Under the Light - By Laura Whitcomb Page 0,51
breath.
“Okay.” Billy shifted his weight off me.
The room was back, the sky and the grass were gone—the ordinary daylight of autumn was almost blinding. I searched the ceiling and desk and clock. There was just me and Billy.
“This will sound crazy.” I sat up and slid away from him.
“I doubt it,” said Billy. “Compared to what?”
My throat tightened up—I didn’t want to say anything about what I’d just seen. I didn’t want it to sound like a dream, or a daydream, something I made up that means nothing. My eyes were hot—tears started down my face.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked.
I shook my head no. I was embarrassed to be crying in front of Billy.
“Are you scared? We don’t have to do anything else.”
“I’m not scared.” My voice broke. “I was thinking about somebody . . .” I couldn’t explain it.
Billy watched me, sitting on the side of the mattress. At first he held my hand. “Like who? Your parents?”
I shook my head, trying to dry my eyes with my bare hand.
“Like another guy?”
“Sort of.”
His grip on my hand relaxed, his fingers slipped away. “A boyfriend.”
“No,” I said. “It’s stupid. I don’t even know his name or where he lives.”
“A guy you like?” he asked. “From school?”
“No.” I took a sharp breath, trying to suck my tears in and stop acting like an idiot. “It’s ridiculous.”
“I’m just not him,” said Billy. “That’s the problem, right?”
“No,” I told him. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“But you can’t stop thinking of him when you’re with me?”
I wanted to climb onto the roof and hide.
“I get it.” Billy stood up and grabbed his shirt from the floor. He pulled it on, right-side out this time. It had a picture of a zombie on it. He sat on his desk chair.
“I think I met someone during the time I had amnesia,” I told him.
Billy studied me for a long moment. “It’s him, the ghost who was in my body.”
I’d wondered that before, but no, it still didn’t sound right. “I don’t think so.”
“You’re remembering him, that’s why you can’t think of his name.”
I shook my head. “When I left my body I didn’t go to school or here,” I said. “I was far away. Where there was lots of sky and air.” It sounded so childish, but that’s the best way I could describe it, because it was just on the outside edge of my memory.
Billy stared me—all the color had faded out of him.
“Our bodies were here, but our spirits weren’t,” I told him. “Where did your spirit go?”
He shrugged. “Maybe my spirit was asleep.” Then he picked up my sweater and held it out to me. “I’ll take you back to the library. If you want me to.”
It felt like he was kicking me out. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Forget everything I said.”
“It’s okay. I get the idea.” He was still holding out the sweater, so I took it. “I’m not mad,” he told me.
I pulled the sweater on and looked around for my shoes, but I knew I should say something else.
“It’s not like we’re in love,” he told me, but the more he talked, the less he sounded okay. “People I love end up in the hospital or jail. Better to stay clear of the curse.”
“Don’t be stupid,” I said. “You’re not cursed.” Even though I had been feeling like there was someone else and that kissing Billy was sort of like cheating, the idea that Billy wasn’t in love with me and that he didn’t want to be my boyfriend anymore made me feel sick to my stomach.
“Here.” He put my shoes into my hands in a rough way that made me stare at him. Looking embarrassed, he backed away a step, bumped into his desk, and leaned against it. “Sorry.” He sighed. “Take your time.”
As I was putting on my shoes the bedside table shook again and another gust of cool air rushed at me—I could feel the pressure of icy fingers gripping my arm, pulling me to my feet.
But Billy wasn’t touching me.
“What is it?” he asked.
Then we both heard a car door slam. I ran into the hall, hoping I could act as if Billy and I were visiting in the living room instead of his bedroom. The front door opened just as I was struggling to get my heel into my second shoe, balanced on one foot in the entryway. Billy set my book bag down next to me