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

Dreaming. And he’s dreaming about me.
    I touch his hand. I close my eyes and try to see his dream, but there’s nothing but blackness. What I really want to do is kiss him. When am I going to have a better chance?
    I should just do it. My heart is already racing and I lean over and ever so gently touch my lips to his.
    And I’m in his dream again.
    We’re in an old shed. There’s a mattress on the floor. I try to look around, but my focus keeps returning to a pile of empty bottles, the mattress, and the closed door. I can’t see the ceiling. A dark haziness floats above us. Everything about Michael, though, is clearer than I have ever noticed before. He hates his hair—can’t wait for it to grow all the way out and trim off the bleached ends. He’s wearing contacts, suffers from eye strain, and has lots of headaches.
    “Don’t worry, Jessica, I won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you. Lie down here,” he says. He’s looking right at me and for an instant I can see my own puzzled face.
    The tingling fear that grips me releases the same haunting prickles I’ve felt when I’ve awakened in the dark from a nightmare. I push at the shed’s door and stumble out into a brightness that stuns me. I remember Rashanda for an instant then the brilliance of the light pulses before fading to a dreary gray that holds nothing but dread. Michael flies by me and I know he’s chasing Rashanda. Is this a memory or a dream?
    I chase him, grab his arm, and turn him toward me. “Michael!” I think hard and fast of what to say. “Sit down and tell me all about it.”
    Suddenly we’re in the last row of the auditorium, alone, but then there’s another row behind us and Hannah is sitting there. Silent.
    “It’s just fun,” Michael says, “and you were next. You should feel honored. It will change you. Like Amy. Like Rashanda. Like me.”
    “What will change me?”
    He leans forward to kiss me. Hannah is watching. I jerk away.
    If silence can clap its hands then that’s what I hear. From seeing his darkening face, so dreamy, to seeing his sleeping self just an inch from my nose startles me. I’m out of his dream and I know that his eyes are rolled back and he’s in a deep, dreamless state. The tingling persists and a hint of terror nips at my memory. I replay his words in my head over and over. I’m afraid of losing their meaning like a forgotten dream.
    The doorknob turns and I jump off the bed. I freeze, catch a hollow reflection of my face in the dresser mirror, and wait. The door opens a foot and Michael’s mother sticks her head in and frowns at her son. She doesn’t look my way. She whispers his name, testing him. Then she shakes her head and closes the door softly.
    Talk about getting into somebody’s head . . . huh. Apparently there are some advantages to being in a coma.
    And disadvantages. I look in the mirror again and see the blood stain spreading on my clothes from my waist to my knees.

 
    Rashanda
    Friday

     
    Maybe I just needed more sleep. Maybe seeing Jessica standing at the curtain was a crazy hallucination. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me.
    Or else seeing Jessica was the second sign.
    I apologized to her parents and got out of there. I found a waiting room that no one was using and thought about stretching out across the seats to take a catnap, but I didn’t even sit down. That little voice in my head was whispering ‘ everything is going to work out’ but it didn’t sound like my grandma this time. Maybe it was God.
    I stood at the window and looked out at the parking lot. People were coming or going, arriving in a hurry or leaving slowly. I saw Michael trail two adults, his folks no doubt, to a car parked across two lines. I couldn’t be angry at Michael for the accident. I knew he wasn’t driving the car, but my heart was a mix of emotions I couldn’t sort out.
    The family reached the car and doors were opened. I saw a figure, a transparent Jessica, run up and slip into the car