Joey stopped before I was even close to ready. All kinds of things raced through my mind—Did the kiss not measure up? Did his feelings vanish as quickly as they had appeared?—until he smiled, his fingers stroking my chin, trailing slowly down my neck, lighting my entire body on fire.
“That was nice,” he said.
I nodded, unable to find my voice.
“I want to gulp you down.”
I loved the smoky sound of his voice as he whispered to me.
“But I have to take sips. Or else this thing could be dangerous.”
I took a deep breath. And I finally understood. He felt the same way I did. And everything was going to be fine. Slow. But good. I could handle that.
After bumping his nose against mine and giving me one last small kiss, he looked up. I tipped my forehead against his and stared at the dancing sky.
I wanted the night to last forever. It killed me, knowing that each moment ticked me closer to the time we would have to part from the magic of the field. I looked at Joey, traced the dip of his nose with my eyes. And I got an idea.
“You have to be quiet,” I said as I pulled my phone from my pocket.
“Why?” Joey looked at me with curious eyes.
I had already punched in the number and was listening to the third ring. “Shh.”
“Honey, what is it? Are you okay?” My mom’s voice was heavy, and I knew that I’d woken her. I wondered if she was in bed or still on the couch with the quilt draped over her legs while late night television flickered light across the living room.
“I’m fine, Mom,” I said with a yawn. “Just tired. Is it okay if I sleep over at Tanna’s tonight?”
My mom caught my yawn. “That’s fine,” she said. “Just call me in the morning.”
“Okay.” I grinned at Joey. “’Night.”
When I closed my phone and slid it back into my pocket, Joey turned to his side, propping himself on an elbow. “You,” he said, “are trouble.”
I laughed, the sound of my voice skipping across the empty field. “You gonna call home, too?” My heart was beating fast, in time with the rapid melody of the crickets that surrounded us. I wasn’t sure what Joey would think about what I’d just done. I knew that call had been the final step, crossing a line that meant our friendship was now something much more complicated. And I was excited to see what lay ahead. “Or do I have to spend a night in this field alone?”
Joey leaned forward, his lips brushing mine, lingering, his breath an intoxicating sugary mist. “You think I’d miss out on this opportunity?” Joey asked, shaking his head. “Not. On. Your. Life.”
7
Crashing Onto Me
I held my breath because of the smell. It was stale, and musty, and wrong.
My feet stepped slowly, skidding every so often on the thick carpet, a deep maroon pool that sucked me under with its circular pattern, pulling me forward to the last place I ever wanted to be. The last place I ever thought I would be.
“There she is,” someone just ahead of me whispered.
I did not look up.
“Do you think it’s true?” another voice asked.
Shannon’s grasp on my hand tightened. “Ignore them.”
“You got this,” Tanna said. I wasn’t sure if she was speaking to herself or to me.
The dark box was just ahead, its shiny surface glinting, even in the dim lighting of the room. One glance and I squeezed my eyes so tight I saw starbursts. I wished I could squeeze so hard I’d pass out and miss this entire thing.
The faint sound of “You and Me” by the Dave Matthews Band caught in my ears. At first, I thought I had imagined it. But then I remembered the CDs Pete, Tanna, Shannon, and I had made. I could hardly recall sitting on my front lawn as we made the playlists on Pete’s iPod, or going inside to burn the songs to disks. What I remembered most was all of us wondering why Adam had refused to join, worrying about why he was pulling away, and hoping that we would get him back.
When I opened my eyes, I saw it again. The long box. But I saw something else, too. Joey’s profile peeking just above the side. It looked like he was sleeping.
Those long-ago memories rushed me again. Joey in health class. Joey lying under the shooting stars. Joey—just sleeping.
But then my eyes skittered around the room, and all illusion vanished.
