Alyson Noël - Evermore

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, ill fated 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

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 said that 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 stiff, 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 see the 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.