by Ayres, Jamie
The weird thing was, after the angel took Sam out of me that night, I regained more memories of my time in the Underworld. Some of them were faint, but one of them was very clear. I’d met Bo once, the guy Nate had his accident with, who also happened to be Conner’s roommate in Juvie. Being able to give Nate closure, to tell him with absolute certainty that Bo forgave him and didn’t blame him at all for the car crash, was the best thing about being touched by an angel.
But nothing compared to earlier today, when I received my actual acceptance letter to Harvard when I checked my e-mail on my phone at Jumpin’ Java. Conner had picked me up for lunch, and when I saw the letter, I practically choked on my chicken salad sandwich. Harvard hardly accepted anyone off their waiting list. Harvard hardly accepted anyone, period. But when I did my phone interview last week, the alumni conducting it said I nailed all my questions before we hung up, and she seemed really impressed by the world record attempt I was organizing, and she went on and on about how wonderfully written my essay was. The essay topic I chose was to describe a person who’s had an influence on me. I picked Conner, so it was fitting he was there with me when I received my letter.
Good thing I had coffee to wash down my surprise, too. Coffee literally saves lives. Conner was so excited when I showed him my screen in explanation he stood on the table and announced the news to everyone in the packed coffee house. As all the customers and baristas clapped, I shook my head in disbelief, my cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Then Conner grabbed a To Go box and rushed me out of the restaurant, straight to the marina, so I could tell my parents in person. We cried and hugged for a good twenty minutes. Even now, hours later, I got a little teary-eyed thinking about it, and I probably would for the rest of my life.
The only drawback to my acceptance was it hinged on me attending their summer session, so instead of spending time in Grand Haven with the Jedi Order as planned, I’d be in Cambridge from June twenty-third until August ninth.
“Crying?” Conner said, coming up behind us and putting an arm around my shoulder. “Why are you crying?”
“I don’t know. This is all ending.” I gestured to our classmates as the teachers tried to organize everyone into a line. It was like watching someone trying to herd cats.
“Nah. It’s not the end, just the beginning of something new.”
“Exactly,” Tammy chimed in.
“Now, go take your place of honor.” Nic shoved me forward, and I laughed at the thought of her bossiness keeping me in line since fourth grade.
The benefit of being valedictorian was sitting up front with the rest of the students speaking during the ceremony instead of all the way in the back, where my Worontzoff last name would have condemned me to. Commencement was held outside at Buccaneer Stadium. With a smile, I watched everyone file onto our school football field, screaming and laughing. Some I wished I’d gotten to know better, but I was thankful for the close group of friends keeping me sane all these years. Since Conner’s last name was Anderson, he sat directly behind me, Nate Barca just a few seats down from him. Conner reached for my hand. The gesture felt comfortable, familiar, a show of solidarity between the oldest of friends. We’d been together since kindergarten. That fact blew my mind.
We’d endured thirteen grueling years of school together. Could any experience bind two people together more closely than that? Maybe marriage. I wondered if I would marry Conner or Nate one day. I couldn’t imagine ever being closer to anyone else besides them. The possibility seemed light-years away, though. Maybe one day Nate and I would be ready for each other again. Maybe I’d end up marrying some random stranger I met at a coffee house instead. Maybe I’d finally get together with Conner ten years down the road. Or maybe, just maybe, I’d stay happy and single my whole life. Because I finally realized having love in your life didn’t mean having a guy. The point was the future waited with arms wide open, and I had options. But I didn’t want to think about the future too much. I wanted to stay in the present, and right now I thought it was proper to be with Conner. From our first formative years of finger painting and recess, to learning about the three Rs, then being introduced to foreign topics such as biology and sex education in middle school, to physics and calculus in high school, we’d stuck together. Perhaps that was a greater accomplishment than landing at the top of the academic race.
