Wraith (14 page)

I quickly pulled my cell phone back out of my
pocket, hoping she had not seen me talking into thin air. She probably thought
I was nuts already, as indecisive as I was being over one stupid dress.

"They’re no help," I admitted. "They
can’t agree." I stole a look at Zane. "I think I’ll try both dresses
on just one more time."

The sales lady’s smile didn’t waver, but her eyes
glazed. "If you ask me," she said smoothly, "I think you should
wear the red. It’s more… sophisticated."

I faked a smile back. The woman meant well, I was
sure. But somehow, I couldn’t take to heart the fashion advice of a
middle-aged, transplanted New Yorker who wore fake eyelashes and had lipstick
on her teeth.

"One more time," I insisted. "Then
I’ll know."

I whisked both garments back into the dressing room,
throwing Zane a distinct "stay put" look as I went. I tried each on
and came out briefly, whispering for him not to say anything until he’d seen
both. The whole time he leaned against the wall without moving, arms crossed
over his chest, his expression inscrutable.

"Okay," I said, emerging at last in my own
clothes, one dress in each hand. "I know I’m boring you to death, but I
really do need help, here. And you’re a guy."

His eyebrows lifted. "Oh, so
now
I’m a
guy?"

"You know what I mean," I insisted.
"Which one looks better?"

He let out a sigh, then considered a moment.
"Looks better to who?"

My forehead creased. I started to answer the
question, then realized it wasn’t so simple. Was I more worried about Matt, or
about the girls I was about to meet?

To my surprise, Zane started laughing.
"Seriously, Kali," he chuckled. "Do you realize you look more
miserable than I do?"

He stood up and faced me squarely. "Look, you
want my opinion? Here it is. The guys are going to ogle you either way—deal
with it. What the girls like, no mortal being could possibly predict. So how
about you just grab the one
you
like, and we get back to the beach
already?"

As I looked into his smiling, now familiar face, his
warm, sane voice spread through me like a calming drug.

Yes,
I thought to myself.
Why didn’t we?

Within ninety seconds, I had hung the red dress back
up on a rack, hastily paid for the yellow (which was
my
favorite, thank
you very much), and swept us both back out into the sunshine.

"How was that?" I asked proudly.

"Excellent," he responded, leading me back
towards the car. "Glad I could be of service. Sorry I lost track of you
earlier, though."

My steps slowed. "You didn’t have to worry
about me," I insisted, remembering how disturbed he had seemed. "It’s
not like I was lost."

His expression turned thoughtful. "You weren’t,
no."

We walked on in silence for a while, taking a detour
into the street to get around the long line of Asian tourists waiting patiently
for shave ice at Matsumoto’s. 

An unusually brisk wind kicked up suddenly, whipping
some paper trash in cyclones around our ankles. Zane looked up at the sky.

"Surf report was right, I guess," he said
gloomily. "The rest of the day’s not going to be any good. Too much
wind—chops up the waves. I guess I could try sailboarding, though. Or kite
surfing, if I can find anyone out. Maybe at Kailua—"

"You’re not coming with me to the dance?"
I said without thinking.

He turned and looked at me curiously. "Well, I
mean… three is a crowd, right? Or do I not count as a guy again?"

An uncomfortable ache rippled through my middle. He
was talking half in jest, as he always did, but I could feel the pain behind
his words. Alive or not, he was still capable of feeling. He had lost
everything he’d ever known, including his physical self, with no consolation
except his precious, endless waves and—quite pathetically—me. And all I did was
make things harder on him.

"Zane," I said earnestly, halting my
steps. "I didn’t mean that. I mean… of course you count. Whatever you are
in the cosmic scheme of things, you’re very real to me."

His expression softened. "Thanks, Kali. But you
don’t have to invite me along on your dates just because you feel sorry for me.
I managed with no one to talk to before I met you, I can manage again. You need
your space."

We walked on in silence for several paces as I
considered the evening in store. It didn’t take me long to realize that every
happy scenario I’d been playing out in my head, Zane had been a part of. I had
assumed his presence without thinking—without ever questioning that he would
want to be with me. Imagining the event without him now seemed hollow. 

