Night Sky (33 page)

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Authors: Suzanne Brockmann

BOOK: Night Sky
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Chapter
Twenty-Six

It was a miracle.

Calvin was standing on his own two feet in front of me, without any assistance from his wheelchair. He wasn't even hanging on to anything.

I was speechless.

But, once again, Milo didn't look all that surprised.

“Calvin!” I whispered, reaching out a hand to touch him, as if what I was seeing wasn't actually real.

“Ho-ly shee-it,” he said again. And, for a moment, I thought he was actually going to cry.

Instead, he whooped. It was the sound of someone overcome with pure, unadulterated joy. “Oooooh-hoooooo!” he cried out, and those little underused legs of his marched in place. “This is…”

“Awesome!” I finished for him, my voice low with a mixture of disbelief and excitement. Dana was doing this. Dana had the telekinetic power to make Calvin stand up and walk around.

She kicked open the passenger door to Calvin's car and stepped out onto the blacktop, dropping the f-bomb under her breath like she was keeping the beat to a song. Bullets of sweat popped off her. I could see the sheen across her forehead, even from several feet away.

“Are you okay?” I asked her. She was doing this, but from the look of things, it wasn't easy.

She grimaced and slammed the car door shut behind her. She trudged toward us, all her movements slow and labored, as if she were wading through mud.

“I'm 'kay,” Dana verified.

As if to prove just how okay she was, she made Cal do a jumping jack.

And then she marched him back and forth in front of us. He swung his arms by his sides, as if attempting to create a more natural-looking stride. It made him look even more absurd. I didn't say anything, though, because he was grinning his ass off.

“Let me see if I can…” Dana said, and marched Calvin over to a nearby bench. She frowned as she moved him. His lower body pivoted before his knees and hips bent, the movements jerky and almost militaristic. Calvin being Calvin, he snapped off a sharp salute right before Dana sat him down.

She immediately relaxed, all the air leaving her in one long sigh.

It was amazing, the kind of control she must've had to be able to maneuver him that way. “Have you done that before?” I asked “How long did you practice before you…”

“I didn't,” Dana snarled. “Practice. This was my first try.”

“Wow,” I said, even as Calvin chimed in with a “Ho shit!”


Ho
shit
is right,” Dana replied. “It's a little harder than I'd anticipated.”

“Do you want me to try to help?” I asked her.


No!
” Both Dana and Calvin exclaimed at the same time.

“I mean,” Cal continued, “that's nice of you and all, but it's not like you've had a lot of experience with this stuff. I think maybe you should practice a little bit more on inanimate objects before you start pulling the full-on Jesus moves. Please. I love you, but no, thank you.”

I couldn't argue with that. “Are you going to be okay?” I asked Dana.

“I'll be fine,” Dana insisted. “It's gonna be a workout, but I've got this.” She looked at Calvin. “Just, don't be offended if I sit you down at the bar every once in a while.”

Calvin grinned up at her. “You are my queen. Do whatever you want with me, Your Majesty.”

—

We walked right into the club. All four of us. No problem.

We all flashed our IDs as Dana leaned close to the bouncers who stood behind a maroon-colored velvet rope.

Their necks were as thick as my waist and their arms were crossed across their chests, noses pointed to the air. I could practically see their blood pumping through the bulging veins in their Popeye-esque forearms. And whatever Dana said to them, they didn't blink. But their heads tilted slightly to the side as they waved us in.

Calvin turned around to grin at me as he walked through the narrow entryway of the club and into the main room. He mouthed the words
Jesus
moves
to me.

Or maybe he said it, and I just couldn't hear him over the relentlessly loud throbbing of music that wasn't particularly interesting. Again, like at Garrett's, it would be impossible to speak and be heard in here, and as Dana turned to look back at me, I gave her an unenthusiastic fist pump.

No sewage smell here. Not yet anyway.

Overhead, chandeliers dangled and twinkled against the dim light of the dance floor. The place was packed. Everywhere I looked, people danced and moved, the patterns of their skimpy outfits gleaming against tanned, hard muscles.

I felt rude at first, pushing against strangers as I attempted to find a space with some elbow room. But I quickly realized that attempting to apologize or say “excuse me” every time I nudged someone was both tedious and unnecessary.

No one cared.

I breathed more deeply, and beneath the gallons of perfume and cologne, I got garlic and peppers and some kind of cloyingly sweet smell—and of course that relentless, ever-present fish. I hated—
hated
—that smell, and come to think of it, I hated just about my entire birthday so far.

And then I smelled vanilla.

I turned, and sure enough, Milo was right behind me. Unlike Dana, his eyes didn't hold that same-old question. He probably figured that if I smelled something nasty, I'd be barfing, and since I wasn't… He smiled reassuringly and mouthed the words
Want
something
to
drink
?

I shook my head, because I was already well on my way to needing to pee. And I turned away fast, because I found myself wanting, with a sudden fierce desire, to close my eyes and make a wish and turn myself into a far more normal seventeen-year-old who'd gotten a fake ID to come to this club to
dance
, not sniff people for traces of evil, like some kind of glorified rescue dog.

And as long as I was wishing for the impossible, I wished that Milo was here with me, and not just in a
Milo, you get to babysit Sky
way.

I wished he would dance with me.

Of course, right at that moment someone bumped into me. I stumbled slightly, and Milo reached out to steady me, his hand electric against my waist.

