Everneath

by Ashton, Brodi

  “It’s okay. Sorry about your…” I motioned to his face. A drop of blood trickled down his lip, and I reached into my bag and pulled out the closest thing I had to a tissue—a knit tea cozy I’d been working on.

  “Here,” I said. I brought the tea cozy to his lip and put his hand there to hold it in place. He held it there for a second and then pulled it away to look at it. Without a teapot under it, the cozy looked a little misshapen.

  “What is this?” he asked, his lip twitching.

  “A tea cozy.”

  “Of course.”

  We stood there in an awkward silence for a moment. I wondered if he was still mad at me. I couldn’t tell from his expression, and I couldn’t discern the taste of the energy in the air. I only knew there was a lot of it. I didn’t know if I’d ever get better at it.

  Jack gripped the tea cozy so tight, his knuckles turned white.

  When I couldn’t take the silence anymore, I said, “What are you doing here?” It sounded like an accusation.

  Jack raised an eyebrow and let up on his death grip of the tea cozy. “I heard this place has great tile.” He jerked his head toward the floor.

  I gave a nervous laugh.

  “Truth is, I saw your car out front,” he said. My heart did a little happy dance. Maybe he wasn’t so mad anymore. “So, what’s so special about the floor?”

  “It’s not the floor. I was just … reaching for…” I crouched down again and grabbed the nearest thing off the bottom shelf. “These.”

  He looked at the package in my hand and raised his eyebrows. “Chocolate-covered raisins?”

  I nodded.

  “You don’t like raisins.”

  He remembered. “They’re, um, not so bad now.”

  He gave a little nod and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I guess everything changes.”

  I wanted to yell out, Nothing changes! I still hate raisins! But then I heard a loud motorcycle pull into the parking lot. I glanced out the window.

  It was Gavin, the Dead Elvises’ drummer.

  What if he saw me here? I had to assume if Maxwell knew about me, then Gavin would too, and I didn’t want him to report back to Cole that I was snooping around. And I doubly didn’t want to involve Jack.

  “I have to go,” I said. I had to get out of there before Gavin came in.

  “Wait, Becks,” Jack said. He tried to grab my hand, but I yanked it away and pulled my hoodie over my head, all Unabomber, and started toward the door. Jack stood there watching me with a confused look on his face. “Don’t leave.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, backing toward the door. “I am.”

  “What about your raisins?” Jack said.

  I could see Gavin flip the bike’s kickstand with his foot. “I don’t want them anymore,” I said. “You’re right. They’re gross.”

  I was almost to the door now.

  “Don’t you want this?” Jack held up the tea cozy. It was as if he were trying to make my escape even more difficult. Gavin was crossing the parking lot.

  “No. Keep it.”

  Right as I shoved the door open, I heard Jack mumble, “I guess nothing says ‘I’m sorry’ like a tea cozy.” Frustrated, he kicked the counter that held the rotating hot dog machine.

  Then I made it out, and the door slammed shut behind me.

  I ducked my head and passed Gavin just as he reached the door. He didn’t seem to notice me, and I was pretty sure he hadn’t heard Jack.

  I avoided my car and walked up the street a little ways, sat down on the curb, and let out a breath of relief.

  I hadn’t learned anything new, except that another one of the Dead Elvises had an affinity for the Shop-n-Go. And Jack officially thought I’d lost my last marble.

  I put my head in my hands. After several long minutes, I felt someone sit down next to me. I half expected it to be Jack, but when I looked up, I saw Mary. I’d never seen her outside the soup kitchen before.

  “Mary,” I said. “Hi.”

  Mary was looking straight ahead. She scratched her arm a few times, as if something there were bothering her. “I come here a lot too.”

  I grimaced. “Where? The Shop-n-Go?”

  “Yes. I come here for supplies. The cashier doesn’t notice things.”

  Great. She just admitted she’s a shoplifter.

  She patted my knee. “Okay. I have to go. I’m late.”

  “For what?” I asked.

