DEDICATION
To Neil Salvano,
with love
EPIGRAPH
Awake and sing, ye that dwell in dust: for thy dew is as the dew
of herbs, and the earth shall cast out the dead.
ISAIAH 26:19, KING JAMES BIBLE
Cold in the earth — and the deep snow piled above thee,
Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave!
Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee,
Severed at last by Time’s all-severing wave?
Now, when alone, do my thoughts no longer hover
Over the mountains, on that northern shore,
Resting their wings where heath and fern-leaves cover
Thy noble heart for ever, ever more?
Cold in the earth — and fifteen wild Decembers
From those brown hills have melted into spring:
Faithful, indeed, is the spirit that remembers
After such years of change and suffering!
Sweet Love of youth, forgive, if I forget thee,
While the world’s tide is bearing me along;
Other desires and other hopes beset me,
Hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee wrong!
No later light has lightened up my heaven,
No second morn has ever shone for me;
All my life’s bliss from thy dear life was given,
All my life’s bliss is in the grave with thee.
But when the days of golden dreams had perished,
And even Despair was powerless to destroy;
Then did I learn how existence could be cherished,
Strengthened and fed without the aid of joy.
Then did I check the tears of useless passion —
Weaned my young soul from yearning after thine;
Sternly denied its burning wish to hasten
Down to that tomb already more than mine.
And, even yet, I dare not let it languish,
Dare not indulge in memory’s rapturous pain;
Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish,
How could I seek the empty world again?
EMILY BRONTË, “REMEMBRANCE”
CONTENTS
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
About the Author
Also by Alexandra Adornetto
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
The tray slipped from my fingers, hitting the cafeteria floor with a resounding crash. My hands remained frozen in place as the world seemed to slow. I watched a cascade of soda rise and fall again, drenching my feet as dozens of eyes automatically swivelled in my direction. I might have felt the sting of embarrassment had it not been for the numbness pervading my entire body. Instead, I felt disconnected, like a spectator on the outskirts of life.
My eyes fixed on the linoleum floor, now sloppy with food and drink, until I became aware of voices reaching me as if from a great distance.
“Chloe? Are you okay? What’s going on?”
The trance broke, shattered by the barrage of questions from Sam and Natalie who flanked me. I was reluctant to meet their eyes, knowing that an explanation would be required of me and I had none to offer. Somehow I doubted oops, butterfingers was going to cut it.
The feeling of disconnection passed, overshadowed by sickening confusion. Surely I’d misheard. Alexander Reade … here, at Sycamore High? The idea was too absurd to even contemplate. Only a few weeks ago I’d watched Alex’s spirit disappear from this world, sucked into a black void where I knew I’d never find it again. At least not in this lifetime. And even if by some impossibility his spirit had managed to slip through the cracks of eternity and find its way back, Alex wasn’t free to wander at will. His spirit was bound to Grange Hall, the house my grandmother ran as a B&B in England, where my brother Rory and I had been relegated for the summer after the sudden loss of our mom. Alex had told me himself that he’d wandered the grounds for over one hundred and fifty years. So the odds of him crossing the Atlantic Ocean and making his way to Southern California were zero to none.
No … there had to be some mistake.
For goodness sake, get a grip, I told myself. This was the year things were supposed to get back to normal. This was the year I was going to take all the crazy, lock it in a box and throw away the key. Up until this moment I hadn’t done too badly.
“Need some help?”
I looked up to find Zac Green standing in front of me. In the crowded cafeteria, he was the only person to come forward instead of simply gawping.
Sam and Natalie waited for him to acknowledge them, but he seemed oblivious to their presence. Sam blinked rapidly, the way she always did when irritated, her heavily mascaraed lashes almost dusting her cheeks.
“Chloe?” Looking concerned, Zac snapped his fingers under my nose.
I swallowed; my throat was as dry as old parchment. “Sorry,” I croaked. “Did you say something?”
“I think maybe you should sit down.”
“She’s fine.” Sam put a possessive arm around my shoulders, as if to reinforce that external help wasn’t necessary. I’d noticed before that when a guy failed to show interest in her, it always made her a little peevish. “We’re taking care of her.”
“Evidently,” Zac replied, his eyes never leaving my face. “Well, I’m here if you need anything, Chloe.”
I managed a grateful nod.
Only when he’d retreated to a safe distance did Sam release me. “Okay, what the hell just happened?” she demanded. “You totally zoned out on us!”
“It was nothing,” I lied. “Just a dizzy spell.”
“Maybe you should go see the nurse,” Natalie weighed in. “You don’t want to be the person who passes out in class. You’ll never live that down.”
It was amusing how she was more troubled by me losing status in the school community rather than any potential health issues I might be battling.
I waved my hands at them. “Don’t worry. It’s over now.”
