If he'd touched me first, I might have gotten the nerve. But Nick somehow managed to stand in that space—our feet angled together, our elbows shifting about for someplace safe to be—without any part of his body touching any part of mine. He probably didn't even notice he was doing it, but I was never more aware than when Nick Harbourne was near. Like he had an invisible shield around him, he moved further into the room without so much as a brush or a bump.
So much for Mom's books. My inhibitions were as rock solid as ever. And Nick was just as oblivious.
He looked at the mess in the closet. "Were you looking for Haylee's journal?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said. Too quickly. "How did you know?"
Nick shrugged. "Aunt Hazel asked me if I knew where it was. I told her to ask you."
So that inquisition was his fault. He gave me a sideways look, and for a second, I was sure that he knew. Of course she'd told me where the journal was. I was her best friend. But the words tumbled out of my mouth. "I didn't find it. I don't know what she did with it. She didn't want me reading it either, you know?" I bit the inside of my mouth to keep even more excuses from popping out of it. I was the worst liar in the history of the world.
"Can I help you look?" he asked.
I wilted like a wet noodle. Sometimes the obliviousness worked in my favor. "Sure."
Nick surveyed the room. "Where have you looked?"
My eyes slid straight to the bottom of the closet, so I took a stab at honesty. "I was working on the closet. It's kind of a mess."
He raised an eyebrow at the piles of clothes. "No kidding," Nick said. "Have you checked under the mattress?"
I shut my eyes to keep them from rolling. Haylee would never hide her journal somewhere so unoriginal. "You check," I said.
Nick knelt down, loosening his tie further and unbuttoning his top button to expose his collar bone.
Oh, my. I dug into the clothes at the bottom of the closet, tossing them into a pile on her floor. I hadn't come to Haylee's funeral to hit on her cousin, even if that was exactly the sort of tragic romance that Haylee herself would have loved.
What I needed was a normal conversation. "Did your mom make you buy that tie for the funeral?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said. "I'm not really used to it."
"I like your T-shirts better."
Yes, Kira, I thought. Let's talk about his wardrobe. That's not obsessive. I grabbed Haylee's Winter Fling dress from the drawer and hung it on a hanger, where it glittered and shone. Maybe Nick would just think I'd developed a sudden obsession with clothes.
"You want to know a secret?" Nick asked. I spun around to find him unbuttoning his shirt.
I'm pretty sure my eyes nearly fell out of my head. And in a moment of pure eloquence, this one thought ran through my mind: Whoa.
But then I saw the rib-neck of a black T-shirt underneath the buttons. He pulled the white shirt aside, revealing a red and yellow Superman symbol.
We stared at each other for a second. If Nick knew what I was thinking, he played it off without a word.
"Isn't Superman supposed to wear blue?" I asked.
"It's a Death of Superman shirt," Nick said. Looking closer, I could see that bits of the red outline were bleeding.
"I'd have thought that would show through the white shirt."
"I wore the shirt to the store. Tried on about twenty of them before I found one thick enough to cover it."
"That's ridiculous," I said.
"I know," Nick said. "I did it for Haylee."
What would Haylee have said about that? She'd have called him a dork. She always called Nick a dork. I was pretty sure a lot of the time he hammed it up, just for her.
"That's perfect," I said. "Who else knows?"
"Just you." He reached for his buttons.
"Don't," I said. My hand caught his before I thought about what I was doing. "Leave it." His fingers hooked through mine before I let them drop.
All the blood drained from my face. I wasn't the only one in this room who'd lost someone. If I kissed Nick right now, would he let me?
Nick sat down on the bed, no longer searching for the journal. "I wasn't really looking for a ghost up here," he said. "I mostly came up here for somewhere to be alone."
"Oh," I said. I inched toward the door. That's why he'd been so awkward about coming in. He was the one who'd hoped to find the room empty.
"No," he said. "You don't count."
