Paranormal Realities Box Set (49 page)

Dad shook his head "I have to go
into work early tomorrow." At my groan he continued. "I know.
Saturday. But I'll be home in time to catch a movie if you wanna go."

"Okay," I said. "Tomorrow.
After the test."

* * * * *

As I turned on the water faucet to rinse
out a glass the next morning, I glanced through the window over the sink.
Outside, Holden was sitting in a wicker chair on the back courtyard patio. An
unaccountable affection I couldn't quell, even if I wanted to, filled me at the
sight of him. He still wore the same navy blue shirt and jeans he had on at the
dance. Had he been there all night?

Opening the back door, I called out to
him. "Hey Holden. Why don't you come in?"

He shook his head. "Your
father—"

"He left for work already. It's
okay."

He rose with a smile and came forward.

"I'm just finishing breakfast."

Holden strode inside shutting the door
behind him. When he saw the kitchen table, he let out a bark of laughter.

"What?" I asked. "What's
so funny?"

"That," he said, pointing to
the box of cereal next to the milk carton and used bowl on the table.
"It's funny because Lucky Charms is my favorite breakfast."

"Do you want some?" I moved to
the cupboard to get a second bowl.

"Na, I'm...not hungry right
now," he said. "But man I loved the Charms. It used to make my mom
furious when she'd come downstairs in the morning and find me eating right out
of the box."

"Didn't you use milk?"

"Yeah. But sometimes I was impatient
and I just poured the milk into the plastic bag the cereal comes in."

"Omigod. You're terrible," I
joked.

"Mom would be like, 'You're ruining
the whole box' but I didn't care. It only meant I got to eat the whole thing.
An entire box of Lucky Charms and a slice of cold pizza."

"Eww, what a combination." I
crinkled my nose in distaste. "Of course, I already threw my pizza crust in
the waste basket this morning. Don't get too close or you'll smell my guilty
pizza breath."

We both laughed.

"Come here, pizza breath."
Holden reached for my shoulders and pulled me to him. Bringing one hand to my
chin, he tilted my face up while leaning down to me. "I need to kiss
you."

Okay with me. More than okay.

His mouth covered mine, his full lips
moving to send ripples of pleasure running from my head to my feet. When his
tongue traced the seam of my lips, I eagerly opened them. I was rewarded with
my first French kiss.

Not wanting to break the spell, I
nevertheless couldn't help wrapping my arms around his neck and running my
fingers up his neck and into his hair. He seemed to enjoy my caresses. Holden
groaned and the kiss deepened even more.

Finally, Holden pulled back and broke our
kiss. With his arms still around me he smiled and licked his lips. "Yum.
Pepperoni."

Suppressing a smile, I said, "But in
my defense, I did use a bowl for the cereal."

This renewed his laughter and I joined
in.

"I love that," he said when our
laughter had died.

"The cereal? I thought we just
established that."

"No, the little squeak you have at
the end of your laugh. You always have that squeak."

"What do you mean by
always
? You
said I
always
squeak."

A shadow of an expression passed over his
face but was gone before I could process exactly what it meant. A grin replaced
the shadow. His arms dropped and he walked to the other side of the kitchen
table, putting it between us.

"Every time I've heard you laugh
like you really mean it, you have a little squeak at the end," he
explained.

"I don't know. A squeak makes me
sound like a mouse," I said, forcing a chuckle. "Real
attractive."

Holden stared at me. No laughter in his
eyes. No smile on his lips. Utter sincerity. "You think your
ordinary," he said. "Average. You're not. You're beautiful."

Suddenly, the pine plank of our kitchen
table was the most interesting thing in the world and I traced the line of the
grain with my index finger as he continued.

"You're funny, and compassionate and
you care about others," he continued. "Sometimes I think you care too
much about others. Sometimes....But anyway. This time, I don't want anything or
anyone to stop us from being together."

"The way you talk, it's like we've
know each other—"

"All our lives?" he inserted.

"It's all riddles. You seem so
familiar. So right. But I don't remember you being in my life before
yesterday."

"Maybe we've known each other in
other lifetimes. Ever think of that?"

The SATs were less than an hour and a
half away —ready or not. Reluctantly, I suggested we set out. Holden just
seemed happy to be with me. He wasn't nervous in the least.

Clearly, he wasn't scheduled for the big
test.

I wished I didn't have to go, but I
didn't know how I could explain missing it to Dad. But I was determined to talk
candidly with him that afternoon.

Holding hands but without speaking,
Holden and I walked toward the school. The two of us felt more comfortable than
my favorite slippers and more exciting than a roller coaster.

Past lives?

I hadn't pressed Holden and he hadn't
volunteered anything more.

Not that I hadn't given some
consideration to the concept, but this life had always seemed like more than I
could handle, let alone some other ones I couldn't remember.

The sun shone bright today with the
temperature in the 60s, so I wasn't surprised to see a lot of people already
milling around the square near the school.

Despite giving Dad beaucoup grief when
he'd announced his work transfer, I had to admit Savannah was growing on me.
The buildings had an old-world elegance. No office high-rises or cookie cutter
mcmansions. Every building was different and unique. And there was so much
green space. My favorite was the live oak trees. With the Spanish moss draped
from them, it seemed like the city was always decorated for a holiday.

Someone I knew was near the square's
center, examining the face of a cell phone.

"There's Lashonda," I
exclaimed. "Come on. I want to introduce you two."

In the distance, the clock in the steeple
tower of the corner church tolled nine times.

