Entangled (23 page)

Gray wasn’t angry anymore. She was beyond angry. Just wait till Charlene woke up the next day with a nose ring or “Blake’s a dick” tattoo. Gray could make threats, too. She could threaten to break up with Blake and start going out with pimple-faced Bobby Phelps. If Charlene wanted to take away her clothes, Gray could show up to school naked. It wasn’t like anyone would know it was her, except Raj and Nolan.

Gray’s cheeks heated, but luckily Raj’s attention was diverted by the clothing raid that had taken place inside her room.

“What’s in the drawer?” Raj nodded toward the one drawer Gray had kept closed.

She rolled her eyes. “Charlene left me my socks and underwear. Apparently she’d rather not share those items even though this is technically her body.”

Raj stared at the drawer a moment longer. “Why would she do this?”

“Probably ’cause I slapped her boyfriend upside the head.” Gray’s lips quivered when she caught Raj’s blossoming smile. Finally she couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst into peals of laughter.

Raj laughed beside her. It felt good, like connecting somehow.

“I’m sure he deserved it,” Raj said once he’d regained his breath.

“Oh, he did.”

Raj’s lingering smile sent shivers straight down to Gray’s toes. She moved away and looked at her digital alarm clock. “Right,” she said. “So are you feeling all rested, refreshed, and ready to go invisible?”

Raj frowned. “I can’t concentrate in here. There’s too much bad energy lingering.”

“Oh, right, Charlene,” Gray said, rolling her eyes skyward. “We’ll go outside. Obviously her room would be a thousand times worse.”

“We should probably stand behind the tree so we don’t freak my neighbors out,” Gray said once they stepped into the front yard. “Unless you know how to do a mind erase?”

“Nope,” Raj said. “Not one of the tricks I have up my sleeve.”

“Dang, I haven’t met anyone who can do one of those.”

“Or maybe you just don’t remember.”

Gray tilted her head to look at Raj and then laughed.

Raj clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “All right, so operation Etch A Sketch.” He jerked his head side to side. “Did I do it? Am I invisible?”

Clearly, from his smile, he knew he wasn’t.

“Maybe we should start with an object. Hand me your lighter.”

Raj just looked at Gray’s outstretched hand.

“Give it.”

He sighed and slowly pulled the Zippo out of his pocket. Gray nabbed it from him then held the lighter between her thumb and pointer in front of her face. “Now you see it… now you don’t. Now you see it again. You try.”

Raj held his hand out for the return of his lighter. Gray glanced at the Zippo between her fingers and smiled. “Let’s give you a little incentive. I’ll keep your lighter until you can make it go invisible.”

“Hand it over,” Raj said.

“Giving up already?” Gray tossed the lighter in the air and reached out her hand to catch it. When it landed in her palm, a dull ache traveled up her arm and burned at her shoulder. The Zippo felt as though it was about to scorch the skin around her palm even though the cap was snapped shut. She handed it back to Raj. “Take it.”

“What’s the matter?” Raj asked, studying her face.

Gray was frowning. “You shouldn’t be carrying that object around.”

Raj flicked it open and closed. “Why not?”

Gray kept frowning, trying to read the expression on his face. A dull throb still lingered in her arm as though it had been used to cushion a blow to the pavement.

Raj took a step closer. His face was contorted, angry. “Afraid I’ll burn down another house?”

“I’m afraid that thing is killing you!” Gray hadn’t meant to scream.

Raj’s eyes widened briefly and then his entire face dropped. Even his cheeks seemed to sink into his face.

Gray didn’t like where this was going. “Keep the damn thing for all I care.” She avoided eye contact as she bit out the words. “Let’s just get back to the spell before my mom returns and I have to go. I thought you wanted to be invisible.”

“I do,” Raj replied calmly.

“Then concentrate! You have to want it.”

