And even though Munoz is used to my erratic behavior by now, he still makes a point of calling on me. Asking me to answer all manner of questions regarding historical events including those that we've studied and those that we haven't. And my mind is so preoccupied with Roman and Damen and my upcoming plans that I just answer robotically, seeing the answers he holds in his head and repeating them pretty much verbatim.
So when he says, "So tell me, Ever, what did I have for dinner last night?"
I automatically say, "Two pieces of leftover pizza and a glass and a half of Chianti." My mind is so ensconced in my own personal dramas it's a moment before I notice he's gaping.
In fact, everyone's gaping.
Well, everyone but Roman who just shakes his head and laughs even harder.
And just as the bell rings and I try to bolt for the door, Munoz steps before me and says, "How do you do it?"
I press my lips together and shrug as though I've no clue what he's talking about. Though it's clear he's not about to let it go, he's been wondering for weeks.
"How do you know stuff'?" he says, his eyes narrowed on mine. "About random historical facts we've never once studied about me ?"
I gaze down at the ground and take a deep breath, wondering what it could hurt to throw him a bone. I mean, I'm leaving tonight, and chances are he'll never remember this anyway, so what harm could it do to tell him the truth?
"I don't know." I shrug. "It's not like I do anything.
Images and information just appear in my head."
He looks at me, struggling with whether or not to believe. And not having the time or desire to try to convince him, but still wanting to leave him with something nice, I say, "For instance, I know you shouldn't give up on your book because it's going to be published someday."
He gapes, his eyes wide, his expression wavering between wild hope and complete disbelief. And even though it kills me to add it, even though the whole idea makes me want to hurl, I know there's something more that needs to be said, it's the right thing to do. Besides, what could it hurt? I mean, I'm leaving anyway, and Sabine deserves to get out and have a little fun. And other than his penchant for Rolling Stones boxers, Bruce Springsteen songs, and his obsession with Renaissance times he seems harmless. Not to mention how it's not going to go anywhere anyway since I specifically saw her getting together with a guy who works in her building "Her name is Sabine," I say, before I have a chance to overthink it and change my mind. Then seeing the confusion in his eyes, I add, "You know, the petite blonde at Starbucks? The one who spilled her latte all over your shirt? The one you can't stop thinking about?"
And when he looks at, me, it's clear that he's speechless. And preferring to leave it like that, I gather my stuff and head toward the door, glancing over my shoulder to say, "And you shouldn't be afraid to talk to her. Seriously. Just suck it up and approach her already. You'll find she's really nice."
CHAPTER 41
When I exit the room, I half expect to find Roman waiting for me with that same taunting gleam in his eye. But he's not And when I get to the lunch tables, I know why.
He's performing. Orchestrating everyone around him, directing everything they say and do like a bandleader, a puppet master, a big-top circus ringleader. And just as the hint of something nudges at the back of my mind, just as an inkling of insight begins to take shape I see him .
Damen.
The love of every single one of my lives, now stumbling toward the lunch table, so unstable, so disheveled and haggard, there's no mistaking that things have progressed at an alarming rate. We are running out of time.
And when Stacia turns, makes a face, and hisses, "Loo-ser!" I'm stunned to realize the taunt is not meant for me.
It's directed at Damen.
And in a matter of seconds, the whole school joins in.
All of the derision once reserved just for me is now directed at him.
I glance at Miles and Haven, watching as they add their voices to the chorus, then I rush toward Damen, alarmed to find his skin so clammy and cold, those once high cheekbones now alarmingly gaunt, and those deep dark eyes that once held such promise and warmth, now watery and rheumy and barely able to focus. And even though his lips are horribly dry and cracked, I still feel an undeniable longing to press mine against them. Because no matter what he looks like, no matter how much he's changed, he's still Damen. My Damen . Young or old, healthy or sick, it doesn't matter. He's the only one I've ever really cared about the only one I've ever lovedand nothing Roman or anyone else does can ever change that.
"Hey," I whisper, my voice cracking as my eyes fill with tears. Tuning out the shrill taunts that surround us as I focus solely on him. Hating myself for turning my back long enough to allow this to happen, knowing he never would've let this happen to me.