I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. Of course I didn't count. I was like a cousin. Like his sister. Like nobody. "Okay, then."
He winced. "That's not what I meant."
I wanted to ask him what he did mean, but instead I just sank down beside him on the bed. Neither of us wanted to be here. We were together in that.
"Downstairs was miserable," I said.
"That," Nick said, "is the truest thing you've ever said." He leaned back on his arms, his long legs stretching to the floor. His elbows dug deep holes in the mattress, tilting me toward him. If I'd let it, gravity would have pulled me against him.
I thought about letting go, about curling up into him, and telling him about the journal. It wouldn't be the first time Nick would be my partner in crime. We'd been a team for years, passing the Haylee baton back and forth in the relay of keeping her happy.
We'd dropped it, now. If we weren't protecting her together, what were we to each other? Nothing. No wonder we didn't know how to put two sentences together anymore.
Nick played with the end of his tie, twisting it around and around. "It clashes," I said, pointing to the red of his shirt, and the maroon of his tie. "You should have found one to match."
Nick held the two colors together. "Oh," he said. "I didn't even think about it."
"Take me with you next time," I said.
Nick ducked his head, his eyes close to mine. "No," he said quietly. "Let's never do this again."
His hair hung from his forehead, almost brushing my own hair.
"Deal," I said. And his eyes flicked from one of mine to the other. Nick looked at me—really looked at me—as if he were seeing something he never had before.
And then the traitorous dust from the top of the closet finally worked its way up my nose, and I sneezed. I jerked away in time, covering my face with both hands. But when I turned back, Nick had straightened up and was re-buttoning the top of his shirt and tightening his tie.
The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I could almost hear Haylee's voice in my ear. Moving in on my cousin, when I'm still fresh in my grave. Are things better for you, now that I'm not around?
I chewed my lip. They weren't. I wouldn't pretend for a moment that they were.
"You want to go for a ride?" Nick asked. "Get out of here for a while?"
I drew a deep breath. I wanted to. Of course I wanted to. I'd been going out of my way to sit by him and walk by him and smile at him for years. Maybe he was thinking the same thing I was—that this was his big chance to . . . what? Make a move? Take advantage?
Would I mind?
Yes, I would.
Nothing good was going to come out of Haylee's death. I wouldn't let it.
"I better not," I said. "My mom's downstairs." That was only half of an excuse. I tried to think of a follow up, but my mind went blank.
"I'd steal the plates," Nick said, "but I'm not sure anyone would notice, today."
I smiled. "Raincheck," I said. "Okay?"
Nick smiled back, and if I'd been feeling more hopeful, I might have said it was a mirror of mine. "Okay," he said.
Nick held out his hand. "Come downstairs with me? I don't think I can face it alone."
I reached up and took his hand, and he pulled me up off the bed, and then dropped it again, like the gesture meant nothing. Like I was his cousin, same as Haylee. Only a more distant one. Many times removed.
So far removed as to be easily forgotten.
He turned toward the door, and I allowed myself one glance back up at the crawlspace.
I'd have to come back. And next time, I'd bring a purse.
I stumbled out of the room behind Nick. But as I did, I could swear I felt the swish of cold air behind my ear, like Haylee had swept out of her room with us.
I glanced over my shoulder, half convinced I'd see Haylee's ghost, but all I saw behind me was the empty hall. Haylee wasn't free. She was locked in a box, smothered under rocks and the dirt.
But I could feel her, still behind me no matter which way I turned. Good thing you hid that journal, she said. You had to cover your tracks.
Didn't you?
Haylee had always known which words would cut deepest, though that power was stronger in memory than it had been in real life. She was so much meaner in my head.
And now the Haylee in my head was the only one I had left.
Ten Days Before
I sat on Haylee's floor. "Three weeks until Christmas break," I said.
