by Jenny Han
“Okay. Great.”
* * *
Ash is late, as always. I’m outside on the curb waiting for her. Just for fun I put on a Jar Island varsity sweatshirt and tied my hair up in one of my cheerleader ribbons. When she arrives, almost twenty minutes late, I climb into the front seat. We pick up Derek next, and then PJ.
I expect Ash is going to head straight to the ferry, since the next one leaves in a few minutes, but instead she makes a left and speeds toward T-Town.
“Derek,” Ash says, rolling through a stop sign. “Text Reeve and tell him to be outside in five minutes. If he’s not there, we’re leaving without him.”
I lean forward. “What? I thought you said he wasn’t coming.” If I’d known Reeve was coming, there’s no way I would have said yes.
“I guess he changed his mind,” Ash says with a shrug.
I pray that Reeve isn’t outside, that we will leave without him, but he’s sitting on his front stairs as we pull up. I flip down the visor and touch up my lipstick so I don’t have to make eye contact with him.
As soon as we get to the other high school’s gym, I say that I have to go to the bathroom just so I can make sure that we don’t end up sitting next to each other on the bleachers. On my way back I see two girls standing with Reeve at the bottom of the stands. I can tell he’s not interested in talking to them, because he keeps looking over their shoulders. But I still feel a pang of jealousy as I walk by, until I hear one of them mention the Montessori school.
Oh God. What if it somehow gets back to Mary that I’m here with Reeve?
I push the thought away. I don’t even know where Mary is. And I don’t think she keeps in touch with any of the Montessori kids from back in the day. I climb the bleachers, take a seat between PJ and Derek, and keep really focused on the basketball game, even though it’s insanely boring.
After the game everybody starts piling into Ash’s car, and I immediately go for the front seat again, but Derek shakes his head at me. “No way, Lil. You’re the smallest one here. You don’t get shotgun again.”
“Derek!” I protest. He is tall, though—like, basketball-player tall. Ash has to get on her tippy-toes to kiss him. “Come on. Be a gentleman!”
“Backseat, baby,” he says, pulling the seat forward so I can climb in. Reeve and PJ are crammed into the back, and there’s barely room for the two of them, much less me.
My eyes meet Reeve’s. “But . . . there’s no room.”
Reeve tips his head back against the seat. Looking straight ahead, he says, “Cho, just get in. We’re going to miss the ferry home.”
“You can sit in Reeve’s lap,” Ash advises me. “Or stretch out on top.”
This is basically the opposite of what Kat told me to do. Reluctantly I climb in between the boys. I perch as lightly as I can, half on Reeve’s thigh and half on PJ’s. PJ doesn’t move—he’s looking at his phone—but Reeve shifts as far away from me as he can and holds on to the handle above the window. “You can scoot back a little,” he says, his voice gruff.
“I’m fine,” I say. To Ashlin I say, “Let’s go.”
Ash starts the car, and we zoom out of the high school’s parking lot. Ash is always speeding. She’s gotten, like, a million speeding tickets in just the one year she’s been driving. The car is quiet except for Ash and Derek talking to each other in low voices. Suddenly the light turns red, Ash slams on the brakes, and I start to fly forward, but Reeve grabs me by the waist with both arms.
“Ugh, why do they have a stoplight on this road anyway?” Ash complains.
My heart’s pounding in my chest. Even though he doesn’t have to, Reeve’s still holding on to me tight, and just for a second I feel him sigh and fall his forehead against my back, but then, abruptly, his arms drop away from me. I think I can hear his heart beating fast too.
After the ferry ride back to Jar Island, Ashlin drops me off first. My mom’s light is off, and Nadia’s in her room doing her homework. I stop in to say good night, and we talk for a few minutes. I don’t even know what we’re talking about, because all I’m doing is thinking about him. And then Kat’s voice is in my head, telling me to shut it the eff down. This will only lead to trouble. She’s right. I know she is.
