Of Delicate Pieces (8 page)

“I pictured myself walking through. And I did.”

“But I didn’t see you go through it. You appeared there.”

“Didn’t look the same in my mind. Walk through it, Alex. Sometimes you’re like a brand new dead kid. If you don’t believe half the things we do, and if you can’t see it in your mind, how the heck do you expect it to happen?”

“Chase calls me naïve.”

“You’re naïve enough to think this isn’t possible. Shift your mind enough to put you on the other side.”

Alex blinked, and in that split second she pictured her projection as a chess piece, moving from one square to the next. She found herself on other side of the gate, on the outside looking in.

“Whoa!” She grinned at her friend. “Are you gifted, Skye?”

“No!” She let out a brisk cough of humor. “No way. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve wanted to ask you for a long time. You understand things, you know, kind of the way Professor Duvall explains them.”

“Not at all. Not gifted. I grew up with a bunch of tree hugging drug addicts. They were
all
different there. If I had the abilities of the gifted, I would have used that power to turn the rapist who murdered me into a beetle.”

Something fell at their feet. The impact was heavy, like bitterness. Skye had never given any details about her death.

“If I was magical, I wouldn’t have died. He lived in our colony for three years, and no one saw him for what he was. They had other things on their minds and in their bloodstreams, distorting life.” A branch lowered to her shoulder. She patted it. “There was nothing magical about my life.”

“After something like that, how are you so
sweet
all the time?”

“Because death is so much better.”

Skye’s seriousness felt foreign. Alex wanted Skye to go back to preaching about the properties of flowers and herbs and stones. She wanted her to throw her hair over her shoulder and giggle at the boys trailing behind her.

“I’ll tell you my secret if you tell me yours,” Alex offered.

“No offense, but your secrets hover over the heads of the newburies in the vestibule every morning.”

“Not all of them.”

Skye considered this. “Fine.” She spun on her heel.

Alex stared at Skye’s back. “Why did you turn around?”

“I can’t look at you while we do this.”

“Why?”

“Just because. You go first. I’m not sure you have a secret to equal mine.”

“I’d be offended by your lack of trust, but I know this will be worth your secret, so fine, I’ll go first.” Alex felt a knot forming in her mind, thoughts weaving under and over, through themselves, tightening in apprehension. “Chase and I can speak to each other in our minds.”

“Like how?”

Alex threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know how. We just can.”

“When you’re in the same room?”

“No. He could be across campus, and I can hear him. I can even see what he’s seeing if I want to.”

“I’ve never heard of that.”

“No kidding. Why do you think we kept it a secret?”

Skye still didn’t face Alex but reached out to peel some of the bark from the tree beside her. “You know, that explains some things, like why you guys sit and stare at each other, looking like you’re in mid conversation.”

Alex followed Skye’s lead and picked at the tree. She hadn’t realized she and Chase were so obvious. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Agreed.”

“Oh, this is silly, Skye. Turn around and look at me.”

Skye twisted with a pout on her face. “My secret has to do with pictures. They haunt me.”

“Pictures?”

“In my mind.”

Alex leaned against the tree and crossed her arms. She didn’t think this was worth spilling her guts. “Aren’t we all
haunted
by snapshots when our minds remember things?”

“I don’t see only the things my own thoughts have filed away. I see the things that objects have saved in their memories. See, you can rest against a tree and be at peace. When I touch something, usually whatever it is, the thing decides to speak to me.”

Alex watched as Skye crouched down and stroked the petals of a bright red flower. “A gray fox passed by here not too long ago. No more than a few minutes because it’s the first thing the flower decided to show me.”

“The flower?”

Skye nodded. “Some things are too proud, but most are more than willing. In class, I’ll sit in a chair and see the person who sat there before me, or I’ll see the teacher or the lesson. I get a lot of answers right that way. If I try hard enough, I can shuffle through several memories, but it’s tiring. Trees are the most willing to share. I think they get annoyed about not having an opinion. I couldn’t do this during life though,” she added. She lifted her palms up in defense. “I wasn’t gifted.”

“Have you talked to Duvall about this?”

