Through to You (23 page)

“Ow!” I rub my face.

“Your turn to do the dishes.”

“
JUST LET ME IN
—
THEY WON
’
T HEAR US
,”
I PLEAD
.

Viv leans out the window, silencing me with her full, luscious mouth. She lingers playfully on my lower lip before placing a hand on my forehead and gently shoving me back.

“I told you … they’ve got their lawyer over for dinner tonight. He’ll be here late.” She rolls her eyes, but glances over her shoulder at the door. “I have to go be the obedient daughter.”

I cock one eyebrow. “Since when are you obedient?”

She laughs, but covers her mouth and hushes me.

“We have the place to ourselves all night tomorrow. Mr. Winters is checking in on me Saturday morning, but you can hide. They won’t be back till afternoon.”

“Their
lawyer
is checking in on you? Since when did they get so concerned?”

“Since … you died.” She looks at the ground. “Anyway, it’s no big deal. He’s practically my uncle.”

I sigh, and lower myself from tiptoe.

She leans down to kiss me again, and the view from where I stand is a promise in pink satin. I groan into her neck.

“I’m gonna go take a cold shower.”

She pulls the window closed with a sensuous smile. “It’ll be worth the wait … I promise.”

I walk down the middle of a dark, empty street, trying to shake off my arousal. My body aches for Viv, but in the best possible way, buzzing with anticipation. Friday night never felt so far away. Everything’s going to be perfect now; I know it will.

I make it back to the utility pole, and let my fingers tingle and glow, illuminating the school—
my
school—through a green filter in front of Viv’s. I breathe a silent thank-you, again, for this weird window’s existence and all its strange parallels. Then I push my way toward home.

I’m about halfway through the light when I get stuck. The electricity humming through my skin is so disorienting, I feel around to find the edges of the space I’m in, and they’re a lot closer than I remember—claustrophobic. I turn sideways, find a place where I can poke my hand through, then push and duck until I find my way out. I stumble into the dark, kneel on the sidewalk, and cough. Lingering in there can’t be good for anyone’s health.

“Have trouble fitting through this time?”

I stand up quickly, forcing my eyes to adjust from green light back to night. Nina sits on a rock two feet away, bundled up in a hooded jacket like she’s been waiting there awhile.

“Stay away from me,” I say, and start walking home.

“It’s getting smaller, Cam. I think it’s going to close.”

I stop in my tracks, panic shooting through me … until I realize what she’s doing.

“This isn’t going to work—you just sound desperate.”

She comes toward me, unsmiling. “Maybe I am.”

I step back.

Nina laughs, but there’s no humor in it.

“At first I just assumed I forgot what it was like to squeeze through, but I tried it again tonight, and that thing’s definitely getting smaller.”

“You’re lying,” I say quickly. But something in her voice unsettles me.

She comes close enough that she has to look up at me, and her hood falls back. I expected her face to be blotchy from crying or just being crazy, but her skin is pale and clear, her hair smooth and pretty.

“Don’t believe me?” she asks. “You’ve been coming through a lot more than me … but you might have been too preoccupied to notice.”

I glance doubtfully at the pole. I am in a hurry whenever I’m here. It feels like years since the first time I went through to find Nina. But I remember that experience clearly—I was terrified, but it was easy, like walking through a door. I run my hand through my hair, recalling the last several times I’ve gone back and forth. Times I’ve had to twist, bend, or almost got stuck. I cover my mouth.

“If that thing closes—” She gestures toward the utility pole. “You
can’t
be on the same side with her.”

My mood darkens. She’s only telling me this to keep us apart—to try and take me away from Viv all over again. I lean forward. “You’re. A. Lunatic.”

She closes her eyes and clenches her teeth. “I saw you come through just now—you know I’m right about this!”

I start to walk again, fast, but Nina’s voice cuts into my back.

“It was a blue car,” she says.

I stop.

“The hit-and-run that killed you. They were driving a blue car … just like Viv’s.”

It takes several moments for her words to make any kind of sense in my brain. Finally, an image of Viv behind the wheel flashes through my head so clear, every muscle in my body goes rigid, as if bracing for impact. I want to blink, close my eyes, but I can’t. My own frozen breath swirls white and ghostly through the air in front of me, then disappears. It’s hard to breathe back in.

“How would you know?” I ask.

“Because—I saw it happen. I was on my way to meet you here.” A single tear runs down the smooth skin of her cheek. “And … I didn’t make it in time.”

A tingle runs down my spine, like the fingers of a ghost. I stare at her, waiting for her to flinch. She doesn’t. I glance away, at the corner, and a weight settles in the middle of my chest. Is she desperate enough to make something like this up?

“You’re lying.”

“I never saw her face, only the car—but she found out about us, Cam, she
knew
—”

“Shut up!”

She presses her lips together and just looks at me. I turn away so I can’t see her face, and she can’t see mine.

“There’s a hearing on Monday … I have to tell them what I saw.”

I whirl to face her. “A
court
hearing? For what?”

She takes a deep breath. “To determine whether or not your death was accidental.”

My hands are shaking. I shove them in my pockets, but it doesn’t help.

“Viv would have told me about anything that serious.”

Nina tilts her head. “Would she?”

I hesitate, staring down the street where the pavement disappears into blackness. Even if Viv did hit me, it
had
to have been an accident.

“Look, I didn’t want to tell you any of this, but if you stay—I’m afraid it’ll happen again.”

I ball up my fists. It’s all I can do to speak without screaming.

“It’s not going to happen, Nina, because I’m
never
leaving Viv for you! Get it through your head, we will Never. Be. Together.”

