11
I don’t take my pilland I don’t go to bed. Instead I take the game outside, where the whispers can’t reach me. I sit on the patio in the moonlight and spread the Truth or Dare cards on the stone table and read them one by one, discarding each one back into the box after I’ve read both sides. The patio and table are probably the only parts of the original house that didn’t have to be replaced. They’re all stone, with a fire pit on one end and a cute little rock wall lining the path down to the dock. Looking at the cards spread on the table in the moonlight reminds me of Emily. Her mother does tarot readings at the mall. Emily did them too, just for us, but she didn’t have “the sight.” According to her mother, anyway. Mrs. Joiner used to say I was an old soul and all old souls could see a little if they opened their minds.
When I told my parents that, they told me not to accept any special teas or baked goods from Mrs. Joiner. In hindsight, I find that both hilarious and sad. Emily and Ryan were always embarrassed that their mother was the mall psychic lady. I think it’s kind of neat. My father is a grief counselor and my mother is the office administrative assistant, so everyone hates and fears them.
Anyway. Emily couldn’t have thought the cards wereactually bullshit, because she read them too. Maybe she was just pissed that her mom thought I had the sight and she didn’t. And maybe her mom was just pissed that Emily was embarrassed of her.
I read every single Truth or Dare card and can’t find the suspect ones from our game. I sigh, frustrated. None of this makes sense. In the distance, I can hear the sound of tiny intermittent splashes, little plunks of water, and I crane my neck and gaze out toward the dock. A dark figure is silhouetted against the bright moonlit water.Splish.Ryan is attempting to skip stones. A faint smile touches my lips. He never could quite get it. The momentum. They always start so promising and then sink. I leave the game on the table and kick my sandals off, then head down the boardwalk leading to the dock. I like the feeling of the cool, damp wooden planks beneath my bare feet. It’s old wood, uneven, dangerous. Full of splinters. Another unapologetic fire survivor.
Ryan turns around, his face flushing. “Hello again,” he says with his endearing nervous smile.
“Brain still buzzing?”
“Endlessly.”
I take the round stone and hand him a smooth, flat one. “Try this one.”
He rears back his arm and hurls my stone. It goes straight under with a loudplop. “Do you think some people are just fated to sink? Like sad little humanTitanics.”
“TheTitanicwasn’t fated to sink. Icebergs are dangerous and people are careless.” I sit at the edge of the dock and dangle my legs over the edge, kicking at the dark water.
“I’m glad you came out here.” He eases himself down next to me and takes my hand almost absently, and I instantly feel guilty even though I shouldn’t. Kennedy and I aren’t together anymore, and it’s a friendly gesture, nothing more. But there’s something that unnerves me about the way our palms fit together, an unsettling urge to never let go. I never wanted to feel a thing for anyone in the world except Kennedy Ellis Hartford. And I don’t now. But the feeling of Ryan’s hand in mine, his warm skin, draws a deep, aching sadness from within me. It’s been the longest year. I miss my friend. “I wanted to tell you something,” he says softly.
I turn away so he won’t see my face flush. I badly don’t want to have this conversation. I know how he feels. It would be a terrible idea to bring it all back to the surface.
But he doesn’t say that at all. What he says is, “I believe you.”
I look up at him. “You do?”
“About Emily?” He nods. “People we love don’t disappear. They stay with us.” He looks up at the sky. “Think how lonely it would be if they just vanished.”
“But the others—”
“I think they’re too afraid. I was, at first. Fear makes people lie, even to themselves.”
“What if it’s just us? What if they can’t hear her?”
He chews his lip. “You mean the sight? That shit my mom used to talk about? I wouldn’t stress that. She was a phony. I think anyone who wants to see, can.” He stares down at the water and I kick at it. A sudden hint of bitterness has crept into his voice. He bumps his forehead against mine and rests it there,and I feel the warmth of his skin, the closeness of him, the cloud of his breath at the edge of my lips. I close my eyes, my cheeks warm.I have no reason to feel guilty. If Kennedy wanted to be sitting next to me right now, she would be. She would have stood up for me when I heard Emily calling. That’s the thing about Ryan. I never question myself when he’s around. I know no onemeansto make me question myself. But I do.
“That’s actually the real reason you haven’t heard from me this year.”
“How so?” I draw back and study his expression.
“What I said about people not being gone? That was the result of a year of… for lack of a better word, haunting.” He looks at me nervously.
“Haunting?” I glance back at the house. All of the lights are off; everyone is sleeping peacefully.
“I thought it was in my head, that it was wishful thinking.” He stares at me intently. “But it was Emily.Isher. Sometimes it’s just a voice, or a feeling.”
“Why didn’t you call me when all this was happening?”
“Believe me, I wanted to. But I thought it couldn’t possibly be real, and it was the last thing you needed to worry about. Honestly, part of me wanted you to tell me itwasall in my head. But then at the house, you heard her too, and I knew.” He falls silent.
“Because it can’t be your mind playing tricks on you if it’s intwoheads.” I hug my knees to my chest, and he puts an arm around my shoulder.
“Let’s say it’s not. What did you think of that card from the game?”
“Which one?”