The wind grabbed at my hair, swirling all the happy and sad feelings about graduating into the air around me. But the sun warmed my face, the scoreboard displaying a temperature of sixty-eight degrees, reminding me the brightest days were still ahead.
All the pomp and circumstance seemed to drag on as sweat skated down my back and sides. I sat ramrod straight in my seat when Conner finally stepped on the stage to sing the national anthem, twisting the Morticia Addams ring on my left hand. But as he belted out the lyrics, the words washed over me, reminding me the only light we have to see by is the dawn’s, the future. I couldn’t remember a day when the past, present, and future felt so fused together. Most people couldn’t see time for what it really was, couldn’t perceive forever. All the pain of the past year had taught me that we were in fact infinite. There was a profound peace in that thought, beyond the noise of the stadium. My breath caught at the beauty of Conner’s concluding words. The land of the free and the home of the brave.
I’d been set free this year, and now it was time to be brave. My gaze stayed on my red-painted toes peeking out from my two-inch-high heels, a far cry from the stilettos I wore at prom last month when I went with the Jedi Order, and I prayed I wouldn’t trip while climbing the stairs to the stage for my speech.
I cleared my throat once I made it. “One of the hardest things to do is to hold on to faith during times of transitions. Transitions are difficult because you’re letting go of everything you’ve held on to. It’s a great feeling of vulnerability. Worry happens. But I’m here to tell you to resist the urge to worry.” I looked at Nate and smiled. “That cliché our parents and teachers have told us all these years is true: everything does happen for a reason, and everything will be all right. Now’s the time to dream big, to follow your heart, to live on the edge, to love with passion. Do hard things. Start a bucket list. None of us is promised tomorrow, and when it’s my time to go, I want to drop dead of exhaustion. So write a novel. Watch the top one hundred movies. Read the top one hundred books. Visit the top one hundred places. And while you’re at it, why not break a world record?”
The crowd erupted with thunderous applause and wild cheering as they took a knee on the grass and placed the red cup they’d been hiding under their gown on the metal chair they’d sat on a moment ago. Conner stepped back up to the microphone to sing the lyrics we’d written together for the cup song parody. The original music from “When I’m Gone” by Lulu and the Lampshades started blaring over the loudspeakers as everyone “played” their cups.
“We’ve got our admission to colleges/Minifridge and microwaves/And we sure would like a sweet fake I.D./To enter the beer pong tournament on Fridays/When we’re there/When we’re there/We’re gonna love it when we’re there/We’re gonna love all the exploration/And all the fun flirtation/We’re gonna love it when we’re there.
We’ve got our admission to colleges/And started making our bucket lists/We’ve got protests/Football rivals/We’ve stockpiled coffee for survival/So we can be sure to pass all of our tests/Now we’re done/Now we’re done/We’ll miss each other now that we’re done/We’re gonna miss our basement parties/And the lunch food that clogs arteries/Yeah, we’ll miss each other now that we’re done.
We’ve got our admission to colleges/Got to learn our alma matter songs/And we’ll go to Florida for spring break/But nothing will top our senior pranks/Our legacy here will be bigger than King Kong/Now we’re done/Now we’re done/We’ll miss each other now that we’re done/We’re gonna miss dancing at prom/And recalling memories like we were in Nom/Yeah, we’ll miss each other now that we’re done.
When we’re there/When we’r
e there/We’re gonna love it when we’re there/We’re gonna pack our beaded curtain/And a lava lamp is certain/We’re gonna love it when we’re there.”
He stepped away from the podium to the roar and screams of our classmates all rising from their seats, fists pumping the air. A huge grin split down Conner’s face, and he wrapped his arms around me, swinging me in the biggest of hugs. The excitement crackling throughout the stadium hummed inside my chest as everyone bumped and shoved and cheered. In that moment, lightning strikes, angels and demons, freaky mind connections, visions, and traveling to other realms seemed like a distant memory. Spotting Nate in front of the stage, we both threw our graduation caps into the air, and for one infinite moment, I breathed in the exhilaration of a life lived on the edge and felt the freedom of letting go.