The terrible sadness that had overtaken me, the truth of Joey’s death, shadowed everyone in darkness. I looked at the crowd of varsity cheerleaders, sports lovers, drama clubbers, and overall party freaks hovering around the pocket of easels on the right side of the church, their backs facing the hundreds of pictures we’d taped to the poster boards. It felt as if each person in the room was staring directly at me. Then my eyes jumped left, found Joey’s baseball team clamoring around a seating area, all in white Oxford shirts and black ties, their faces so melted by sadness I could hardly recognize them as they waited for me to break open.
I bobbed through the center aisle of the church, Tanna and Shannon at my sides, focusing on one thing: Joey’s mother’s shoes. They were tan, flat, and ugly. Joey would be so embarrassed, I thought, then scolded myself. The poor woman had just lost her son. It was a wonder she had found the sanity to put on any shoes at all.
Five steps later, I was in front of her, standing on two shaky legs. I put my hand on her shoulder and kissed her soppy cheek, trying to keep my eyes from darting to the body lying next to her husband. As I moved away from Mrs. Walther, Joey’s father reached out and folded me against him. He whispered something across the top of my head, but all I caught was the vibration coming from his chest. I wanted to stop time, to stay there in his arms forever, because his shirt smelled like Joey. And he was the last stop before my final good-bye.
Mr. Walther pulled away from me, holding me at arm’s length as his eyes wandered the planes of my face. “Doesn’t he look peaceful?” Mr. Walther asked, tilting his head.
And I turned.
Faced him for the last time.
My Joey.
Tanna uncurled my fingers from the side of the coffin and tucked my hand into hers, squeezing. “It’s okay,” she said. “Just say good-bye.”
I sucked in a deep breath and looked from Joey’s cheeks to his nose to his chin, wanting with everything I was to see one more radiant smile light up his face. Wanting to see his eyes flash out at the world around him.
His blue, blue eyes. They matched his favorite T-shirt almost perfectly. I was glad Rylan had talked his parents out of burying Joey in a suit; I knew they’d had several arguments over the matter. Rylan had insisted on Joey’s sky blue, HullabaLOU T-shirt, which he had picked up last summer when the six of us spent the entire day at the music festival. It was crisp and pulled tight across Joey’s still chest and was actually tucked into his favorite Abercrombie jeans, which was so not how he did things, but whatever. At least he would be comfortable.
“How’m I supposed to say good-bye?” I asked.
“You just do it,” Shannon said. “You gotta.”
I shook my head. Tears fell from my chin onto Joey’s face. I wanted to wipe them away. But I was afraid to touch him.
Terrified.
And that nearly made me collapse. Because this was Joey.
“Okay,” I said. “I can do this.”
“Yeah,” Shannon said. “You can.”
I nodded. More tears fell.
“Do you want us to stay?” Tanna asked. “Or leave you alone?”
I didn’t know how to answer. And then I forgot the question, because I heard him. Right behind me. A huge wave of relief surged through me as I turned, a smile daring to form on my lips, and said his name.
“Joey?” It’s crazy, I know, but I really believed. The waxy version of him lying so still did not seem real, so it felt right, the hope that blossomed through my chest.
But then his mother crumpled in her chair, and I realized my mistake.
It wasn’t him at all. No. It had been Rylan.
“Oh, God,” I said, my hand slamming to my mouth.
Rylan looked at me, his blue eyes pinched tight, and blew a burst of air from his lips.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Rylan’s shoulders slumped as he slid into the chair next to his mother. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands. It was the first moment I wondered what it might be like to live in the Walthers’ house, so quiet with Joey gone. It must be so much harder for Rylan to be left behind, a reminder to everyone just by being himself, because he looked and sounded so much like Joey.
I turned then, back to my good-bye, and leaned toward Joey’s still face.
My lips were so close to his ear that I would have felt the heat of him if he’d been alive.
“I love you, Joey,” I whispered for the first and last time in my life.
Then I pressed two fingers to my mouth, placing my final kiss for him there, and settled my fingers on his lips.
But his lips were all wrong.
