Heal Me (A Touched Trilogy Book 2) (6 page)

“It can, but with Dylan...he used to be the sweetest guy. I remember the first Valentine’s Day after we started dating. He bought me a giant stuffed teddy and a bunch of pink roses. Then he hid them in my locker before school.”

“Sounds kind of cheesy to me.”

“Of course it does. You’re a guy and you’re not thirteen. Trust me it sounds a bit cheesy to me now, too.” Although cheesy doesn’t mean unwanted.

“Thirteen? You’ve been dating him that long?”

“Four years.”

“And since he’s no longer the same guy he was when he was thirteen, you decided to dump him?” Again, I waited for a hint of disdain, but nothing.

“I didn’t just suddenly decide. All of this...stuff with him has been going on for months. I keep trying to help him, but he’s always so angry and hurt. You don’t know what it’s like to carry someone else’s emotional baggage.”

“And you do?”

“Yeah, I do.” Pushing the chair back to stand, I tried to act naturally despite feeling anything but. “I need to go get ready for my next class.”

“What do you-?”

“Lily!” Phoebe’s voice cut off Micah’s question. I glanced down the aisle between the bookshelves leading from the main part of the library to the study booths where Micah and I were and saw her marching toward us with a purpose. As soon as she reached us, she enfolded me in her arms, squeezing me in a bear hug that for once wasn’t a weird Phoebe moment. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said without thinking.

“Liar. I don’t know why you even try that with me anymore. It’s like you continually forget I’m a Truth Teller.”

“A what?” Micah asked.

Phoebe startled, as if just realizing that not only was Micah there, but that he was there with me. She left go of me and faced Micah.

“What’s your name again?” she asked with her typical lack of manners.

“Micah. We have Civics together.”

“Oh, sure.” She seemed to be trying to place his face for a moment, before a light bulb went off. “Oh! You’re Mickey, the guy Tonya was talking about.”

“She was?” I asked.

Micah and Phoebe ignored my question.

“What’s a Truth Teller?” He folded his arms across his chest.

“You don’t know?” she asked him, then before he could answer she turned to me. “You haven’t told him?”

“No.”

“Told me what?” Micah asked, but neither of us responded to him.

“You haven’t healed him?”

“What?” Micah now looked completely confused.

“No. Yes.” I admitted before she could call me out again.

“What are you guys talking about?” We continued to ignore him.

“Phoebe, I’ll talk to you later. Please.” I dropped my bag on to the table. Phoebe had always hated the whole Freaky Matlins thing, but now that her gift finally worked, she had no problem showing off and I didn’t want Micah to see that.

“Fine, but you have to promise you’ll tell me what happened before you tell Chloe.”

“I promise.” I gave her a slight shove, glad she was only full of curiosity and not worry.

“What was all that talk about ‘have you healed him’ and ‘I’m a Truth Teller’?” Micah asked once Phoebe was gone.

There’d never been a time when I’d tried to hide my gift and I liked knowing I could help people. Yet part of me was reluctant to tell people anything specific due to the drilling Dad had given us for years. He’d made sure we knew how dangerous and sometimes hurtful it could be if we used our gifts out in the open. There were always people willing to use you and a lot of times it was the people you least expected. But most of all, at that moment, with Micah staring down at me, I hated the fact that as soon as he knew, he’d treat me differently.

At this point though, there was no stopping him from finding out. If Phoebe didn’t tell him, he’d just ask someone else and then the stories had the potential to get pretty crazy. Back in sixth grade, Andrew had told one of the younger kids I’d brought his dog back to life instead of just healing a small scratch and by the end of the day, the entire school was convinced I was bringing about a zombie apocalypse. It had taken years for the rumor to die down. Even now, I still got the occasional snarky moan.

“My family is different,” I told him.

“Different?”

“Our nanna always says we’ve been graced with special gifts.”

“Gifts? And that means what?”

“It means that we have special talents and can do things that other people can’t.”

Micah’s eyebrows soared in a mixture of skepticism and humor. “So you’re like human pretzels or can tie a knot in a cherry stem with your tongue.”

