Red is for Remembrance (23 page)

"You have . . . more than you know."

She leads me out to the hallway. The basement door is wide open now, my sneaker sitting and waiting for me on the floor.

"Can you just answer one question for me?" I ask.

She nods, somewhat reluctantly. "Just one."

"Why is Porsha dreaming about this boy on the Cape? What is her connection to him? What is her connection to me?"

Jessica smiles. "I'm surprised you haven't already figured out the answers to some of those questions."

"How would I?"

"By using your intuition-- what you've learned, what you sense in your heart to be true. Why do you think
you're
connected to Jacob?"

"Why do I think I
am
connected to him?" I ask, noting how she chose to use the present tense.

"So he isn't on the other side? He's still alive?"

"I said I'd answer only one question."

"But you haven't answered anything, really."

"I have to go." Jessica looks down at her watchless wrist. "I keep forgetting that time doesn't exist on the other side. Oh, well." She shrugs and turns in the opposite direction of 258

the exit door, toward the blazing light at the end of the corridor. Her wheat-blond hair blows back from the intensity of the glow. She stops just inches from the light and turns to me-- a little girl again, like when I first met her. She waves to me, a bright and contagious smile across her ten-year-old face.

I wave back, watching as she turns around and continues into the light. I turn away, too, eager to find my way back upstairs.

But I'm no longer in the basement. I'm at the beach. The tide is coming in, bringing with it a new sense of hope. I sink down into the sand, breathing in the warm, salty air, feeling the sun blaze down over me. The waves roll in and crash against the surf, just a few yards from my feet. After several seconds, I notice something in the water. It bobs up and down a couple seconds before surfacing completely. I stand and clasp my hands over my mouth, watching the figure swim toward the shore-- toward me.

Jacob.

I'm trembling all over. "Is it really you?" I gush.

He nods and I run to him, half-crying and half-laughing-- trying to catch my breath. "I love you,"

I whisper in his ear.

Jacob sweeps me up in his arms and I feel more complete than I ever thought possible.

A couple moments later, I wake up with a gasp-- in a sweat. Amber's cell phone is vibrating in the pocket of my jeans. "Hello?" I say, scrambling for the volume.

"Hi, Stacey? It's me, Porsha. Are you okay?"

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Still trying to catch my breath, I tell her that I am okay, noticing the lingering sense of hope in my heart. "How are
you?"
I ask. "Did you have another nightmare?" I sit up in bed and glance at the clock. It's 3:15 in the morning.

"I need you to come right away," she says. "The spell worked. I know where the boy is."

260

During the ride home from the shopping trip, during his late afternoon chores, and all through dinner, Shell can't stop thinking about the girl he met in the grocery store-- about what she said to him and how she drew that X on her neck with her finger, telling him that someone was looking for him.

Shell knows it must be someone from his past-- his soul mate-- only he doesn't know who she is.

He sits back in bed,

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smothering his head in the pillow, frustrated with his own mind, with why it's keeping things from him. Why is it that he's able to remember his uncle, but he isn't able to remember his one true love?

He lets out a giant sigh and then releases the pillow to his lap with a plop. The subtle noises stir Brick, who turns over in bed and peeps an eye open. When he notices that Shell is awake, he sits up in bed. "Why aren't you sleeping?" Brick whispers.

"Sorry I woke you," Shell says. "I have a lot on my mind." Shell thinks how ironic the statement is-- since his mind is the thing that's failing him.

"Hey, was anyone in here earlier?" Brick asks, rubbing at his sleepy eyes. "Lily or Daisy, maybe?"

"No, why?"

Brick shrugs and then laughs at himself. "Must have been dreaming. I could have sworn I heard a girl's voice whispering in my ear."

"Whispering
what?"

Brick shrugs again. "She just kept asking me where I was."

"Did you answer?"

"I think I did. I think I said Brums, but I'm not sure. You know what's weird, though?" Brick says, chuckling. "She kept calling me by my real name."

"Your
real
name?"

"Yeah, you know, my pre-community name, the one I had before I came here."

