Элисон Ноэль - Blue Moon

"Forget it," he says, getting up to leave. "But I'm serious, Ever. You need to decide what you want pretty soon, because this ..."

I gaze at him, wondering if he'll finish the sentence and wondering why I can't seem to care either way.

But he just looks at me and shakes his head, grabbing his keys as he says, "Whatever. Have fun at the lake."

I watch as the door closes behind him, then I move to my dad's recliner, grab the afghan my grandma knit for us not long before she died, and pull it up to my chin and tuck it under my feet. Remembering how just last week I was telling Rachel I was seriously considering going all the way with Brandon, and now —now I can barely stand for him to touch me.

"Ever?"

I open my eyes. Riley's standing before me, her bottom lip trembling, her blue eyes on mine.

"Is he gone?" She glances around the room.

I nod.

"Will you come sit with me, while I try to fall asleep?" she asks, biting down on her lip, giving me that sad puppy dog look that's impossible to resist.

"I told you that show was too scary for you," I say, my hand on her shoulder as we head down the hall, getting her all tucked and settled before arranging myself right around her. Wishing her the sweetest of dreams and smoothing her hair off her face as I whisper, "Don't worry. Go to sleep. There's no such tiling as ghosts."

CHAPTER 47

"Ever, you ready? We need to leave soon! We don't want to hit traffic!"

"Coming!" I shout, even though I'm not. I just continue to stand there, right smack in the middle of my room staring at a crumpled piece of paper I'd found in the front pocket of my jeans. And even though it's written in my hand, I've no idea how it got there, much less what it means. Reading:

I. Don't go back for the sweatshirt!

2. Don't trust Drina!

3. Don't go back for the sweatshirt no matter what!

4. Damen And by the fifth time I read it, I'm still just as confused as the first. I mean, what sweatshirt? And why am I not supposed to go back for it? Not to mention, do I even know a Drina? And who the heck is Damen, and why is there a heart by his name?

I mean, why did I ever write such a thing? When did I ever write such a thing? And what could it possibly mean?

And when my dad calls again, followed by the sound of his footsteps storming up the stairs, I toss the paper aside, watching it land on my dresser before falling to the floor, figuring I'll sort it all out when we return.

As it turns out, the weekend was good for me. Good to get away from my school, good to get away from my friends (and boyfriend). Good to spend time with my family in a way that we don't get to do all that often. In fact, I feel so much better now, that as soon as we get back to civilization, back to where my cell can access a signal —I'm going to text Brandon. I don't want to leave things the way we had. And I really believe that whatever weird thing I was going through is now past.

I grab my backpack and toss it over my shoulder, ready to leave. But as I glance around our campsite one last time, I can't shake the feeling that I've left something behind. Even though my bag is packed and everything appears to be clear, I continue to stand there, my mom calling my name over and over, until she finally gives up and sends Riley.

"Hey," she says, pulling hard on my sleeve. "C'mon, everyone's waiting."

"In a minute," I mumble. "I just have to —"

"Have to what?" She smirks. "You have to stare at the smoldering embers for another hour or two?

Seriously, Ever, what's your deal?"

I shrug, toying with the clasp on my bracelet, having no idea what my deal is, but unable to shake the feeling that something is wrong. Well, maybe not wrong exactly, more like missing or undone. Like there's something I'm supposed to be doing that I'm not. And I just can't decide what it is.

"Seriously. Mom wants you to hurry, Dad's worried about hitting traffic, even Buttercup wants you to get it together so he can stick his head out the window and let his ears flap in the breeze. Oh, and I'd kind of like to get home before all the good shows are over.

So, what do you say we move it, okay?"

But when I don't move it, when I don't do much of anything, she sighs and says, "You forget something?

Is that it?" Eyeballing me carefully before glancing over her shoulder toward our parents.

"Maybe." I shake my head. "I'm not sure."

"You got your backpack?"

I nod.

"You got your cell phone?"

I tap my backpack.

"You got your brain?"

I laugh, knowing I'm acting strange and ridiculous and freaky as hell, but then after the last few days you'd think I'd be used to it by now.

"You got your sky-blue Pinecone Lake Cheerleading Camp sweatshirt?" She smiles.

"That's it!" I say, my heart beating frantically. "I l eft it by the lake! Tell Mom and Dad I'll be right back!"

But just as I turn, Riley grabs hold of my sleeve and pulls me right back. "Chillax." She smiles. "Dad found it and tossed it in the backseat. Seriously. So can we go now?"

I glance around the campsite one last time, then follow Riley to the car. Settling into the back as my dad pulls onto the road and a muffled chime comes from my phone. And I've barely dug it out of my bag, barely even had a chance to read it, before Riley's peering over my shoulder, trying to peek. Forcing me to turn so abruptly, Buttercup shifts, shooting me a look that lets me know she's not happy. But even after all that, Riley still tries to see. So I roll my eyes and do what I always do, I whine, "Mom!"

Watching as she flips a page in her magazine without missing a beat, automatically saying, "Stop it you two."

"You didn't even look!" I say. " I wasn't doing anything! Riley won't leave me alone."

"That's because she loves you," my dad says, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror. "She loves you so much she wants to be around you all of the time —she just can't get enough of you!"

Words that send Riley clear to the other side of the car, pressing her body against the door as she shouts, "Gag!" Then swinging her legs to her side as far as she can, upsetting poor Buttercup all over again. Shivering dramatically, as though the thought is just way too disgusting to bear, as my dad catches my eye and both of us laugh.

I flip my phone open, reading the message from Brandon that says: Sorry. My bad. Call me 2nite. And I immediately respond with a smiley face, hoping that'll tide us over until I can work up enough emotion to send something more. And I've just leaned my head against the window and am about to close my eyes when Riley turns to me and says, "You can't go back, Ever. You can't change the past. It just is. " I squint, having no idea what she's talking about. But just as I start to ask, she shakes her head and says, "This is our destiny. Not yours. Did you ever stop and think that maybe you were supposed to survive? That maybe, it wasn't just Damen who saved you?"

I stare at her, my mouth hanging open, trying to make sense of her words. And when I glance around the car, wondering if my parents heard too, I see that everything is frozen. My dad's hands are stuck on the steering wheel, his unblinking eyes staring straight ahead, while the page of my mom's magazine is stuck in midflip, and Buttercup's tail is caught at half-mast. Even when I gaze out the window, I notice how all the birds are caught in midflight, while the other motorists are paused all around us. And when I look at Riley again, her intense gaze on mine as she leans toward me, it's clear we're the only ones moving. "You have to go back," she says, her voice confident, firm. "You have to find Damen —before it's too late." "Too late for what I cry, leaning toward her, desperate to understand. "And who the heck is Damen? Why are you saying that name? What does it even mean—"