Ever (The Ever Trilogy)

by Jessa Russo

  I woke up a few hours later, a sweaty mess of sheets and matted hair welcoming me back to the world of the living. The black satin slip was plastered to my body, and the underwire on the right side of my bra had busted through the lace and was digging into the skin of my chest.

  Frankie was standing in front of me, and I could vaguely remember searching for him in my dream. But, like all the others, that was the extent of the memory.

  “I’m here, Doll. Go back to sleep now. It was just another dream.”

  But I didn’t want to go back to sleep. I didn’t want to fall back into the realm of nightmares I couldn’t remember. Nightmares in which my panic and dread would follow me into wakefulness along with images of blood, but nothing else. Just that cold, relentless fear gripping me, and telling me that Frankie was in danger.

  Nightmares about Toby’s bloody hands, most likely.

  “I punched Toby.”

  Frankie’s eyebrows flew up, and a small smile crept over his face. I watched him trying to hide it, trying to look serious without much luck, and I busted out laughing. He joined me, and after we’d had a good laughing fit, he sat on the bed and tried again to look serious.

  “Is your hand okay?”

  “Yeah. Thanks. It hurts really bad, but … .”

  “Are you okay?”

  I looked at him. His eyes were dark abysses like Toby’s, but for totally different reasons. They used to be dark brown, with golden flakes of caramel in a sea of chocolate. I’d stared into them so many times, wishing for him to see me. Now, they were just a hollow, translucent abyss. Death stripped him of the vibrancy in his eyes, his skin, his life. Everything was just shades of gray now where Frankie was concerned.

  Yet it was suddenly obvious to me that there were no shades of gray between us. There was just love. I felt it hanging in the air, saw it in his concern for me. I knew I wasn’t imagining it. The way he looked at me now … he finally sees me. Finally.

  But it was too late.

  “Yeah, I’m okay, Frankie. We broke up, but … I don’t know. Something tells me I’ll be okay. And it felt really good to punch him.”

  “You’ve definitely got spunk, Dollface.”

  “Yeah, well, you just better watch yourself around me. I’m not above punching a ghost. I’d just have to work out the logistics of it.”

  “Right, right. Noted.”

  We laughed again, and something occurred to me. Something I was confused about. Maybe Frankie had some answers.

  “Frankie? Did you see my dad when he died?”

  He bowed his head.

  “No, Doll.”

  “Oh.”

  “I heard what Toby told you—that it was a crisis apparition. I don’t know much about that, and I don’t know why I’m still here and your dad isn’t. I wish I had answers for you. But I don’t.”

  We talked about my dad then, long into the night. It felt good to talk to someone who knew him so well. Someone who missed him as much as I did. Well, almost as much as I did.

  Spending time with Frankie was the perfect remedy for what I’d just been through.

  My heart would heal in time.

  Four weeks had slowly crept by since I’d seen or heard from Toby.

  Four miserable weeks.

  I kept waiting for him to knock on my door and apologize or say something to fix what happened, but … nothing. He hadn’t even fought for me. Hadn’t tried to make it right. My boyfriend dumped me on the day of my dad’s funeral. I was angry and hurt and so mad at myself for allowing him into my life in the first place. I felt like a bit of a loser at times, but mostly I was just pissed off.

  And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss him terribly.

  He was out of town again. Or so I assumed. I hadn’t seen his car in at least a week. I knew I shouldn’t monitor him, now that we clearly weren’t together, but I couldn’t help myself. It would be so much better if he didn’t live right next door to me. Of all the luck.

  My nightmares ceased, leaving me a bit confused about their existence in the first place, as well as leaving my room free of ghostly visitors.

  Frankie kept his distance from me, knowing I was dealing with the death of my father and the death of my relationship. I knew he must have been pleased Toby was out of the picture, which angered me greatly, the longer I stewed about it. My misdirected anger was ridiculous, but being angry at Frankie was easier than being in love with him, so whatever. Unfortunately, it didn’t get rid of those feelings completely, and my love for him remained a background noise. I pushed the noise aside, allowing myself to be mad instead. I knew it was wrong and slightly childish to blame Frankie for the failure of my relationship with Toby, but what could I say? Sometimes people acted irrationally in love.

