Hereafter

  “I was practicing for Debate.”

  She snorted in derision. “You’re not even in Debate. And anyway, you haven’t eaten lunch by yourself since . . . ever. So people are talking.”

  “And I care because . . . ?”

  Jillian’s tiny hands flew off her hips and folded together in a gesture of prayer. “Because your little sister really, really wants to be Homecoming Queen her senior year, and she can’t do that if you don’t leave her some coattails to ride on.”

  Joshua groaned and sank back into his seat. Undeterred by the groan, Jillian ducked down to pop her head in through the open window. She still wore that perpetually wry look even when she forced her lips into a begging pout.

  Lucky for her, her pleas worked on Joshua. Seeing her attempt at contrition, he barked out a genuine laugh. Jillian laughed too, and her entire face changed. The sharp edges softened, and her hazel eyes sparkled. She was beautiful when she laughed.

  “Fine,” Joshua conceded. “I’ll socialize. But just because your entire future depends on it.”

  Jillian snorted again but must have thought better than to continue fighting. She straightened, propped her hands upon her hips once more, and waited while Joshua rolled up his window.

  Once the window had closed, Joshua turned back to me. “Coming to class?” he whispered.

  I hesitated, just for a moment, and then whispered back, “Well, someone has to make sure you don’t fail Calculus.”

  Joshua opened his door and got out of the car, shoving past Jillian and circling to the passenger side. With one quick glance at his sister, possibly to see how closely she watched him, Joshua pulled open my door and ducked down to grab his book bag from the floor. I pushed myself up and squeezed through the narrow opening between his body and the doorjamb, careful not to brush against him.

  Apparently, he didn’t feel the need to be as careful with me as I was being with him. When I passed him, he ran his fingertips softly down the length of my calf. An instant wave of heat shot across the back of my leg.

  “Hey!” I cried. I heard Joshua snicker as he shut the door behind me. I started to reprimand him—at least, halfheartedly, anyway—when Jillian interrupted us again.

  “Josh, what was that noise?”

  Joshua froze, one hand still grasping the door handle. Slowly, cautiously, I spun around on one heel until I could see Jillian’s face over the top of the car. She looked serious now, with a confused frown dragging at the corners of her mouth.

  “Are you talking about my laugh?” Joshua asked her.

  “No, it sounded higher. Like a girl’s voice.”

  Joshua and I both balked, but he recovered faster. “Maybe you heard someone calling you, from the back lawn?” he suggested.

  She shook her head, a stubborn line forming between her eyebrows. “No, Josh, it was right here. By the car.”

  “Okay, okay.” Joshua held up his hands and gave a nervous, deflecting sort of laugh. “But you know they don’t give Homecoming crowns to girls who hear voices, right?”

  Jillian’s frown softened then. She looked as if the idea of appearing crazy was more frightening than some disembodied voice. She shook her head again, perhaps to shake away whatever she thought she’d heard, and smiled. “You never know—maybe psychosis will be the hot new thing in two years.”

  “Let’s hope so, for your sake.”

  Jillian rolled her eyes and jerked a thumb toward the school. “Socializing, Josh. Pronto.”

  Joshua gave her a dismissive wave, but Jillian seemed placated enough to turn and walk back to the school yard. Once she had moved out of earshot, I looked up at Joshua.

  “‘A girl’s voice’?” I whispered. “Do you think she heard me?”

  Joshua’s eyebrows drew together in thought. After a few more seconds of watching his sister’s retreat, he looked at me from the corner of his eye and mouthed, Seer?

  “Maybe,” I mused, also following Jillian’s figure as she strode onto the back lawn and into a pack of young girls. Before immersing herself in the pack, Jillian tossed a last glance over her shoulder at her brother. Her expression was one of annoyance, but she also looked puzzled—as if she wasn’t really sure what she’d just heard.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Joshua whispered, and then pulled his bag farther onto his shoulder. “Ready for class?”

