by Alyson Noel
Then I clear my throat and say, "I thought you said you suck at love." I narrow my eyes on his, my stomach like a cold bitter marble, wondering why I can't just be happy when the most gorgeous guy on the planet professes his love. Why do I insist on going all negative?
"I was hoping this time would be different" he whispers.
I turn away, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps as I say, "I don't know if I'm up for all this. I don't know what to do."
He pulls me tight against his chest, his arms wrapped around me, as he says, "There's no rush to decide." And when I turn, he has this faraway look in his eyes.
"What's the matter?" I ask. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Because I suck at good-byes," he says, attempting a smile that never gets past his mouth. "See, now there's two things I suck at-love and good-byes."
"Maybe they're related." I press my lips together, warning myself not to cry. "So where you going?" I fight to keep my voice calm and neutral, even though my heart doesn't want to beat, and my breath doesn't want to come, and I feel like I'm dying inside.
He shrugs and looks away. "Are you coming back?"
"Up to you." Then he looks at me and says, "Ever, do you still hate me?"
I shake my head, but hold his gaze. "Do you love me?"
I turn my head and look away. Knowing I do, knowing I love him with every strand of hair, with every skin cell, with every drop of blood, that I'm bursting with love, boiling over, but I just can't bring myself to say it. But then again, if he can truly read my mind, then I shouldn't have to say it. He should just know.
"It's always nicer when it's spoken," he says, tucking my hair behind my ear, and pressing his lips to my cheek. "When you do decide, about me, about being immortal, just say the word and I'll be there. I have all of eternity laid out before me; you'll find I'm quite patient." He smiles, then reaches into his pocket, retrieving the silver, crystal encrusted, horse-bit bracelet he bought me at the track. The one I returned when I threw it at him that day in the parking lot. "May I" he gestures.
I nod, my throat too constricted to speak, as he closes the clasp, then cradles my face between the palms of his hands. Brushing my bangs to the side, and pressing his lips to my scar, infusing me with all of the love and forgiveness I know I don't deserve. But when I try to pull away, he holds me that much tighter and says, "You have to forgive yourself, Ever. You're not responsible for any of it."
"What do you know?" I bite down on my lip.
"I know you blame yourself for something that's not your fault. I know you love your little sister with all of your heart and you ask yourself every day if you're doing the right thing by encouraging her visits. I know you, Ever. I know everything about you."
I turn away, my face wet with tears I don't want him to see. "None of that's true. You've got it all wrong. I'm a freak, and bad things happen to everyone I come near, even though I'm the one who deserves it." I shake my head, knowing I don't deserve to be happy, don't deserve this kind of love.
He pulls me into his arms, his touch calm and soothing, but unable to erase the truth.
"I have to go," he finally whispers. "But Ever, if you want to love me, if you truly want to be with me, then you'll have to accept what we are. I'll understand if you can't."
And then I kiss him, pressing into him, needing the feel of his lips against mine, basking in the wonderful, warm glow of his love, the moment growing and swelling and expanding until it fills every space, every nook, every cranny.
And when I open my eyes and pull away, I'm back in my room, all alone.
Thirty-Two
"So what happened? We looked everywhere and never found you. I thought you were on your way?"
I roll over, turning my back to the window and chiding myself for failing to craft an excuse, which puts me in the awkward position of winging it. "I was, but then-well, I kind of got cramps, and-"
"Stop right there," Miles says. "Seriously, say no more."
"Did I miss anything?" I ask, closing my eyes against the thoughts in his head, the words scrolling before me like a latebreaking news ribbon on CNN: Ew! Disgusting! Why do they insist on talking about that stuff?
"Other than the fact that Drina never showed? Nope, not a thing. I spent the first part of the night helping Haven look for her, and the second part, trying to convince her she's better off without her. I swear, you'd think they were dating. Creepiest friendship ever, Ever! Hal Get it?" He loves making pun of my name.