  My mom was a total mess, which helped me avoid any motherly inquiries regarding Toby’s sudden departure from my life and my decision to delay college—though any lectures on that subject would have been pointless because I’d made up my mind—but my worry for her was a lot to handle. So was the sudden onset of responsibilities. My mom didn’t even get out of bed most of the time. It was like, as soon as she was no longer worried that I’d kill myself, she allowed herself to feel the grief she’d been ignoring.

  And then, she allowed that grief to swallow her whole.

  With only one parent in the house, and that one parent on hiatus for an undisclosed amount of time, I had to step up and make sure things got done around here. I didn’t have to worry about bills, luckily, as my dad’s life insurance took care of those for a long while, and Sharon came over weekly to monitor our financial status and keep it all up to date.

  I had to do all the other stuff. Since my mom could no longer cope with day-to-day life, I was stuck doing the housework, yard work, and errands. Oh well, they were all good distractions.

  I finished up my morning chores and threw on a black maxi dress and flip flops. I was finished with all my school stuff and was officially out of high school. Whoopity doo, a high school graduate. Big deal. Jessie still had a week left, so I had spent my time at the library when I wasn’t busy at the shelter, doing household chores, or taking care of Mom.

  Sometimes I checked her breathing, just to make sure there still was breathing.

  I bent down and kissed my mom on the head, leaving a glass of water and some pretzels—she still didn’t have an appetite—on her nightstand. I didn’t even bother opening the blinds. I knew she wanted it dark, and the daylight only reminded her that it was another morning without my dad. Gollum had taken on the important role of caretaker, and he curled up at the foot of her bed. I patted him on the head, silently thanking him for keeping watch over her. I hoped his presence was at least somewhat soothing.

  I glanced over at the rocking chair in the corner. It had been in my dad’s office prior to his death, but since my mom’s decline, I’d moved it into her room … in case … in case he came back. He’d have a place to watch over her.

  He’s not coming back.

  I grabbed my purse and headed for the library, stopping momentarily to drive through Starbucks for an iced latte along the way. My appetite still hadn’t returned one-hundred percent either, but I filled myself up with coffee most of the time. Too bad if it stunted my growth. I didn’t really believe that anyway.

  Silence greeted me at the library, and I was thankful that most people were still in school. I just wanted to sit and read without interruption. I walked over to the young adult fiction section to grab a thick hardcover by one of my favorite authors. I found myself a beanbag chair in the children’s section and dragged it over to a dark corner of the room, away from windows and hopefully out of the path of foot traffic.

  I was a little over halfway through the book when a soft voice startled me out of my imaginary world.

  “Excuse me?”

  I jumped, causing the lid of my latte to pop off, and melted ice and latte remnants spilled onto my dress.

  “Darn it!”

  “Oh, excuse me.
I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you, but you seem to have dropped this book.”

  I looked up to see a girl—no, a woman—standing over me. Her eyes were big and round and … yellow. Yellow eyes. They were so hazel they were almost yellow, and I’d never seen a shade like that in anyone but my mom. I’d been less lucky and gotten my dad’s brown eyes. Her long black hair was twisted into a loose knot on top of her head, and she wore long ivory feather earrings that skimmed her shoulders. She had on a pale blue peasant-style shirt that hung off her shoulders and tight fitting jeans that she’d tucked into knee-high, brown riding-style boots. They had buttons running up the length of them, reminding me of something out of the Victorian era. She looked like she just stepped out of a fashion magazine or a clothing catalogue, except that she had on no makeup that I could tell.

  Of course, that only added to the natural beauty of her face. I felt small next to her. And slightly chubby, if I was being honest.

  She reached down, handing me a large green book with tattered edges and writing I couldn’t quite read. As she leaned toward me, I smelled the slightest hint of Irish Spring soap. Toby. My stomach turned over as the familiar scent triggered memories and pain. I found myself staring at this stranger in front of me, without actually seeing her, as my mind plummeted back into memories I’d tried to forget.

