Intrinsical

  “Okay, I’m actually willing to admit that. You aren’t mean-spirited.”

  Brent flashed me a sincere smile. “My cockiness is charming, endearing . . .”

  I nodded piously. “As is your humility.”

  The snow was all melted now, leaving only muddy ground behind. Classes were about to start and my one-time peers were migrating to where they needed to be. I sat down on a stone bench, leaned back on my hands, and tilted my head toward the sun.

  Brent sat next to me and I felt his eyes on me. “What?”

  “You said that you were ashamed of your Waker abilities because you wanted to be normal, but what’s so great about being normal?”

  I closed my eyes seeing the red of the sun through my eyelids. “You, being normal, wouldn’t understand.”

  “Oh, so I’m normal? I can astral project and move things with my mind. Does that sound normal?” It was impossible to miss the sarcasm in Brent’s voice.

  “Well . . . no, but your stuff is cool.”

  “Your stuff is awesome. I think it would be great to talk to ghosts.”

  “Well, you’re currently talking to a ghost and I’m here with you for all eternity, so feel free to talk away.”

  Brent laughed, the melodious sound of it brought a smile to my lips as big as I used to get when I heard the ice cream truck.

  “Seeing dead people isn’t cool. Even if it were, I suck at being a Waker . . . I fought against contacting you . . . I got scared every flipping time I saw a spirit. Vovó never got scared.”

  “Has she ever dealt with a murderous ghost?” Brent asked pointedly.

  “No, but if she had, it would have gone down a lot differently. I should have paid more attention to what she did. If I had, maybe I could have handled this better.”

  “Why didn’t you pay attention to her?”

  The glass door under the schools arched entrance slammed open and Mrs. Piper thudded out. She wobbled on her thin heels as she hurried past us checking her watch. I pretended to be engrossed with her to stall answering.

  Finally I admitted, “It was shame. I totally believed in everything she taught me but it embarrassed me when people laughed at her and me by proxy. When I was a kid I defended her and started more fights than I can count.” My fingers found their way to the scar on my eyebrow. “After a while I stopped because the arguments never changed anything. As I got older, I just wished she would cut it out and pretend to be normal. She knew I felt that way and I think it hurt her.” I let my head loll forward so my chin was resting on my chest. I had barely spoken the words, needing to say them, but not wanting to own them.

  “But if you believed her, why would you want her to pretend she couldn’t see ghosts?”

  “I wanted people to think we were normal,” I confessed in a small voice, feeling like my insides had been carved out with a melon baller.

  “Who cares what people thought?” Brent asked, sounding genuinely confused.

  “At the time, the gossip, stories and stares were horrible. But now it seems so stupid that I cared.”

  I brought my fingers to my lips about to start chewing on them. Brent caught my hand, lowering it. “Nasty habit you don’t want to start.” There was a kindness in his eyes I didn’t deserve.

  “If I hadn’t been so stubbornly stupid, I might have been able to listen when you were trying to reach out. I could have figured out it was you. I mean, some part of me knew it was different. When it was Thomas haunting me, there was a chemical, chlorinated smell, but with you, it was a comforting, alluring scent that—” I bit my tongue, realizing what I had admitted.

  “What?”

  I pulled my hand away, the blood draining from my face. “Nothing. It smelled like you, is all.”

  “And my smell makes you feel comfortable and is, at the same time, alluring? Even when I was alive?” Brent smiled wide. “I knew that new cologne was working for me.”

  I focused on the orange flower that had once belonged to our melted snowman to give my eyes something to do other than look at Brent. “Anyway, as I was saying, I knew it was different. When I was in the shower—” I stopped for a moment and gave Brent a sharp look. “You were in there when I showered?”

  It was Brent’s turn to blush as he pulled on the hem of his sweater. “Yeah.”

  “So you saw me naked?” I asked, my voice cracking.

  Brent shook his head aggressively. “Of course not.”

  “Really?” I arched one eyebrow at him.

