Kendall slips an arm around her friend’s waist. “Aw, don’t worry, honey,” she says. “They’ll get over him eventually, and then you can swoop in and attack.”
Eli laughs. “I’ve done enough swooping. I think I’m going to have to look elsewhere. Too many guys, not enough girls around here.” He shrugs. “Where are you going to college? Do you know yet?”
Kendall sighs. “No. I don’t know. I might just hang around here.”
“Don’t be stupid, Kendall.”
“What? Why?”
“You’re really smart and talented. Get the heck out of here.”
“But what if . . .”
Eli looks at her. “What if what? What if Nico comes back and you’re not here? Look . . . it’s really hard to say this to you because I know it hurts, but you know that it’s not likely. The chances we’ll ever see him again . . . Well, you know the statistics. And even if he does come back, there are lots of ways of finding you to let you know. Maybe you can even get a cell phone once you get out of here.”
Kendall sets her plate on the deck railing. It hurts to hear what he’s saying, but she knows it’s true. The thoughts start whipping through her brain again. “So,” she says, trying to fight them off, “where are you going to college?”
“Vassar.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Tons of women there.”
Kendall laughs. “Good for you. You got accepted?”
“Yep.” Eli looks at his feet and blushes. “Got the letter the other day.”
“That is so cool!” She hugs him tightly. “I’m really glad for you.”
“Thanks. Want to make out?”
Kendall laughs. “No, not since that unfortunate spin the bottle incident in sixth grade in stupid Brandon’s basement.”
“Yeah, I thought you’d say that. But hey, worth a try.” Eli scoops the last bit of salsa from his plate and licks his fingers. “Now for dessert,” he says. “I heard there’s flan. And cookies.” He winks at her.
“Go for it.” Kendall smiles as she watches Eli go back inside, and then she turns back to her plate. She glances at Jacián again, and this time he’s staring intently at her. When he sees her looking, he turns away and roughly shoves charred peppers into a paper bag.
She puts her fork down, suddenly not hungry anymore, and then turns to bring her plate inside.
Inside, people are dancing. Marlena’s still using crutches with her boot, so dancing is out of the question for her. Kendall hangs out on the couch with her and the other girls for a while, but then with a little encouragement, she joins in.
Her adrenaline soars. It feels so good to dance after weeks without it. As the afternoon progresses into evening, the half-drunk adults completely clear the living room of furniture and really start the celebration.
Kendall dances with Hector and with Eli, even though he’s terrible at it and keeps stepping on her feet. She gets lots of cheers from the partyers. It’s so much fun—she wonders why the little town doesn’t do parties more often. Stupid potatoes.
As it grows late, more people drop out or leave entirely, but Marlena shouts for Kendall to stay, to keep dancing. The other girls get up on the floor with her, and things get a little wild. When one of them spins and trips, Hector turns on a sexy couples song to clear away the singles. It’s perfect for the salsa.
Hector has bowed out of the dancing portion, claiming he’s too old and tired, and none of the boys have a clue how to do it. So Kendall steps to the doorway and watches Mr. and Mrs. Obregon dance. A few other couples join in, but there aren’t many in this town who know the steps.
A moment later Jacián appears inside the house for the first time since the party started. He’s wearing a fresh white T-shirt. He steps into the room and goes up to his parents. “Hey, Mama!” he shouts, a smile on his face. She laughs and waves at him to come. Jacián cuts in on his father, taking his mother by the hand.
The girls in the room go slack-jawed as he moves almost perfectly to the gorgeous dance. When he messes up, he grins wide, and his mother smiles back.
Kendall stares.
Mr. Obregon stands next to her. “He’s not bad, my boy,” he says proudly. Mr. Obregon has a deep accent, deeper than and different from Hector’s. His voice is rich and warm and just a bit more weathered than Jacián’s.
Kendall swallows hard. “How did he learn that?”
“It was a part of his soccer training. All of the soccer, basketball, and football teams at his old school learn to dance. Makes them better players.”