“No, that’s not what it means.” I rolled my eyes. “It means we can do paranormal things.”

“So then what exactly can you guys do?” He was clearly struggling to hold in his laughter and I already regretted telling him.

“Phoebe’s a Truth Teller, so she knows when someone is telling a lie.”

“Uh huh, nice to have a gift that doesn’t require her to be able to prove anything unless someone is willing to admit their guilt,” he said, clearly skeptical. “So you and your sisters know if someone is lying. Great.”

“No, only Phoebe can do that. Chloe can see the future.”

“Really? Wouldn’t that kind of be like horoscopes being self-fulfilling prophecies? Once I know my future, won’t I gravitate towards choices that will make it happen?”

“Never mind. Let’s just forget this whole conversation.”

I started to walk away when Micah blocked my way. The half smile on his face had me itching to wipe it off.

“What about you?” he asked.

I stared at him and everything inside of me resisted the idea of telling him. His skepticism begged me to just let it go, to pretend that I was normal and that I was joking about all of it, but that would just make him more curious. I didn’t want to have to prove anything to him and I already knew he would eventually want me to. Everyone did.

“I’m a healer.”

What I saw in his eyes was a confirmation of everything that I knew would happen. Doubt warred with a sudden spark of interest inside of him, and if I stayed any longer, he would ask for proof. And I couldn’t do it, not when I was just about to get myself together.

“I’ve gotta go,” I said and took off, practically running to get away. I needed to get ready for my next class. That was my excuse and I was sticking to it. It had absolutely nothing to do with the dread that Micah would want me to help someone in his family. I was simply consumed by the hope that I would make it to class on time.

My hope vanished when I found Chloe leaning against the locker beside mine. Especially since she looked pissed.

“Bianca told me you just broke up with Dylan in the cafeteria. What the hell is going on with you?” she demanded, pushing off the blue metal locker. “Why did you break up with him? You know you guys are going to be together. How could you not have told me? Was this why you switched it so you’d be partners with Micah?”

“I tried telling you,” I said, breaking into what was surely an endless stream of questions I couldn’t and didn’t want to answer.

“Lily, what is this about? I told you that you guys were gonna be fine. Christmas and prom, remember?” She had and her reminder of it was the final straw now.

“Maybe I don’t want fine, Chloe. At least not with Dylan.”

“Why not?” she asked with a certain type of desperation, not for me to feel secure in my decision, but in fear that her visions had been wrong yet again.

“You have no idea what it’s like...” I shook my head, unable to even begin explaining it to her. How could I ever hope that she would feel what I did?

“Then tell me, Lils. Because obviously something is wrong with Dylan and you’re not willing to help him.”

Not willing to help. If only she could feel how much I had helped him already.

“You have the easiest gift of all of us,” she continued. “You simply touch someone and make everything feel better. Why won’t you just help Dylan and then things can go back to normal?”

The unfamiliar rise of anger sparked in me again. She had no clue what my gift was like. She wanted me to use my gift, just so she could comfort herself in the knowledge that her ability was still working right.

“Have you ever stuck your hand over a candle and held it there? Have you thrust your entire arm into a pot of boiling water?” The words poured out of me, devoid of any of the raging emotions I was feeling, and once they started, I couldn’t seem to hold them in any longer. “Would you find that easier than staring into space and watching a blurry picture? Would you like to feel every ounce of pain and suffering a person is going through when they’ve just watched someone they love die? Would you like to have the memory of how Mom felt as she bled out?”

Phoebe stared at me in growing horror. She had no clue what my gift was about. No one did.

“It hurts.
I
hurt. Every moment of every day, I feel all the pain and anger and crap that everyone around me is feeling. Each time Dylan touches me, I want to die. He pulls everything I am out of me and replaces it with this vile, twisting mess of negativity and emptiness. That’s why I’ve been so tired, because he leaves me with nothing inside.”