Haylee lay on her bed with her copy of Tess of the D'Urbervilles splayed open across her face. Her hair cascaded out from underneath it in waves of ringlet curls, which had defied gravity by maintaining their bounce through the entire school day. Mine would have been limp inside of an hour.
"Don't remind me," Haylee said. "Only eight days until that stupid dance. I don't even have a dress yet. Why did I agree to go again?"
I threw a ruffled throw pillow at her head. "Calm down. You're crazy about him."
Haylee batted the pillow away without disturbing her hair. "I suppose if Nick had asked you, you'd be totally relaxed."
She was right. I'd be a wreck. "Who did Nick ask?"
Haylee peeked out from under the book. "Why?" she asked. "Jealous?"
"No," I said. "But yes."
Haylee's satisfied smile peeked out from under the book's spine. "Relax. He didn't ask anybody."
I rolled my eyes. "I wouldn't say that's good news."
"Please," Haylee said. "He'll wake up to your gorgeousness eventually. The guy isn't blind."
It had been enough years. Maybe he was.
"This wasn't my point," I said. "My mom will be home the whole break. It'll be just me and her and our tiny house."
The book across Haylee's face teetered as she spoke. "You're not going anywhere?"
"I'll be going insane."
Haylee lifted the corner of the book and glanced at me. "It won't be that bad."
I threw my arms out to the sides, clocking one of my hands on Haylee's dresser. "Me and Mom, stuck in the house together for the whole break. I'll be smothered by the silence." How two people could be related to each other and have so little to say was beyond me. I could always think of lots of things to say to Haylee. "I'm going to come over here every day. Or better yet, you should let me sleep over. Every night."
"Sorry," Haylee said, waving her book at me. "But I'm not going to survive until Christmas break. This paper is going to kill me."
"Please," I said. "At least you read it."
Haylee rolled her eyes at me. "One of us had to."
I hadn't finished a book for English class in over two years. "What's the point? You spoil them all."
"It is not my fault. You are the only person in the history of the world who made it to fourteen years old without knowing that Romeo and Juliet die."
"Seriously," I said. "What kind of a love story is that?"
"It's a tragedy," Haylee said. "That's the best kind." Haylee let her copy of Tess fall to the floor, on top of her flannel pajama pants covered in rubber duckies.
I picked it up and leafed through it. It wasn't like I was trying to cheat off of Haylee. I'd read the first chapter, and been bored to tears. But Haylee devoured every book we were assigned in two days.
Except the Grapes of Wrath. That one took her three.
"I thought this was a tragedy, too," I said, scanning the back cover. "It says Tess gets jilted. That's totally your thing."
"It is!" Haylee said. "That's the problem. I can't write about Tess. I am Tess."
I read the blurb further. "Were you raped?" I asked. "And are you pregnant?"
Haylee balled up her pillow in her hands. "I'm doomed," Haylee said quietly. "Just like Tess."
"Right. So if you're so similar, can't you just do whatever she did to get out of it?"
"She kills the guy, and even that doesn't help her escape from what he did to her."
I waved the book at her. "She's a murderer? That's how it ends?"
"Don't get pissy. You weren't going to read it."
I should have known. Books we read for English class never ended well. "Don't follow that example."
Haylee snatched the book from my hands. "You just don't understand," she said. "She kills Alec because it's her only means of destroying the part of herself that she hates."
"Yes," I said. I let the sarcasm weigh in my voice. "You clearly had a lot in common."
Haylee bit her lip, staring at the book.
Somewhere, we'd crossed over the line from joking to serious, but I wasn't sure where it had been. "Sorry," I said.
"No, you're right," she said, tearing the corner of the cover with her nail. "Obviously Tess is nothing like me."
"And that's a good thing," I said. "Right?"
"Sure," Haylee said.
But I could tell that she didn't believe it.
Chapter Three
Monday morning I cruised by Bradley Johansen's locker before class, but he wasn't there. We had English together—with Haylee as well—but that wasn't until the end of the day.