“Impressive,” Kendall says. No wonder he’s so fluid on the field, Kendall thinks. That twinge inside her grows stronger. She feels like she’s drooling. And there, across the room, are Nico’s parents, watching her. Kendall tears her eyes away from Jacián. She weaves through the group of people crowded at the door and slips out, down the hallway and outside to where she can breathe. She takes one last look at Jacián through the picture window and then walks out into the yard, the chill of evening feeling delicious on her sweaty skin. She walks past the still-smoldering fire pit and heads toward the horse barn, breathing in the scents of fall. Leaves crunch under her feet. She takes in the deep night, the bright stars. The silence of air.
The horse barn is locked up for the night. It figures, considering the strange stuff of Cryer’s Cross these days. Kendall sinks to the grass and leans up against the barn wall, staring into the night. Thinking.
About everything. Nico. And college. Jacián and how hot she feels lately when she’s around him. And then the guilt comes again. Pounding her, beating her up.
Alongside that is the crazy, otherworldly scariness of the desk. And again, now that she is alone, she wonders if there actually might be something real about it. What if it truly is Nico? What if he is trapped in the school, being kept tied up by . . . by old Mr. Greenwood? And maybe he is allowed to roam the school at night, leaving messages for Kendall?
But why wouldn’t he leave them on Kendall’s desk? And if it were Nico doing the graffiti, how could he make the new stuff look like it had been there for years—and why would he want to?
Kendall thinks she knows now. She’s pretty damn sure.
Because that desk, the desk that makes people disappear, is possessed.
And maybe so are the people who touch it.
It dawns on her. There’s no kidnapper. There’s absolutely no need for this crazy buddy system. Kendall could wander Cryer’s Cross naked in the middle of the darkest night and nobody would kidnap her.
It’s not a who.
It’s a what.
She shudders violently. “Fletcher! You’re crazy,” she reprimands. “Knock it off already.”
A stick crackles, as if Kendall’s outburst startles someone. Kendall whips around and scrambles to her feet. She peers into the darkness. Her heart pounds. She backs up to the barn as tightly as she can, as if its size and structure can give her strength.
A figure appears and stops abruptly as if it senses her.
Kendall freezes. “Who’s there?”
“It’s just me,” Jacián says. He walks toward her, peering through the darkness. “Your parents are here. They’re worried because they couldn’t find you.”
“Oh.”
“I said I knew where you were and that you were fine.”
“Oh,” she says again. Flustered. “Did you?”
“I saw you go out.” He stands there a moment. “So you should probably go back inside and prove that for me now, so I don’t get interrogated again. For the third time.” He turns and starts walking back to the house.
“Jacián,” Kendall says.
“What?”
She jogs to catch up to him, not knowing what she intends to say, only that she doesn’t want him to walk away. “You’re a really good dancer.”
“So are you.” His voice is husky from working in the smoke all evening.
“You saw?”
His silence is affirmation enough.
/> Kendall shoves her hands into her jeans pockets, shivers a little. “When did you break up with your girlfriend?”
He’s quiet for a minute. “That night I went to your house. It was over between us months ago, when I moved. It just took us a long time to say it out loud.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shoves a hand into his pocket and looks up to the sky. “It didn’t seem like it would make any difference to you.” After a moment he turns toward the house and starts walking again, faster this time.
“Jacián,” she says again, and jogs after him. “Wait.”
“What now?”
“I . . . just . . .” She grips his arm. Feels her heart pound.
He stops. Turns toward her. “You feel like slapping me again?”
“Yes,” she says. She can hardly breathe.
He stands there for a moment, and then he slips his fingers behind her neck, weaving them into her hair, his breath warm on her face. He crushes his lips against hers, pulls her body close, closer.
Kendall can’t think. She reaches for his neck, his face, tentatively, moving to his chest, grabbing his T-shirt in her fingers. She can’t breathe. Doesn’t want to breathe. Just wants to forget everything.
