But, she isn't here.
I've had quick two line emails from her occasionally to let me know she's well and working hard on learning to control herself. I still don't know where she and Haley are, though. She's never said, and I will never ask.
I have seen her exactly once since she disappeared from the grounds of the school. It was the night of Halloween. I was a little depressed and feeling nostalgic, so I drove by the empty lot where her house used to be, and then I drove to the grocery store where she worked. I wandered out back to the cemetery she used to take care of. It was all rubble now, and overgrown with weeds.
I just stood there in the middle of the weeds, staring out into the night, when the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and a cold shiver ran down my chest.
I turned around to see Haley and Stephanie, hand-in-hand, walking out from a thick fog that I hadn't noticed before.
If I thought the change in Morris had been amazing, the change in Stephanie was even more so.
Her hair was slightly longer, and it shone a bright pinkish copper in the moonlight. Her skin was like alabaster and seemed to glow faintly from within. Her eyes were an unnatural but beautiful bright green, the color of new leaves when they bud in the Spring.
More than that, though, there was a stillness about her now, a remoteness, power and radiance that were both dazzling and terrible. Maybe she still went by the name of Stephanie Starr, but there was more goddess than girlfriend in the woman in front of me now.
Haley looked like himself. In fact, he looked stronger and better than I had ever remembered him being.
"You're here!" I said stupidly.
"Yup," Stephanie replied with her old cheeky grin that sat oddly on her now coldly beautiful face.
"How, I mean when did you get here?" I asked.
"Just a moment ago," she replied, giving me a look.
I knew my Stephanie, and I knew she wanted the subject changed. So, I changed it.
"How are you?" I asked, the question banal yet necessary.
"I'm well," she replied carefully. “Really well.” There was something she wasn’t telling me, and after a lifetime of sharing everything, it was an odd sensation to know that she was keeping a secret from me.
"I'm sorry we haven't come sooner," Haley said. "I wasn't strong enough to make the trip until tonight."
"Halloween?" I guessed.
"When the dead walk most easily among the living," Haley confirmed with a laugh.
"Have you seen your mother?" I asked Stephanie.
"No, I can't. Not just yet. It's...complicated."
I left it at that, reluctantly accepting another secretive wedge driven into our friendship.
"I wanted to see you," Stephanie said in a rush. "And, I wanted you to see me. This isn't as easy as you would think, but I've missed you, and I owe you and Morris everything."
"You don't owe me anything," I replied. "Friendship doesn't keep count. It just is."
Stephanie smiled at me sadly, and I reflected it back to her.
"How's my dog?" Haley asked lightly.
"He's good," I chuckled. "He really has a thing for peanut butter. I go through almost a jar a week between the three of him."
He rolled his eyes and smirked.
"I'll send you some pictures of him soon," I promised, experimenting to see if Stephanie would want to continue emailing with me at the very least.
"Please do!" she exclaimed. "And, I promise to write more, at least when I..."
"When she can touch a computer without shorting it out," he finished for her with a sigh of mock frustration. "We're at a...difficult...point in our training right now. So far, the death toll is six computers, two cars, a doorbell, seven cell phones, and my favorite digital camera."
I raised my eyebrows and stared at Stephanie, who shrugged, but looked secretly amused.
"We should be going," Haley said gently. "It's close to midnight here."
Stephanie nodded sadly. Instinctively, she reached out her hand to me, and instinctively, I reached out to take it. Only, at the last second, she snatched it back with a look of fear and frustration on her face.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Someday, though."
"Someday," I agreed, and I watched them disappear back into the mist.
***
Zack was at graduation today. He vanished about two days after doing what he could to get Darbyfield back on its feet. He didn't tell anyone he was going or where he was going. Not Katie Jones. Not me.
But, there he was today, grinning, just like I remembered him, as Mr. Applebee turned slightly purple and burbled out, "Zack Smith." Zack crossed the stage and snagged Jeremy Sterling's diploma as Jeremy waited in line and looked perplexed. That was the end of my being able to pay attention to the ceremony. All I could do is wonder what he was doing back here today of all days.
We had just tossed our caps in the air when I was snatched up into a bone-crushing embrace. Zack never did get the concept of subtlety.
"Well?" I asked a little indignantly, staring up into his unnervingly handsome face.
"We have unfinished business, Helen Jenkins," Zack said. "I never got the chance to win the bet."
"Yeah, leaving me in the lurch in chemistry for the rest of the year, thank you very much."
He laughed, then cupped my face in his hands and crashed his lips into mine, kissing me completely and thoroughly.
If a girl has to have a dramatic first kiss, then it might as well be like that one. I can only say it here in my journal. It was amazing. It was soul-shattering, toe-tinglingly amazing.
He broke it off, breathing hard and staring at me as if he would devour me.
"I will be back," he promised before kissing me one more time.
Abruptly, he pulled back, turned, and walked away from me.
I didn't know whether to giggle giddily or be mad at him. Somehow, I have no doubt he will make good on that promise. But, I don't know when or how, or if even by then I'll want him back in my life.
Who knows who I'll be by the time he comes back? I could be a different Helen all together. If there is one thing I've learned, it's that life changes on a dime. I also know that I am ready for the changes and adventures ahead.
I'm not waiting for my parents to start noticing me. I'm not waiting for Zack. I'm not waiting for anybody or anything anymore.
This is my time and my life.
I am Helen Jenkins.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing might be a solitary occupation, but contrarian that I am, I believe that it takes a village to write a Cait Reynolds book.
‘Downcast’ would literally not be ‘Downcast’ without Britt Behm. Thank you to my soul sister for the title of this book. Thank you for demanding more of me because you believed in me. There is no adequate way to say thank you as well for the years of story yoga, chats, pep talks, beta reading, plot bunny-busting, and emotional support. Every writer should have a Britt Behm on her side. No, you can’t have mine, find your own.
Thank you to my cuzarooo, Carla Faraguna, along with Vassar girl Nadia Lancy, and COLSWAC’ers Anna Zudell and Amber Lytle for beta reading and cheerleading. Thank you to Zee Monodee, LaGuana Gray, Kate Heath, and the rest of Team COLSWAC for sweating through various stages of the writing process with me.
Toni Lewis took the raw cookie dough that was this manuscript and picked out all the raisins. She double-checked the patchwork quilt of this manuscript and untangled all my clues. Kellie Sheridan deserves all the chocolate chip cookies she wants for going above and beyond the call of book managing and giving my manuscript a marathon polishing. Karen Alcaide worked with a piecemeal proofreading paradigm, proving she has the patience of a saint. And, everyone should be so lucky to have a super-talented cover designer like Shari Ryan, who also happens to be one sassy little firecracker that I adore.
Thank you to Lori Culwell, who introduced me to Katherine Fye Sears, who introduced me to Jesse James Freeman, who introduced me to Jennifer Gilbert. The
fact that you all believed in me…and kept believing in me has forever changed my life. I am so grateful to all of you for taking a chance on me (cue ABBA).
This book’s totem animal is Denny Basenji. He is my writing mascot, and I would not be nearly as productive as I am without his demanding, pushy-pawed snuggling.
I have come to the thank you that means the most, yet ironically leaves me searching for the right words. Without the kindness, patience, and faith of my husband Eric Reynolds, I could never have finished this book. Through all the starts and stops of my writing career, he has been unwavering in his belief in my talent and his support of my choice to follow my dream. His actions have often spoken louder than my words. He has uncomplainingly shouldered extra housework, run errands, made my coffee in the mornings and my mac’n’cheese at night, and given me the gift of time. So, with the best and truest skill and craft I have, I say: I love you with every word in my soul.
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