No, actually it's much worse than that I feel mortified, disgraced, horrified, dishonored, and everything else that defines wanting to slink off in shame.
"It's not what you think," I say, meeting his gaze and silently urging him to believe it. "Despite whatever stories Damen might've told you, it's not at all what it appears to be," I add, hearing Mr. Robins sigh along with the thoughts in his head. How he wishes he could share how lost he felt when his wife and daughter walked out, how he never thought he'd make it through another day but fearing it's inappropriate, which it is.
"If you just give yourself some time, focus your attention on something else," he says, sincerely wanting to help me, and yet afraid of overstepping his bounds. "You'll soon find that "
The bell rings.
I shift my backpack onto my shoulder, press my lips together, and look at him.
Watching as he shakes his head and says, "Fine. I'll write you a tardy pass. You're free to go."
CHAPTER 21
I'm a YouTube star. Apparently the footage of me untangling myself from a seemingly never-ending string of Victoria's Secret bras, thongs, and garter belts has not only earned me the oh so clever nickname of Spaz but has also been viewed 2323 times. Which just happens to be the number of students enrolled here at Bay View. Well, with a few of the faculty members tossed in. It's Haven who tells me. Finding her at her locker after barely making it through a gauntlet of people shouting, "Hey, Spaz! Don't fall, Spaz!" she's kind enough not only to fill me in on the origin of my newfound celebrity but to lead me to the video so I can watch the spectacle of myself spazzing out right there on my iPhone.
"Oh, that's just great," I say, shaking my head, knowing it's the least of my problems, but still. "It's pretty fuggin' bad," she agrees, closing her locker and looking at me with an expression that could only be read as pity well, pity on a time crunch with only a few seconds to spare for a spaz like me. "Soanything else? 'Cause I need to get going, I promised Honor I'd"
I look at her, I mean, really look at her. Seeing how the flamered stripe in her hair is now pink, and how her usual pale-skinned, darkly clad, Emo look has been swapped for the spray-tanned, sparkle-dress, fluffy-haired ensemble of those same cliquey clones she always made fun of. But despite her new dress code, despite her new A-list membership, despite all the evidence presented before me, I still don't believe she's responsible for anything she wears, says, or does at this point. Because even though Haven has a tendency to latch on to others and mimic their ways she still has her standards. And I know for a fact that the Stacia and Honor brigade is one group she never aspired to join.
But still, knowing all that doesn't make it any easier to accept. And even though I know it's useless, even though it clearly won't change a thing, I still look at her and say, "I can't believe you're friends with them. I mean, after everything they've done to me." I shake my head, wanting her to know just how much that hurts.
And even though I hear her response a few seconds earlier, it does little to soften the blow when she says, "Did they push you? Did they shove you or trip you or make you fall on top of that rack? Or did you do that all on your own?" She looks at me, brows raised, lips pursed, narrowed eyes focused on mine. As I stand there stunned, mute, my throat searing so hot I couldn't speak if I tried.
"It's like lighten up already, would you?" She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "They meant for it to be funny. And you'd be a helluva lot happier if you could just unclench, stop taking yourself and everything around you so damn seriously, and fuggin' learn to live a little! I mean, seriously, Ever. Think about it, okay?"
She turns, merging seamlessly into the crowd of students, all of them heading for the extra long table in their new lunchtime exodus, while I make a run for the gate.
I mean, why torture myself? Why hang around just so I can watch Damen flirt with Stacia, and get called spaz by my friends? Why have all of these advanced psychic abilities if I'm not going to exploit them and put them to good use like ditching school?
"Leaving so soon?"
I ignore the voice behind me and keep going.
Roman's pretty much the last person I'm willing to talk to at this point.
"Ever, hey, hold up! Seriously." He laughs, picking up his pace until he's right alongside me. "Where's the fire?"
I unlock my car and slide in, yanking the door and almost getting it closed, until he stops it with the palm of his hand. And even though I know I'm stronger, that if I really wanted I could just slam the door closed and be on my way, the fact that I'm still not used to my new immortal strength is the one thing that stops me. Because as much as I dislike him, I'm a little reluctant to slam it so hard I sever his hand.
I'd much rather save that kind of thing for when I might need it.
"If you don't mind, I really need to get going." I pull the door again, but he just grips it tighter. And when I combine the amused look on his face with the surprising strength in his fingers, I feel the strangest ping in my gut when I realize those two seemingly random things support my deepest suspicions.
But when I look at him again, watching as he lifts his hand to sip from his soda, exposing a wrist that's free of all markings, bearing no tattoos of a snake eating its own tail the mythical Ouroboros symbol which happens to be the sign of an immortal turned rogue it just doesn't add up.