  Her face went blank, as if my question made no sense, and she scratched her arm again. “I hope you find it.”

  “Find what?”

  “What you were looking for.” She looked at me like I was the one suffering from dementia. She stood up and wandered down the street, pausing only to ask a couple of tourists for some spare change. I hoped they gave her plenty.

  THIRTEEN

  NOW

  School. Less than three months left.

  Mrs. Stone read through a rough draft of my paper, and one day after school she sat in the desk in front of me. “Nikki, you seem to have a chip on your shoulder when it comes to ancient myths.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She smiled. “You place an inordinate amount of blame on some of the central figures of Greek mythology.”

  I was quiet for a moment, unsure of how to answer.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I love how you’ve seamlessly planted characters such as Persephone in a modern high-school setting. Superb.” She placed the stack of papers on my desk. “But you, as the author, are letting your disdain show through.”

  “How?” I asked.

  She gave me a wry smile. “Like when your modern Demeter, and basically everyone else who’s even nice to your Persephone, gets killed or maimed by random acts of violence.”

  Oh yeah. I nodded.

  “Now, if you intended to offer a scathing indictment of heroes, well, you’re succeeding.”

  “I just think they were foolish,” I said. “Made irrational decisions in hopeless quests.”

  “Maybe. But don’t forget that what we can glean from these stories is not the string of decisions that got them into harrowing situations but what sacrifices did they make? Did Demeter give up when Persephone was kidnapped? Did she ever lose hope that she would get her daughter back?”

  “That’s just it, Mrs. Stone. She shouldn’t have let herself hope, because she didn’t really get her back. Persephone ended up ruling the Underworld anyway. I don’t know why she wasted her time.”

  Mrs. Stone paused. “Now you’re asking the right question. Why do we hope when all hope is lost? What if Orpheus had given up hope?”

  “Who?”

  “Orpheus. We’ll talk about him later in the unit, but in a nutshell: The love of Orpheus’s life, Eurydice, was taken to the Underworld. He was desperate to get her back, but no one ever comes back from the Underworld, right? Orpheus didn’t give up, though. He followed her and pleaded with Hades to let her go. He played music for Hades and touched his heart, so much that Hades released Eurydice on one condition— that Orpheus never look back as they left.”

  Goose bumps appeared on my arms. I wasn’t familiar with the story, but Cole said most myths were rooted in some truth. Could it be that a mortal girl who was bound to the Everneath escaped? I stayed quiet, anxious for Mrs. Stone to go on.

  “I’d like you to ask yourself, Who loses hope first? And who never gives up? Because it’s not the supernatural abilities that set mythical characters apart.” She leaned forward. “It’s the decisions the human characters make, in impossible situations, that have us still talking about them centuries later. Heroes are made by the paths they choose, not the powers they are graced with.”

  I didn’t tell her my opinion about the existence of heroes. I wanted her to talk about Eurydice again. “So this Eurydice escaped the Underworld?”

  “Yes.” Mrs. Stone paused. “For a moment.”

  “What happened?”

  “Orpheus couldn’t help looking back to make s
ure she was behind him. She was sucked back down.” She smiled and patted the papers in front of me, as if she hadn’t just obliterated my little ray of hope. “What you’ve done here is fine work. Good structure. Solid voice. But I think you can dig a little deeper.”

  I nodded, no longer paying close attention. No one could escape.

  “Okay. We’re good here. I can’t wait to see your next draft, Nikki. Don’t shy away.”

  When I left Mrs. Stone’s classroom, I couldn’t get my mind off the story of the two lovers. Which is why I didn’t notice, at first, the small group of students gathered around something at the edge of the football field.

  I watched the crowd as I walked toward the parking lot. I wouldn’t have stopped, only I saw Jules standing there, and she turned to stare at me. Something in the way she looked at me made me want to see what was going on. As I walked closer, a couple more students turned to watch. As if they’d expected me.

  Then a voice rang out from somewhere in the middle of the fray. Jack’s voice.

