by Alyson Noel
“I’m sorry for just showing up and not calling first, I guess I—”
But she doesn’t let me finish. She just opens the door and waves me right in, ushering me toward the kitchen table where I sat once before—the last time I was in trouble and had nowhere to turn.
I used to loathe her, really loathed her. And when she started convincing Riley to move on—to cross the bridge to where our parents and Buttercup were waiting—it got even worse. But even though I used to count her as my worst enemy besides Stacia, all of that seems like so long ago now. And as she fusses around the kitchen, setting out cookies and brewing green tea, I watch, feeling guilty for not keeping in touch, for only coming around when I’m desperately in need.
We exchange the usual pleasantries, then she takes the seat across from me and cradles her teacup as she says, “You’ve grown! I know I’m short, but you positively tower over me now!”
I shrug, unsure how to deal with this but knowing I better get used to it. When you grow several inches in a matter of days, people tend to notice. “I guess I’m a late bloomer. You know, going through a growth spurt—or—something,” I say, my smile feeling clumsy on my lips, realizing I need to come up with a much more convincing reply, or at least learn how to reply with conviction.
She looks me over and nods. Not buying a word of it but deciding to just let it go. “So, how’s the shield holding up?”
I swallow hard, blinking once, twice. I was so focused on my mission I’d forgotten about the shield she helped me create. The one that blocked out all the noise and sound the last time Damen went away. The one I dismantled the moment he returned.
“Oh, um, I kind of got rid of it,” I say, cringing as the words spill from my lips, remembering how it took the better part of an afternoon just to put it in place.
She smiles, gazing at me from over the top of her cup. “I’m not surprised. Being normal’s not all it’s cracked up to be, once you’ve experienced something more.”
I break off a piece of oatmeal cookie and shrug. Knowing that if it were up to me, I’d choose normal over this any day.
“So, if this isn’t about the shield—then what is it?”
“You mean you don’t know? What kind of psychic are you?” I laugh, far too loud for such a dumb, feeble joke.
But Ava just shrugs, tracing a heavily ringed finger along the rim of her cup as she says, “Well, I’m no advanced mind reader like you. Though I do sense something rather serious in the works.”
“It’s about Damen,” I start, pausing to press down on my lips. “He’s—he’s changed. He’s become cold, distant, cruel even, and I—” I drop my gaze, the truth behind the words making them so much harder to say. “He won’t return my calls, won’t talk to me at school, he even moved his seat in English, and now he—he’s dating this girl who—well, she’s just awful. I mean, really, truly awful. And now he’s awful too—”
“Ever—” she starts, her voice warm and gentle, her eyes kind.
“It’s not what you think,” I tell her. “It’s not that at all. Damen and I didn’t break up, we weren’t having problems, it was nothing like that. It’s like, one day everything was great—and the next—not.”
“And did something happen to precipitate this change?” Her face is thoughtful, her eyes on mine.
Yeah, Roman happened. But since I can’t explain my suspicions, that he’s an immortal rogue (despite all evidence to the contrary), employing some sort of mass mind control or hypnosis or spell casting (which I’m not even sure is possible) over the entire Bay View student body, I just tell her about Damen’s recent bout of odd behavior—the headaches, the sweating, and a few other safe-to-talk-about nonsecret things.
Then I sit there, holding my breath as she sips her tea and looks out the window at the beautiful garden beyond, her gaze returning to me when she says, “Tell me everything you know about Summerland.”
I stare at the two halves of my uneaten cookie and clamp my lips shut, never having heard the word mentioned so openly and casually like that. I’d always thought of it as Damen’s and my sacred space, never realizing that mere mortals might know of it too.
“Certainly you’ve visited?” She sets down her cup and raises her brow. “During your near-death experience perhaps?”
I nod, remembering both of my visits, the first time when I was dead, the second with Damen. And I was so taken with that magical, mystical dimension with its vast fragrant fields and pulsating trees—I was reluctant to leave.
“And did you visit its temples while you were there?”
Temples? I didn’t see any temples. Elephants, beaches, and horses—things we both manifested, but certainly no buildings or dwellings of any kind.
“Summerland is legendary for its temples, or Great Halls of Learning as they’re called. I’m thinking your answer lies there.”
“But—but I’m not even sure how to get there without Damen. I mean, short of dying and all …” I look at her. “How do you even know about it? Have you been there?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve been trying to access it for years. And though I’ve come close a few times, I’ve never been able to get through the portal. But maybe if we merge our energy together, pool our resources so to speak, we just might get through.”
“It’s impossible,” I say, remembering the last time I tried to access it that way. And even though Damen was already showing signs of distress, he’s still way more advanced than Ava on her very best day. “It’s not that easy. Even if we do pool our energy, it’s still a lot more difficult than you think.”
But she just shakes her head and smiles, rising from her seat as she says, “But we’ll never know until we try, right?”
twenty-three
I follow her down a short hallway. My flip-flops snapping against a red woven rug as I think: This’ll never work.