  As I daydreamed of Toby, I noticed the girl’s eyes tighten a little—just enough to snap me back to the present. Embarrassment quickly caused my cheeks to flush as I realized that in my reminiscing, I hadn’t been staring off into space, but staring directly at the girl in front of me. She must think I’m crazy. Sorry, I’m just hanging out, daydreaming about the beautiful guy who dumped me. You smell just like him. Yep, pretty crazy. And pathetic too.

  I shook myself, and looked down at the cover of the book she’d handed me, trying to make out what it said. It was too smudged with age, and I couldn’t read the writing.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s not mine. Someone else must have dropped it.” I looked back up at her and smiled courteously.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. My mistake. I’ll just go ahead and return it to the librarian. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

  She forced a smile, curling up the corners of her mouth with what almost felt like disdain. Then I realized I was either completely imagining it or I probably deserved disdain for staring at her like a total creep.

  As she turned to walk away, a piece of paper slipped out from the book and drifted down to land at my feet. It was plain white paper, folded in half one time. Probably someone’s notes or references to pages in the book.

  “Wait! Excuse me? Something fell out of that book!”

  I grabbed the sheet of paper and stood up to chase after her, but she was already gone. Hmm, that was quick.

  “Um, okay,” I whispered.

  I picked up my purse and the book I had been reading before the interruption, then headed to the front of the library to see if I could find her there, but again, she was nowhere in sight. While glancing around the room searching for her, my eyes grazed the clock. Shoot! I was momentarily stunned at how much time had gone by since I’d arrived at the library. It was well past dinnertime, and I had wasted the day away, my nose in a book.

  Without thinking, I shoved the folded piece of paper into my purse, checked out my book at the computer, then ran to the car. I had plans with Jessie in an hour, and I was going to be late. As usual.

  Jessie planned to drag me out to an end-of-the-year summer kick-off party, and I wasn’t exactly thrilled. I liked parties and socializing, but I hated going places where I didn’t know anyone. Since this was a party at one of the senior’s houses from her school, chances were that I would know only a small handful of people—especially since I’d never gone to the same school as Jessie, even before homeschooling.

  I kept hoping Toby would show up and surprise me, begging me to come back to him and saving me from the horror of being the third wheel with Jessie and Greg, but no such luck.

  Clearly, I’d read too many love stories. I shouldn’t have wanted him back at all.

  I had only a few minutes to change and reapply my makeup. Jessie was promptly through the door at seven, Greg following closely behind her. She was all glitter and sequins, in a bright-pink tube-top and shiny, black cuffed shorts. Black? She had on strappy black wedges, and her cropped blonde hair was pulled back on one side with a pink rhinestone clip in the shape of a bow.

  I looked down at my black jeans and faded fitted tee knowing Jessie was going to make me change before she even said a word. I knew there was no way she’d allow any of it—especially my Havaiannas. I silently cursed my spilled latte, wishing I could have just kept on my maxi dress.

  I held up my hands in surrender when she made a face. “I know, I know. I’ll go change.”

  “I’ll be right back, Greg!” She said the words loudly, letting Frankie know someone else was in the house so he didn’t make an appearance in the living room, scaring the bejeezus out of Greg. He gave her a funny look, probably wondering why she was yelling at him, and she followed me down the hall.

  “Black?” I said, motioning to her shorts.

  Jessie smiled widely before responding. “Greg thinks black is so sexy.”

  Of course, it would be because of a guy. I’d been trying to get her to accept black as a valid color option for years.

  “Well, welcome to the Dark Side.”

  “Oh my gosh, Ever, speaking of sexy, did you see how hot Greg looks tonight? I could just die.”

  I agreed with her, naturally, and watched as she rummaged through my closet. Greg was hot, no question. But he wasn’t Frankie.

  Or Toby.

  And now I’m thinking about Toby again. Damn.