A memory of Mrs. Gazardi saying something
about a 9:18 a.m. deadline came into my head and then was gone again.

"Don't be shy," I said.

"No, Eve." Holden strained
against my hold. "I don't—"

"She'll love you," I said,
dragging him by the hand into a run.

My friend, clad in some pretty stylish
jeans and a t-shirt that molded to her figure, swiped at the phone face before
tossing it into her purse.

"Lashonda," I shouted.
"Wait up."

She swiveled at the sound of my voice and
waved as she started towards us. I slowed to a walk.

Birds pecked at the remnants of a muffin
on the nearby park bench, so tame they didn't fly away. Our approach didn't
ruffle their feathers. The loudspeaker system of the passing tourist trolley
blasted us with a snippet of narration from the tour guide about the square.

"You left your purse at the party,
Eve," Lashonda said when we were face-to-face. "I have it at
home."

"Thanks girlfriend," I teased.

"Don't call me girlfriend," she
said immediately, with a laughing glint in her eye.

"I want you to meet someone." I
tugged at the sleeve of a reluctant Holden jerking him forward.

"Eve," Holden said, "I
don't think this is the right time."

"'Course it is, silly."

"Who's silly?" Lashonda asked,
a quizzical tilt to her head as her eyebrow arched.

"Holden," I answered with a
laugh, a glance and a nod his way. My grin felt so wide it would stretch my
chin out of shape. "You told me to go after him and you were right."

"Him who?" she asked.

"The Viking," I said, inclining
my head in his direction. "Let me introduce you two. I want him to meet my
best friend."

"Oh, sweetie. That's great,"
Lashonda gushed, taking me by the shoulders and giving me a quick hug.
"How about tonight? We can all meet up at the Mall Food Court."

"Tonight?" I shook my head,
confused. "How about now?"

"Cool." She scanned our
surroundings. "Are you meeting him here before the test?"

My heart suddenly felt like a bird from the
bench had flown in my mouth and lodged in my throat with its wings beating.

Omigod. Lashonda didn't see him. She
didn't see Holden standing right there next to me.

Was he really there? He must not be. I
hadn't had an imaginary friend since I was four. I must be crazy. Delusional.
Straightjacket
and electroshock, here I come.

The tourists, Lashonda, the birds
pecking, the tour bus...Everything and everyone seemed to be in slow motion. My
awareness heightened to the point where I could see and hear everything at
once.

"Ummm, yeah." I was finally
able to mumble to Lashonda. "Meeting him here."

"Well, don't wait for him too long.
You don't want to be late for the test." With a wave, she turned on her
heel and started in the direction of the school.

"Eve. Listen." Holden reached
for me but I evaded his grasp.

"No," I said. "I
can't...This is all..."

Before I knew it, I was running. I didn't
remember when I'd started moving, waking to conscious thought only when already
in mid-dash.

"Stop. Eve."

Hearing his voice only increased my speed
and I dodged between two benches to get away. I registered Lashonda's widened
eyes as I passed her before propelling myself out of the square and across the
street to the other side. Once there, I stopped on the curb in front of the
church and scanned the path I'd taken. I searched for Holden but didn't see
him. Some kind of commotion—probably the tourists who clogged the
city—blocked my view.

"Eve." Holden's voice from
behind caused me to turn. He stood at the entrance of the church, holding the
door half-open. He waved me toward him, a slight smile twisting one side of his
lips. Suddenly, I wondered why I'd been so spooked.

Why was my first instinct always to run
away? Shouldn't I start facing things instead of avoiding them?

Besides, Holden's face was so handsome,
so dear to me. I...I loved him. Didn't I?

I should just go to him
, I thought. But when I got closer,
Holden turned and entered the church, forcing me to follow. Inside, my eyes
easily adjusted to the dim interior after the bright sunshine to see Holden as
he passed through a door to the right of the nave. Through that door I found a
winding staircase that must lead to the tower steeple.

Up, I climbed, probably more than two
hundred stairs. When I reached the top, Holden was there. He'd apparently
opened the window and he was leaning on the sill as he gazed out onto the city
landscape.

A breeze blew through the steeple from
the window ruffling my hair and sending a chill through me.

"What's going on, Holden?" I
asked. "Why couldn't Lashonda see you?"

He didn't leave the window but turned his
head to me. "Maybe, the best way is for you to see. Come here."

Stepping up next to him, I grasped the
sill to lean out.

"Look over there." He pointed
down.

I followed his direction and looked to
the street below.

A trolley tour bus was pulled over,
parked at a strange angle on the street in front of the church. A man in a cap
designating him as the driver sat on the curb with his head in his hands. The
passengers had left the trolley and milled in a cluster at the front bumper.

"What am I looking at?" I
asked.

Holden didn't answer. Merely shrugging,
the sad turn of his lips etched lines around his mouth.

My gaze returned to the street where I
observed Lashonda pushing her way out of the crowd. She stumbled as she mounted
the curb. Even from here I could tell she was sobbing.

"Lashonda," I called to her.
What was wrong? "Lashonda. Are you okay?"

She didn't seem to hear me.

A man clicking photos with his a long lens
camera moved to the right just as the woman next to him moved to the left. The
momentary parting in the cluster allowed me to see the focus of their
attention.

Me.

My body lay still, broken and bloody in
the street.

"Ahhhhhhhh," I screamed,
jumping back from the window and whirling away from the scene. Step-by-step I
backed up until I bumped into the metal railing of the staircase.