The Space Between Heartbeats (4 page)

WEDNESDAY, 10:23 AM

Once I make it to school, I rush toward the dance studio, where I’d be if this was a normal school day. The door is closed and I hesitate, remembering the disorienting sensation of falling through the car door. Before I can figure out a solution to my dilemma, the door bursts open and a stream of girls blasts through me, as if I’m no more than a cloud of smoke.

Casey Morgan shivers and wraps her pink cardigan closer to her chest. “Did you feel that?” she asks Grace Chan.

But I don’t hear Grace’s response because walking toward me now are Amber, Penny, and
Lauren
. My eyes narrow as I remember Trent resting his hand on her hip and pressing his mouth against hers.
Traitor.

When Amber reaches me, I grab for her arm out of instinct, but my fingers swipe straight through her flesh. She has no reaction, too busy giggling with Lauren over her make-out session at study group. I trail behind them down the hall, feeling dejected and desperate.

“I couldn’t help it,” Amber says with a sly grin. “He’s hot.”

Lauren flips her blonde locks off her shoulder. “He’s not
that
hot. You were just too drunk to notice.”

Amber’s face indignantly flushes pink. “I was not! I barely drank last night, I was driving.”

“You were a little drunk,” Penny murmurs, pulling her phone from her bag.

Which is a polite way of saying she was probably way too drunk to drive home safely.

“Okay, fine, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a good kisser,” Amber says.

“So you gonna start dating him?” Lauren nudges Amber with her shoulder and arches her eyebrow.

“Maybe.” Amber shrugs.

Penny grins and threads her arm through Amber’s.

“Either way,” Lauren says, “you better make sure Nicole keeps her hooks out of him.”

I bristle. That’s rich, coming from Lauren, who had
her
hooks in
my
boyfriend less than two hours ago.

Amber rolls her eyes. “Did you see her prancing around last night in her new outfit? She’s such a little thief.” Her voice drips with disdain as they all take a right, heading for the library for our free period.

Well, she’s certainly changed her tune. It stings, though, to hear her talk about me that way. I expect it from Lauren, and I have no illusions about who Amber is, but I guess I’d naively hoped she saved her venom for others. For people who weren’t her so-called best friend.

Penny squeezes Amber’s arm to her side. “Whoa, you guys, check this out. I just got a text from Milly.”

The two other girls give her blank stares.

“You know, the chubby girl who helps in the office.” Penny frowns. “Do you ever listen to anything I tell you?” She holds the phone up to her face with a huff.

I move behind my friends in order to avoid an onslaught of human traffic as we weave through the narrow corridor.

“Listen to this . . .” Penny slows to a stop once we reach the bank of lockers just outside the library. The fluorescent lights flicker and buzz, and a cluster of freshmen girls push past, one of their backpacks knocking into Penny’s arm. She shoots them an annoyed look, then reads aloud from her phone. “Just overheard convo. Nicole not at school. Mom thinks she’s AWOL.”

The girls gasp and my chest tightens with hope. Now they can start piecing it together and come find me. Amber may be mad over something I’ve supposedly done, but she has to care that I’ve gone missing.

Lauren shakes her head. “No way. She’s cutting again.”

“Yeah, I mean, she didn’t call this morning,” Amber adds, her upper lip curling.

Penny glances up from her phone. “Did you call her?”

“I tried.” Amber’s voice goes high and she scuffs her heel on the floor.

“Liar.” Lauren giggles. “You’re still mad she rejected your ride home last night.”

Wait. I did
what
?

Amber throws her arms up. “Hey, I had to discuss a very important kissing scenario and she wasn’t there for me. She was too busy nursing her nine-thousandth beer by the fire.”

“Guys!” I shout, unheard. “Can one of you start to worry, please?” I think of my body lying on the forest floor, my throbbing elbow, my pounding head, the blood. I’ve already been out there for hours, and no one even knows I’m missing yet.

Penny looks around the hallway contemplatively, as if searching the crowds for me. “I’m gonna tweet, see if anyone’s seen her.”

“Thank you, Penny.” I scowl at my other supposed friends.

