The Bright Effect

by Autumn Doughton

  I laugh. And then I take a big breath and I do one of the scariest things I’ve ever done. But, like Daphne said, if it’s scary, it’s probably worth it.

  Amelia: Forget me or Forgive me?

  Anything could happen here, I think as I nervously bite my fingernails. I have just long enough to wonder if he’s even going to respond, when my phone goes off in my hand.

  Bash: Forgive. I could never forget you.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Bash

  Here I am, on an uncomfortable seat with a wasp buzzing around my head, about to become official.

  The afternoon is sweltering, a fact made worse since I’m in head-to-toe black. As are all of my classmates.

  Principal Johnson is on the sun-washed stage talking about the year and explaining to the restless crowd how hard we’ve all worked for our diplomas. I turn my head over my shoulder to look for Carter. He’s sitting about a dozen rows back in between Aunt Denise and Uncle Mike.

  “Before we hear from our valedictorian, Shayna Webb, I’d like to call us all to a moment of silence to remember the students and faculty we lost this year.”

  Everyone gets quiet.

  “As you all know, we at Green Cove High School have had a very difficult year,” Mr. Johnson says, struggling to keep his voice steady. “We have prayed together and we have cried together in our classrooms. I don’t think words could ever be enough to explain our sadness or ease our mourning, but I will say this: at least we have each other and the support of our wonderful community.

  “Despite devastating circumstances, I have been so proud to see you students lifting your hearts to each other, displaying empathy and kindness, and working to build a better future. We cannot go back, which means we must go forward, and I hope when you leave this campus today, you go out into the world carrying the lessons you’ve learned and remembering the people who touched your life and were taken too soon.”

  He pauses and looks out over the heads of the crowd. People are quietly crying and sniffling. My spine is tingling, some impulse telling me to seek out Amelia.

  “Please join me in remembering our friends and the teacher we have lost.”

  She’s four rows up and just as my eyes find her, she turns around and looks at me straight on. A scant, humid breeze pushes her hair forward and into her face, but she doesn’t move or brush it away. She keeps looking at me and I keep looking at her. Tears are leaking from her eyes.

  There was a time when I wished that I’d never fallen in love with her, when I thought I should have known better. The pain was a monster that hurt too much. But I finally understand that Amelia could never be a mistake because when I found her, I found myself.

  We’re at the end of high school and everything we’ve ever known. The past is a condemned building we’re being evicted from and the future is nothing but a forwarding address to a place we’ve never been. As I sit here in my itchy cap and gown and look into Amelia’s eyes, I know that, like everything else I want, she’s uncharted territory.

  Loving her is strange and confusing and damn risky.

  And if I had the chance, I’d choose it all over again.

  ***

  The next morning we start packing up the U-Haul trailer way too early. It’s like the zombie apocalypse hit with me chugging coffee and Seth blaring music to stay awake, and boxes and crap everywhere you look. It’s not fun, but by midday, it all starts to feel worth it because the crap is mostly gone and the boxes are all taped up and ready to go.

  “We’re almost done,” I say, surprised at how close we are.

  “Lunch and then we finish Carter’s room?” Seth asks, letting out an exhausted breath. He pulls a blue bandana off his head and stretches out his neck.

  “Sounds good.”

  Carter is staying over in Charleston with our aunt and uncle while Seth and I finish up things here. The plan is to stop and pick him up tomorrow on the way down to Gainesville.

  “I don’t know about you,” Seth says, “but I want one last pulled pork sandwich from Ryan’s Smokehouse. Who knows if they can barbeque down in Florida. I have my doubts.”

  I smile. “I like where your head’s at. Ryan’s it is.”

  We grab our wallets and the keys to Seth’s Honda because the Bronco is already loaded up. The moment we walk out the door, I put my hand in front of my face to block the sun.

  “Hell, it’s bright out here,” I say. And then my eyes adjust to the light and I freeze. Amelia’s silver Prius is parked at the curb and she’s climbing out.

  “Hi,” she says hesitantly when she sees us.

  Seth looks at her and then back to me and I catch the hint of a smile on his face. “You know, Bash… why don’t I go ahead and pick up sandwiches and bring them back here?”

  I don’t trust myself to speak yet so I nod.

  Amelia waves to Seth and we both watch him back out of the driveway. Then her eyes dart up to mine. She tugs on the bottom of her white dress and I notice that beneath it she’s wearing leggings with blue and yellow zigzags.

  “Hi,” she says again.

  Hi, I think.

  Amelia chews on her lip and looks at the boxes piled near the open end of the U-Haul trailer. “I see you guys are packing up.” When I don’t respond, she takes a breath. “So I looked for you after graduation, but it was a madhouse and I... um… I wanted to return this.” She stretches into her car and comes back holding a small white box tied with twine and my copy of Fragile Things.

  I walk closer. “Did you read it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What did you think?”

  She looks down at the grass for a moment and fidgets. “It was beautiful, Sebastian. I loved it and I know you do too so I wanted to make sure you took it back before you left.”