He turns toward me, his eyes struggling to focus, and just when I think I've captured a glimmer of recognition it's gone so fast I'm sure I imagined it.
"Let's get out of here," I say, tugging on his sleeve, trying to pull him alongside me. "What do you say we ditch?" I smile, hoping to remind him of our usual Friday routine. Just reaching the gate when Roman appears.
"Why do you bother?" he says, his arms folded, head cocked to the side, allowing his Ouroboros tattoo to flash in and out of view.
I grip Damen's arm and narrow my gaze, determined to get past Roman whatever it takes.
"Seriously, Ever." He shakes his head, glancing from Damen to me. "Why waste your time? He's old, feeble, practically decrepit, and, I'm sorry to say, but from the looks of things, not long for this earth.
Surely you're not planning to waste your sweet young nectar on this dinosaur?"
He looks at me, blue eyes blazing, lips curving, glancing at the lunch table just as the shrill of taunts hits the next level. And just like that I know.
The idea that's been nudging me, poking around the edges, and trying to get my attention, has finally been heard. And even though I'm not sure if I'm right, and knowing I'll have no choice but to slink off in shame if I'm wrong, I take in the crowd, my eyes moving from Miles to Haven to Stacia to Honor to Craig to every single kid who's just going through the motions, following along, doing what everyone else says and does without once stopping to question, without once asking why.
Then I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and focus all of my energy on them when I shout:
"WAKE UP!!!"
Then I stand there, far too ashamed to look now that all of their derision has switched from Damen to me. But I can't let that stop me, I know Roman's performed some sort of mass hypnosis, putting them into some kind of mindless trance where everyone's doing his bidding.
"Ever, please. Save yourself while you still can."
Roman laughs. "Even I can't help you if you insists on continuing."
But I don't listen to him can't listen. I have to find a way to stop him to stop them ! I've got to find a way to wake them all up, get them to snap out of it
Snap/
That's it! I'll just snap my fingers and
I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and yell as loud as I can:
"SNAP OUT OF IT!"
Which only results in my classmates going wild, their ridicule hitting the next level as a profusion of soda cans are hurled at my head.
Roman sighs, looking at me when he says, "Ever, really. I insist. You've got to stop this madness, now!
You're making a bloody Tool of yourself if you think that'll work! What're you gonna do next, slap all their cheeks?"
I stand there, my breath coming in short shallow gasps, knowing I'm not wrong, despite what he says.
I'm sure he's got them spellbound, hijacked their minds by some kind of trance
And then I remember this old documentary I once saw on TV, where the hypnotist brought the patient back not by slapping or snapping but by clapping on the count of three.
I take a deep breath, watching as my classmates climb on top of the table and benches, the better to pelt me with their uneaten food. And I know it's my last chance, that if this doesn't work wellI don't know what I will do.
So I close my eyes, and yell:
"WAKE UP!"
Then I count from three to one and clap my hands twice at the end.
And then
And then nothing.
The whole school goes silent as they slowly come to.
They rub their eyes, blinking, yawning, and stretching as though awakening from a very long nap. Gazing around in confusion, wondering why they're on top of the table with the very same people they once deemed as freaks.
Craig is the first to react. Finding himself so close to Miles their shoulders practically touch, he bolts for the far end. Reassuring himself with the company of his fellow jocks, reclaiming his manhood with a punch on the arm.
And when Haven stares at her carrot sticks with a look of absolute disgust, I can't help but smile, knowing the big happy family is back to their normal routine of name-calling, eye-rolling, and snubbing each other in favor of their usual cliques, returned to a world where animosity and loathing still rule.
My school is back to normal again.
I turn toward the gate, prepared to take Roman down, but he's already gone. So I grip Damen tighter, easing him across the parking lot and into my car as Miles and Haven, the two best friends I've missed so much and will never see again, follow along.
"You guys know I love you, right?" I glance between them, knowing they'll freak, but it has to be said.
They look at each other, exchanging a look of alarm, both of them wondering what could've possibly happened to the girl they once pegged as the Ice Queen.
"Um, okay ..." Haven says, shaking her head.