If you want to know anything at this school, you follow @PennyKimKnows. Within two minutes of the girls standing outside the library, Matt and Drue walk over, their equally long strides making them look more like brothers than friends. Matt’s thick, sandy locks are tousled and messy, unlike Drue’s perfectly styled hair.

Matt leans against a chipped, gray locker. “So Nicole’s AWOL?” His words are light, but his expression is guarded and there are dark bags under his eyes. I remember how he looked at me last night, and how I brushed him off. Again.

Amber’s eyes light up at the promise of drama. “Yeah, her mom called the office. She hasn’t seen her.”

I glare at her as she leans against the lockers.

“I’m surprised her mother even cares,” Drue says, hitching his backpack higher on his shoulders. Unlike Matt’s bag, which is covered in ink stains and emblazoned with a pot leaf, Drue’s is pristine, mayor-approved. “She’s allowed to do whatever she wants.”

Matt chuckles at his friend’s bitter tone. “So your dad got home early from his business trip. Get over it.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Drue mutters. “He didn’t catch you sneaking in last night. I’m grounded until Monday.”

Penny chimes in. “If I ever got busted sneaking home after ten on a school night, I’d be grounded for
life
. Nicole waltzes in and out of her place whenever she wants.”

“I wish I had her life,” Drue moans.

“Not right now you don’t,” I say. I want to shake them. They have parents who actually care enough to ground them and they’re acting like it’s a total drag. Maybe, if I had parents like theirs, I wouldn’t be alone on the forest floor, bleeding out. Alone.

“So, where do you think she is?” Penny’s eyes are starting to sparkle, too, and my stomach sinks as the one person I’d hoped would take this seriously becomes more interested in gossiping about me than finding me.

“At home.” Lauren shrugs.

Matt shoves his hands in his pockets. “LA for the day.”

Drue chuckles while flicking his long bangs out of his eyes. “No way, man. She’s definitely hooking up with Trent behind the bleachers again.”

Lauren makes a disgusted face and Matt glares at Drue.

And then, as if on cue, Trent comes around the corner. “Who’s making out with me?”

I check out his tall frame. If this had been a normal day, I would have put my arm around his waist. He would have kissed the top of my head and we would have walked into the library with the others, sharing secret looks. His hand would have settled on my back, sending stars glowing all over my body.

Now all I can see are those hands on Lauren.

“Nicole, who else?” Matt shrugs.

Trent chuckles and runs his fingers through his short, dark hair, his gaze flicking to Lauren. She acts as though there’s nothing between them, but I see their spark so clearly that I wonder how I could have ever missed it.

“She’s disappeared, you know.” Penny is once again glued to her phone screen.

“What?” Trent swallows. He frowns at Lauren.

Lauren lifts her chin, her eyes hardening. “Yeah, apparently her mom called the school to say she doesn’t know where she is.”

“That’s crazy. She’s around.” Trent tugs on the collar of his leather jacket.

“She’s not at home.” Amber gives him a pointed look, obviously fishing for more.

Trent doesn’t bite. “She’s probably just run away to LA for the day.”

“He’s right, you know,” Lauren chimes in, a little too brightly. “We all saw her Instagram pic. She’s probably walking Rodeo Drive as we speak.”

Amber’s expression darkens. “She was supposed to take me.” I can hear her thinking,
Bitch
.

I wave a hand in her face. “I didn’t
not
take you, Amber. I’m
dying
, not shopping on Rodeo Drive.”

I glance at Lauren, who’s back to studying her nails. “Whatever,” she says. “You know Nicole. Anything to get attention.”

They all nod, and my stomach flutters. Am I honestly that bad?

“You know, she
was
acting kind of weird last night.” Penny runs her hand down the braid over her shoulder. “She wasn’t herself.”

What the hell does that mean?

Amber frowns, unsure.

“Oh, come on, you didn’t notice? She was kind of uptight and snappy. When Drue started blasting the music, she just went and sat by the fire,” Penny says.

“Yeah, that’s true. It was kind of a downer, actually.” Trent clears his throat. “She definitely wasn’t her usual self.”

“You mean wild and unpredictable?” Lauren rolls her eyes. “She’s obviously making up for that today.”

