Ghost Hand (#Wattys2016)

Chapter 17, Explanations in a Tent

"My name is on the list," I heard myself say it. It wasn't a question. Of course my name was on the list. That was the reason Marcus had showed up in my Calc class out of the blue just before the CAMFers had come after me. And yet, the idea that my name was on that list hadn't occurred to me the entire time he'd been talking. Everything he'd been telling me had just seemed like a story.

A story about him.

Not about me.

Marcus didn't say anything. He just sat there looking at me.

"You never were a transfer."

"No," he shook his head. "I dropped out of school when I was sixteen, but it's pretty easy to enroll in a small town school and just tell them your transcripts are on the way."

"So, why not tell me all this from the very beginning? Why all the cryptic bullshit?"

"If I'd told you any of this at the beginning, would you have believed me?"

"No," I said. "Probably not." I barely believed him now, and I suddenly felt sick and achy and on the verge of tears.

"Hey, it's going be okay," Marcus said, reaching out and taking my ghost hand in his. He did it so naturally, as if it was something he'd been doing all his life. I had never met anyone so oblivious to my PSS. Even with my dad and Emma, there had always been an underlying awareness that they noticed my hand. It was different—different than other hands, different than their own hands, and they loved me, so that difference didn't mean "freakish" or "worse". But there was still no denying that it was different.

But with Marcus there wasn't even a hint of an awareness of that. Like he was blind, unable to physically see it. Or feel it.

"I knew you wouldn't believe me at first," he said, looking down at my hands. "No one does. And I knew it would be even harder to convince a girl that I wasn't just some kind of whack-job. But that isn't your fault. If you want someone to blame, blame me. I should have thrown you over my shoulder in that hallway at school and carried you out of there."

"Why didn't you?"

"Honestly, I was afraid you'd kick my ass."

"Really?" I said, emitting something halfway between a laugh and a sob.

"A little, yeah. But mostly I was worried about blowing my cover before I'd convinced you I wasn't a lunatic. I also didn't want the CAMFers to see us together if they were watching you. I didn't want to panic them into snatching you before I did."

"You didn't snatch me," I protested. "I was already leaving the hospital. You just came along for the ride."

"Fine, you snatched me then," he said, that cocky smile playing at his lips. He was definitely flirting with me and, as if to prove it, his index finger brushed the inside of my wrist, making it hard to think. Still, something was niggling at the back of my mind. Something big that had to do with us leaving the hospital.

"Oh my God!" I said, yanking my hand from his. "What about my mom? She has no idea where I am. And Emma. And her parents. They must be freaking out."

"They think you ran away," he said. "Here, I'll show you," He got up and retrieved his laptop, bringing it back to set it in my lap. He pushed a button, and the inbox of my e-mail account popped up on the screen. I had twenty-three unread messages.

"Hey, how'd you get into my account?"

"Nose is a computer geek," Marcus explained, pointing to an e-mail with the subject line: Olivia, PLEASE answer this. It was from my mom. I clicked on it.