I mean, if I couldn’t access the portal with Damen, how can I possibly access it with Ava? Because even though she seems to be a pretty gifted psychic, her skills are mostly saved for the party circuit, telling fortunes over a fold-up card table, embellishing them in hopes of a generous tip.
“It’ll never work if you don’t believe,” she says, pausing before an indigo door. “You need to have faith in the process. And so, before we enter, I need you to clear your mind of all negativity. I need you to rid yourself of any sad or unhappy thoughts, or anything else that’s dragging you down and serves the word can’t.”
I take a deep breath and stare at the door, fighting the urge to roll my eyes as I think: Great. I should’ve known. This is just the sort of hokey stuff you’re forced to tolerate when you’re dealing with Ava.
But all I say is, “Don’t worry about me, I’m good.” Nodding in a way I hope is convincing, wanting to avoid her usual twenty-step meditation, or whatever woo-woo practice she might have in mind.
But Ava just stands there, hands on hips, eyes on mine. Refusing to let me in until I agree to lighten my emotional load.
So when she says, “Close your eyes,” I do. But only to speed things along.
“Now I want you to imagine long spindly roots sprouting from the soles of your feet and delving deep into the earth, carving into the soil and stretching their limits. Digging deeper and deeper into the ground until they’ve reached the earth’s core and can’t go any farther. Got it?”
I nod, picturing what she asks, but only so we can get this show on the road and not because I believe in it.
“Now take a deep breath, take several deep breaths, and let your whole body relax. Feel your muscles loosening, while your tension fades away. Allowing any lingering negative thoughts or emotions to disappear. Just banish them from your energy field and tell them good riddance. Can you do that?”
Um, whatever, I think. Just going through the motions and feeling pretty surprised when my muscles really do start to relax. And I mean, really relax. Like I’m at peace after a long hard battle.
I guess I wasn’t aware of just how te
nse I’ve been or how much negativity I was lugging around until Ava made me release it. And even though I’m willing to do just about anything to get into that room and closer to Summerland, I have to admit that some of this mumbo-jumbo stuff might really work.
“Now draw your attention up until you’re focused on the crown of your head, the area right at the top. And imagine a solid beam of the purest golden white light penetrating that very spot and easing its way all down your neck, your limbs, your torso, all the way down to your feet. Feel that warm, wonderful light healing every part of you, coating every last cell both inside and out, allowing any lingering sadness or anger to be transformed into loving energy by this powerful healing force. Feel the light surging inside you like a steady beam of lightness, love, and forgiveness with no beginning or end. And when you start to feel lighter, when you start to feel yourself purified and cleansed, open your eyes and look at me, but only when you’re ready.”
So I do, I go through the whole white light ritual, determined to participate and at least pretend to take these steps seriously since it’s important to Ava. And just as I imagine a golden beam coursing through my body, coating my cells and all that, I also try to calculate just how long I should delay opening my eyes so it won’t look too fake.
But then, something odd happens. I find myself feeling lighter, happier, stronger, and despite the desperate state I arrived in—fulfilled.
And when I do open my eyes, I see that she’s smiling at me, her entire body surrounded by the most beautiful violet aura I’ve ever seen.
She opens the door and I follow her inside, blinking and squinting as I adjust to the deep purple walls of this small spare room that, from the looks of it, seems to double as a shrine.
“Is this where you give your readings?” I ask, taking in the large collection of crystals and candles and iconic symbols that cover the walls. Watching as she shakes her head and settles onto an elaborate embroidered floor cushion, patting the one right beside her and motioning for me to sit too.
“Most of the people who show up here are occupying a dark emotional space, and I can’t risk letting them in. I’ve worked very hard to keep the energy in this room pure, clean, and free of all darkness, and I don’t allow anyone to enter until their energy is cleared, including me. That cleansing exercise I just put you through, I do it first thing every morning, just after I wake, and then again before entering this room. And I recommend you do it too. Because even though I know you thought it was nonsense, I also know you’re surprised by how much better you feel.”
I press my lips together and avert my gaze. Knowing she doesn’t have to read my mind to know what I’m thinking. My face always betrays me—it’s incapable of lying.
“I get the whole healing light thing,” I say, gazing at the bamboo blinds covering the window and the shelf lined with stone statues of deities from all over the globe. “And I have to admit that it did make me feel better. But what was that root thing all about? It seemed kind of weird.”
“That’s called grounding.” She smiles. “When you came to my door, your energy felt very scattered and this helps to contain it. I suggest you perform that exercise daily as well.”
“But won’t it keep us from reaching Summerland? You know, by grounding us here?”
She laughs. “No, if anything, it’ll help you stay focused on where you really want to go.”
I gaze around the room, noticing how it’s so crammed with stuff, it’s hard to take it all in. “So is this like your sacred space?” I finally say.
She smiles, her fingers picking at a loose thread on her cushion. “It’s the place where I come to worship and meditate and try to reach the dimensions beyond. And I have a very strong hunch that this time, I’ll get there.”
She folds her legs into the lotus position and motions for me to do so as well. And at first I can’t help but think that my new long and gangly legs will never bend and entwine like hers. But a moment later I’m shocked by the way they just slip right into place, folding around each other in a way that’s so natural and comfortable without the least bit of resistance.
