Night Sky (34 page)

But he was sewage-smell free, and I broadcast that by fist-pumping into the air. “Whoo!” I said. “Whoo!”

Out on the dance floor, as if it was a call-and-response, Calvin gave an answering “Whoo-whoo!” and then pulled a
Saturday
Night
Fever
move, followed by a backflip and then something that looked like an extremely manic fox-trot. Of course, that was really Dana who'd choreographed that.

“Girl, please!” I could see Calvin's lips move as he implored Dana, his eyes indignant as his feet moved beneath him.

But she ignored him, even as her new friend introduced her to a group of equally gorgeous women. Destiny users, all of them. Had to be.

Out on the dance floor, Calvin was laboriously performing something I'd previously seen mastered only by Russian men in fur hats. He squatted down, jumped up, and then lifted his knees. Then, without warning, he switched to an extremely elaborate
Riverdance
rendition.

I looked from Calvin to Dana, who was sitting with her new friends, plural now, at a table over by the dimly lit hall that led to the bathrooms. And then I looked at Milo. I held out my hand, and as our connection clicked on, I asked,
Ready
for
a
field
trip?

He smiled.
Always
.

He helped me down off the stool—not that I needed help.

I
know. But I don't want you to fall.

Thanks
, I thought back at him. We went past the table where Dana was now sitting, and I took several deep, deep breaths. Nothing. As I fist-pumped, my frustration inspired a jumble of thoughts containing words that would have made a sailor blush. I never would have said any of that aloud, except—oh great—Milo's hand was on my elbow. He'd had access to all of it, and now he was laughing.

I felt myself flush.
Shit, I mean shoot! I keep forgetting that everything I think is now public.

Not
public
, he told me.
Not
really. And don't worry. I can keep a secret.

He took my hand again, weaving our fingers together this time, as he led me into that narrow hallway—where the line to the ladies' room was epic.

“Whoa,” I said. “Wow, I forgot to pack my sleeping bag and trail mix.”

Milo glanced at me.
Do
you
really
have
to…?
My
yes
must've been obvious, because he immediately added,
I
don't mind. We can wait
.

You
don't have to wait with me,
I told him, even as the woman standing right in front of us smiled to reveal drug-blackened teeth.

“Want a third?” she asked, shouting over music that was loud even back here.

“A third of what?” I started to ask, but Milo cut me off with a very definite sounding, “Nope. Not into that.”

“Wanna buy some—”

“Not into that, either,” he said, even as he started, hesitantly and tactfully, to try to explain to me,
She, um, thinks we're in line to, uh, go into the bathroom together. The two of us. To, you know. Get jiggy. And she was offering to, um—

Ew!
I got it, and I was immediately embarrassed—more for not knowing what she'd meant.
I
mean, not you and me
ew
, but
ew
at
the
thought
of… And oh my God, you must think I'm so stupid.
Although he
had
just used the Mom-tastic phrase “get jiggy,” but that was probably just to make me laugh.

I
think
you're sweet
, Milo told me.
And
funny. And definitely not stupid. But I also think I'm not leaving you alone on this line or anywhere else in this club.

I nodded, grateful for his presence.
Thanks
.

Who
was
that
girl
in
your
vision? She was in your dream too
. Milo immediately cut himself off.
Sorry. I really didn't mean to ask that. It's not my business. But this you're-in-my-head thing makes it hard to… I mean, I was wondering it, and even though I wouldn't have said it out loud if we were, you know, talking, it just kind of escaped because I was thinking it—

It's okay
, I reassured him, unable to keep from laughing. Usually taciturn Milo was practically babbling.
Really. It's not a secret
.

It
kind
of
is
, he countered.
I
don't really know how I know this, but I do know that you haven't even told Calvin about her. Her name's Nicole, right?

He was watching me with those eyes, his dimples nowhere in sight.

But then he smiled and touched his face with the hand that wasn't holding mine.
I
think
they
make
me
look
kind
of
goofy.

I laughed.
Goofy. Right. Because random drug-abusing women in clubs always want to have anonymous bathroom sex with the goofiest-looking guys in the room.

Milo laughed too, but then his smile faded.
It's okay if you don't want to tell me. I don't mean to overstep any bounds.

You're not. And I kinda do. Want to tell you. Her name was Nicole—it still is,
I quickly added.
She's not dead. Thank God.

That's good,
I felt him think as he tucked his hair behind his ear. The muscles in his forearm rippled as he moved and I tried not to stare.
I
was
afraid…

She
was
my
best
friend, back when I lived in Connecticut. She was really smart but she was also really popular—which is harder to deal with than most people think. She started to get into drinking and drugs and…it got so that all she really wanted to do was party. She made some pretty big messes, and I was always there to clean them up.

And
wow, I'm making it sound so crappy, but it wasn't. Not always. When she wasn't drinking, we had a lot of fun. She made me laugh. Anyway, it was a house party. A lot like the one at Garrett's. A lot of stupid high school kids doing things we wouldn't have been able to do if Mike's parents had been home that night. Mike Rizzulo. He was Nicole's boyfriend. That month. He was a total douche.
I realized that even though my words were being sent to Milo through my thoughts, the voice I was using to communicate with him was wavering with emotion.
Sorry
.

