Guardian (The Guardian Trilogy) (5 page)

She
starts laughing.  “Come on!  I think they ran around back!”

We pass
by the porch and Shel picks up a few more eggs.  “Stupid of them to leave them
out like this.”

We head
around the back of the house and crouch by the deck.

“Shhh,”
I whisper to Shel.

We hear
the patio door slide open.  “They’ve got to be out front,” I hear James
whisper.  “You head around that way and I’ll go around the other way,” he says.

Shel
and I look at each other.  The boys have to come off the deck to go around the
house; they will walk right past us.  Shel nods at me and mouths “1…2...3!”

We jump
up at the same time and start throwing our eggs.

“Take
that!” Shel yells.

“Hey! 
Ahhh!”

“Split
up!”

James
and Matt take off in different directions while trying to block our shots. 
James leaps over the railing of the deck and takes off toward the side yard;
Matt has no choice but to take the steps and run right past us.

One of
my eggs makes perfect contact with his temple.  I bust out into hysterical
laughter and shout, “Payback!” then take off running in the opposite direction.

Shel
must have followed me because we end up together behind the shed.  “Now what?”
I ask her.  “We’re out of ammo.”

“Temporarily,”
she says.  She nods to the left and I see the hose reel connected to the side
of the house.  “You go and man the hose.  I’ll flush them out.”  She flashes an
evil smile.

I nod
and take off for the side of the house.  When I reach the hose, I unroll it a
bit so I have some slack to work with.  I turn on the faucet, grip the nozzle,
and stand pressing my back against the siding.  I whisper to Shel, “Ready!”

Shel
takes off around the front of the house.  It’s not long before I hear “There
she is!  Get her!”  Running and laughter ensue, headed my direction.  Shel runs
past me and shouts, “Now!”

I step
away from the house and squeeze the nozzle of the hose as far as it will go.  A
concentrated stream of water sprays out and nails James right in the face as he
runs up on me.

“Arrggh!”

“Gotcha!”
I yell as he sputters and tries to block my shot.  I drop the hose and take off
running.  I catch a glimpse of Matt chasing Shel around the side of the house
again, so I decide to take off deeper into the back yard.  I hear footsteps
behind me, chasing me.  I can’t see any good place to hide and I’m started to
get winded.  He’s going to catch me!
 
I have no idea how far behind he
is, so I make a wide turn and attempt to head back near the house when I feel a
hand brush against my shoulder trying to grab my shirt.  “AHH!” I scream.

“Come
here!” James shouts, laughing.

I keep
running toward the house.  Maybe I can make it around the front and hide by the
porch to grab more eggs.  I can’t hear James behind me anymore, but it’s highly
unlikely that he’s given up.  I’m almost there.  I round the corner of the
house to the front yard when, out of nowhere, I’m met with a handful of shaving
cream to my face.

“Ahhh!”
I yell as I’m knocked off balance.  I recover nicely though and wipe away
enough of the foam to see Matt standing there, covered nearly head to toe with the
stuff.  Shel’s standing next to him, just as covered.  Both of them are
laughing hysterically, gripping their sides.  They must have had one heck of a
shaving cream fight with the cream Shel used on James’ windshield.

“Gotcha!”
James runs up and surprises me from behind.  He swoops me up with one arm
around my waist.  I struggle against him.  “Now what are you going to do?” he
laughs.

“Get
you with the hose again!”

“Oh no
you’re not!”

“Once I
get out of here, you’re done!” I tease.

“Not
gonna happen!”

I
continue to push against his arm, trying to break free.  “Put me down!”

He
laughs.

“Hey
guys,” Shel calls to us.  “I’m sticky.  And hungry.”

“Same
here,” Matt says, shaking shaving cream off his fingers.  “Let’s clean up and
get something to eat.”

“Will
you behave if I put you down?” James asks me.

“Of
course,” I say sweetly.  “But I win.”

“What? 
You so did not win.”

“I did too. 
You have to admit that was an excellent shot with the hose.”

“I will
give you that,” he says as he releases me.  “But you fell right into my trap.  Who
do you think told us you’d be coming here tonight?”

“Zach!”

He
grins.  “Matt and I were prepared for you all along.  You should have just
waited to jump us at your house later.”

“Ugh!” 
I punch him in the arm.

He
looks up at my handiwork with the toilet paper in the trees.  “What a waste of
perfectly good toilet paper,” he snickers.

I pull
a glop of egg off his shirt.  “What a waste of perfectly good eggs,” I mimic
him and smash the yolk on his cheek, dragging my hand down the side of his face
and rubbing it in.

