The Girl and The Raven (22 page)

“Jack Callow? Yeah, I know him.” He sounds grim and curious at the same time. “Last year, he put a kid in the hospital. He was supposed to be expelled, but a week later he was back at school.”

I swallow hard. “Jack and his buddies came up to me at lunch the other day, asking about you. And not in a friendly way.”

“Holy crap!” The fear in his voice is unmistakable. “I’ve never done anything to piss those guys off. That would be suicidal!”

“I…I shouldn’t have told you.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just one more thing to add to the heap. You know?”

“Have you talked to your dad again about Jude?”

“I will tomorrow. I’m going to make him tell me the truth.”

“Let me know what he says. Okay?”

“Yeah. Well, I should let you get back to sleep.” I hear the reluctance in his voice.

“Text me if something comes up. Okay?” I pause and suddenly grip the phone. “Dylan, promise me you’ll stay in touch. Don’t wait so long to call me.” I’m afraid. Jack and his thug friends are after him, but I don’t know why.

“Sure,” Dylan says.

My dreams are disturbing. First, Dylan lays in a hospital bed while Jack and his two thug friends lean over him, leering like a pack of wolves over a fresh kill. Then Marcus, saving me as I fall in slow motion off the roof. Finally, I dream that Jude stands in my bedroom, watching over me as I sleep. There is a look on his face, that look of love I’ve seen before, as one lone blood-red tear slides down his cheek.

It’s been nearly a week since my late night conversation with Dylan. So much for his promise. Is he blowing me off, or did something else happen? Mrs. Douglas called and cancelled work last Saturday, so I wasn’t able to get any information from Arnold, Charlene or the kids. I can’t shake the image of Dylan in the back seat of the Town Car, his face a mask of fear, or the sound of his voice when he called from the hospital. I’m so freaked out that Sheldon offers to let me stay home from school. But falling behind won’t make my life any better, so I turn him down.

In English, Mr. Hatcher announces we will start reading The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger within the next two weeks and we need to go out and buy the book. I’m disappointed, since I read it last year and it’s not my favorite Salinger book.

By the time lunch comes around, I check my cell phone for messages as I pretend to be interested in yet another conversation about Homecoming. The committee’s chosen theme is Mardi Gras. Caroline, Ella, Suzy, Katie and Cloe go on and on about the color scheme of green, gold and purple, discussing how best to convince all attendees to wear masks, how much it would cost to buy enough beaded necklaces for every student, and whether there’s enough money in the committee budget to hire a band instead of a DJ. I wish I could get more excited about it. Ella changes the subject to dresses and wants to know how soon we can all go shopping together. I flinch at their shrieks and giggles. Although I’m sitting among them in a crowded cafeteria, I feel strangely alone.

I spot Jack and his two friends sitting five tables away. Jack’s focused on his cell phone. As if sensing that I’m watching him, he looks right at me. When he smiles, his mouth looks like a horrible gash across his face. I nod at him in return. Maybe I can use his help after all.

“Lucy? Hello?” Cloe and Caroline say in unison, waving their hands at me.

“What? Sorry.”

“What’s with you?” Ella snaps.

“Leave her alone.” Katie pushes back, then asks me. “Have you heard anything from him?”

I shake my head. “I’m going to see if I can get a ride from Sheldon or Marcus and visit him at the hospital after school.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, but thanks.”

“What’s with your fixation, Lucy?” Ella asks, a hard edge to her voice. “I thought you hated Dylan. Now all of a sudden you’re fawning all over him?”

“I’m not fawning all over him.” I glare at her. As I finish my lunch, I notice Ella is no longer participating in the Homecoming discussion. She nods periodically when someone asks her a question. Otherwise, her eyes are focused on me. I suddenly feel afraid of her.

* * * *

Marcus offers to take me to the hospital. On the drive over, I describe last night’s dream—the one involving Dylan. He nods, but says nothing. He’s distracted, only half paying attention, which isn’t like him at all.

I inform the elderly black woman behind the hospital’s front desk that we’re there to visit Dylan Douglas. After typing something into her computer, she offers a sympathetic smile and informs us Dylan is only allowed visits from family.

“He’s my stepbrother,” I quickly manufacture. “Alana Douglas is my mother.”

“Okay.” She fills out a sticker with my name and hands me a form attached to a clipboard to sign. “You can go in, but your friend will have to stay here in the lobby. Dylan has been moved to intensive care.”

“Thank you.” I hope she misses the quiver in my voice. Intensive care? The fear in my belly grows as the receptionist gives me directions.

“I’ll wait here for you.” Marcus squeezes my hand.

Inside the elevator, I flash back to my dream, seeing Dylan in his hospital bed, looking near death. Jack and his friends leering over him. I suppress a shudder.

Exiting the elevator, I follow the signs to the left and down the corridor, to a counter manned by a nurse. I tell her I’m there to see Dylan.

She looks at me and then my nametag. “You can go in.”

“Thanks.” I pause. “Has Dylan’s dad visited today?”

She checks her computer. “He hasn’t.” Her brows crease as she continues to stare at the screen. “It doesn’t appear that Mr. Douglas has been in to see Dylan at all.”

I am momentarily stunned, then the anger starts to boil inside of me.

“Thank you,” I say stiffly.

I approach Dylan’s room and take a deep breath before walking inside. His short dark hair lays matted against his head. His complexion is pale and based on his sunken cheeks, he’s lost weight. The dynamic, cocky Dylan I knew is not the same person lying in this bed. He’s so still. Frail. My stomach churns violently as it hits me. He looks like Momma the night she died.

I lower myself onto the chair next to his bed. I wonder if the doctors administering all those tests have turned up anything.
Doubtful, unless they’re looking for magic spells
a voice inside me whispers.