I knew she was shocked and hurt. And that was exactly why I had never told my sisters what my gift did to me. This moment would change everything between us and I hated the fact that I had caused it and the desire to pull the words back in was overwhelming, but it was too late.

“I...I’m sorry, Lils,” she said, staring at me as if I’d grown horns. “I had no idea... you never said anything. I’m so sorry.”

She was sorry and I was sorry, because in the end, telling her wouldn’t fix anything. So, I did what I always did. I reached out and touched her hand. A few seconds and she wore a hint of a smile.

If only it were that easy to heal myself.

Chapter 5

Despite telling him I’d be over, I skipped going to Micah’s that afternoon, preferring to avoid his curious hazel gaze and continue wallowing in self-pity. I’d never been a fan of pity parties, but this felt like the kind of day that lent itself to one. Although, considering I'd just dumped him, Dylan probably had a better reason to feel sorry for himself. It was hard not to think about him. I hadn’t been sure I loved him when I told him it was over, but I knew now.

I did love him, I probably always would, just not enough.

My cell phone rang a few times with Dylan’s picture flashing across the screen. After the fourth call, I turned it off. He eventually must have figured out I’d done that, because he switched to calling the home phone. Luckily Dad wasn’t there, because as much as he liked Dylan, he’d pull out all his legal jargon about harassment and stalking laws.

Dylan’s third call on the home phone came after Phoebe made it home from Nathan’s. I was sitting on the couch watching
The Hobbit
when she came into the den, holding the phone in one hand. She held it up to me, but I shook my head, letting my red curtain of curls cover my face.

“I’m sorry, Dylan,” she said into the receiver. “I thought she was in her room, but I guess she’s still over at M...out.”

She tried to cover that she’d nearly said I was over at Micah’s, which could only mean that either she knew about what had almost happened between Micah and me or there was some rumor about it having happened.

“I’ll tell her you called.” She hung up, even as Dylan’s enraged voice continued to come from the line.

After flicking the ringer off and placing it on the table, she came over and sat beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I rested my head against her and we just sat, not saying anything. She was sad and her feelings flowed into me, becoming a part of my own so perfectly I couldn’t find a way to separate them.

“Chloe told you, didn’t she?” I asked in a hushed voice.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything, Lils?”

“There was nothing you could do. Just like when you thought you didn’t have a gift. I couldn’t help you then either.”

“That’s bull. I remember so many times when I was bitter and upset about it and then you’d pass by me and touch my hand or arm before I even knew what you were doing, and instantly I’d feel better. God, Lils, you’ve healed us thousands of times, and every time it hurt you.”

“I didn’t mind.” I lifted my head to look her in the eyes, wanting her to not just hear the truth in my words, but to see it in my face. I could never regret a single time I’d healed my sisters. Well, there was the one time Phoebe decided to steal Chloe’s boyfriend in the eighth grade, and he ended up playing her for a fool as well. I should have made her suffer, let her learn her lesson a bit, even if I’d been in excruciating pain for a few days,.

A few days were nothing in comparison to what Dad had gone through when Mom died. Nanna had once made a comment about how clingy I had been when I was a baby, but it hadn’t been clinginess. It had been self-preservation. If I went too long between physical contact with Dad, his feelings of loss would have grown and I would burn with the need to heal him. I think I was four or five when I stopped feeling his ever-present sorrow.

“Never again,” Phoebe said with a shake of her head. “Chloe and I made a pact that we’re not going to let you heal either one of us ever again.”

I gave her a slight smile for her uncommon thoughtfulness. “I wish that would help, Phoebe, but it’ll only make things worse.”

“What do you mean?”

I contemplated how to answer her. I’d spilled the worst to Chloe and she hadn’t seemed to take it very well, but Phoebe was a bit more blasé about things. It made it a bit easier knowing that I didn’t have to worry about hurting Phoebe’s feelings. She wouldn’t give a crap that I had never told her before. Okay, maybe she would mind, but not to the same degree as Chloe would.