“You are
going to pay for that!” he says angrily but his eyes light up.

I start
to giggle as I back away from him with my hands held out in front of me.  “What
are you going to do?”

“You’d
better run,” he threatens.

“I’m
not scared of you,” I boast.

In one
quick movement he charges at me, grabs the top of my legs, and throws me over
his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.  “I warned you!”

“Shelby! 
Matt!  Help!” I yell at the ground and kick my legs as he starts to carry me
behind the house.  I look over near the porch where they had been standing, but
they are gone.  They must have gone inside while we debated who the winner was.

“Where
are you taking me?”

“You’ll
see.”

We’re
coming up on the hose.  “Oh no!  Not the hose!  I’m already enough of a mess as
it is!” I yelp.

With me
still hoisted over his shoulder, he bends down to make sure the hose is still
turned on.  He grabs the nozzle.  “I think you have something on your face,” he
laughs.  “Looks like shaving cream.  Let me get that for you.”

 “No! 
No!  Okay!  You win!” I protest.

“Um, I
think it’s too late for that.”  He reaches behind his back with the hand that
holds the hose and it points directly at my inverted head.

“Please
don’t!” I shield my face with my hands.  This is going to be cold!  I let out a
small “eeek!”

He
laughs and drops the hose, then puts me down so I’m standing in front of him. 
“Do you really think I’d shoot you in the face with a hose?”

I look
up at him and shrug.  “Why not?  I shot you in the face with it.”

He
grins. “I can take it.”

“You’re
not so tough,” I wrap my arms around his waist.  “All talk and no action.”

“No
action, eh?” he raises his eyebrows.  He leans down and plants a kiss on me
that makes my head spin, then pulls away.  “You taste like shaving cream.  It’s
gross.”

“Oh,
well thank you.  You have egg all over your face and it’s gross,” I laugh.

Shel’s
voice comes from behind us.  “You’re both gross.  Would you get your hands off
each other for a second?  What do you want on your pizza?”

When
the sedative wears off enough for me to open my eyes again, it is late
afternoon the next day.  I stretch out my body and my muscles protest.  I must
have stayed in the same position the whole time.  Ouch.

As I
wait for the blood to return to my limbs, I replay the Davis’ visit and how
angry they are with me.  My heart hurts.  I wish I was strong enough to have
talked to them, to apologize for temporarily losing my sanity.  I didn’t plan
for it to happen; I was doing pretty well until I lost my concentration on that
blasted plant.  The orchid.  I realize now why I was drawn to it.  The same fuchsia
flowers were in my prom corsage.

I get
out of bed and shuffle my way to the bathroom.

“Em? 
Is that you?” I hear my mom shout up the stairs.

“Yes!”

“Everything
okay?”

“Yes! 
I’ll be down in a sec.”  I look in the bathroom mirror.  Yikes.  I brush my
teeth and then try to comb through the snarls in my hair.  It’s not working
very well.  I then realize I’m in the same clothes I wore yesterday and decide
a shower is in order.

The hot
water feels amazing.  I soap up my hair, pile it on top of my head and let the
water pound on the back of my neck.  It relaxes my muscles and reminds me of when
James would rub my shoulders when I was stressed.  I could sure use a massage
right now.  I try to remove the tension from my shoulders myself, but it’s a
lame attempt and does nothing.

“I wish
I could do that for you.”

My head
snaps up and I jump as if I’ve been electrocuted.  James’ voice is clear as
day.

Startled,
I glance around the shower.  I swear it sounded like he was
right here. 
My
heart starts to beat faster as I push aside the floral shower curtain, expecting
to see him standing there.  I look around the bathroom.  He’s not here, of
course.  I pull the curtain back and wrap my arms around myself.  In my drug
induced state my mind is playing tricks on me.

Deciding
that human interaction is what I need right now, I quickly finish the shower, throw
on some cut-off jean shorts and an old WMU tee, and head downstairs.  As I do, I
twist my wet hair into a low knot.

I find
my mom curled on our suede beige couch reading.  She looks up from
The Flint
Journal
.  “Feeling better?”

“I
think I’m still a little groggy,” I tell her. 
And I’m hearing voices,
my mind adds.

She
frowns.  “Apparently you needed some extra rest.”

I
shrug.  “Maybe.  I’m going to get something to eat.  That will probably help.”

“There’s
Chinese in the refrigerator.  Your dad got take out.”

