Through Indigo's Eyes (32 page)

She's going to talk to you tonight
.

Why I heard those words in my head, I had no idea. “She's still with Burke,” I said.

Sarah rolled her eyes. “And I have no frigging idea why. I know he's hot and good at hockey, but he cheats on her all the time. I heard he was with Chelsea at a party. And Lacey is so beautiful; she could have any guy she wanted.”

At first I hadn't understood Lacey and her attachment to Burke, but looking back on my relationship with John, I did. She loved him.

I glanced at Lacey again, and suddenly a sharp pain hit me hard in the chest. Her heart was really heavy, and she was in agony, just like I was. Outside she looked gorgeous, with her dark hair curled to perfection and her red coat the exact right shade for her skin and her makeup flawless, but inside she was raw and hurting. Were they going to break up, too? What was going on with her?

“She deserves someone better,” I said to Sarah.

“So do you,” replied Sarah without taking her eyes off the ice. “Great hit!” She jumped to her feet and started cheering.

A player from the opposite team got smashed against the boards, and the glass rattled, sending waves of noise through the arena. The fans freaked out, and the ones sitting close to the glass started pounding on it. I thought it was going to break; it shook so hard. Cheers echoed throughout the arena, bouncing off the concrete walls.

“Man, I love those hits.” Sarah punched her hand. “Best part of hockey. Well, that and the fights.”

The smash against the boards had freed the puck and Burke raced toward it, his legs moving in long strides, his body hunched over. His skate blades scratched and crunched the ice. Being a fast skater, Burke reached the puck first, picked it up on his stick, and drove toward the net.

Suddenly I felt weird, really loose in my joints, and my limbs felt wobbly and the arena noises—bodies hitting the boards and sticks slapping the ice—pumped through my brain like loud metal music. The smell of greasy hot dogs and popcorn and beer burned my nostrils, and the fluorescent lights from the scoreboard jumbotron blinded me. Bright red numbers flashed, and I felt my stomach heave.

I had done this before. Felt this before.

I heard Lacey's voice—she was yelling, telling Burke to “skate,” and I swiveled my head toward the high-pitched sound. Of course, Lacey was intently watching Burke … but she wasn't yelling. Loud noises banged against the wall of my skull, and I turned back to the game.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

I held my hands to my head. This was way too familiar. Suddenly, my throat became parched. I needed water. My face flushed. Beads of sweat erupted on my forehead. I felt as though I had been struck with a really bad flu. I wanted to pass out. Blood. I smelled blood.

I looked at the ice again. Then I saw the defenseman for the other team. He was skating hard, too, picking up speed with every one of his long strides, his skates digging into the ice, making scraping sounds. He was heading right toward Burke, who still had the puck and was concentrating only on the net and the goalie. The other player wanted the puck, too; he wanted to take it away from him in whatever way he could, including a bashing cross-check or a trip. Burke was too obsessed with driving to the net to see the guy coming at him or, maybe, to care—his thoughts were only on scoring. Burke thought he was invincible, could beat anyone, because he was the best.

Suddenly the vision from Halloween flashed into my frontal lobe. The defense from the other team was coming at Burke and was going to accidentally smash into him, and Burke was going to crumble.

Brain. Brain.
I heard the words loud and clear, and then I felt the hard jab, as if a knife had pierced the middle of my forehead.

They were close to the net. The goalie crouched, placing his stick on the ice. Burke was going to get hit and ram into the post and hit his head, rattle his brain. My head throbbed, the pain blinding.

I had to stop this. I stood up and cupped my hands. “Burke! Look out!”

For a nanosecond, Burke looked in my direction, and I knew he had heard me. Or had I imagined it? How could he, with all the noise? But he heard me, I knew it … didn't he? I held my breath.

Burke looked to his side and shifted his weight slightly, just as he collided with the other player. The sound of two bodies crunching together reverberated through the building. My stomach careened, and I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder, as if it had been pulled out of its socket. My headache disappeared.

Burke catapulted through the air, flipping, twisting, and landing with a thud. Then he slid toward the goalie, headfirst, passing the metal goalpost by less than an inch.