“The actual healing doesn’t hurt so much.” I curled my legs up beside me on the couch and tried to give her a reassuring smile, apparently unsuccessfully, because she looked even more worried. “It’s draining and emotionally it can be unbearable, but the burning comes even before I touch someone. When they’re struggling to maintain their control, when all they want is for everything to go away. The longer it takes before I can touch them, the longer they let things fester, the more it hurts, until I have to do it simply to keep my sanity.”

Phoebe sat down beside me, a thoughtful look on her face.

“That’s crappy, Lils. No, I mean totally crappy. What good is a gift like healing if you’re constantly in pain? The worst I get is some cramps when someone is really trying to cover their ass. You really got screwed, didn’t you?”

I loved how Phoebe could be so brutally honest and still make me laugh.

“It isn’t all bad,” I said.

“So you enjoy burning up like you’re sitting on Nanna’s birthday cake?”

“No, but occasionally someone will let something good slip through.”

“What do you mean?”

I tried to remember an instance. Not an easy thing since occasionally actually meant rarely.

“Well, do you remember when you won that art contest in ninth grade? You drew a picture of the three of us and they hung it in the local art gallery.”

“Yeah, I won a new Playstation, too.”

“I was the first person you hugged after you found out and I could actually feel your happiness flow through me. It was such a light feeling, like I was sitting in the warm sun just soaking it up.” A small smile curled my lips. It was strange trying to describe how good she’d made me feel that day, almost as if I was guilty of stealing some of it.

“What’s Nanna said about it? The burning, I mean.”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing as in she has nothing to say? Or nothing as in you’ve never asked her?” She leaned toward me and I avoided her hard gaze. “Lily! Why haven’t you ever asked her?”

“It’s kind of a hard question to ask.”

“How about starting with ‘Hey is it normal for me to feel like I’m burning alive anytime I’m around a person who feels like crap’? Nanna’s going to know. If you don’t want to ask her, what about Uncle Silas? He’s a healer, too.”

“It’s not the same. He’s one of those miracle workers. You know, the big ones, like making the blind see, or healing a broken arm.”

“That was my arm and trust me, he may have fixed it, but it hurt like hell the entire time.”

“That’s my point. We may both be healers, but we’re not the same kind. He permanently fixes, I just transfer.” I scooted off the couch and shuffled over to the bookshelf that was cluttered with photos. My favorite was the one of Mom and Dad just weeks before she had us. She was lying in bed, while Dad smiled at the camera and massaged her feet.

“You have memories of her, don’t you?” Phoebe asked from her perch on the couch.

“Not really memories, more like impressions.”

“Of?”

“I knew she was dying. Sometimes when I’m on the verge of sleep, I’ll get this sense of weakening, like I’m draining away, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it, but it’s not me really. It’s her.”

“Was she in pain?” She rose and came to stand behind me, staring over my shoulder at the picture.

It was difficult to swallow as my throat tightened. Mom was a touchy subject with Phoebe and even after all the crap she finally let go of, I wasn’t sure how she’d react. She’d always been jealous of Chloe and me for having memories of Mom. Would she still feel that way if she knew the truth of what I remembered? I doubted it, and I honestly felt it better that she wish for what I had, than to know the truth of what it was I felt. With Chloe, I could have lied, but lying wasn’t an option with Phoebe, so I decided to ignore her question.

“I tried to help her, but I couldn’t do anything. That’s the worst part of this gift. If I could actually do something other than make someone forget their anger or hurt for a bit, or make a scratch or bruise fade, then everything I go through would be worth it.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Her hand hovered above my shoulder a moment before she pulled it back. That reaction was part of the reason I’d never shared the details of my gift with anyone. Once they knew I actually took their emotions from them and into myself, they wouldn’t want me to do it again. God knew I wouldn’t want someone else knowing exactly what I was feeling all the time.

“You do realize that this is probably the longest conversation we’ve had in a long time,” Phoebe said with a forced laugh. “I wasn’t sure you could string so many words together.”

“Well, unlike you I only talk when I have important things to say,” I teased back, glad the seriousness was dissipating.

