"Your dad is so great. He spent weeks making that thing, and all because we told him how cool it'd be to have a haunted house in the yard."
"Yeah. Dad's awesome." She pauses. "He's your dad too, you know. He thinks of you more as his kid than his niece."
It's true but I don't want to talk about it. It's like my mom leaving. It's one of those things that doesn't make sense. Why is Uncle Roy nice to me but Aunt Nora isn't? Why does she hate me so much? I've never done anything to make her not like me. I don't fight with her. I don't even talk to her much.
Not wanting to get into some deep discussion about family, I say, "I can't believe you're making me going to a cemetery at night."
"We're going to a house, not a cemetery. And there's a big fence around it to keep the zombies out," she kids.
"It's not just the zombies that freak me out. It's the whole death thing. Death freaks me out."
"Really? I never even think about it."
"I don't either until I pass a cemetery. Then I think about all those people who used to be alive and now they're just dead bodies lying under some dirt."
"That's really morbid. You're starting to sound like a goth chick."
"I'm not goth!" I say.
"Then prove it and wear a different color than fucking black."
I gasp. "You cursed!"
"Damn right I did. Because I'm tired of all the fucking black."
I gasp again, then burst out laughing. She's laughing too. I love her so much. And I miss not having her as a roommate. She joined the sorority last year but waited a year to move into the house. This is the first time we've lived apart since we were kids.
"I wish you hadn't joined that fucking sorority," I say, still laughing. So is she. Once we start, it's hard to stop.
"Stop cursing! I'm laughing so hard you're going to make me go off the road."
"Good," I say between laughs. "Then we wouldn't have to go to that damn party by the fucking cemetery."
"Okay, seriously, stop," she says, taking a breath. "Hold your cursing until we're there. And then you can swear like a sailor."
I take a breath. "Do sailors really swear that much? I feel like they're unfairly stereotyped for that, because really, who knows what profession swears the most? Could be dentists. Plumbers. Or piano teachers."
"Piano teachers?" She laughs. "Why piano—no, forget it. Your answer will make me laugh and I can't laugh right now. I need to pay attention to where we're going."
"I thought you knew how to get there."
"I do." She straightens up, focusing on the road. "I think the bridge is just up ahead and then it'll be right after that."
"So are you hoping to meet someone tonight? Maybe a preppy frat boy with a fake German accent?"
"German?" She looks over at me. "Why German?"
"You didn't like the fake English accent. I thought maybe German would be more your thing."
She laughs. "No fake accents. And no preppy frat guys."
"You have to find someone. We've been back at school for over a month and you haven't dated anyone."
She pauses, then says, "Actually I have."
"You have?" I ask, surprised. "Who?"
"A guy I met in town. He's not a student but he's really smart." She smiles. "And really hot."
"When did you meet this guy?"
"When I moved back to town. Before classes started."
"And you're just telling me this now?" I say, tossing my hands up. "After dating him for over a month?"
"I didn't want to jinx it."
"Jinx it? How would telling me jinx it?"
"You know how sometimes you tell someone really good news and then right afterward something bad happens to ruin it?"
"Uh, no. I've never experienced that."
"Well, it can happen, and I didn't want it to. Everything is going so great between us," she says in a dreamy voice. "I don't want anything to change."
"Amy, what the hell?" I turn to her. "Are you in love with this guy?"
She glances at me. "I am. I love him."
"You're in love and you didn't tell me?"
"We decided to keep it quiet until we'd had more time to be together. Just the two of us. We knew people would say we're not a good match and shouldn't be together, and we weren't ready for that. We wanted some time where it was just us, and people weren't offering up their opinions."
"Amy, you know I wouldn't do that. You know I'd support whoever you want to be with."
"I know. And I was going to tell you but I kept putting it off."
"Why? Because of the whole jinx thing?"
"Not just that."
"Then what?"
She smiles. "There's something about having a secret romance—something nobody else knows about—that's kind of sexy, in a forbidden kind of way."
"But it's not forbidden. You can date whoever you want."
"Technically, yes, but my parents wouldn't approve of him, or at least my mom wouldn't."
"Then keep it a secret from her, not me. We tell each other everything. So nobody else knows about this?"
"His friend knows, but only because he caught us together. They share an apartment and we thought his friend was at work but he got off early and found us at the apartment together. But that's it. Just him, and now you."
"So tell me about him. I want all the details. What's he look like? Or what's his name? Let's start with that."
Her phone dings from the cupholder. I snatch it up but only in time to read the name, not the text.
"Put it down," she says, reaching for it.
"Kermit?" I say, smiling at her. "His name's Kermit? Like the frog?"
She tries to suppress her smile, but can't. "It's a nickname. We gave each other nicknames. It's part of our secret romance."
"Why Kermit?"
"Because when I met him his clothes were covered in grass. He'd been mowing the grass and it stuck to his clothes. The green reminded me of Kermit."
"What's your nickname? Miss Piggy?"
"No, but that's good. I should've gone with that."
"So what is it? What's the name?"
"Smurfette. And before you make fun of it, it's all because of you. He saw the picture on my phone of me with that blue hair."