  I don’t want to take anything back. “Keep it.”

  “Are you sure?” she asks doubtfully.

  “Yes. I think I owe you more than a book after what you did with my aunt and uncle. And your dad.”

  Amelia’s skin flushes. “It was the least I could do. I want you and Carter to be happy and...”

  I wait.

  “And I’m sorry,” she says it fast, like the words are fire in her mouth. “I made a mess of things and I don’t know why.”

  “Amelia—”

  “Wait, I need to finish,” she says, her brown eyes pleading with me. “You should know that I wasn’t drunk that night. I lied to you because—well, I can’t explain it. But I loved being with you, Sebastian, and I’m so sorry. And you probably won’t want it, but I got you this.”

  She thrusts the box at me and takes a step back.

  I look down. “You didn't have to get me anything.”

  “I wanted to. It’s a congratulations and an apology and… just open it, okay?”

  I untie the twine and lift up the lid. Inside there is a thick, brown leather cuff with a metal plate fastened to the side. I pick it up so I can read the words inscribed on the plate.

  All your tomorrows start here

  I look up, speechless.

  Her cheeks are still pink and her eyes are reflecting the gold of the sun. “There’s a lady over near Walterboro who makes them. If you don’t like it, I can probably take it back, or…” She starts to reach for the box but I quickly take the cuff out and snap it onto my wrist.

  “I don’t want you to return it. Thank you.”

  Amelia smiles. “You’re welcome.”

  I glance at the house. “I actually have something for you, but I wasn’t sure... “ I shake my head. “It was never the right time.”

  She swallows awkwardly. “Oh, okay.”

  “But it is now. If you can wait right here?”

  She nods and I dash into the house. I find the small roll of paper on top of my bare mattress and I’m glad that I decided not to pack it. I’d been thinking of driving to her house and leaving it in the mailbox with a note, but this is better.

  When I return, Amelia has moved so that she’s beneath
the shade of a laurel tree.

  “Here,” I say and hand her my gift.

  She carefully unrolls the paper and looks at the painting.

  “You’ve seen it before,” I say nervously.

  Amelia doesn’t speak at first. She keeps looking. Then she takes a long breath and says, “I haven’t seen it like this.”

  I used a previous drawing I’d done of her and Daphne as my guide, but in this one, instead of lying next to each other, Amelia is on the grass and Daphne is in the sky looking back at her.

  “You painted it?” she says it like a question.

  “I used watercolors,” I respond. “I’m not great with a brush, but I’m working on it.”

  Amelia shakes her head. A single tear streaks down her cheek. “You’re better than great. This is beautiful and I’ll love it forever.” She falls into silence and wipes at her eyes. Then she takes another big breath and laughs a little and says, “I don’t want to say goodbye to you.”

  I reach for her hand, hold it for a moment and then let it go. My insides are in a million pieces. If this is it—if this is the last chance I get—I want to make it count, but I don’t know how to do that. Before, when things were bad, I’d been so sure I wasn’t enough that I gave up too easily. I let go of the idea of love before it let go of me because it was easier than admitting I was terrified. I don’t want to make that same mistake again.

  “Amelia…”

  She sighs and then smiles sadly at me. “I know. Endings are hard because you want to get it right.”

  My heart constricts. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be an ending. Maybe it can be a beginning. But I can’t always be the one reaching for you. I need—”

  Before I can say anything else, she closes the distance between us, grabs my arm, and kisses me. And she kisses me like I’m not wearing sweaty, moving-day clothes and we’re not standing in my front yard saying what could have been a goodbye. And I put my arms around her and I kiss her back in the same way because she tastes like sunshine and honey and forever and I don’t want to lose this feeling.

  “Amelia, I should have done this before, but I didn’t and now that you’re here I don’t want to waste any more chances.” I hold her face between my hands. “I love you.”

  “But I broke your heart,” she whispers.

  I shrug and kiss her again. “You break it, you buy it.”

  ***

  The morning sunlight is hurting my eyes. I roll to my side and see Amelia, propped up on one elbow, looking down at me.

  She’s still wearing the white dress and the leggings she had on yesterday and her hair is mussed from sleep and her eyes are a little droopy, but when she sees that I’m awake, she smiles.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi,” I say back, smiling too. We’re on a mattress on the floor of my empty room. “Were you watching me sleep?”

  She shrugs. “Maybe.”

  “That’s kind of stalkerish.”

  She shrugs again.

  “And it’s also kind of hot.”

  And then, not caring that I’m exhausted because we were up talking for most of the night, or worrying about the threat of morning breath, I sit up and press my mouth to hers.

  I hear a whistle and then Seth, who is walking by my door, shouts, “Get a room!”

  “We’re in a room,” I yell back.

  “Whatever.”

  Amelia laughs and untangles herself from me. She reaches into her bag and collects an ancient-looking Polaroid camera.

  “More pictures?” I groan. She must have taken twenty pictures of my house last night.

  “Carter is going to be happy to have all of those when he wants to remember what this place looks like.”

  “I do have a phone that takes pictures,” I remind her.