It's okay
, Milo said gently.

He
was…gigantically stupid. But he was only part of the stupidity of that night. See, I should have been the designated driver, only my mother wouldn't let me get my license. It's beyond stupid. She thought she was—somehow—protecting me, but if I'd been in possession of Nicky's keys…
I exhaled hard.
Anyway, the night was a disaster right from the start. Nicole and Mike had only been dating for about six weeks. It wasn't a long time, but for Nicky, that was pretty much an eternity. She really liked him
.

Milo nodded. The song playing out in the club switched to one that he liked, but I could feel his attention still completely on me.

Long, sad story short, she got pregnant. But when she told him—when Nicky told Mike—his response was to throw a party and not invite her.

Oh, no,
I felt Milo thinking.

Oh, yeah. We found out about it—how could we not? And when we arrived, Mike was already making out with Jennifer Mills.

It had been brutal, and Nicky had been devastated.
We
didn't even have the opportunity to slink away
, I continued,
because
as
soon
as
Mike
saw
her, he took the whole thing public. He told Nicky, right in front of everyone at the party, that the baby couldn't be his. That she was a big slut, that she'd slept with a million people—how about asking the rest of the football team if they were the father, blah, blah, blah
. I laughed out loud, humorlessly.
Thing
was, Nicky had a reputation, but it wasn't real. What she did with Mike was a really big deal for her. He was the first.

I could feel Milo's profound sadness.

But
nobody
believed
her. And Nicky freaked. She went running out of there, and I followed her. And I got into her car with her—I guess I figured that since I'd driven with her before when she'd been drinking…
I felt Milo wince, and I added,
And
yes, I know that wasn't smart. But on this night, of all nights, I knew she was sober so I got in, and I wish that I'd said,
Let me drive,
or
God, even
, Let me call my mom.
I
wish
I'd known Dana back then, or…you.

I knew my eyes were filling with tears, and I willed them dry, staring ferociously at my hands, held tightly now in both of Milo's as the entire line shuffled slightly closer to the single-seater ladies' room.

Nicky
was
shouting
at
me, telling me to get out of the car. But I wouldn't. I was afraid of what she might do. All I kept thinking was that I should've kept her from going over to Mike's house. I should have stopped her. I should have known this would happen.

Milo interrupted me then.
It
wasn't your fault
.

Stop
being
so
freaking
nice!
I shot back at him, then immediately wished that my tone hadn't been so harsh.
I'm sorry. I just wish I'd done something different. I wonder if she would have driven that fast if I hadn't been in the car. But, finally she just took off, out of there.

And
I
kept
telling
her
to
slow
down
, I continued,
but
I
think
she
was
trying
to
scare
me. She was driving and crying and swearing, and I know you and Dana don't think that I'm prescient, but Milo, I'm telling you that I knew. I knew—in those last few minutes—exactly when and where it was going to happen, but there was nothing I could do or say to stop her. I remember shouting at her, asking her if she really wanted to kill me too, and she…

She'd called me a stupid bitch and said it was my fault for not getting out of the car when I had the chance.

Milo placed his other hand on the side of my face, and I leaned into it, feeling his solid warmth and strength, and wishing with all of my heart that I could turn one of my powers into an ability to rewrite the past. Surely there was a Greater-Than somewhere who had the talent and skill to demand a do-over—and actually get one.

She
didn't mean it
, I told Milo, even though I knew he could feel my doubt. Maybe my friendship—maybe
I
—had meant so little to Nicole that taking me with her as she killed herself didn't make her so much as pause.

We
were
going
too
fast
as
we
approached
a
curve
in
the
road
. I'd felt the tires slip, heard the screeching of burning rubber as we slid across the asphalt.

Nicky had looked at me as she wildly spun the steering wheel, trying to keep the car in control. The expression on her face was one of pure horror, her mouth open in a silent scream as the car skidded sideways off the road. I shut my eyes, remembering the way the car started to roll—it was dizzying and terrifying, and it happened so fast that I don't remember hearing anything. Not the shrieking of bending and tearing metal, and not even that one final glass-shattering crash as we slammed into the trunk of a very solid tree.

The only sound I remember was a high-pitched buzz that faded as the world went black.

Then, just as quickly, the blackness lightened into a white fuzziness…kind of like a TV when the cable goes out, and the high-pitched buzz came back, louder and louder, until it became an actual noise, and I realized it was a voice, screaming—and that voice was coming from me.

I wasn't in pain—at least not that I could tell. And Nicky was next to me, in the driver's seat, her head slumped against the steering wheel. She had blood on her face, on her head, on her hands. There was so much blood—it was on me too. And I saw that a branch from the tree that we'd hit had come in through the broken window, and it stabbed into Nicky's side like a long, jagged knife.

I somehow pulled it out of her—at the time I didn't know how I'd managed to find the strength, but now I knew I'd used my power. Except it was the wrong thing to do, because after the branch was out, there was even more blood. God, Nicky was even breathing blood—it frothed from her mouth and her nose—only she wasn't really breathing. She was making more like a liquid gasp, the way I imagined it would sound if someone tried to inhale underwater. Her eyes were wide and white in her blood-streaked face. And she was staring at me like I should do something.