  A flush crept up his neck, his face crimson. “Alright, I’ll admit to being tempted—severely tempted, but I waited outside the stall. I’m not a perv.” Brent quickly changed the subject. “I realized something the other day. If I get my body back as you keep insisting I can do . . . you’ll be stuck here all alone. I probably won’t even be able to see you. You missed your shot at heaven and—”

  “It doesn’t matter. We’re getting your body back,” I said, standing up and putting my hands on my hips. “One of us is getting out of here.”

  “What makes you think I’ll be okay leaving you here alone?” Brent stood up and glowered at me.

  “I,” I started but stopped when I noticed a familiar blonde head walking across campus.

  “Cherie!” I laughed and cried at the same moment. I was laughing because it was Cherie, but crying because she was so different from the friend I remembered.

  I was surprised at how emaciated she had become. Her usually creamy skin now seemed chalky. The dark circles under her eyes complimented the hollowness inside them. It looked like some part of Cherie had died with me. She stood at the edge of the sidewalk, hovering, as if making a choice. Her hands were stuffed into the pockets of her black hoodie and twitched nervously. Gathering her courage, she nodded her head as if more determined. She pulled her hood over her messy ponytail like a coat of armor and took a tentative step onto the sidewalk. She began walking slowly, a sharp contrast against her usually quick pace.

  I stepped in front of her, hoping she could see or sense me. She stopped short and for a moment I thought it was because she knew I was there. I smiled hopefully, but her head turned away from me and searched for the window of our old room. With new determination, she began walking again.

  Brent was still where I had left him, watching the whole scene. “Why can’t she see me? Or at least sense me?” I asked.

  “I think she’s in a place emotionally where no one can reach her. It’s like there’s a black cloud surrounding her. She isn’t doing well.”

  “How can I help her?”

  Brent sadly shook his head. “I . . . don’t know.”

  Turning quickly, I followed after my friend until she entered the pool house where I had died. “What’s she doing here?”

  “Confronting her ghosts?” Brent guessed, catching up to me.

  Cherie sat down on a pool chair and leaned her elbows on her knees. I sat down next to her, wishing I could hold her or offer her comfort of some sort.

  She began speaking aloud. “My whole life, Yara, I’ve dreamed about ghosts and adventure. I’ve believed we could make contact with those who have died. And now that I really need to believe it, I can’t.” Cherie looked all around the room and bit her trembling bottom lip. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she didn’t bother wiping them away. “What good does all this belief in ghosts do for me if I’m unable to have enough faith to try to make contact with you? But what if—” She choked back a chest-rattling sob. “—if I try, and I find out you aren’t here. What if you’re gone forever?” Cherie pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes. “It will take away my last hope. I can’t live without hope, but I can’t live like this either.”

  She sat up straight and took a deep cleansing breath, as if ridding herself of doubt. She stood suddenly, trying to keep her newfound composure, and walked to where they had pulled out my body, her face drawn. Minutes passed as she stared at it before bending down and placing three candles on the spot. After lighting them, she stayed cro
uched down. The candles were scented: lavender, chamomile, and another I didn’t recognize. As I inhaled their fragrance, I felt myself relaxing, these were the same candles Vovó used when speaking with ghosts.

  Cherie pulled something from her pocket, a small bottle of liquid. She poured it around her in a large circle. Then swiftly she smashed the vial onto the concrete, shattering it with a loud crash. Tiny pieces of glass flew everywhere. One shard cut her hand and blood oozed from it, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  In a loud commanding voice she called. “Yara Silva, if you’re there, will you come and speak with me. Please.”

  She knelt down and blew across the wet circles she had made. Her breath combined with the smoke from the candles, creating a shimmering, sparkly mist that slowly wound itself together into hair-fine threads of light, which twisted into a glistening rope. It glowed a faint blue as it lengthened itself, swaying from side to side. It was beautifully hypnotic as it slithered, searching for something: Me.

