Blur (Blur Trilogy) (30 page)

CHAPTER
SIXTY-FIVE

THE NEXT DAY

Daniel thought the
y
might cancel school, but the
y
didn’t.

“So, Mr. B
ye
rs,” Miss Fl
yn
n said as class officiall
y
began, “I know
yo
u don’t reall
y
like speaking in front of the class, but we all want to hear what happened in that cav
e—w
ell, at least those of us who haven’t alread
y
been tol
d—o
r texte
d—a
ll the details
ye
t.”

Last night after leaving Wolf Cave, he and Nicole had filled K
yl
e and Mia in about ever
yt
hing.

“K
yl
e’s a lot better stor
yt
eller than I am,” Daniel said. “Ma
yb
e he could . . . ?”

“I got it, Teach,” K
yl
e told Miss Fl
yn
n. “No problem.”

He stepped to the front of the room and spun the tale, leaving out the investigative details Daniel’s dad had informed them the previous night needed to remain confidential. He also b
yp
assed mentioning their suspicions that the killer was Mr. McKinne
y.

Or Daniel.

Or himself.

Or the girl who didn’t exist.

Also, Daniel and his friends had agreed to keep the blurs to themselves, so K
yl
e skipped over those too.

Actuall
y,
that reall
y
cut down on what he could sa
y,
but somehow he managed to encapsulate the rest of the facts in a wa
y
that contained the essential truth of what had happened, even if he wasn’t exactl
y,
entirel
y,
one hundred percent forthcoming.

When he was done, the class peppered him, Daniel, and Nicole with questions. Some the
y
offered answers to, some the
y
couldn’t, some the
y
chose not to.

Brad Talbot said to K
yl
e, “So
yo
ur Mustang got smashed up? That sucks. That thing is sweet.”

“It’s not nearl
y
as bad as T
y’
s SUV.”

“And
yo
u fought him?”

“Well, mostl
y
Daniel took care of that, but one of his friends smiled at Mia in a wa
y
I didn’t like and I was reall
y
tempted to smack it off his face.”

“So, what happened?”

“I gave in to temptation.”

“Sweet.”

T
y
and his three buddies had taken off before Daniel’s dad arrived on River Drive and hadn’t shown up for school toda
y.
However, Daniel had disarmed T
y
in front of his friends, undoubtedl
y
embarrassing him, and he had a feeling that it was not the last time he’d be hearing from T
y
Bell.

When the class was done asking questions, Miss Fl
yn
n said, “There’s one last poem I would like to share with
yo
u before the bell rings.”

She read:

And here is the truth from which all others grow; here is the spring from which all others flow: soon I will be dead.

Soon, as measured b
y
stardust and time.

Soon as measured b
y
comets and dreams.

Soon. Soon.

Soon, I will be dead.

And here is the question that determines ever
yt
hing—what will I do until then?

The meaning of that poem wasn’t too hard at all to unpack.

Soon I will be dead.

What will I do until then?

And the answer was evident too, and resonated through Daniel’s mind:
Live each moment, each precious moment that
yo
u have. Live each one as if it were
yo
ur last. And
yo
ur first.

Miss Fl
yn
n gave them a short writing assignment for Monda
y,
class ended, and as the students were gathering up their things, she asked to speak with Daniel for a moment.

She waited until the room cleared out. “I wanted to take a second to talk to
yo
u about
yo
ur blog entries from last week.”

Oh, that’s righ
t—s
he hadn’t said an
yt
hing earlier about either of them. Daniel didn’t even know if she’d given him a completion grade.

“Oka
y,
” he said somewhat uneasil
y.

“You wrote about vultures picking awa
y
at
yo
ur dreams. First there was that, and now ever
yt
hing this week with Mr. Ackerman, and what happened in the cave. I wondered . . . well, how
yo
u’re doing.”

“I’m oka
y.
”

“You sure?”

No, but as long as the blurs stop, I might be.

“We’ll see.”

She hesitated, evidentl
y
at a loss for how to respond to that. “Oka
y.
”

After handing back his assignment with the completion grade on top, she said, “Daniel, remember to cling to the one thing that the vultures can never devour unless
yo
u let them.”

“What’s that?”

“This moment.”

He found K
yl
e waiting for him in the hall.

The
y
hadn’t had a chance to connect that morning before class, and now K
yl
e asked him, “So what did Coach sa
y
about tonight’s game?”

Daniel held up his bandaged, rope-burned right hand. In addition, even though he’d wrapped his banged-up knee in an ACE bandage, he couldn’t keep from limping. At least the previous night’s X-ra
ys
showed he hadn’t ended up with an
y
cracked ribs, and the cut from T
y’
s knife wasn’t severe. “It’s just a flesh wound,” K
yl
e had told him last night in his best Mont
y
P
yt
hon accent.

Now Daniel said, “Coach said it’s a no-go. I guess I agree. I’m not sure how well I’d be able to throw.”

“Next week?”

“I’ll be back then for sure, if I have an
yt
hing to sa
y
about it.”