The action stunned the crowd. Out of control, Burke knocked the goalie clear off his feet, sending the net flying as well. As the goalie landed on his back, Burke glided right into his sharp skate blade, neck first.

The arena hushed. There was an eerie quiet as everyone watched in shock.

Blood started squirting from Burke's neck, landing on the white ice, creating a huge red spot. The spot started small and grew as the blood kept spurting. A player from Burke's team immediately fell to his knees and put his hand on Burke's neck. The rest of the players yelled for help. The door to Burke's team bench swung open, and his team trainer sprinted out onto the ice, sliding in his running shoes but never losing his stride as he went full speed toward Burke. He got down on his knees beside Burke and pressed a towel into Burke's throat while he talked in his ear. Burke lay still.

The towel turned red. People winced and ohhed and ahhed and scrunched their faces as if they were the ones in pain. A woman sitting behind us heaved, sounding like she was going to vomit, the gurgling sound nasty in her throat. Security guards ran down the steps to help a woman who had fainted. Parents shielded their children's eyes from the sight on the ice. Security guards and police were suddenly everywhere.

The players on the ice stood in shock, many resting their chins on their sticks and looking to the ground, not wanting to see the blood on the ice. Some would take the chance and glance over but would immediately look away, holding their gloved hands to their mouths.

Burke lay motionless on the ice. Murmurs started.

“He's hurt bad.”

“Burke didn't see the guy.”

“Oh, gawd. This is awful. I can't look.”

“I hate seeing this kind of thing happen.”

Sarah turned to stare at me. “Indie,” she whispered, “how did you …” She trailed off. “Burke heard you yell at him. How could he have heard? That's not possible.”

I pressed my hands to my forehead. “I don't know,” I said. “I don't know how it happens.”

“He's losing a ton of blood,” said Sarah.

I glanced at Lacey, who was now down by the glass, looking at Burke, her hands covering her mouth, her eyes wide.

As if she felt my eyes on her, she turned and spotted me in the crowd. She looked so scared—and remorseful, like she was just figuring out that my vision about Burke had come true. Suddenly, the world in front of me stretched, and I felt as if I were moving through a motion picture; nothing was real.

The paramedics arrived and, in a flurry, brought the stretcher onto the ice, working like well-oiled machines. They talked to Burke and continued to apply pressure to his neck as they lifted him on the stretcher. As they rushed him away, the crowd cheered, and the players tapped their sticks on the ice. The refs huddled in a group to try to figure out what the consequences should be, or if there would be any. It wasn't really anyone's fault. The ice would have to be scraped, the blood removed before the game could continue. I shuddered, cold encasing me as if I were standing in the middle of a deep freeze. I crossed my arms over my chest. The loss of blood was making Burke cold. Again, Lacey glanced my way, and we connected through some sort of electrical energy. Her oversized pupils showed shock and unbelievable fear.

Then her pain hit my heart, and I struggled to breathe. The world around me swirled, and I wanted to move. And fast.

“We have to go to the hospital,” I said to Sarah, rushing my words. “And we need to take Lacey with us.” Before Sarah could answer, I had pushed by the knees and bodies of everyone in my row and was running down the concrete stairs. I grabbed Lacey's arm. “Come on,” I said. “Let's go to the hospital.”

Lacey and I ran up the stairs, picking up Sarah on the way. The three of us dodged bodies, not once saying excuse me. When we were finally in the parking lot, we broke into a sprint, and we didn't stop until we got to her car.

Huffing and puffing, we jumped in. I sat in the front with Sarah, my heart beating out of my skin, and Lacey sat in the backseat. Sarah fired up the engine and sped away.

“That's what you saw, isn't it? On Halloween?” Sarah could hardly breathe.

I nodded. I turned and looked at Lacey. “Stay positive. We have to think he will be all right.”

Sarah passed cars and sped through yellow lights to get to Ottawa General Hospital. After a horrible sideways parking job, the three of us ran through the hospital emergency doors. Sarah stopped and doubled over to catch her breath. Lacey frantically searched the halls for any sign of where Burke was.

The antiseptic smell hit my nostrils, and I had to breathe deeply to ease the nausea that bubbled in my stomach. Jitters took over my body, as if I had just drunk copious amounts of Coke. Adrenaline pumped through my body. My mind bounced, distracted, and I had to push myself to focus. I had to help Lacey.