I paced the hallway back and forth until the first bell, but Bradley didn't appear. I waited so long that I had to run to geometry, and slid into my seat just as the second bell rung. Usually Mr. Craig would have given me the evil eye for that, but today he smiled like he was glad to see me.
We had a big test scheduled for Wednesday, the last day before Christmas break. But I could tell from all the whispering and fidgeting that I wasn't the only one who couldn't bring myself to care. My eyes kept drifting toward the empty desk next to me. When Mr. Craig was scanning the room for the roll, I saw his eyes pause on the desk, too, but he didn't mark Haylee absent.
"Counselors are still available for anyone who needs to talk," Mr. Craig said. "They'll be here until the end of the week." He'd said the same thing last week, and neither time did he mention what we might need to talk about.
Once Mr. Craig finished his public service announcement, he moved straight to math. "We're going to pair up for the review problems," he said. "Talk through the problems together, and then check with the answers in the back of the book. If you got a different answer, try to figure it out together first before you ask for help."
My classmates all started turning around in their seats, finding partners. Mr. Craig divided us up a lot, so everyone pretty much had a steady partner. I forced myself not to look at the space where Haylee should be. Every other empty desk in the room was taken, or turned around, or shoved out of the way.
But no one moved Haylee's. It just sat there, facing forward. I wondered if her ghost sat in its seat. If I touched it, would it be cold?
"Kira," Mr. Craig said. "Why don't you work with Spencer?" He said it like it was a casual thing, but he hadn't assigned a partner to anyone else.
I stared down at my hands. Spencer, of all people. If I didn't make eye contact, would he find someone else? Maybe there was an odd number of people in the class. Maybe Mr. Craig would let me work by myself.
But no. Spencer trundled across the room and threw his backpack down on Haylee's desk. It wasn't that Spencer was stupid—he could actually be really smart if he stopped practicing his stand-up routine long enough to pay attention. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't that funny.
It could have been worse. I could have been paired up with Stephanie. She was sure to spend the entire period flirting
with anything male in a three-desk radius.
Spencer kicked back in Haylee's seat, with his feet propped up on the edge of my chair. "All right," he said, flipping open his own book. "Let the learning begin."
I looked at Spencer's book. He'd opened to a chapter we'd covered in October. "Do you even know where we are?"
"Sure," he said, rifling through some pages. "Um, proofs?"
"There are proofs in every chapter."
"So I'm not wrong."
"Chapter nine," I said, opening to the chapter review. My grip tightened on my pencil. I was used to helping Haylee, but Spencer was different. I'd rather fail the test than do his homework for him. "Let's just do the problems and compare answers, okay?"
"Sure thing, boss." Spencer bent over, rummaging through his backpack.
I was halfway through the first problem when he tapped me on the arm. "Uh, Kira? Do you have a piece of paper I could borrow?"
I tore an extra sheet out of my notebook and thrust it at him. Fringes from the spiral binding fluttered to the floor.
"Thanks," he said, taking it from me. "Do you have a pencil?"
I pulled one out of my backpack, holding it out to him without looking at him. "Anything else?"
"Nah, thanks."
I nodded, and went back to my problem. It took Spencer about three seconds to start talking again.
"So, do you know how she did it?"
The problems swam before my eyes. I was not having that conversation in the middle of math. "No."
"Aw, come on. You were her best friend. You must know something."
I couldn't tell if he was curious, or just trying to annoy me. Gripping my pencil, I tried to keep my tone even. "Nope. Nobody tells me anything."
Spencer paused, and I thought for a futile second that he might just drop it.
"Don't you think it's strange that nobody knows?"
I ground my pencil in a tight circle around the binder hole on my paper. "No," I said. "They're afraid if they tell us how she did it, we'll all try it." My mom said suicide was contagious, as if whatever was wrong with Haylee could pass from person to person like the chicken pox.
Everything's Fine Page 3
