Wraith (12 page)

They asked questions about "the surfer
guy," too, which I took care to answer a little more vaguely. I really
wished, now, that I’d never mentioned Zane in the first place. I wanted so
badly to tell
someone
the truth about him—but coming close-but-not-quite
was proving more frustrating than satisfying.

Another glider plane sailed overhead, heading for a
landing at Dillingham Airfield across the beach road. The gliders were
surprisingly loud, but since I’d always lived near air bases the ambience
suited me fine. I looked up at the glider just in time to see Zane perched on
the top of the tail. He performed a (rather pathetic) arabesque, then dived off
and plummeted toward land at lightning speed. He stopped himself just inches
from the sand in a dead halt, then relaxed onto its contours with a sigh—as if
he had just finished a hard day’s work.

My eyes rolled. "Were you this much of a
showoff when you were alive?"

His sweat-laden brow (fake of course, but effective)
creased in thought. "Couldn’t tell you. But probably. I was a ham as a
kid, that’s for sure. I distinctly remember posing for surf pictures in Malibu
when I was nine. The flavor of the month was seriously impressed."

"Flavor of the month?"

"My dad’s latest girlfriend," he
explained. "I only visited him a couple times a year, but it was never the
same woman twice. ‘Malibu’ I remember, because she was a surfer herself. Got my
dad into it—talked him into taking me for a lesson. One of the best days of my life,
actually."

His tone turned thoughtful. I relaxed onto my mat
and studied him. With a face and body like his, I was not at all surprised to
hear that his father had been a chick magnet, but it was interesting that he
didn’t sound proud of it. 

"You got along okay with your dad?" I
asked tentatively.

"Oh, sure," he said dismissively. "He
always tried hard to make me like him, when he was around. But he wasn’t really
interested in being a hands-on father. He seemed proud to have a son; he was
generous with the child support. But he had no idea how to deal with a kid.
That’s why he always brought the girlfriends along. Malibu bought me ice cream,
took my picture, told me I would be a great surfer someday. My dad spent more
time watching her in her bikini."

"You noticed that at nine?" I said
skeptically.

He shrugged. "So I was precocious. Dad’s genes,
you know."

He said it without a smile, seeming lost in thought.
I got the distinct impression he wasn’t telling me all that he was remembering.

"Zane?" I asked softly.

"Yes?"

"Have you remembered yet who you are… I mean,
like your name? If you remember that much about your father, I was thinking
maybe you could. Then we could look you up online… find out the rest. Maybe it
would help."

I watched, surprised, as a distinct flicker of
apprehension shot across his face. He turned his head away from me and gazed
out at the ocean. "I didn’t say
everything
was clear," he
responded vaguely. He started to say something else, but stopped himself. After
a moment he turned back to me, smiling again.

"So," he said casually, "What do
Kylee and Tara think about our man, Matt? Did you get the girlfriends’ seal of
approval?"

I blinked at the change of subject. Zane was good at
those. "Well, they only know what I tell them, don’t they?" I pointed
out.

"You didn’t kiss him last night. Why not?"

I blinked again. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. He would have kissed you, but
you stepped back. Why?"

"I thought you were surfing then!"

"No, you didn’t."

He was right. I didn’t. But pretending to be indignant
was more appealing than answering the question. "I’m not going to discuss
that with you," I said firmly. "We were talking about your
father."

"Details of my life, details of yours. What’s
the difference?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You want to hear
about my adventures as a nine year old, fine. You want to know what’s going
through my head when I’m on a date with a guy, you have to give me something of
equal interest."

He smirked. "Such as?"

"Such as… have
you
ever had a serious
girlfriend? Do you like to really dance at dances?"
Thanks for the
material, Kylee
.

His eyebrows rose. "Good questions," he
agreed. "I’d like to know the answers myself. Too bad I don’t. You want me
to guess? Let’s say I had girls hanging all over me all the time, but I never really
fell for any of them, because I’m off-the-charts picky. And I’m an awesome
dancer, clearly. That good?"

"No!" I protested. "You just made
that up!"