But I just smile and grasp them both to me, squeezing them tightly as I whisper to Miles, "Whatever you do don't stop acting or singing, it's going to bring you "
I stop, wondering if I should tell him how I just saw a flash of bright lights and Broadway, but not wanting to rob him of the journey by always looking ahead, I say, "It's going to bring you great happiness."
And before he can even respond, I've moved on to Haven, knowing I have to get this over with quick, so I can get Damen to Ava's, but determined to find a way to urge her to love herself more, to stop losing herself in others, and that Josh is worth hanging on to for however long it lasts. "You have so much value," I tell her. "So much to give I just wish you could see how bright your star truly does shine."
"Um, gag!" she says, laughing as she untangles herself from my grip. "Are you okay?" She squints between me and Damen. "And what's up with him? Why's he all hunched over like that?"
I shake my head and climb inside, having no more time to waste. And as I back out of my space, I look out my window and say, "Hey, do you guys know where Roman lives?"
CHAPTER 42
I never imagined I'd be grateful for my sudden growth spurt and newly bulging biceps, but it's because of my new size and strength (not to mention Darnell's emaciated state) that I practically carry him all the way from my car to Ava's front door in just a handful of steps. Supporting his body as I knock on her door, fully prepared to break it down if I have to, but glad when she answers and waves us both in. I head for the hall as Damen stumbles along with me, pausing just outside the indigo door and gaping at Ava when she hesitates to open it.
"If your room is as sacred and pure as you think it is, then don't you think that will only help Damen? Don't you think he needs all the positive energy he can get?" I say, knowing she's conflicted about admitting the "contaminated" energy of a sick and dying man, which is just so ridiculous I hardly know where to begin. She looks at me, holding my gaze far longer than my diminishing patience would prefer, and when she finally gives in, I barrel right past her, getting Damen settled on the futon in the corner and covering his body with the wool throw she keeps nearby. "The juice is in my trunk, along with the antidote," I say, tossing her the keys. "The juice won't be any good for another two days, but he should be much better tonight, when the full moon rises and the antidote is ready. And then you can give him the juice later, to help rebuild his strength. Even though he probably won't even need it since it'll all reverse anyway. But still just in case" I nod, wishing I felt half as confident as I sound.
"Are you sure this'll work?" she asks, watching as I pull my very last bottle of elixir from my bag. "It has to." I gaze at Damen, so pale, so weak, so old. And yet, he's still Damen. Traces of his amazing beauty still present, marred only slightly by the acceleration of years resulting in his silver hair, his nearly translucent skin, the fan of wrinkles surrounding his eyes. "It's our only hope," I add, waving her away as I drop to my knees, the door closing behind me as I smooth his hair off his face and gently force him to drink.
At first he fights it, thrashing his head from side to side and keeping his mouth firmly closed. But when it's clear that I'm not about to give up, he gives in.
Allowing the liquid to flow down his throat as his skin warms and his color returns. Emptying the bottle and gazing at me with such love and reverence, I'm overcome with joy just to know that he's back.
"I missed you," I murmur, nodding and blinking and swallowing hard, my heart bursting with yearning as I press my lips to his cheek. All the pent-up emotions I've fought so hard to keep in check all this time, now rushing to the surface, bubbling over, as I kiss him again and again. "You're going to be okay," I tell him.
"You're going to be back to your old self very soon."
My sudden burst of happiness withering like a popped balloon as his gaze turns dark and sweeps over my face.
"You left me," he whispers.
I shake my head, wanting him to know it's not true. I never left him he left mebut it wasn't his fault and I forgive him. I forgive him for everything he's ever done or saideven though it's already too lateeven though it doesn't really matter anymore But instead I just say, "No. I haven't. You've been ill. Very ill. But it's over with now and soon you'll be better. You just have to promise to drink the antidote when" When Ava gives it to you the words I can't bear to say, won't say, not wanting him to know that this is our last moment togetherour final good-bye. "All you need to know is that you're going to be fine. But you need to watch out for Roman. He's not your friend. He's evil. He's trying to kill you. So you must regain your strength so you can take him down." I press my mouth to his forehead, his cheek, unable to stop until I've covered his entire face with my kiss. Tasting my own salty tears on the curve of his lips, as I breathe him in, hoping to imprint his scent, his taste, the feel of his skin, wanting to carry the memory of him wherever I go.