I laugh. “That's not a bad thing. Smurfette’s hot. All the Smurfs wanted her. But didn’t she have blond hair?”
"What did it say?" she asks. "The text?"
"I don't know. It went away before I could read it. I only saw the name." I hold the phone out to her. "Here. Read it."
"Not while I'm driving. You know the rule."
"Nobody's around. You're not going to hit anyone."
"I'll just wait until we're at the party."
"What if it's urgent?" I wiggle the phone by her face. "An urgent text to tell you how much he loves you?"
"That's sweet, but not urgent."
"Does he tell you that? That he loves you?"
"All the time."
"And you say it back?"
"I do," she says, using that dreamy tone again.
"Amy, I can't believe you didn't tell me this!" I lean back in my seat, still holding her phone. "I'm really mad at you right now. So mad I'm going to read his text."
"You can't. You don't know my passcode."
"No, but I can guess it." I take a moment to think of what she might use. I type in her mom's birthday. It doesn't work.
"Skye, stop it," she says, reaching for her phone. "I told you I'd check it later."
"Check it now. I want to know what he said."
"Not while I'm driving."
"C'mon. It'll take two seconds. I'll watch the road while you check."
"No. Just forget it."
"Okay, but I warned you." I type in her dog's birthday. The dog's been dead for years but she loved that dog and still talks about him. The dog's birthday works and her phone unlocks. "Ha! Told you I'd figure it out!"
"Skye, don't! Don't read it!"
"I won't if you will."
>
"Fine. Give it to me."
I hand her the phone. Her eyes bounce from the road to the phone. "You had to do this right as we get to the bridge?"
"Relax. There's nobody on it. So what does it say?"
Her thumb moves over her phone, her eyes glancing up just briefly to check the road before going back to her phone.
Her brows draw together and her eyes lock on the screen.
"No," she whispers.
"No?" I notice the car swerve and take hold of the wheel, straightening us out. "What happened? What does it say?"
She doesn't answer, still staring at the phone.
"What is it? Did he break up with you?"
She looks up at the road, her eyes distant.
"Amy, what's going on?"
She looks at her phone again. "We have to go back."
"Back? Why? What happened?"
I feel the car swerve and look up at the road.
"Amy, watch out!" I say as I see us heading toward the guardrail.
The car slams into it and my head bangs against the side window.
I hear Amy scream as I feel the car jerk up and then down. Straight down.
All I can see is darkness. No road. No stars. Just darkness. And waves. The river. We're going in the river. I can see the water approaching but I can't do anything to stop it. Or stop the screaming coming from Amy.
"Amy!" I yell as I try to find her, my arms flailing around. My head's throbbing from slamming against the window and I feel lightheaded.
The car slams into the water, then plunges deep within it, so far I can't see the surface. Only darkness. I had my window down a little when we were driving and water is seeping in. I can feel it on my arm. Down my leg. Or maybe that's blood. I can't tell. Is this even happening? Is this real?
"Amy!" I reach for her, my head suddenly clearing. "Amy!"
She's quiet now. She's no longer screaming. Why isn't she screaming?
"Amy!" I feel her arm bump mine as I struggle with my seatbelt. "Amy, say something!"
Water pours through the window. I feel it seeping down my neck, down my shirt, soaking through my jeans.
"Oh, God," I say in full panic mode now, frantically searching for Amy. My arm bangs against hers in the water. It's limp, like she's unconscious. She must've got knocked out on the way down. "Amy!"
Now free from my seatbelt, I move over and work to free Amy. "I'm getting us out," I tell her. "I promise. Just hold on."
The water is now up to my knees. I yank at her seatbelt and finally get it off.
"Amy, wake up," I say, shaking her. But she doesn't move.
The water is coming in faster now, filling the car. I move back to my seat and try to open the door but can't. I have to break the window. It's our only way out. Reaching to the back seat, I search for something I could use to break the glass. An umbrella. Ice scraper. Flashlight. But there's nothing there. It's all in the trunk. Amy's a neat freak and doesn't like stuff cluttering up the back seat. We share the car so I didn't argue with her about it but now I wish I had. I open the glove compartment and the center console. Nothing’s in there either. Shit!
The water is now up to my waist. It's freezing cold and making me shiver. Making me feel like my heart's about to stop. Or maybe it's my fear making me feel that way. The sheer terror of knowing we'll be dead within seconds if I don't get us out of here.
Moving so that I'm facing the passenger door, I place my heavy black boots against the window. I put my hands on Amy's arm rest and lift myself up as far out of the water as I can. I draw my feet back toward me, then shove them against the window as hard as I can. I feel the glass break but when I go to check, I find the bottom half of the window is still there. As water rushes into the car, I draw my legs back again and use all my weight to slam into the glass. I feel it break, and when I reach over to check, it's gone except for some fragments which sting my hand as they slice through my skin.
The car is now sinking fast as the water fills it. I swim over to Amy and yank on her. She doesn't respond, still unconscious.
How am I going to do this? How do I get us both out? I can swim but I'm not great at it. And I've never swam in a river, with a current. Or at night in the dark. In freezing cold water.
