Evermore

  I shake my head and stick my key in the ignition, looking up again when she says, "Ever, please think about what I said. You've got it all wrong.

  You've said good-bye to the wrong person."

  "What're you talking about?" I ask, just wanting to get home, so I can start enjoying my life once again.

  But she just smiles. "I think you know what I mean."

  No longer grounded and released of all that psychic baggage, I spend the next few days hanging with Miles and Haven, meeting for coffee, going shopping, seeing movies, trolling around downtown, watching his rehearsals, thrilled to have my life back to normal again. And on Christmas morning, when Riley appears, I'm relieved I can still see her.

  "Hey, wait up!" she says, blocking the door just as I'm about to head down the stairs.

  "No way are you opening your presents without me!" And when she smiles, she's so radiant and clear she appears almost solid, nothing flimsy, filmy, or translucent about her.

  "I know what you're getting!" She grins. "Want a hint?"

  I shake my head and laugh. "Absolutely not! I love not knowing for a change," I say, smiling as she walks over to the middle of my room and executes a perfect series of cartwheels.

  "Speaking of surprises." She giggles. 'Jeff bought Sabine a ring! Can you believe it?

  He moved out of his mom's house, got his own place, and is begging her to come back and start over!"

  "Serious?" I say, taking in her faded jeans and layered tees, glad to see she's done with the costumes and no longer copyingme.

  She nods. "But Sabine will send it right back. I mean, at least from what I can tell it's not like she's actually received the ring yet, so I guess we'll wait and see. Still, people rarely surprise you, you know?"

  "Still spying on celebrities?" I ask, wondering if she has any dish.

  She makes a face and rolls her eyes. "God no. I was being seriously corrupted.

  Besides, it's always the same old thing, shopping binges, food binges, drug binges, followed by rehab. Wash, rinse, and repeat-yawn."

  I laugh, wishing I could reach out and hug her instead. I was so afraid I'd lost her.

  "What're you looking at?" she asks, peering at me. "You." I smile.

  "And, I'm so glad you're here. And that I can still see you. I was afraid I'd lost that ability when Ava showed me how to make that shield."

  She smiles. "To be honest, you did. I really had to ramp up my energy so you could see me. In fact, I'm using some of yours. Do you feel tired?"

  I shrug. "A little, but then again, I just woke up." She shakes her head.

  "Doesn't matter. It's still me."

  "Hey Riley." I look at her. "Are you still… visiting Ava?" I ask, holding my breath as I wait for the answer.

  She shakes her head. "Nah. I'm over that too. Now come on, I cannot wait to see your face when you unwrap your new iPhone! Oops!" She laughs, placing her hand over her mouth as she backs right through the closed bedroom door.

  "You're really staying?" I whisper, making my exit the traditional way. "You don't have to leave, or be somewhere else?"

  She climbs on top of the banister and slides her way down, looking back at me and smiling when she says, "Nope, not anymore."

  Sabine returned the ring, I had a new iPhone, Riley was back to visiting every day, sometimes even accompanying me to school, Miles started dating one of the Hairspray backup dancers, Haven dyed her hair dark brown, swore off everything goth, began the painful process of lasering off her tattoo, burned all of her Drina-dresses, and replaced them with emo. New Year's came and went, marked by a small gathering at my house that included sparkling cider for me (I was officially off the sauce), contraband champagne for my friends, and a midnight dip in the Jacuzzi, which was pretty tame as far as New Year's parties go, but not at all boring. Stacia and Honor still glared at me, pretty much the same as before, even worse on the days when I wore something cute, Mr.

  Robins got a life (one without his daughter or his wife), Ms. Machado still cringed when she looked at my art, and between it all was Damen.

  Like caulk around a tile, like binding in a book, he filled all of my blank empty spaces and held everything together, kept it all contained. Through every pop quiz, every shampoo, every meal, every movie, every song, every dip in the Jacuzzi, I held him in my mind, comforted just by knowing he was out theresomewhere-even though I'd decided against him.