Just as abruptly he pulls away. “What do you want, Kendall? Are you really ready for this? I don’t think you are.”
She gasps and takes a step back. “Shit,” she says. “I’m so sorry.”
He stares. “Me too.”
“You understand that I can’t . . .”
He closes his eyes wearily. Takes a deep breath, lets it out, and turns away. “You can’t,” he says. “You can’t do anything because of your missing boyfriend.” His voice is filled with bitterness. “Sure, I understand. Yeah, you just wanted to get a freebie, just a little something, so you can keep mourning without missing too much action. What’s not to understand? Besides the fact that it was obvious you two were so much more like brother and sister than boyfriend and girlfriend.” He doesn’t wait for her to respond. “Obvious to me from the moment I saw you.”
“You don’t know anything,” Kendall says.
“Maybe you should think about getting a different ride to school. How about your other boyfriend, Eli?”
“What, now you’re you jealous of Eli?” she blurts out. But then she gets control. “His car is full already. And maybe you’re right about Nico and me, and I just didn’t know any different.” She bites her lip, still tasting Jacián, hating herself for wanting to kiss him again. “Jacián,” she says quietly. “All I know is that Nico never made me feel like you make me feel. Nobody does.”
Jacián stands there a long moment, agonizing, and then rips his fingers through his hair and turns back toward the horse barn. “God, Kendall! Don’t. I can’t do this.” He swallows hard and looks away. “You do this, and I’m the one who looks bad.” His eyes bite through the darkness, but his voice is resigned. “I can’t keep being the bad guy around here.”
He turns away and jogs off into the darkness.
Kendall trudges slowly, numbly, to the house.
WE
We slumber, lying in wait, saving Our strength for the day. Now sensing, now quivering. Thirty-five, one hundred. Thirty-five, one hundred.
Redemption dawns.
TWENTY-THREE
Kendall goes to sleep thinking about Jacián, but at night her dreams are about Nico again, urgently trying to contact her through the desk. He pleads, cries out, begging her to find him, save him.
When she wakes up, sluggish and still exhausted, her heart is all mixed up about how she’s supposed to be feeling about guys and life and death. So conflicted. But the one thing that’s clear to Kendall is that she needs to go back there. Back to Nico’s desk one more time. Because if she doesn’t, she’ll never shake the feeling that his blood is on her hands, that she could save him if she just weren’t so stubborn.
The ride to school is quiet. Marlena, in the middle with a birthday-cake hangover, rests her head against the seat back and whines about how tired she is. Jacián drives stone-faced. Kendall aches. They are all lacking sleep for a variety of reasons.
Kendall knows that whatever happened last night, it’s never going to happen again. She’s devoted to Nico. She has to be. No matter what. At least until somebody knows something about what happened to him. She moves mechanically.
Jacián doesn’t speak to Kendall. Resolute, she goes about her morning routine and then, as if drawn in, she forgoes the pretense of starting at her own desk, and just sits at Nico’s.
She sees the new graffiti and is only mildly surprised. Recklessly she dives into that world, no resistance this time. She drinks in the words, running her fingers over them, hearing Nico’s voice calling to her. She rests her cheek on the desk, facing away from Jacián. Her throat catches when she hears Nico’s voice lingering over the short phrases.
Save me. I’m alive.
Say yes. I need you.
Come back.
“I’m back,” she whispers. “I’m here.” Not caring. Never caring again. “Yes, Nico.” Slowly she feels something fill her body, fill the emptiness inside.
Throughout the morning Nico’s voice grows stronger, more desperate. Over and over he begs Kendall to save him, to come to him, and she can’t pull herself away. Not that she wants to. She is forever in that moment just before sleep, that sweet hovering of a moment where nothing else matters. Sounds, urges, all is deep background noise. This, she realizes . . . this is truly where her brain doesn’t rule her world.
