His lips stretch into this beautiful smile when he looks at me and I respond in kind. Oh my God, what is happening between us?
“I wanted to make sure you’d be at the cemetery today,” he says.
I rest my shoulder against the wall and he angles his body so that he’s a mirror of me. He’s close enough that the heat from his body is creating a bubble for us, and if I did do the whole fantasy thing I’d be dreaming of him touching me. But I’m Stella and he’s Jonah and I don’t believe in fairy tales.
Inhaling, I smell freshly cut grass and my stomach sinks. I love the smell, but it means he’s been to the cemetery again—this morning. Sure enough, his sneakers are darkened with dew and a few stray pieces of green grass rest over his laces. “Jonah, this has got to stop.”
Jonah
I went to the cemetery again and Stella knows it. When James died, I promised myself that I’d only go once, but then I went again and I just kept going. Then I met Stella. She’s helped...a lot. She helps me forget, but then I woke up this morning to find a note from my parents stating that they rescheduled with the reporter. All the chaos I thought was slipping away has returned.
Stella’s head falls back in disappointment and I hate that I’ve somehow let her down. “This is not healthy.”
“Healthy?” Not what I was expecting. “You don’t know anyone at the cemetery and yet you hang out there like it’s the mall. Out of the two of us, I’d say you’re the one with the bigger problems.”
She arches her back like a pissed off cat and her eyes harden. Crap. Not what I intended to do.
“Guess I’m a freak, right?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh, it is.” She’s referring to Cooper and how he’s cracked snide comments here and there, particularly when she passes our table at lunch. Without a doubt it’s my fault. Cooper’s noticed my fascination with Stella and he’s asked repeatedly and loudly why I’m interested in the freak.
She turns her back to me and I grow desperate. Stella’s the lone person I’ve been able to talk to, to be with, and through our time together, she’s becoming more and I like more. “Stella, wait.”
But she doesn’t.
I have to give her something. Something I’ve never given anyone. “Stella...I visit James Cohen because...because it’s my fault he died.”
She pauses and I count my heartbeats until she slowly pivots to face me.
“James Cohen died in a crossover car accident,” she says.
“I thought you didn’t know anything about it.”
“I didn’t, but sue me for being curious. I looked it up online. A car lost control. Went over the median. He died. It’s very tragic, but what I don’t get is why he matters to you.”
Slack-mouthed, I stare at her. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”
“I figured you’d tell me what happened when you were ready.”
When I was ready...but am I? I try to take in air, but my lungs constrict. “I was there. I watched it happen.”
I was two car lengths behind him. He switched into the fast lane of the expressway and so did I to avoid trash and then it happened. No warning. No advance notification. A semi barreled over the grassy strip and hammered the car in front of me.
My eyes dart everywhere, seeing the floor, the school’s painted cement wall, but all my mind captures is the way the glass in the back window of James Cohen’s car fractured like millions of spider webs. The deafening sound of the impact. The way my heart squeezed past my throat. The way my muscles locked as I slammed on the brakes and the desperate prayer I would survive.
God answered my prayer but not James Cohen’s.
My breaths get shaky and I blink as my eyes burn. I haven’t cried yet. Mom said I should cry.
Stella’s careful with her steps toward me. Those gray eyes have softened, but I spot worry in them. “You aren’t related to him?”
I shake my head, the panic inside of me halting my ability to speak.
“You didn’t know him before the accident?”
Another shake and I stare at the brown-speckled linoleum floor.