  I nodded and then followed closely behind him through the parking lot, gnawing at my bottom lip. I couldn’t shake the image of Jillian’s confused, contemplative look. What exactly would it mean if I had another spiritually aware human to contend with? I loved Joshua’s awareness, but I didn’t really need Ruth Junior on my hands too—not right now.

  I was so lost in thought that I almost missed the sound of rushing air beside me. I only had time to cry out “Joshua!” before something large and grunting hit him in the back.

  It took me a second to realize the charging object was the burly, red-headed boy from Joshua’s Calculus class, the one who’d told him he should have skipped yesterday. Now I could see that the boy hadn’t actually hit Joshua; he’d merely wrapped one thick arm around Joshua’s neck and pulled him into a playful headlock.

  “Mayhew, dude, I knew you were a genius, but damn. Yesterday’s performance in Wolters’s class was epic.”

  Joshua laughed, but it came out sounding more like a strangled cough. Turning a little pink, Joshua began tapping on the boy’s arm.

  “O’Reilly, man, loosen up your kung fu grip.”

  “Oh.” With surprising speed, the boy—O’Reilly—let go of Joshua and gave him a few rough pats on the back. “Sorry, dude.”

  “No problem,” Joshua choked hoarsely.

  “So,” O’Reilly said as he picked up the bag he’d knocked off of Joshua’s shoulder. “You still stuck in the library for seventh period?”

  “Yeah, the doctor said I can’t do strength training until probably around Christmas. Because of the whole heart thing, you know?”

  “Dude, ’cause you, like, died, right?”

  O’Reilly’s words might have been offensive if they weren’t so guileless. When O’Reilly handed Joshua the bag, his brown eyes were wide with nothing but concern for his friend. I liked him immediately.

  “Yup. Because I died.” Joshua laughed and gave me a sly glance before continuing. “But don’t worry—I’ll be in condition for baseball season.”

  “You’d better be, dude. I need my center fielder. If you don’t show, I’ll probably throw you back in the river myself.”

  “Yeah, with one guy dead and one guy out for homicide, we’ll really be sure to win the regional championship.”

  The soft, unfamiliar voice surprised me, and I looked around the hulking form of O’Reilly for its source. Standing there behind O’Reilly was the other boy I’d noticed yesterday in Ms. Wolters’s class.

  This second boy was about Joshua’s height and build, but he had shaggy, sandy-colored hair and dark brown eyes. When O’Reilly leaned over to give him a lighthearted punch on the shoulder, he merely smiled slightly and curved his shoulders forward in a protective sort of way. The movement made him look shy, and I instantly warmed to him too.

  Joshua turned to the boy, holding up one hand for him to clasp. “Scott, man, what’s up?”

  Scott smiled more brightly. “Not much, Mayhew. How you feeling today?”

  “Great. Better than ever.” I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I saw Joshua’s free hand twitch toward me.

  “Sweet,” Scott said, nodding.

  As if Scott’s appraisal of Joshua’s health was some secret code, the boys begin to move collectively across the lawn without further commentary. I followed after them, a little mystified by their exchange.

  We’d nearly made it to the door to Ms. Wolters’s classroom when a series of giggles erupted behind us. Immediately, O’Reilly and Scott skidded to a stop and spun around. Joshua, however, sighed heavily before turning in the same direction.

  I turned, too, and saw a group of teenage gir
ls crowded together in a mass of low-cut tops and cheerleader skirts. In its center stood Jillian, surrounded by what was apparently her entourage. Unlike her friends, she looked bored and irritated. I got the sudden impression they’d forced her to come over here.

  “Ladies.” O’Reilly greeted them with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows. Unfortunately, the flock ignored him entirely and focused their attention on one thing, and one thing only: the handsome, dark-haired boy standing beside me.

  “Not ditching today, Josh?” one of the girls called out from the back. In unison, the flock began fluttering eyelashes and flipping hair.

  Joshua cocked his head to one side and smirked. “Not today. I’ve decided to grace everyone with my presence.”

