My hand moves.
I feel everything.
And realize Katelyn now feels nothing.
The pencil drops to the ground. I breathe. But Katelyn doesn’t. My eyes stare into hers.
And at the same time, we both say, “I’m sorry.”
CHAPTER 30
“Aspen, baby?” Ninny’s voice comes through my ears. “Oh my God, what’s going on?”
I’m lying on the floor of my room. My charcoal pencil is in my hand. Ninny pulls it out of my grip. She wipes my wet cheeks.
“Why were you late?” I whisper, barely seeing her through my tears. “I needed you. You promised you’d never do that to me again. After Taos, you promised.” My voice sounds faint, like something hushed off in the distance. Ninny scoops me up, rocking me back and forth like a baby, petting my hair over and over.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” Ninny whispers the words in my ear. It’s those words again. But they don’t hurt anymore. She picks me off the ground and lays me down in bed. “I’m right here, baby,” Ninny says, grabbing my hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Ninny covers me with layers of blankets. She lies down next to me, running her fingers through my hair, and then Ninny starts to sing in my ear. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey. You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.”
My toes warm first, followed by my legs. Before I fall asleep, I look at the Grove. A new sketch hangs on my wall. I don’t remember hanging it up. A beautiful girl with long brown hair and eyes that sparkle.
And at that moment, the screaming stops.
Everything hurts, inside and out. I lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind quiet for the first time in months. Ninny knocks twice on the door and then walks in.
“Do you want some pizza?” she asks in a whisper. She’s carrying a Domino’s box like a delivery person.
“No, thanks.” I sit up, and Ninny places the box on the end of my bed.
Her face is tight, her eyes pulling downward like last night aged her ten years. She looks down at her hands. “You know why I was so sad after I got back from Taos?”
“Because Uncle Steve left you.”
Ninny shakes her head, her eyes never leaving her hands. “I couldn’t believe I did to you what my parents did to me. I left you. I was ashamed, Aspen-tree. And when I got the call about the accident . . . ” Ninny trails off, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Every parent knows they aren’t supposed to outlive their babies. And I came so close that night.”
“But I needed you. I still need you.”
“I felt so guilty.” Her face collapses into her hands.
“Guilty?”
“I was so mad that you almost died.” Ninny looks up at me. “Because I needed you. I bought you that car to begin with. I should’ve made you get something safer, something with air bags. But I was trying to do what my parents didn’t. To give you freedom.”
“I don’t want freedom. I just want a mom,” I say.
Ninny grabs my cheeks and focuses her eyes on me. “I don’t deserve you. I’m gonna change, baby. I am.” Ninny brushes a few curls from my face. “I’m so sorry.”
Her hair hangs long down her back. There are random braids throughout. I touch a hole in the neckline of her shirt. And I realize for the first time how much strength it must have taken for Ninny to raise me by herself. How she accepted her past mistakes and moved forward. She might be the strongest person I know, with or without the punctuality.
Ninny wraps one of my curls around her finger and opens the pizza box. “I got your favorite. Olives and extra cheese. Sure you aren’t hungry?”
We sit back on my bed and eat, the pizza box between us. Ninny picks the cheese from her pizza and sets it aside. “Ben was here earlier,” she says, staring down at her pizza-turned-breadstick.
I sit up straighter. “What did he want?”
“To see you. He looked bad, Aspen. And it would take quite a beating to make that boy look bad.”
The pizza turns sour in my mouth. I set my piece aside.
“It’s just so complicated.”
Ninny holds up her hands in surrender. “I’m not going to tell you your business. You’re old enough to make your own choices when it comes to boys. But can I give you one piece of advice?” When I nod, Ninny scoots next to me on the bed, resting her head on my shoulder, and continues, “Life is complicated, baby. But that’s what makes it worth it. You asked me once what love is, and I said I didn’t know. But that wasn’t true. It’s hard to believe in something you can’t see, Aspen. I’ve never been good at it. But I know the wind blows, even if I can’t see it. Sometimes what we feel can’t be defined, because it would take every word, every sound, every emotion ever created to do it. That’s what I think love is. And some people don’t think teenagers are capable of understanding that kind of thing, but I’m here to tell you, that’s total bullshit. They’re the most capable. And I should know. I fell in love at sixteen.”
“With who?”
“You, baby.”
Ninny wraps her arms around me and I curl into her, letting her familiar smell envelop me. “How’s it going with your distraction from Whole Foods?”
“I’m done with distractions for a while. I’ve got a more important person to focus on right now.”
I nuzzle into Ninny more, pressing my face into her shirt, her patchouli oil filling my nose. “Mom?”
“Yes.”
“Could you maybe take the van in for a detail? It’s about time we got rid of the ice cream stain.”
“Whatever you want, baby.”
“Thanks.”
“No, Aspen, thank you,” she whispers in my ear.