“It takes a long time to become the person we are meant to be.”
—Nate’s Thoughts
Olga
ummer stayed late this year. On the last Friday of August, the digital sign along Harbor Drive flashed a time of 7:40 a.m. and a temperature of seventy-seven degrees Fahrenheit. Few clouds streaked the perfect blue sky, a lofty mirror of the lake below. Rays from the sun reached into my soul and made me pause to enjoy the moment for the first time in weeks. The water had a way of lightening my mood, probably because it brought back so many fond childhood memories. I smiled and took a deep breath of the hot air, glad to have such beauty accompany me for my week home. Conner and I were heading out from the marina for our first sail together since his accident, and we’d invited the entire Jedi Order along. It helped to have a big enough boat to hold us all now. The manager for the Cantankerous Monkey Squad had rented a seventy-footer cruising sailboat for us this weekend.
While I’d been away at Harvard these past two months, Sean, Kyle, and Conner had been living out their dream as rock stars. Right after high school graduation, the guys hired a manager who organized a small tour for them. They played gigs all around Michigan, gaining momentum, recording in a studio. Cantankerous Monkey Squad, their debut self-titled album, quickly climbed the indie charts. It was so strange to hear them being played on the college station at Harvard, everyone’s summer soundtrack. Just this week, they signed with a major record label and would head straight to the studio to record their second album very soon. When their manager asked them how they wanted to celebrate, the boys decided they wanted to come home and get together with the Jedi Order one last time before their lives got out-of-control crazy.
I couldn’t be more proud of them, but I’d also had an unexpected summer. My college roommate was involved with a group called “To Write Love On Her Arms.” The nonprofit helps people struggling with depression. I thought having an organization like that on campus would be the perfect way to use what I’d gone through to help someone else, so I created an outreach program called Jeremiah’s Place my first week of school. Obviously, I thought healing and coffee went hand in hand, so I approached local businesses for donations and opened up a café in a room at the Harvard Student Union every Friday night where students could come and engage socially in a relaxed coffeehouse atmosphere. The Cantankerous Monkey Squad flew in to play at my grand opening, drawing a large gathering. Tables in the back held games like Monopoly, Trivial Pursuit, Scrabble, Chess, and Checkers for the quieter crowd. And there was an area of couches to the side of the room occupied by the campus ministry volunteers where people could get counseling and prayer. I named it Jeremiah’s Place after my favorite verse in the Bible, Jeremiah 29:11: “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.”
The whole thing was a huge success, and local bands called me after our debut event to volunteer free concerts. Already I was working with Harvard campus ministries and their alumni, local businesses, and churches to raise money for a building where we could house a permanent café, counseling center, and a book shop, too.
Starting the chapter on campus inspired me to write an article based on my interactions with the people I met titled “Everybody Has a Story to Tell” that ended up published in the literary magazine, The Harvard Advocate. The Huffington Post republished the feature on their news blog, and the Cambridge News liked my piece so much they offered me a weekly online column under the same title. I even got to intern at the paper all summer, which meant I didn’t come back home except for this one week.
But the thing about the Jedi Order was, whenever we hung out, it felt like no time had passed between us, like nothing had changed. We lost ourselves to lingering, daydreaming, talking, playing, eating, laughing, and just being over the hours, forming a tight circle on the top deck of the boat.
“It’s so weird we’re all off to lead our separate lives in just three short days,” Nic said, stretching her arms behind her head.
She was starting school at Muskegon Community College to obtain her Associates degree in Business so she could take over the Bookman from her parents one day. Her and Sean had broken up a week after graduation. All the time spent with the band proved too hard for their relationship, but so far they’d remained completely friendly. Plus, she was already crazy for some new guy. He was in the Coast Guard, and they’d met at the annual Grand Haven Coast Guard Festival about a month ago.
