For Ever, page 21
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she says thoughtfully. “He did kinda look that way before.”
Ashley half giggles, half shudders. When the bell rings, I hurry to my seat feeling worse than before. As the day progresses, I don’t feel any better. Worse, actually. At lunch, I can’t help staring at Ever’s table before joining my friends. It’s empty, of course. Marcus throws a grape at me as soon as I sit down.
“Ash says you’ve got a thing going on with Space Boy,” he says, making his eyes go blank.
“No, I didn’t!” she squeaks, tickling him in the ribs.
“Knew it! You rock!” Lindsay says, offering a high five.
I look down and start peeling my orange.
“We are not going out. And please stop calling him Space Boy,” I mutter under my breath.
“Then it was just a hookup?” Lindsay asks, her eyes widening in mock surprise. “Sullivan, I didn’t think you had it in you.”
I drop my head to the table and hide my eyes with my hands.
“Can you let me know when you guys are finished?”
“Guys, leave her alone,” Taylor says. “Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it.”
I raise my head and smile weakly at her.
“Well, none of us have scandalized the student body,” Lindsay says. “Yet!”
She leans over and plants a kiss on Zach, who turns bright red and starts grinning like he won the lottery.
“Uh, nobody look now, but … ,” Ashley says, her eyes wide.
On cue, everyone turns, and my stomach lurches in terror when I see what—who—Ashley’s referring to. No, no, no. This cannot be happening. But it is. Chasen is sitting at Ever’s table. Alone. His copper eyes burn through me before I can turn away.
So, that’s it, then? Ever sent a replacement minder to make sure I don’t fall off a cliff? Or worse … I wince at the possibility that Chasen is here for reasons of his own. To finish what Ever couldn’t do—and kill me?
“You want to go say hi to your new friend?” Lindsay says.
I’m still frozen when she nudges me.
“No, definitely not,” I mutter.
“Come on, he looks lonely.”
She laughs.
“Hey! Do any of you fools want to drive out to the coast on Sunday?” Josh asks, waving his hand. “We can hit Short Sands or Cannon. Who’s in?”
Zach begs out because of work, but the rest of us agree. The thought of revisiting the coast leaves me feeling uneasy. A little more than twenty-four hours ago I had been closer to Ever than I thought possible, and now I’m not sure if I can stand seeing those roiling gray waters again.
On Wednesday I get a ride to school with my mom, and when I get to Art, Ever’s empty seat remains a harsh reminder that he’s gone. And this time I know it’s my fault. In Chemistry, Jeff the quarterback is holding court with a few of his cronies at the front of the room. I pass them without looking. Even when a burst of snickering erupts behind me, I bite my tongue and keep walking. If there’s one rule I learned in junior high, giving them any attention will only feed the flames. And I would be the loser who cares what they think. I’m not about to give Jeff and his minions the satisfaction.
Lunchtime is an eerie repeat of the day before. Halfway through my sandwich, I look up and find Chasen staring stonily back at me like an absurdly beautiful gargoyle, here to keep the evil spirits at bay. Even worse is the fact that every time I blink, I see the image of Ever sitting in that exact same spot. I hate knowing that when I open my eyes he won’t be there.
By the end of sixth, an increasing pattern of wispy white clouds has replaced the sunlight from the day before. Patches of blue still remain, but this half-light makes me want to scream. I crave dramatic, angry clouds and pouring rain. I’m waiting at the bus stop with my hood up and my music playing way too loud, when a vehicle—not the bus—pulls up and blocks my view of the street. The sight of the dark SUV makes my jaw clench. I watch as the window slides down, revealing the lone occupant. When Chasen gestures to me, I grudgingly pull off my headphones.
“Get in,” he says. His tone is surprisingly cordial, despite the inherent bossiness of his command.
“Right. Because I’m that stupid.”
He smiles.
“He said you were stubborn.”
The bus just turned the corner and will get here in a few seconds. I stand up.
“You’re not going to incinerate me?” I mumble.