I nod
and head to the kitchen.  Inside the fridge I find a carton of almond chicken
and a carton of fried rice.  I set about plating it then place it in the
microwave.

My mom
enters the kitchen.  “So…”

I look
at her.  “So?”

“We
need to talk.”  She takes a seat on a stool at the island.

I
return my attention to the microwave, enter the time, and press start. 
“About?”

“Well,
for starters, I talked to Shel.”

I turn
around and lean against the stove.

“Your
dad and I think you need someone around who you can talk to, a friend to hang
out with,” she says.  “It might make you feel better.”

“Haven’t
I released enough emotion?” I ask sarcastically, referring to my recent
meltdown.  I never thought I was capable of screaming the way I did at the
funeral home.

She
shrugs.  “Maybe, maybe not.”

I take
in her pensive expression.  “Listen, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry for breaking down at
the funeral and for yelling at you the other night.  I didn’t mean it.”

“You
don’t have to apologize,” she leans one arm against the granite countertop.  “I
can’t tell you how angry I am with that witch Carol Davis for making you feel
like you should be ashamed.  What she said was uncalled for.  You can erupt
anyway you please.”

Am I a
volcano?
 
I could be Mt. Vesuvius.  I think of my bloody dream and
fighting off my mother.  Nothing like that has ever happened before. 

“You
need to release your feelings; it’s not healthy to keep them trapped inside,”
my mom says.  “I’ve only seen you cry twice since this happened.”

I study
the floor next to the stove and direct my words to the wood instead of her
compassionate face.  “I’ve cried more than you know.”

My mom sighs. 
“Your father and I don’t want you to feel like you can’t express your feelings. 
You don’t have to hide them.  That might be why you had that nightmare.  Shel
agrees with me.”

“So
Shel is a psychologist now?” I smirk.  “What happened to becoming an M.D.?”

“Look,”
my mother sets her palms against the counter.  “Your father and I are worried. 
We know things will get better with time, but recent events…” she trails off.  
“We’re concerned as any parents would be.  You sleep all the time.  You haven’t
left the house.  You haven’t talked to your friends.  You’re not eating…”

I point
toward the microwave.  “I’m eating.”

Her
eyes soften. “Not regularly.”  She hesitates.  “You haven’t unpacked anything we
brought home from school except your computer.  Em, when’s the last time you
said James’ name?”

Where
is she going with this?  “It’s only been two weeks,” I whisper.

“Honey,
it’s been a month.”

The
realization startles me.  The microwave beeps, but I don’t move to collect my
food.  What little appetite I had is gone.  Has that much time really passed?

“You’re
becoming a shell of yourself,” she says and stands.  She walks around the
island and stops in front of me.  “That’s why Shel is coming to stay for a few
weeks.  Longer if necessary.”

      I
snap to.  “No!  Mom.  I think she’s taking spring classes.  I don’t want to
inconvenience her.”

“It’s
been worked out,” she says and rubs my arm.  “There is no inconvenience. 
Besides, Shel wants to help.”

I stare
at her.  The last thing I want to do is expose Shel to my depression, if that’s
what this is.  Am I depressed?  Or going nuts?  A month of my life has
disappeared, and I just heard James’ voice in the shower.

My
mother places her hands on my shoulders.  “I want you to know this is the first
step.  If we don’t see some of the old Emma back by the end of the summer, your
dad and I will look into therapy.”

 It’s
one thing to question my own sanity.  It’s quite another to have my parents and
best friend do so behind my back.  “Why?”  My expression twists.  “I’m not
losing it!  I’m not crazy!”

I
think.

“I
didn’t say you were,” my mom remains calm.  “But, we need to find a way to cope
with this.  James was part of our family.  He’s been hanging around this house
since you two were ten.  It would help us all…your dad, me, even Mike, to talk
about him.”

“So
what’s stopping you?  Reminisce all you want.”  I need to check my harsh tone. 
I know my parents only want what’s best for me.

 “The
last time anyone mentioned James, other than right now in this moment, you went
into some sort of trance,” her kind eyes narrow.  “Do you remember what
happened after the Davis’ left?”

I look away
from her as I think back.  Things are blurry, probably due to the pill she gave
me after my nightmare.  “You found me on the stairs.  Then I went to bed.”

Her voice
wavers.  “Dad had to carry you to bed.  You wouldn’t move; it was like your
muscles were locked.  Sweetie, you kept saying the accident was your fault. 
Why would you say that?  How could you think that?  You cried yourself to
sleep.”