  She’s looking down at the camera, adjusting something on the backside. “Yeah but… I think there’s something to be said for the instant gratification of being able to hold a memory in your hand.”

  “The film’s got to be damn expensive.” She laughs and I ask, “What?”

  “That’s pretty much exactly what I told Daphne when she found it. But she was right. This camera is special and I know it’s not practical, but I’m going to use it to document all the places that Audra and I go to this summer.”

  I smile and run my finger over her shoulder.

  She puts the camera up to her face and snaps a picture of me.

  “Hey—I wasn’t ready,” I complain.

  “I don’t care. I want to remember this moment exactly as it happened,” she says and pulls the picture from the end of the camera and waves it in the air while it develops.

  “Fair is fair,” I say, grabbing the camera from her hands and snapping a candid shot of her.

  After that, we both get quiet. I stare at the picture in my hands, waiting for the image of Amelia to appear.

  “I don’t want this to be it,” she says finally.

  I pick my head up and look at her. “This isn’t it.”

  “But I’m leaving with Audra and you’re moving. Today, I might add.” She sighs. “It just seems like terrible timing. Like we missed the boat or something.”

  “We didn’t miss anything,” I say and take her hand. The cuff she got me is still on my wrist where I intend for it to stay. “I love you and whether we’re together this summer or next year or five years from now, I already know I want all of my tomorrows to start with you. I’m here whenever you’re ready.”

  She blinks. “But you’re going away and…”

  I know what she’s trying to say because she said it last night too. And as I look at her face, I can see the doubt and the uncertainty there, but also the hope. And the hope is what gives me courage.

  This is it. Whatever piece of forever we get, I’m not going to let it go without a fight. I take a breath and I turn her hand over and press it to my heart so she can feel it beating.

  “So follow me.”

  Epilogue

  We stop the car where the sky meets the ocean.

  “Ready?” Audra asks from beside me.

  I turn to my best friend. My fellow adventurer. Her clothes are a little grimier than they were two months ago and her hair is a little messier, but she looks happy. As do I.

  “Yep,” I tell her. “Let’s do this.”

  We step out and I feel the salty Pacific breeze whip up around my bare legs. I think about the road behind us and all of the checkmarks we’ve put on my sister’s list. I think about the cheesy singalong songs we’ve heard too many times and the bad tacos we ate back in St. Louis and then I remember all of the stars we’ve counted and pictures we’ve taken and the smiles we’ve shared.

  And when the sun kisses my eyes and I see the water, sparkling and endless, I think of Sebastian and our whispered late-night phone calls and the promises given and taken this summer. I wonder what Daphne would say about me being in love with him—because there’s no doubt in my mind that I am. And I wonder what she would make of my next adventure. I like to think she’d approve. After all, I’m ready to do something that scares me—follow my own heart exactly where it leads.

  No regrets, I think as Audra takes hold of my hand. Together we step to the edge of the rocky cliff and look out at the wide sky.

  I will always miss my sister, but I know now that wherever I go, whether it’s to California or Florida or Antarctica or the moon, I carry her with me.

  Love you.

  Love you more.

  And with the future spread out before me and the world spinning all around me, I open my mouth and I scream.

  THE END

  Acknowledgements

  Sometimes writing is a solitary thing, but more often than not, it takes a village. When we came up with the storyline for The Bright Effect, I don’t think even we knew how much we would rely on the feedback of others or how many brains we would end up picking. This book is both familiar and uncharted territory for us, and more than anything, we knew that Bash and Amelia’s story was
special and that we needed to get it right. We could not have have done that without some important people.

  Our biggest thank you by far goes to Autumn’s mom, Heather Doughton, who we think might know this story even better than we do since she’s read the book AT LEAST 50 times (and we are not exaggerating). From the very beginning, she cared so much about Bash and Amelia and her thoughts and ideas molded them into the characters they became. She cried, she encouraged, and she pushed us to do better, and we love her for that!

  Special thanks to other early readers and editors: Elizabeth Hilburn, Susan Simmons, Michelle Flick, Lisa West, Renny Meister, Angie McCune, Sarah Smith, Nicole Quiett, Kaylee Gwynn, and Sarah West from Three Owls Editing.

  We’d also like to extend our eternal gratitude to our families who endure sub-par dinners, piles and piles of dirty laundry, and zombie-like moms when we are lost in our writing caves. We love you and couldn’t do this without your support.

  And to our readers. You are everything. You make our dreams come true every single day and if the world were a party, you would all be first on our invite list.

  Cheers,

  Autumn & Erica

  About the Authors

  Autumn Doughton writes books. Fun books. Books for you, your best friend, your favorite barista and that girl you knew back in the tenth grade. She likes to write about the things she knows about. Things like being confused. Being afraid. Falling in love.

  When Autumn isn't writing, she's usually chasing after her three cats, two daughters, two dogs, two chinchillas and one lovely husband. You can find her in Florida, where it's salty, sunny and humid. Bad for the hair. Good for the soul.

  Find out more at www.autumndoughton.com