  I could feel it calling for me. I wanted to answer it, but found I had no words. I had little sense of who I was or where I was going. All I cared about was that the rope was coming for me. I tried to move toward it, but was frozen in place with no control of my limbs. I was eager for it to reach me, to possess me, because I knew it was meant for me, at the other end of the rope, someone who loved me was waiting.

  From somewhere far away I could hear a man calling my name. He pulled on my arm and tried to turn my head toward him, but unsuccessfully. All I could do was watch in anticipation as the rope stretched longer and longer, mere inches from me. Finally it reached me, slowly winding itself tightly around my leg and continuing to creep up, binding me in its twine. As it reached my throat I could smell it, breathing it in deeply as my eyes closed. The fragrance was comforting and familiar. I opened my mouth and it slid gingerly down my throat. It was healing the places of hurt and sadness in me. I felt whole. I was aware of it taking root in me, becoming one with me.

  As it lifted me in the air I felt cradled. I continued to inhale the length of the rope until I had swallowed all of it and was gently being set on the ground. One scent stood out from among the others. As my sense of self returned, I recognized it as Cherie’s perfume, Feu et Glace, permeating the air. It was the scent the rope carried and the liquid with which she had made the circle. I opened my eyes and found myself in a blue translucent bubble, and I was not alone. I was with Cherie. She smiled and all the pain on her face vanished.

  She cleared her throat and wrung her hands together.

  “Is . . . is that really you, Yara?”

  “Who else would it be?”

  My question erased her fear. She threw her arms tightly around me and I wrapped mine around her. She didn’t fall through me. It was as if I were made of flesh and bone once again.

  “Cherie,” I cried, “I was afraid I would never see you again.”

  A loud thud made us both jump. We wheeled toward it, grasping hands tightly only to find Brent’s concerned face peering in as he banged on the outside of the bubble with closed fists. I could see his lips moving and calling my name, but he seemed unable to see us. The tension in my shoulders relaxed as Cherie bristled.

  “Br— Brent?” Cherie asked, stepping back, tugging me along with her. “Can he see us?”

  I shook my head. “He is Brent, but not . . .” Cherie looked at me questioningly. I had so many things I wanted to say and I had no idea how long this moment would last. I knew the most important thing I needed to do was to make sure she was okay. “You need to stop looking into the curse, Cherie. You need to let my death go.”

  “Why?”

  I wanted to tell her the truth but I knew if I did, it’d only make her more determined to solve the case. In that moment I knew I was sacrificing others’ lives, other people who might be victims of the curse, to save Cherie’s life, but I didn’t care. “There is no curse. What you call the curse is really just a string of overworked desperate students. As for my death, it was nothing more than an accident. There is no one to blame but me, Cherie.”

  Cherie shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”

  “It was. You need to let it go and move on with your life.”

  Cherie eyed me skeptically. “So, is there a Heaven? Are you an angel?” An image formed in my mind of her balancing on the edge of some great cliff and my words having the power to push her off or pull her to safety. Do I tell her the truth? That I’m stuck between worlds, forced to relive my death every night? No, I decided instantly, I offer her comfort.

  “Yes, I’m an angel. It’s beautiful here.”

  I saw some of the weight lift from her shoulders, and could almost see her take a step away from my imagined cliff. “I’m so glad. I was worried. If you weren’t okay . . . I don’t know . . .” She swallowed hard, and I knew my lie had been the right answer. “So, are you a guardian angel or something? Can I put in an official request to have you be mine?” Before I could answer she continued, “I was so mad at you, Yara. For dying and leaving me alone. But the truth is, I was really mad at myself for that stupid party.” I noticed she was eyeing Brent cautiously as he continued to walk the circumference of our bubble. “I still don’t trust Brent.”

  “Stop it. Stop it right now. I won’t let anyone else take credit for my death. It was a stupid accident. It wasn’t your fault.” I forced her to look at me. I saw her hard blue eyes soften under my scrutiny.

  “Really?”