“I don’t think my compatriot would be very pleased with me if I did. He made that clear enough.”
As I walk toward the imposing vehicle, every bone in my body screams that this is a bad idea, but I can’t get myself to care any more. How could things get any worse? The door pops open without Chasen reaching for the handle. Trying to look cool and calm, I hoist myself into the passenger seat and slam the door behind me.
“Not much of a conservationist, are you?” I remark mildly.
“There are sources of energy other than your dead dinosaurs,” he smirks. “You humans just don’t bother looking very hard.”
This piques my interest, but I don’t have the time or the energy to worry about his cryptic comments right now. Instead, I get right to the point.
“What are you doing here?”
“Well, seeing as you mortals are so easily broken, Ever didn’t think you could make it an entire day without damaging yourself.”
“And you got sent to baby-sit?”
He looks over at me, this time less pleased. I enjoy my jibe for a second before remembering it’s not a good idea to push someone who might want me dead. I flinch when, from out of nowhere, Chasen produces a small, shiny silver box and leaves it on the console between us.
“He asked me to give you this.”
I stare down at my hand, willing it to pick up the box. There’s only one problem: I’m not sure I want to know what Ever left for me. My only source of solace is in the fact that the box looks too small to contain a lengthy good-bye note.
“It isn’t going to bite.”
Chasen’s sarcasm incinerates my indecision. I snatch up the box and flip open the lid. Studying the small, oblong pendant, I can’t tell whether it’s made from metal or stone. It’s beautiful and iridescent, its surface changing in the light. It reminds me of the shape that Ever had been bending magically across his fingers the day I first saw him outside, the one I had mistaken for a coin. It’s an infinity symbol—forever. My eyes begin to tear up, and I turn away. Chasen allows the rest of the ride to pass by in silence, and I’m grateful for that. When the SUV rolls to a stop, I see a darkly tinted version of my house.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“Any time.”
I glance over at him, and he doesn’t seem as scary as before. Not exactly friendly, but not as menacing. Jumping out, I slam the door behind me and hurry toward the front door feeling even more confused than I did fifteen minutes ago. Ever left a present for me? With Chasen of all possible candidates? And he asked Chasen—who has quite obviously objected to my presence from the moment he saw me—to watch me while Ever disappeared. To where exactly?
Or maybe Ever is just gone, I admit to myself. Forever. Or the rest of my lifetime at least. And there’s not much I can do about it if that is the case. I don’t think I could squeeze an answer out of Chasen if I tried, and it’s not going to help me to fixate on it. Still, I’ve never been one of those people who can shut out their obsessive thoughts. Eventually they always come back to roost like Edgar Allan Poe’s raven.
Upstairs in my room, I direct my energies toward homework with the knowledge that I could spend the next two hours on math and twenty minutes on each of the rest of my classes and still be hanging on by a fingernail in Algebra II. This thought annoys me more than usual. Why couldn’t I be a math genius like Cammy Wong, the girl in my AP U.S. History class at Pali who had already received her early admission letter from MIT?
When most of my homework is done, I head downstairs to look for dinner. The stillness of the house is pervasive with the exception of the clock on the mantle. Its ticking grates on me until I stomp into the living room to turn on some music. Returning to the kitchen feeling no less anxious, I search the refrigerator and then decide to boil water for pasta. While the pasta cooks, I slice tomatoes and tear some lettuce for a skimpy salad.
When I get back upstairs, I sit down in front of the computer and look up Short Sands and Cannon beaches, our potential destinations for Sunday. Both beaches look interesting, but I can’t summon a huge amount of enthusiasm. After cleaning the kitchen, I get back to my room and feel my eyes wander to the silver box sitting untouched on my desk. I reach for it before I lose my nerve.
Flipping open the lid, I touch its surface and see that the infinity shape is attached to a chain. A necklace. I clasp the chain behind my neck as I walk to the mirror. It’s very beautiful, like nothing I’ve seen before. But I feel guilty for putting it on, even though it’s the only connection to Ever that I have right now. Part of me knows it might be the last I’ll have. A memento. Going to the dresser, I grab a pair of pajamas, craving the oblivion of sleep. The only problem is I’m afraid of what I’ll find there.