I go through my nighttime routine of a bath, drying my hair just a little bit and then brushing it. I put on my big Harvard sweatshirt and thick socks and get into bed, and then I just lie there in the dark for what feels like forever.
And before I can talk myself out of it, before I can go through all the reasons why not, I’m crawling out of bed. I’m fumbling around for my leggings and my bra and my big puffy coat. I’m stuffing my keys and my phone inside the pocket, and then I’m creeping out into the hallway. It’s dark; everyone’s asleep. I crack open Nadia’s door just to make sure, and she is.
Then I’m tiptoeing down the stairs, creeping out the back door, and running fast to my car. I don’t turn on the headlights until I’m out of the cul-de-sac. I don’t know what I’m doing. He might not even be awake. This is crazy.
As I drive, I keep thinking I should turn back around. I keep thinking it, and yet I don’t do it.
All the lights are off at Reeve’s house except for in his room. I pull out my phone and text him, my hands shaking.
Are you awake?
He writes back instantly. Yeah.
I’m outside.
Reeve’s face appears in the window, and then it’s gone. I get out of the car and wait for him, shivering. I don’t have to wait long. He’s out the front door and running toward me in sweats, no coat.
“What’s wrong?” he pants. “Did something happen?”
I shake my head.
His brow furrows. “Then why—why are you here?”
“I don’t know.” I lift my shoulders and drop them. “I guess . . . I just wanted to see you.” Reeve is staring at me with a bewildered look on his face, and I feel my cheeks get hot. I turn away from him and back toward my car. “I shouldn’t have come.”
Reeve grabs my arm. “Wait,” he says, and I spin back around, and before I can tell myself not to, I pull his face toward mine and I’m kissing him. He hesitates for a split second, and then he’s kissing me back, and I feel a jolt inside me. I lean back against the car, and I pull him with me. I can see the puffs our breaths make in the cold night air.
“I miss you,” I whisper between kisses. Then I look up at him, and my pulse quickens as I wait for him to answer.
A cocky smile spreads across his face. “Course you do. You can’t get enough of me.”
I stiffen. I come over here in the middle of the night against my better judgment, and he’s joking around like it’s nothing? Is everything a joke to him? I stand up straight and try to push him away, but he doesn’t let me. His voice gets serious as he says, “I miss you, too. You know I do. I . . . I just don’t know how to act. Everything’s so fucked up.”
I sigh. “I wish . . .” I stop, and Reeve pushes my hair out of my eyes.
“Your hair’s wet.”
“I just had a bath,” I say, and he nods.
“What were you going to say?” he asks me. “What do you wish?”
“I wish it didn’t have to be like this. It’s so . . . complicated.” More than Reeve even knows. “We haven’t talked about Rennie once.”
He looks down at the ground. “I don’t want to talk about Rennie right now.”
I’m about to say, If not now, then when? It’s already been two weeks since she died, and I think maybe we’d both feel better if we talked about her. But Reeve leans in close to me and nuzzles his face against mine. “Why is your skin so soft?” His breath tickles my cheek.
I laugh, for what feels like the first time in forever. “I don’t know, because I’m a girl? All girls are soft.”
He kisses my cheek. “No, you’re different. You have the softest skin of any girl I’ve ever known. And you always smell really good.” He’s kissing his way down my neck. “What is that smell?”
“Bluebells.” I’m shivering, and it’s not because of the cold. His hands are at my hips, under my coat. I have to lean against the car to keep my balance. “Bluebells and . . . burnt sugar.” It’s so hard to think.
“Yeah, that’s it. Sugar. My grandma used to have a thing of brown-sugar bath salts in her bathroom. . . . One time I dumped the whole bottle into the toilet because I wanted to see if it would fizz.” Reeve kisses me, his mouth open against mine, and I have that feeling I get when I step into the bath, warm all over. I let out a sigh. Softly he asks me, “Do you want to come inside for a minute?”
I whisper back, “What, are you going to sneak me up to your room?”
He grins. “Yeah. Why not?”