  “Really.” I let go of her face and she carefully studied the back of her hand trying not to cry. “As for Brent. The guy you see there isn’t him, they just look alike. As your guardian angel, I’m telling you to stay away from Brent. He’s bad news.”

  Cherie sighed with a small grin. “Noted.”

  “Stop pestering him, Cherie. I mean it.”

  She nodded. “Alright.” Her hand went to her pocket and she pulled out my necklace. “Maybe this would have helped, or changed things. Your family was really mad that you took it off. I think you should take it now.”

  I was stunned. “I don’t know if I can.”

  She smiled broadly. “Your grandmother has a few theories about that.”

  “Vovó?” Tears welled in my eyes.

  Cherie nodded. I lifted my hair and bowed my head as Cherie clasped the chain around my neck. I felt a jolt go through me, my balance faltering for a second.

  “Did it help?”

  “I felt something. What did she think it would do?”

  “She didn’t say. Your mom wanted to bury you in it, but your grandma thought this would be better. She said your grandfather wore something like it when he went to school here and that it should be a mandatory part of the Pendrell uniform. He appeared to her in a dream before you started school and said you would need it.”

  My hand flew to my chest. “Really?”

  Cherie looked like she was trying to remember something else. “She mentioned something to your mom that I thought sounded interesting. She scolded your mom for letting you come here. I guess she told them it would be dangerous for anyone in your family, even though your grandpa had used up all the plants to put a barrier around the school. I have no idea what that means. Does that mean anything to you?”

  “My grandpa was the one who put up the barrier?’

  Cherie nodded and raised her eyebrow. “Yeah, that’s what she said.”

  I nodded as my mind absorbed this new information. Had my Grandpa used the last of the pankurem plant to create a barrier meant to trap the evil he knew existed but couldn’t see, making sure no plants remained so that others wouldn’t try leaving their bodies unprotected as their secret society had done? Everything in me screamed yes.

  Cherie dropped her eyes sadly and her little sniffle interrupted my thoughts. “See, it is my fault you died then . . . because I begged you to come to school here.”

  I gave her a forbidding look. “It was not! Do. Not. Ever. Say. That. Again.”

  Cherie looked sheepish
ly happy as she nodded.

  I shook my head and brought myself back to the present. “I don’t know how long we have, but I have to tell you, Cherie, you’re going to be okay. You have to try harder to be all right,” I scolded her without meaning to.

  “I’m trying. I promise I am.”

  “You were always the leader. You were always the strong one.”

  “I was?” Cherie sounded so unsure, so unlike herself.

  I nodded. “Yes. I’ve been following you my whole life.”

  “Maybe I’m only strong when I have you watching my back.”

  I pulled her in for a tight hug, “You are always strong. I love you, Cherie. You’re my best friend—always.”

  “You, too.” She reached for my hand, but instead of connecting, it went through me. She shook her head desperately. “No! It wasn’t long enough. I need more time!” I could hear the hysteria creeping into her voice.

  “Just remember, you need to cause enough trouble now for both of us. I love you.” There was an ear shattering pop as our bubble burst. The force of it threw me back and I collapsed on the floor. I shook my head, dazed.

  Brent was instantly by my side, his face still strained with worry. I sat up, feeling dizzy.

  “You vanished. I was afraid I had lost you,” Brent said, his voice ragged. “I had no idea what had happened and I was afraid I’d never see you again.” Brent leaned toward me and rested his forehead against mine, breathing deeply, his eyes glistening with more moisture than normal. “I’ve never felt so alone. It was like I had lost . . . Yara, I . . .” he stopped, closing his eyes.

  I could feel the blackness and emptiness the incident had caused in him, surprised by its intensity. He lifted his hands to my cheeks, opening his eyes and staring into mine. Something unspoken passed between us, creating an intimacy that hadn’t been there before. A gush of warmth spread through me. My dead heart did a little flip in my chest as I gazed into Brent’s eyes; they were liquid, like melted chocolate, full of unspoken promises I could almost hear. His minty breath was warm on my face, his thumb traced my bottom lip as he leaned in closer.