Manifest (16 page)

Um,
now I’m officially scared. Who is this? And why’s he stalking me? I should call the police or at the very least tell Janet and Gerald.

At the top of my phone screen there’s no number listed, just the screen name “number1” like it’s been programmed into my phone. That’s new. It wasn’t on the messages with the pictures. But something tells me they’re both coming from the same person.

Too creepy,
I think as I drop the phone back into my purse and close my locker. Turning around, I bump right into Franklin. I thought I was in the hallway alone so coming face-to-face with him almost has my heart leaping out of my chest.

“Whoa, it’s just me, Krystal,” he says quickly, reaching out to grab my wrist because I am about to start swinging. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I let out the breath that had clogged my lungs and lean back against the locker. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I wasn’t sneaking. Just waiting for you to finish so I could walk you to the bus stop.”

I try to smile. Franklin’s so nice. And I think he’s trying to be like a boyfriend or something. Unfortunately, between supernatural powers, spirits needing help, naked pictures of students on my cell phone and a tense home life, I’m just too whacked out to really appreciate his efforts.

“I’m sorry,” I say, hoping that’s good enough. I really don’t want him to ask me what has me so jumpy.

“You okay, Krys? Is there something I can do to help?”

I shake my head quickly. “No. I’m fine. Thanks. And I’m not going to the bus stop today, got a meeting.”

“Oh? I didn’t know you were on the yearbook committee,” he says.

“I’m not.”

“Well, that’s who’s meeting this afternoon, unless you’re trying out for the basketball team.”

In the time we’ve been chatting, Franklin hasn’t moved an inch. He’s still directly in front of me, so close that our fronts are touching. This makes me feel warm and I wonder if I should move. But just as I think I should, he takes a step closer.

I clear my throat. “Ah, no. I’m not doing either of those. Just meeting with a few friends.”

“Can I come?”

He’s touching a hand to my face now.

“Um, no. It’s kind of private.”

He nods his head. “I really like you, Krystal.”

Ohmigod. Ohmigod. Ohmigod. Does this mean he’s about to kiss me again? Ever since first meeting Ricky I’ve been obsessed with getting my first kiss over with. Knowing it will never be with Ricky, Franklin is the next best candidate. Besides, I like him, too.

I open my mouth to say that but Franklin’s quick and his lips are on mine before a sound can come out. Now,
since my mouth is slightly open, the first kiss seems a little awkward. But then Franklin does it again. This time his lips touch mine (closed) lightly and when he pulls back he looks right into my eyes.

“Will you be my girl?”

Ohmigod. Ohmigod.
Stop it!
I yell at myself for acting like a ninny.

“Sure,” I say, and it sounds all breathy like one of those women on television.

Franklin smiles. “Good.”

The next time he kisses me I close my eyes and lean into him. His arms come around my waist, pulling me even closer to him. I’m all tingly inside and just know this has to be like heaven.

“Oh, please, get a room.”

The nasal-sounding voice interrupts us and Franklin and I quickly pull apart. But it’s only Alyssa.

“Why don’t you try getting a life,” I snap. This girl is seriously getting on my nerves.

“Yeah, just as soon as you accept your place and stop trying to be something you’re not.”

“Come on, Alyssa, be nice,” Franklin says.

She looks at him then frowns. “Poor Franklin, I thought you had potential since your father’s, like, semifamous being on the news and all. But hanging out with her is so déclassé.”

And she is so full of it! I move from the locker and make a move toward her but Franklin pulls me back.

“See what I mean? She’s ready to fight like some street person. You can do so much better,” she says and starts to walk away.

I reach out an arm like I’m going to grab some of that fake hair hanging down her back but Franklin just chuckles and pulls me away.

“She’s not worth it,” he says, draping an arm over my shoulder.

“She’s a bitch,” is my retort.

He shrugs. “You might be right. So anyway, you’re going home after your meeting?”

“Yep,” I say because I know that Janet and Gerald want to have another family dinner. And I don’t really know why but I’m thinking it might not be all that bad since we’re staying at home this time.

“So I’ll call you later?”

I smile. “You can.”

“I will,” he says, then kisses me once more and leaves the building.

I’m, like, floating down the hallway as I go to meet up with Jake and Sasha. But as I’m walking, voices in one of the classrooms stop me.

Standing on tiptoe, I look through the lone window in the classroom door and see Mr. Lyle. He’s in there with a bunch of kids, mostly girls, and they’re all sitting around this long table talking. That’s not what catches my eye, though. On a corkboard right above the table where they’re sitting are more pictures. One of them looks vaguely familiar. I’m trying to figure out where I recognize the face from when it dawns on me that I’m already late meeting Jake and Sasha.

So I move away and start walking down the hall. Only a few steps in and I hear a door opening behind me.

“Ah, Krystal. Interested in joining the yearbook committee?”

I turn and see Mr. Lyle staring at me. I didn’t think he’d seen me peeking in but I guess he had.

“Ah, no. I was looking for another meeting,” I say quickly.