I put my hands on his shoulders and tilt my head up at him. “Sorry to break it to you, but I’m not your girl Melanie Renfro. I don’t do that.” For the first time in my life, I wish I was that kind of girl.
“I know you’re not like Mel,” he says, and I feel a slight twinge of jealousy. It sounds so affectionate. So intimate. Mel. Then he says, “You’re not like any other girl I’ve ever met.”
I can feel myself flush. Shyly I say, “I don’t want your parents to see me.”
Reeve kisses me again, with the confidence of a boy who knows exactly what he’s doing. His hands move under my sweatshirt, and I don’t even care that they’re cold. I just want him to keep on touching me. When he’s touching me, everything else fades mercifully away, and I’m not thinking about what I did to Rennie, what I did to Mary. It feels good to forget, even if it’s just for a moment.
When I shiver, he stops abruptly and says, “You should go. It’s cold out here and your hair’s wet.”
“Okay.” I start to stand up straight.
“Wait . . . five more minutes.”
“Five more minutes,” I agree, pulling him toward me again.
* * *
The next morning everybody’s eating doughnuts by the vending machines, and I sneeze three times in a row. Reeve’s eyes meet mine and he smiles a secret smile, but I don’t smile back.
I force myself to turn away, like I didn’t see. Because I shouldn’t have gone to Reeve’s house; I shouldn’t have kissed him. I won’t make that mistake again.
Chapter Twelve
MARY
I’M ASLEEP MORE THAN I’M awake now, if you can even call it sleeping. It’s not restful, and I don’t have dreams. It’s just darkness.
When I’m awake and alert, I put everything I have into reading Aunt Bette’s books, hoping they’ll tell me something. Tonight I got about halfway through a book about how ghosts interact with the living world.
I don’t have enough energy to finish it. But I need to understand how I’ve been tricking myself. I use what little energy I can muster, and then I close my eyes and focus.
When I open my eyes, it’s morning. I’m no longer at home. I’m standing in front of Jar Island High School, in the fountain. It must still be winter, because the water is shut off.
A bell rings in the distance. I walk to one of the heavy steel doors. Once the school day starts, the janitors lock them so outsiders can’t get in. It’s a security measure. Through the window I watch a few last stragglers sprint down the hallway to their classrooms.
If I were a real girl, a living girl, I’d have to go to the main office and sign in at the front desk. But I’m not. I pass through the door like it’s nothing. Like it’s air. And I’m on the other side.
I’ve probably been doing that all along. Only I didn’t let myself notice. I think back on the days I spent here this school year, going to classes I thought I was enrolled in, doing homework I thought was assigned to me. Even dreaming of where I’d apply for college next year.
Except I’m not a student here. I never was.
The clock says 10:35. If this were a normal day, I’d be in Spanish class with Señor Tremont, so that’s where I go.
Señor Tremont’s door is wedged open, so I walk right in. He’s sitting on top of his desk. The fluorescent classroom lights are off, and he has a video going on the TV. It’s a Spanish soap opera called El Corazón Late Siempre. It means “The Heart Always Beats.” Señor Tremont normally has us watch an episode on Fridays.
Okay. It’s Friday. And it’s winter. But January? February?
I have no idea.
I glance out at the room, at the desk where I used to sit. It’s an empty desk in the back, one that was probably never assigned to anyone. I just sat there. I pretended it was mine. Just like I pretended I was alive.
That’s why whenever I raised my hand, Señor Tremont never once called on me.
That’s why I never got a report card sent home, or a test handed back, or my name up on the bulletin board.
No one could see me.
I feel so completely stupid.
A fiery anger begins to simmer inside me. I used to hate feeling angry. I used to fear it. Except now . . . it feels good. It feels like something.
I take a couple of steps so I’m standing in front of the television, blocking everyone’s view. But not everyone is watching the show. A few girls are whispering behind a notebook. Alex Lind has his forehead down on the desk, but I know he’s not asleep, because his left leg is bouncing up and down. Another kid is drawing black circles over and over again on the sole of his sneaker.
