Elizabeth Miles - Eternity

“What are you doing, man?” Crow argued. “It’s early. I’m not even that drunk.”

“You can’t kick him out,” Em said, chasing after them. “He’s in no shape to drive.”

“You’re right, he isn’t,” came the bouncer’s surly reply, “but he sure as hell can’t stay here.”

“Asshole,” Crow muttered. The doors burst open and Em was relieved by the crisp air.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked.

“He started it,” Crow said pointing in the direction of the Armory. He got out a final round of expletives, then repeated: “I’m not even that drunk.”

“You are that drunk.”

They stood in silence. Crow looked up at the sky. He interlaced his fingers behind his head so his arms splayed out like wings. It was cool enough that Em could just barely make out his breath in the air. “Fine, I am drunk.”

“Good. We’re in agreement. Now give me your keys,” she said, holding out her hand.

“You know how to drive stick?” he asked aggressively. “I don’t want you bottoming out on the Ridge.”

She didn’t. Dammit. Why hadn’t she taken JD up on those lessons this summer? “Crow . . . I . . . ”

“You don’t,” he said smugly. He grabbed the keys out of her hand.

She still wasn’t going to let him drive, manual transmission or no. “Well, then, I guess you’ll have to call someone to pick you up.” Em went for the keys, which he held up high and just out of her reach. “I’m not letting you get behind the wheel like this,” she said jumping for them.

His eyes narrowed. “You can’t tell me what to do,” he said. “You can’t tell me you don’t want me and then tell me how to act.”

Em stopped jumping. The words stung. They were standing so close she thought he might try to kiss her again. But instead he turned and started stalking across the parking lot in the other direction. “Crow!” she called after him. “Stop! You can’t drive!”

“I feel like they’re poisoning me.” Crow wheeled around and his voice broke into the quiet. He threw the keys at her feet and winced, like he had a sudden headache. “The visions . . . I want them to stop. It’s like blackness inside me.”

A car came around the bend and waited for them to get out of the way. Illuminated by the bright white glow of the headlights, Crow looked almost otherworldly. “I want to help you, Em,” he said, “but I think I’m going to get hurt if I do.”  Then he ran off into the night, leaving Em with his keys on the ground in front of her.

“Yup, you’re totally becoming one,” Melissa said, standing in the doorway to JD’s room and pulling her strawberry-blond hair back with a headband.

“Huh?” he asked. He’d been in another world, thinking about Em, and specifically of that book on her nightstand and wondering if he should ask her about it. He didn’t even know how long Melissa had been standing there.

“See? Case in point,” Melissa said, putting her arms out straight in front of her and staggering theatrically around his room. “I said, you’re totally becoming a zombie. You need a life.”

“A liiiiiiife ,” he said, sounding the word out for effect. “How does one procure such a thing? Teach me, oh social one. Does it involve faking injuries to make friends?”

“I was not faking it,” Melissa said. “I really twisted my ankle and you know it. It was pure serendipity that Ali and I met. Speaking of which, I need a ride to Pete’s. Ali invited me for pizza.”

“Didn’t she leave, like, two hours ago?” JD said. “You’re a little too young for an exclusive relationship.”

She chucked a pillow at his head. “I texted to thank her again. And she invited me.”

He swiveled back toward his computer. “Tempting, but no. First of all, I have homework to do. Second, I’m not— not —a chauffeur.” Even saying the word—Gabby and Em’s old nickname for him—made anger spark inside of him. He pushed it aside. “And last, there’s pasta on the stove. Why are you going for pizza?”

“Let’s start with the last one first,” she said. “I’m going for pizza because I’d love to get out of the house. Even zombies need to socialize, you know.” She plucked a hat off his bed and chucked it at him.

He didn’t want to admit that she was right.

“And I know you’re not a chauffeur,” she added. “You were invited.” She smiled brightly at him.

JD tried to keep his voice neutral, but he knew he’d already given in. “By whom?” he asked.

“By Ali, silly,” Melissa said. “She said she wants you to meet her cousin later or something. So let’s go already.”

When they arrived at Pete’s Pizza, Ali was already waiting for them in a red vinyl booth. Her skin shone flawlessly under the reddish lights of the restaurant. She had on a low-cut turquoise tank top, despite the fact that it wasn’t exactly beach weather. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and again he had no trouble picturing her rolling around in a bikini on the beach with cameras flashing. Everything about her was perky and oddly—almost eerily—perfect.

“Hey guys,” she said, smiling.

“Thanks for the invite,” he said as he scooted into the booth, trying not to stare too long into Ali’s ice-blue eyes. He tugged off his peacoat and adjusted the collar of his cable-knit fisherman’s sweater, hoping he looked at least semi–put together.

“I ordered a large pepperoni with mozzarella sticks on the side,” she said once they’d settled in. “Hope that’s okay.”

“Perfect, I was actually praying for a heart attack tonight,” JD said, grinning but making a mental note: Someone likes to be in charge.

“Well, luckily you have a nurse nearby if it happens,” Ali responded. “Speaking of which, Mel, how’s your ankle?”

“A little better than it was,” she said. “I’ve been icing it like you said to.”

“And making me run back and forth getting things for her,” JD interjected.

Mel glared at him while Ali laughed. “I bet I’ll have to sit out of practice for a while, though. . . . ”

JD tuned out while his sister chatted, letting his gaze fall unfocused on the windows and the parking lot outside. He bent his head to one shoulder and then to the other, listening for the snapping cracks at the base of his neck. He did that sometimes when he was stressed, despite the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Winters both told him it was bad for his posture or something.

Em. He thought of how much she loved Pete’s Pizza, especially her favorite combo of pepperoni and pineapple. He was halfway through his second set of cracks when he took in a sharp breath: As though he’d conjured her, Em Winters was coming through the door of the restaurant.

“Oh, good,” Ali said just as JD was about to call Em’s name. “Ty’s here!” She waved to the newcomer and patted the bench next to where she was sitting.

As the girl came closer, JD could see it wasn’t Em after all. Her cheekbones were wider and her eyes were green and catlike, nothing like Em’s, which were big and brown and varied in darkness according to her mood. (They got lighter, weirdly, when she was angry; dark and chocolate brown when she was relaxed.) This girl didn’t have the single freckle above her left eye.

But otherwise, Ali was right: Ty and Em were total doppelgängers.

“This is the cousin I was talking about earlier,” Ali said, introducing JD to Ty, who stuck out her hand for him to shake, which made him feel awkward. Maybe she was older? He was surprised at the firmness of her grip.

“Nice to meet you,” he said.

“The famous JD,” she responded, as though she’d been hearing about him for ages, which didn’t really make sense since he’d only met Ali today. She spoke with a casual drawl, as if she was from the South or someplace where time moved more slowly. “Meg is going to be jealous!”