  “Leave her alone!”

  Another voice. An all-too-familiar voice. Cole—as the dark-haired Neal. “She got to you, didn’t she? And you want more. They always do.”

  Oh crap. I picked up the pace and pushed my way into the center, where Jack and Cole were facing off. I wanted to grab Jack, to wrap my arms around him and pull him away. But I didn’t feel like it was my right, since he was angry with me.

  So I stood in front of Cole.

  “Stop it.” I put my hand on his chest. Despite being an immortal, he had the physical strength of a regular boy my age, nothing more. He still could have flattened me, but he gave way and stepped back. And I realized my mistake. The way he gave in to me made it look like we were together.

  Everyone watched. My face was sweating.

  “I can’t help it, Nik,” he said with a smirk. “He’s such an easy target.”

  Jack made a lunge toward Cole, but I stood my ground in the middle. I was about to get squashed.

  “Jules!” I called out, as Jack collided with us. He tried to strong-arm me out of the way, but then Jules was there, tugging on his arm, trying to pull him off. I wondered why she hadn’t tried to stop it before now.

  “C’mon, Jack,” she said. “Let’s go. Please.”

  Jack didn’t take his eyes off of Cole, but he let Jules lead him away. The crowd let out a collective sigh, probably disappointed there’d be no fight.

  Cole turned to me as we walked and licked his lips. “Oh man, his humiliation is absolutely delicious.”

  “Stop it, Neal. Just stop it. None of this is going to help you get me back.”

  “It’s not just about getting you back, Nik. Poor Jack is smitten. I feel sorry for the boy and what he’s going to go through again. I’m doing this for both of you.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “Leave Jack out of this. He wants nothing to do with me anyway.”

  “You’re wrong, Nik. He wants everything to do with you.”

  We both looked over at Jack, who was letting Jules lead him to the parking lot. Jack’s eyes cut back and forth between Cole and me. I felt like I was betraying him somehow.

  “Poor Jules,” Cole said.

  I turned to look at him. “What do you mean?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t see it. She’s in love with Jack. And she thought there was a chance, until…”

  “I came back,” I said.

  He nodded, and then shrugged as he turned toward Jules again. “Now she doesn’t know what to do. Maybe I can help her decide.” He glanced at me sideways. “Do you think I’m her type?”

  We’d reached his big black-and-silver motorcycle parked illegally along the curb.

  “Don’t say things like that, Cole. Please.”

  “Would that bother you?” He had a strange look on his face. Almost vulnerable. It had come so quickly, and it made him look like a different person.

  “Yes,” I said. He started to smile, until I added, “I don’t want you anywhere near the people I love.”

  He was taken aback, but then he chuckled and was back to his old self. “You can end this anytime, Nik.”

  I didn’t answer. I had underestimated how much damage he could do before I left. He couldn’t hurt me, but he could hurt the people I cared about.

  Cole sauntered the rest of the way to the motorcycle, swung a leg over, and kicked it to life. “Just say the word.”

  He revved the engine and looked past me, toward the parking lot. His expression became smug and he grinned as he pushed away from the curb. I turned to see what had captured his attention. Then it all happened quickly.

  I heard Cole take off just as my eyes registered Jack in his black car, peeling out after Cole. Jules was left behind, calling out frantically after him. The chase was on.

  Jules and I exchanged silent glances for just a moment. Then we both took off at a run toward my car.

  “You drive,” I said to her as I tossed her the keys. She snatched them out of the air. My driving was still a bit rusty. Maybe she could catch us up faster.

  We didn’t say a word to each other as Jules tore through the streets. She kept to the main road, probably figuring the boys had done the same. I hoped she was right.

  We didn’t see any signs of Jack’s car or Cole’s motorcycle.

  “Look,” Jules said. She pointed to an older couple on the sidewalk. They were looking farther down the road, toward a sharp bend, with obviously panicked expressions.

  Jules sped up.