But even after I tell him I love him even after I lie down beside him, pull him into my arms, and press his body to mineeven after I remain there for hours, lying right alongside him as he sleeps even after I close my eyes and concentrate on melding my energy with his, hoping to heal him with my love, my essence, my very being, trying to impress some small part of myself onto him even after all of thatthe moment I move away, he says it again.
An accusation from his dream state, intended only for me.
"You left me."
Not realizing until I've said my final good-bye and closed the door behind me, that he's not referring to the past.
He's prophesying our future.
CHAPTER 43
I head down the hall and into the kitchen, my heart heavy, my legs wooden, and every step away from Damen just makes it worse.
"You okay?" Ava asks, standing at the stove, brewing some tea. As though all of those hours didn't just pass.
I shake my head and lean against the wall, unsure how to answer, unable to speak. Because the truth is, okay is pretty much the last thing I feel. Empty, hollow, bereft, awful, depressed yes. But okay ? Not so much.
But that's because I'm a criminal. A traitor. I'm the worst kind of person you could ever hope to meet. All of the times I tried to imagine that scene, tried to imagine how my last moment with Damen would be, I never once thought it would end like that.
I never once thought I'd stand accused. Even though I clearly deserve to be.
"You don't have much time." She gazes at the clock on her wall, then at me. "Would you like some tea before you leave?"
I shake my head, knowing I've a few things still to tell her, and a few more stops to make before I go for good.
"So you know what to do?" I ask, seeing her nod as she brings her cup to her lips. "Because I'm trusting you, Ava. If this doesn't work out in the way that I think, if the only tiling that goes back is me, then you're my only hope." My gaze locks on hers, needing her to understand just exactly how serious this all is. "You've got to take care of Damen, he's he doesn't deserve any of this, and" My voice cracks as I press my lips together and avert my gaze. Knowing I've got to go on, that there's still more to say, but needing a moment before I can. "And watch out for Roman. He's good-looking and charming, but it's all a facade. Inside, he's evil, he tried to kill Damen, he's responsible for what he's become." "Don't worry." She moves toward me. "Don't worry about a thing. I got the stuff out of your trunk, the antidote is in the cupboard, the juice isfermenting, and I'll add the herb on the third day like you said.
Not that we'll even need it, since I'm sure everything will go exactly as planned."
I look at her, seeing the sincerity in her eyes, relieved that at least I'm able to leave things in her capable hands.
"So you just get yourself over to Summerland, and I'll take care of the rest," she says, pulling me into her arms and hugging me tightly to her chest. "And who knows? Maybe someday you'll find yourself in Laguna Beach and we'll meet all over again?"
She laughs when she says it and I wish I could laugh along with her, but I can't. The weird tiling about saying good-bye is that it never gets any easier.
I pull away, nodding in place of words, knowing that to say anything more will make me break down completely. Barely managing to eek out a "Thanks," before I'm already at the door.
"You've nothing to be thanking me for," she says, following behind. "But, Ever, are you sure you don't want to peek in on Damen, just one last time?"
I turn, my hand on the doorknob, considering, but only for a moment before I take a deep breath and shake my head. Knowing there's no use in prolonging the inevitable, and far too afraid to risk seeing the accusation on his face.
"We've already said good-bye," I say, stepping onto the porch and moving toward my car. "Besides, I don't have much time. There's still one last stop I need to make."
CHAPTER 44
I turn onto Roman's street, park in his drive, rush toward the door, and kick it right down. Watching the wood crack and splinter as it teeters from its hinges and swings open before me, hoping to catch him off guard, so I can punch all of his chakras and be done with him for good.
I creep inside, my eyes darting around, taking in walls the color of eggshells, ceramic vases filled with silk flowers, poster-sized prints of all the usual suspects Van Gogh's The Starry Night, Gustav Klimt's The Kiss, and an oversized rendition of Botticelli's The Birth of Venus framed in gold and hanging right over the mantel. All of it appearing so surprisingly normal, I can't help but wonder if I've got the wrong house.