Raj squeezed his eyes shut. Gray’s breath caught. An image sprang into her mind of Raj holding her, kissing her like mad. She took a step back. His hands caressed her shoulders. They moved down her back. She tilted her head back, exposing her neck to a trail of kisses, and then tilted her chin and opened her lips to allow Raj’s tongue inside her mouth.

Gray sucked in a quick breath, hoping the projection hadn’t reached Raj. Her heart was hammering wildly inside her chest. It felt like a hundred drumbeats pulsing in front of a blazing bonfire.

Raj opened his eyes and stared directly at her.

Gray felt the blush high in her cheekbones. She pressed her lips together and shrugged. Raj’s face darkened and he took a step toward her.

“What are you doing?” she asked in alarm. “Are you inside my head?”

“No,” he said. “You’re inside mine.”

Gray felt her cheeks turn to flames. “Stop thinking those thoughts.”

“Maybe you should get out of my head.”

“I can’t.” Gray choked. She began to flail around and gasp for air. If she died suddenly would Charlene die, too? It wasn’t entirely out of the question to drop dead in her front yard. It’d happened to Gray in her own bedroom.

This time there was someone around to resuscitate her. Was that why Raj’s lips were over hers?

Gray grabbed Raj by the shirt and kissed him roughly back. Where did that come from? Maybe Charlene’s body instinctively knew what to do because it certainly couldn’t be Gray wrapping her hands around the back of Raj’s neck pulling him closer.

It wasn’t helping matters that Raj returned her kisses and caresses as though without them he’d perish.

Gray pulled Raj with her as she backed up to the tree. She braced her back against the trunk and pulled herself against Raj, wrapping her legs around his torso.

As soon as Gray’s thighs squeezed against Raj he began to kiss her in the most alarming way. Alarming because Gray was certain nothing had ever felt this good before. She squeezed her legs so tight around Raj she could have very well begun cutting off his circulation.

Raj tightened his own grip on her and pulled her to him as she was pulling him.

Gray broke off their kiss for only a moment, only to gasp.

Raj pressed her into the tree and kissed her roughly. Gray closed her eyes.

Angry tires screeched and then sped up. Gray’s eyes flew open, but all she saw was an empty road.

Gray’s legs dropped back to earth and she pushed Raj away. “You have to go!”

Raj’s face fell. “Why?”

“You just do.”

“But what about the muffins?”

“You can’t be here!” Gray cried. “Please.”

The skin around Raj’s eyes wrinkled. “Gray, I didn’t mean to…”

“Just go,” Gray said. “I’ll call you later.”

Gray paced the driveway. She’d eaten two muffins without really tasting them and become edgier the later it got. Finally, at ten forty-five, she’d stepped outside to wait for Nolan. They had a ways to drive if they wanted to see this warlock and get back by dinner.

On one hand, she’d rather be with Raj; on the other, she needed her body and twenty-four-hour access to it. How was she supposed to even entertain the idea of dating a guy when she went off to la-la land every other day?

Gray walked through the grass to the one tree in their yard and leaned against it. She closed her eyes. Focus, Gray. Not the time to daydream about mind-blowing kisses.

What was taking Nolan so long?

Finally, Gray couldn’t take it any longer and went inside to call him. “Hi, Mrs. Knapp? This is… Charlene Perez. Is Nolan there?”

“Oh, Charlene.” Mrs. Knapp’s voice rose. “How are you, my dear? We miss seeing you at Gathering.”

“Um, thanks.”

“Let me see. Nolan left early this morning. I know he had a lot of homework to do at the library. Those teachers are always making everything due at the same time. I’m sure you know how it is?”

“Yeah,” Gray answered feebly.
Where the hell was Nolan?
“Well, thanks for checking, Mrs. Knapp. Can you let him know I called?”

“Certainly, dear.”

Once Gray accepted the fact that Nolan had stood her up, she drove to the hospital to visit Stacey.

