Betwixt

Grabbing my bag, I weave around the tables and squat down next to him. I wave my hand in front of his face, but he doesn't move. His eyes keep sca

Holding my breath, I slowly stand and lean down so my lips are right next to his ear.

"Can you hear me?" I whisper.

The book drops onto the table with a loud bang. Dale looks as though he's about to go into cardiac arrest. Everyone in the library looks his way. The librarian frowns and shushes him, while my table of friends all start to snicker.

I want to crumple to the floor with relief. Who cares if it's Dale? Someone can hear me.

"Dale, I-" Tears make my voice shake.

He stands up and with shaking hands gathers up his things.

"Dale?"

He doesn't even bother to pack his stuff away properly, just shoves it in his bag as he makes a beeline for the exit.

I follow him and manage to squeeze through the door before it closes on me.

"Where are you going?" I have to run to keep up with him.

He keeps walking, gripping the shoulder strap of his bag as if it's a lifeline.

"Dale, please stop. I can't keep up with you."

We speed down the corridor and turn another corner. Why won't he listen to me? I know he can hear me. Does he really hate me that much?

His pace is getting faster and I finally have to stop. Leaning over, I let out a little scream and stamp my foot.

"Damn it, Dale. STOP!"

His pace slows. I draw in a couple of deep breaths and keep walking towards him.

"Look, if this is about the Scarface comment, I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry! I didn't mean to say it and I felt really bad afterwards."

I can see his shoulders heaving as he goes to turn the next corner.

I raise my voice even higher as I run to catch up to him.

"I know I should have said it months ago, but it's not like you've given me any chances."

He shakes his head. I know what he's thinking, even if I had had the chance I probably wouldn't have. I hate that he's right.

Desperation floods my system as he strides around the next corner, I stop in my tracks and am on the verge of tears. Slumping to the floor, I wrap my arms around myself.

"Define irony," I mutter. "Someone can actually hear me, but they don't want to listen."

I shake my head and sniff. Liquid burns my eyes and I know if I shut my lids, big fat tears will soon be rolling down my cheeks.

This isn't fair.

"Nicole?"

I glance up at Dale's whisper. His face is pale and he looks pretty edgy, but he is walking down the corridor... back towards me.

Rising from the floor, I brush off my jeans and clear my throat.

His eyes dart my way and he starts speaking to the locker just right of me.

"It's not about the comment," he looks over his shoulder before stopping a few feet from me, still facing the lockers. "It's about the-"

"I'm standing to your left."

He turns his head, obviously a

"It is. I swear I'm not messing with you. I don't know why you can hear me, but you seem to be the only person who can. Please, I need-"

He suddenly laughs, not a happy sounding laugh, but one of those verging on hysteria ones.

"I'm talking to a ghost, right? You're a ghost or something?"

"I'm not dead."

"I heard. What are you? Why can I hear you?" He points to his head with a shaky finger.

"I don't know."

He shakes his head and turns to leave.

"Please, Dale, I'm not dead, but I will be if someone doesn't help me."

My loud outburst is followed by a stony silence. He hitches his bag higher onto his shoulder and lifts his chin. I can sense him gearing up to stride away again, but then his shoulders slump. He lets out a heavy sigh.

I wait in agitated silence, my boot tapping out a nervous staccato on the corridor floor... not that anyone can hear it.

Moving in painfully slow motion, Dale spins back around to face me. I can't read his expression; there is a depth to his eyes that's unfathomable. His whole demeanor has changed, his laughter has scuttled away and I feel like I'm staring at a seventeen year old... man.

Dropping his bag to the floor, Dale whispers, "What's happened to you?"

"I'm not sure. I mean, my mind is here, but my body..." my voice starts to quiver, "I'm lost in the forest somewhere and I don't know how I got there. I can't remember anything."

"What's the last thing you do remember?"

"Amber was driving me to study group... at Matt's house."

Okay, that was new. Images of Matt's huge log cabin home flutter through my brain. Loud music floated down to the lake where we were all standing. Drue and Nixon were throwing stones into the water; Trent had his arm around my shoulders and was drinking a Corona. Matt was standing way too close to Pe

Dale snorts in disgust.

"Study group? Don't you mean the party?"

I nod, still a little dazed from images of Amber and Charlie playing tongue twister.

"Nicole? Am I right?"

I'm about to snap at him for making me answer twice, when I remember he can't see me. I clear my throat.

"Yeah, the party... whatever you want to call it."

He looks serious as he nods and tucks a curl behind his ear. "Okay, so you left Matt's house and..."

"I don't remember leaving Matt's house." I squeeze my eyes shut. "My head hurts... and I can't remember."

Dale's features flash with concern.

"You must have a head injury."

"I do. I hit my head and my arm is killing me and I think I've busted up my leg."

"How do you know that? Can you feel it?"

"No, I went back to my body. That's how I know I'm not dead. I woke up and I'm down this steep slope, surrounded by trees and everything hurts. When I tried to move I blacked out again. I don't know what to do. I... I'm... What do I..."

My voice shakes as swift tears rise.

"Shhhh," Dale whispers gently. "It's okay. I-"

He holds his breath, hesitating.

I can't take my eyes off him as his face washes with varying emotions. The reluctance is hard to miss, but his head is bobbing. The movement is minute, but the hope within me clings to it. Finally he swallows and the nod becomes pronounced.

"I'll help you. I will." He nods again. "Just walk with me to my next class and tell me everything you know, okay?"

His voice is tender and sweet as if he's talking to a five year old. For some weird reason, it's the most comforting thing I've heard all day.

I wipe at my tears as the bell trills. With a few little sniffs, I shuffle up next to him and we walk to class in silence.

Once he's seated, he pulls out a blank piece of paper and writes.

Tell me everything you can see.

"You mean when I'm in my body?"

He nods.

I start talking, describing the embankment in as much detail as I can. He nods, trying to make it look as though he's just paying attention to the teacher. Every time he wants to clarify something, he stops me with a written question.