I expected grit, edge, a post-apocalyptic pad with black leather couches, chrome tables, an abundance of mirrors, and confusing art something sleeker, hipper, anything but this chintz-ridden fuss palace that's nearly impossible to imagine someone like Roman living in.
I tour the house, checking every room, every closet, even under the bed. But when it's clear he's not home, I head straight for his kitchen, find his supply of immortal juice, and pour it straight down the drain. Knowing it's juvenile, useless, and probably won't make the least bit of difference, since the moment I go back everything will reverse itself again. But even if it adds up to no more than a minor inconvenience, at least he'll know that inconvenience came from me. Then I riffle through his drawers, searching for a piece of scrap paper and a pen, needing to make a list of all the things I can't afford to forget. A simple set of instructions that won't be too confusing for someone who probably won't remember what any of it means, and yet still clear and concise enough to keep me from repeating the same horrible mistakes all over again. Writing:
I. Don't go back for the sweatshirt!
2. Don't trust Drina!
3. Don't go back for the sweatshirt no matter what! And then, just so I don't completely forget, and hoping it might trigger some sort of memory, I add:
4. Damen And after checking it over again (and again), making sure it's all there and that nothing's been missed, I fold it into a square, shove it deep in my pocket, and head for the window, gazing at a sky turned a deep sunless blue, with the moon hanging heavy and full just off to the side. Then I take a deep breath and head for the ugly chintz couch, knowing it's time. I close my eyes and reach toward the light, eager to experience that shimmering glory one final time as I land on those soft blades of grass in that vast fragrant field. Aided by their buoyancy and bounce as I run, skip, and twirl through the meadow, performing cartwheels, back handsprings, and somersaults, my fingertips grazing over those glorious flowers with their pulsating petals and delicious sweet scent as I wind my way through those vibrating trees along the colorful stream. Determined to take it all in, to memorize every last detail, wishing there was some way to capture this wonderful feeling and hold it forever.
And then, because I have a few moments to spare, and because I need to see him one last time, need to be with him in the way that we used to, I close my eyes and manifest Damen.
Seeing him as he first appeared to me in the parking lot at school. Starting with his shiny dark hair that waves around his cheekbones and hits just shy of his shoulders, those almond-shaped eyes so deep, dark, and even, back then, strangely familiar. And those lips! Those ripe inviting lips with their perfect Cupid's bow, followed by the long, lean, muscular body that holds it all up. My memory so potent, so tangible, every nuance, every pore, is present and accounted for.
And when I open my eyes, he's bowing before me, offering his hand in our very last dance. So I place my hand in his as he tucks his arm around my waist, leading me through that glorious field in a series of wide sweeping arcs, our bodies swaying, our feet floating, twirling to a melody heard only by us. And every time he begins to slip from my grasp, I just close my eyes and make him again, resuming our steps without falter. Like Count Fersen and Marie, Albert and Victoria, Antony and Cleopatra, we are all the world's greatest lovers, we are all the couples we've ever been. And I bury my face in the warm sweet hollow of his neck, reluctant to let our song end. But even though there's no time in Summerland, there is where I'm going. And so I run my fingers along the planes of his face, memorizing the softness of his skin, the curve of his jaw, and the swell of his lips as they press against mine convincing myself that it's himreally him! Even long after he's faded and gone.
The moment I head out of the field, I find Romy and Rayne waiting right by the edge, and from the looks on their faces I know they've been watching. "You're running out of time," Rayne says, staring at me with those saucer-sized eyes that never fail to set me on edge.
But I just shake my head and pick up the pace, annoyed to know they've been spying, and tired of the way they keep butting in.