I lean forward and take his hand in both of mine. “Dylan? It’s me, Lucy. Tennessee. Can you hear me?”

He doesn’t move, not even a twitch or a blink. I wait for him to grip my hand. He doesn’t.

“Don’t you dare give up, Dylan,” I order. “I’m going to get you out of here. I’m working on a plan, but you have to hang on. You have to be strong.
Please
.”

I jump and turn as someone enters the room.

“Sorry, hon. Didn’t mean to startle you,” says a black-haired girl in a nurse’s uniform. She doesn’t look much older than me. “It’s shift change and I need to take his vitals.”

I watch as she presses buttons on the monitor mounted on a long pole next to his bed, numbers displaying his heart rate, blood pressure and some other numbers I don’t understand. Then she moves to the IV mounted on another pole and checks the status of two bags of liquid, tubes running from the bags to Dylan arm.

“How he’s doing?” I ask.

She flips it open and reviews it, her finger trailing down the page.

“Well, he had a series of seizures and they were getting progressively stronger.” She eyes me warily. “He slipped into a coma today. You know about that, don’t you?”

I swallow and nod absently, no longer caring if I looked believable.

She smiles sympathetically. “The doctors are running more tests. Hopefully, they’ll have more information tomorrow.”

I turn away from her and blink back tears. I stay for half an hour after the nurse leaves, holding Dylan’s hand and telling him about school and Homecoming.

When I return to the lobby, Marcus walks over and takes my hand, leading me to the exit and outside.

“It’s bad,” he guesses once we’re in the car.

“Yes.” I look out the passenger window, trying to relax my tight, burning throat. I’m sure Jude made this happen. He’s torturing Dylan. The question is…why?

* * * *

After lunch the next day, I tell Katie to go ahead without me so I can make a call before next period. She casts a sympathetic glance my way, no doubt assuming I’m going to call Dylan, and tells me she’ll meet me after school. I fidget with my phone until they all leave. Then I walk over to where Jack, Matt and Troy are sitting, clearly in no hurry to get to class.

“Hi Jack.”

He tears his attention away from the poker game he’s playing on his phone and gives me that creepy smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I show him my bravest face. “You told me if I need anything I should come to you.”

“I did.” His smile grows wider. He looks positively predatory. “Name it. Anything.”

“First, I’d like you to tell Jude that I want to meet with him,” I say, ticking it off on my finger. “And second, I want you, Matt and Troy to leave Dylan alone. Don’t talk to him. Don’t look at him. Don’t go anywhere near him.”

Jack watches me without saying a word.

“Tell Jude I’d like to meet with him on Friday night at the same place.” I stare at him coldly. “He’ll know what that means.”

I turn on my heel and leave the cafeteria, my footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent room.

After I get home from school, I pull Mr. Douglas’ business card from my purse and call him. His secretary tells me he’s tied up in client meetings for the rest of the afternoon. I leave a message for him to call me. I’m guessing Dylan never got a chance to talk to his dad about Jude, so I’ll do it for him.

On Wednesday evening I call Mr. Douglas again. Jeanne, his secretary, tells me he’s deep in meetings and won’t be able to talk to me.
Again
. I ask Jeanne to let him know I can’t make it on Saturday to watch his kids. She takes my message and promises to give it to him.

Within thirty minutes, my phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Lucy, it’s Pierce Douglas. Jeanne informs me you can’t make it on Saturday. What’s going on? Mrs. Douglas is counting on you.” I can hear the strain in his voice and wonder if it has to do with his sudden childcare crisis, or if he’s worried about Dylan, and if he knows Jude. I’m tempted to throw back at him the fact that Mrs. Douglas cancelled work last weekend, but I don’t.

I take a deep breath. “Mr. Douglas, I’d like to talk with you tomorrow after school about Dylan and Jude Morgan. We can talk here or at St. Aquinas. You should know, though, that Jude likes to hang out here sometimes, in the apartment upstairs, in case that matters to you.”

“Lucy, I don’t have time for this.” His voice is low and sharp.

Be brave.
“If you don’t meet with me, then I’m done working for you. You can explain to Mrs. Douglas and the kids why I’m not coming back.”

“I don’t like what you’re pulling here.” He’s done being annoyed. Now he’s downright angry.

“And I don’t like what you’re pulling, either.” Oh crap. I’m scolding my employer. I’ll be out of a job as soon as they can find a replacement.

I hear his sharp intake of breath over the phone. “Fine. Tomorrow. At St. Aquinas.”

“Great. I’ll meet you in the parking lot at four o’clock.”

“Goodbye, Lucy.” The line goes dead before I can respond.

Next I call Marcus.

“Lucy.” I melt at the sound of his voice. I think it’s what I like best about him. Then I think about his kiss and have to reconsider. “How are you?”

I cut to the chase. “I’m meeting with Mr. Douglas tomorrow after school at four o’clock. If you feel like sitting in the parking lot to make sure he doesn’t break my neck or anything, that’d be great. Oh, and maybe you can drive me home afterwards?”

“What are you up to?” I hear the panic in his voice.

“I’m searching for the truth, Marcus.” I end the call before he can try and talk me out of it.

Next I send a text to Dylan.

Hang in there my friend. 

After finishing my homework, I get ready for bed. The conversation with Mr. Douglas has me all wound up. What kind of father doesn’t go see his son in the hospital? Dylan needs him right now. I can still hear the beep of the machines. I shiver. All those seizures. In a coma. I need to stop Jude before this goes any further.

Something hits my window. I listen, holding my breath. There it is again. A chill races down my body. Images of Seamus flash through my thoughts. Climbing out of bed, I tiptoe over to the window and peek out. Marcus stands in the yard. I open the window, exhaling a sigh of relief.