I take a deep breath. “I didn’t know about his allergy.”
I wince, realizing I’m practically begging for forgiveness from the best friend of the boy I killed. My body stays tense, waiting. Zee says nothing. I try to imagine how much he must miss Alex. His best friend. They had years together. I barely knew him.
“I never should have kissed him,” I say softly.
My feet feel as heavy as my heart, but it’s time for me to leave. I take a step away from Zee, about to sprint away.
“I shouldn’t have been with Kaitlin that night,” he says.
I freeze in place.
His voice is almost a whisper. “I was wasted. But it was a shitty thing to do to you.”
My ears burn. My instinct is to pretend not to know what he’s talking about. To deny that he and I had a thing. I’m flooded with the memory of how I’d been so sure that he was going to kiss me.
It’s too late for us now. But for a moment I remember being on the deck. Before Kaitlin showed up. Before I knew Alex was watching.
“Kaitlin and I had this weird history of hooking up. That sounds bad, I know, but she was pretty aggressive, and…it was before.” He curses under his breath. “I’m sorry.”
Zee spins then and runs from me at full tilt, heading toward a play structure nearby. He jumps on top of a planked wooden bridge. He leaps to a higher level and then, while my heart pauses in fear, he does a flip to the ground, landing on both feet.
“See you around, Sam,” he calls, and he jumps up on a play boulder and disappears over it in a blur of motion.
Just like that, he’s gone. Things can change so quickly. One second you’re in the present, the next you’re remembering the past. My insides ache, staring at the empty spot where he stood.
Pushing my ear buds back in place, I jog off in the opposite direction. Fast beats pulse in my ear, and I press the volume button to full, so loud my hair vibrates. I break into a straight-out run and concentrate on nothing except the beat of the music and the pounding of my feet.
I run and run, trying to get rid of the angst icing up my belly. My body finally quits on me, so I circle back and start heading for home. I bring down my pace. I have no choice but to take the route that passes the school, but I stay on the perimeter of the school grounds until I hit the field I need to cross.
Zee is still on the playground, but he looks tiny and far away. I squint and frown, watching as he runs to the parallel bars at full steam. His foot must slip on his takeoff because he ends up slamming his head straight into a metal bar. The sound of it echoes across the schoolyard, and my head stings in sympathy.
Zee stays down for a minute, rubbing his head, and then gets up and goes back and runs at it again. This time he swings his body up but misses the second bar completely. His hands are down and don’t break his fall between the two bars. He flips off the side onto his back. I watch as he lies still, not moving. Inhaling deeply, I start running toward him. My legs ache, but I move them as fast as I can.
Before I reach him, he pushes up. I watch as he runs at the school wall, stopping at two posts that run parallel to the roof. He stares up and then puts one foot on a post and the other foot on the other post and shimmies up to the roof like Spider-Man on a rescue mission.
Wind blows through me and I shiver, but it’s not from the breeze. I’m just close enough to see Zee as he flings his body onto the roof and stands. He glances down at the drop, then looks up to where another wall juts higher with another roof about four feet above the one he’s on. He backs up, staring at the taller wall.
I realize what he wants to do and shout his name, but the wind catches my voice and carries it away. Zee doesn’t even look my way as I get closer. He backs up and then charges, like a bull running at a target. My belly is on fire from a rush of adrenaline.
“Zee! Don’t!” I holler.
My toes touch pavement on the school ground as he leaps off the edge, jumping and reaching for the taller wall. His fingers grip the ledge, but his feet flail against the stones. He’s thrown off balance and slips. I gasp as he loses his footing. He stops moving, pushing his feet against the wall, and then tries again. In slow motion he manages to crawl up the side of the wall and scrambles to the higher roof. He collapses on his back when he’s on top of the roof.
“You asshole!” I yell.
He looks over the edge at me standing below him. “Thanks for noticing,” he calls.