Time passes by in slow motion, and it occurs to me that maybe it’s how time passed before I first saw Ever. This, I realize, is normal. Even Chasen has disappeared, having accomplished his task. On Thursday after school, I ride with Ashley to her house, where Lindsay and Taylor meet us. Within minutes of the three of us gathering in her room, Ashley has half the contents of her closet laid out on her bed.
“Black skirt, turquoise top,” Lindsay says with an air of authority. “Wait, hold them up. Never mind. Red V-neck maybe.”
By five o’clock, Ashley has tried on almost every possible combination of clothing at least twice. She’s chewing her lip and debating with a look of concentration that makes it appear like she’s trying to disarm a nuclear device. But I’m one to talk, having focused an unhealthy proportion of brainpower on Ever. This sends a sudden stab of uncertainty through me. Really, how could I be in love?
What was it I had first seen in Ever? His face. His appearance. Would I have looked twice if he had been less than perfect?
I think of Jeff Summers. I had found him more than a little attractive in the moments I had first seen him. Then I saw what was going on in his head. Would I still find that cretin attractive if I couldn’t hear his thoughts? With a sigh, I settle for being mildly superficial. Then, thinking it over a little more, I decide to cut myself a break. After all, I’m in good company, literarily anyway.
Romeo and Juliet? Romeo’s declaration of love for Juliet on the heels of his infatuation with Rosalyn was definitely fickle. And both his “true” loves were beautiful. Considering Romeo’s quick reversal of affection, I wonder: will I forget Ever, given enough time—or a good enough distraction? Better yet, does a good enough distraction exist? Because right now the thought of kissing someone else seems utterly unappealing. No, more like downright depressing.
“You guys want to grab dinner?” Ashley asks as she carefully lays out her final selection.
The rest of us nod, and after helping Ashley reassemble her closet, we decide on a place not far from school. It’s a chain, but the others claim it has great pizza. When we get there, I’m less confident. It’s in a strip mall, sandwiched between a vacuum retailer and another tanning salon. Inside, music is blaring from the speakers, and the walls are covered in knickknacks that look placed with exaggerated strategy—pages torn from comic books, relics of long-ago fads, paper plates with Barbie dolls pasted to them. We order our slices and pay for our drinks at the back register.
Fortunately the pizza makes a better impression on me than the ambiance, and I feel vindicated not having wasted my money on terrible pizza. We eat and listen to Ashley ramble nervously about her date. I feel a sudden swell of gratitude for my friends, and when Ashley worries aloud for the tenth time that Marcus is not going to like her outfit or is going to change his mind about her, I pinch her on the shoulder.
“But seriously, what if he just asked me to the dance because he thinks of us as friends?” she asks.
I shake my head and make my eyebrows do a little dance.
“No way. He totally has the hots for you.”
I can tell that much without even reading his thoughts.
“We’ve been friends since freshman year, though,” she continues. “What changed now?”
“Um, he finally got a clue?” I laugh.
Lindsay and Taylor giggle.
“Yeah, Josh, too,” Lindsay says, poking at Taylor, who blushes.
“Oh, come on.” I roll my eyes at Lindsay. “And how long did it take you to notice Zach?”
“I noticed him. I was just making him work for it.”
“Yeah, right,” I accuse, laughing. “You had no idea.”
“And what about you?” Lindsay teases. “Ever Casey finally wakes up out of his coma when you get here. Where’d he disappear to, by the way?”
My throat tightens, and I take a long sip of my Coke before shrugging.
“I don’t know.”
By Friday morning, I walk to my window and look outside with no expectations, which is a good thing. The street is empty—no black sedan, no SUV. Finally, the neighbors will stop thinking we’re being watched by federal agents or a drug cartel. Normally I would find some humor in this, but not today. I pad down the hallway to the bathroom to get ready, wincing at my reflection in the mirror. I look tired and out of sorts, and I hate that I feel considerably less enthusiasm for just about everything now that Ever is gone and probably not coming back.
