Perception (9 page)

I OPENED MY EYES. IT TOOK A FEW SECONDS TO
focus because I’d squeezed them shut so hard at the moment of impact. My hands still gripped the wheel, my arms stick-straight. I took a quick mental inventory to see if I was hurt, but I didn’t feel anything.

I brought my hands down to my lap in slow motion and turned to Perry. His eyes were open, but he looked like he was about to vomit. He brought his hands up to his face and pressed on his forehead.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He nodded quickly. “Let’s go.”

“We can’t go. I hit something.”

He ignored me and doubled over in his seat, face still covered.

My legs felt stiff as I got out and walked around to the back of the car, terrified of what I might find. A pickup truck sat in the driveway, its tailgate down. A rubber trash can lay on its side, but I didn’t think that was what I hit.

“What happened?” an angry voice asked.

I whirled around and saw a man getting up from the grass, wiping his pants off.

“I’m so sorry,” I pleaded as I rushed over to him. “I wasn’t paying attention. My brother looked sick and I was staring at him and the car swerved —”

I stopped as I recognized the man I’d just nearly killed. “Mr. Rylander?”

His mouth, too, opened in the surprise of recognition. “Clare Fern?” He frowned. “This kind of high jinks is the last thing I expected from someone like you.” He stepped closer and sniffed. “Have you been drinking?”

A teacher. I nearly ran over one of my teachers. I wished I could turn invisible. I glanced over my shoulder. Perry was still in the car, probably spraying puke all over the place, thanks to whatever bug he had. I turned back, my long hair covering half my face as I stared at the ground.

“I wasn’t drinking. I’m just apparently a bad driver. I’m very sorry.” Then I remembered the crunch. I gaped at him. “Did I hit you?”

“No, I launched myself backward just in time. You did, however, smash my fence.”

I walked over to my back bumper and there it was. One panel of a cute white picket fence on the ground under my tire. My hand flew up to my mouth. “I’m so sorry!”

“As you’ve said.” Rylander crossed his arms.

I was relieved that I hadn’t hit him, but also nervous. I had no idea how much it cost to fix a fence, but however much it was, it was probably more than I had at
the moment. I rubbed the back of my neck. “I’ll, um, call my mother, and …”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, dropping his arms.

“What?”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble. I’m pretty handy with stuff like this. I’ll have that fence fixed in no time.”

“Really?” Gratitude washed over me. For once, I was glad Rylander tried so hard to be Mr. Likable. If it was Mr. Frederick, I’d have been in handcuffs.

“You should take him to a doctor, though.” He pointed at the car, where Perry was hunched over.

“I will,” I said, nodding gratefully. “I’ll get him checked out right away.”

I slid back into the driver’s seat, then wondered if that was such a great idea. After all, my driving practice had just ended in a fail with a capital
F
.

“You should probably drive,” I said to my brother.

Perry shook his head vehemently. “Just go. Go now.” He covered his ears with his hands, like he was trying to block out my voice. But I wasn’t even talking.

“I think I should take you to the ER.”

He turned to me, his face distorted into something I didn’t recognize. “Take. Me. Home. Now!”

“Okay, okay.” I turned the ignition and the car started. Thankfully, it was all in one piece. The bumper was damaged, but it could have been a lot worse.

I felt a little bump as the back tires came down off the curb. I was paranoid now and kept the speed at twenty, my eyes staring straight ahead.

“Just stop!” Perry yelled. “I can’t listen right now!” He pulled his head down between his knees.

“I’m not talking,” I said, taking a peek at him. He was in the crash position and I wondered if he had hit his head after all. But I didn’t want a repeat of what had just happened, so I forced my eyes to stay on the road this time, ignoring his moaning and groaning.

When we were almost home, he brought his head up, leaned back, and started to take deep breaths. As soon as I pulled into the driveway, he bolted out of the car, leaving the door open. I closed both doors and looked up at the house with my jaw clenched. Perry had run inside. He was probably already blabbing to Mom about what I did.

I lumbered up the porch and gingerly shut the door behind me, hoping to sneak upstairs.