"Which is?"

"Trevor." Brick lets out another chuckle. "Not as cool as Brick, is it?"

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"It suits you," Shell says, taking the information in. "I wonder if it means something . . . the voice you heard."

"Come on," Brick moans. "Tell me you haven't dreamt about girls before. If I hadn't been so rudely awakened, maybe my dream could have had a happy ending."

Shell laughs. "Let's not go there."

Brick reaches under his bed for Shell's pentacle rock. He gives it back to him and then sits at the foot of Shell's bed. "So why
are
you up? What's bothering you?"

Shell shrugs, reaching under his bed for a red candle. He snuck it from the kitchen at dinner, while everyone was cleaning up.

"What's that for?" Brick asks.

"Remembrance."

"Seriously?"

"My uncle taught me the meaning of candle colors."

"You really want to remember more about your past, don't you?" Brick asks.

Shell nods, glancing over at the empty beds in the corner, where Oak, Teal, and Horizon usually sleep. "Where are they tonight?"

"Punished. They're sleeping in tents outside."

"It's got to be ten degrees out at best," Shell says.

"Blame it on Clay."

"Why, what did they do?"

"They were making fun of him during chores, I guess. They were supposed to be peeling potatoes, but they were playing around, imitating him-- his nasally voice, his hunchback posture, and the way he's always narrowing his eyes at everybody." Brick squints his eyes extra hard to demon

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strate. 'Anyway, he walked in from behind and saw the whole thing."

"That sucks."

'At least it won't happen to us." Brick grins.

"Why not?"

"I told him I knew about what happened on trading day, how he stole the jewelry from Rain's table." Brick smiles, the tiny gap between his two front teeth barely visible. "I did it right after dinner while I was clearing the plates . . . just a few feet from Mason. You should have seen Clay's face." His grin widens.

"Did Mason hear you?"

Brick shakes his head. "I doubt it."

"Why would you do that? Do you know for a fact he's the one who took it?"

"I do
now.
The scab didn't deny it."

"You shouldn't have done that."

Brick shrugs. "I'm sick of him controlling my every move. At least
this
gives me a little leverage; I don't have to be afraid of him anymore."

Shell nods, but he has his doubts. "What if he makes things more difficult for you now?"

"No way," Brick says, raising his eyebrows and grinning. "He already told me that he wants to set some time aside tomorrow so we can talk-- just the two of us."

"Alone?" Shell asks, remembering the words from his nightmare.

"Naturally," Brick shrugs. "He said we should
discuss
a couple things . . . I'm thinking he wants to let me in on his looting .. . you know, so I won't say anything. Either that or 264

he wants to give me a little more clout, make me a big shot around here. What do you think of that?" Brick hikes up the sleeve of his T-shirt to flex a muscle that isn't really there.

"I don't know," Shell says, shaking his head.

"I'm kidding, of course." Brick rolls his sleeve back down.

"No. I mean, I don't think you should be alone with him; make sure other people are around."

"You're being paranoid," Brick says. "I
need
to be alone with him. How else is he going to crawl inside my trap? Believe me, there's nothing I'd like more than to bring that scab to his knees.

Plus, If we're alone, there's a good chance he'll confess the whole thing .. . maybe even show me cold, hard proof. Then I could go to Mason and tell him everything."

"Promise me you won't be alone with him," Shell insists, remembering the conversation he and Brick had on the beach-- how Brick told him that Clay has a gun.

"Why? What's with you?"

"I have a bad feeling about this."

"Why?"

"Because . . . it just doesn't make sense to me."

Brick sighs and looks away. "Nothing makes sense to you. Clay wouldn't try something stupid, if that's what you're thinking. Mason wouldn't allow it."

"Don't be mad," Shell says, brimming with doubt. "Just don't be alone with him. Don't cut any deals. Okay?"

'And how am I supposed to avoid it?" Brick asks, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "What am I supposed to say when he wants to pull me aside?"

"You'll come up with something," Shell says, reaching out to bop Brick in the arm.