I open my mouth and scream. Scream as loud as I can.
And no one hears me.
Shaking, I press down on the channel buttons. I can actually feel them underneath my fingertips.
The channels start changing, and everyone in class snaps to attention.
“Ay, diosmío,” Señor Tremont says. He stands up and comes over to the television with the remote. I move my hand to the power button and click the television off and on. “This . . . I don’t understand.”
I’m laughing now; I can’t help it. Señor Tremont looks so confused, and the rest of the kids do too.
And then, with every last bit of strength I’ve got left, I push my body into the television cart and knock the entire thing over. The screen bursts into a million pieces on the floor. And the crazy thing is that doing it doesn’t make me feel tired. It’s the opposite. It has filled me back up with energy.
Just then the bell rings. I walk out into the hallway like everyone else.
“Mary?”
Her voice comes from far behind me, from the other end of the hallway.
Kat.
“Yo! Mary!”
I take off, keeping my back to her, and then step through the door of the janitor’s closet and wait to hear if she calls my name again.
She doesn’t.
Lillia and Kat have always been able to see me. They believed I was real, that I was seventeen. They were able to see the things I’d imagined too. But why?
A minute or two later I sneak back out of the classroom. I see Lillia and Kat talking at the end of the hallway. Lillia’s holding a folder, maroon and embossed with gold foil letters. Boston College. I wonder if she’s been accepted. Lillia will be gone in a few months. Kat, too. Then I won’t have to hide from them. That’s a relief. But it also breaks my heart.
When they leave, there won’t be anyone left who can see me.
Then I’ll truly be gone. Gone for good.
Chapter Thirteen
LILLIA
AFTER SCHOOL ASH AND I ride in her car over to her house to work on our English project. It’s sort of the worst, being partnered with Ash, because she’s lazy, but I know she’d be hurt if I partnered up with someone else. We’re in her room, supposedly doing research, but whenever I glance over at her computer screen, she’s looking at gossip blogs.
I’m cutting and pasting an article to read later, when my phone buzzes. It’s Reeve. Can I see you tonight?
Oh no. No, no, no. This is exactly what I was afraid of, and it’s my fault. I was weak.
I have to be strong now.
I can’t. I’m studying over at Ashlin’s.
:(
A few minutes later Ashlin’s phone buzzes from across the room. She picks it up and squeals. “Derek and the guys want to come over and hang out,” she says. “Our sauna’s not working, but we could take a hot tub break!”
I bite my lip. Reeve. I could kill him.
“Ash, we can’t. This is due on Monday. If the guys come over, you know it’s not going to be a short break. It’s going to be all night.” And then I pick up my phone and text Reeve.
Not cool.
Ash nods. “You’re right, I know you’re right. I’m just having a hard time concentrating.” Plaintively she says, “Are things ever going to feel normal again?”
“I don’t know.” And then, because that sounds so depressing, I add, “I hope.”
Ash picks up her phone to text Derek, and I feel bad. I haven’t been a good friend to her lately. So I close my laptop and say, “Ash, it’s fine. The guys can stop by. We’re almost done anyway.”
Ash’s face lights up. “Yay!” She jumps up and starts rifling through her bikini drawer. She gasps suddenly and lifts one up for me to look at—it’s Rennie’s. “Ren left this the last time she was over here.”
I remember when she bought it, last summer at the bikini store near Java Jones. It’s tiny and black, and she loved it because it made her boobs look bigger. “I—I’ll just wear one of yours.”
“But mine won’t fit you,” Ash says, dropping the bikini back into her drawer.
“Then I’ll just dip my feet into the tub.” I’m not wearing Rennie’s bikini. It’s too eerie.
“Wait!” Ash digs into her drawer again. She holds up a skimpy navy-and-green tie-dyed one with the tags still on. “The top was way too small for me, but I never got around to returning it. It’ll fit you perfectly.”
Relieved, I quickly undress and put on her bikini. Ash comes around and ties the tie around my back tighter. “It looks great on you,” she says. “You can keep it.”