“Half of our group already has,” Tammy said. “I mean, I counted on Olga to make me feel like a slacker, but not these three knuckleheads.”
Tammy had gotten a cheerleading scholarship to attend Grand Valley State in nearby Allendale. She planned to keep up her modeling to pay for other expenses, which didn’t include alcohol anymore. It had been three months since she had her last drink, and even better, her dad agreed to attend counseling with her.
“Aww, you can come be my groupie anytime,” Kyle told her, winking.
She stuck her tongue out at him and threw a pillow at his head in response.
“See, that’s what I’m talking about.” Sean laughed. “No matter how big we get, we’ll be able to count on ya’ll to keep us real.”
“And I think, no matter how successful everyone gets, we should promise to meet back in Grand Haven once a year,” Adam suggested.
He would be rooming with Nate at Central Michigan University. On a whim, they had decided to backpack around Europe the past eight weeks, staying at youth hostels. I was glad Nate didn’t sit around sulking after I left for Harvard. He had gotten a second chance at life, too, and he wasn’t wasting it. And he didn’t seem mad at me in the slightest for choosing the single life for now. He even brought back a souvenir from his trip, a ring he purchased at the Cambridge Shakespeare Festival where he saw Hamlet with Adam. The silver ring held an inscription: “To thine own self be true.” He gave the gift to me tonight, and I knew I’d wear it all the time, along with Conner’s Morticia Addams ring, reminders of how much love God had blessed me with.
“I’ll drink to that.” Nate lifted up his glass, and we all toasted with our White Sparkling Grape Juice. Much to my delight, everyone abstained from alcohol in support of Tammy’s lifestyle change.
Pulling in a deep, cleansing breath, I took turns fixing my eyes on the Jedi Order. No matter where I went, they’d always be with me… in the whisper of the leaves in the fall, in the bold taste of a fresh cup of coffee, in the feel of the sand beneath my feet, in the clean smell of the rain as it lulled me to sleep. They lived inside everything I did. They were the place where I came from, my home. Nothing on Earth could ever separate us… not distance, not time, not even death. With every passing hour, I thought there couldn’t be a more perfect ending to this day, for it’d been the ending to so many days of my life. I was heading into the sunset with my best friends by my side.
We watched as the sun descended behind the horizon, the spectrum of the sky changing to orange, pink, and red hues. Clouds appeared lit on fire with vibrant colors, mixing green, blue, and purple on the reflective water. Birds probably chirped overhead, boats probably whizzed by, but I heard none of it. In the
fading daylight, I had my best friends to keep me company, and their presence warmed me better than the sun.
“You okay?” Conner whispered in my ear.
“Perfect.”
Being gone from everyone while I went to Harvard proved difficult, but it was also easier in a way, to distance myself from all the weirdness that had happened the past year. The memory of Sam possessing me and impregnating me with his demon spawn was almost too much to bear at times. Not to mention fiercely missing Nate, even though I thought we did the right thing by not getting back together right now. That’s why keeping busy was so helpful. I’d even started writing a novel. The young adult book was about a girl who ventured into various realms of the Underworld, looking for the best friend she had lost. Purely fantasy, of course, but I hoped to finish it and submit the manuscript to literary agents by the end of the year.
I’d told Nate about my story on the phone this past week. He’d called as soon as him and Adam returned from their trip. I felt a little nervous telling Nate about the novel, but of course he was one hundred percent supportive and said he wanted to be the first to read it. Tonight though, we shared no private conversations, maybe because we didn’t trust ourselves to be alone together. But we did share many looks, which all seemed to say, We’re trusting what’s meant to be will be in the end.
Conner took my hand in his and pressed our palms together, spinning my Morticia Addams ring with his other hand. “I’m so, so sorry for everything, Olga.”
Sometimes it was as if he could read my mind, although that trick of Nate’s ended the day after graduation, the year anniversary of the day we met. “For the gazillionth time, stop apologizing. I forgave you a long time ago.”