But what I was expecting of him was totally
selfish—and it wasn’t fair. Even if we were just friends, how much fun could it
be for him to watch me enjoying myself with Matt—doing all the typical teenage
things he could never do again?

All of a sudden, I felt totally rotten.

I dragged my feet another half block, then noticed
that Zane looked equally melancholy.
How about that honesty thing?

"Zane," I piped up quickly, hoping not to
lose my nerve. "You can do whatever you want, but the truth is, I want you
to come along. And not because I feel sorry for you. I
do
feel sorry for
you—I’d be a total jerk if I didn’t. But I want you to come because I enjoy
your company, and if you don’t come, I’ll miss you. But I realize that’s
totally selfish of me, and I don’t want you to come just because I asked you
to." I paused for a breath, my heart racing. "Am I making any
sense?"

He stopped and smiled at me. It was the worst one he
had—the one that did funny things to my stomach and screwed up my knees. I had
thought I was getting immune to it. I was wrong.

"You make perfect sense," he answered.
"And as long as we’re being honest, I’ll tell you this. I want to go.
There’s no place I’d rather be tonight."

My eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really," he assured, still smiling.
"But I don’t want to intrude, either. If it won’t make you feel too much
like you have a stalker, I’d prefer to stay out of your way—where you can’t see
me. Would that be all right? If you ever
want
to talk to me, though,
just call. I’ll be there."

My cheeks flushed. He was being entirely too sweet
to me, and I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t think, I just reacted. I wanted to hug
him. My arms flew around his shoulders, my weight shifted onto my toes. The
shock I felt at my body’s meeting not the expected warm, solid chest but
instead a total absence of resistance—punctuated with a near audible buzz of
vibration—was startling. Equally startling was the realization that, without a
swift save, I was about to land facedown on the pavement.

Being a dancer had its benefits. I caught myself in
time, throwing out a foot and regaining my balance in a way that looked to
passersby—I hoped—like I had simply tripped. But my face was red as a beet.

"Are you okay?" Zane asked with concern.

"I’m such an idiot," I blathered, barely
able to look at him. "I just totally forgot. I’m so sorry."

His answer came as a ragged whisper, so soft I could
hardly hear it.

"So am I."

I was ridiculously, insanely, pathetically nervous.
More so than when my date to homecoming in ninth grade called me three hours
before the dance to say that he had just "come out" to all his
friends and was wondering if I would mind if he took his boyfriend instead. (I
didn’t, really, once I got over the shock.) I was more nervous than when I got
talked into asking a minor crush of mine to the sophomore Sadie Hawkins dance,
knowing full well he already had a girlfriend at another school. (He had said
no—right there in the middle of the cafeteria. I was mortified.) I was even
more nervous than I had been when, three-fourths of the way through last year’s
semiformal, I had discovered something green and leafy stuck between my front
teeth. (Kylee swore that it had not been there the whole night, but I knew darn
well people had been looking at me funny since dinner.)

This was worse.

"Come on, Kali," Matt said encouragingly,
his blue eyes twinkling. "They’re going to love you. I promise."

My eyes roved warily over the front lawn of
Frederick High. The troubled boy was headed for the imaginary flagpole again,
but I didn’t see the smoking girls, and the dozens of living people that buzzed
about exuded more than enough positive energy to give the atmosphere an excited,
hopeful, almost frenetic air.

I was still nervous.

Matt let out a chuckle and took a few steps back to
where I stood, effectively paralyzed, by the side of his car. "If you
really hate it, we’ll leave," he assured, "but you’re not going to
hate it. You’re going to meet some people you really like—you’ll see." He
wrapped his muscular arm around the length of mine, took my hand, and propelled
me forward.

"You’re right," I responded, my voice
giving a betraying quiver. I cleared my throat and steadied it. "I’m
excited to be here, really… I’m just a lot more nervous than I thought I would
be."

"Yeah, I can see that," he answered
merrily, swinging my arm as we walked. My traitorous feet tried to dawdle, but
Matt’s steady pull kept us going.

