Ashes to Ashes (6 page)

I push myself up onto my knees. How long has it been since I was sitting on top of the lighthouse? An hour? A day? A year?

I crawl on the floor over to the wall and sit with my back up against it.

This room was once full of my things. A closet packed with dresses and skirts, sweaters and shoes. A bookshelf lined with paperbacks. I had school notebooks and pencils and homework.
A quilt on my bed. Pretty trinkets I arranged on my dresser just so when I moved back to Jar Island.

It looked like the bedroom of any teenage girl.

Except now I see the truth. The empty closet. The bare bookshelf. A stripped mattress without pillows or sheets.

I used to think that this was the room I lived in. But it's not.

It's the room I died in.

It kills me all over again, thinking back to how knowing the truth weighed on Aunt Bette. I basically drove her crazy. Her dead niece, haunting her house. Except I didn't know that was what I was doing. I really, truly believed that I lived through my suicide attempt. I thought I was alive.

I look down at myself, at the clothes I'm wearing. I'm the Mary I should be, seventeen, in a navy-blue sweater and a pair of jeans. Thin. But how? How did I fill this room up, my life up, with things that don't actually exist?

I close my eyes, concentrate hard, and try to put my things back in my room the way they were before New Year's Eve. The quilt, the clothes in my closet, my pink terry-cloth robe. I envision everything in my mind. I need something back. One little thing. A stuffed animal. One of my old books. I can't exist like this.

When I open my eyes, the room is still empty and dark.

And I swear I feel my heart break.

I get up and walk out of my room, down the hall, and linger in the doorway of Aunt Bette's room. It's total chaos from when my mom came and took her away. The floor is covered with her collection of those old occult books.

I remember the fight we had, after I found out she was doing those weird spells on me. Burning those herb bundles in teacups, making string webs on our shared wall, trying to trap me in my room. She was afraid of me, of what I might do. She knew I was the one who'd caused that fire at homecoming, even though I didn't.

I take a step inside, then a second, then a third. I hold my hand over a red cloth book teetering at the top of the stack closest to me, and wiggle my fingers. It flips opens to a random page. I used to think I had special powers, that I could move things with my mind. I was kind of right about that, I guess.

Some spirits are prone to unrest. Often they stay close to this world to resolve things they left unfinished.

Yes. Yes! That's it. Exactly.

I flip to another page.

Under no circumstances should one ever inform a spirit that they are, in fact, deceased. It is better for them to
remain ignorant of their plight and ignorant regarding the extent of their capabilities, which they will almost certainly use maliciously.

I stare down at the word “maliciously.” It scares me. What I could be capable of. But these books are my only hope. And that's so much better than feeling hopeless.

A
SH MEETS ME BY MY
locker after school and says, “Derek and PJ were talking about going to the basketball game tonight.”

“We're playing off island, right?” Ash nods. I don't like basketball, and I don't think our team is very good, but the idea of getting away from Jar Island for the night sounds like a plan to me. There's just one thing keeping me from saying yes. “What are the other guys doing?”

“Alex has some school project thing he's working on. And Reeve's doing something with his brothers. So it'll just be us four,
and we can fit into one car that way. I'll pick you up at six.”

“Okay. Great.”

*  *  *

Ash is late, as always. I'm outside on the curb waiting for her. Just for fun I put on a Jar Island varsity sweatshirt and tied my hair up in one of my cheerleader ribbons. When she arrives, almost twenty minutes late, I climb into the front seat. We pick up Derek next, and then PJ.

I expect Ash is going to head straight to the ferry, since the next one leaves in a few minutes, but instead she makes a left and speeds toward T-Town.

“Derek,” Ash says, rolling through a stop sign. “Text Reeve and tell him to be outside in five minutes. If he's not there, we're leaving without him.”

I lean forward. “What? I thought you said he wasn't coming.” If I'd known Reeve was coming, there's no way I would have said yes.

“I guess he changed his mind,” Ash says with a shrug.