They were cold and hard. The exact way I did not want to remember Joey.
The moment the touch registered in my brain, I realized that I never should have done it. The seconds my fingers rested on his stony lips would never be erased. Not in all my life. No matter what I did to scrape them away.
I turned and ran then, through the throngs of hushed people trying not to stare, past my mother, who had held out her arms to stop me. I shoved myself through the back door of the church and out into the bright light of the last May of Joey’s life.
My knees dug into the soft soil, the grass prickling my skin.
My body heaved, stomach tight as I threw up a wave of acidic bile, the only thing left in me.
I curled my fingers into the ground, ripping up a handful of the earth beneath me, hurling it into the bushes that lined the side of the church.
Tanna’s feet, her black-polished toes and black strappy sandals, appeared at my side. “You okay?”
“No.” If I’d had the energy, I would have screamed it loud enough for everyone in the world to hear.
Tanna knelt beside me, gently pulling my hair out of my face, tugging it into a ponytail, and securing it with an elastic band.
“I want to be alone.” I curled into myself, a tight ball, and rested my cheek on the cool grass, closing my eyes and feeling a ghostly breeze attempt to dry the tears on my cheeks.
“Your mom was chasing after you,” Tanna said. “I convinced her to let me come out instead. You sure you want me to go?”
I nodded, the fresh scent of cut grass mingling with the sour smell of my vomit. “Just tell her I need some space.”
“Pete and Adam are over by the koi pond,” Tanna said. “I’m going to tell them to wait for you.”
I didn’t say anything. Just focused on my breathing.
Tanna rubbed her fingernails along my back, giving me goose bumps. “You’re still alive, Mags. You might not feel like it. But you have to keep going.”
“I love you, Tan, but I need you to leave,” I said. “Please.”
“You have all of us here to help you through this,” Tanna said. “When you’re ready. Don’t forget that.”
She stood then, without another word, and walked away. When the vibration of her footsteps stopped buzzing the ground beneath me, I turned onto my back and stared up at the too-bright, too-blue sky, wishing it would come crashing down onto me.
“What’re you playing?” I asked as I sat on the large rock between Pete and Adam. When Tanna left me, I had planned to lie there in the grass until my body failed and I no longer had to force myself to remember to breathe. But then I thought of the shrink they were making me see next week and imagined myself being wheeled down a dim corridor in some far-off mental hospital. I couldn’t lose it completely. At least not in a way that was so obvious to others.
Pete’s fingers kept moving, plucking invisible strings on the imaginary guitar propped on his lap. He did it often, the whole air guitar thing. Especially when he was bored or angry. Once I’d even caught his fingers playing after he fell asleep during a movie.
“Skynard,” he said. “‘Freebird.’”
I stretched my legs forward, kicking out of the high-heeled sandals Tanna had yanked from my closet the night before. “It should be raining,” I said, tipping my face to the clear blue sky. “Angry, thrashing rain with streaks of lightning and crashing thunder.”
Adam looked up, too, squinting at the sun. “That would make more sense.”
“It should rain forever,” I said. “Now that we’re stuck without him.”
Pete rocked forward a bit, looking down at the koi swimming in the little rock-lined pond. “Sucks inside,” he said. “Hard. We had to get away.”
I stared into the glimmering water, focusing on the largest fish in the group. It was silver and black and almost disappeared as it whipped around the others, a streak of shimmering lightning. It seemed like everything I saw or thought of brought me right back to Joey. The fish was no exception with its fearless, unstoppable energy.
“I think he looks good,” Pete said, tilting his face toward me without looking into my eyes.
“You do?” I asked, my voice shaking.
“Not really.” Pete scrunched his eyes, like he was in pain just thinking about Joey lying there in his coffin. “They did a good job on his head, where he hit the ledge, which is surprising. Other than that, he looks like some kind of wax version of himself. But I wasn’t about to say that to you.”