  Jillian snorted and, true to form, rolled her eyes. But most of her friends obviously didn’t share her derision; all of them giggled as if Joshua had made the most hilarious joke they’d ever heard. A few girls even began to flip their hair more frantically, like showy birds in some weird mating ritual.

  “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” I grumbled under my breath.

  Oblivious to both my and Jillian’s irritation, one girl disentangled herself from the pack. Once free, the girl drew herself up to her full height, which was still several inches below mine, and flashed Joshua a brilliant smile.

  “Josh,” she purred, her voice throaty and deeper than I’d expected. Like her friends, she flipped back a strand of her honey blond hair. On her, though, the gesture seemed decidedly less childish, and her pale blue eyes had a calculating glint in them. “You can tell me—is Jillian being mean to you again?”

  “Well, she’s trying.”

  To my eternal relief, Joshua directed his answer at Jillian and not her pretty friend. The girl, however, wasn’t deterred. She slunk forward, passing her friends without a backward glance.

  “You just let me know if you need protection from mean old Jillian.” Her words dripped with innuendo, aided in no small part by the suggestive way she leaned toward Joshua.

  When he squirmed away from her, I felt the strangest mix of emotions. First, I wanted to jump into Joshua’s arms and give him a series of grateful kisses—rewards for his apparent disinterest in her. Next, I wished I was substantial enough to tackle this stranger and pull out her pretty hair.

  I shook my head, shocked at myself. Who was I to think such terrible things? The impulse unnerved me and made me think back to my fears about my nature. The nature Eli so strongly insisted would condemn me.

  Thankfully, Joshua shook his head, too, in response to the girl’s offer. “I appreciate it, Kaylen,” he said. “But I’ll stick with my regular bodyguards.”

  He nodded to O’Reilly and then to Scott. The boys, however, didn’t look as if they wanted to pull bodyguard duty. They looked as if they would let this girl protect them, any day, in any way.

  Kaylen merely shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said with a smile, not moving an inch away from Joshua.

  Jillian sighed and rolled her eyes again, her irritation now barely concealed. “Let’s go, Kaylen.”

  Finally—a few infatuated sighs and surreptitious second glances later—the crowd wandered off. Kaylen, of course, looked the most unwilling of all. She continued looking back at the boys as did Jillian, although I could swear Jillian’s eyes kept drifting to the spot in which I was standing. Though I felt a little foolish doing it, I wriggled behind O’Reilly and out of sight until Jillian rounded a corner.

  Once the girls were gone, O’Reilly and Scott released big, gusting breaths they had apparently been holding during Kaylen’s performance.

  “Dude, Kaylen Patton is smokin’ hot.” O’Reilly’s proclamation sounded worshipful.

  Hesitantly, I turned to see whether Joshua also intended to chime in with his own awe and reverence. Without taking his gaze from mine, Joshua shrugged.

  “I’ve seen better, boys. Much better.”

  Like an idiot, I giggled and had to grab a fold of my dress to keep my hand from reaching up to flip my hair.

  I sat on the edge of Joshua’s desk, trying not to distract him from a particularly dull lecture about integers. Soon enough, though, Ms. Wolters turned the class over to free study.

  Almost immediately after the room quieted, Joshua slid a piece of lined paper across his desk toward me. On it he’d written in thick, capable-looking script: I have a brilliant plan. Want to hear it?

  I laughed, but then instinctively slapped my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound. Without looking at me, Joshua grinned and wrote in the margin of the paper: You do realize no one else can hear you, right?

  “Don’t be so sure,” I whispered, picturing Jillian’s expression at lunch. Then I shook my head at my own ridiculousness and, louder, said, “Okay, I give in. What’s your brilliant plan?”

  Joshua tore another page out of his notebook and began to scribble furiously. Once finished, he pushed the paper over to me and then pretended to return to his Calculus book, watching me from the corner of his eye while I read.

  Okay, his note began, my plan sort of fits into a theory I came up with last night. We know you died in the river, and you’re still hanging around here. So, maybe you’re from here. You said you remembered these buildings, right? Maybe you even went here, before or after you were home-schooled. This is what I’m thinking: my study hall is in the library, where the old yearbooks are. We can go through all of them, starting with the most recent, and see if we can find your picture.