I felt a small stab of guilt for cutting them out instead of confiding in them like I would have ordinarily. But as far as I could see, I didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. There was no way I could explain what was happening without sounding like a total basket case. Besides, I wasn’t sure myself what was happening.
“Are you sure?” Sam peered at me inquisitively. “You were like a zombie for a minute there. It was supes scary.”
“Supes?” I repeated dubiously. “Come again?”
“It’s like super,” she explained, like she was imparting classified White House information. “Only now we say supes instead. It’ll be trending in a few months, but by then we probably won’t use it any more. It’s more fun to say, don’t you think?”
“Uh, I don’t really get it …”
“That’s because you’re behind the times now, Chloe.” Natalie shook her head gravely. “It’s very important to stay ahead of the game.”
“What game?” I asked.
Sam gave up. “Don’t worry. We’ll try and bring you up to speed before anybody notices.”
They were behaving as if I’d been gone a lifetime when in fact it had only
been a matter of weeks. Although so much had happened in that short space of time, it felt more like years. I had to admit, this once-familiar place was now utterly foreign to me. It was like I didn’t belong any more, like my true home was somewhere light years away. Both my mother’s death (which I was still struggling to accept) and then my separation from Alex had left me with a cavernous metaphorical hole in my chest.
It was lucky my friends had short attention spans. They had already delved into a new topic of conversation, chattering away like monkeys, my weird episode all but forgotten. I grabbed some paper napkins and bent to mop up the mess. The task offered a momentary reprieve in which to gather my thoughts.
As soon as my mind returned to Alex, my heart began fluttering like a caged bird against my ribs. It couldn’t be him. Of course, it wasn’t him. But then who was this person claiming to be Alexander Reade? Was it some cruel supernatural prank? Or just a hideous coincidence? I had no idea, but I knew I wouldn’t calm down until I found the answer.
Despite doing my best to keep a level head, I couldn’t quash the little voice of hope that sprang up in my mind: Perhaps our connection ran so deep, not even death could separate us.
It was a wildly romantic idea, but there was a small part of me that wanted desperately to believe it was true. Okay, a large part. Ugh, I sounded like a moony teenager who’d read one too many romance novels. Besides, deep down I knew I was only setting myself up for more heartache. When “Alexander Reade” turned out to be some random guy who’d moved here from Montana, I’d be devastated.
I heard a rattling sound and looked up to find the school janitor, Miguel, wheeling his clunky yellow cart in my direction. Miguel was a sweetheart. He had a shaky grasp of the English language and most of the students treated him as if he were invisible, yet he wore a permanent smile from ear to ear. I wondered if cleaning up after hundreds of entitled teenagers was what he’d had in mind when he came to America, the land of opportunity? I immediately felt bad for adding to his daily workload.
“It’s okay,” I said once he was close. “It’s my mess, I can clean it up.”
“No, no.” He shook his head firmly, gently swatting my hands away. “My job. You no worry, Miss Chloe.”
I was touched to discover he knew my name, but it wasn’t altogether surprising. Miguel was one of those people who said little but observed much.
“Thank you,” I said, before my friends each took an arm and steered me away from the prying eyes of the cafeteria.
“I have an idea!” Natalie declared once we reached the privacy of the hall. “Why don’t we ditch fourth period and all go to lunch in West Hollywood instead?”
Sam snorted. “On the first day of our last semester of senior year? We’ll never get away with it. Right, Chloe?”
“What did he look like?” I blurted. I’d been planning to work up to that, but it slipped out before I could stop it. Alex’s face was flooding my thoughts, leaving little room for much else.
“Who?” They fixed me with matching blank stares.
“The new guy, the one you saw this morning. I think I might know him from somewhere.”
“I don’t think so,” Natalie said dismissively. She was already on her phone looking up the best West Hollywood hot spots. “If we don’t know him, I doubt you would. Besides, he looked a little creepy.”
“What? No way!” Sam protested. “He was sexy, in a bad boy kind of way.”
“More like a serial killer kind of way. His skin’s so pale it’s like he’s never seen the sun before.”
Sam shrugged. “Whatever. I liked him and I wanted to talk to him.”
“We did talk to him,” Natalie snapped back. “He didn’t seem that interested in talking to us so quit your whining.”
“What did he say?” I fought to keep my voice casual.
“Nothing much,” Sam replied. “Actually, I can’t remember anything he said — I was too distracted by that voice. My God, he talks just like a prince! You know British accents are my one weakness.”
Natalie laughed. “Any male with a heartbeat is your weakness.”
“Shut up!” Sam elbowed her good-naturedly and they descended once again into a conversation that didn’t require my input.
It was a good thing since I’d forgotten how to breathe.