My hands clench into fists, and I make a sound in my throat instead of yelling profanities.
“What are you doing back here?” he asks.
“I need to go this way to get home. You scared the crap out of me.” I’m shaking from his near miss. “You could have been hurt,” I yell. He could have been killed, I think. Doesn’t he get it? We’re not invincible.
“I didn’t know you cared.” A gust of wind blows as he jumps to the lower roof and shimmies down the poles on the side of the building.
“Would you stop that already,” I yell at him.
When his feet touch the ground, he holds one hand in front of his stomach, puts the other behind his back, and bows.
Instead of going at him with both of my fists, I spin on my heels and use the last of my energy to sprint away. I glance over my shoulder to make sure he hasn’t jumped back up on the roof, but he’s moving across the field in the opposite direction.
After keying in the code to get inside the house, I stop, swallowing hard, trying not to cry. I’m so sick of crying. Aunt Allie is sitting in the family room with Fredrick curled up on her lap. She takes one look at me and puts the dog on the floor. He gives her a look of disbelief but tilts his head and runs at me. As he’s jumping on my legs, Aunt Allie rushes in and embraces me in the hallway.
“What happened?” Her warmth and concern make me shiver harder. She murmurs comforting words while Fredrick rubs against my legs, like the cat he’s hiding inside his body.
Aunt Allie pushes me down the hallway. Fredrick trots along behind us as if he’s been invited. “We need to warm you up outside and in,” she says and pulls me inside my bedroom. She sits me on the bed, and Fredrick jumps like a Mexican bean until I pick him up and nestle him in my lap.
“Oh, amiga,” she says in Fredrick’s voice. “We need to fix you up.”
“Wait here,” she says in her own voice, and she goes into the bathroom, starts the bathtub, and then goes to the guest room. She comes back in seconds, holding a fluffy purple robe, and hangs it on my back. “This was your mom’s.”
She scoops up Fredrick and pushes me to the bathroom. “Okay. Go get in the tub. Warm yourself up and put this on when you’re finished. I’ll grab you some clean underpants from your drawer.”
I actually giggle when she says “underpants,” like I’m a seven-year-old girl. She’s treating me like a child, and in response I’m acting like one, but it’s exactly what I need. I’m not about to fight it. I want to be babied and looked after, even it’s for a little while.
She puts her hand under my chin, kisses my cheek, and then walks out, leaving me alone. I pull off my sweaty clothes and slowly lower myself into the hot bath, breathing in the steam and letting the hot water caress me.
When I come out, there are a bra and panties on the counter. I dry myself, slip them on, and then pull on the huge robe, tie up the belt, and roll up the sleeves. I pet the fuzzy sleeves, thinking of my mom. It makes me feel vulnerable and protected at the same time.
“Come to the kitchen,” Aunt Allie calls.
As I slide into a chair at the table, she hands me a steaming cup of mint tea. Cupping it in my hands, I let the heat seep through my body and inhale the fumes, willing them to relax me and draw the tension from my head. Aunt Allie leans against the stove and crosses her arms, her face wrinkled up with concern.
“What happened?”
/> I take another sip of the tea. “I ran into Zee. At the school.”
“Zee is the boy you have a crush on?” She pours hot water into another mug.
My cheeks get warmer. “Zee is the boy I used to swim with.”
She presses her lips tight and cups the mug in both hands. “Whatever you say.”
I want to fight her on that, but know it’s not worth it.
“Zee was practicing Parkour at the school. He almost frigging killed himself, right in front of me. It scared me.” I take a sip of the tea and glance at her over the top of the mug. “Parkour is when kids jump over things—”
She walks to the table, still cradling her mug. “I know what Parkour is.”
I lift my shoulder and sigh. Of course she does.
“And?” She puts her mug down, pulls out a chair, and sits close beside me so our knees touch. Steam rises off my tea and I inhale the scent. It reminds me of her. Aunt Allie. Who is always digging deep inside people’s souls. Helping them see what they need.