By now, she was over by the administration desk, talking to the lady working. The woman was reading her computer. Lacey had her head between her hands, and her shoulders were convulsing. In an instant, my body slowed down. I walked toward her.

“Lacey,” I said softly.

She looked up, her face a waterway of tears. “I didn't listen to you.”

“That doesn't matter right now.” I looked at the woman. “Where is he?”

“Intensive care unit.”

“Can she see him?” I asked the woman.

“Sorry, not right now.”

“Do you know if he's okay?”

“Are you family?”

“I'm his girlfriend,” whispered Lacey.

“I'm sorry. I can only give out information to direct family members.”

I took Lacey's arm and walked her over to some chairs. “But I
should have
listened,” she mumbled. Her eyes were vacant, hollow. From across the hall, Sarah gave me the thumbs-up, then pointed down the hall and mimicked smoking.

“It's okay.” I touched Lacey's arm. “What good would it have done? He still would have played.”

“But maybe he would have kept his head up. Or maybe he would have been more aware. Or maybe he would have just sensed something.”

We sat down. “You need to focus on Burke and hang on to hope that he will get through this. You have to send him love.”

She tilted her head. “I do love him, you know,” she said almost wistfully. “No matter what, I love him. I can't help it.” She touched my arm. “And, Indie, I know he loves me back. If he makes it to the NHL, he wants me to go with him.” She paused to pick a piece of lint off her beautiful red winter jacket. “I'm not sure I want to, though.”

I put my arm around her shoulders. “Believe me, I do understand your love for Burke. No matter what, you have to think positive thoughts,” I said.

Suddenly, she turned and looked at me, her pupils huge. “Can you see something? Can you see if he lives?” She shook my arm. “Indie, can you see?”

Sweat poured from my forehead, and I took off my jean jacket. I wished I weren't so hot and clammy. Maybe if I closed my eyes.

I shut my eyes tightly and tried to concentrate on seeing something. But nothing appeared. No pictures. Nothing. I tried to conjure up any little fragment that would give me a clue whether Burke would live, but all I got was a blank piece of paper and nothing more.

I kept trying to see something, but nothing appeared in front of me. I remembered the vision about the black and gold jersey I had seen last fall. Maybe I had seen it and couldn't tell him because he had to go through this first. Maybe he wasn't supposed to play for the team, but do something else for them instead. Had I missed something? Maybe this was to come true, but in a different way. Were my visions sometimes just sequences? Riddles?

I really didn't understand so much of what I saw and heard and felt. Sometimes things were clear and happened exactly as they came to me. And other times, like this, or like with Nathan, it was as if I had been given a puzzle to figure out.

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. Lacey was staring intently at me, breath drawn, desperately searching my face for a sign that I had good news.

Although I wanted to lie and tell her I'd seen Burke alive, I slowly shook my head. Lies didn't get a person anywhere. I'd learned that the hard way. “I can't see anything,” I said. “I'm so sorry.”

“Do you think that means something? If you can't see anything, maybe he's not going to live.” Her voice bordered on hysterical. “What does it mean when you can't see something? Indie, what does that mean?”

“I don't know. I don't think I have any answers. I think Burke's future is all with Burke. It's all up to him right now. It's his choice whether he lives or not.”

She grabbed my arm. “I don't want him to die. Earlier today, I told him to die and go to hell. It wasn't supposed to mean anything. Now I wish I could take my words back.”

I gathered her in my arms, and her body immediately went limp. I honestly thought if I let her go, she'd turn into a puddle on the floor. I held her tightly for a few seconds. “You didn't mean to say that to him. I know you didn't.”

She started to sob, and I let her cry. After a few minutes, she pulled back and wiped her face with the cuff of her coat. “But I did say those words.” She shook her head. “I was just so sick and tired of him always cheating on me. I know he was with Amber before.” She lifted her head and tilted it back so she was staring at the hospital ceiling, then she blew out a rush of air. After a few seconds, she looked at me. “You were right about Amber. And I knew it when you told me, but I didn't want to admit it. And I know she's not the only one. I want Burke to love
me
and only be with
me
.”