Her voice takes on an edge. “I lost you once already. I know I’m going to lose you again. But if I know you’re safe here, and she’s stuck over there with me—”

“Don’t you
dare
try to keep her from me.”

She stomps her foot. “Damn it, Cam, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

“Accusing Viv of murder? That’s what you’re sinking to?”

She comes forward and jabs her finger at my chest. “
You
were the one telling me how she seems over the top sometimes, how you aren’t sure what she’ll do next.”

“Yeah, right before you threw yourself at me.”

She throws her head back. “Sometimes I forget what an ass you are and mistake you for him.”

I kick the bushes to my right. My knee throbs in protest, as if to mock me further. I point to the corner. “If that thing closes, you can bet I’ll be on this side—with Viv—far away from you.”

I turn my back on her and head down the sidewalk.

“No!” Her footsteps hurry after me. “Look, I don’t know what your Viv was like. Maybe she didn’t get possessive and try to isolate you; maybe without me around she didn’t try to keep you all to herself—”

“Stop it!”

“Just don’t get them confused!”

“Don’t you dare talk about her.” My voice seems small and lost out in the open. I glance automatically to where the shrine used to be.

“I’m sorry,” she says, following my gaze. She wraps her arms around herself and sighs, staring at the pavement. “I couldn’t save
his
life, but I thought I might be able to save yours. I’ve never had a second chance—at anything.”

I feel her eyes on me, but I refuse to look at her.

“I did love him,” she murmurs. “No matter what else you think.”

She turns away and starts walking back to the corner. When she gets to the pole, I watch her reach one hand out steadily until it goes transparent. She slips her arm in, angles sideways, and squeezes through a very narrow shaft of green light.

She doesn’t even look back before she disappears.

This corner is dark and empty. That’s all it used to be, and I realize, all it will be again soon. I walk up to where Nina vanished, and catch the peach scent of her hair. I reach into the darkness, trailing green fingertips through the air. I trace the edges of what once felt like a doorway to forever but now feels like a tiny window about to close.

Nina’s words echo through my mind.

A blue car.

TONIGHT THE DREAM IS DIFFERENT. I
’
M ON THE CORNER ALONE
.
Once again there’s no sound, and I can’t move. Something catches my eye—a figure in the distance. Nina? She’s running and waving, but she can’t seem to get any closer. I try to call out to her, but I have no voice. I turn my head away, glimpse a blur of blue, and am blinded by white light.

I wake shivering in my bed, staring at a black sky. The window above me is wide open. Startled, I close it, and wipe my forehead with my T-shirt. I’m dripping with sweat. I strip to my boxers and burrow back under my blankets, but it’s impossible to relax or sleep.

Not after that dream.

I never asked Viv
or
Nina about the hit-and-run … it seemed straightforward. The person got scared and ran—I assumed they were never caught. But now I’m afraid to wonder. Because Viv’s mentioned regretting bad things that she’s done. And sometimes it seems like she’s running from her world. And sometimes her jealousy seems a lot like fear.

But who could blame her for feeling that way? It was a terrible
accident.

How could Nina suggest it was anything else?

I walk into the shadows at the corner and let them swallow me, making sure the coast is clear in every direction. I’m not taking any chances tonight. There was a football game this evening, but it was away, thank God.

An arctic blast has moved down from the north, freezing everything. It feels like ice crystals are forming in my lungs. My heart races when I reach into the empty, black space next to the utility pole. I exhale as my hand slides into its familiar transparent green glove.

Will this be the last time? Will I get home again—with Viv? I try not to think about it.

I trace the outline of the space with my right hand, taking in the dimensions as best I can. It looks smaller than yesterday, but I can’t really tell. I can’t believe I needed Nina to make me notice it at all.

I glance over my shoulder one more time, but she’s not here. And if she knows what’s good for her, she won’t be when Viv and I come back, either. Because after I sort this stuff about the accident out, Viv and I will leave here, together. I slip one foot through the sliver of pale green light, duck down holding my breath, and squeeze with some difficulty to the other side. Maybe for once it’s good that I don’t weigh what I did two years ago. I let the energy dissipate—even that doesn’t seem to last as long—and I glance around.

My teeth chatter. It seems even colder here, on Viv’s corner. It’s eerie, dark, and alone, the way mine—
ours
—felt at home on the other side. Ours. Soon our worlds won’t be
his
and
hers
anymore. We’ll be together in one place from now on.

Where am I going to
hide
her?

A car revs its engine a street or two away, shaking me out of my thoughts. I tense and wait, but it doesn’t come any closer. A shudder runs through me.
A blue car.
Those three words have haunted me since Nina claimed she saw it happen. I wonder what I was really doing on this corner alone, in the middle of the night. Viv agrees that I—
he
—left her for Nina, and Nina says we were supposed to meet here on the corner....

There is no way Viv was behind the wheel of that car. It was probably a drunk driver. Drunk drivers hit people randomly all the time.

A wind sweeps through my jacket, and I shiver against it.

The hit-and-run that killed you. They were driving a blue car
....

I have to talk to Viv. Now.

By the time I glimpse the glowing yellow light in Viv’s window, I can barely close my fingers to rap on the glass. I cough, trying to free my lungs from this choke hold of winter. The shade goes up, the window opens, and Viv peeks outside.

“Wow, it got cold!” She crosses her arms in front of her.

I forget everything as soon as I get a look at her. Despite the weather where I’m standing, she’s dressed in red boy shorts and a tiny matching camisole that leaves little to my imagination. I blow on my hands. Nothing like getting my blood pumping again.