  By Valentine's Day, Miles and Haven are in love-though not with each other. And' even though we sit together at lunch, I may as well have been on my own. They were too busy hovering over their Sidekicks to notice my existence, while my iPhone sat beside me, silent and ignored.

  "Omigod, this is hilarious! You can't believe how brilliant he is!" Miles says, for the gazillionth time, gazing up from his text, his face flushed with laughter, as he thinks of the perfect reply.

  "Omigod, Josh just gifted me like, a ton of songs! I am so not worthy," Haven mumbles, thumbs tapping a response.

  And even though I'm happy for them, happy that they're happy and all that, my mind is on sixth-period art, and I'm wondering if I should ditch. Because here at Bay View High, today is not only Valentine's Day, it's also Secret Heart Day. Which means that those big, red, heart-shaped lollipops, the ones with the little pink love notes they've been pushing all week, are finally distributed. And while Miles and Haven are fully expecting to receive theirs even though their boyfriends don't go here, I'm just hoping to get through the day, somewhat sane, and mostly unscathed.

  And even though I fully admit that ditching the iPod, hoodie, dark sunglasses combo has allowed for a considerable amount of renewed male interest, it's not like I'm interested in any of them. Because the truth is, there's not one guy in this school (on this planet!), who could ever compare to Damen. No one. Nada. Just not possible. And it's not like I'm in a hurry to lower my standards.

  But by the time the Sixth-period bell rings, I know I can't ditch. My ditching days, like my drinking days, are pretty much over. So I suck it up and head to class, immersed in my latest, illfated assignment-to mimic one of the isms. And I happened to choose cubism-making the mistake of thinking it would be easy. But it's not. In fact, it's far from it.

  And when I sense someone standing behind me, I turn and say, "Yeah?" Peering at the lollipop he holds in his hand, then focusing back on my work, assuming it's a case of mistaken identity. But when he taps me again, this time I don't bother looking, I just shake my head and say, "Sorry, wrong girl."

  He mumbles something under his breath, then clears his throat and says, "You're that Ever chick, right?"

  I nod.

  "Then take it already." He shakes his head. "I gotta get through this entire box before the bell rings."

  He tosses me the lollipop and makes for the door, and I set down my charcoal, flip the card open, and read:

  Thinking of you Always. Damen

  Thirty-Five

  I race through the door, anxious to get upstairs so I can show Riley my lollipop valentine, the one that made the sun shine, the birds sing, and turned my whole day around, even though I refuse to have anything to do with the sender.

  But when I see her sitting alone on the couch, seconds before she turns and sees me, something about the way she looks, so small and alone, reminds me of what Ava saidthat I've said good-bye to the wrong person. And the air rushes right out of me.

  "Hey," she says, grinning at me. "You can't believe what I just saw on Oprah. There's this dog who's missing his two front legs, and yet he can still-"

  I drop my bag on the floor and sit down beside her, grabbing the remote and pushing mute.

  "What's up?" she says, scowling at me for silencing Oprah. "What are you doing here?" I ask.

  "Um, hanging on the couch, waiting for you to come home… " She crosses her eyes and sticks out her tongue. "Duh."

  "No, I mean, why are you here? Why aren't you-someplace else?"

  She twists her mouth to the side and turns back to the TV, her body sti
ff, face immobile, preferring a silent Oprah to me.

  "Why aren't you with Mom and Dad and Buttercup?" I ask, watching as her bottom lip starts to quiver, at first only slightly, but soon, a full-blown tremble, making me feel so awful, I have to force the words to continue. "Riley." I pause, swallowing hard. "Riley, I don't think you should come here anymore."

  "You're evicting me?" She springs to her feet, eyes wide with outrage.

  "No, It's nothing like that, I just-"

  "You can't stop me from visiting, Ever! I can do anything I want! Anything! And there's nothing you can do about it!" she says, shaking her head and pacing the room.

  "I'm aware of that." I nod. "But I don't think I should encourage you either."

  She crosses her arms and mashes her lips together, then plops back down on the couch, kicking her leg back and forth like she does when she's mad, upset, frustrated, or all three.

