The last minute, p.14
The Last Minute, page 14
“Hey, Ivy! I heard you killed Hayes in PE!”
Eunice’s head snapped up and the colour sort of drained from her face. Rissa began to shake her head.
“Oh, my god,” she said, a laugh of disbelief just on the edge of her voice. “What the hell is that about?” When I didn’t answer, she turned back around and called out to Josh. “What happened?”
“She stabbed him with a javelin. Firefighters had to cut it to make him fit in the ambulance!”
I slammed my elbows on the table and threw my head into my hands.
“Is he all right?” Rissa asked.
“No idea,” Josh said.
“Jeez, Ivy. I knew you two were having problems, but—”
“Problems?” Frowning, I lifted my head to look at her. “What do you mean?”
“Mattie said you don’t even talk to each other in Art anymore. She said it’s pretty chilly back there.” She cracked open her can of energy drink and took a sip. “Did you have a fight or something?”
“Does it matter?” I asked. “I stabbed him with a javelin. He’ll probably never want to speak to me again.”
Eunice suddenly got up and ran for the door, leaving her barely touched lunch behind. Rissa frowned as she watched her go.
“I didn’t mean to,” I said. “It was an accident. I suck at PE.”
“Yeah, you do. Honestly. I’m surprised the two of you have survived as long as you have. Basketballs to the face, road rash, stabbings . . .”
“Just in the leg.”
“Yeah, I figured it was something like that. If it were really serious, Josh wouldn’t be joking about it.”
“Well, somebody better let Eunice know before she thinks her soulmate died.”
She laughed and shook her head. “If there is such a thing, I doubt she’s his. You might be, though.” She peeled open a packet of ketchup and squirted it into a corner of her cardboard bowl.
“I think we’d be the opposite of soulmates,” I said. “I doubt soulmate interactions are supposed to be so violent.”
“All those incidents were accidents, weren’t they?”
“Yeah.”
She shrugged and popped a fry into her mouth. “I don’t think you can rule anything out, then. You’ve obviously got some kind of . . . I don’t know. Some kind of magnetism thing going.” She wiggled her fingertips together, then dove back into her fries. I realized I hadn’t even bothered to get my lunch from my locker. Did I bring one? I wondered. I couldn’t remember. Not that I was hungry. I was too worried to be hungry.
I pulled out my phone and checked the local news stories, fearing I would see something about how a local high school student had died in a freak PE accident. But, of course, there was nothing. Even if he had died, his parents would have to be notified, and only then would some sort of article appear . . .
“Is he answering?” Rissa asked. I looked up with a frown.
“What?”
“You’re not calling him?”
I shook my head. “His phone’s probably in the locker room. He wouldn’t have had it on him.”
“Too bad.”
“Yeah.” I dialled him, just in case, but of course it went straight to voicemail. So I sent a text message.
IVY: Call me when you get this. Let me know if you’re dead or not.
And then I stuffed the phone back in my bag. The only thing I could do now was wait.
“Were you trying to kill him?” I hissed at Austin as soon as the boy appeared on my bedroom floor that night. I’d been waiting, sitting in the chair so I wouldn’t fall asleep and miss him. He sat up, looking around for a moment before he spied me.
“What?” he asked, somewhat sleepily.
“When you appeared right in front of me on the field. I was holding a javelin, you asshole. What were you trying to do?”
He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then dropped his hand with a little smirk.
“It’s not funny!” My voice very nearly came out in a shout. I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down, but that was easier said than done. All I wanted to do was throttle the ghost sitting in front of me. Or stab him with a javelin and see how he liked it.
“He’s fine, Ivy.”
“That’s beside the point. What the hell were you doing?”
“Are you on speaking terms again?”
I just stared. And then I lunged toward him and took a swing at his head. My fist went right through it. He scowled up at me.
“You think that’s going to work?”
“I could’ve killed him!”
“I doubt it. You’re not that strong.” He stood up. Like his brother, he was a good head taller than me, so it was a little intimidating when he stepped forward. “He’s fine.”
“How do you know? You haven’t been to the hospital. Aren’t you tied to this house?”
“Not exactly.”
I frowned, then remembered the reason I was angry in the first place. “You’re tied to me, aren’t you?”
“Looks like it.”
“Why?”
“No idea. Maybe because you’re connected to Kemp.”
I shook my head. “Yeah, well, I might not be for long. I don’t even know if he’s still alive.”
“He is.”
“How do you know, if you’re tied to me?”
“Believe me. I’d know if he were dead. He’s probably still in the hospital, nursing his wounds and waiting to hear from you.”
Sighing, I went to sit on the edge of my bed. “I doubt that.”
“Did he tell you to get lost or something?”
“No, he held my hand. But he probably thought he was dying. When the adrenaline wears off, he’s going to be pretty pissed that I almost killed him.”
He rolled his eyes. “You didn’t almost kill him.”
“I’m not an idiot, Austin. Deaths can happen after a non-fatal injury, too. Don’t you remember that Civil War soldier who lost his legs?”