“But we could use another person on the committee.
Another pair of eyes,” he says and then looks at me weird, like he can see through me or at least through my clothes.

Ewwww, perv!

“No, thanks,” I say and quickly make my way down the hall and around the first corner even though it takes me past the stairwell that I was supposed to meet Jake and Sasha in.

Counting to fifty, I wait, hoping I’ve given him enough time, then I circle back and head toward the stairs. That’s when I see something on the floor. It’s like its rolling, coming straight toward me.

A sense of dread bubbles in my stomach and even though I want to run down those steps I can’t. I’m stuck right here staring down at the same eerie black smoke that I saw at the library.

How did it get into the school and what the hell is it?

It’s getting closer and I want to investigate. I want to know what it is and if it’s connected to this new power I have. I think it is. Don’t know why, maybe everything creepy going on now is related to the Power. I don’t know but I’m ready to find out.

I take one step then I’m yanked back so hard I think my arm is being pulled out of its socket.

“Where’ve you been? We’ve been waiting and waiting,” Jake says. “I was getting worried.”

Once I’m inside the stairwell I pull my arm from him. “Okay, okay. I’m right here, you don’t have to rip my arm off.”

Then he kind of shrinks back against the wall, giving me the saddest, most pitiful look I’ve ever seen. I’m instantly sorry for yelling at him. Then again, he should be sorry for yanking on me.

“Look, I apologize. You just scared me.”

“I scared you? Why, what happened? Did you see another spirit? Is somebody following you?”

“No,” I answer then look at him for a minute. “Why would someone be following me?”

“I don’t know. I was just saying.”

No,
I think,
he isn’t really saying anything at all.
But I have a feeling he wants to.

“As a matter of fact, I think somebody, or something, might be following me.”

Jake lifts up from the wall, looking at me seriously. “What? Tell me what it is.”

I tilt my head. “I think you’re gonna tell me.”

“Krystal,” he says like he’s tired.

“Okay, remember I told you in front of the library there were these birds and then this black smoke was like smothering me?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I saw the smoke again. As a matter of fact, this is the third time I’ve seen it.”

“Where else?”

“In my dream,” I say slowly. “The first time I went to the cemetery and found Ricky’s grave was in my dream. I was running and suddenly the fog was there. It stopped me. I couldn’t run anymore.”

Jake is quiet.

“What is it, Jake?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

“Jake!”

“I don’t know!” he yells back. “I just don’t know. I read the whole journal and it doesn’t say what ‘it’ is.” He pauses. “Just that ‘it’s’ coming. It’s coming for us.”

Sasha
appears right in between us the second he says that.

“What’s coming for us?”

I turn to her, shocked to see her even though I know she has that teleportation power. “Where were you?”

She looks over her shoulder at me. “Since you were taking so long I teleported myself down to the room to take a listen to what the hip-hoppers were saying.”

“And?” I ask just as she turns her attention back to Jake.

She waves a hand over her shoulder, not turning back to look at me. “Nothing much. As it turns out, their big meeting was about what they are wearing to the dance. Can you believe that? Like they’re girls or something.”

“So you didn’t learn anything about who might have killed Ricky?” Jake asks.

“No. But Antoine did mention that his aunt had found some e-mails on Ricky’s computer. Something about him keeping his mouth shut or paying the price. She said the e-mails weren’t from any of the kids at school so that clears the hip-hoppers of Ricky’s murder.”

I take this information in, thinking about the weird text
and IM messages I’ve been getting lately. Although none of them insinuated that I know something.

“Now that I’ve delivered my information, why don’t you two tell me what you were talking about before I arrived?”

Jake looks at me and I look back at him and shrug. Finally he says, “Come on, let’s talk and walk.”

Jake thinks there’s something coming.

Franklin said his father thinks a big storm is coming, too.

Me, I think these powers are deeper than any of us ever thought. Sure, we have these matching marks and we can do some pretty cool things, but I have a feeling there is more to it.

In the past people were accused of witchcraft and killed. Some of them were probably just like us. It stands to reason that there might still be people in the world who would want us gone because of our differences. But Jake isn’t sure that’s what we should be afraid of.

“Throughout the rest of the journal, Eleanor talks about this ‘darkness.’ Sometimes she just says ‘it.’ Whatever, it’s bad. William was never seen or heard from again. Or at least until the end of the journal, a couple weeks before Eleanor died in 1978. I asked my grandfather but he said he never saw his brother again after that.”

“Does your grandfather have powers, Jake?” Sasha asks as we walk through the parking lot to her car.

Jake shakes his head. “Says he wished he’d get them someday but they never came.” Jake takes a deep breath then sighs. “He said that my mother was really afraid of getting pregnant. She’d heard stories about the Power and the storms here in Lincoln. She came from down south, he said.”

I’ve never heard Jake talk about his mother before and I’m not really sure how to handle it. Then again, if it’s going
to help us figure out what is going on, I have to say something. “But I don’t think it’s just in Lincoln. I mean, Mary Burroughs was in Massachusetts. All those storms in 1932, the year William was born, were in different places. No matter where she was when a storm hit, if she got pregnant her child would have the Power.”