Trent shoots Lauren a look that only I seem to notice. The bell rings and my boyfriend straightens up and slides his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Well, that’s our cue.” Trent nods at Drue, and they saunter off to their next class.

Matt pulls open the library door for everyone else and we file inside. The library is quiet aside from the hum of the air conditioner. Only a few tables are occupied, and Ms. Spitz looks up from the stacks when we walk in. She has dyed pink hair, a nose stud, and chunky black glasses. But beneath her hipster exterior lies a drill sergeant, and she runs the library with military precision. No eating, no talking unless it’s about homework, and no funny business. She’s given me detention three times for making out with Trent in the stacks. You’d think I’d learn, but the truth is I like the library. Reading and caring about my grades will always be important to me.

Penny drops her books on a big table, biting her lip. “What if she’s not shopping?”

Thank you. Finally.

“Maybe she’s run away. She’s been threatening to do it for months.” Amber pulls out a chair. “You said she was acting weird last night. Maybe when she got home, she packed her stuff and left.”

Matt leans back and rests his arm along the back of Penny’s chair, his expression slightly dark and bitter. “What are the odds that some random guy picked her up and they’re now getting married in Vegas?”

Everyone laughs.

“Maybe some trucker kidnapped her and she’s locked in the back with a trailer load of livestock,” Amber chimes in. Ms. Spitz shoots her a warning look.

“Why would that be funny?” my voice punches out in harsh syllables.

Penny giggles. “Maybe she’s on a bus to New York.
#NicoleMakesABreakForIt.
”

I throw my bag on the table. “Penny, not you, too! I haven’t run away.”

“Maybe she’s dead.” The table goes silent at Lauren’s casual statement. They all look at her with open-mouthed shock, then at one another . . . and then all start cracking up.

As my friends laugh, I study Lauren. I take in her dyed blonde hair, the dark roots beneath beginning to poke out. Her hazel eyes are glassy and bloodshot. She flicks her hair over her shoulder and I notice two angry scratch marks just beneath her ear. Who has she been scraping with?

Her words echo in my head.
Maybe she’s dead.

“I’m not dead yet,” I mumble then lean toward her and yell, “Did you hear me? I’m still out there!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a head pop up from a book and look around the room as if he just heard something.

As if he just heard
me.

“Hello?” I yell across the room, toward my potential savior. “Please, can you hear me? I need help.”

The book lowers, and the guy’s eyes pop wide, his mouth dropping open as he looks straight at me.

My heart sinks.

It’s Dale Finnigan.

WEDNESDAY, 10:47 AM

Of all the people to finally hear me, it has to be the one person least likely to want to help me. If that’s not irony, I don’t know what is.

I lick my lips and grab my bag.

“What choice do you have?” I mutter to myself.

Taking one last look at my friends, who are still whispering about where I might be, I weave around the tables and crouch down next to Dale. I wave my hand in front of his face, but his eyes keep scanning his physics textbook, his jaw muscles working as he clenches and unclenches his teeth.

“Can you see me?” I ask, touching his shoulder.

Dale inhales sharply. His gaze darts to the side, his eyes skirting the space around me. He shivers, then shakes his head, like he’s trying to brush off an unpleasant memory.

I lean over so my lips are right next to his ear.

“Can you
hear
me?” I whisper.

He drops his book onto the table with a loud bang and clutches his heart. Everyone in the library looks at him, frowning and rolling their eyes. Matt makes some comment I can’t hear and soon their whole table has dissolved into laughter. The librarian appears, a tight scowl on her face, her nose ring glinting in the harsh overhead light.

“Zip the lips, guys. Because the next person who talks gets detention shelving books with me for a week,” she says, looking pointedly at my friends. They sober up immediately and turn back to their textbooks.

I focus on Dale once more, nearly melting with relief that someone can actually hear me. “Dale, I—”

Dale flinches and leans away from my voice, muttering something that sounds like “. . . crazy . . .” under his breath.

“What did you say?” I ask, leaning closer.

The next second, he pushes his chair back from the table with a jerk, and gathers his things with shaking hands.

“Dale?”