I pray that Reeve isn't outside, that we will leave without him, but he's sitting on his front stairs as we pull up. I flip down the visor and touch up my lipstick so I don't have to make eye contact with him.

As soon as we get to the other high school's gym, I say that I have to go to the bathroom just so I can make sure that we
don't end up sitting next to each other on the bleachers. On my way back I see two girls standing with Reeve at the bottom of the stands. I can tell he's not interested in talking to them, because he keeps looking over their shoulders. But I still feel a pang of jealousy as I walk by, until I hear one of them mention the Montessori school.

Oh God. What if it somehow gets back to Mary that I'm here with Reeve?

I push the thought away. I don't even know where Mary is. And I don't think she keeps in touch with any of the Montessori kids from back in the day. I climb the bleachers, take a seat between PJ and Derek, and keep really focused on the basketball game, even though it's insanely boring.

After the game everybody starts piling into Ash's car, and I immediately go for the front seat again, but Derek shakes his head at me. “No way, Lil. You're the smallest one here. You don't get shotgun again.”

“Derek!” I protest. He
is
tall, though—like, basketball-player tall. Ash has to get on her tippy-toes to kiss him. “Come on. Be a gentleman!”

“Backseat, baby,” he says, pulling the seat forward so I can climb in. Reeve and PJ are crammed into the back, and there's barely room for the two of them, much less me.

My eyes meet Reeve's. “But . . . there's no room.”

Reeve tips his head back against the seat. Looking straight ahead, he says, “Cho, just get in. We're going to miss the ferry home.”

“You can sit in Reeve's lap,” Ash advises me. “Or stretch out on top.”

This is basically the opposite of what Kat told me to do. Reluctantly I climb in between the boys. I perch as lightly as I can, half on Reeve's thigh and half on PJ's. PJ doesn't move—he's looking at his phone—but Reeve shifts as far away from me as he can and holds on to the handle above the window. “You can scoot back a little,” he says, his voice gruff.

“I'm fine,” I say. To Ashlin I say, “Let's go.”

Ash starts the car, and we zoom out of the high school's parking lot. Ash is always speeding. She's gotten, like, a million speeding tickets in just the one year she's been driving. The car is quiet except for Ash and Derek talking to each other in low voices. Suddenly the light turns red, Ash slams on the brakes, and I start to fly forward, but Reeve grabs me by the waist with both arms.

“Ugh, why do they have a stoplight on this road anyway?” Ash complains.

My heart's pounding in my chest. Even though he doesn't have to, Reeve's still holding on to me tight, and just for a second I feel him sigh and fall his forehead against my back, but
then, abruptly, his arms drop away from me. I think I can hear his heart beating fast too.

After the ferry ride back to Jar Island, Ashlin drops me off first. My mom's light is off, and Nadia's in her room doing her homework. I stop in to say good night, and we talk for a few minutes. I don't even know what we're talking about, because all I'm doing is thinking about him. And then Kat's voice is in my head, telling me to
shut it the eff down. This will only lead to trouble.
She's right. I know she is.

I go through my nighttime routine of a bath, drying my hair just a little bit and then brushing it. I put on my big Harvard sweatshirt and thick socks and get into bed, and then I just lie there in the dark for what feels like forever.

And before I can talk myself out of it, before I can go through all the reasons why not, I'm crawling out of bed. I'm fumbling around for my leggings and my bra and my big puffy coat. I'm stuffing my keys and my phone inside the pocket, and then I'm creeping out into the hallway. It's dark; everyone's asleep. I crack open Nadia's door just to make sure, and she is.

Then I'm tiptoeing down the stairs, creeping out the back door, and running fast to my car. I don't turn on the headlights until I'm out of the cul-de-sac. I don't know what I'm doing. He might not even be awake. This is crazy.

As I drive, I keep thinking I should turn back around. I keep thinking it, and yet I don't do it.

All the lights are off at Reeve's house except for in his room. I pull out my phone and text him, my hands shaking.

Are you awake?

He writes back instantly.
Yeah.

I'm outside.

Reeve's face appears in the window, and then it's gone. I get out of the car and wait for him, shivering. I don't have to wait long. He's out the front door and running toward me in sweats, no coat.