“Clare?” Mom called out.

My shoulders slumped. “Coming.” I walked into the kitchen like a prisoner to execution.

Mom was stacking up her packages. “I’m heading out to the post office to mail these. How did the driving go?”

My eyes darted back and forth. “Where’s Perry?”

She shrugged. “Back to his room, I suppose. He bolted up the stairs without a word.”

He didn’t tattle, which was nice, but Mom was sure to see the giant dent in the bumper when she went out to the driveway.

“It didn’t exactly go smoothly,” I admitted.

With a worried look, Mom unloaded the packages from her arms back onto the table. “What happened?”

“Perry looked really sick. I thought he was going to throw up. And I was watching him instead of the road and … long story short, there’s a dent in the back bumper.”

Mom’s hand flew up to her chest. “Did you hit another car?”

“No, a fence. But it’s fine. Everything’s fine. No thanks to Perry.”

“It’s sounds like you’re trying to blame your brother for your mistake,” she said, furrowing her brow.

“I’m not. I mean, if he wasn’t acting psychotic, I would have had my eyes on the road, but yeah, I know it’s my fault. I’ll pay Perry for the repair somehow.”

Mom let out a long exhale. “Perry’s not fixing that old beast. It probably has less than a year of life left in it. It can still run with a dent in the bumper.” She shook her finger at me. “But from now on, you’re only doing your driving with me.”

I never wanted to get in a car with Perry again, so that was fine. I helped Mom load the packages into her car. After she drove away, I inspected the damage to Perry’s bumper. It really wasn’t that bad, but I still didn’t truly understand what had happened. Perry had been on edge as soon as we left the house. It got increasingly worse the farther away we got. Then, after the accident, it was like he was a crazy person. What had happened in that car?

I looked slyly at the passenger side. I
could
try to find out.

I glanced up at the house windows to make sure Perry wasn’t watching, then jumped into the passenger seat.

When we first started out, he’d been gripping the door handle, so I gripped it tightly with my right hand. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate.

The image flickered around the edges for a moment and then came into full view. Perry’s eyes were on the road, nowhere else. He never looked at me. Never looked out the window. Just straight ahead. I heard myself chattering to him, but tried to tune that out and focus on Perry’s inner thoughts.

Oh man, I don’t feel good.

It’s happening again.

I should have found a way to stay home.

Okay, try to stay calm. Take deep breaths. That website said you can talk yourself through this. Ugh. How can I talk myself through a heart attack?!

Then the car stopped short and the vision ended. That must have been when I slammed on the brakes at the light. I thought back to where Perry’s hands went then: the dashboard.

I placed my palms on the dash, where I would if I were bracing myself. Nothing came at first, so I spaced them out a little wider. The vision came quickly. An intense flash.

“Clare! Red means stop, you know.”

I heard myself apologizing, then the car took a right onto Hickory, and the vision ended. Perry must have returned his hands to his lap. I felt around a bit more: on the seat, the belt, but no visions surfaced. I was pretty sure Perry had his hands either balled up on his lap or gripping his head the rest of the way.

Two things concerned me. One, Perry had obviously been hiding a secret. He wasn’t just grumpy all the time. He’d been battling anxiety. And laziness wasn’t keeping him stuck in the house like a recluse. Panic attacks were.

My other concern was that I still hadn’t found out what changed
after
the accident. Perry had obviously been hearing a voice. But I had no way to find out what was going on in his head on the way home because he hadn’t touched anything.

I looked up at his window again. I guess I could try asking.

I went upstairs to Perry’s room. It was messy, as usual. His bed was unmade. His desk was covered in papers and books. His walls hadn’t changed since he was nine years old. They still had the same faded pennants: Red Sox, Bruins, Patriots, Celtics.

Perry, though, had changed.

He sat at his desk, staring down at his hands.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the doctor?”

“I’m fine now,” he said.

“What happened back there?” I asked softly.

He moved to his bed and sat down. “I didn’t feel well.”

“I did a reading on the passenger side,” I confessed. “I know about the anxiety.”