I shove my boots off and my leather jacket. It makes me even colder but I can't swim with all that added weight. I grab Amy under her arms and swim backwards, cutting myself on the window as I try to get us out. I manage to free myself, then Amy, and am about to swim away when I feel something tugging on us, holding us back. I yank on Amy but part of her is stuck. I kick next to her leg and feel her foot against the window. It's her boot that's stuck. She's wearing short brown boots with a buckle on the side. I convinced her to buy them a few weeks ago at the mall. She wasn't sure about the buckle but I told her it was cute. Now I wish I hadn't because that damn buckle is stuck on something.
Kicking at her boot, I try to get it off her but it won't budge. I kick it over and over until it finally breaks free.
My lungs are burning, desperate for air. I've never held my breath this long. I have to keep fighting the urge to inhale. I don't know how much longer I can do it. I have no idea where the shoreline is or how I'm going to get there while holding Amy and fighting the current and frigid water.
Using every ounce of strength I have left, I pull my legs up then shove them down, propelling us upward but not by much. I reposition Amy, holding her with one arm while using the other one to help get us up to the surface. I see a slight glimmer of light from the bridge so I know we're close.
My lungs are on fire now but I force my arms and legs to move, propelling us upward toward the light. A wave bounces over me and I feel air. Cold, but sweet wonderful air. I gasp for breath, choking in water as the waves rush over me. I keep my legs moving, trying to tread water as I shove Amy's head up over the waves.
"Amy, breathe," I say but she's still knocked out. I'm sure by now her lungs are filled with water but I can't help her yet. We need to get to shore.
I search for it and see it right behind me. We're close. Really close. Keeping hold of Amy, I swim backwards toward the shore, trying to keep both our heads above the water.
"We're almost there," I tell her. "Just hold on."
A wave shoves me forward and pushes me under the water. It disorients me, and when I come to the surface again, I'm lost, panicked, not sure where I am. I turn back and feel relief when I see the shore.
"Almost there," I say to Amy, but then realize I'm not holding her anymore. "Amy!" I scream, my throat raw and burning. "Amy!" I see her just ahead, floating away from me. "Amy, wake up!" I swim toward her but the waves keep pushing her away. "Amy! Come back!"
I feel the current pushing me forward, then another big wave goes over my head, burying me in the dark water. Frantically swimming to the surface, I look up and can't see Amy anywhere.
"Amy!" I scream but she can't hear me. She can't see me. She's out cold.
What do I do? I can't leave her out there but I don't think I'll make it back if I try to go get her. My body is bruised and bleeding and my lungs are struggling to breathe. I don't have the strength to keep fighting this current. I have to get to shore. Then I can get her help. Except who's going to help us? There's nobody here and I don't have a phone.
I have to try to save her. If I don't, nobody else will. There isn't time. She's floating down the river and will drown if I don't get to her.
"Down there!" I hear someone yell. I look up and see people on the bridge. It looks like two people, maybe three.
"Help!" I wave my hand but it's quickly covered by a swell of water. "Help!" I try to scream but my voice is too weak.
"Right there!" someone yells from the bridge. "Call for help!"
Relief washes over me. They're getting help. I don't know how they found us, but they did and help is coming. They'll find Amy and get her out. They'll save her.
I look back and see the shore just a few feet away. I barely have the strength to
move but I force my arms and legs to swim against the current. When I feel solid ground, I grab the tall weeds along the shore and pull myself up out of the water, then collapse back on the ground. The wind whips around me and I feel raindrops falling on my skin. I shiver and can't stop.
Sirens blare. They're close. It won't be long now.
My body hurts. So does my head. My mind feels foggy, and for a moment I think I might be in a dream. My eyes fall shut and I see blackness again. Nothing but blackness.
When my eyes open again, it's not me doing it. It's someone else, holding my eyelid as they shove a light at my eye.
"She's still with us," a man says as he lets go of my eyelid and does the same to the other, "but she needs emergency care, stat."
My eye falls shut as he backs away but I can still feel him beside me. He's covering me with a blanket. A really heavy blanket.
"Any news on the other girl?" someone asks.
"Yeah," the man beside me says. "They found her downstream a ways."
"And?"
"She didn't make it."
2
One Year Later
Skye
As I approach the bridge I get that feeling again. That tightness in my chest that makes me feel like I'm suffocating. Like there's clamps around my lungs and someone keeps tightening them. It happens every time I go over this bridge, which is why I try to avoid it. I'll drive ten miles out of the way just to avoid having to go over—or even just pass by—this bridge.
The bridge where my cousin died.
My best friend.
Because of me.
I've had to live with that every day for a year now. Every damn day I hear her voice in my head. I hear her laughing. Telling a funny story. Singing along to songs on the radio. I can't get her out of my head. Some would say that's a good thing. That I always have her with me. But to me, it's just a reminder that she's gone. That I'll never see her again. And that I killed her.
I killed my best friend. I told her to check her phone after she told me, more than once, she didn't want to. But I insisted she read that text. While we were driving. At night. In the rain. On a bridge.
With Every Breath Page 2