Read Online A Soul's Kiss by Debra Chapoton - Free Book Online

and promised to be back early in the morning with fresh things. We had a little argument when she wanted to take my phone. I had a moment’s panic when I imagined what she’d do if she looked at it, then I remembered that the last number I’d dialed was for 911 so I stopped arguing. There was a phone by the bed anyway so I could call out even if I couldn’t text anyone.
    I wondered how long the others had waited at the park. I fell asleep thinking about Emma, but I dreamed about Jessica.
    I hated hospitals and I hated nurses who wake you up every hour. I was glad Friday morning to get the heck out of there. My mom gave me my phone back and I sent a text to Jessica’s number: Sorry . I didn’t mean it, but that’s what you’re supposed to feel.
    I felt sorrier that I didn’t get a wheelchair ride out of the building. In the parking lot I had one of those “somebody’s following you” feelings all the way to our car. Maybe I was growing a conscience. I supposed I should have at least found out how my girlfriend was doing.
    And Jessica.
    I thought about Jessica all the way home and imagined her following me to my bedroom. I closed the door and tried to picture her in my bed.
    I wondered how I should act if she died so I started rehearsing the types of things people say at funerals. I tried out different phrases, but most of them sounded too corny or too girly.
    I plopped myself down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. I couldn’t keep my mind focused on a single thought. A million scenarios flitted through my head until one in particular started to play out like a dream. I was beyond drowsy and my entire body shook for an instant. No! I realized I was going to miss the football game.

 
    Jessica
    Friday

     
    I push open Michael’s door and slip into his room, swallow the breath mint, and close the door softly. He’s standing near the foot of his bed mumbling all sorts of apologies to me. How sweet is that! I hear him say Oh, Jessica, it was all my fault and Jessica, Jessica, so talented and pretty and Oh, man, I’m so, so sorry about this .
    My heart starts pumping harder. I can’t believe I’m in Michael Hoffman’s bedroom. It’s so neat and clean. Not at all like I thought a teenage boy’s room would be except for the framed sports posters. His bed is made, his dirty clothes are in a basket by the closet, his desk is tidy. I feel ashamed of my pigsty of a bedroom.
    “I can’t believe she’s dead,” Michael says, shaking his head. Who’s dead? Me? I move around so I can see his facial expression. He looks like he has just eaten a lemon.
    “I’m not dead, Michael,” I say, more to assure myself than him. After all, he can’t hear me.
    He covers his face with his hands and his shoulders shake like he’s sobbing. Oh my gosh, maybe Hannah died. That would be awful and it would be all my fault.
    Michael throws himself on the bed and his face goes blank. Oh my gosh, he must feel terrible. He looks like a zombie just staring at the ceiling. I sit down on the bed and am tempted to stroke his hand or his face. I really, really want to comfort him. I put my head close to his. His eyes close and his body jerks just enough to bump our foreheads.
    “Oh, Michael,” I say.
    And he hears me.
    *  *  *
    “Jessica, you have a flat tire. Let me fix it for you.”
    “Thanks, Michael. That’s so nice of you.”
    “Or maybe we could drive to the park.”
    I’m next to him in a car I’ve seen him drive. I don’t know how we got from his bedroom to the car. I have a fleeting image of a flat tire, the school parking lot, Michael’s hand reaching out, and then we’re sitting next to one another. I’m moving like a child of sludge and lightning. I’m both heavy and fast, light and slow at the same time. I gasp for air and jerk myself up and away.
    I look down on Michael’s sleeping face. What just happened?
    I stare at him, watch the movement of his eyes flitting back and forth behind closed lids.