“No. Considering the questions she asks me and the tasks she gives me, she knows though.”

Duvall always preached that everything had an energy and life of its own. Skye’s talent went hand in hand with such an idea.

“Does anyone else know?”

“Only you.”

Something settled between them, clicking like a key in a lock. “Secret’s safe with me.”

“Likewise.”

They stood regarding each other for several slow moments, and Alex enjoyed the feeling of solidarity.

“So trees speak the most, huh?”

Skye nodded. “Gossipers, yes.”

Alex touched the grandmother tree. “What about this one? Looks like she could have some stories to tell.”

Skye picked a piece of bark with her nails. “To tell you the truth, most of the time I’m scared to ask, but let’s see.”

She pressed her entire hand against the gray trunk. After a moment, she dropped her bag to the ground with a crunch.

“What?”

Skye spun around. “Don’t move,” she hissed.

“Very funny. Are you trying to scare me?”

Skye sucked in a large breath. “Shhhh. Do you smell that?”

Alex inhaled a lungful of ashes. It reeked of fire. Why? She saw nothing, felt no heat, sensed no danger.

Skye slapped her other hand to the trunk of the tree, muttering to herself. “How long ago was she here?”

“What do you see?” Alex insisted.

“A girl. Wiry hair. Ignited eyes. Energy around her. She’s looking for something. Her intentions are desperate.” Skye let out a loud curse. “She’s still out here! Get back through the gate.” She snatched Alex’s hand. “Come on! What are you doing?”

But Alex couldn’t move. Once as a child, Alex was so wrapped up in a game of capture the flag that she hadn’t noticed a copperhead snake coiled three inches from her foot. Its thick, scaly body pulsated as it watched her. Fear struck her, freezing her mind and trickling ice down her spine.

The same sensation struck her now as she felt tiny hands clasp her shin. She shut her eyes tightly, hoping it would go away. Whatever it was, it let go momentarily before wrapping its whole arm around her leg, and its hair brushed against her.

Alex opened one eye. Then, another.
Look down
, she commanded to herself. A barefoot toddler clung to her. Her white cotton dress matched her white, silky hair, which rippled down her back until it ended in a crashing of curls like the break of a waterfall. Alex stared at the child who stared right back.

“Pick her up,” Skye commanded.

“Why?” Alex cried.

“Because she’s stuck to you, and we can’t stay out here in the open.”

“Is she bad?”

“No. Pick her up.”

The child reached up, outstretching her short arms. Alex didn’t know what else to do but obey.

“The bodied can’t get through the barrier of the gate.”

Alex scooped up the girl and cradled her like a baby. “Can she get through?”

“Of course she can,” Skye spat. “Can’t you distinguish the dead from the living? No breathing child looks like that!”

Once they were safely on the other side, Skye stopped and grabbed hold of the interweaving bars, peering into the unknown.

“Are you sure there was someone?”

“It was one of the gifted.”

“Not her though?” Alex jutted her chin at the child.

“No. I already told you she’s dead. And you can put her down.”

Alex set the child on her feet.

Skye shivered violently, and her hair rippled like a curtain in the breeze. “I don’t think my body will ever abandon old habits.”

Alex didn’t understand why the gifted should be so feared. She thought of her friend, Liv, and her endless supply of jokes. “I knew someone gifted growing up, and she was ordinary.”

“Then you never saw her trying to do anything out of the ordinary.”

That was true. “Can you touch the gate or anything else to see if it saw her?”

“Good idea.”

While Skye played patty cake with nature, Alex surveyed the little girl in wonder, mesmerized. Pink cheeks glistened under a perfectly sculpted nose. With her tiny hands, she tugged at Alex forcing her to crouch down. The girl reached to cup Alex’s face.

Skye ran her fingers through her hair. “Nothing. But the fog is rising, and that’s not a good omen.”

The girl nodded empathically.

“We’d better go talk to Duvall,” Skye said.

But by the time they passed the field of gray crosses and reached the frozen creek, they couldn’t remember what had frightened them. They knew they hadn’t completed their task, but they didn’t know what had scared them enough to make them leave. They scratched their heads and wracked their intelligent brains, but each time they opened the bag to see that it was only half full, the haze of forgetfulness deepened.