“You just did.” I chuckled. The sound felt scratchy and raw as it traveled up my throat. “And I agree.” My fingers were still tingling from the icy feel of Joey’s lips. I wondered if I would go through the rest of my life with my skin crawling as if I was still touching his death.
“I’m just glad they put him in that HullabaLOU T-shirt.” Adam’s voice was small, like he was very far away.
I sucked in a deep breath, remembering our day at the crazy-huge music festival. Pete had scored us the tickets through someone his dad knew, and all six of us had spent ten hours in the crowd, sweating in the summer sun, drinking what we could get our hands on, and dancing to the coolest bands. It was almost dark when the Steve Miller Band hit the main stage, and the rain began to fall. It came in a huge rush, like the clouds above knew how hot and sticky we were, and drenched us in an instant. The six of us danced, and laughed, and sang all at the same time, spinning on the slippery, muddy ground. It was at the very end of “Fly Like an Eagle,” when they were singing about time slippin’ forward, that Joey swept me against his body and pressed his lips to my neck. “This is the best night of my life,” he’d said with a laugh. “And you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
It was the closest Joey had ever come to telling me that he loved me. Then he spun me away and whipped his hands into the air, bumping into Adam and Pete as they pulled Tanna up from the muddy ground. Shannon slung an arm around my shoulders and sang along with the band, droplets of water rushing down her face, drip-drip-dripping off the wavy strands of her darkened hair.
If only we could go back. When Joey leaned in, his warm breath tickling my neck, that would be the one moment of my life I’d choose to relive. Over, and over, and over again.
“You guys want to get together later?” Pete asked, his voice low, like he knew he was pushing when he wasn’t sure if he should. “Hang out and … I don’t know, just be together or something? All of us? I feel like he’d like that. Joey, I mean.”
I looked at Adam, the way his eyes had fallen down to the ground, not looking at either of us, not responding at all.
“Yeah,” I said. “We should. Adam, you in?”
“I don’t know,” Adam said. “My mom’s kind of clingy right now, you know? And I have some shit for school—”
“Dude,” Pete said. “School? What about Joey?”
Adam looked up then, his eyes flaring. “Just call me when you figure it out. I’ll come if I can.”
&nbs
p; “Right,” Pete said, standing. “I gotta go in. My parents should be here by now.”
“We’ll be there in a few,” I said, looking at Adam, wondering how the person sitting beside me was the same guy I’d considered one of my best friends for most of my life. Because, suddenly, he seemed like someone I barely knew. I was dying to touch him, to feel that he wasn’t so far away. I missed him like crazy, had thought of a thousand things I’d wanted to say to him over the last few days while he ignored us, but I didn’t know how to cross the expanse that all the questions had created between us.
Pete walked away, and I tried to think of the right way to start. Of how I could get the answers I needed without pushing Adam into an even darker place.
“I’ve tried calling you,” I said, deciding to talk to him as if nothing had changed, saying exactly what was on my mind instead of dancing around all the feelings. “Like, a hundred times.”
Adam nodded. “Haven’t felt much like talking.”
“You can’t push us all away, Adam. We’re still here.”
Adam buried his face in his hands. “I know.”
“I don’t want to make things worse. But there’s stuff I need to ask.”
Adam sighed. “Like?”
“Why were you and Joey fighting?” The question tumbled out before I could stop it. I knew it was the wrong way to approach this new version of Adam, but I didn’t take it back. I just stared at the glinting back of the silver fish, hoping it was the moment I would finally get some answers.
“I already told you.” Adam’s voice was tinged with a shaky kind of anger. “It was nothing.”
I closed my eyes and pictured Joey at the party standing on Jimmy Dutton’s back deck, a wave of something powerful rolling off him and dashing across the lawn, right toward Adam. But I’d been standing there, too. Right next to Adam. A little more than drunk, my head spinning from dancing in circles. And I couldn’t be sure some of that anger hadn’t been directed at me. If that’s why Joey hadn’t told me where he’d spent Friday night.
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