  As Jack’s car came into view, I let out a yelp of horror. The front end of his car was wrapped around a telephone pole. A few people stood near the car, looking in the windows and calling out to Jack. Some were already on cell phones.

  I threw open the door and bolted out before Jules could even stop the car.

  “Jack!” I called out as I pushed a man out of my way. Jack was slumped over the steering wheel. “Jack. Jack! Can you hear me?”

  I pulled Jack away from the wheel. His eyes were halfway open, and his cheek started to swell and turn red. I turned his head toward me. “Jack. Can you hear me?”

  His eyes fluttered. “Is the boy okay?”

  “What boy?”

  “The boy. In the street.”

  I turned to the man behind me. “Was there a boy?”

  He shrugged.

  “I almost hit him,” Jack insisted.

  “There’s no one.” I pushed his hair away from his eyes and took a closer look at his cheek. Maybe there really had been a boy in the street, but I also wouldn’t put it past Cole to make one appear, if he had that power.

  Jack’s eyes opened fully, and he looked at me with half a grin. “You remember the first time I told you I loved you?” His words slurred together.

  “Shhhhh. Don’t talk. The paramedics are on their way.”

  “Do you?”

  I touched his cheek and he winced. I could almost taste his pain, as if it were a tangible element in the air. I could feel my body hungering for the hurt. It was the first time since I’d Returned that I craved someone else’s energy. Even at my lowest point, those last moments in the Everneath, I’d never felt a need for it. Until now. Until I was faced with emotions this strong.

  He tilted his head toward me, and I jerked back. The taste in the air became bitter and sweet, a mixture of pain and longing.

  “Tell me you remember,” he said. “Please.”

  The pain was no longer coming from one source. It was behind me as well. I turned, knowing whom I would see. Jules stood a few yards back, watching us, and the look on her face made it clear that she had heard everything.

  I ducked my head and walked back through the crowd. As I passed her, I said, “He needs you. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

  Sirens wailed in the distance. I glanced down at my hand, the one that had touched his cheek.

  This had to stop. I had to stop.

  FOURTEEN

  NOW

/>   My bedroom. Less than three months left.

  The halfway point of my Return had come and gone, and I still wasn’t any closer to saying good-bye. The only thing I had actually accomplished was getting Jack beat up. It was nobody’s fault but my own.

  When I got home after the accident, Cole was waiting for me in my room, as usual. But today was the first time I actually wanted him there.

  “I’m ready to leave.”

  He sat upright. “You are? I…” he started, as if wondering what he should pack. Apparently I’d surprised him. “Sorry, I just… Wow. I thought you’d take a lot more convincing. Let’s go.”

  He stood and held out his hand. I didn’t take it. “I said I’m ready to leave. Not that I’m going with you.”

  He let his hand drop to his side. “What do you mean?”

  I took a deep breath. “I’m ready to go to the Tunnels.” At my words, the mark began to writhe underneath my skin, like a muscle spasm.

  A scowl replaced Cole’s smile, and he sat back down on the bed and started playing his guitar as if I hadn’t said anything.

  “I want to go,” I said.

  “See ya.”

  He wasn’t looking at me. I pressed my lips together and balled my hands into fists. “How do I do it, Cole?” He strummed another chord. “The Tunnels want me. They’re going to take me anyway. How do I go there now?”

  He shrugged. “My best guess? It’s called the Everneath for a reason, so aim that way”—he pointed toward the floor— “and go.”

  I sat on the bed next to him and grabbed his hand before he could strum another chord. He stared at my hand, wrapped around his.

  “Please, Cole. This situation can’t be good for you, either. You obviously aren’t moving on. I don’t know what’s out there for you, but there has to be something more than this—hanging around me. Trying to convince me of something that will never happen.”

  He jerked his hand away and looked at me. “Once you choose to Return, there’s no getting out of it early. Except to go with me. I can help you.”

  “You’d help me … lose my heart. Right? That’s what it would mean to go with you. I’d lose my heart. And then to survive, I’d have to ruin someone else’s life. Sentence them to the Tunnels.”