  "It's just, well, for a while there it seemed like you were busy with something else, somewhere else, and you seemed perfectly happy and okay with it. But now it's like you're here all the time again and I'm wondering if it's because of me. Because even though I can't bear the thought of not having you around, it's more important for you to be happy. And spying on neighbors and celebrities, watching Oprah, and waiting for me, well, I don't think it's the best way to go." I stop, taking a deep breath, wishing I didn't have to continue, but knowing I do. "Because even though seeing you is the undisputed best part of my day, I can't help but think there's another-better-place for you to be."

  She stares at the TV as I stare at her, sitting in silence until she finally breaks it. "For your information, I am happy. I'm perfectly fine and happy, so there." She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, then crosses her arms against her chest.

  "Sometimes I live here, and sometimes I live somewhere else. In this place called Summerland, which is pretty dang awesome, in case you don't remember it." She sneaks a peek at me.

  I nod. Oh, I definitely remember it.

  She leans back against the cushions and crosses her legs. "So, best of both worlds, right? What's the problem?"

  I press my lips and look at her, refusing to be swayed by her arguments, trusting that I'm doing the right thing, the only thing. "The problem is, I think there's someplace even better. Someplace where Mom and Dad and Buttercup are waiting for you-"

  "Listen, Ever." She cuts me off. "I know you think I'm here because I wanted to be thirteen and since that didn't happen I'm living vicariously through you. And yeah, maybe that's partly true, but did you ever stop and think that maybe I'm here because I can't bear to leave you either?" She looks at me, her eyes blinking rapidly, but when I start to speak, she holds up her hand and continues. "At first I was following them, because, well, they're the parents and I thought I was supposed to, but when I saw how you stayed back, and I went to find you, but by the time I got there, you were already gone, I couldn't find the bridge again, and then, well, I got stuck. But then I met some people who've been there for years, well, the earth version of years, and they showed me around and-"

  "Riley-" I start, but she cuts me right off.

  "And just so you know; I have seen Mom and Dad and Buttercup, and they're fine.

  Actually, they're more than fine, they're happy. They just wish you'd stop feeling so guilty all the time.

  They can see you. You know that, right? You just can't see them. You can't seethe ones who crossed the bridge, you can only see the ones like me."

  But I don't care about the details of who I can and can't see.

  I'm still stuck on that part about them wanting me to stop feeling so guilty, even though I know they're just being all nice and parental, trying to ease my guilt. Because the truth is, the crash is my fault. If I hadn't made my dad turn back so I could go get that stupid Pinecone Lake Cheerleading Camp sweatshirt I'd forgotten, we never would've been in that spot, on that road, at the exact same time that some stupid confused deer ran right in front of our car, forcing my dad to swerve, fly down the ravine, crash into the tree, and kill everyone but me.

  My fault.

  All of it. Entirely mine.

  But Riley just shakes her head and says, "If it's anyone's fault, then it's Dad's fault, because everyone knows you're not supposed to swerve when an animal darts in front of your car. You're supposed to just hit it and keep going. But you and I both know he couldn't bear to do that, so he tried to save us all but ended up sparing the deer. But then again, maybe it's the deer's fault. I mean, he had no business being on the road when he has a perfectly good forest to live in. Or perhaps it's the guardrail's fault for not being stronger, firmer, made of tougher stuff. Or maybe it's the car company's fault for faulty steering and crappy brakes. Or maybe-" She stops and looks at me. "The point is, it's nobody's fault. That's just the way it happened. That's just the way it was supposed to be."

  I choke back a sob, wishing I could believe that, but I can't. I know better. I know the truth.

  "We all know it, and accept it. So now it's time for you to know it and accept it too.

  Apparently it just wasn't your time."

  But it was my time. Damen cheated, and I went along for the ride! I swallow hard and stare at the TV. Oprah is over and Dr. Phil has taken her place-one shiny baldhead and a very large mouth that never stops moving.

  "Remember when I was looking so filmy? That's because I was getting ready to cross over. Every day I crept closer and closer to the other side of the bridge. But just when I decided to go all the way, well, that's when it seemed like you needed me most. And I just couldn't bear to leave you-I still can't bear to leave you," she says.

