Ether (12 page)

            For the
rest of the class, I only pretend to do the work while I covertly watched
Mandy. Over the course of the hour a little more colour comes back into her
cheeks and the fevered look leaves her eyes. She stops rubbing her hand but a small
puckered mark had risen on it that looks like she’d been scalded.

            At the end
of first period the P.A. system crackles to life, requesting that all the
students assemble in the auditorium. Mandy rolls her eyes and groans with the
rest of us at the prospect of another assembly. By the time we’re in the
hallway she’s starting to chatter at about half her normal rate of speed.
Suddenly she puts a hand to her face, “Ug. Becka, I totally spaced this
morning. I didn’t even put on make-up. Save me a seat will you? I have to do
some damage control.” Before I can answer she darts for the nearest bathroom. I
take a quick step in her direction, until I catch a glimpse of Justin’s bright
blond hair weaving through the crowd, and beside him, Matt.  I have a momentary
of tug of war inside me. Mandy, maybe possessed, versus Matt, definitely
possessed. Who needs my help more?

            I pivot,
winding through the crowd toward them. I lot of things in my life have started
to feel like a lie. Sitting in the auditorium next to Matt and Justin, saving a
place for Mandy I’m repeating actions I’ve done dozens of times before but now
they are just make believe. Matt has made sure Justin is between us, and there’s
no way I can reach him without throwing my body across Justin. I’m considering
it. I cast a sideways glance at Justin, who still won’t make eye contact with
me and catch Matt’s eyes instead. He tilts his head toward me and says in a
stage whisper, “Wasting your time, I just don’t think he’s into dead people.” 

            I see
Justin flinch, giving him a startled look. Nothing about what Matt said sounded
right. Matt is sweet and comical. The bite in his words and tone must have
sounded off to Justin. I have a sudden, dangerous impulse. Could I actually
goad him into revealing himself in front of Justin? “Well, I’m not as dead as I
used to be. I guess that’s something we have in common.” I retort.

            He laughs
humourlessly. “Maybe you’re not as dead as you used to be, but you’re not as
alive as you used to be anymore are you? Me on the other hand, I’m more alive
with every passing moment.”

            Justin is
looking between the two of us, confused by the hostility between us but still
avoiding talking to me. I smile at Matt, all sweetness. “Not for long.” I shoot
my hand across Justin and made a grab for him. My fingers graze his arm as he
thrust himself backward, flinging his whole body into the chair beside him. I feel
a snapping energy arch into him and hear a sizzle.

            He’s
clutching his arm but he’s beyond my reach. “Bitch,” he snarls at me.

            “So I can
hurt you. Good to know.” I give him my best cocky smile, “you’re right, we are
going to have fun together.”  Inside my stomach’s twisting into bitter knots
but I feel the expression of arrogance on my face and know I’m pulling off a
convincing performance.

            His eyes
darken to pitch black. “I’ll be sure and pass that along
etherite.”
He
spits the last word at me and stands, just as the lights dim. The principal steps
up to the podium and announces we’ll be having a drug and crisis awareness
assembly. A collective groan rises from the crowd. No one is surprised, these are
pretty standard responses to any unusual events and we’ve had plenty of those
lately.

            In the
darkness Matt slips away. I know Justin’s burning with curiosity about our
fight. Maybe he even realizes what’s happening. I can only hope.

            The usual
panel of counsellors and anti-drug officers start their talk. No one listens
much in the best of times, and I don’t listen at all. Ephraim appears on my
right, so faint and shimmery that I know I’m the only one who can see him. He’s
trying to talk to me, but I can’t hear him over the speakers and the multitude
of whisperings, squirmings and shiftings that make up the normal assembly
background noise. I try reading his lips but, other than being distracted with
how soft and smooth they look, I can’t understand him.

I
take a chance and hiss, “I don’t understand. What’s wrong?” He opens his hands,
turning his palms up, a sign that means absolutely nothing to me.

            Justin
shifts in his seat, gapping at me, “You don’t know what’s wrong?” he asks incredulously.