"I've got it all covered," I say, glancing over my shoulder. "So feel free to " I pause, having no idea what they do when they're not bothering me. So I lift my shoulders and leave it at that, knowing whatever they're up to, it no longer concerns me. They run alongside me, peering at each other, communicating in their private twin speak before saying, "Something's not right." They stare at me, urging me to listen. "Something feels terribly wrong." Their voices blending together in perfect harmony. But I just shrug, not the least bit interested in cracking their code, and when I see those marble steps before me, I storm straight ahead, glimpsing the world's most beautiful structures, before rushing right in. The twins' voices silenced by the doors closing behind me as I stand in the grand marble entry, eyes closed tight, hoping I won't be shut out like the last time, hoping I can go back in time. Thinking: I'm ready. I'm really and truly ready. So please, let me go back. Back to Eugene, Oregon. Back to my mom and dad and Riley and Buttercup. Please just let me return. . . and set everything straight again ... And the next tiling I know a short hallway appears, leading to a room at the end a room that's empty except for a stool and a desk. But not just any old desk, this is one of those long metal desks like the kind we had in the chem lab at my old school. And as I slide onto the seat, a large crystal globe levitates before me, flickering and flaring until it settles on an image of me, sitting at this same metal desk, struggling over a science test. And even though it's pretty much the last scene I ever would've chosen to repeat, I know it's the only opportunity I'll ever get to return. So I take a deep breath, press my finger to the screenand gasp as everything around me goes black.
CHAPTER 45
"O migod. I totally flunked that," Rachel groans, tossing her wavy brown hair over her shoulder and rolling her eyes. "I mean, I barely even studied last night. Seriously. And then I stayed up late texting" She looks at me, her eyes wide as she shakes her head. "Anyway. All you need to know is that my life as we know it is over. So take a good look at me now because as soon as those grades are posted and my parents find out, I'll be grounded for life. Which means this is pretty much the last you'll see of me." "Please." I roll my eyes. "If anyone flunked, we both know it's me. I've been lost in that class all year! And it's not like I'm going to be a scientist or anything. It's not like I'm ever going to use the information." I stop just shy of her locker, watching as she unlocks it and tosses a pile of books inside.
"I'm just glad it's over and that grades won't be out until next week. Which means I better live it up while I can. And speaking of what time should I swing by tonight?" she asks, brows raised so high they're hidden under her bangs.
I shake my head and sigh, realizing I haven't told her yet and knowing she's gonna be mad. "About that..." I walk alongside her as we head for the parking lot, tucking my long blond hair behind my ear as I say, "Slight change of plans. My mom and dad are going out and I'm supposed to babysit Riley." "And how is that a slight change of plans?" Rachel stops just short of the lot, her eyes scanning the rows of cars, determined to see who's riding with who. "Well, I thought maybe after she goes to sleep, you can come over and " But I stop, not bothering to finish since it's clear she's not listening. The second I mentioned my little sister, I lost her. Rachel's that rare only child who's never once fantasized about having a brother or sister. Sharing the spotlight just isn't her thing.
"Forget it," she says. "Little people have sticky fingers and big ears, you can't trust 'em. How about tomorrow?"
I shake my head. "Can't. It's family day. We're all heading up to the lake."
"See." Rachel nods. "That's exactly the kind of stuff you don't have to deal with when your parents split. In our house, family day is when we all meet in court to fight over the child support check."
"You don't know how lucky you are," I say, regretting the joke the second it's out. Because not only is it a total lie, but something about it leaves me feeling so sad and guilty I wish I could take it right back.
But it's not like Rachel was listening anyway. She's too busy trying to get the attention of the amazing Shayla Sparks, who's pretty much the coolest senior to ever walk the halls of this school. Frantically waving and stopping just short of jumping up and down and screaming like a groupie, hoping to get Shayla's attention as she loads up her sky-blue VW Bug with all her cool friends. Then lowering her hand and pretending to scratch at her ear as though she's not the least bit embarrassed when Shayla fails to acknowledge her.
"Trust me, that car's not so great," I say, checking my watch and gazing around the lot, wondering just where the heck Brandon is since he really should've been here by now. "The Miata drives better." "Excuse me?" Rachel peers at me, her brows knit together in complete disbelief. "And since when have you driven either one?"
I squint, hearing the words repeat in my head and having no idea why I just said them. "Um, I didn't." I shrug. "I I guess I must've read it somewhere." She looks at me, her eyes narrowed as they work their way down my outfit, grazing over my black V-neck sweater and down to my jeans that are dragging on the ground. "And where'd you get this ?" She grasps my wrist.