I clutch my head and crawl out of bed, realizing it's the first morning in over a week that I've woken without a hangover. And even though I know that qualifies as a very good thing, that doesn't change the fact that I feel worse than ever.
"So what's going on? Care to indulge in a little Fashion Island Christmas shopping?"
"Can't. I'm still grounded," I say, pilfering through a pile of sweatshirts and pausing when I get to the one Damen bought me on our Disneyland date, before everything changed, before my life went from very weird to extraordinarily weird.
"How much longer?"
"No say." I drop the phone on my dresser and pull a lime green hoodie over my head, knowing it doesn't really matter how long Sabine grounds me, if I want to go out, I'll go out, I'll just make sure to return before she gets home. I mean, it's hard to contain a psychic. Though it does provide the perfect excuse to stay home, lay low; and avoid all that random energy, which is the only reason I'm going along with it.
I pick up the phone just in time to hear Miles say, "Okay, well, call me when you're released."
I step into some jeans, then sit down at my desk. And even though my head's pounding, my eyes are burning, and my hands are shaking, I'm determined to get through the day without the aid of alcohol, Damen, or illicit trips to the astral planes.
Wishing I'd been more insistent-demanded that Damen show me how to shield myself. I mean, why does the solution always seem to flow back to Ava?
Sabine tentatively knocks on my door and I turn as she steps into my room. Her face is pale and pinched, her eyes rimmed with red, and her aura has gone all spotty and gray.
And I cringe when I realize it's all because of Jeff, and the fact that she finally uncovered his mountain of lies. Lies I could've unveiled from the very beginning, sparing her all of this heartache, if only I hadn't put my needs before hers.
"Ever," she says, pausing by my bed. "I've been thinking. Since I'm not really comfortable with this whole grounding business, and since you're almost an adult, I figure I may as well treat you like one so-"
So you're no longer grounded, I think, finishing the sentence in my head. But when I realize she still thinks my troubles are due to my grief, my face burns with shame.
"-you're no longer grounded." She smiles, a gesture of peace I do not deserve.
"Though I was wondering if you changed your mind about talking to someone, because I know this therapist who-"
I shake my head before she can finish, knowing she means well, though refusing any part of it. And when she turns to leave, I surprise myself by saying, "Hey, you want to go out for dinner tonight?"
She hesitates in the doorway, clearly surprised by the offer. "My treat." I smile encouragingly, having no idea how I'll possiby get through a night in a big, crowded restaurant, but figuring I can use some of my racetrack money to cover the bill.
"That would be great," she says, tapping the wall with her knuckles before heading into the hall. "I'll be home by seven."
The second I hear the front door close and the dead bolt click, into place, Riley taps on my shoulder and shouts, "Ever! Ever!
Can you see me?"
And I nearly jump out of my skin.
"Jeez, Riley, you scared the hell out of me! And why are you yelling?" I say, wondering why I'm acting so crabby, when the truth is, I'm overjoyed just to see her again.
She shakes her head and plops onto my bed. "For your information, I've been trying to get through to you for days. I thought you lost your abil
ity to see me and I was totally starting to freak!"
"I did lose my ability. But only because I started drinking heavily. And then I got expelled." I shake my head. "It was a mess."
"I know." She nods, brows knit with concern. "I was watching the whole time, jumping up and down in front of you, yelling and screaming and clapping my hands, anything to try to get through to you, but you were too whacked to see me. Remember that one time, when the bottle flew out of your hand?" She smiles and curtsies before me. "That was me. And you're lucky I didn't conk you over the head with it instead. So, what the heck happened?"
I shrug and gaze down at the ground, knowing I owe her an answer, a valid explanation to ease her concern, but not sure where to begin. "Well, it's like, all that random energy just became so overwhelming, I couldn't take it anymore. And when I realized how alcohol shielded me from it, I guess I just wanted to keep that good feeling going, I didn't want to go back to the way I was before."
"And now?"