"Sorry," I offered genuinely. "I’ll
try not to be too much of a drag on your evening."

Matt looked back at me with a smile. His smile was
neither as magnetic nor as mesmerizing as Zane’s, but it was friendly and
honest. "Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that," he said lightly, eyes
dancing. "Nothing’s going to ruin my evening."

He squeezed my hand, then continued to propel us
both forward toward the open double doors of the gymnasium. As we neared them,
my heart pounded, and I realized with some amount of shock that I had been
unconsciously moving closer to his side.

"Matt!" shouted a short, blonde girl who
was stationed at the doors taking tickets. She was slightly overweight, but
dressed very attractively in a tie-dyed aquamarine sundress that emphasized her
striking blue eyes.

"Hey, Lacey," he answered amicably. I
loosened my hold on his hand, giving him the option of dropping it. He
responded not only by readjusting his grip, but by throwing in an added thumb
caress on the back of my hand. "You look nice," he praised the girl.
"Gorgeous dress!"

She smiled widely, showing perfect teeth.
"Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself, macho man." She turned to
me, her expression pleasant, albeit slightly puzzled. "Hi, I’m Lacey. Have
we met?"

"This is Kali," Matt answered for me.
"She’s from Wyoming, just visiting for a week. But she’s moving here this
summer—her dad’s going to be working with mine on the base."

"Cool!" Lacey answered with enthusiasm.
Our eyes met, and a large degree of my nervousness evaporated. "What do
you think of Oahu?"

"I love it," I said without hesitation.
"Matt’s been a great tour guide."

"I’ll bet," she said with a chuckle, still
looking at me. "Catch up with me later and I’ll give you the real story.
About something other than water polo."

"Hey!" Matt protested good-naturedly,
"I showed her La'ie Point and Chinaman’s Hat and everything!"

Lacey's eyes rolled. "While
talking
about water polo?"

I laughed out loud. A few people had come up behind
us, and Lacey moved to take their tickets. "I’ll find you later," she
said conspiratorially, offering a wink.

Matt steered me through the doors and inside, but
before he could say anything more we were bombarded by shout-outs from what
appeared to be his cheering section. Multiple voices, both male and female,
chorused his name as I plastered a smile on my face and hastily scanned the
crowd.

First off, my outfit was okay. There were a few
girls in shorts, but the vast majority were wearing sun dresses, and no one was
in a formal. The guys were a mixed bag, wearing everything from nice tee shirts
to polos to button-down shirts, with any manner of shorts and shoes. Hawaiian
prints were not considered too touristy, as I had halfway feared; at least half
the kids were wearing them. But "party-store luau," the atmosphere
was not. The smallish gymnasium was tastefully decorated with nothing but
bright-colored table cloths and a few, well-placed clusters of fresh cut
flowers.

Perfect
.

Second, much to my delight, I could see that these
people knew how to dance. In my high school, it would take a good hour before
any significant number of people hit the floor. This party was only just
starting, and at least half the attendees were already burning it up. Despite
my nervousness, my feet began to itch.

"Hey, everybody," Matt announced over my
shoulder to whomever was within earshot. "This is Kali. She’s just
visiting from Wyoming, but she’s moving here in June. I’m trying to convince
her to come to Frederick, so everybody talk it up, okay?"

A dozen or so friendly faces responded from the
dance floor with a smile and a wave, while two couples standing nearby stepped
closer to greet us.

"Does that mean we can’t tell her about the dog
burgers?" laughed a tall, skinny guy with a streak of bright purple in his
otherwise dark hair.

"David!" a freckled redheaded girl
chastised as she smacked her date on the shoulder. "Shut up about
that!" She smiled at me. "I’m Julia. Nice to meet you."

Recognizing the name from Matt's text, I thanked her
for the what-to-wear tip. She was wearing a beach dress herself, very similar
to mine.

"I’m Madison," said a pretty, dark-skinned
girl with long black hair. If I had had to guess, I would say she looked Asian,
whereas David looked more traditionally Hawaiian, but I couldn’t tell for sure,
nor did I really care. "It's good to see you," Madison said with a
grin. At lunch we thought Matt was just making you up."