"Well, sure," he admitted. "But it’s
probably true. You can’t know it isn’t, can you?"

"Fine then," I blurted. "I didn’t
kiss Matt because he didn’t know I was a dancer."

Zane flipped over on his side and looked at me
intently. "Really?"

I took a breath. I had meant to make something
up—something stupid or funny. Why had I told the truth?

Sheesh, I was pathetic.

"Maybe," I replied, thinking quickly.
"But you can’t know for sure, can you?"

A broad smile slid slowly across Zane’s face,
accentuating his too-cute-for-words dimples. "Touché."

He stood up and made a show of brushing nonexistent
sand off his limbs. "So, where to next? Your wish is my command."

I looked speculatively down the coast in the
direction of Kaena Point, the westernmost tip of the island where mountain slid
straight down to water and killer waves of fifty feet or more were rumored to
break in winter. It was a sort of wild preserve; no paved road led there.
According to Zane, the waves were considered unsurfable because of high winds
and poor rescue access. The latter was significant, as the point also boasted
rip currents like a river and undertows that could pull your shorts off. For
his own purposes, of course, Zane loved the place.

I was feeling adventurous. "Will you take me to
Kaena Point?" I asked eagerly.

I had expected sheer, childish delight. Zane always
got pumped when I showed interest in his waves. But to my surprise, he frowned.

"No," he replied. "That’s not a good
idea."

I stood up in protest. "Why not? There’s a
trail, isn’t there? I have a water bottle. I can hike a few miles."

"I know you could; you’re in great shape,"
he affirmed quickly. But then his tone turned melancholy. "Believe me, if
I were alive, I’d take you in a minute. But I’m not… and I won’t."

I stared at him, confused. "Why not? What
difference does it make?"

He looked away from me, seeming uncomfortable.
"Just think about it. It’s a long hike, the path is full of pits and
rocks, it’s steep in places, and it can be treacherous. It’s the kind of place
it would be really stupid to go alone, which is exactly what you’d be
doing."

"But I—"

"Don’t you get it?" he responded,
frustration breaking through his normally mild demeanor. "What would
happen if you fell and twisted an ankle or something? It could be hours before
anyone else came along—maybe even days. And what could I do? I couldn’t help
you walk. I couldn’t bring you more water. I couldn’t even tell anyone where
you were!"

"I have my phone," I protested.

"And what if you fell in the ocean?" he
continued. "What then? Do I float around next to you and watch you drown?
I don’t think so, Kali. I nearly got you killed once already. I’m not taking
any more chances."

I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came out. I
could tell by his expression just how serious he was. He must have been deeply
shaken by what had happened with the toddler—and I guess I could understand
why. It had made him feel helpless. As much as he had already lost by dying,
that feeling in particular must be salt in an open wound. Much worse torture, I
was sure, than my hypothetically twisted ankle.  

I let out a breath. I was, for the record, perfectly
capable of hiking six miles over rough terrain without fatally injuring myself.
But I would prefer to make the journey with happy and willing company.

I glanced at my phone. "It’ll be lunchtime soon
anyway," I conceded, sitting back down on my mat. "Why don’t you go
out and rip a few more? Then you can take me out to eat in Haleiwa. I think
I’ll try one of those
kalua
pig tacos."

He smiled with relief. "Sounds great."

"You’re buying, right?"

His green eyes twinkled at me. "As
always."

His form dematerialized in a flash, rematerializing
on the nose of a board several hundred yards out over the ocean just as my
phone rang. Expecting a check-in call from my parents, I raised it to my ear
without looking at it. Matt’s voice on the other end surprised me.

"Hey, Kali! What’s up?"

Just admiring the abs on a dead guy.

"Just chilling on the beach," I answered
cheerfully. "And you? Aren’t you in school?"

"Yeah, but it’s lunch," he replied.
"Listen, there’s something I want to ask you. Are you free tonight?"

My heart skipped. I hadn’t been imagining it after
all, had I? As unlikely as it seemed, a really good-looking, athletic guy was
actually interested in me. Not that I had self-esteem issues or anything. I
mean, there was no reason a great guy
shouldn’t
be interested in me. It
just had never happened before.