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Brick nods, but Shell can see that he's clearly disappointed. "You won't be sorry," Shell says, bopping his arm one more time.

Brick pulls his arm away to roll his sleeve back up. "Yeah, I'll be sorry. And you will be, too. We could've been big." Brick flashes his muscle again, making Shell laugh.

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After Brick returns to his bed, Shell remains awake. He reaches into his coat pocket for a handful of parsley that he was able to save from his salad at dinner. He somehow knows that parsley has the ability to cleanse and, since he wasn't able to sneak into the cupboard for a bottle of olive oil-- on top of the candle he was already snatching-- he needs it for its purification properties.

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He rolls the parsley between the tips of his fingers before applying it to the candle's base. The tiny green leaves bead up as he glides the sprig down the candle's length, concentrating on the idea of purity. He touches the top end of the candle. "As above," he whispers. Then he touches the bottom. "So below." He continues to consecrate the candle for several more moments before unclasping the safety pin from his belt loop. Using the point, he carves a giant X into the side of the candle and then sets it down on a plate. "With the power of the moon and the strength of the sea," he whispers, "I wish, I want to remember thee. Please tell me, Dream. Please make it clear--

how did I end up living here?"

Shell positions the candle and plate on a safe spot on the hardwood floor and then lights the wick. He watches the wax droplets drip down the side, reminding him of tears. The flame flickers slightly with the draft in the room. Shell pulls his covers tightly around him and clenches his pentacle rock, lounging back in bed, willing his mind to remember.

After several minutes, he feels himself start to nod off. He extinguishes the candle with a few droplets of water from his cup, and then allows himself to fall asleep.

The ocean is absolutely freezing tonight. Shell swims through it, holding his breath underwater, trying to find his way out. It's completely black below sea level. Not even the moon's light can help him under here. Still, he keeps moving forward, trying to preserve his breath as best he can; his lungs feel like they're filling up.

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"Over here," he hears someone whisper.

He turns and sees Angel. She's floating a few feet away, dressed in a long white gown that floats upward. There are beams of light emanating from her skin.

"She's up there," she says, pointing toward the surface of the water, struggling to keep her dress down.

Shell looks up, but it's just so dark.

"Here," she says, removing an extra set of angel wings from her back. "You can pay me back later."

Shell takes them. "Thank you," he says.

"No sweat." She helps Shell fasten the wings to his back and, as soon as they're in place, he becomes illuminated as well. "Pretty cool, huh?" Angel says.

Shell nods.

"You almost drowned, you know," she says.

"Right now?"

"No, silly." She laughs. "Before . . . when you fell overboard. Don't you remember yet?"

Shell feels his face mess up in confusion.

"Oh yeah, that's right; people with amnesia don't remember anything, do they?" She laughs again.

'Amnesia?"

"Oh, like it's such a big secret." She huffs. "Tell me you didn't know. I mean, it's so completely obvious. Why else can't you remember anything from your past?"

Shell nods, knowing in his heart that it's true, but that he didn't want to label it. He's heard somewhere that amnesia can last for months, if not years.

"So what are you waiting for?" She throws a piece of sea kelp toward his head. "Don't you
want
to remember?"

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He nods.

"So get going, you goose!" She points upward again, toward the surface of the water.

Shell swims in that direction, his lungs so much stronger now, less constricted. After several seconds, he reaches the surface and breaks through it.

To his complete surprise, it's daylight now. How long has he been lost at sea? He treads a few moments in the water, trying to get his bearings. There's a long stretch of beach on both sides of him. He swallows hard, noticing the girl sitting alone in the sand. She stands when she sees him, taking several steps forward until they're only a few yards apart.

She's more beautiful than he'd ever imagine-- long hair, the color of dark chocolate; golden brown eyes; and a heart-shaped face. There's a large dark brown X over her neck. Somehow he knows that he's the one who drew it there-- with henna, he's sure.

The girl is trembling. She clasps her hands over her mouth. "Is it really you?" she asks, her voice cracking slightly.

Shell nods and the girl runs to him, sobbing uncontrollably, unable to catch her breath.