“What's wrong?” he pants. “Did something happen?”

I shake my head.

His brow furrows. “Then why—why are you here?”

“I don't know.” I lift my shoulders and drop them. “I guess . . . I just wanted to see you.” Reeve is staring at me with a bewildered look on his face, and I feel my cheeks get hot. I turn away from him and back toward my car. “I shouldn't have come.”

Reeve grabs my arm. “Wait,” he says, and I spin back around, and before I can tell myself not to, I pull his face toward mine and I'm kissing him. He hesitates for a split second, and then he's kissing me back, and I feel a jolt inside me. I lean back against the car, and I pull him with me. I can see
the puffs our breaths make in the cold night air.

“I miss you,” I whisper between kisses. Then I look up at him, and my pulse quickens as I wait for him to answer.

A cocky smile spreads across his face. “Course you do. You can't get enough of me.”

I stiffen. I come over here in the middle of the night against my better judgment, and he's joking around like it's nothing? Is everything a joke to him? I stand up straight and try to push him away, but he doesn't let me. His voice gets serious as he says, “I miss you, too. You know I do. I . . . I just don't know how to act. Everything's so fucked up.”

I sigh. “I wish . . .” I stop, and Reeve pushes my hair out of my eyes.

“Your hair's wet.”

“I just had a bath,” I say, and he nods.

“What were you going to say?” he asks me. “What do you wish?”

“I wish it didn't have to be like this. It's so . . . complicated.” More than Reeve even knows. “We haven't talked about Rennie once.”

He looks down at the ground. “I don't want to talk about Rennie right now.”

I'm about to say,
If not now, then when?
It's already been two weeks since she died, and I think maybe we'd both feel
better if we talked about her. But Reeve leans in close to me and nuzzles his face against mine. “Why is your skin so soft?” His breath tickles my cheek.

I laugh, for what feels like the first time in forever. “I don't know, because I'm a girl? All girls are soft.”

He kisses my cheek. “No, you're different. You have the softest skin of any girl I've ever known. And you always smell really good.” He's kissing his way down my neck. “What is that smell?”

“Bluebells.” I'm shivering, and it's not because of the cold. His hands are at my hips, under my coat. I have to lean against the car to keep my balance. “Bluebells and . . . burnt sugar.” It's so hard to think.

“Yeah, that's it. Sugar. My grandma used to have a thing of brown-sugar bath salts in her bathroom. . . . One time I dumped the whole bottle into the toilet because I wanted to see if it would fizz.” Reeve kisses me, his mouth open against mine, and I have that feeling I get when I step into the bath, warm all over. I let out a sigh. Softly he asks me, “Do you want to come inside for a minute?”

I whisper back, “What, are you going to sneak me up to your room?”

He grins. “Yeah. Why not?”

I put my hands on his shoulders and tilt my head up at him.
“Sorry to break it to you, but I'm not your girl Melanie Renfro. I don't do that.” For the first time in my life, I wish I was that kind of girl.

“I know you're not like Mel,” he says, and I feel a slight twinge of jealousy. It sounds so affectionate. So intimate.
Mel.
Then he says, “You're not like any other girl I've ever met.”

I can feel myself flush. Shyly I say, “I don't want your parents to see me.”

Reeve kisses me again, with the confidence of a boy who knows exactly what he's doing. His hands move under my sweatshirt, and I don't even care that they're cold. I just want him to keep on touching me. When he's touching me, everything else fades mercifully away, and I'm not thinking about what I did to Rennie, what I did to Mary. It feels good to forget, even if it's just for a moment.

When I shiver, he stops abruptly and says, “You should go. It's cold out here and your hair's wet.”

“Okay.” I start to stand up straight.

“Wait . . . five more minutes.”

“Five more minutes,” I agree, pulling him toward me again.

*  *  *

The next morning everybody's eating doughnuts by the vending machines, and I sneeze three times in a row. Reeve's eyes
meet mine and he smiles a secret smile, but I don't smile back.