“Don’t you remember that you live in the twenty-first century with antibiotics?”
“They don’t always work.”
He shook his head in exasperation. “What the hell does he see in you?”
“I honestly have no idea. But whatever it was, I’m sure it doesn’t matter now.”
With another roll of his eyes, he waved his hand in my general direction. “Get out your phone. Call him.”
“I already did. He hasn’t answered. He probably doesn’t have his phone.”
“Call my mom.”
“How am I supposed to do that? I don’t have her number.”
“I do.”
I waited, my eyebrows raised in anticipation. But he didn’t tell me. All that happened was that his expression slowly changed, deepening into a puzzled frown.
“I don’t remember,” he said quietly. “I should remember, but . . .”
“You probably don’t remember because it’s not important. Not for someone like you.”
“Someone dead, you mean?”
“The dead don’t use phones, do they? When they want to communicate, they just appear in the middle of someone’s bedroom floor, or stand in front of a javelin thrower so some innocent kid gets stabbed.”
“You threw it, not me.”
“Don’t pin this whole thing on me,” I whispered loudly, my voice a grating hiss. “If you hadn’t jumped in front of me, none of this would’ve happened.”
“Would you be on hand-holding terms with Kemp right now?”
“Like I said, he was just scared. He’s sure as hell not going to speak to me after this.”
Austin’s lips turned up on one side. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“We’ll see,” he said.
The first thing I did when I woke up the next morning was check my phone for messages. But the text I’d sent the day before was unanswered and unseen. My hands shook as I did another search through the news, trying to tell myself that he probably just didn’t have his phone back yet. There was still nothing about any javelin stabbings, so I put my phone in my bag and got ready for school.
It wasn’t until just before my first class that my phone buzzed. I pulled it out, my heart pounding, and saw the two ridiculously small words that caused an oversized amount of relief:
KEMP: not dead
I nearly cried. Instead, I hurried to class and slid into my seat so I could have a couple of minutes to chat. But he didn’t seem to be in a very chatty mood, because I didn’t get a response to my first question (Are you okay?) until the teacher started talking, and I didn’t even have time to glance at my phone before I stuffed it back in my bag.
When the class was over, I pulled out my phone and hurried through the hallways, trying not to smack into anyone while I attempted to type. I already seemed to have a reputation for being dangerous in PE. I didn’t need that to extend to my walking.
The last message he’d sent was just a thumbs-up emoji. I quickly tapped out my message:
IVY: I’m so sorry. I need to tell you what happened.
He didn’t answer. Frowning, I plowed my way through the crush of students until I reached my next class. Then I kept my phone on my lap, out of view, waiting for his response. Finally, I got the notification that he’d read it . . . just in time for the teacher to start talking. I let out an audible groan before I could stop myself.
“I’m sorry, Miss Ross. Is my class that boring?”
I looked up to find Mr. Wall staring at me. One of the guys behind me snorted, though he tried to turn it into a cough. Mr. Wall had about as much sense of humour as a piece of cabbage; I doubted he even knew how to laugh. Shaking my head, I slid my hands over my phone to try to hide it. But he could obviously see what was going on under my desk.
“Turn it off and put it in your bag, please.”
I did as he said, and quickly, too, not wanting to give him any excuse to punish me . . . or anyone else. I didn’t particularly want to be the reason we got an extra helping of homework.
The third of that morning’s classes was English and, luckily for me, the teacher was late. I slid into my seat and pulled out my phone again. This time, there were two messages from Kemp.
KEMP: lunch
And then, as if he’d thought better of it:
KEMP: no wait after school my house
I quickly typed in my response:
IVY: Are you sure?
This time, he answered right away:
KEMP: yeah mom will pick us up
IVY: What happened to your car?
KEMP: nothing cant drive a standard with one leg
I sent a frowny face and left it at that.
He wasn’t in the cafeteria at lunch, but everybody else—seemingly everybody who’d heard about the incident—was. So I had to hear a number of weird congratulatory comments, mostly from guys.
“Is Kemp not that popular?” I asked Rissa while Eunice was busy feeding her change into the drink machine on the other side of the cafeteria.
“What?”
“Why does it seem like I did all these guys a favour by stabbing him?”
She shook her head with a smile. “They’re guys. It’s like some weird badge-of-honour thing. He’s cool for getting stabbed. You’re cool for doing it.”
“That’s messed up.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a high school. These places aren’t exactly known for high levels of logic and sanity, are they?” She poked at her fries with a shrug. “He’s pretty popular. I mean, he was before his brother died.”
“He’s not now?”
“I don’t know. Not like he was.”
“Who is not like he was?” Eunice asked, sliding into her usual seat. Rissa frowned at the bottle she was holding.
“What the hell is that?”
“Orange juice.”
“Why?”
“I need to stop having so much sugar.”
Rissa flipped a curl over her shoulder. “Whatever.”
“Who is not like he was?” Eunice asked again. “Who were you talking about?”