“It scared me,” I whisper. “Zee was taking stupid chances.”
“Oh, butterfly. Mortality is a hard lesson at your age. Life is very fragile.” She pats my knee. “It sounds as if your Zee is dealing with his feelings by taking risks. You’re doing it by avoiding them.”
I want to tell her he’s not “my” Zee, but I swallow instead. “How did you know about Zee?” I ask in a soft voice.
“You talked about him when I was in Houston.”
“I did?”
“You did. You told me he was your partner. The angels told me he was a good match for you.”
I think back to our phone conversation. “I told you he was my swim partner.”
“Your voice told me more.” She waves her hand in the air. “Oh. A boy named Casper phoned while you were out. I was nice to him. Is that okay? Should I be nice to him? Is he a nice boy? Or do I want to run him off?”
I shrug. “I’m not sure.” I get up and pour myself a glass of water. “Want some?” I ask her, but she shakes her head.
I’m not about to tell her that Casper is trying to get into my pants. For a second, I wonder whether the angels will reveal it to her. Do they tell my aunt things like that?
“Poor baby,” Aunt Allie says, tsking me. “Boys are hard. So what about Casper?”
I wrap my braid around and around my finger. “We’re working on an English project together.”
“That’s all?” She lifts her brow, and a deep blush starts in my toes and travels up. I walk back to the table and sit.
“I don’t think he’s all he appears to be,” she says.
I tilt my head. “How would you know what he appears to be?”
She smiles at me and points up.
I roll my eyes, even though I believe her. “Casper is just being nice.” I pause and stick my braid in my mouth, chewing the end of it, not wanting to admit what we’re up to. How I’m getting involved in something that might be over my head. I decide to shift the conversation.
“He said I should talk to his sister. I mean, Alex’s sister.”
Aunt Allie doesn’t react to obvious diversion. She nods in agreement. “That I do approve of. You need to talk to her. Can I make a suggestion?”
I wait. “What?” I ask when she doesn’t respond.
“Write it out to her in a letter. You’ll be able to say everything you want. I’m a strong believer in the written word.”
She doesn’t ask if I’ve written to Alex yet. We both know I haven’t. Won’t. Can’t.
I think about her suggestion. Take a sip of tea. It’s cooled down, and I swallow a large mouthful and the flavor of mint lingers on my tongue. “What if she doesn’t want to hear what I have to say? I know you’re trying to protect me, Aunt Allie. But what about Chloe? Maybe she doesn’t want to hear how I feel. Maybe she doesn’t want to hear my excuses.”
“My heart is filled with sympathy for her, Sam. But you come first for me. I’m your person. But I think the sister needs to hear from you too. They’re not excuses. There is heartfelt sorrow in you too. Like hers.”
She stands, goes to the pantry, and opens the door. “She has a void. And yes, she may be angry with you. Maybe even guilty about feeling that anger, because she knows you didn’t mean for it to happen. But how can she begin to not hate you if you don’t speak to her about it?”
My head falls to my chest. She grabs a bag of pretzels from a shelf and brings it to the table. “I don’t blame you. Alex doesn’t blame you, and even his sister probably doesn’t, but you need to face up to the people he loved. Help them let go of their anger by talking to them.”
I reach for a pretzel and nibble at it. “But what if she doesn’t want to? I’m no good at confrontation. We actively avoid it in this house.”
“Well, that’s why I’m here.”
I nod.
“What do you think?” she asks.
I close my eyes, concentrating. Trying to put on Chloe’s shoes. “If I were Chloe and I knew I roamed the same school with her every day, well, it would be weird. Hard.” I open my eyes and look at Aunt Allie. “I guess we’re both kind of connected by this horrible thing.”
“And…” she prompts me.
“And if I don’t talk to her, she will start to hate me because I am not allowing her to deal with it. I can’t change what happened. But I can at least apologize for the part I played in it.”