A pale-skinned guy named Alexander Reade with a British accent had just showed up out of nowhere? That was no coincidence. But what the hell was going on? If Alexander was really here, it could only mean one of two things: that he was now alive, or I was dead. But he couldn’t be alive. And I was pretty sure I hadn’t died because that would mean Sycamore High was the afterlife, which would be the worst afterlife of all time. Imagine all that good behaviour only to end up relegated to high school for the rest of eternity? I’d opt for hellfire and damnation any day.
“What is up with you?” Sam peered into my face. “You’re doing it again — going all weird and spacey.”
“I have to go,” I said, ducking my head to escape her scrutinising gaze.
“What? Why?”
I went with the first thing that popped into my head. “I’m sick. Rory’s got that stomach flu that’s been going around. I must have caught it from him. I better go home before I pass it on to you guys.”
I hurried away before they could argue or fire off any more questions.
“Chloe!” Natalie yelled after me. “At least call us later, okay? Okay?”
I barely heard her. Adrenaline was buzzing through me, making my ears ring and my face flush like I was riding a Tilt-A-Whirl. I had to find Alex … or at least the impostor masquerading as Alex. The only problem was I had no idea where to look.
I decided a systematic approach made the most sense so I worked my way through the main building, starting with an extensive search of the science wing. This basically involved me creeping along and peering through classroom windows, leaping out of view every time I was at risk of being seen by a teacher. It was definitely the kind of behaviour to spark attention so I was surprised when no one spotted me. When it was obvious Alex wasn’t in the science wing, I moved on to the library, then the infirmary, the gym, the assembly hall and everything in between. Along the way I stole surreptitious glances at every long-haired boy who passed me, hoping that one of them might look back at me with those crystalline blue eyes that I only saw in my dreams now.
By the time the final bell chimed, I was out of ideas. I’d looked everywhere and Alex was nowhere to be found. This was hardly what I’d had in mind for my first day back at school, and part of me wondered if I shouldn’t just get in my car and go home. Perhaps tomorrow would bring the fresh start I so desperately desired.
But standing alone in an empty hallway, I realised it wasn’t desire I felt or even frustration. It was anger. It seemed the universe was messing with me on purpose. It was playing a little game, only I didn’t know the rules. It was just so … unfair. I hated that word, it sounded so whiny, but I couldn’t think of anything more fitting. Hadn’t I been through enough? The loss of my mom was sudden and unexpected. Maybe that was what made it so much more devastating. It shouldn’t have happened. She left for work one morning complaining of a slight headache and never came home. A blood vessel burst in her brain, flooding it and causing irreparable damage. Up until then I hadn’t even heard of a cerebral aneurysm. She was in her forties and I’d never known her to have so much as a cold. Researching via internet forums is never a smart idea, but I couldn’t help myself. I was looking for signs we might have missed, a concrete reason that might make the loss a little more bearable. But it was only meeting and falling in love with Alex that lessened the grief a little. The fact that he had long departed this world made him the only person who could really understand. Now it felt like old wounds were about to re-open. Couldn’t something, anything, in my life go according to plan just once?
I’d spent the last weeks trying to erase Alex’s memory from my mind and finally I’d felt like I was making headway. My retu
rn from England had hardly been smooth sailing; in fact, it had been downright agonising, but with every passing day I told myself I was moving forward. Now I felt like some invisible force had seized me by the throat and flung me right back where I’d started. To add insult to injury, I would now be in trouble for not attending classes on the first day of semester. But I’d have to deal with that later.
I wished I could say that since coming home, Alexander Reade had never crossed my mind. But that would be an epic lie. I’d thought about him every day, more than I cared to admit. I knew it was a problem, but I could see no simple solution. Before I fell for Alex, I’d never known what it felt like to miss someone the second they left a room. I’d never understood the idea of trusting someone so implicitly that my innermost thoughts were no longer private; or that true intimacy wasn’t physical, but a merging of souls. What if I never found that again? What if I spent the rest of my life in a fruitless search for something that never came close to what we’d shared?
If there was any truth to the theory that humans had only one soul mate, I’d met and lost mine in the space of a few weeks. Now didn’t that seem a little unfair?
As I made my way to the parking lot, the sound of laughter distracted me from my gloom. A group of senior hipsters were swaggering toward me, headed for the theatre. Had rehearsals for the school play started up again already? They sure weren’t wasting any time.
I knew Rory had a swim meet after school, and my dad was always working late these days, so I decided to follow the group. I didn’t have the strength to face an empty house.
I slipped into the theatre just before the door swung shut behind the last student. It was cool inside, with that airless musky scent of velvet. This was the oldest part of the school, still awaiting renovation, so the acoustics weren’t great. On the stage a jumble of kids were swigging from soda cans and making a general racket. A few of the younger ones had raided the prop chest and were playing catch with a dented old skull, until the drama teacher, Mr Helton, marched onto the stage and confiscated it.
“I don’t remember seeing you before,” Mr Helton said to me as he stomped back to his seat in the front row. “I have no room for idlers in my theatre.”
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