18 Truths (8 page)

“Congratulations, you got a hundred,” Ruth finally said to me, handing back my test. She’d taken painstakingly long to grade my answers. She moved to stand in front of Nate. “I know you stayed up all night to study, Nate, and your hard work paid off.”

“It’s not a ninety percent though,” Nate said, looking down at his eighty-nine-point-five percent.

“We like to round up here at the Spirit Guide Training Academy. Showing grace is what we’re all about.” Ruth looked like she struggled to hold back a smile. “After lunch, the rest of our day will be filled with some more educational videos and going over any questions you might’ve had while studying.”

I nodded. “All right. What about tomorrow? It’s our last day with you, right?”

“Yes.” Her phone beeped, and she slid the device out of her pocket. “Ah, here’s a text from Riel now. He said he’ll have a special test for both of you tomorrow, a final
final
exam of sorts that will involve you taking part in a simulation he created.”

I’d dreaded the last day of spirit guide boot camp for many reasons, but especially now. Videos and reading were two pastimes in the middle of my comfort zone, but I was certain ‘simulation’ wouldn’t fall under that category.

orry I’m late. The Throne called me for an emergency,” Riel told us at eight-thirty. We’d been waiting for him a half hour.

“No worries,” Nate said. “We’re very flexible, as long as it doesn’t cut into our lunch break.”

Riel ignored him and continued. “The scenarios you’re training in today aren’t real. They will be figments of your imagination created by me. I fashioned them out of your experiences, much like your after-death purification process. When you’ve passed both of the tests together, then you’ll be card carrying members of the spirit guide club.”

All it took was one snap of Riel’s fingers, and Nate and I were in a NASCAR race, with Nate in the driver’s seat! The green flag already waved high in the air, and Nate stepped on the gas faster than I could’ve ever imagined. It felt like we were flying. For the first lap, I couldn’t stop screaming.

Once I calmed down enough to gather my thoughts, I realized Nate’s test was perfect because he hadn’t driven since he died in his accident over a year ago.

Then I heard Riel’s muffled voice coming over the headphones in our helmets, giving directions to Nate to fly high, then stay low, then to catch up with the number eighteen car because he’d made a deal with that driver to help us if we could keep up. Nate flew around the corner, the turn hugging us. After surviving the steep incline of the track, I laughed out loud when I realized the driver of number eighteen was Ash.

I slid up the visor portion of my helmet and waved to him through the mesh covered window, black specs from tire rubber flying through the little holes. Screwing up my nose, I caught a whiff of octane. The smell wasn’t like gasoline, making me gag. This fuel held the scent of raw power and made my eyes burn, flooding them with tears. I immediately slid my visor back down.

During the next two-and-a-half hours, the forty-three cars on the track rumbled with uncontrolled rage, thunderous applause vibrating in my ears. The drivers often ran in one to three packs, sometimes only inches apart, while traveling over 200miles per hour. Nate and I didn’t chat. He concentrated on driving the ride from hell, and I prayed harder than I ever had before, my chest heaving with adrenaline. Somehow, I felt horrified and exhilarated at the same time.

Just as I feared, “The Big One” came at the end, and we were one of the five cars involved in the crash. All I saw was a blur. Another car rounding turn one lost control and hit us. Suddenly, we fishtailed wildly. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as our car went completely sideways. We ripped through a thick cloud of smoke before skittering into a wall. Then the car went airborne a good fifteen feet above the track. Gravity did its job when the vehicle came down, end over end in an endless barrel roll. The car crashed against a guard rail, spewing flames and smoke with exploding pieces of machinery littering the track. The atmosphere remained eerily quiet for a moment, like a graveyard. The only sound came from wind flapping the race flags around the track, then the scream lodged tight in my throat finally let loose.

“Nate!”

The smell of burnt rubber made me choke. I couldn’t imagine anything being left of the vehicle, and as the smoke cleared, it revealed little more than a rolling cage with four flat tires.

Nate and I slipped off our helmets. He looked up and muttered a few choice words to the man upstairs, but to my surprise, not the using-Your-name-in-vain kind. Instead, Nate thanked God.

I gave him a few seconds as I surveyed the crash, the paramedics nowhere in sight. I squelched my panic though since I knew this was all part of the scenarios that Riel set up.
I think.

“Are you all right?” I yelled, my ears still ringing from the sounds of the crash.

He held up his gloved finger. “Just give me a minute to catch my breath.”

I undid my safety harness and crawled out of what was left of the car. Nate followed suit.

Holding onto him, I didn’t loosen my grip as I said, “For the first time ever, I’m glad we’re dead.” My voice sounded thick as I held back sobs.

Nate smiled, actually more of a grimace, like he was in pain. It’d have to be the emotional type though since our bodies couldn’t hurt in this realm. He leaned against the barrier, still intact, and sighed heavily. “Why do you say that?”

“Because if we were alive, we would’ve just died, and I haven’t had nearly enough time with you. At least now, no matter what happens, we’ll always have each other.”

He frowned. “I’m not sure about that. Do you really think I passed that test?”

“Well, Ruth told us yesterday that our tests would be about the fear of being out of control. But you can’t control something that’s out of control.”