            There aren’t
a lot of ways to answer, so I ignore him and concentrate on my surroundings. I’m
listening with that other part of me; the part that can hear faint noises and
sense spirits. At first there is nothing, and then I hear it, a desperate
gasping sound.  

            A girl about
ten rows in front of me is wheezing, her body rocks back and forth as she
struggle to breeze. Her lips have turned icy blue and she has white lines
forming around her mouth. “Shit,” I say, leaping to my feet.

            I scramble
past the people in my row, knocking knees and hitting the backs of heads in my
haste. I take the steps two at a time as I pelt toward her. I have to climb
over her neighbours who sit placidly listening as she asphyxiates right in
front of them.

            I’ve had
enough first aid to know the procedure. She’s conscious so either she’s choking,
asthmatic or having an allergic reaction. I grab her shoulders, preparing for
the next step, whatever it is.  As soon as I touch her skin, I feel something
deep and twisted writhing around inside her. Part of me lashes out at it,
shooting a pulse of ethereal energy into her. She gasps and rocks back from me,
but I hold on. A surge of power chases the darkness in her, driving it back. Mentally
I push at the dark thing, trying to fling it away from us.

            Her body
bucks under my hands and she takes a shuddering breath, and then another. Her
eyes open and slowly center on me. Time has distorted in that strange way it
does in a crisis. While we’ve been locked in a life and death struggle the rest
of the auditorium has passed only a few stunned seconds.

            Chaos explodes
in the auditorium. Teachers and students leap to help, but even as they start
to move more howls erupt and a few students drop to the ground writhing and
clutching parts of their bodies.

            I pivot on
the spot, looking back down the length of my row. Two girls from my row, and
one from the one in front, all kids I’ve bumped into on my way to help this
girl are screaming and rolling like they’ve caught fire and are trying to
quench the flames.

            I look back
at the girl in front of me, and see that the colour is returning to her cheeks.
My hands start to tremble so I let them drop away from her. I push back, trying
to put distance between myself and the thrashing kids but now I can’t move
without touching others and every few times I touch someone they recoil, scream
or drop flailing to the floor. I push faster and harder, not caring who I hit
as long as I can escape the turmoil.

            A rolling
sea of chaos erupts around me. Inhuman wailing sounds against the walls and
reverberates like a hurricane siren. People scramble away from the convulsives,
shoving, pushing and scrambling away, carrying me in a wave with them. I battle
to keep my feet, holding my arms out, knocking people away from me, but
everywhere I turn a moving wall of bodies closing on me, “Ephraim help!” I
scream.

            The lights
in the auditorium flicker and dim, sending us all into twilight. The sprinklers
hiss and spring to life. A deluge of water pours down on us. The screams break
off; drown out in the rain as students start throwing sweatshirts over their
heads and streaming towards the exits. The crush of the crowd eases away from
me. I tuck my hands into my pockets, kept my head down and head for the nearest
exit, putting as much distance as I can between me and the half dozen moaning
bodies still lying on the auditorium floor.

            I slip outside
into the cold, white fog that has settled over the school. As people spread
out, their lines become blurry and indistinct. It’s easy for me to slip away
from the crowd. I spot the large blue dumpsters just beyond the rear entrance
and creep between them and the wall. My hands against the cold metal I brace
myself, easing down to the concrete. It’s a small space and I am tucked tightly
into it, no one will notice me here.

            I put my
head on my knees and squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t want any of this to be real
anymore. I want it all too just go away. A warm arm wraps around my shoulders.
I lean against Ephraim, my eyes still shut. His arms tighten around me and he hold
me silently. I don’t know how long we sit like that; long enough for the chills
to leave my bones, not long enough for the shock to wear off. Finally I say,
“Matt’s right isn’t he? I’m never going to be the same as I was before.”

            I hear a sigh
beside me, “Firstly, that’s not Matt. Second, yes, you’re different now but
you’re completely alive. He’s trying to twist you up and confuse you. You
shouldn’t listen to the things they say to you.”