  Jessie finally decided I’d wear a dark red racer-back tank and a black denim skirt, my black lace bra straps showing just enough to be—as she called it—sexy, but not trashy. I disagreed completely, but there’s just no arguing with her about fashion. To save my dignity, I grabbed a black hooded sweatshirt from the hamper, making Jessie frown. I raised my eyebrows at her in a silent challenge and won—she didn’t push me to ditch the hoodie. She made sure I didn’t zip it up, mumbling something about my cleavage. She ran out to her car and grabbed her black bow ballet flats for me. She tsk-tsked me as I looked longingly at the black Havaiannas flip flops by the closet door.

  “Uh-uh.”

  “Fine.” I didn’t feel like arguing with her.

  Before we left the house, Jessie grabbed my oversized gray purse and exchanged it for a tiny, black glitter wristlet she’d given me this past Christmas. She didn’t mention the price tag that still hung from the clasp. She dumped the contents of my purse onto the bathroom counter and grabbed my lip-gloss, powder compact, driver’s license, and keys, throwing them into the clutch as she pushed me out the door.

  The party was at a huge house in an upscale neighborhood in Anaheim Hills. How this kid went to Jessie’s high school all the way in east Orange, I had no idea, but I knew the school was known for their sports teams, and people often lied and used other addresses to get their kids in.

  When we pulled into the neighborhood, we realized there were no places to park long before we even found the house. We ended up having to walk at least half a mile. Jessie’s shoes were already bugging me, and I assumed she’d gone half a size smaller than she should have. Again. She had a weird thing about wearing size seven and a half even when she knew she was easily a size eight. Seeing as how I was definitely a size eight, my toes felt the pain of Jessie’s strange shoe quirk.

  People were everywhere. Discarded red party cups lined the street. Music blared from the back of the house, an almost deafening sound, and not because of the volume. A live band was playing, but they didn’t sound familiar and definitely didn’t sound good.

  Greg and Jessie walked ahead of me, hand in hand, and I knew this was a really big deal for Jessie. To have a serious boyfriend, who didn’t go to her school and who was quite
a bit older than the boys she’d dated before, was something I knew made her extremely happy. I had always wondered about her perpetual dating—now I had my answer. It wasn’t what she’d really wanted at all. This Jessie, the Jessie in a serious relationship—this was the happiest Jessie I’d ever seen. She practically vibrated with excitement.

  And honestly, Greg was a pretty cool guy. With Toby out of the picture, I’d been around Greg a lot more frequently and saw a side of him that was the opposite of that tense night at T.G.I.Friday’s. He was relaxed and open, and he had been pretty supportive of my mood swings—even when they annoyed Jessie. He’d also helped around the house since my mom’s decline, and I’d be forever grateful for that.

  I followed them through the house and tried to look like I was into the party, but it was difficult to do. Being the third wheel sucked. A lot.

  Though the music became louder as we got closer to the backyard, it did not get better. I knew I’d have a raging headache by the end of the night.

  We followed the trail of red cups to the kitchen where a keg was set up in the corner. I looked around and imagined what my parents—sorry, parent—would do if she came home to this scene. I was picturing my mom’s face when a man in his mid to late forties walked in, slapped a few of the guys on their backs, then proceeded to do a handstand on the keg. While drinking out of it. I’d never seen that before.

  I know my mouth must have been open as I watched, but it fell to the floor when he finished and one of the high school boys said, “Yeah Dad, that was awesome!”

  Dad?

  All the guys whooped and hollered, and the dad walked away smiling triumphantly … and a little sloppily. I guessed it hadn’t been his first moment of impressing the kids tonight.

  The guy whose dad had just finished impressing the crowd saw Jessie walk in, and his face lit up at the sight of her. He pushed through the crowd to greet us, irritating a few of the female partygoers as he left them behind to come to us. I saw their glares directed at Jessie and imagined she probably dealt with them at school on a daily basis. He stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted Greg—who was, of course, still holding Jessie’s hand. He looked familiar as if we’d met at one party or another before this one.