He makes a beeline for the exit, grappling with his bag’s zipper as he tries to pack it and walk at the same time. I follow him and manage to squeeze through the door before it closes on me.

“Where are you going?” I call.

Dale’s black-and-white Converse squeak, the sound amplified by the empty halls. His strides are long and purposeful, and he’s gripping the shoulder strap of his bag like it’s a lifeline.

“Dale, please stop. I need to talk to you,” I plead.

We head down the corridor and turn the corner. The florescent lights above us flicker erratically as we speed past the lockers.

“I know you can hear me,” I say. “It’s me, Nicole.”

Dale’s face goes ashen and he picks up his pace.

I let out a little scream. “Damn it, Dale. STOP! Please!”

His back tenses like he’s preparing for a blow and he slows a little, but he doesn’t stop walking.

“Look, I know this sounds crazy.” I fall into step with him. “And I know you hate me—and you have every reason to. I was horrible to you, and I’ve regretted it ever since. But I need your help. For some reason, you’re the only one who can hear me.”

Dale just shakes his head and I wish—not for the first time—that I had apologized months ago, when it would have felt genuine, not when I need something from him.

Desperation floods my system as he strides around the next corner. I stop in my tracks, on the verge of tears.

As I stand there in the hallway, the lights continuing to flicker like some cheap horror movie effect, the weight of my situation presses down on me. I’m only sixteen years old. My life can’t end now, not before I’ve had a chance to get out of this place and make something of myself. To live a life I might actually want.

It’s not supposed to be over. I’m supposed to be sitting in a library right now, pretending not to care about schoolwork and snickering with Amber about the horrendous pink of Ms. Spitz’s hair, not in the woods, wondering if anyone is going to save to me—or fighting the tiny voice in my head that whispers, “Maybe you don’t deserve to be saved.”

Finally, the dam breaks. I cry quietly at first, then loud heaving sobs. Tears run down my cheeks, but I know they’re not really there. They’re an illusion, just like I am. Nothing but ether and air.

“Nicole?”

I glance up at Dale’s whisper. His face is pale and his hands are trembling, but he is walking back down the corridor, inching toward me. I sniffle loudly and brush my tears away.

“I’m here,” I manage.

His gaze darts in my direction and he starts speaking to the locker next to me. I move over so we’re facing each other. His warm brown eyes are hesitant, uncertain. “I don’t hate you. I just—” He breaks off. Two breaths rush in and out of his nose, then he swallows. “This is insane. This can’t be happening.”

“It is. I swear I’m not messing with you. I don’t know why you can hear me, but you seem to be the only person who can. Please, I need—”

He suddenly laughs. It’s brittle and loud, verging on hysteria and perforating the space between us.

“I’m talking to a ghost, right? You’re a ghost . . . or something?” His voice pitches on the last word.

“I’m not dead.” I say the words slowly and clearly, willing myself to believe them.

“So what does that mean then? What are you?” he asks.

I lift my shoulders and sigh. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

For a moment, he just stands there. Then he shakes his head, his curls bouncing in front of his eyes. “I’m sorry, this is just too weird,” he says. “I must be losing my mind.”

He turns on his heel and urgent panic sizzles through me. I yell after him, “Please, Dale! I’m not dead, but I will be if you don’t help find my body.”

My loud outburst is followed by a stony silence until gradually, as if in slow motion, Dale spins back around to face me. His whole demeanor has changed, suddenly serious.

Dropping his bag to the floor, Dale looks all around the hall before whispering, “What’s happened to you?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, I’m here, but my body . . .” My voice starts to quiver. “I’m down an embankment in a wooded area and I don’t know how I got there. I can’t remember anything.”

“What’s the last thing you
do
remember?”

“Amber drove me to study group at Matt’s house.” A string of broken images flutter through my brain. Loud music by the lake. A big fire. Drue and Nixon throwing stones into the water. Trent’s arm around my shoulders as we drank out of Solo cups. Matt standing with Penny while she giggled at Adam’s joke, Adam’s eyes on me the whole time. Amber on a log, making out with some guy from her biology class.

Dale snorts in disgust. “Study group? Don’t you mean the party?”