I pushed the image of Zane forcefully from my mind,
reminding myself, once again, that he didn’t count. Aside from the deadness
thing, I was the only girl on the planet he could talk to... of course he was
going to be interested in me.

Matt, however, had other options. Right?

"Yes, I’m free," I answered, breath held.
"What’s up?"

"There’s this dance at my school tonight—the
Spring Fling. I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. I would have told
you about it yesterday, but I already had a date. The thing is, she’s home
sick—she just texted to cancel. So I thought, I know it’s short notice and
everything, but it would be a great way to meet some people, right?"

My heart thudded against my sternum. It was perfect.
A little too perfect?

I fought off suspicion about the conveniently sick
date. Hadn’t crazier things happened to me in Oahu?

"Sounds great!" I said before I could
think too much. "Are you sure it’s okay to bring in an outsider?"

"Oh, sure!" he replied, obviously stoked.
"Lots of people bring dates from other schools. You’ll get to meet people
from all over. It starts at eight—can I pick you up around seven? I’d ask you
to dinner, too, but I can’t get the car early enough to get out there in time—my
sister has dibs this afternoon."

He sounded genuinely chagrined. I had no doubt he
was telling the truth about the whole situation—broken date, sibling rivalry,
and all. "That’s fine," I assured, smiling to myself. Then a thought
disturbed me.

"Oh, wait!" I asked, my hopes plummeting.
"Is this a formal? Because if it is, I don’t have a dress. I mean—I just
packed for the beach, you know?"

His answering tone was nebulous. "No… it’s not
a formal. I mean, I don’t think it is."

My brow furrowed. "You’re not sure?"

There was a pause. "Well, the guys don’t wear
suits or anything."

I tapped my foot nervously on the sand. "What
do the girls wear?"

Another pause. "Oh, you know. Dresses and
stuff."

I took in a deep breath, fighting images of myself
walking into a gymnasium packed with people I’d never met before, all of whom
were wearing stylish formals… and I was in shorts and a cami with my sports bra
showing. Or, worse yet,
they
were all wearing beach clothes and I
waltzed in wearing a full-length, sequin-studded gown…

I shuddered.

"Matt?" I said tentatively.

"Yeah?"

"No offense or anything, but I really need a
girl to tell me what they’re wearing."

He exhaled thoughtfully. "Yeah, that would
probably be good. Tell you what—I’ll ask somebody and text you. Okay?"

I smiled again—tentatively. "Okay."

"Gotta go now. See you later, okay? This is
going to be fun. Promise."

We said our goodbyes and hung up.

My heart was still racing. I forced in a few deep
breaths. This was good, right? This was just the opportunity I wanted, right?

Crap, I was nervous. Why should I be so nervous? I
liked dances. I could dance just fine—no worries about that. So I was used to
going with a group of girlfriends rather than a date. What of it? Once you got
there, everybody just rocked out in a big circle anyway, right?

Unless they did things differently in Hawaii…

My phone buzzed with a text. I whipped it out and
hit the button. It was from Matt.

Julia says casual dresses, like sundresses, and
nice sandals. That good?

I sighed with relief.

Perfect. Thanx.

I hit send and dropped the phone back down to my
side, the wheels in my head turning rapidly. The nice sandals were no problem.
But I had only one dress, casual or otherwise, and I had worn it last night.

I cast a glance out over the water at Zane. He was
piggybacking on the shortboard of a hotdogger, who was zigzagging through, up,
and over the waves like a skater boy on caffeine.

I wondered how he would feel about some shopping.

The expression on Zane’s face could best be
described as a "pained wince."

"
Shopping
?"

"It’ll be fun!" I cajoled, argument at the
ready. Truth be told, I wasn’t much of a clothes shopper myself, but hanging
with Zane was always fun. We’d had a blast of a morning so far, and the thought
of having no one to talk to while I got psyched about the dance was too
depressing. "We don’t have to drive all the way to Honolulu or
anything," I assured. "I think I can find what I need at the tourist
shops in Haleiwa. You can give me advice!"