Ninny calls me out of school the next day, claiming I’m sick, which isn’t that big of a stretch. I did end up lying on my bedroom floor after drawing a dead girl. She should probably have me locked up in the loony bin.
I’m watching The Price is Right and eating candy from Ninny’s secret stash when there’s a knock at the door. I groan and ignore it. A few seconds later, the back door flies open, thudding against the wall. It scares the shit out of me, and I jump on the couch. Kim and Cass walk into the house, arms crossed over their chests.
“Skipping school without us? What the fuck?” Kim says.
“I’m sick.” I cough once.
Cass comes over to me and places his hand on my forehead. “You don’t feel like you have a fever. I think you’d better get naked so I can make sure.”
“You’re sick.” I swat his hand away.
“No, you’re sick. I’m a guy.” Cass smiles at me.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?” I ask.
“It’s Senior Skip Day.” Kim sits down on the couch next to me.
“It is?”
“Well, technically, no.” Cass says, sitting on my other side. “But we’re pretending.”
“Is this like my un-birthday celebration?”
“Skipping on actual Senior Skip Day is for fucking amateurs. Why would you skip a day of school when the entire grade is gone? No teacher is going to teach a class to one person. It’s the best day to be in school.”
“So you skipped today for me?” Kim nods, resting her head on my shoulder. “Kim Jong Uma’s gonna kill you.”
“She can’t kill me. I’m going to fucking Stanford. She’d never jeopardize that.”
“I love Senior Skip Day,” I say as all three of us sit together in the quiet of my house, watching The Price is Right. When the show ends, I turn off the TV. “I have an idea.”
I run up to my room and grab my iPod. Back in the living room, I hook it into the stereo and sit back down with my friends. When “Strawberry Fields Forever” by the Beatles comes through the speakers, Kim and Cass smile.
“I buried Paul,” Cass imitates.
Halfway through the song, Kim says, “I think I’ve decided what name I want to use at Stanford next year, an
d it’s fucking perfect.”
“Let me guess . . . Candy. No, wait, wait. Destiny,” Cass says.
Kim swats him in the arm. “I’ve decided I like the name Kim. Kim Choi is going to Stanford.”
“Finally,” Cass says.
We sit together, listening to music for hours, until the sun has moved toward the mountains and it’s almost dusk. Kim braids my hair. Cass eats Cheetos until his fingers are orange. We don’t talk about what happened. But they don’t look at me with puppy dog eyes, either, wondering if I might break apart again. It’s as if my best friends know what I need right now is not to talk about the past, about what happened a few days ago or a few months ago, but to be reminded of the present.
When they leave, I stop Cass and say, “Do you think you could help me put together an art portfolio?”
“Why?”
“I think I might apply to college.” I shrug my shoulders. “I hear video game designers have better 401Ks than employees at Shakedown Street.”
Cass smiles, a wide grin. “Sure.”
At that moment, my fear of losing Kim and Cass lessens. No matter where we go, even if we’re dead and buried and all that’s left is our breath floating over the mountains, we’ll still be friends.
Ninny comes home from her shift at Shakedown Street with a bag of groceries and a determined look on her face. She’s making dinner, she proclaims. She even cleans up the kitchen without me.
“It’s a start,” she says, wiping down the counter.
I smile. “I hear that’s the only place to begin.”
Later that night, I stand in front of the Grove looking at Katelyn, my dictionary out on my desk. I see Suzy pop up in the doorframe. The makeup she’s usually wearing is wiped clean, and I can tell she’s been crying.
“Can I come in?” she asks in a shaky voice.
Suzy doesn’t wait for a response; she comes rushing into my room and hugs me.
“I’m so sorry, Aspen. I should have told you,” she whispers. “Katelyn told me she wanted to kill herself, and I didn’t believe her. It was just once. And then I got the text message that night. When Ben told me everything that happened, I knew it was my fault. If I’d just done something more . . . ”
I hug Suzy tighter, knowing the pain Suzy’s held onto for months. And the guilt. I know what that feels like.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I say, pulling back from her. Then, for the first time, I utter the truth. “And it wasn’t my fault or Ben’s fault. It was Katelyn’s.”
The words echo around inside of me. For a while, Suzy and I sit in silence, letting the moment sink in.
“Do you think it will ever go away?” Suzy asks, resting her head on my shoulder.
I take a second and answer truthfully. “No. I don’t think it will. We’ll have to live with it. But that’s the point. We live with it.”
After Suzy leaves, I grab the sketch of Katelyn from my wall. I open my dictionary and flip to a word. I’ve been waiting for this moment all year.
The end: the final point, finish.
I write the definition on the back of my sketch and hang Katelyn back in the Grove, so she can be a part of all the pieces that make up my life. Then I stand back and admire my work. Even the blank spaces. All the choices I have left to make. My future of unexpected and unintentional moments.
