“Feel what?” I answer, confused.
“What it’s like to recognize another Akhet,” he says. “It might help you believe what I’ve been telling you.”
“It’s okay.” Griffon holds his hand up to interrupt me. “I know this all sounds crazy.” He looks around at the empty sidewalk, unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt, and pulls the sleeves up. “This is why I’ve avoided touching you. It can be … overwhelming, if you’re not ready for it.”
Griffon puts his bare arms across his knees and turns to face me. “You can feel it through clothes once you’ve learned what to look for, but it’s easier without.”
Trying to avoid the mental image that statement conjures up, I turn toward him on the bench, inches away from his body. His arms are smooth, with strong ropey veins pulsing just under his brown skin. I carefully inch my sleeves up so that my skin is exposed and slowly reach toward him, willing my hands to stay steady and not give me away. So many times I’ve thought about touching him, about what his skin would feel like. What it would feel like to have him touch me.
Griffon jumps as soon as I touch him, and I can’t help smiling at the effect I’m having on him. “Your hand is freezing,” he says. “From the ice pack.”
So much for the laws of attraction. “Sorry,” I say, rubbing my hand on my pants to try to warm it up some. I take a deep breath as I gently place my arms on his, at first feeling nothing but the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his pulse as we connect. I can sense Griffon taking deep, even breaths, almost like he’s meditating. His eyes are closed, and I find myself staring at his dark lashes as they rest on his cheek. My heart is pounding so hard that I’m sure he can hear it, that the electricity racing through my blood is going to give me away.
And then I feel something different. At first, it’s faint, like a humming from deep inside, but as I focus my attention, it gets stronger and steadier, like the molecules between us are vibrating. It feels like a swarm of bees sounds—alive and thick with energy.
“I can feel it,” I whisper, wondering all the time if I’m just imagining things, if all this talk about Akhet and vibrations has got me wanting to find things that aren’t really there.
Griffon opens his eyes. “You’re really strong. Especially for such a new Akhet.” His face is serious, as if he’s trying hard to control something. He shifts on the bench and clears his throat. “Once you’ve been doing it a while, you can sense even the faintest vibrations—like the ones coming from Akhet who don’t know what they are yet.” He smiles at me. “Pull your hands away slowly,” he says quietly. “See if you can feel when it stops.”
I lift my hands the slightest bit, and the vibrations grow fainter. As my arms rise above his, the sensation grows weaker and weaker until, just an inch away from his body, I can’t feel it at all. “It’s gone,” I say, closing my eyes, trying to hide the emotions that are so close to the surface. I already miss the sensation of his skin on mine.
The sounds of the street seem to fade away as I feel Griffon’s fingers pushing back my hair, his thumb tracing my cheek. He says nothing, but I open my eyes to see him staring intently at my face, his expression a mix of sadness and relief. Biting his lip, Griffon leans toward me, but just as I lean in to meet him, he pulls his hand away and moves a few inches backward. I sit back too, the reality of what almost happened between us still forming in my mind. My heart feels like it’s fluttering in my chest, both from excitement at what might happen and disappointment because it didn’t.
“I’m sorry, Cole,” he says, looking away from me. “I didn’t mean to do that. It’s just that I—”
I wait for him to finish the sentence, but the words just hang in the air. “It’s okay,” I say, feeling the awkwardness fold in around us again. I put the ice pack back up to my head as my headache starts to grow.
Griffon sits back on the bench and studies the oncoming traffic. “Listen, I have baseball practice tomorrow, but it should be over around five. If you can get away, why don’t you come over to my house after that? I guarantee you’ll get a lot of answers to your questions. Maybe enough so that you’ll finally believe what I’m telling you.”
I can’t help my pulse racing at the thought of seeing him again so soon. “What, do you have some kind of manual hidden away that will give me step-by-step instructions?”
“Better,” he says with a mysterious smile as Dad’s car swings to the curb in front of us. “I have my mother. She’s Akhet too.”
Griffon smiles broadly as soon as I spot him on the sidewalk outside the BART station. Just the sight of him standing there in his jeans and a leather motorcycle jacket is enough to make my heart ache, and I realize in that split second that “want” is quickly being replaced by “need.”
“Glad you made it,” he says, placing his hand lightly on the small of my back to guide me down the crowded sidewalk, a gesture he never would have made before last night, and one I can’t help but notice. Even through several layers of clothes I can feel the steady hum of his touch, and have to concentrate on my surroundings in order not to give in to the sensation.
“It was pretty easy,” I say. At first Mom didn’t want to let me go out, but the bump on my head was almost gone this morning, so she relaxed a little. I just told her that I was having dinner at Rayne’s, and I feel surprisingly unguilty about the lie. As long as she knows my practice hours are logged in, she isn’t likely to check up. Sixteen years of playing the good girl is starting to pay off.
A hint of concern crosses his features. “How’s the head feeling?”
“Fine,” I say. “Not concussed at all.”
“Good. Janine’s been running around all day getting supplies for dinner,” he says.
“Janine?”
“My mom.”
I imagine what Mom would do if I started calling her “Sofia,” and it isn’t pretty. “Have you always called her by her first name?”
“No,” he says. “Not when I was really little. But when I started to be aware that I was Akhet, it just seemed more natural.”
“Aren’t … Akhet … always aware?” It’s the first time I’ve said that word out loud, and judging from the look of surprise he gives me, Griffon notices it too. I still think all of this is insane, but I don’t have any more rational explanation for what’s been happening. At least, not yet.
“Not exactly,” he says slowly. “A brand-new baby with the memories of all his past lives would be pretty creepy. Worse than those talking babies on TV.”
I grin. I love those talking-baby commercials. “So, what? Is there an age limit? On some special birthday do you get all of your knowledge in one go?”
“No. It’s not that organized. I regain my memories really early, like about three or four. I’ve heard for some Akhet it’s later. But it’s not in bits and pieces like you’re getting it now—it just seems like it’s all always been there, like knowing how to walk and talk.”
“That must make you one weird little kid,” I say.
“It used to,” he agrees. “In one lifetime, early on, I started correcting my Latin tutor on his grammar. Here’s this six-year-old kid who suddenly spoke perfect Latin. Considering I was Chinese at the time, it really freaked everyone out. My parents were convinced I was possessed.”
I laugh. “What did they do?”
“Called in an exorcist,” he says. When he sees my expression, he laughs too. “No, seriously, the Taoist version of one, anyway.” He shakes his head, remembering. “The guy did the whole bit—starvation, prayer, hours and hours of meditation. After that I learned to keep my mouth shut.”
“That’s hilarious,” I say. “Sad, but hilarious.”
“It is,” he says. “That’s why it’s been great having Janine around this time. She’s still my mom and all, but it’s more of a … partnership than anything else.” He smiles. “Drives my grandmother crazy.”
“She doesn’t know?”
“No,” he says. “Janine is the only other Akhet in the family. Nana just thinks we’re crazy hippies living out in