On the way to the bus stop, my pulse jumps at the sight of someone walking in my direction. For a single second, I think it’s Ever. It’s not, of course, but my pulse is still hammering as I get closer to the figure. Suddenly my skin begins to crawl, and when a lone car turns the corner, I’m gripped by a sudden urge to jump in front of it. Instead, I keep walking, feeling silly. Until I figure out what’s setting my nerves on edge.
It’s his smile. Like he knows me or something.
I can see now that he’s about my age, maybe a few years older. With a spike of relief, I remember that there’s a community college less than half a mile from our house. He looks like he could be a college student, his copper hair standing on end like he just woke up. Despite the eerie smile, his features are very striking, beautiful even. And while they don’t look at all alike, the stranger’s appearance reminds me of Ever. Or maybe it’s just his height. He’s much taller than I am. When I’m still several feet away from him, I stop, feeling like a deer that has just caught the scent of a predator.
His eyes are coal black. As I take a step back, his smile widens.
“Hello, Wren. I’ve been waiting a long time for you,” he says in a friendly tone.
Shaking my head, I try to convince myself that I didn’t hear him right. He keeps walking toward me, and I fall back, landing hard on my backpack. With the wind still knocked out of me, I scramble backwards and gulp for air to scream. My mind races in circles. I don’t have my pepper spray, and I’m not sure it would help me if I did have it.
I don’t think he’s human.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
He stops and looks past me, his smile fading instantly. But the voice from behind me causes me to melt in relief. Ever.
A hand grasps me from behind and pulls me up. Still dazed, I realize that I’m staring at Ever’s back. He’s between the stranger and me. The stranger who is now laughing—at what, I can’t figure out.
“We have unfinished business, you and I,” he says cheerfully to Ever. “I could have done without the others, but this one … I do like the look of her. But then, I suppose you did, too.”
Ever reaches back and takes my hand, pulling me in the direction that I came from. But my limbs are still stiff with fear, which hinders his progress. Finally he wraps an arm around my shoulders, and some of the fear drains out of me. It takes several more steps before I remember that I was on my way to school. As we turn the corner, I look back, but there’s no one there. I look to Ever, not knowing whether to be angry, relieved, or terrified. I settle for relieved and a little terrified.
“I’m sorry, Wren,” he says.
“He wasn’t … human,” I gasp.
He doesn’t say anything, and I follow him numbly for another block. When he stops, I stare at his car, which is parked only two blocks from my house.
“You’ve been here the whole time?” I sputter.
He opens the passenger-side door, waiting for me to get in, and as soon as he appears in the driver’s seat, I turn to face him.
“No.”
“But your car—”
“I left it here in the event I returned.”
I shake my head, trying to contend with both developments: the crazy stranger with the dead eyes, and the fact that Ever truly might have been planning to never return. With a jolt of fear, it dawns on me that he might just disappear again at any second. I summon a scrap of willpower and focus on the immediate danger.
“All right, what just happened?”
“His name is Iago.”
“Shakespeare. Seriously?” Then, reality catches up with me—how did Ever know the stranger’s name? “Whoa! Hold on! You knew him?”
Ever nods.
“He was one of them?” I ask numbly.
A demon, evil spirit, incorporeal being from another dimension.
“No. He is like us.”
“I don’t understand. Like you? Correct me if I’m wrong, but wouldn’t that make him one of the good guys?”
I frown. From a human perspective, I’m not sure Ever would qualify as a “good guy.”
“He’s a traitor.”
As Ever’s fists flex on the steering wheel, my thoughts begin streaming a mile-a-minute all over again.
“Iago,” I mutter. The traitor from Othello. More specifically, the one ultimately responsible for getting Desdemona killed. “So? If he’s like you, then what does he want with me?”
“There are only a few, if any, left whose minds can bear indefinite possession. And those who can have become a valuable commodity. I expected it would take longer for them to find you.”
