I shake my head, still unable to speak.
But he just shrugs, not the least bit daunted by my refusal to play. "I'm pretty good at chants if I do say so myself-pretty good at rapping too for that matter-wanna hear one?"
I close my eyes, wishing he'd move on.
"Wise decision." He smiles, oblivious to what I'm going through. Pretending to wipe the imaginary sweat from his brow with his heavily bandaged hand, which only reminds me of that ride he asked me about.
I rise, expecting him to follow, but he just continues to sit there, staring at me in a way so intense, so insistent I can't help but croak, "What? What is it? Is Riley here?"
He shakes his head, swinging his dreadlocks off his shoulders and onto his back as those brilliant blue-green eyes pull down at the sides. "Haven't seen her in a while," he says, head tilted, gaze focused on mine. "I admit, I try from time to time, but I always come up empty." He shrugs. "I guess she just doesn't want to be reached right now."
I scrunch my brow, not sure I agree. Riley's sent me enough cryptic messages lately to make me highly doubt that, to make me feel like she does want to be reached.
"Do you think that maybe-" I pause, not wanting to sound ridiculous, but then deciding not to care. I've already looked plenty ridiculous in front of Jude, so what's one more time?
"Do you think that maybe it's not that she doesn't want to come through but that she can't come through?" He looks at me, about to speak when I lift my finger and say, "And I don't mean can't as in not able or can't find a way to manage it, but more like, I don't know, like, maybe she's not allowed to come through? Maybe someone or something is stopping her?"
"Could be." He shrugs, his shoulders rising and falling so casually, so easily I'm not sure if he really does agree or if he's just humoring me. Wanting to spare my feelings from the cold, hard, unavoidable fact that my ghostly little sister has given up on me-that she's too busy with her afterlife activities to come out and play. "Has she shown up in any more dreams?" he adds, voice more than inquisitive, bordering on hopeful.
"No," I say, without a hint of hesitation, not wanting to think about that disturbing dream that I had where Damen was trapped behind glass and Riley stood off to the side, urging me to pay attention, to not look away.
"Wanna try to reach her now?" He looks at me, head cocked to the side.
But I just shake my head and sigh. I mean, sure I'd like to reach her-I'd like that very much. Who wouldn't want a visit from their adorably feisty, dead little sister? But when I think about the state that I'm in, there's no way I can do it. Even if she could help in some way, which I seriously doubt, but still, even if she could, I can't stand for her to see me like this. I don't want her to know what I've done. What I've become.
"I'm-I'm not really up for all that right now," I say, clearing my throat.
Jude leans back in his chair, foot propped on his knee, gaze unrelenting, never once straying from mine. "What exactly are you up for?" he asks, forehead scrunched as though he's truly concerned. "All you seem to do these days is work." He drops his foot on the floor and leans toward me, anchoring his bandaged arms on the desk when he adds, "Do you even realize it's summer out there? Summer in Laguna Beach! Half the population dreams of a sweet gig like that and you've barely taken notice. Believe me, if I weren't so banged up, I'd be out there surfing and enjoying every spare moment I could get. Not to mention, and correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't this your first summer here?"
I take a deep breath, remembering how last summer found me injured, hospitalized, newly orphaned, and burdened with psychic powers I couldn't bear, naively thinking that's as bad and weird as things could ever possibly get. Hardly able to believe it's already been a year since my entire life changed.
"I can handle the store. Hell, I can even get myself to the doctor, who cares if I'm late? But please, do yourself a favor and take a break. There's a whole world out there just waiting to be explored and with all the time you spend here indoors-well, it's not healthy."
I stand before him, a mess of shaking hands, trembling body, and ragged breath-a walking billboard for unhealthy living, desperately scoping the room for the first available exit.
"Ever? You okay?" He leans toward me.
I shake my head, unable to answer, unable to speak.
Roman is out there. I can feel him drawing near. Having just left the store and wandering the village streets, headed right in my vicinity. And I know it's just a matter of time, maybe another minute, two at the most, and the old me will be gone, completely succumbed to the monster within.
I grip the edge of the desk, knuckles protruding, bony and white, fighting to steady myself, horrified at being seen like this, and needing to get away before it's too late-Slipping around the desk so quickly I'm at Jude's side well before he can blink. My fingers clutching the graying white plaster that circles his arm, having no choice but to say, "If you want me to take you, we need to go now-it can't wait!"
