family, I was aware of what was happening.
“Brent, get back in your body! I know you’re scared and in pain but get back in there, now.”
“I’m not sure I can. I didn’t mean to project, it just happened. What’s going on?”
“You’re having an allergic reaction.”
“I don’t have any allergies.” Brent’s forehead wrinkled. “I mean, my family has some, but I’ve never had a problem with it before.”
“Can we talk about this later? The ambulance is on its way, but it’ll never get here as long as you’re projecting, creating a little time freezing bubble.”
“I know. Just give me a minute.” He concentrated hard and then reconnected his spirit and body. I did the same and time snapped back to normal. Cold shivers racked my whole body—the price I paid every time my spirit left. I winced at the renewed sound of Brent’s futile gasps.
My mom ran into the room with the cordless phone cradled under her ear and a bottle of antihistamine liquid in her hand.
“Here,” she said, handing it to Vovó, who held the whole bottle up to Brent’s mouth and tipped it past his lips. He coughed and sputtered as a couple of swallows of the syrup managed to make its way down his swollen throat. My tears ran down my cheeks before falling onto our entwined hands.
“You’re going to be okay. Just hang on, Brent,” I said as the sound of a siren filled the air. “They’re almost here.” Brent nodded and held my hand. I squeezed his fingers reassuringly, hoping my touch comforted him until the paramedics arrived and removed him from my care.
Chapter Four
My Dad and I followed close behind the ambulance all the way to the hospital. In the emergency room waiting area, we settled into the hard plastic chairs.
The large number of ghosts hanging around the hospital shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. I was glad the dead didn’t carry the wounds they died with. To a Waker like me, they looked pretty normal, aside from being dressed in the outdated clothes they wore at the time of their death—and yes, there are some very naked ghosts running around.
Several spirits milled around in hospital gowns, others stood in circles talking. One argued with the receptionist as she typed away and another yelled at a passing doctor that if he had listened to her, his patient would have survived. I hadn’t been to a hospital since my Waker abilities had fully developed, and I knew if I sat here long enough eventually the ghosts would sense my ability to see them.
I fingered the green bead clasped in my hand that Vovó had given me as the paramedics were loading Brent into their van.
“The spirits won’t notice you with this,” she had said. “I don’t usually approve, but tonight you need it.” I had nodded, not sure why she was giving it to me. Now I understood. The hospital had a lot of ghosts in residence.
The room had plenty of live people too, many of who were bleeding, coughing and sneezing. I tried not to share their air, afraid I would become infected with something. I picked up one of the old magazines that lay discarded on an empty chair and flipped through it while we waited, trying to keep my mind from worrying about Brent. Since we weren’t family, the receptionist refused to give us any information. His parents lived about fifty miles away in Laguna, and were on their way here. I had called them to let them know what had happened, or at least as much as I knew.
The drone of the TV playing in the background accompanied the steady stream of people coughing and phones ringing. An announcement played over the intercom but the message broke off mid-word, the phones stopped ringing abruptly, and the TV’s murmur died. My hand had been flipping the magazine page but halted mid-flip, and refused to move any further, paralyzed with the rest of my body. It only took a second to understand what had happened: Brent had projected. I let my mind relax, focusing on my spirit loosening itself from my
“Brent, get back in your body! I know you’re scared and in pain but get back in there, now.”
“I’m not sure I can. I didn’t mean to project, it just happened. What’s going on?”
“You’re having an allergic reaction.”
“I don’t have any allergies.” Brent’s forehead wrinkled. “I mean, my family has some, but I’ve never had a problem with it before.”
“Can we talk about this later? The ambulance is on its way, but it’ll never get here as long as you’re projecting, creating a little time freezing bubble.”
“I know. Just give me a minute.” He concentrated hard and then reconnected his spirit and body. I did the same and time snapped back to normal. Cold shivers racked my whole body—the price I paid every time my spirit left. I winced at the renewed sound of Brent’s futile gasps.
My mom ran into the room with the cordless phone cradled under her ear and a bottle of antihistamine liquid in her hand.
“Here,” she said, handing it to Vovó, who held the whole bottle up to Brent’s mouth and tipped it past his lips. He coughed and sputtered as a couple of swallows of the syrup managed to make its way down his swollen throat. My tears ran down my cheeks before falling onto our entwined hands.
“You’re going to be okay. Just hang on, Brent,” I said as the sound of a siren filled the air. “They’re almost here.” Brent nodded and held my hand. I squeezed his fingers reassuringly, hoping my touch comforted him until the paramedics arrived and removed him from my care.
Chapter Four
My Dad and I followed close behind the ambulance all the way to the hospital. In the emergency room waiting area, we settled into the hard plastic chairs.
The large number of ghosts hanging around the hospital shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. I was glad the dead didn’t carry the wounds they died with. To a Waker like me, they looked pretty normal, aside from being dressed in the outdated clothes they wore at the time of their death—and yes, there are some very naked ghosts running around.
Several spirits milled around in hospital gowns, others stood in circles talking. One argued with the receptionist as she typed away and another yelled at a passing doctor that if he had listened to her, his patient would have survived. I hadn’t been to a hospital since my Waker abilities had fully developed, and I knew if I sat here long enough eventually the ghosts would sense my ability to see them.
I fingered the green bead clasped in my hand that Vovó had given me as the paramedics were loading Brent into their van.
“The spirits won’t notice you with this,” she had said. “I don’t usually approve, but tonight you need it.” I had nodded, not sure why she was giving it to me. Now I understood. The hospital had a lot of ghosts in residence.
The room had plenty of live people too, many of who were bleeding, coughing and sneezing. I tried not to share their air, afraid I would become infected with something. I picked up one of the old magazines that lay discarded on an empty chair and flipped through it while we waited, trying to keep my mind from worrying about Brent. Since we weren’t family, the receptionist refused to give us any information. His parents lived about fifty miles away in Laguna, and were on their way here. I had called them to let them know what had happened, or at least as much as I knew.
The drone of the TV playing in the background accompanied the steady stream of people coughing and phones ringing. An announcement played over the intercom but the message broke off mid-word, the phones stopped ringing abruptly, and the TV’s murmur died. My hand had been flipping the magazine page but halted mid-flip, and refused to move any further, paralyzed with the rest of my body. It only took a second to understand what had happened: Brent had projected. I let my mind relax, focusing on my spirit loosening itself from my
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