“Can I ask something about Dylan?”

I glanced back at her and nodded, figuring why not? I’d already spilled my guts.

“Was he right about Micah being the reason you broke up with him?”

I wanted to give an immediate no, but with Phoebe, I had to be sure. Had he been part of it? Not initially. That was for sure. But now? I definitely felt guilty about almost kissing him, wanting to kiss him, but beyond that, there wasn’t anything between us. He may be hot, and he was losing a bit of the ass-wipe attitude, but it was hard to forget how mean he’d been to me that first week.

“No,” I finally said.

Phoebe stared at me and then gave a slow nod. I took it as a good sign that she didn’t call me a liar. Because I wasn’t sure if I was.

The next few days proved how relentless Dylan could be. He was at my locker when I arrived at school, and followed me to class. He must have skipped most of his because every time I left a room he was there, waiting and pleading. By lunch on Thursday, I was barely able to carry my tray to a table. Dylan was a few steps behind me and I realized if I stopped moving he would touch me, trying to form some connection between us.

I’d known it would be a hard break, but I’d never imagined he would be so aggressive in trying to get me to change my mind. It was a rollercoaster, one minute he was begging me for another chance, and then the next he was accusing me of dropping him for Micah and then Owen and even Nathan.

A few tables ahead, Owen sat with Bianca and Karin. When he saw me headed their way, he waved me over and I knew I didn’t want to miss having my own friends anymore. I’d gone too long simply joining in with Dylan and his buddies. I stopped and turned to face him, my tray firmly positioned in front of me.

“Stop it, Dylan.” My tray rattled, causing my milk box to tip over into the pile of mashed peas.

“Not until you talk to me about this.” He took a step closer and I automatically moved back.

“There’s nothing to talk about. Not anymore.”

“You make it sound as if you tried to tell me before that you were unhappy.” Accusations had become Dylan’s favorite defensive plan.

“I did try, you just weren’t listening. You keep saying you love me, well then love me enough to leave me alone. Because every moment I’m around you, I love you less.” The words were hard to say and even harder to feel as they hit Dylan with full force, but when I walked away this time, he didn’t follow. The searing in my hands and arms had gradually faded by the time I sat beside Karin. Instead, I was filled with the nausea at the words I’d let spew forth. This officially was my lowest moment as a human being.

“You look a little pale,” Karin said with concern.

Bianca snorted. “I didn’t think it would be possible for her to look whiter than she normally does.”

“Not all of us have the benefit of a healthy toned gene pool,” I said. Bianca’s Asian heritage gave her the lovely tanned skin that was perfect year round, and Karin, while not naturally tanned, wasn’t covered by hundreds of sun kisses and was able to take advantage of both the sun and tanning beds. Even Owen had a touch of Greek blood, giving him an olive complexion.

I battled my impulses to turn and search for Dylan. I was sure he had given up, at least temporarily, but I was reluctant to look, just in case.

“He’s gone.”

I jumped at the sound of Micah’s voice behind me. He sank into the seat on the other side of Karin and I looked around her to give him a glare.

“Can you never approach me from the front?”

“Well, if the view from the back weren’t so appealing maybe I would.” He took a large bite of his apple and completely ignored my shocked gasp.

How was I supposed to take that? Was he saying I had a nice butt? Or was he saying he didn’t find my face appealing? I tried to think of a snappy comeback, but nothing came to mind, and then it was too late. He’d started talking to Bianca about some local rock band and I was shut out.

Karin asked me about a class I was taking and I ended up drawn into the most boring discussion ever about Physics, while Bianca, Owen, and Micah had all the fun discussing music. No wonder Phoebe and Tonya always tried to ditch Karin. It was a mystery why Owen hung around her. Of course, I didn’t have enough friends to be turning my nose up at her simply because she was boring.

I really did try to focus on what she was talking about, but it was nearly impossible to get Dylan out of my head. He’d been such a big part of my life for so long I wasn’t sure how to stop thinking about him. It had been a futile hope that breaking up with him would be the end of it.