“Yeah, I think so, too,” I agree.

Sasha looks thoughtful. “What does your dad say?”

“I didn’t ask him. He doesn’t like to talk about it. Pop Pop says that’s why my mom left, the first time she saw me use the Power. She was afraid of what would come next so she just left.”

I nod, understanding all of a sudden now why Jake’s home life is the way it is. “And your dad blames you for that. He blames you for chasing your mother away. That’s why he doesn’t spend time with you.”

Jake looks away and I can’t help but feel sorry for him. So while usually he’s the one touching me, I put my hand on his shoulder and kind of rub a little.

“He’s wrong, Jake. It’s not your fault at all.”

Sasha chimes in, “She’s right. It’s not your fault. We were born like this. Blaming us for what is, is just stupid.”

We’re all standing there thinking on what we’ve just discovered when overhead loud screeching erupts. I know what’s above us before I even look up because I’ve seen them before.

Three black crows are swooping down, heading straight for us. I lift my arms up over my head and Sasha does the same. Jake stands still and stares at them, like he did that day in his yard with the jocks, but nothing happens. The screeching grows louder and I feel one of the birds nip the skin of my arm.

“Get in the car!” Jakes yells but I can’t move.

The bird is nipping at me like he’s starving. There’s one over Sasha, too, and I see Jake swinging at the one near him. Then Sasha’s gone. She disappears.

In the next minute I hear the engine of her car start and the passenger side door swings open. Jake makes his way over to me and grabs me by the waist, pulling me to the car while we both keep trying to fight the birds off. Jake shoves me inside then dives in behind me. Sasha pulls off with his legs still hanging out. He rolls over on the seat and pulls the door closed.

For a couple of miles the birds fly right above the car. Then, as suddenly as they appeared, they’re gone. And when me and Jake turn back to look out the window I see it.

The black fog, rolling along the ground behind the car.

“You see it, don’t you?” I whisper but don’t know why. “Please, tell me you see it, too?”

Beside me Jake nods. “Yeah, I see it.”

The minute my head hits the pillow I fall asleep. Today’s been eventful plus I didn’t get much sleep last night what with my little visitor showing up. Praying I don’t have another visitor tonight, I let my breathing fall into a level pattern and try to rest.

Obviously that is not meant to be, or maybe I do sleep for a while at least.

All I know is that at some point cold fingers moving along my skin wake me up. I think maybe it’s just chills since my sheet has fallen off me but when I reach for it, it’s not there. I move my feet thinking I’ll find it but it’s gone. Must have fallen on the floor.

So I lean over, switch on the lamp and let out a scream that could surely wake the dead.

Oh, my bad, the dead are already awake and they’re standing in my room!

When the screaming is so loud I think my head is going to explode I thrust my fist inside my mouth to stifle the sound. I’m beginning to think my screaming must be a part
of these dreams or else Gerald or Janet should have come running by now. I’m still scared out of my mind as I’m staring at at least ten corpses lined up around my room like bodyguards.

They all look old with raggedy clothes hanging from their bones. Bits and pieces are missing from their faces—that’s probably why I’m still shaking with fear. They’re ugly and scary and…they have that same glow around them that Trina does.

I remember wondering why she had that glow and Ricky didn’t. The woman on the beach and the girl in the school had glowed, too. I think now it’s because they’ve already crossed over, like these other dead folk have.

With my heart still hammering, I finally get up enough nerve to pull my fist from my mouth. Of course I’m drooling like I did that time my mouth was numb from having a tooth pulled. My hand is now wet and just a little sore from my teeth baring down on it. I wipe it against my shorts and try to speak again.

I’m trying to gain control. I’m the medium, not them. They have no power without me. (I read that online, too.)

“Who…what…I mean…why are you here?”

The one at the end, the taller one with what looks like remnants of a suit barely holding on to his bony frame, turns to me and acts like he’s going to walk closer.

I start moving backward until I hit the wall and then I’m like a spider, practically crawling upward to get away from the ghost.

We’re here because you can help us.

I’m already shaking my head no. “I can’t help you. You’re dead.” Like I need to remind them of that.

But you can hear us, we have messages.

“I’m not a messenger,” I say even though I know I am, sort of. I wonder if I inadvertently called them here, like in my sleep or something. Our powers are stronger now that
we’ve all linked up and they will continue to grow. I have no way of knowing what I can do at this point.

We know you can hear us. There aren’t many who can.

“I can’t help you,” I say, my voice sounding deceptively stronger.

She lies!
another one shrieks. This one is close to my closet with long, dirty—I guess it used to be hair—hanging down her back.
She won’t help us! Let’s take her.

What? Take me where?

Okay, here goes that scream again. And I pray this time that someone living hears me!

I’m still screaming when they all start moving toward me. I start to pick up stuff, whatever is close to me, throwing it at them. When I finally yank my lamp out of the socket and hurl it at them, not only does the entire room go dark but a loud crashing echoes in the darkness.