I expected him to yell at me about invading his privacy, but instead he looked relieved. “Something changed inside me after everything happened this summer. I started to have these horrible feelings when I left home. Sweating, ragged breathing, chest pain, nausea.”

I sank down beside him. “Panic attacks.”

“Yeah.” He blinked back tears. “The first time it happened, I didn’t understand. I thought I was dying. Having a heart attack or something. But as soon as I was safely back home, it stopped. It started to happen more and more, and then I was scared to leave the house because I feared the panic attack that I knew would come.” He shook his head. “I know this probably makes no sense to you.”

“It makes perfect sense,” I said. “I saw a show about this once. You have agoraphobia.” I paused. “And I’m a huge jerk. I complained when you didn’t want to drive me places. When you deferred college.” I raked my hands through my hair. “Why didn’t I see what was really going on?”

Perry smiled sadly. “You don’t get it, do you? You’re the strong one, not me. Yeah, I know the right things to say to people, but there’s a big difference between charisma and strength. You’ve got strength. That’s why you didn’t see it. It wouldn’t even occur to you that I’d become afraid to leave the house.”

I wanted to tell him he was wrong. My whole life, I’d thought of Perry as the strong one and me as the meek one. He was extroverted and charismatic. He could calm Mom down quicker than a glass of wine. But here he was, saying I had the strength in the family. Despite how much I disagreed, he didn’t need me to be contrary right now.

Tears stung my eyes. I felt guilty for every time I’d snapped at him. For seeing him as moody instead of seeing someone who needed help. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more supportive.”

He shrugged. “You would have been if I’d just been hon
est. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. I was embarrassed, I guess.” He stared down at the floor.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We went through a lot over the summer. You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t affected by that.”

“You weren’t,” he said, his eyes snapping up to mine. “You moved on. You want to go do more cases. You want to be Spider-Man.”

I grinned at his joke. “People handle things in different ways. Plus, you went through a lot more than I did. I didn’t even know the girl who was killed. You did. They fingered you as the killer. You were staring down a life in prison at one point. Of course you’re not going to come out of that unscathed.”

“I’m working hard to try to fix it,” he said. “Don’t tell Mom, okay? I want to try to handle this on my own.”

“Okay, but first you have to tell me what happened
after
the accident. Who were you yelling at?”

He looked at me steadily. “It was that Ashley girl.”

I squinted, confused. “The one who came through during Mrs. Waldman’s reading?”

“Yeah. After the crash, she was there, yelling in my head. And it makes no sense. I wasn’t even focused.”

No wonder he’d been so shaken up. “Sometimes I’m hit with visions when I’m not concentrating,” I said. “It’s rare, but it happens.”

He shook his head. “My gift doesn’t work like that. I have to
try
. And I didn’t. She just barreled through.”

It was true. Perry didn’t have ghosts following him around
all day. He didn’t see dead people while he walked through the mall. It took a lot of effort for him to connect with a spirit. So for Ashley to bust in like that was highly unusual.

“Maybe you were so freaked out by the accident, you opened your mind without realizing.” I lapsed into silence. “Who cares why it happened. What did she say? Was she any more coherent this time?”

“Hardly. Again, she was panicked, almost screaming.” He brought a shaky hand to his forehead. “It hurt my head.”

Perry’s shoulders were slumped forward, his eyes sunken. Even voluntary readings tended to tire Perry a bit, but this one seemed to suck all the energy from him.

“Were you able to make out anything she said?”

“I got her full name. Ashley Reed. I’m not sure, but I think she said she was famous. Or ‘a famous’ something or other. I don’t know. All I got was that and one other thing.”

“It should be easy enough to figure out.” I got off the bed, sat at his desk, and opened his laptop. It was already on, so I went to the search engine and typed “Ashley Reed.”

Perry fell back on the bed. “Read it to me.”

My eyes skimmed the listings. “There’s nothing. If she was famous, there would be something on the first page. But there’s nothing really.” I went to pages two and three. “Just regular people named Ashley Reed with Facebook pages and stuff. No one famous.” I clicked over to the news section and retried the search. “Nothing in the news under that name, either.”