Because the fact is, not only does he eat and drink, not only are his aura and thoughts accessible (well, to me anyway), but as much as I hate to admit it, from what I can see, he bears no outward signs of evil. And when you put that together, it's obvious my suspicions are not only paranoid but unfounded as well.
Which means he's not the malevolent immortal rogue I supposed him to be.
Which also means he's not responsible for Damen dumping me, or Miles's and Haven's defection. Nope, that would point right back to me.
And even though all the evidence supports that I refuse to accept it.
Because when I look at him again, my pulse quickens, my stomach pings, and I'm overcome by a feeling of unease and dread. Making it impossible for me to believe he's just some jolly young chap from England who wound up at our school and found himself all smitten with me.
Because the one thing I know for sure is: Everything was fine until he arrived.
And nothing's been the same since.
"Skipping out on lunch, are you?"
I roll my eyes. I mean, it's pretty obvious what I'm up to, so I won't waste my time with an answer.
"And I see you have room for one more. Mind if I join you ?"
"As a matter of fact, I do. So if you'd kindly remove your " I motion toward his hand, flicking my fingers in the international sign for scrum.
He holds up his hands in surrender, shaking his head when he says, "I don't know if you've noticed, Ever, but the more you evade me, the faster I chase. It'll be a lot easier for both of us if you just stop running."
I narrow my gaze, trying to see past the sunshiny aura and well-ordered thoughts, but I'm blocked by a barrier so impenetrable it's either the end of the road, or he's way worse than I thought.
"If you insist on the chase," I say, my voice much surer than I feel. "Then you better start training.
'Cause, dude, you're in for a marathon."
He winces, body flinching, eyes widening as though he's been stung. And if I didn't know better, I'd think it was real. But the fact is, I do know better. He's just hamming it up, practicing a few facial expressions for dramatic effect. And I don't have time to be the butt of his joke.
I shift into reverse and back out of my space, hoping to leave it at that.
But he just smiles, slapping the hood of my car when he says, "As you wish, Ever. Game on."
CHAPTER 22
I don't go home.
I started to. In fact, I had every intention of driving home, hauling upstairs, and flinging myself on my bed, burying my face in a fat pile of pillows and crying my eyes out like a big pathetic baby. But then, just as I was turning onto my street, I thought better. I mean, I can't allow myself that kind of luxury. I can't waste the time. So instead, I make a U-turn and head toward downtown Laguna. Making my way through those steep narrow streets, driving past well-tended cottages with beautiful gardens and the double-lot McMansions that sit right beside them. Heading for the address of the only person I know who can help me.
"Ever." She smiles, pushing her wavy auburn hair off her face as her large brown eyes settle on mine. And even though I arrived unannounced, she doesn't seem the least bit surprised. But then her being psychic makes her pretty hard to startle.
"I'm sorry for just showing up and not calling first, I guess I "
But she doesn't let me finish. She just opens the door and waves me right in, ushering me toward the kitchen table where I sat once before the last time I was in trouble and had nowhere to turn.
I used to loathe her, really loathed her. And when she started convincing Riley to move on to cross the bridge to where our parents and Buttercup were waiting it got even worse. But even though I used to count her as my worst enemy besides Stacia, all of that seems like so long ago now. And as she fusses around the kitchen, setting out cookies and brewing green tea, I watch, feeling guilty for not keeping in touch, for only coming around when I'm desperately in need.
We exchange the usual pleasantries, then she takes the seat across from me and cradles her teacup as she says, "You've grown! I know I'm short, but you positively tower over me now!"
I shrug, unsure how to deal with this but knowing I better get used to it. When you grow several inches in a matter of days, people tend to notice. "I guess I'm a late bloomer. You know, going through a growth spurt orsomething," I say, my smile feeling clumsy on my lips, realizing I need to come up with a much more convincing reply, or at least learn how to reply with conviction.
She looks me over and nods. Not buying a word of it but deciding to just let it go. "So, how's the shield holding up?"
I swallow hard, blinking once, twice. I was so focused on my mission I'd forgotten about the shield she helped me create. The one that blocked out all the noise and sound the last time Damen went away. The one I dismantled the moment he returned. "Oh, urn, I kind of got rid of it," I say, cringing as the words spill from my lips, remembering how it took the better part of an afternoon just to put it in place. She smiles, gazing at me from over the top of her cup. "I'm not surprised. Being normal's not all it's cracked up to be, once you've experienced something more. " I break off a piece of oatmeal cookie and shrug. Knowing that if it were up to me, I'd choose normal! over this any day.