The
y
started down the hallwa
y.
“And
yo
ur mom?”

“She’s coming up tomorrow. After she heard about ever
yt
hing that’s happened she told me she was coming no matter what I thought.”

“What did
yo
u sa
y
to that?”

“I told her it’d be good to see her.” He paused. “We’ll see how that goes.”

“And this is her first time visiting? I mean, since she left?”

“Yes.”

The
y
walked a little wa
y,
then K
yl
e said softl
y,
“Your dad knows all about the blurs now.”

“Yeah, and he’s worried, I can tell. But when I explained ever
yt
hing about how the
y
were helping me figure things out, he told me he needed to think about that. I’m not sure where that’s gonna lead. At least he doesn’t suspect me of an
yt
hing an
ym
ore. B
y
the wa
y,
sorr
y
about
ye
sterda
y,
when I thought
yo
u might’ve been a serial killer.”

“It’s all good. You suspected
yo
urself too. And Stac
y,
who never even existe
d—w
hich I have to sa
y
is a little bit ps
yc
ho. An
yw
a
y,
at least I’m in good compan
y.
I think.”

“How’s Mia toda
y?
”

“As she would sa
y,
‘Smokin’.
’
 ”

“What was up with that butterfl
y
knife she pulled out?”

“She’s a girl who’s full of surprises.”

“Your kind of girl.”

“M
y
kind of girl.”

Daniel got a text from Nicole, and when K
yl
e left for class, he decided to chance another tard
y
slip and meet up with her near the snack machines Emil
y
had written about on the sheet of paper that’d fallen out of her notebook when he picked it up at her house.

He greeted Nicole, but caught himself peering past her at the vending machines, thinking of Emil
y’
s words about watching the popular kids talk and wishing she were part of their group and never quite finding the right wa
y
to fit in.

The words must have been lodged in his mind, in that cr
yp
tic corner that didn’t let an
yt
hing slip b
y,
the one that seemed to be opening up latel
y
more and mor
e—m
a
yb
e too much. He heard the words about her
ye
arning to belong as clearl
y
as if she were reading them herself, “I watch them and I despise them and I env
y
them and I hate m
ys
elf for wanting to be like them.”

“Daniel?” Nicole was waving her hand in front of his face.

“Huh?” It took him a moment to collect himself. “Yeah?”

“Are
yo
u oka
y?
You just zoned out on me.”

“Sorr
y,
I was just remembering . . . .”

“Remembering what?”

“Something I read that Emil
y
wrote.”

“What’s that?”

“About how much she wanted to belong.”

Nicole processed that. “We all do, I guess.”

No one should slip through the cracks.

It’s so eas
y
to close up circles so kids like Emil
y
can’t come in. It’s a lot harder to open them up.

But it was worth it to at least tr
y.
It was one thing he could do, one thing he decided he was going to do.

He asked Nicole, “What were
yo
u sa
yi
ng when I blanked out?”

“There’s still one thing I don’t understand.”

“What’s that?”

“The marks on
yo
ur arm. The
y
formed just because of
yo
ur thoughts? Because
yo
u were convinced Emil
y
had touched
yo
u?”

“I don’t know. Ma
yb
e we’ll figure that out next week. I have an appointment with a shrink on Wednesda
y.
I hope he’ll finall
y
be able to tell what’s wrong with me.”

“Or what’s right.”

“What do
yo
u mean?”

“I mean
yo
u’ve got this . . . I don’t know, abilit
y,
gif
t—e
ven though it doesn’t seem like a gif
t—w
hatever it is, it helped
yo
u solve all this. Ma
yb
e it’s not something
yo
u need diagnosed and treated, but something
yo
u need to figure out a wa
y
to use again.”

“Yeah, I’m not so sure about that. I think I’m done seeing blur
s—a
t least, I hope I am.”

He didn’t think that bringing up what he’d told Stac
y
that night in his roo
m—t
hat the barrier between realit
y
and fantas
y
was gone for hi
m—w
ould reassure Nicole too much, so he kept that to himself.

The tard
y
bell rang.

“This’ll be m
y
first tard
y
slip this
ye
ar.” Nicole sighed.

“I’m a bad influence on
yo
u.”

“I think I can live with that.”

He thought about ever
yt
hing that’d happened over the past two weeks. In a wa
y
it reminded him of the themes of the stories and poems Miss Fl
yn
n preferred, the ones that were about deat
h—o
r about life, depending on how
yo
u looked at the endings.

Soon, as measured b
y
stardust and time. Soon as measured b
y
comets and dreams.

Soon. Soon.

Soon, I will be dead.

And here is the question that determines ever
yt
hin
g—w
hat will I do until then?

Yeah, that was the ke
y.
To realize it’s not about dreams and death at all.

It’s about dreams.

And life.

He took Nicole’s hand and as the
y
headed to class, he started to calculate how man
y
minutes he’d been alive, but stopped himself, and simpl
y
embraced the one he had instead.

TO BE CONTINUED IN

FURY

SPRING 2015