The child followed, shaking her head. Alex wondered why she kept peering past them into the woods beyond the gate.

When they were alive, Chase’s brothers ridiculed him for being so optimistic. He knew they loved him for it. They said he could see the light in any situation. But then he died, and life’s cruel intentions shaded his vision. He’d been forced to sit and watch Alex shrivel into nearly nothing before death decided she’d suffered enough. His lively, witty Alex was more of a ghost at the end of her life than she was now. The sight still haunted him enough to scare the optimism out of him. Death made him skeptical.

This tiny, ghost-child also made him skeptical. Not because of her colors. It took only a glance to see her purity. A white glow surrounded her. And she gazed at Alex in sparkling adoration. His apprehension derived from his fear about what Alex would do when this child left.

He tried to sound normal. “Duvall said she knew her?”

Alex nodded. Her fingers toyed with the girl’s silky hair. “She said she comes in and out of the city sometimes.”

“And you picked her up and brought her home?”

“Something scared us, so we needed to get out of there.”

“Something?”

“We can’t remember what it was.”

He rubbed his jawline. “Something scared you, and you didn’t consider that it might be the three-foot ghost crawling up your leg?”

“It wasn’t her. We couldn’t remember because we were dealing with the tree bark that goes into Thymoserum. Forget-me trees, Duvall said. They botch your memory.”

Chase suspected there was more to the story. “What is she?”

“Skye called her a Lost One. Duvall called her Rae.”

Rae stretched out her legs on Alex’s bed, her bare feet overlapping one another. She clasped her hands on her lap. The more lovable she appeared, the more concerned Chase became. She had baggage with her, unhappy blue circles around her heart. She brought her pain and suffering, and it was ruining Alex’s room.

“What the hell is a Lost One?”

Alex retracted in response to his tone. “Duvall said children this young are considered lost because they never stay in one place for very long.”

“Didn’t Ellington tell us that the little ones couldn’t control their emotions?”

“Duvall said she’s old. She’s had plenty of time to tame her feelings.”

“She’s been here before?”

“Yeah. She wanders around the woods or sticks to the ABC room, but apparently she likes me. Are you okay if she stays here?”

No
. “It isn’t up to me.”

“Of course it is.”

“We’re two different people, Alex.”

“I want to know what you think.”

“I think you’ll get attached. And then she’ll leave.”

And I’ll have to feel your heart break.

Maybe it stemmed from the way her father treated her when she was alive, but Alex took in strays like an old lady, the kind with five hundred cats. One time, a beagle puppy found its way into the Lasalles’ yard, and when the owner came looking for it, Alex howled in agony and cried for an entire week. He didn’t understand how someone could have so many tears. Through broken bones and dislocated joints, he rarely saw her cry. Her body must have kept all those tears bottled up inside, waiting for something ridiculous like this. Because of Alex’s reaction, Chase’s mother nearly broke down and bought Alex a dog—even though his mother was allergic—just because Alex was so inconsolable. What would happen when this child left?

“Do you have to take care of her?”

Alex fiddled with her fingers. “She usually lives on her own, Chase. She doesn’t need anyone to care for her. She followed me. That’s all.”

He sat down in the armchair and hunched forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “What else did Duvall tell you?”

He realized he was speaking in a very cautious tone, walking on eggshells, his mother used to say. Those eggshells crackled loudly enough for Alex to hear.

She took a step away from him and closer to the kid. “They’re rare. Children this young don’t usually end up here.”

“In Eidolon?”

“In the afterworld. They pick the bright light instead.”

Rae shifted to sit on her heels, her hands still clasped in her lap as though she was praying. The innocence of it made Chase wonder why the world would punish a child so young.

Alex gasped. “You think this is punishment? Being here?”

Damn
, his thoughts must have filtered into her head. Chase held up his hands in defense. “See. That’s why you need to stay out of my mind unless you’re invited. Knock first. That’s not what I meant at all. This life is obviously not a punishment for me.”