I don’t think the Grove will ever be complete. That’s the funny thing about endings. They’re usually the start of something new.
CHAPTER 31
Ben is standing by the bike racks when I pull up to school in my Rabbit. His shoulders are hunched, and dark circles rim his eyes. When he sees my car, he stands up straighter.
“You drove,” he says, walking up to me.
“Riding bikes is for losers and seven-year-olds.” I repeat Suzy’s words.
“I like your bike.”
“That’s because you get to ride on my pegs.”
“I like riding your pegs.” Ben smiles. “I mean, I like riding on your pegs.”
I laugh and kick the ground with my shoe.
Ben steps closer to me and grabs my hand. I don’t pull away. His palm is warm, like every other part of him. “Aspen, I’m so sorry. I never should have—”
But I cut him off.
“I think I’m in love with you.” My heart pounds. In a good way. A bursting way.
I take a tube of Chapstick from my pocket and apply a layer to my lips. Holding it out to Ben, I ask, “Do you want to share my Chapstick?”
He takes it from me and puts some on his own lips, a smile spreading on his face. “Well, now that we’ve officially shared Chapstick, I guess I should tell you that I love you, too,” Ben says, taking his finger and wiping my bottom lip.
“Does this mean you’re my boyfriend?”
“I prefer lab partner. It’s more intimate. There’s studying involved, after all.” I elbow Ben in the side as we walk into school, hand in hand.
“Well, lab partner, will you do something with me after school?”
Ben stops, taking my face between his warm hands. “Anything,” he says.
When he leans in to kiss me, I don’t hesitate. I kiss him back. I know people will stare at us, but I don’t care. They’ve been staring all year.
Ninny and Ben sit in my car. They both promise they’ll be here when I get out.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Ninny says.
“Me neither,” Ben says.
I shake out my hands at my sides. I’m nervous to be back here. Walking in the office building front doors, the familiar smell of hand sanitizer hits my nose. It tickles like I might sneeze.
Dr. Brenda’s office doesn’t look different, except for the addition of a few new snow globes. I pick one up and spin it around in my hand.
“It’s good to see you, Aspen.”
“It’s good to see you, too.” And it is. I like Dr. Brenda, even if her analogies are terrible and her hoarding problem seems to be getting worse. I guess we all have our things.
She points to the couch, the spot where I’ve sat a handful of times before. But it’s never been like this. I sit down slowly, clasping my hands in my lap.
“Where should we start?” I ask.
“The beginning is usually the best place.” Dr. Brenda takes out her notebook and sets it on her lap.
I settle back in my seat, finding a comfortable position, knowing this might take awhile. But I’m ready. Finally.
“Katelyn Ryan sat in front of me in chemistry. I’d stare at the back of her head and wonder what it would be like to have straight brown hair instead of the curly, dirty blonde mess that protrudes from my head, like a perm on a troll doll.”
Dr. Brenda laughs and makes a note. “What else?”
“She asked to borrow a pencil once.”
“Did you give it to her?”
“No,” I say. “I’m not very good at sharing.”
THE END
Acknowledgments
First and always, I want to thank my husband, Kyle, for his never-ending love and support. Even when I don’t think I have it in me, he does. This book would not be without him.
To Claire Heffron, the strongest person I know, who read this story from the beginning, who knew Aspen like she was her best friend, who reviewed draft after draft and held my hand and always answered my phone calls—you are a gift to me.
Thank you to my wonderful, amazing, determined interns Riki and Tawney. You joined this ride without knowing where it would go and never lost faith. You dedicated your time, your mind, your love to this book and for that I am eternally grateful.
Carey Albertine, you are a goddess. You saw the writer I wanted to be even when I couldn’t see it. Thank you isn’t enough, but it’s a good place to start.
Genevieve Gagne-Hawes, your enthusiasm for this story kept me afloat at times. We will meet for drinks some day when we are both in New York City and I’m buying.
Thank you to Saira Rao for being the energizer bunny of publishing. I don’t k
now a person more determined than you. And I’m proud to be part of your genius.
Thank you to my writing therapist, Cara Vescio, who kept my head on straight. You are the Joey to my Chandler.
To every blogger, every fan, every person who helped spread the word about this book. You make the difference— and I couldn’t be more thankful.
And to Caroline—who stayed.
About Rebekah Crane
Rebekah Crane fell in love with Young Adult literature while studying Secondary English Education at Ohio University. After having two kids, living in six different cities, and finally settling down in the foothills of her beloved Rocky Mountains, her first novel, Playing Nice, was published. She now spends her day carpooling kids or tucked behind a laptop at 7,500 ft high in the Rockies, where the altitude only enhances the experience. Aspen is her second novel.
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Other Books by In This Together Media
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Young Adult (14+):
Aspen Page 21