Annoyed, Sarah left her full plate and followed me to the theater.
“Everyone out!” I called to the dance rehearsal that was happening in there.
They gave me a startled look, but I was in no mood for games as I waved them out and promised them extra rehearsal time later. Once they were gone, I dimmed the lights.
“What the hell is happening?” Sarah asked, her arms crossed. “Because Amy’s not talking to you right now, so I’m not supposed to either.”
“If Amy jumped off a bridge, would you do it too?” I asked, pulling her to the spot where Porsche had died.
I remembered Thomas’s boast echoing in my head. De Ritter Shields are so powerful they leave residual energy, even after they die. If residual energy worked the way I hoped it did, then Sarah could combine whatever power she had with whatever Porsche had left me. And knowing my ballerina, if she had any control over it, she would make it work.
I turned off the last bank of lights, making sure Sarah was standing in the right spot.
“Alright. Now concentrate.”
“On what?” she asked, her voice sharp.
“On… whatever it is Shields do to make themselves more powerful. I don’t know, Porsche never did anything.”
“And I don’t know how to do anything!” she protested.
I hushed her and looked around, checking out every corner of the rafters, every fold in the curtain.
For a while, nothing happened. And then, slowly, I felt the theater go colder.
It started around my feet, a white mist swirling, almost as if someone had turned on our fog machine. It crawled up my ankles, and then disappeared. I glanced at Sarah.
“Concentrate harder!”
She rolled her eyes, but did whatever it is she needed to do. The mist started again, crawling up my ankles and then rising, surrounding me before floating a few feet away. Slowly, it began to take the shape of a person, a woman, with shoulder-length hair, of average height, who bore the same features that I knew so well. They could be sisters, in the wrong light. And those eyes, those eyes that had often saved me, bore into me as it solidified.
“Hello, Liam,” said Amy’s mother. “I have been looking forward to meeting you.”
Chapter 19: Amy
“Amy! Amy! Amy! Amy!”
I had never been so annoyed in my life then when Sarah began pounding on my door at 8 am. For the last week, I hadn’t done much except stay in my room. I didn’t know whether it was a placebo effect or an actual effect of the disease, but I had been feeling lousy all week. And no one, not even my best friend, questioned the girl who now had AIDS. If I wanted to stay in bed most of the time then I could.
But apparently, Sarah had enough.
I dragged myself out of bed and opened the door. My head hurt, likely from lying down for twelve hours, and I winced as the light hit me.
“What the hell?” If she was here to tell me yet another thing about how sweet Connor was, I was going to kill her.
Grudgingly, I realized I was starting to sound like Liam. We had certainly spent too much time together.
“Get dressed.” She was super excited. “I have to show you something I found last week.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You found something last week and you are just telling me now?”
“Well, we had to make it… better first.”
“We?” I narrowed my eyes. “Who’s we?”
“Me…. myself and I,” she replied in a way that told me Liam was involved.
I shook my head and almost closed the door on her face, but she reached through the gap and grabbed my arm.
“No, Amy, please. You’ll like it.”
“Sarah…” I turned to meet her eyes, but she didn’t have a hint of humor in them. She was serious.
Sighing, I pulled her inside.
“Ok, ok, let me get dressed first. And then, if this is super lame, I’m never listening to you again.”
“Is there some symptom of AIDS that makes you bitchy to everyone who loves you? Can we get medication to control that?”
I sighed as I pulled a sweater over my head.
“I’m sorry. I’ve just been…”
“Don’t worry about it. This’ll make you feel better.”
I finished dressing and followed her out the door. Another time, I would have put on makeup and made sure I looked stage ready. But today, I didn’t care.