My eyes
sting and I slam them shut to prevent the tears from falling.  It doesn’t work
and a few drops tumble down my cheek.  I can’t tell her why I’m the reason
James is no longer with us.  It’s too painful.

Her
fingers leave my shoulders, brush beneath my eyes, and smear my tears.  There’s
no way she can catch them all and they continue to fall and roll down my face. 
She gives up and wraps me in a warm hug instead.

“James
fell asleep at the wheel,” she says softly, yet holds me tight.  “There’s
nothing you could have done.”

That’s
not true.  There’s one thing I could have done.  One thing I should have done.

My
mom allows me to cry against her.  She doesn’t ask questions.  She doesn’t
press the therapy issue or talk about Shel’s upcoming stay.  She just holds me
and strokes my hair like I’m a little girl again.

Once I
calmed down and took two, maybe three, bites of almond chicken, I spent the
rest of the evening watching television with my parents.  We started with the six
o’clock news then changed to the History Channel, where we were sucked into a marathon
of
Pawn Stars
.  Chumlee cracks me up.  Well, he typically does.  Due to
my somber mood, he just made me smirk a lot.

My dad
yawns.  “Well, I’m ready for bed.”  We lost mom for the night about an hour
ago.  He turns to me, his body half hanging off the recliner.  “Are you heading
up?”

I don’t
feel sleepy at all.  “No, I think I’ll stay and watch something else.”

“Not
tired?”

I shake
my head.

My
dad’s mouth quirks up.  “Imagine that.  A good doping will do that to you.”

I roll
my eyes.  He doesn’t like that my mom gave me a sedative that knocked me out
for half a day.  The two of them ended up having breakfast for dinner and
before he cracked each egg he’d hold it up and say, “This is your brain.”  Then
he’d crack the egg into the pan and say, “This is your brain on drugs,” as it
sizzled.  Then he’d leer at mom.  “Any questions?”  I guess it’s an old 80’s
commercial.  After the sixth time he said the slogan, she snapped him with the
dish towel.

My dad
pats my head as he passes me.  “Good night, Em Bug.”

I stare
after him in surprise.  I can’t remember that last time he called me that.  “’Night.”

When he
disappears up the stairs, I start to flip through the channels.  Infomercial,
infomercial,
Jersey Shore, HGTV
, infomercial.  As I continue, there’s
really nothing on I want to watch.  I mute the TV and stretch.  What to do? 
There’s a book I was in the middle of reading before I came home.  I head
upstairs and grab it, along with my pillow to make me a cozy reading space on
the couch.  I get a bottle of water from the fridge and settle into my little
nest to pick up in the middle of
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. 
I’ve
missed Lisbeth Salander; she’s definitely kick-ass, something I am completely
unfamiliar with.

I find
my bookmark, open the book, and start scanning the paragraphs to figure out
where I left off.  I bend the spine back and forth and settle in to read when a
piece of folded notebook paper falls out from between the front cover and first
page.

What’s
this?  I close the book and unfold the paper.

Em –

Things
have been crazy busy lately so I wanted to go old school and put it on paper (this
way you can keep it forever) and tell you I love you more than you know.

More
than the sun

More
than the stars

More
than breathing

More
than life itself.

Until
the end of forever,

James

My
throat tightens and my chest feels hollow.

I wish
I had found his note sooner, when I could have told him I felt the same.  I
would give anything just to be able to tell him again that I love him.  To hold
him in my arms, kiss his crooked smile, and run my fingers through his hair.  To
tease him about drinking too much Red Bull because he stayed up late watching a
game or admonish him for not doing his laundry.  Lately we’d been making plans
for our senior year and beyond; we’d requested an off-campus apartment for
housing in the fall.  The goal was to live together, graduate together, and
start our future together.

I lay
my head down in my reading nest and hold the paper close to my heart.  You
would think there wouldn’t be any tears left, but they spill silently down my face. 
With my book forgotten and my pillow soaked, I clutch the note to my chest and
repeat the same thing over and over in my head, trying to lure sleep into
taking me.

I
love you.  I miss you.  Until the end of forever.

I open
my eyes and groan.  “Oh man.”

“Nice
to see you too.”  Shel is sitting across from me in the chair with her arms and
legs crossed, her big brown eyes trained on me.  I imagine she has been impatiently
waiting for me to wake up.  The ends of her light brown hair have been colored
a fiery red and her blunt-cut bangs remind me of Zooey Deschanel.  She uncrosses
her arms and leans forward, resting her chin on her hands.