"And now-" I hesitate, looking at her. "And now I'm right back where I started.
Sober and miserable." I laugh.
«Ever-» She pauses, averting her gaze before looking at me.
"Please don't get mad, but I think you should go see Ava." And when I start to balk, she raises her hand and says, "Just hear me out, okay? I really think she can help you. In fact I know she can help you. She's been trying to help you but you won't let her. But now, well, it's pretty clear that you're running out of options. I mean, you can either start drinking again, hide in your room for the rest of your life, or go see Ava. Pretty much a no-brainer, don't you think?"
I shake my head despite all the pounding, then I look at her and say, "Listen, I know you're all enamored with her, and fine, whatever, that's your choice. But she's got nothing for me, so please just-just give it a rest already, would you?"
Riley shakes her head. "You're wrong. Ava can help you. Besides, what could it hurt for you to give her a call?"
I sit there, kicking my bed frame and staring at the ground, thinking the only thing Ava's ever done for me is make my life even worse than it is. And when I finally look at Riley again, I notice how she's ditched the Halloween costumes for the jeans, T-shirt, and Converse sneakers of a normal twelve-year-old kid, but she's also turned filmy, translucent, and practically seethrough.
"What happened with Damen? That day you went to his house? Are you still together?" she asks.
But I don't want to talk about Damen, I wouldn't even know where to begin. Besides, I know she's just trying to shift the attention from herself and her lucent appearance.
"What's going on?" I ask, my voice rising, frantic. "Why are you fading like that?"
But she just looks at me and shakes her head. "I don't have much time."
"What do you mean-you don't have much time? You're coming back, right?" I shout, panicking as she waves good-bye and disappears from sight, leaving Ava's crumpled-up card in her place.
Thirty-Three
Before I can even shift into park, she's at the front door, waiting.
Either she really is psychic, or she's been standing there since we hung up.
But when I see the concern on her face, I feel guilty for thinking it.
"Ever, welcome," she says, smiling as she ushers me up, the front steps and into a nicely decorated living room.
I gaze all around, taking in the framed photos, the elaborate coffee table books, the matching sofa and chairs, amazed by how normal it is.
"You were expecting purple walls and crystal balls?" She laughs, motioning for me to follow her into a bright sunny kitchen with beige stone floors, stainless steel appliances, and a sunlit skylight overhead. "I'll make us some tea," she says, setting the water to boil and offering me a seat at the table.
I watch as she busies herself, placing cookies onto a plate, and steeping our tea, and when she takes the seat across from mine, I look at her and say. "Um, sorry for acting sorudeandeverything." I shrug, cringing at how awkward and inadequate I sound.
But Ava just smiles, and places her hand over mine, and the moment she makes contact, I can't help but feel better. "I'm just glad you came, I've been so worried about you."
I gaze down at the table, my eyes fixed on the lime green placemat, not knowing where to begin.
But since she's in charge, she handles it for me. "Have you seen Riley?" she asks, her eyes on mine.
And I can't believe she chose to start there. "Yes," I finally say. "And for your information, she's not looking so good." I press my lips together and avert my gaze, convinced that she' s somehow responsible.
But Ava just laughs-laughs! "Trust me, she's fine." She nods, taking a sip of her tea.
"Trust you?" I gape, shaking my head. Watching her sip her tea and nibble at her cookie in that serene calm way that really sets me on edge. "Why should I? You're the one who brainwashed her! You're the one who convinced her to stay away!" I shout, wishing I hadn't even come here. What a huge colossal mistake!
"Ever, I know you're upset, and I know how much you miss her, but do you have any idea what she's sacrificed in order to be with you?"
I gaze out her window, my eyes grazing over the fountain, the plants, the small statue of Buddha; bracing myself for a really stupid answer.
"Eternity."
I roll my eyes. "Please, all she's got is time."
"I'm referring to something more."
