First Impression (A Shadow Maven Paranormal) (8 page)

I sit alone in the
Intensive Care Unit and hold Tasha’s hand, but I’ve hardly spoken a word since I got here an hour ago. Mr. and Mrs. Brown have gone to run an errand and get something for lunch to allow us to have “girl time,” but I just don’t know what to say. My mind is running a mile a minute elsewhere.

Jacob took off for his Mini Cooper the moment he heard the news, abandoning Matt there at the hospital. Matt called his father, who happened to already be at the scene of the accident … suicide … whatever they were calling it. I didn’t want to talk about this stuff with Tasha. She needed to hear happy things, normal things, not this.

I clear my throat and steel myself, trying to think of something pleasant—something boy crazy. After a deep breath, I kick my sweetness up a notch and reminisce. “Do you remember the time we followed that guy all around Potomac Mills? He had on a black t-shirt with the word UNCOOL on the back. But it was like an oxymoron, because the guy was about as hot as the midday sun. That’s what you said, right?”

A smile came unbidden to my lips, and the knot in my chest began to unbind. I felt looser, more relaxed as long as I kept talking. By the time Mr. Brown came and rested a hand on my shoulder, I had completely become undone. It was like the knot in my chest was holding me together and when I’d released the tension, I was exhausted. Even though it was only a little after noon, I felt ready for bed.

“Mrs. Brown got you and your friends a couple of sandwiches from Hodge’s Deli. You should go on out to the lounge before the boys eat it all,” he said.

I frowned. Boys? Were Matt and Ben really still here? I shot up from my chair, the adrenaline returning to my system. I stuttered, “Uh…thanks, Mr. Brown.”

I gripped my umbrella and stepped back out into the ICU lounge. Mrs. Brown stood there in a yellow dress. Her hair was pinned up in a classy bun, and her smile was crooked. The boys were snatching a large brown bag between one another like a couple of animals. She smiled as soon as she saw me and held out a smaller brown bag toward me. “Sweetie, I got you turkey and provolone.”

The two boys settled a bit when they each had a
sub in hand. They sat on the opposite sides of the L-shaped lounge chair configuration. In muted brown and orange, the lounge area had large windows that started at waist height and led to the ceiling. A television sat in the corner tuned into ESPN. Matt sat nearest to the TV and watched intently as he bit into his sandwich.

Mrs. Brown gestured for me to sit next to her in the middle. “You really are a dear. Tasha is so lucky to have found a friend like you.”

“I’ve always been the lucky one. Without Tasha, I’d have nobody.”

“Well, I wouldn’t quite say that. I’m sure there are others who want to be your friend, but the two of you always put up this impenetrable barrier around yourselves. You pretty much make it clear that you have each other and don’t need anyone else.”

I shrug and take a bite of my sandwich. I didn’t think I was hungry until I started eating. But then I realize that I’d skipped breakfast. No wonder this is the best turkey and provolone I’d ever had.

Mrs. Brown pats me on the knee. “Don’t spend your whole day here, okay. I don’t want that, and neither would Tasha. Go out and have some fun. The rain is letting up, and you’ve got two friends here who should be doing something other than sitting around in a hospital lounge watching ESPN.”

I glance over at Ben who has already finished his sandwich. He’s leaning back in the lounge chair with his arms across his chest, and his long legs stretched out in front of him. His eyes are closed like he’s asleep, but I wonder if he’s actually listening to the conversation. Matt is completely engrossed in the basketball game on TV. They are so different from each other but have similar olive skin and the same color hair, even if it’s not the same texture.

I let out a long breath, feeling over full and wishing I hadn’t eaten the whole sandwich. “I’ll come back by tomorrow then. Just to give you all a break.”

“I appreciate that, Sweetie. But it’s not necessary. We’re moving Tasha to the pediatric unit in Alexandria.”

I blink hard, and my jaw drops a little.

Mrs. Brown frowns. “Don’t take it the wrong way. The unit in Alexandria is just better equipped to take care of Tasha. And we’ll be closer to her grandparents so that, not only can they visit, but we can be with Kevin every day, too. The doctors will be taking her out of her medical coma in a day or two, and she’ll be waking up and getting back to the real world. Don’t worry about her. She’ll be fine.”

Tears well in my eyes, and I swipe them away. My gaze darts toward Matt, who has stopped watching the basketball game and is facing my direction with a worried expression on his face.

“But…” I start. But what? What am I going to say? You can’t do that because I won’t be able to see her? How will I be able to help if they take her away? Guilt washes over me, and I realize that by coming and seeing her, it has felt like a penance, like I am doing something to help the friend who I couldn’t help otherwise. Now it is being taken away from me, and I understand that this wasn’t really helping Tasha at all. It was only helping me. I nod, resigning myself to the fact that this move is what Tasha’s family needs. I swallow and meet Mrs. Brown’s gaze again. “You’ll text me if there’s been any change, positive or negative? And when she wakes up and can text or talk on the phone, she’ll call me, right?”

Mrs. Brown’s frown turns into a smile. “Of course, Sweetie.”

When I stand from my chair, I find that both Matt and Ben stand with me at the same time. So they were both listening to the conversation?

Matt steps over, runs a hand through his brown hair, and says, “Thank you, Mrs. Brown, for the sandwiches. And I’m sorry about this whole situation.”

“You’re welcome, Junior. Please thank your dad for all he’s doing for us, too.”

He nods. “I will.”

Ben clears his throat. “Yes, thank you, and I appreciate you allowing us to wait here for Chira.”

The tuning fork that is my body hums from head to toe, and I realize that it’s the first time I’d heard Ben say my name. Gooseflesh pops up on my arms, betraying me. I can’t be doing this right now.

