The Thrashers(56)

Jodi stepped forward. “I’m sober. Can I go?”

The woman nodded. They loaded up, and Jodi climbed in, buckling herself awkwardly against the wall.

Paige was propped up, wires sprouting from her like vines. She stared out the back window as the ambulance took off, her skin gray and her eyes empty.

Cheryl Montgomery called Jodi’s phone, and Jodi assured her that she was with Paige and that she would wait at the hospital until Cheryl came. They arrived at the hospital and took Paige to a bed in the trauma bay. It was very much, and yet nothing at all, like Grey’s Anatomy. She took the chair by Paige’s bed and waited as the EMTs filled in the doctors. Paige had to answer tons of questions about illegal drugs, saying every time that she’d only had one puff of a joint with her alcohol.

When the doctors eventually left them alone, Paige pivoted her neck to Jodi, something eerie in the way her head twisted.

“I saw her. She’s been trying to talk to us,” said Paige, smiling widely like she’d solved a math problem. “Jodi, the pictures. The texts. The inhaler. We were right.”

She opened her mouth to deny that she was part of a we and thought better of it. “Tell me what you saw.”

“I was on the football field or something. It was really, really bright, and I was lying on my back, staring up at the sky…” She blinked twice and turned to Jodi. “That might have been the ‘walk toward the light’ thing they tell you about.”

Jodi nodded. Her fingers were cold as she thought about Paige being so close to that. Being so calm about it now.

“And I looked to my right, and Emily was there, lying in the grass with me. It was so bright, I could hardly see her. She told me not to look at the sun. To look at her. ‘It’s not time yet,’ she said.”

Chills crested along Jodi’s arms as she remembered the dream she’d had of Emily in the hospital after the drive-in.

“She told me she’s been trying to talk, but we’re not listening.” Paige’s eyes were bright. “She said something about safety, like we’re not safe? And then I felt like I was … sinking into the ground, lower and lower, and she leaned over me and said something, like an afterthought. Like it wasn’t even for me—”

“What did she say?” Jodi was leaning forward, elbows on knees.

“‘I’ll protect you.’”

Jodi jerked upright, heart hammering.

“Isn’t that strange?” Paige went on. “But then I woke up.”

The curtain around Paige’s bed flew open with a rattle of clicking plastic rings. Cheryl Montgomery burst in, pushing Paige’s hair from her forehead, asking Jodi questions without waiting for answers, screaming for a “damn doctor,” ignoring Paige’s protests.



* * *



On Monday, Paige found Jodi in the art building at lunch. “I want to speak to a medium,” she said with bright eyes.

Jodi chewed her sandwich slowly before swallowing. “The one your aunt goes to?”

Paige nodded. “I want to know what Emily wants. How to get her to stop.”

The Reeds had been very upset to hear that their stereo system’s faulty wiring had almost killed Paige. They apologized profusely and had it inspected immediately. The electrician couldn’t find any reason why Paige had received that shock.

“Who was the text from?” Jodi asked. “The one that made you go get your phone?”

“No clue. It was a different number than before, but I think it’s the same person.” Paige showed Jodi her texts.

189. No context. Just the digits.

“Do you know what it—?”

“One hundred and eighty-nine days since she died,” Paige said, pocketing her phone with a grim expression. “I counted. I called it, and it rang and rang.”

Jodi’s chest felt cold. She took a deep breath. “Have you told Greg? Or your lawyer?”

Paige shrugged. “And say what? ‘Someone is asking about our summer, suggesting hair colors, and sending random numbers?’ It isn’t really threatening taken apart like that.”

Jodi nodded. When she met Paige’s eyes, they were intent.

“Will you come with me to the medium?” Paige said.

Jodi wanted to remind her that the texts could be from anyone, that freak accidents happen. But the words from Paige’s vision rang back to her:

I’ll protect you.

Jodi swallowed thickly, and that familiar feeling like she was sinking returned.

“Yeah, I’ll go.”



* * *



Paige’s aunt Bette had been seeing a medium since she was twenty-two, when her mother died. Paige’s mom had thrown herself into work and spin class instead, not understanding her younger sister’s need to speak to their mother every two weeks.

Bette brought Jodi into her arms with a tight hug, her long, wavy blond hair just like Paige’s. “Paige talks about you all the time, Jodi.”

The three of them had lunch at Burr’s, where Jodi heard a lot of stories about Bette’s medium, Nan, and how she accurately predicted 9/11.

“My uncle Rich—he died when I was twelve,” Bette said, shaking a sugar packet before ripping it open and dumping it in her iced tea. “He shows up every time I see Nan. It’s like he’s in a waiting room, just hanging out, looking for a window to peek through.” Bette rolled her eyes and sucked on her straw.