He struggles to stand, a worried expression marring his face as he looks me over and says, "Ever, no offense, but I'm not sure I want to get in the car with you. You seem a little-unhinged-to say the least." He rubs his lips together and shakes his head, leveling those sea-green eyes right on mine in an attempt to connect, but it's no use. I'm lost, drowning, almost gone- "Seriously, I think you should step outside, get some fresh air, and take some deep breaths-really, you'll be amazed how much better you'll feel."
And as nice as that sounds, as well-meaning as he is, I know better. Outside is the last place I should be. That's where Roman is, drawing closer, closer by the second. Besides, that wasn't exactly what I meant when I said we should go. And even though I haven't really stopped to think it through, haven't really considered the full list of pros and cons since I first got the idea a few days ago, there's no time to waste, we're going, the two of us, because no matter what happens there, staying here will be worse.
With my heart crashing, my pulse thrumming, and Roman drawing insistently near-I grip Jude's cast tighter, hoping against hope I can still pull this off now that everything else has failed me.
Hoping I can still reach the one and only place where I'm still me.
Taking in his alarmed, perplexed gaze and knowing if I don't do this quick, it'll be too late for me.
Too late for all of us.
I'll be with Roman.
The dark magick will win.
Voice shaky and unsteady as I say, "I know this sounds crazy, but I need you to close your eyes and imagine a portal of shimmering gold light right before you. Concentrate with all your might, and don't ask any questions. Just trust me on this."
We stumble through the portal, the two of us, side by side, landing on that wonderfully buoyant grass before springing lightly to our feet. And the first thing I do is turn toward Jude, motioning to his arms when I say, "Look!"
He gazes down, eyes going wide as he glances between his bare arms and me, not quite comprehending.
"Surely during the course of your metaphysical studies you came across a mention of Summerland?" I smile, my face and shoulders lifting-everything lifting-freed from the monster within me-no matter how temporary.
He glances around, peering through the hazy, shimmering mist at the shivering trees, branches hanging heavy with ripe juicy fruit, the large colorful flowers with pulsating petals, and the quickly flowing rainbow-colored stream just beyond. "This is it?" he asks, face stamped with awe. "It really exists?"
I nod, any apprehension I had at bringing him here suddenly gone. Just because it was a bad idea to drag Ava along, doesn't mean the same thing will happen with Jude. They're totally different. He's different. Way more evolved than Ava could ever hope to be.
"Why did I bring you here?" I laugh, instantly reading the question he posed but hadn't yet voiced. Sending the answer telepathically when I think: In order to heal you, of course!
Careful to edit the other, more pressing reason, which is so that I could heal myself.
Thoughts are energy, I add, seeing the surprised look on his face. You can sense them, hear them, even create with them. But if you'd rather we return to the hospital, then I'll be happy to make the portal again-He looks at me, about to speak when he changes his mind and thinks it instead. At first closing his eyes as though trying to concentrate, but soon realizing just how effortless and easy everything is, he looks right at me and allows the words to flow straight to my head: I can't believe you waited this long to bring me here. I can't believe you let me suffer like that!
I laugh, nodding in agreement and knowing the best way to make up for it is to show him just what else is possible here.
"Close your eyes," I say, watching as he obeys without hesitation, his trust in me so complete, I can't help but flush.
"Now think of anything you want-anything at all-and make sure you really do want it, because in an instant, it'll be yours-ready?
And I've barely had a chance to finish before I'm sitting on a pink sand beach, watching as he paddles out in an ocean comprised of the most beautiful blue water and surfing a series of the most perfect waves.
"Did you see those barrels?" he calls, board tucked under his arm as he makes his way in. "Amazing! You sure I'm not dreaming?"
I smile, remembering my first trip to Summerland and how enchanted I was. And no matter how many times I return, the magick of manifesting on such a grand scale never gets old.
"It's no dream." I smile, seeing the way his dreads drip trails of salt water clear down his chest and into the low-slung waistband of his black and gray board shorts. Suddenly overcome by that calm languid feeling his proximity brings, and quickly averting my gaze when I say, "Trust me, it's much better than a dream." Thinking how lately, most of my dreams have become nightmares.
So, what's next? He drops his board on the sand and looks at me.
I shrug. It's your moment, so it's really up to you. Whatever you want to try next is fine by me. Trying to appear helpful, supportive, when the truth is, the longer he stays, the longer I have an excuse to avoid the earth plane where all of my troubles lay in wait.
He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, making the board and the beach disappear in favor of the Indy 500 racetrack. Navigating the course at near death-defying speeds as I sit high in the stands, egging him on. And just when I'm sure I can't take another monotonous lap, he switches the scene to a charming cafe in the Sydney harbor, with a first-class view of the bridge, the water, and the opera house beyond.