“Ready?” she asks, her brown eyes on mine.
I shrug, gazing at the soles of my feet, amazed to see them so visible as they rest on top of my knees, wondering what kind of ritual she’ll put us through next.
“Good. Because now it’s your turn to lead.” She laughs. “I’ve never been there before. So I’m counting on you to show us the way.”
twenty-four
I had no idea it would be so easy. Didn’t believe we’d be able to get there. But just after I lead us through the ritual of closing our eyes and imagining a brilliant portal of shimmering light, we joined hands and toppled right through, landing side by side on that strange buoyant grass.
Ava looks at me, her eyes wide, her mouth open, but unable to form any words.
I just nod and gaze all around, knowing just how she feels. Because even though I’ve been here before, that doesn’t make it any less surreal.
“Hey, Ava,” I say, rising to my feet and brushing the seat of my jeans, eager to play tour guide and show her just how magical this place can be. “Imagine something. Anything. Like an object, an animal, or even a person. Just close your eyes and see it as clear as you can and then …”
I watch as she closes her eyes, my excitement building as her brows merge together and she focuses on her object of choice.
And when she opens her eyes again, she clasps her hands to her chest and stares straight ahead, crying, “Oh! Oh, it can’t be—but look—it looks just like him and he’s so real!”
She kneels on the grass, clapping her hands together and laughing with glee as a beautiful golden retriever leaps into her arms and smothers her cheeks with wet sloppy licks. Hugging him tightly to her chest, murmuring his name again and again, and I know it’s my duty to warn her he’s not the real deal.
“Ava, um, I’m sorry but I’m afraid he won’t—” but before I can finish, the dog slips from her grasp, fading like a pattern of vibrating pixels that soon vanish completely. And when I see the devastation on her face, my stomach sinks, feeling guilty for initiating this game. “I should’ve explained,” I say, wishing I hadn’t been so impulsive. “I’m so sorry.”
But she just nods, blinking back tears as she brushes the grass from her knees. “It’s okay. Really. I knew it was too good to be true, but just to see him like that again, just to have that moment—” She shrugs. “Well, even if it wasn’t real, I don’t regret it for a second. So don’t you regret it either, okay?” She grasps my hand and squeezes it tight. “I’ve missed him so much, and just to have him for those few brief seconds was like a rare and precious gift. A gift I got to experience thanks to you.”
I nod, swallowing hard, hoping she means it. And even though we could spend the next several hours manifesting everything our hearts desire, the truth is, my heart desires only one thing. Besides, after witnessing Ava’s reunion with her beloved pet, the pleasure of material goods no longer seems worth it.
“So this is Summerland,” she says, gazing all around.
“This is it.” I nod. “But all I’ve ever seen of it is this field, that stream, and a few other things that didn’t exist until I manifested them here. Oh, and see that bridge? Way over there, off in the distance, where the fog settles in?”
She turns, nodding when she sees it.
“Don’t go near it. It leads to the other side. That’s the bridge Riley told you about, the one I finally convinced her to cross—after a little coaxing from you.”
Ava stares at it, her eyes narrowed as she says, “I wonder what happens if you try to go across? You know, without dying, without that kind of invite?”
But I just shrug, not having nearly enough curiosity to ever try and find out. “I wouldn’t recommend it,” I say, seeing the look in her eyes and realizing she’s actually weighing her options, wondering if she should try to cross it, out of sheer curiosity if nothing else. “You might
not come back,” I add, trying to relay the potential seriousness since she doesn’t seem to get it. But I guess Summerland has that effect—it’s so beautiful and magical it tempts you to take chances you normally wouldn’t.
She looks at me, still not fully convinced but too eager to see more than to just sit around here. So she links her arm through mine, and says, “Where do we begin?”
Since neither of us has any idea just where to begin—we begin by walking. Heading through the meadow of dancing flowers, making our way through the forest of pulsating trees, crossing the rainbow-colored stream filled with all manner of fish, until finding a trail that, after curving and winding and meandering forever, leads us to a long empty road.
But not a yellow brick road or one paved with gold. This is just a regular street, made of everyday asphalt, like the kind you see at home.
Though I have to admit that it’s better than the streets at home because this one is clean and pristine, with no potholes or skid marks. In fact, everything around here appears so shiny and new you’d think it’d never been used, when the truth is—or at least the truth according to Ava—Summerland is older than time.
“So what exactly do you know about these temples, or Great Halls of Learning as you call them?” I ask, gazing up at an impressive white marble building with all sorts of angels and mythical creatures carved into its columns and wondering if it could be the place that we seek. I mean, it looks fancy yet serious, impressive but not exactly formidable, everything I imagine a hall of higher learning to be.
But Ava just shrugs as though she’s no longer interested. Which is a tad more noncommittal than I’d like.
She was so sure the answer lay here, was so insistent on binding our energy and traveling together, but now that we’ve made it, she’s a little too enamored with the power of instant manifestation to concentrate on anything else.