            I ball my hands
into fists and then open them stretching the palms out. I feel a kind of
vibration in them that tugs me a little to my left, towards Ephraim. “I might
be alive but I’m not human anymore, am I?”

            I lean
closer and touch his palms against mine. His voice is husky when he answers.
“Not completely. I changed both of us. Our energies are intertwined. I’m a
little bit human and you; you’re a lit bit Ethereal. It’s the only way to cross
back into this world. Human spirits can’t return to your plane, it’s a one way
journey. I’m sorry.”

            I open my
eyes and realize he’s incredibly close to me. I’m looking right into his eyes,
our hands still pressed together. “I told you not to apologize for saving my
life Ephraim.” He starts to smile but I shake my head. “You want this to be
okay? Changing me forever into something other than human? That’s only okay if
my friends, my family and my whole world doesn’t pay the price for me.”

            “They
won’t,” he promises. 

            Justin calls
my named through the fog, he sounds near. I push my hands against the metal
dumpster and forced my way to a standing position. Before I can step out from
the dumpsters, Ephraim grips my hands tightly. “Don’t. Don’t go back in there,
it’s not safe.”

            I smile
grimly at him, “I know. They have Matt. They could take Justin or Mandy next. I
won’t just leave them.” I step away from him, emerging into the milling throng
of students. Ephraim trails me and he’s still solid and visible.

            “Becka!”
Justin rushes halfway toward me, before he remembers we’re fighting and stops
short, grimacing. “You okay?”

            “I’m fine.”
Ephraim steps up beside me and Justin’s eyes shift to him. I clench my teeth,
resisting the urge to say all manner of mean spirited and self-righteous things.
That would probably only make things worse between us. Instead I gesture to
Ephraim. “Justin I’d like you to meet a completely imaginary, figment of my
deranged imagination, Ephraim. Ephraim, my oldest and truest friend, who thinks
I’ve lost my mind, Justin.”

            Ephraim smiles
a bright, heart stopping smile that makes me regret my sarcastic tone and
unkind thoughts. He extends his hand to Justin, who responds automatically.
They almost shake hands but Justin’s hand slips through Ephraim’s like he’s a holographic
projection. “Sorry about that,” Ephraim says to Justin, “Good to meet you.”

Justin
stares down at his own hand, then back at Ephraim.  He shivers violently. His
hair is slick and wet from the sprinklers, his shirt clings to him and goose
bumps stand out all along his arms.  But I doubt any of that is causing his
shivering, he’s looking at Ephraim like he’s just seen a ghost. I shiver too,
without Ephraim’s touch, the fog’s chill wraps around me and seeps into my
bones. I take Ephraim’s hand and let his spring-day sunshine rush into me. 
“Come on Ephraim,” I say, nodding to Justin as we leave. “Justin.”

You’d
think a riot, multiple seizures and the sprinklers being set off would have
earned us at least a half day off, but it doesn’t. I think the administration
is worried we’ll rush home and tell our parents before they can do damage
control, although maybe that’s just me being cynical. They probably also think
school is the safest place for us all right now. They have no idea how wrong
they are.

So
I suffer through Spanish and I limp through laps in gym rather than going to
the library. With all the things that have happened I’m starting to feel a lot
safer in a crowd. I don’t see anything more of Matt, and I can’t say I’m sorry
about it. I haven’t got the first idea what to do for him. It’s one thing to
decide you’re going to save someone, a whole other thing to actually do it.

When
I don’t appear for study hall my phone vibrates at me. I wait until I’m at the
far side of the gym from Couch T and surreptitiously slide my phone from my
pocket. It’s a text from Justin. It says simply
I believe you. Can we talk
after swim practice?

 The
little sick feeling in my stomach steadies. I haven’t admitted it to myself but
fighting with Justin has been the worst part of all this. I need his support, I
always have. I text him back right away, and stir myself up enough to jog a few
paces. Immediately Couch T’s voice booms out, “Cut that out Pierce. No running.
You’ll addle your brains.” I slow. I don’t know about my brains but my leg’s
killing me.