Chapter Six
He was speaking to me. He was looking at me. He could see me. My mind couldn’t comprehend it. I didn’t believe my own eyes, or trust my own ears.
He was older than me, that much was clear. And he was what Kelly would call gorgeous. His eyes were the darkest of browns, and his hair was almost the same hue. I couldn’t stop myself from staring up at him, from the top of his head to the toes of his scuffed sneakers. He wore loose jeans, and a clingy long-sleeved black shirt, which he had shoved up to his elbows. His forearms were lean and I could see muscles flexing in them as he lifted his bag off of the ground and brought it over to where I was sitting against a rock.
“Some water might help,” he said, handing me a jug. I reached for it, and my hand passed through. I frowned. Why could he hold it, but not me?
“Ah,” he said when it happened. “New, huh?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, my frown becoming more pronounced.
“Just had the fall?” he inquired as an answer. I nodded, confused.
“Newbies always seem to have trouble at first.” He put the jug down and sat next to me. I scooted away, uncomfortable. I’d been alone for days—weeks. I wasn’t accustomed to speaking to anyone anymore.
He must have noticed, because he gave me some distance. In his hand he still held the flashlight, but now he shut it off. “I couldn’t do a lot, myself, when I’d just come back,” the boy added.
“Come back?” I repeated.
“From the tunnel,” he amended.
My mind was whirling. So I hadn’t been the only one. There were others. That girl must have been one of them who’d fallen, and that was why she could see me. I was correct in my guess that she was dead, too. But why had she treated me so hatefully?
“How do you do it?” I asked the boy, eagerness now filling my voice and soul. I’d always been a quick learner, and I hated being second best in anything.
I couldn’t see his face in the dark, but I somehow sensed his surprise. “Well,” he cleared his throat, “there’s not an exact technique to it. My friend has this theory. He thinks it’s all about belief. You’ll be able to touch whatever you truly believe you will be able to touch. But I don’t know. I think it may just be a matter of time. The more days that passed, the more I could pick up and touch.”
“How long have you… been here?” Shyness was taking root. I’d never really spoken to a boy before, and not one so much older than me, no less. The boys at school had ignored me, or hadn’t even known of my existence. I was what was considered as a nerd. Kelly, too. We only talked about boys, and acted as if we knew all about them.
I wasn’t that pretty. Not like him. He hadn’t yet seen my face. I didn’t think I was anywhere near as beautiful as he was. He was better looking than Leonardo DiCaprio!
“About six years,” the boy answered. He shifted on the ground, and suddenly his foot was next to my thigh. I stared at it. “You?” he asked.
His question distracted me. “I’m not sure,” I replied uncertainly. “I… I d-died on…” I thought quickly. The bus had hit me on the third day of school. “September ninth?”
“Well, today is the twenty-ninth. You’re only twenty days old.” He sounded amused. My brow furrowed in indignation.
“Six years isn’t that much,” I retorted, not liking the feeling of childishness he caused me to feel. “Compared to some.”
“I suppose you’re right.” He laughed quietly, and I listened intently to the sound, pleased that I’d been able to make him laugh.
“Where you headed, anyway?” he asked me, his voice curious. For a moment I feared telling him, remembering all my mother’s lectures on not talking to strangers and how men took girls off of the road. And this boy could hurt me. The realization struck me like a blow.
This boy could touch me. He could hold flashlights in his hands! And I didn’t know him. What if he was some kind of creep, some child-molester?
I’d been silent too long. He must have understood that it was mistrustful, because he stood. “I’ve got to get back on the road,” he said casually. “Good luck getting to… wherever you’re going.”
I stood, also. “I’m going to Minnesota,” I blurted. I didn’t want to be alone again. I didn’t want to travel with no one but myself to talk to. No one but my shadow and the long road ahead.
“Minnesota?” He picked up his bag and I thought I saw him sling it over his shoulder, but I couldn’t be sure with such poor moonlight.
“Yeah.”
He nodded; I saw his head go up and down. “Well…” He hesitated. “We can, uh, travel together if you’d like. I’m heading that way, myself. I’m going to Chicago, to meet a few friends.”
The prospect relieved me. “Sure,” I replied, attempting to sound casual.
“I guess we should get going,” he said, and from his voice I thought that he might be smiling. “I don’t like to sleep when I’m traveling. Slows me down.”
I was all for anything, as long as I didn’t have to be alone again. “Okay.”
He walked to the road, and after a moment, I followed.
“Oh,” the boy said when I reached his side. “What’s your name?”
“Hope,” I answered, a little breathlessly. “What’s yours?”
“Caiden.”
I like how you explain the touching issue, it explains why she could go though doors, but not through furniture and walls.
I love the idea, the tone, and the plot so far...good job! Keep it coming, but don't you dare stop sending me Raven! I will kill!