"Yeah, like what?" I ask, thinking I should just set the cookie down and get the hell out of there. Ava's a nut bag, a phony, and she talks with such authority about the most outrageous things.
"Riley's being here with you means she can't be with them."
"Them?"
"Your parents and Buttercup." She nods, tracing her finger along the rim of her cup while looking at me.
"How'd you know about-"
"Please, I thought we were past this?" she says, her eyes right on mine.
"This is ridiculous," I mumble, averting my gaze, wondering what Riley could ever see in such a person.
"Is it?" She brushes her auburn hair from her face, revealing a forehead that's unlined and smooth, free of all worry.
"Fine. I'll bite. If you know so much, then tell me, just where do you think Riley is when she's not with me?" I ask, my eyes meeting hers. Thinking: This ought to be good.
"Wandering." She lifts her cup to her lips and takes another sip.
"Wandering? Oh, okay." I laugh. "Like you would know."
"She has no other choice now that she's chosen to be with you."
I gaze out the window, my breath feeling hot, abbreviated, telling myself there's no way this is true.
"Riley didn't cross the bridge."
"You're wrong. I saw her." I glare. "She waved good-bye and everything, they all waved good-bye. I should know: I was there."
"Ever, I've no doubt what you saw; but what I meant to say was, Riley didn't make it to the other side. She stopped halfway and ran back to find you."
"Sorry, but you're wrong," I tell her. "That's not at all true."
My heart pounding in my chest as I remember that very last moment, the smiles, the waves, and then-and then nothing-they disappeared, while I fought and begged and pleaded to stay.
They were taken, while I remained. And it's entirely my fault. It should've been me.
Every bad thing can be traced back to me.
"Riley turned back at the very last second," she continues.
"When no one was looking, and your parents and Buttercup had already crossed. She told me, Ever, we've been through it many times. Your parents moved on, you came back to life, and Riley got stuck, left behind. And now she spends her time wandering between visits to you, me, old neighbors and friends, and a few naughty celebrities." She smiles.
"You know about that?" I look at her, eyes wide.
She nods. "It's only natural, though most earthbound entities bore of it pretty quickly."
"Earthbound what?"
"Entities, sp" Jts, ghost
s, it's all the same. Though it's quite different from those who've crossed over."
"So you're saying Riley is stuck?"
She nods. "You have to convince her to go."
I shake my head, thinking: It's hardly up to me. "She's already gone. She barely comes around anymore," I mumble, glaring at her like she's responsible, but that's only because she is.
"You have to give her your blessing. You have to let her know it's okay."
"Listen," I say, tired of this discussion, of Ava butting into my business, telling me how to run my life. "I came here for help, not to listen to this. If Riley wants to stick around, then fine, that's her business. Just because she's twelve doesn't mean I can tell her what to do. She's pretty stubborn you know?"
"Hmmm, wonder where she gets it?" Ava says, sipping her tea and gazing at me.
But even though she smiles, tries to make like it's a joke, I just look at her and say, "If you've changed your mind about helping me, then just say so." I rise from my seat, my eyes teary, my body panicky, my head pounding, yet fully prepared to leave if I have to. Remembering what my dad taught me about the key to negotiating that you have to be willing to walk away no matter what.
She looks at me for a moment, then motions for me to sit.
"As you wish." She sighs. "Here's how you do it."
By the time Ava walks me outside, I'm surprised to see that it's already dark. I guess I spent more time in there than I realized, going through a step-by-step meditation, learning how to ground myself and create my own psychic shield. But even though things didn't start off so well, especially all that stuff about Riley, I'm still glad I came. It's the first time I've felt completely normal, without the crutch of alcohol or Damen, in a very longtime.
I thank her again, and head for my car, and just as I'm about to climb in, Ava looks at me and says, "Ever?"
I gaze at her, seeing her framed only by the soft yellow light of her porch now that her aura is no longer visible.
"I really wish you'd let me show you how to undo the shield. You might be surprised and find that you miss it," she coaxes.
