An hour later, Kylie paced half-moon circles in her tiny room, making almost the same path as the ghost-the ghost who'd vanished without even trying to answer Kylie's question. But the skittish spirit hadn't faded before Kylie noted the sheer panic on her face.
Not that Kylie didn't empathize with the ghost.
How many times had Kylie heard the same damn question? What are you? Or rather, What the hell are you? Frankly, she didn't like either version.
But did either question instill panic or fear?
Frustration, maybe, but fear? Okay, maybe in the beginning it had scared her, but only after she'd accepted there was a possibility she wasn't human. Should she assume the spirit suspected she wasn't human? Kylie recalled the look on the spirit's face. It was as if the question sent up a red flag or stirred up some forgotten memory. And not a good memory, either.
An eerie chill filled the air, announcing the return of the ghost, and Kylie hugged herself.
"I'm sorry," Kylie said. "I know you're confused. Believe me, I know how you feel. There's a hell of a lot I'm trying to figure out about myself, too." The cold ebbed away. So the ghost wasn't up to talking. Kylie empathized with her on that point as well.
She had almost run to Holiday with questions about the spirit's lack of a brain pattern. Then, because Kylie suspected Holiday would want to go into all the other issues they needed to discuss, she decided to postpone asking the questions. And by issues, Kylie meant her newly acquired gift of healing, knocking down concrete walls, and the possibility that she was a protector. The healing and the walls, she might be able to handle. The whole protector/Mother Teresa thing? Nope. That could go unhandled for a while longer.
And it wasn't as if she were procrastinating, as Holiday accused her of so often. She was prioritizing. Right now, her top priority was Derek and the on again/off again signals he put out. How could he want to be her shadow when two weeks ago he wouldn't even look at her? Had he experienced a change of heart? Did she want him to have experienced a change of heart?
She considered it. Remembered how close she'd felt to him when they'd snuck off and he'd kissed her senseless. She even missed how he'd made everything look like a fairy tale. What she wouldn't give to be in a fairy tale right now and not have to deal with all this mess.
But did that mean if he said he was sorry, she would forgive him? After she made a few more laps around her small room, she came to the conclusion that her heart was too damn confused to know what she wanted.
As if to drive the point deeper, she had an instant recall of how it had felt when Lucas kissed her. No fairy-tale visions, but she couldn't, wouldn't, deny that it had felt pretty awesome.
Damn!
She slung herself on the bed. She was so friggin' messed up. She gave her pillow one good punch and then screamed into the fluffy down.
One deep breath later, she popped back up. She had to do something. Even if it was the wrong thing. After slipping into her tennis shoes, she grabbed her brush. She gave her blond hair a few swipes, slipped on a clean white tank top, and bolted out of her bedroom.
Della popped up off the sofa. "Hey."
"Hey." Kylie continued moving to the door, not wanting to explain where she was going because hearing herself say it aloud might make her think twice. And she didn't want to think twice; she hadn't really thought it through once yet. But she had to do something. She was tired of being in limbo.
"Where are you going?" Della asked.
"Out." Kylie reached for the doorknob. Instead, however, she ended up grabbing Della's waist, because Della had shot across the room in a flash and now stood blocking the door.
"Excuse me." Kylie tried not to let her mood sound in her voice. As moody as Della was, she had no patience for anyone else's bad mood. And getting into a pissing contest with Della right now wasn't in Kylie's plans.
"Where are we going?" Della asked.
"We aren't going anywhere. I'm going somewhere."
"I gotta come, too."
"No, you don't."
"Yes, she does." Miranda stepped out of her bedroom. "Kylie Galen, meet your first shadow, Della Tsang."
"At your service." Della's tone dripped with sarcasm. She even gave a little bow.
"Oh, screw this!" Kylie said. "I'm not leaving the camp. I'll be fine."
Della frowned. "You're not leaving the cabin unless I come with you." Her right hand landed on her right hip as if to punctuate her tone.
Kylie inhaled and tried to calm down before this got ugly. "Look, I want to go talk to Derek, okay? And I'm sorry, but I don't want you with me. This is private."
Della's pissed-off expression vanished into something that looked almost like empathy, and she glanced at Miranda. "You still think keeping this from her is the best thing?"