  But even though I really want her to stay, I've already robbed her of one life. I won't rob her of the afterlife too. "Riley, it's time for you to go," I say, whispering so softly part of me is hoping she didn't actually hear it. But once it's out, I know it's the right thing to do, so I say it again, louder this time, the words ringing with resonance, conviction. "I think you should go," I repeat, hardly believing my own ears.

  She gets up from the couch, her eyes wide and sad, her cheeks shining with crystalline tears.

  And I swallow hard as I say, "You have no idea how much you've helped me. I don't know what I would've done without you. You're the only reason I got up each day and put one foot in front of the other. But I'm better now, and it's time for you-" I stop, choking on my own words, unable to continue.

  "Mom said you'd send me back eventually." She smiles. I look at her, wondering what that means.

  "She said, 'someday your sister will finally grow up and do the right thing.' "

  And the moment she says it, we both burst out laughing.

  Laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Laughing at our mom's penchant for saying, "Someday you'll grow up and-fill in the blank" Laughing to relieve some of the tension and pain of saying goodbye. Laughing because it feels so damn good to do so.

  And when the laughter dies down, I look at her and say, "You'll still check in and say hi, right?"

  She shakes her head and looks away. "I doubt you'll be able to see me, since you can't see Mom and Dad."

  "What about Summerland? Can I see you there?" I ask, thinking I can go back to Ava, have her show me how to remove the shield, but only to visit Riley in Summerland, not for anything else.

  She shrugs. "I'm not sure. But I'll do my best to send some kind of sign, something so you'll know I'm okay, something specifically from me."

  "Like what?" I ask, panicked to see her already fading. I didn't expect it to happen so quickly. 'Ind how will I know? How can I be sure it's from you?"

  "Trust me, you'll know;" She smiles, waving good-bye as she fades.

  Thirty-Six

  The moment Riley is gone, I break down and cry, knowing I did the right thing, but still wishing it didn't have to hurt so damn much. I stay like that for a while, curled up on the couch, my body folded into a small tight ball, remembering everything she said about the accident, and how it wasn't real
ly my fault. But even though I wish I could believe it, I know it's not true. Four lives were ended that day, and it's all because of me.

  All because of a stupid, powder blue, cheerleading camp sweatshirt.

  "I'll get you another one," my dad said, gazing into the rearview mirror; his eyes meeting mine, two matching sets of identical blues. "If I turn around no-w, we'll hit traffic. "

  "But it's my favorite," I whined. "The one I got at cheer camp. You can't buy it in a store. " I pouted, knowing I was mere seconds from gettingmyway.

  "You really want it that bad?"

  I nodded, smiling as he shook his head, took a deep breath, and turned the car around, meeting my gaze in the rearview mirror the same moment the deer ran onto the road.

  I wanted to believe Riley, to retrain my brain to this new way of thinking. But knowing the truth pretty much guaranteed I never would.

  And as I wipe the tears from my face; I remember Ava's words. Thinking if Riley was the right person to say good-bye to, then Damen must be the wrong one.

  I reach for the lollipop I'd placed on the table and gasp when I see it's morphed into a tulip.

  A big, huge, shiny; red tulip.

  Then I race for my room, pull my laptop onto my bed, and run a search on flower meanings, skimming down the page until I read:

  In the eighteen hundreds, people often communicated their intentions through the flowers they sent, as specific flowers held specific meanings. Here are a few of the more traditional ones:

  I scroll down the alphabetical list, my eyes scanning for tulips and holding my breath as I read:

  Then, just for fun, I look up white rosebuds and laugh out loud when I read:

  White rosebuds-The heart that knows no love; heart ignorant of love.

  And I know he was testing me. The whole entire time. Holding this huge lifechanging secret with absolutely no idea how to tell me, not knowing if I'd accept it, reject it, or turn him away.

  Flirting with Stacia just to get a reaction, so he could eavesdrop on my thoughts and see if I cared. And I'd become so adept at lying to myself, denying my feelings about practically everything, I ended up confusing us both.