  Upon reading the last few words, I had the strangest sensation of the floor dropping out from under me.

  “Aren’t you supposed to, I don’t know, study, in study hall?”

  Joshua stared fully at me for a moment and then wrote again.

  Bad idea?

  I thought about that for a while. What was it about his suggestion that frightened me so much? After all, it might lead to some shred of information about my life. It might provide answers to so many of the questions that had plagued me the last few days, about who I had been, who I might become. Something that could combat what both Eli and Ruth had implied about me.

  But therein lay the problem, too. Because once I knew this information, once I pieced together the missing parts of my identity, I would become real. I would be a real person, with a real story. A story that had ended.

  Maybe that was the entire reason I’d never tried to find my headstone in the graveyard. Because, with such information, I would finally know—not just intuit, but truly know—I was dead.

  And so would Joshua. This was a milestone for which I wasn’t completely sure we were ready.

  “Joshua,” I started, my voice soft, “do you really believe . . . no, do you really know I’m dead? That I’m not alive? And I never will be again?”

  As he looked up at me, all the playfulness, the relaxed confidence, left his face. His expression softened and became one that was simultaneously sad and sweet. Very slowly, he nodded.

  I continued to stare at him. I really had no idea how to move forward from here. With my teeth clenched against the soft skin of my lip, I twisted my mouth to one side in frustration. In return Joshua gave me a small, close-lipped smile.

  I wasn’t imagining the hope I saw in that smile. In it I could almost read his thoughts: yes, he knew I was dead; but he still hoped that this deficiency of mine wouldn’t be a problem. Or maybe he thought he could find some kind of solution for me. For us.

  The incapacitating ache unfurled itself in my chest again. It told me, in the most basic if silent terms, what I knew I would do now. What I knew I would always do, whenever Joshua suggested something scary or unknown.

  I sighed heavily. “Okay. We’ll go to the library. We’ll try to find my picture.”

  It was now Joshua’s turn to frown. You sure? he mouthed.

  I started to answer No, I’m not sure I want to know who I am. Then I thought better of telling him the whole truth and instead chose to tell him only part of it.

  “If you’re with me
, I’m sure I’ll be okay.”

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  .....................................................................

  Chapter

  Fourteen

  After Ms. Wolters’s class ended and other students made their way to their next classrooms, Joshua and I strolled across the empty back lawn of the school.

  Every few seconds, Joshua would brush his hand against mine, sending sparks up, then down, then back up my arm. Despite the thrill of his touch, I moved with an intentional slowness toward the main building, knowing that through its door lay the library.

  “You know,” Joshua said, interrupting my thoughts, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

  He kept his expression perfectly even, perfectly casual. I knew better, though.

  I’d only known Joshua for three days. Yet I knew him well enough to hear the false note in his words. I could see the thoughts dancing in his eyes: unlike me, he wanted to go to the library. He wanted the excitement of discovering something new about me, of piecing my past together.

  And he was right; I knew it.

  Last night, after talking with Eli, I knew that my “nature”—the kind of person I was, both before and after I died—played a crucial role in how I would spend my afterlife. So I needed to know everything I could about myself before I had to face Eli or Ruth again. In fact, if I was completely honest with myself, I knew how essential today’s mission was.

  Of course, that didn’t mean I had to share Joshua’s enthusiasm. As he walked beside me, I could see him bouncing ever so slightly, jittery from excitement about our task. The brightness in his eyes and the happy swing of his arms contrasted starkly to my own appearance, which probably had a funereal sort of air.

  Whatever my mood, it was hard not to be a little flattered by Joshua’s behavior. I stifled a sigh before plastering a cheerful smile on my face.

  “No, Joshua, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  He must have been too excited to catch on to the undercurrent of my words, because he looked completely satisfied by my terrible lie. His entire face lit up as he skidded to a stop and leaned close to me.