Mrs. Brown quirks an eyebrow at me, and I’m afraid she notices my inappropriate reaction. Then I realize that she’s giving me the “he’s a strange one” look. He’s thanking her for letting him wait for me, for hours, in the hospital? “You all have a good day now, okay. And try to do something fun.”

I nod and give her a quick hug. Then I feel empty again, drained as we head toward the elevator. The three of us stand in the metal box, each one of us with a back to a wall. I’m nearest the controls, so I press the button for the first floor.

Matt’s phone beeps, and he checks it. A smirk lifts one side of his lips. His longish sideburns accentuate his boxy jaw line. He’s not exactly short, maybe five-ten or eleven, but compared to Ben’s six-three or four, Matt seems square and stocky. He shoves the phone in our direction with a sad half-smile. “Check it, Magic won. Donnie would have…”

He trails off, his eyes glassy.

The tweet on the screen shows up black and blue against the phone’s white background. And something occurs to me. My stomach drops as we hit the first floor. Before the doors open, I ask, “Wait. Didn’t you say that Donnie had sent out some weird tweets?”

Matt’s brows furrow and he grows serious.

“Yeah,” he says and scrolls through his smart phone. We all step out of the elevator just before the doors shut. In the hallway, we stop and Matt hands me his phone. “See, take a look.”

Ben takes my umbrella from me and peeks over my shoulder, so I keep the phone slightly to the side while I scroll through the last few tweets on his feed.

@DPriceIsRiight – I don’t know if I can take this anymore #TheHauntingContinues

@DPriceIsRiight – The house is empty, but I swear the doors keep opening by themselves #TheHaunting

@DPriceIsRiight – Can’t stop yawning. Noises in the house kept me up. #2DaysNoSleep #Tired

@DPriceisRiight – Had to shut off the ringer on my phone. #TheHaunting

@DPriceisRiight – What’s up with that? #TheHaunting

@DPriceisRiight – The number is disconnected. #TheHaunting

@DPriceisRiight – Holy Shizzle! Just tried to call them. #TheHaunting

@DPriceisRiight – Tried to text the number, but it bounced back undeliverable. #Weird.

@DPriceisRiight – Day 2 of phone malfunctions. #CallingMyCarrier

@DPriceisRiight – Turned my phone off to get some sleep and some weird banging kept waking me up anyway. #Tired #NoSleep

@DPriceisRiight – Phone keeps ringing once and then the dude keeps hanging up. What’s up with that?

@DPriceisRiight – Be sure to check out my video on youtube! #TheHauntingAtTheOldSchoolHouse

@DPriceisRiight – Wanna see a real life, no fakes, ghost? #The HauntingAtTheOldSchoolHouse

“Can we watch the video?” Ben asks over my shoulder.

I scroll down quickly and see that previous tweets were from before the visit to the Old Schoolhouse. Most of them are about sports,
Call of Duty
, or food. I ask Matt, “Do you mind?”

His eyes are wide and sad, but he shakes his head. “Nah, I’ve already seen it.”

I hit the link. My heart sinks immediately as I relive the visit to the Old Schoolhouse step by step and from behind myself. It’s like an out-of-body experience or a nightmare that I can’t escape. The video starts in the strange room with the piano, and Stacy hitting the keys, causing that eerie sound. Déjà vu sends shivers up my spine. Jacob has a flashlight against his face like they do in the movies when one person tries to freak out another. When we get to the kitchen, the ghost looks like little more than indistinct white flickers on the screen. As Tasha rushes past the camera with a scream, I want to reach through the cell phone and grab her to stop her from the inevitable. Then I watch the on-screen version of myself dart after her. Donnie spits an expletive and the video stops. I’m relieved that I don’t have to relive the rest of it, but my chest still aches, and I’m panting.

Claustrophobia closes in, and I just need to get outside. I shove the phone toward Matt’s chest and rush out the emergency entrance doors. I stand in the overhang area and put my hands on my knees. Staying bent, I close my eyes and breathe for a minute.

“Are you okay?” Matt asks, and his hand lightly touches my back.

I shove it away and stand quickly. “I’m fine.”

I swallow hard and look around. This isn’t far enough. I need to get somewhere farther away from all this. Somewhere more open. I can only think of one place that will do. So I run.

The steady drizzle pelts water droplets against my face. My thighs burn, and my feet ache from slamming against the concrete sidewalk in my Sketchers. I dodge the puddles and the few pedestrians out in the rain. But I just can’t seem to outpace the questions swimming in my mind. Was it the ghost? Could this whole thing really be a possession? Had the ghost targeted them?

When I reach the front of Jackson Hall, the rain begins to pour in earnest. Droplets of water cling to my eyelashes, and I swipe them aside. My icy fingers feel as though they might freeze and fall off. I pull one of the great oak doors, but they don’t budge. I try the other, but it’s stuck shut, too. No matter how hard I yank and pull, they just won’t move. Defeated, I realize there isn’t a chance I’ll make it to the roof of the building. It’s Saturday—of course they lock the school.

Suddenly, the rain stops and I look up to see the brown webbing of my umbrella. Ben stands beside me, holding the shield over my head, his panting breaths coming out in white clouds. Water continues to drip from the bill of my ball cap.

Matt splashes through the puddle at the bottom of the stone steps and places his hands on his knees to catch his breath. “Girl, you could probably run cross country. That had to have been like ten blocks!”

They are both soaking wet and as out of breath as I am. “I didn’t expect you to follow me.”

Ben glowers at me. “We had an agreement.”

I swallow. I’d forgotten.

Matt shakes his head. “You both took off. What else was I supposed to do but follow? Why are we here?”