Now he smirked. “You mean like fate? Destiny?”

“Exactly. Nobody knows what’s going to happen—not in a car on the way home from school, not on a sailing trip, not during a thunderstorm, not when you swallow an entire bottle of pills, not when you turn down Heaven to become spirit guides.”

Nate’s face looked like he had just walked out from underneath a dark cloud into the sun. “So control is an illusion. The only one who knows those things is God, and He’s the only one who can control anything, so I need to hand over my control to Him.”

I grabbed him by the front of his safety suit and gave him a lingering kiss. “You got it! But like Victor Hugo said, we also have to have courage for the great sorrows of life and patience for the small ones. We can’t always be waiting for the other shoe to drop, thinking the worst. Can I ask you something?”

He wiped the sweat off his forehead and seemed to hesitate as his eyes searched my face, but then he nodded.

“Why did you really want to become a spirit guide?”

He raised his bushy eyebrows. “I wanted to still feel needed.”

“What about what you need?” Even to me, my voice sounded slightly irritated.

“Olga, you’re all I need. Don’t you know that?”

He pinned me against the barrier, kissing me forcefully. We both slid down to the track while he let out a half-hum, half-moan. His mouth on mine was like the first sip of coffee in the morning, awakening every part of me. Our kiss slowed, taking our time as if we were only on a pit stop from a relaxing Sunday drive.

Then, suddenly, the ground we were on was no longer made of asphalt, but sand. Nate lifted himself from my body. I scrambled to my feet and brushed myself off, noticing as I did that we weren’t in our driver suits anymore. I wiped my hands on my jean shorts and T-shirt and studied the water and sky, a breath catching in my throat.

“Looks like we’ve arrived at your simulation safe and sound,” Nate said, a grin on his face. “Welcome home.”

“Mhmm. Let’s head to the pier. I have a feeling that’s where we need to be.”

As we strolled down the beach, I enjoyed the picturesque setting while residents and tourists swam, sunbathed, and ate leisurely picnics, ignoring the approaching storm. I thought of how anyone would be hard pressed to find a safer suburbia than our town of Grand Haven. Yet at this moment, the rasping breaths in my chest had me feeling like an asthma attack was inescapable, even though I knew my respiratory condition died when I did.

Light rain began to fall on us, and lightning flashed in the distance. This was most likely the source of my terror—a sixth sense for the coming storm. The lightning strike that caused me to lose Conner made me step outside of myself during the past year. Experiencing a trauma like that ultimately helped me better understand my place in the universe. The accident made me feel smaller than ever, but also freer, more capable of change, more capable of creating my own destiny rather than the one my parents had laid out for me. Before Conner’s death, I didn’t think I believed in fate, but as Nate squeezed my hand, I knew I did now.

“Are you scared?”

I shook my head. “To death.”

He laughed. “Where do you want to take refuge until the storm passes?”

I lifted my eyes to the sky, stars now twinkling in-between the rain clouds, a round moon illuminating the lighthouse at the end of the pier, where some kids—well, more like people my age—jumped into the water.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I knew the next part was going to be a whole lot of no fun. “I don’t think I’m meant to look for shelter right now.”

My heart beat so fast I couldn’t feel anything else. When I opened my eyes, every thought I had focused on those stupid, stupid people as I dropped Nate’s hand and instinctively ran toward the spot where they jumped. Jumping off Grand Haven Pier into Lake Michigan wasn’t like jumping off a diving board into a pool. Only the best of swimmers should even attempt the stunt, but the act was still prohibited and even more dangerous during a storm.

The waves were big, at least two feet, and choppy. As I searched for a lifeguard on duty, I knew of course, there wasn’t one. This was
my
test. Someone shouted “help” and the cry sounded achingly familiar. I didn’t have time to think as I slipped off my shoes and dived into the water. At least the water wasn’t as cold as the last time I attempted to rescue someone in Lake Michigan. The water temperatures were in the sixties during summertime. No hypothermia to worry about, I kept reminding myself.

I was still numb inside, but outside I was a force to be reckoned with. I couldn’t let another person die while I tried to save them. As I got closer, I realized the guy could pass for Conner’s twin if he’d had one. He tried to push toward the shore and tired himself out, then went under, but I couldn’t get to him yet. I was an experienced swimmer—maybe too experienced, given my history, and I’d been caught in the undertow numerous times, so I knew the best thing to do was swim parallel to the shore, then test for a weak part in the current. Still, panic wasn’t hard to come by when waves pounded against me like we were in a fist fight.

“Hang on,” I shouted. A rush of lake water filled my mouth, and I coughed the fluid up, then clamped my lips shut so I wouldn’t choke before I saved him.

Finally, I had my chance when the undertow let up. My numb hands cut through the water, legs kicking frantically. This wasn’t real like when I tried to save Conner, but the whole simulation felt real to me. I shuddered. What was the worst that could happen if I didn’t fake save him?
Oh, I’d probably be damned for all eternity.
I could not panic. The stakes were higher than ever. I needed this. The overwhelming desire was strange, the need to save this person. All the while, I knew I was really trying to save myself, so one day I’d have the chance to be able to save Conner again.