Why Gray felt this sudden empathy for Stacey Morehouse was beyond her. Perhaps their balancing act on the tightrope between life and death was their shared bond. What had Stacey’s last moments of consciousness been like? What could she tell Gray if she were to suddenly awaken?

When Gray walked into her room, a physical therapist was in the middle of massaging Stacey’s arm.  “That a girl,” the therapist said. “We want you to be nice and strong when you wake up.” She moved to her other side. “Your father tells me you play softball every spring, and honey, spring’s coming.”

Gray shut her eyes gently. The therapist’s soothing voice continued. She could picture everything the woman did just by her descriptions.

“Now we’re going to move these long, lovely legs of yours. Think how wonderful it’ll be to walk again.”

Gray tried to imagine that in addition to being invisible she was weightless. She tried to imaging floating away from the room, away from the voice, the pain. Was that what a coma was like? Or was it like the days she didn’t exist—when even the comforting voices of loved ones couldn’t reach her?

She no longer had a body to return to. This replica of herself might appear similar, but it wasn’t hers. It didn’t bear the scar below her left knee when she’d fallen out of a tree at age ten just before her father died. He’d fussed over the wound and said he’d fix it. Gray had known he had the power to make it disappear forever. “No, Daddy, leave it,” she’d said.

“Why, baby?”

“Because it is a part of me now.”

He’d kissed her head gently and said, “You are wise beyond your years, Graylee girl.”

Gray opened her eyes and tears spilled out. They appeared on the floor in wet splashes—transparent yet totally visible.

Gray looked at Stacey lying unconscious on the bed. She was breathing. She still had a chance.

How long had Gray been lying in her bed—a lifeless corpse? Nearly four hours.

Gray choked back a sob.

The therapist stilled and leaned over Stacey. The room had gone too silent for Gray to risk walking out, but she couldn’t help it. She rushed out of the room and down the hallway as though spirits were after her. She would have left altogether if she hadn’t heard the receptionist speak as she passed.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Morehouse. I’ll page Dr. Conway and let him know you’re in Stacey’s room.”

Gray pivoted and followed on the heels of Stacey’s father.

“Hello, Mr. Morehouse, we just finished Stacey’s exercises,” the therapist said when he walked in.

So far all Gray had seen of Stacey’s father was his back. He wore no overcoat, only a dark suit jacket that exactly matched his pants. “How is she today?” Mr. Morehouse’s tone was businesslike—lawyerly.

“Her body is healthy and strong,” the therapist answered. “It won’t take her long to regain her full strength once she wakes up.”

Gray wondered how much Mr. Morehouse paid the therapist to say that. Like the patchwork quilt and curtains, the therapist didn’t look hospital issued.

He nodded. “Thank you, Shannon. You may go now.”

“Sir...” Shannon hesitated.

He must have given her a look for she continued. “I thought I heard your daughter sob earlier.”

“When?”

“Not more than five minutes ago. Right before you came in.”

Mr. Morehouse took two large footsteps to the side of the hospital bed. “Stacey? Baby girl?”

Oh, god, Gray was going to hell. Except there was no hell so maybe she was okay.

When there was no answer or movement, the therapist grimaced. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Morehouse. I shouldn’t have mentioned anything.”

“No, you were right to. Stacey’s a fighter. I know she’s trying to come back to me and probably frustrated as hell. But she’ll make it. All in good time. We won’t rush her.”

The therapist nodded. “I’ll leave you two alone.” Gray didn’t get a chance to intrude further on Mr. Morehouse’s private moment when the doctor walked in.

“Hello, Mr. Morehouse,” the doctor said, sounding as brisk and businesslike as the attorney.

“Dr. Conway.”

Gray quickly moved to the side before Mr. Morehouse had a chance to run into her.

“Level with me, Doctor. How is Stacey doing?”

The doctor took a stance several feet from the bed. “If I may say so, Mr. Morehouse, at this point we aren’t prolonging life. We’re prolonging death.”