As Kendall floats to the sound of Nico’s voice for hours, something changes. His voice, it grows increasingly urgent, deeper, darker—like it’s inside her. Part of her now. Over time she realizes that the voice doesn’t really even sound like Nico at all anymore. And another layer chimes in, like in a round, chanting, Thirty-five, one hundred. Thirty-five, one hundred. But really, it doesn’t matter anymore in this floating world. She is trapped here. And she doesn’t mind.
Then the words change.
Beneath her cheek, swirling in whispers through her body. The words become cold and restless. Strong. Powerful.
Come to me.
Tonight.
Tell no one!
Only you can save me.
Thirty-five, one hundred. Kendall shudders in her surreal state. It’s as if all the warmth is sucked from the room. Still, she is caught there, alone except for the new, strange voice. She’s trapped by the mesmerizing feeling, the seductive timbre. She floats, shivering, the cold coming from within, and she is unable to snap out of it on her own. Unable to care enough to try. She is one with the voice.
She knows how it will be. She can see it now. There are pictures flashing behind her eyes—gravel road, long grasses, tangled vines, a fence—hints of where she must go. She accepts it. Accepts her fate as the one who must sacrifice something so that she can save Nico.
And they shall have her. Their way. It is the right way.
When Kendall shakes her at the end of the school day, she rises, sluggish, to her feet, takes her things.
“Are you okay?” Marlena asks.
Jacián fails at his attempt to ignore Kendall completely.
“I’m just so tired,” Kendall says, slurring her words. And she is. It feels like she hasn’t slept in a week. Yet she is aware enough to know that she has only one task on which to focus. One goal before it’s all over. One rule—that she must return tonight to save him. And tell no one.
Or Nico will die.
At her request Jacián and Marlena drop Kendall off at home. She trudges up to her bedroom and collapses onto the bed to daydream about seeing Nico again.
She pictures it, as if the desk is inside her, feeding her still. The back of her school, where she can enter through the always unlocked cellar door. And the place where Nico is—dark and spooky, fog rolling. Massive trees and overgrown brush too thick to pass through. An iron gate, rusty underneath miles of coiled, creeping vines.
&nb
sp; Before dark, before her parents get home from working, Kendall pulls herself out of bed and makes her way to the tool barn to collect the things she knows she’ll need. She selects a flashlight, a shovel, and a hedge clipper and returns with them to her bedroom. She packs the items into a canvas sack and puts it under her bed.
She feels weak for lack of eating; too weak to try to find something to make her feel better. So she stays upstairs to dream about what will happen when she reunites with Nico. Soon. When her mother comes to check on her, Kendall says she’s not feeling well.
She puts on her pajamas and pretends to turn in.
Come to me rings in her ears.
She doesn’t sleep.
At eleven p.m., her parents sound asleep, Kendall rises from her bed. She picks up the sack. At the front window she stops. Lingers and says a last good-bye toward Nico’s house. “See you soon,” she whispers. And then, quietly, she sneaks out of the house. Locking the door behind her. Putting on her boots outside on the step.
A cold wind slaps her face and she can smell snow. The wind is a shock to her system, almost enough to make her brain kick into worry drive. Something nags at her, walking so freely, alone, like she’s not supposed to be doing this, but she pushes the thought aside. She is going to save Nico now. This is her purpose. She says it under her breath as she walks, heel to toe, heel to toe. “Going to save Nico now. Going to save Nico now.” Her eyes are on her boots as she trudges and trips in the dark.
Yet she walks determinedly through the field, staying off the road so she’s not discovered. Tell no one. Twenty minutes later she lifts open the cellar door in the gravel behind the school. She steps down onto cracked concrete, her hair brushing low-hanging cobwebs, and walks past the storage room, where giant looming shadows of extra, unused desks taunt her. She climbs the interior steps that lead back up to the main level, and enters the classroom. She wipes a web from her face and stops in front of Nico’s desk.
She shivers uncontrollably in her nightgown. For a split second she hesitates, her brain suddenly whirring about the time when she broke down while playing soccer with Jacián, after the last time she sat at Nico’s desk. What if she’s making a mistake?