m already late and that James is waiting for me . . . somewhere. But right this second, with Cale’s carefree attitude and the way he’s attacked the monkey bars like a kid, like nothing else matters but getting across to the other side—I decide I don’t care.

James can wait.

Copying Cale, I jump up and grab the opposite side of the monkey bars to face him. Cale starts coming at me fast, like this is a competition and he wants to beat me.
Game on.
I throw my body forward and clasp the next rung, the metal cold and greasy against my skin. He reaches the middle before me and stops, just hanging there, waiting for me to reach him. I don’t know how he can hold himself up for so long like that; my arms feel like they will tear from their sockets if I don’t keep moving.

When I finally get to him, my breaths come out much too fast and heavy. Our faces meet, only inches apart; I can hear him breathing, which seems like such an intimate thing. He clenches his jaw and his eyes lock on mine, looking at me in a different way than before, almost like he’s trying to tell me something. I want to look away because all of a sudden I feel uncomfortable and a little embarrassed, when I know I have a boyfriend who’s waiting for me to show up any minute. But I keep my eyes focused on Cale’s—tonight they’re a mix between green and gray, the gray like a swirl of ink clouding out the color.

Being so close to him has stupefied me, and I’m not sure what I want to do anymore. What am I doing here with him, anyway? What about James?
James Odera!
I try to shake loose this unexpected flux of emotion that’s racing through me right
now, and just when I think I’m free, I get sucked in all over again at the feel of his breath on my neck and the musky scent of his skin. I close my eyes, his voice tickling my eardrums . . . His smile digs deep into the sides of his cheeks as he grins, as if taunting me. My arms ache and I lose my grip, the sweat from my hands betraying me.

“I’m slipping,” I say, realizing the inevitable.

“Don’t go.” A hint of longing in his voice, or maybe not . . . I fall to the ground. He lets go too, and we crash into the bark below, tangled up in each other, laughing. The tension evaporates, and we’re just there together like two little kids on a playground, having fun.

“Nice move, Love,” he says, throwing a handful of bark at me.

The rough edges of the woodchips poke into my palms as I lay there next to him, gazing up through the geometric pattern of the metal bars to the fading sky above. The whole sky is moving, filling, and then draining with color . . . finally going gray at the sun’s descent. I think I see a star puncturing its way through the void.

The swings creak behind us.

Cale turns on his side and jumps up, dusting off his pants and running his hands through his messy hair, shaking out any remaining bark. I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to interrupt this moment with anything at all because it’s the first moment since waking up in my new life I’ve felt like myself.

“You okay?” he asks, hovering over me.

I smile up at him, wishing his soothing voice and his carefree attitude could wipe clean the mess in my brain and my new life, but being here with him only awakens me to the realization that nothing is as simple as making wishes and hoping they come true.

Far from it.

The wind picks up again, drawing a chill across my body like a silken sheet of ice. I shiver, and Cale pulls me up. He
grabs his bike, and we walk side by side through the park, cutting off the creek path at Wildwood Avenue, taking it straight up the hill, toward Sea View Drive.

I offer him one of my earbuds. “You want to share?” I ask.

“Depends on what’s playing.”

I laugh. “Well, then forget it,” I say, hogging the music to myself.

Cale doesn’t seem to take well to that, though, because two seconds later he pulls the earbud out of my right ear and shoves it in his. I give him a look. He gives me one back—a wily smirk and raised eyebrows meeting me in defiance before he starts bobbing his head to the beat. I grin. He appears to take that as a go-ahead for going full-on freestyle right here in the middle of the street.

I try to keep a straight face, but it’s impossible, especially when he attempts to moonwalk and ends up tripping over his long legs. He finally stops dancing when I won’t stop laughing.

“What’s so funny?” he says.

We walk the rest of the way in silence. Ten more minutes of a shared jam session while I get lost in my thoughts, wondering how I ever got here. Wondering what other surprises Bird Lady has in store for me, wondering if I can handle it.

Wondering what Cale’s thinking. If he’s thinking anything at all, other than how to annoy me with his dance moves.

At the bottom of my driveway, we both stop at the same time. Cale pulls out my earbud and hands it back to me. “Thanks for the tunes,” he says.

“Sure.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Cale’s crooked tooth peeks out at me again from the corner of his smile.

I wish I could tell him everything, just to be able to talk to
somebody
about the bizarre turn of events called my life. Just so I don’t feel so alone. But he’d never believe me. Who would? How do I admit out loud that I’m a fraud parading around in somebody else’s world, that I wished on a Bird Lady’s charm
and all my wishes came true except the price was I killed off my brothers and lost my best friend?

Right. I don’t.

We climb the driveway listening to the sound of crickets instead of music. I like the quiet, even here with Cale. It’s not awkward or stifling like silence between two people can sometimes be.

As soon as we round the corner, bringing my house into view, I stop. There are three cars parked out front.

“What? You didn’t invite me to your party, either?” Cale says, pretend-shoving me even though I still lose my balance. “I’m so hurt.”

I regain my balance and keep walking, shoving him back to keep things fair. “There’s no party, Cale. I don’t know who . . . ”