“Who do you think?” Rissa asked. “Ivy just wanted to know if Kemp was popular before Austin died.”
“I wasn’t here yet,” she said.
Rissa rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know.”
I double-checked the cafeteria again, just in case I’d missed him, but he didn’t seem to be there. It was with a weird, nervous energy that I finished up my classes for the day.
As I walked out to the pick-up area, I spotted him from behind, sitting on the wooden barricade that ran along the edge of the sidewalk. A pair of crutches sat propped up beside him. Despite the cool weather, he was wearing shorts. I didn’t really understand why until I rounded the barricade and saw the brace on his left leg. He turned at the sound of my footsteps and smiled.
“Hey.”
Before I could overthink it, I bent over and gave him a hug. He laughed a little, then awkwardly put his arms around me. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, pulling back to look down at his leg. Under the brace, I could see the white bandages that covered what I was sure was a fairly sizeable wound. I sat down beside him, still staring at his leg.
“I’m not. It’ll be a great story to tell my grandkids.” He cleared his throat and spoke again, this time in a hoarse, wobbly voice. “‘Did I ever tell you young’uns ’bout the time Ivy impaled me with a piece o’ gym equipment?’”
“I am never going to live that down, am I?”
“Aim that spectacularly bad should be celebrated.”
“I wasn’t aiming for you.”
“I know.”
“I was trying not to hit Austin.”
He blinked slowly, staring straight ahead.
“Sorry,” I said. “I forgot the rule.”
“Screw the rule,” he said quietly. He turned to face me, his eyebrows pulled into a deep frown. “What the hell do you mean?”
I shook my head. “I’m not talking about it here. People already think I’m some sort of homicidal weirdo. I don’t need them thinking I’m batshit, too.”
He grunted and pulled his phone from his backpack. I watched his thumbs tap the screen, a little miffed that he was going to have a conversation with someone else when I was sitting right there.
“Why weren’t you answering?” I asked.
“Huh? When?”
“Today. Is there something wrong with your phone? Your response time was awful.”
He turned to me with a look that made me feel like I’d missed something important. “Can you text and use a pair of crutches at the same time?”
“Oh. I doubt it.”
“I’m not that coordinated.” He paused, then typed something else. “I’m not coordinated, period.”
“You’re a pretty good runner.”
“I’m human. We’re built for running.”
“You’re okay with a discus.”
“I’ll be sure to put that on my résumé.” He tapped the screen to send the message. In my bag, my phone began to buzz. Frowning, I pulled the device out, staring at Kemp the whole time. He just raised his eyebrows a little and remained silent.
KEMP: u can tell me now just type it
I glanced at him, then shook my head as I began to type.
IVY: It’s complicated.
KEMP: y
“Seriously?” I said with a laugh. “You’re that lazy? You could at least capitalize it.”
He grinned and bent his head back over his phone.
KEMP: Y
IVY: That’s better. Does your leg hurt?
KEMP: what was that about austin
IVY: He appeared on the field.
Kemp: when
IVY: PE. Right before I threw the javelin.
KEMP: so u thought it would b better to hit a living person than a ghost thanks
“That wasn’t it at all,” I said. “It was some sort of reflex. I was just trying to avoid the very real-looking person standing in front of me. I didn’t know you were going to run out there and throw yourself into the path of my javelin.”
He snorted. “That sounds kind of dirty, Ivy.”
While I rolled my eyes, he turned back to his phone.
KEMP: did he say anything
IVY: No. He just stood there.
KEMP: then what
IVY: I don’t know. I was kind of distracted after that.
He chuckled as he put his phone into his backpack. I was kind of surprised that he didn’t want to talk some more, but then I saw him start to gather up his crutches. He hopped a little as he got them situated under his arms and nodded his chin toward a black SUV that had just pulled up in the loading zone. He hobbled toward it, crutches clicking.
“Mind getting the door for me?” he asked. I scurried forward and pulled open the passenger door. A middle-aged woman sat in the driver’s seat, and it didn’t take more than a glance for me to realize she was Kemp’s mom. She smiled at me, then frowned in concern as she watched her son struggle into his seat. When all his limbs were safely inside the vehicle, he handed the crutches to me. “They’ll fit between the seats.”
I got in the back and managed to manoeuvre the crutches into the indicated space where they wouldn’t impale any of us in the event of an accident. Then I quickly buckled my seatbelt. His mom glanced at me in the rearview mirror before pulling away from the school.
“Mom, this is Ivy.”
“Ivy?” she said, in such a way that I knew he’d told her about me. She probably already knew I was the reason he’d had a metal spear impaled in his leg.
“Hi,” I said, which seemed completely inadequate. But I wasn’t about to apologize yet, just in case she didn’t know I was behind the incident.
“So you’re the girl with terrible aim?”
“Mom.” Kemp craned his neck to shoot an apologetic look at me. “Sorry.”
“I’m really sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to hit him.”
“I know,” she said. “What did he expect, running out onto the field when people were throwing spears?”