She nods, purses her lips out, and taps the bottom one with her finger. “Good, butterfly. Good.”
“But how do you tell someone that you’re sorry for something like that?” I ask.
“I honestly don’t know. But you’re a smart girl. Dig deep inside. Write it out. And then afterward, talk to her. You need to talk to her.” She takes another pretzel and bites into it. “But explore it on your own first. Write the letter.”
“Do you always make people write letters?”
“As a matter of a fact, I think it’s a great way to deal with things. I suggest it as a tool when it’s appropriate. Sometimes it’s all we can do.”
Like with Alex. We sit quietly for a while longer, munching pretzels and gulping down tea. When I’m done, Aunt Allie takes my cup from me and looks inside at the leaves on the bottom.
“Yes,” she says.
“What?” I ask, but she takes the cup to the sink, dumps the loose leaves out, rinses it, and says nothing.
I get up from the table and walk to the sink. Without a word I wrap my arms around her and squeeze tight. “Thank you,” I tell her.
She wipes a tear from her eye as I leave her and head to my room. I check my cell phone and text Taylor to turn down an offer to hang out with her and Justin. They don’t need me hanging around, but I do appreciate the offer.
On Sunday Aunt Allie suggests an afternoon matinee, but Dad begs off, saying he’s too tired. We go to a romantic comedy, but it’s bad and we sneak into the next theatre and watch an action flick.
Afterward I climb into the driver’s seat as Aunt Allie opens the passenger door. When I put the key in the ignition, I notice something on the window of the car. I open the door, slide my arm to the front window, grab it, and pull it inside.
My heart stops when I look down at the lumpy package. It’s a bag of Jelly Bellys.
“What’s that? An advertising gimmick?” Aunt Allie asks.
“It must be,” I whisper. Coincidence and nothing more. Nothing more. I toss them over to her lap as if they’re poison ivy leaves.
“Not my favorite,” she says. “I’m more of a chocolate person. But you love these, don’t you?” She picks up the package and rubs it between her fingers. “Hmmmm. Interesting.”
“What?” I yell.
“Nothing.” She glances sideways at me with a tiny smile. “They’re
obviously meant for you. That’s all.”
“Why?” I try not to shriek and ask her what she knows from rubbing the package.
She studies my profile for a moment. “Well you’re the one who likes them. Right?” She smiles when I turn to her. “Plus,” she says. “There’s a message written on the package.” She holds it in the air and then puts the bag down on the console between us.
“What does it say?”
“Sorry.”
I swallow and swallow.
“The swimmer?” she asks.
I don’t answer.
“Is there a health food store nearby?” she asks softly. “I need to pick up some things.”
She punches information into the GPS and finds a store nearby. In the store, she wanders with a shopping basket over her elbow, mumbling and throwing things into it.
When we get home, she starts mixing herbs and spices in jars and pans and Dad mumbles something about witchcraft. She doesn’t mention the Jelly Bellys. But I can’t stop thinking about them.
chapter thirteen
It’s getting easier to block out the angry stares and ignore the nicknames haters whisper when they walk by in the school hallways. Maybe my heart is hardening, but a part of me wonders if it really does have to do with the small sachet of herbs Aunt Allie made me promise to carry in my backpack at all times. Or the message scrawled on the Jelly Bellys. It does seem like there’s a smile and wave of support here and there. I hate to admit it, but it’s nice to know some people don’t think my entire entity sucks.
I’m early and at my locker putting away books, when I look up and see Zee stalking toward me, like a predator about to take down an enemy. I have a terrible feeling the enemy is me and wonder what’s changed from when he almost killed himself doing Parkour. At least then he’d been cordial, if also stupid. Now the intensity of his gaze freezes me in place like a paralyzed bunny. I can only blink as he pounces closer, about to rip me apart limb by limb. He looks scary and I secretly mourn the loss of how he was before.
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