I nod, wishing I could bring the pieces of my memory into focus. I must know what happened—I
lived
it—but it’s lost in the depths of my mind, floating just out of reach, like an untethered balloon making a break for the sky.

“Nicole? Am I right?”

I’m about to snap at him for making me answer twice, when I remember he can’t see me. “Yeah, the party . . . whatever you want to call it.”

Dale looks serious as he nods and tucks a curl behind his ear. “Okay, so you left Matt’s house and . . .”

“I don’t remember leaving Matt’s house.” I squeeze my eyes shut, willing more images to surface, but everything stays murky, blank.

Dale’s voice is laced with concern. “Why do you think you’re going to die?”

I recall the pain as I awoke in the forest, the blood on my fingertips. I open my eyes. “I’m hurt. I hit my head and my arm is killing me and I think I’ve broken my leg.”

“How do you know that? Can you feel it now?”

“No, I went back to my body.” I shudder. “That’s how I know I’m not dead. I’m down some steep slope, surrounded by trees. Everything hurts. When I tried to move, I blacked out again. I don’t know what to do . . .” My voice shakes as tears threaten once more.

“Shhhh,” Dale whispers gently and I’m surprised by how much I wish he could touch me. “It’s okay. I—” He holds his breath.

His expression is conflicted, and his reluctance is hard to miss, but finally he swallows and nods. “I’ll help you. I will.” He nods again. “Just walk with me to physics and tell me everything you know, okay?”

Dale’s voice is gentle, as if he’s talking to a five-year-old. It’s the most soothing thing I’ve heard all day. A bud of hope blooms inside me as the bell rings and the hourly class transition begins, students flowing from one room to the next in a ritualized dance.

The physics classroom is on the second floor, a corner room with windows on two sides. In one half of the room, rows of desks face a large white board covered with partially erased equations. The other half contains black lab tables with metal stools. Over each table are big signs outlining lab do’s and don’ts.

Dale nods at his fellow seniors Adam and Brody, who are in the front row, then takes a seat at an empty desk in the back of the class. He pulls out a blank piece of paper and writes.

Tell me everything you can see.

“You mean when I’m in my body?”

He nods.

I describe the embankment in as much detail as I can. Dale tries to look like he’s paying attention to Mr. Moffat’s monotone dictation, taking notes like the other students. But every time Dale wants to clarify something, he stops me with a written question.

Are you bleeding?

“Yes, from my head. I don’t know how deep the cut is, though.”

Dale scrawls another question.

What are you wearing?

I can’t help but grin. “Is now really an appropriate time to be getting flirty with me?”

He shoots me a very dry, very unimpressed look. My smile widens. He’s actually pretty cute when he’s annoyed.

“I’m in a skirt, knee-high boots, and a sleeveless top,” I tell him.

In the fall? Aren’t you cold?

“I don’t remember thinking that when I woke up.”

It’s a shame you’re not wearing thermal underwear.

“It’s a shame Marc Jacobs doesn’t make thermal underwear,” I joke. “The only thing I have on under my shirt is a bra and your Granite necklace.”

Our heads both jerk up at the same time. I didn’t mean to tell him that and I’m guessing by his surprised expression that he wasn’t expecting to hear it.

Unnerved by his wide eyes, I snap, “What? You gave it to me to wear, didn’t you?”

He shakes his head and writes,
Do you have a jacket? What do you have with you?

“I’m not sure . . .” I sigh and then notice the bag at my feet. “Wait a sec.” I grab the strap. “I have my bag with me.”

What’s in it? Your phone?

I scramble through it, pulling out a jacket, lipstick, a makeup kit, nail polish, my wallet, and Dad’s American Express. I rummage around each corner of the bag, but come up empty.

“No phone.”

A jacket?

“Yes.”

Next time you go back, cover yourself. Make sure you stay warm and try to get a better idea of your injuries. The more I know, the more I can help you.

“Okay.”

We’re going to find you. Just hang in there.

I swallow the lump in my throat, wanting so badly to believe him. But after everything that’s happened today, I don’t know who—or what—to believe. All I know for sure is this: The people who I thought cared about me are treating my disappearance like a joke. And the one person who should hate me is trying to save my life, whether I deserve his help or not.