Part 8 (1/2)

The road, built up like a causeway, wound through the swamp here, with deep ditches on each side. Everywhere she looked there seemed to be water, with only a few patches of soggy-looking land rising above the surface here and there. Dense thickets of mangrove stood above the water, and odd stumplike objects protruded from its surface, as if this had once been some kind of forest.

Birds were everywhere, bobbing on the surface of the water, wading in the shallows, and soaring overhead. Twice she saw alligators basking in the mud, but they seemed unaware of her presence, ignoring her as she pa.s.sed.

As she moved farther from the town, a feeling of peace began coming over her. After a while she realized what it was. Back in Atlanta there had been the continuous noise of the city all around her: the hum of cars, trucks grinding as they s.h.i.+fted gears, rock music pouring out of boom boxes-a steady stream of sound that, though she'd never realty been aware of it, had simply always been there.

Here there was nothing but the songs of birds, the rustle of the wind in the cypress trees, and the splas.h.i.+ng of fish and frogs in the water.

Then, from ahead, she heard the roar of a motorcycle approaching. A moment later there was the blast of an automobile horn, quickly followed by another, and then a car came roaring around the bend in the road, shooting past her so fast she barely had time to get off the pavement.

”Creep!” she shouted, glaring at the car as it raced away.

Silence. Where was the motorcycle?

Kelly stood still, listening.

What had happened?

Had the car hit the bike? But the driver would have stopped, wouldn't he? And wouldn't there have been a crash?

Then she knew what had happened. The car had almost run her down-it must have run the motorcycle right off the road.

She broke into a run, and found what she was looking for a few seconds later.

The motorcycle lay in the ditch; the body of a boy lay beside it. Kelly froze for a second, afraid that the person might be dead. If he was- But before she had time even to finish the thought, the person by the bike moved, slowly sitting up. Kelly darted over to him. He looked up at her, and when their eyes met, Kelly's stomach tightened.

She knew him.

But that was crazy-she'd never seen him before in her life.

And yet something inside her insisted she knew him.

”You're from Atlanta, aren't you?” she blurted.

Michael shook his head, his eyes still on the odd-looking girl who was standing a few feet away. He had the strangest feeling, as though she were someone he knew. But that was crazy, because from the way she looked, she couldn't be from around here. None of the girls in Villejeune dressed the way she did, and there sure weren't any with pink hair. ”I've never been to Atlanta. I mean, I've been there, but just to the airport. We were going to Chicago once, and we changed planes there.”

Kelly frowned. It was really weird. He didn't look like anyone she knew, and yet somehow she was certain they knew each other. And then she remembered the boy in the swamp last night.

She hadn't gotten a good look at him, really. It had already been getting dark, and she'd only seen him for a second. ”Were you out in the swamp last night?” she asked.

Michael frowned. How had she known? Had she seen him there? And if she had, why hadn't he seen her?

Maybe he had.

Maybe it was one more thing he didn't remember.

A chill crawled up his spine, and he s.h.i.+fted uneasily. ”Were you?” he countered.

Kelly hesitated, then nodded. ”I was walking along the ca.n.a.l near my grandfather's house, and I saw someone. I thought it might have been you.”

Now it was Michael who hesitated, searching his mind for any hint that he might have seen the girl before.

There was nothing.

Except that there was something familiar about her.

It was her eyes. There was something in her eyes that he recognized. But what?

”I was out there,” he said at last. ”But not by the ca.n.a.ls. They're on the other side of town.” But he might have been there. He was in a boat, and he might have gone anywhere.

Kelly gazed at the boy, feeling his eyes fixed on her, too. If he didn't know her, then why was he looking at her that way? And then she remembered. He was dressed the same way as the kids she'd seen in town-a pair of khaki pants and plaid s.h.i.+rt, and even though his clothes were stained, and there was mud in his hair, she could tell he wasn't any different from them at all.

He thought she was some kind of freak.

”How come you're staring at me?” she demanded, summoning all the hostility she could muster.

Michael took a step back. ”I-I keep feeling like I know you, too.”

Kelly hesitated-was he just trying to get to her? ”Well, if it was you I saw, then you saw me, too,” she finally challenged.

”I guess maybe so,” Michael said uncertainly. Then, without thinking about it at all, he told her the truth of what had happened to him in the swamp.

Kelly stared at him. It was exactly what had happened to her last night! Maybe they had had met, even though neither of them remembered it! Maybe they'd even talked to each other. met, even though neither of them remembered it! Maybe they'd even talked to each other.

”M-My name's Kelly Anderson,” she said, suddenly feeling shy.

Michael grinned crookedly. ”Now I know who you are. My dad's your grandfather's lawyer. I'm Michael Sheffield.”

Together, the two of them pulled the bike back onto the road, and after checking it for damage, Michael tried to start it. On the third attempt the motor caught. Michael stole another look at Kelly. He'd never seen anyone who looked quite like her before, except on television.

Yet there was something about her that appealed to him, despite her pink hair and strange jewelry.

Something about her that was different from any of the other kids he knew, something in her eyes that set her apart.

That was familiar.

Then he knew what it was.

Despite her looks, he was certain that inside, behind the strange clothes and makeup, she was just like him.

Filled with those awful feelings of being somehow different from everyone else.

”Y-You want a ride?” he asked, expecting her to refuse.

But instead of refusing, she nodded. ”I think I'd like that,” she said. ”Where should we go?”

Something flickered in Michael's eyes, then was gone. But when he spoke, Kelly had the feeling he wasn't quite telling her the truth. ”I have the day off,” he said. ”Maybe we should get some food and have a picnic.” He turned the bike around and climbed on, then steadied it while Kelly mounted the buddy seat behind him.