Our connection clicked on, and ohmygodohmygod, everything I was thinking was right there, front and center for him to see, hear, feel, know—and I tried to shut it all down. But I knew there was no way I could make my mind go completely blank, so I grabbed at that last thought, and I aimed it at an almost impossibly handsome dark-haired man—boy, really, because he wasn't that much older than me—who was dancing with a bored-looking girl in a red minidress. And I focused on his mocha-colored skin and midnight brown eyes so that Milo would interpret my previous thought as
I
wished
he
would
dance
with
me
.

Come to think of it, he looked kind of like Tom Diaz, of super-romantic-kiss fame, although he couldn't possibly be. Tom was back in California and…I suddenly found myself missing Tom with an intensity that rolled through me like a surging high tide—and Milo took his hand from my waist as if he'd been burned.

Which was a good thing. Although, in all honesty, it was the
idea
of Tom that I truly longed for—the idea of having someone in the same way that Dana and Milo had each other.

Because if I had someone like Tom, I wouldn't be standing here in this noisy, crowded, smelly room jonesing for Dana's boyfriend.

Misery filled my throat, and I glanced back at him. He said something to me, which of course I couldn't hear.

He said it again, and again I shook my head, and, with frustration on his usually patient face, he held out his hand for me to take.

So I did.

I
really
hate
it
here
too
, he told me.
I'm sorry you're having such a crappy birthday, Sky, I really am. Why don't we just find someplace to sit and wait for Dana? Unless…I know you want to dance. And I know I'm not Tom, I mean, I didn't even realize you had a boyfriend—

He's not my boyfriend
, I admitted, but then added,
I
mean, yeah, I wanted him to be. He was really nice. I met him at a party about a year ago and… You know how you meet somebody and everything just clicks?

He did know. He didn't say as much, but I could feel it.

And
then—amazingly—they're equally into you?
I continued.

Yeah, I guess
. Milo's smile was rueful as he pulled me to the side of the room where there was a café table—one of those high ones—with a single empty stool.
Sit
. Before I could form the
What about you?
thought into words, he added,
I'll stand. I'm good.

So I climbed up onto that chair as he thought,
So
Tom
moved
to
California?
He held my hand atop the table, loosely caught between both of his as he gazed out at the dance floor, as if standing guard.

No, he was only in Connecticut visiting his cousin
, I told him.
He
went
home. He wanted us to do some kind of crazy, long-distance thing, thinking we could see each other on vacations, but when we looked at our calendars, we didn't both have the same week free for the next two years, so…we just kinda let it go.

I'm sorry
, Milo said, and I knew that he meant it.

Still
, I shrugged.
I'm glad I met him. And you know, I was only sixteen. It's not like I'm not going to have another chance to meet someone equally great who's equally into me, right? Although, to be honest, I've met a lot of guys, and the first thing I usually think is, “Well, he's no Tom Diaz.”

Milo glanced at me with those eyes.
Maybe
you
should
plan
to
go
to
California
after
you
graduate. Does he live in L.A.?

Sonoma
, I told him.
His
family
owns
a…restaurant, I think it was.

It's beautiful out there. Dana and I spent a coupla months in San Francisco, which is not that far from Tom-Diaz-land.

You've been with her—Dana—for a long time
. It wasn't really a question, and I didn't wait for him to answer it. I just plunged on.
I
really
like
her. Dana. I value her as a teacher, as a mentor, and a…a role model. And a friend. I think of her as a very close friend. She's very important to me.

He blinked at me.
That's…good. I'm sure she'll appreciate knowing that.

And
you
are
too
, I added. It was a little heavy-handed, but I wanted to reassure him that, in case he picked up even just the smallest whiff of my crush on him, he'd understand that I had priorities and a well-developed sense of right and wrong—please God, don't let that change. As long as my G-T-ness didn't turn me into a sociopathic monster of selfishness, I would never, ever jeopardize my friendship with Dana.

Important
to
me
, I added.
I'm really glad that you're my friend too, Milo.

He pulled his hand away to get his pack of gum from his pocket and to unwrap a piece. Part of the paper had glued itself onto the piece, and he frowned at it, glancing up to roll his eyes and smile at me. He leaned close to my ear to say, “I'm honored that you think of me as a friend.”

I touched his arm.
Where
is
Dana
? I asked, but then said,
Never
mind
, and took my hand back, as I saw her over by the bar. She was talking, heads close together, to a stunningly handsome but undeniably dangerous-looking man.

Milo touched my shoulder, his hand warm against my bare skin. I looked up at him as he pulled his hand away fast. “Sorry,” he said. “I should probably just…” He reached out again to touch me with a single finger against my elbow.
Look
out
on
the
floor.

I turned and looked out where the crowd was thickest. At first I could only see a mass of moving limbs, but when I looked more closely, I noticed that Calvin was in the center of it all, doing the infamous robot, undeniably in the spotlight.

As if my thoughts had cued it, a literal spotlight came out and focused its beam on Calvin.

The crowd went crazy, and I laughed out loud. Milo was grinning too.

But the weird thing was Calvin didn't look like he was having a good time. In fact, he seemed to be waving his robot-like arms to catch Dana's attention. As I watched, he tried to leave the dance floor, but then Dana turned to glare at him, and he spun on his heel before doing a half split on the floor and then jumping into the air.

The crowd whistled and clapped.

I reached for Milo's hand.
Oh, man,
I told him, still giggling.
I'm glad he couldn't feel that, 'cause it looked like it would have hurt.

But then I stopped laughing because Dana had left the bar and was heading for us, the gorgeous man just a few steps behind her.

I pulled my hand free from Milo's, because that would've been just a little too weird—my sitting there like that in full view—but Dana didn't slow down as she approached. She
did
touch her nose and widen her eyes at me as she breezed past us, so I knew enough to take a deep breath when her new friend followed after her.

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