"That isn't true," I hissed at him through gritted teeth. "What Jesse and I have . . . it's something special. Paul knows that. That's why he's trying to ruin it."
Dr. Slaski looked interested in that.
"Is he?" he said with a little more animation. "And why would he want to do that, do you think?"
"Because . . ." I was embarrassed to admit it, but what choice did I have, really? I took a deep breath. "Because he thinks we should be together. Him and me. Because we're mediators."
A slow smile broke out across Dr. Slaski's dry, liver-spotted lips.
"Shifters," he corrected me.
"Shifters," I said. "Whatever. Dr. Slaski, it's not right, and you know it."
"On the contrary," Dr. Slaski said with a phlegmy cough. "It's probably the smartest thing that boy's ever done. Romantic, too. Almost gives me faith in him."
"Dr. Slaski!"
"What's so wrong with it, anyway?" Dr. Slaski glared at me. "Sounds to me like he's doing you a favor. Or the boyfriend, anyway. You think this Jessup - "
"Jesse."
"You think this Jesse likes being a ghost? Hanging around tor all eternity, watching you live your life, while he hovers in the background, never aging, never feeling an ocean breeze on his face, never again tasting blueberry pie. Is that the kind of life you wish for him? You must love him a lot, if that's true."
I felt heat rising in my cheeks at his tone.
"Of course that's not what I want for him," I said fiercely. "But if the alternative is never having known him at all - well, I don't want that, either. And neither would he!"
"But you haven't asked him, have you?"
"Well, I - "
"Have you?"
"Well." I looked down, unable to meet his gaze. "No. No, I haven't."
"I didn't think so," Dr. Slaski said. "And I know why, too. You're afraid of what he'll say. You're afraid he'll say he'd rather live."
I looked up sharply. "That isn't true!"
"It is and you know it. You're afraid he'd say he'd rather live out the rest of his life, the way he was supposed to, never having known you - "
"There has to be another way!" I cried. "It can't just be one thing or the other. Paul said something about soul transference - "
"Ah," Dr. Slaski said. "But for that, you need to have a body available to take the soul you want to transfer into it."
I thought darkly of Paul. "I think I know of one," I said.
As if he'd read my thoughts, Dr. Slaski said, "But you won't do that."
I raised my eyebrows. "Won't I?"
"No," he said. His voice was beginning to sound fainter and fainter. "No, you won't. He would. If he thought it'd get him what he wanted. But not you. You don't have it in you."
"I do," I said as fiercely as I was able.
But Dr. Slaski only shook his head again. "You're not like him," he said. "Or me. No need to get huffy about it. It's a good thing. You'll live longer."
"Maybe," I said, tears filling my eyes as I looked down at my hands. "But what's the point, if I'm not happy?"
Dr. Slaski didn't say anything for a while. His breathing had grown so raspy, that after a minute or so, I began to think he was snoring, and looked up, fearing he'd fallen asleep.
But he hadn't. His gaze on me was steady.
"You love this boy?" Dr. Slaski asked finally.
"Jesse?" I nodded, unable to say more.
"There is one thing you could do," he wheezed. "Never tried it myself, but I heard it could be done. Wouldn't recommend it, of course. Probably put you into an early grave, like I'll be, soon enough."
I leaned forward in my chair.
"What is it?" I cried. "Tell me, please. I'll do anything . . . anything!"
"Anything that doesn't involve killing someone, you mean," Dr. Slaski said and broke down into a coughing fit from which it seemed to take him ages to recover. Finally, lying back on his hospital bed, the horrible, body-wracking spasms finished, he wheezed, "When you go back . . ."
"Back? Through time, you mean?"
He didn't respond. He just looked up at the ceiling.
"Dr. Slaski? Go back through time? Is that what you meant?"
But Dr. Slaski never finished that sentence. Because midway through it, his jaw went slack, his eyes closed, and he fell sound asleep.
Or at least that's what I assumed.
I couldn't believe it. He's about to give me some really valuable tip on how I might be able to save Jesse, and suddenly his Excedrin PM kicks in? What's the deal with that?
I reached out to touch his hand, hoping that might wake him. "Dr. Slaski?" I called a little more loudly. When he still didn't respond, panic set in.
"Dr. Slaski?" I cried. "Dr. Slaski, wake up!"
My scream brought the attendant snorting back into consciousness. He was up and out of his chair at once, crying, "What? What is it?"
"I don't know," I stammered. "He - he won't wake up."
The attendant's fingers flew over Paul's grandfather's body, feeling for a pulse, adjusting IVs. . . .
Next thing I knew, he'd straddled the old man and was pounding on his chest.
"Call nine-one-one," he yelled at me.
I just stood there, not understanding. "He was just talking to me," I said. "We were having a totally normal conversation. I mean, he was coughing a lot, but . . . but he was fine. And then all of a sudden - "
The attendant had to say it twice.
"Call nine-one-one! Get an ambulance!"
That's when I noticed that there was a phone right there in the room. I picked it up and dialed. When the operator came on, I told her that we needed an ambulance and gave her the address. Meanwhile, behind me, the attendant had placed an oxygen mask over Dr. Slaski's face, and was filling a syringe with something.
"I don't understand this," he kept saying. "He was fine an hour ago. Just fine!"
I didn't understand it, either. Unless Dr. Slaski was much more ill than he'd ever let on.
There didn't seem to be much else I could do to help, so I figured I'd better go and tell Paul his grandfather had had some sort of attack. I got back to the living room just in time to see Kelly, seated beside Paul on the couch, her legs draped over his like a throw, stick her tongue in his mouth. . . . A sight I actually would have paid money to have been spared.
"Ahem," I said, from the hallway.
Kelly pulled her face off Paul's and looked at me sourly.
"What do you want?" she demanded. Given her animosity toward me, you'd hardly have guessed that we were currently president and vice-president of the junior class, and had to work daily (well, weekly) together in order to decide such important issues as where to go for a class trip and what kind of flowers to order for the spring formal.
Ignoring Kelly, I said, "Paul, your grandfather appears to be having a heart attack or something."
Paul looked at me through eyes that were half lidded. That Kelly sure has some sucking power.
"What?" he said stupidly.
"Your grandfather." I lifted a hand to push some hair from my eyes. I hoped he didn't notice how much my fingers were shaking. "An ambulance is on the way. He's had like a stroke or something."
Paul didn't look surprised. He said, "Oh," in kind of a disappointed voice . . . but more like he was bummed that his make-out session with Kelly had been interrupted than that his grandfather was, for all we knew, dying.
"Be right there," Paul said and started to disentangle himself from Kelly's legs.
"Paul," Kelly cried. She managed to give his name two syllables, so it came out sounding like Paw-wol.
"Sorry, Kel," Paul said, giving one of her calves a good-natured pat. "Grandpa Gork's OD'd on his meds again. Gotta go take care of business."
Kelly pouted prettily. "But the pizza's not even here yet!"
"We'll have to take a rain check, babe," he said.
Babe. I shuddered.
Then realized what he'd said. As he moved past me to get to his grandfather's room, I reached out and seized his arm. "What do you mean, he's OD'd on his meds?" I hissed.