"So, if this isn't about the shield then what is it?"
"You mean you don't know? What kind of psychic are you?" I laugh, far too loud for such a dumb, feeble joke.
But Ava just shrugs, tracing a heavily ringed finger along the rim of her cup as she says, "Well, I'm no advanced mind reader like you. Though I do sense something rather serious in the works."
"It's about Damen," I start, pausing to press down on my lips. "He's he's changed. He's become cold, distant, cruel even, and I " I drop my gaze, the truth behind the words making them so much harder to say.
"He won't return my calls, won't talk to me at school, he even moved his seat in English, and now he he's dating this girl who well, she's just awful. I mean, really, truly awful. And now he's awful too "
"Ever " she starts, her voice warm and gentle, her eyes kind.
"It's not what you think," I tell her. "It's not that at all. Damen and I didn't break up, we weren't having problems, it was nothing like that. It's like, one day everything was great and the nextnot. " "And did something happen to precipitate this change?" Her face is thoughtful, her eyes on mine. Yeah, Roman happened. But since I can't explain my suspicions, that he's an immortal rogue (despite all evidence to the contrary), employing some sort of mass mind control or hypnosis or spell casting (which I'm not even sure is possible) over the entire Bay View student body, I just tell her about Damen's recent bout of odd behaviorthe headaches, the sweating, and a few other safe-to-talk-about nonsecret things.
Then I sit there, holding my breath as she sips her tea and looks out the window at the beautiful garden beyond, her gaze returning to me when she says, "Tell me everything you know about Summerland." I stare at the two halves of my uneaten cookie and clamp my lips shut, never having heard the word mentioned so openly and casually like that. I'd always thought of it as Damen's and my sacred space, never realizing that mere mortals might know of it too. "Certainly you've visited?" She sets down her cup and raises her brow. "During your near-death experience perhaps?"
I nod, remembering both of my visits, the first time when I was dead, the second with Damen. And I was so taken with that magical, mystical dimension with its vast fragrant fields and pulsating trees I was reluctant to leave.
"And did you visit its temples while you were there?" Temples? I didn't see any temples. Elephants, beaches, and horses things we both manifested, but certainly no buildings or dwellings of any kind. "Summerland is legendary for its temples, or Great Halls of Learning as they're called. I'm thinking your answer lies there."
"But but I'm not even sure how to get there without Damen. I mean, short of dying and all ..." I look at her. "How do you even know about it? Have you been there?"
She shakes her head. 'I've been trying to access it for years. And though I've come close a few times, I've never been able to get through the portal. But maybe if we merge our energy together, pool our resources so to speak, we just might get through.'"
"It's impossible," I say, remembering the last time I tried to access it that way. And even though Damen was already showing signs of distress, he's still way more advanced than Ava on her very best day. "It's not that easy. Even if we do pool our energy, it's still a lot more difficult than you think."
But she just shakes her head and smiles, rising from her seat as she says, "But we'll never know until we try, right?"
CHAPTER 23
I follow her down a short hallway. My flip-flops snapping against a red woven rug as I think: This'll never work.
I mean, if I couldn't access the portal with Damen, how can I possibly access it with Ava? Because even though she seems to be a pretty gifted psychic, her skills are mostly saved for the party circuit, telling fortunes over a fold-up card table, embellishing them in hopes of a generous tip.
"It'll never work if you don't believe," she says, pausing before an indigo door. "You need to have faith in the process. And so, before we enter, I need you to clear your mind of all negativity. I need you to rid yourself of any sad or unhappy thoughts, or anything else that's dragging you down and serves the word can't "
I take a deep breath and stare at the door, fighting the urge to roll my eyes as I think: Great. I should've known. This is just the sort of hokey stuff you're forced to tolerate when you're dealing with Ava.
But all I say is, "Don't worry about me, I'm good."
Nodding in a way I hope is convincing, wanting to avoid her usual twenty-step meditation, or whatever woo-woo practice she might have in mind.
But Ava just stands there, hands on hips, eyes on mine. Refusing to let me in until I agree to lighten my emotional load.
So when she says, "Close your eyes," I do. But only to speed things along.
"Now I want you to imagine long spindly roots sprouting from the soles of your feet and delving deep into the earth, carving into the soil and stretching their limits. Digging deeper and deeper into the ground until they've reached the earth's core and can't go any farther. Got it?"
I nod, picturing what she asks, but only so we can get this show on the road and not because I believe in it.
"Now take a deep breath, take several deep breaths, and let your whole body relax. Feel your muscles loosening, while your tension fades away. Allowing any lingering negative thoughts or emotions to disappear. Just banish them from your energy field and tell them good riddance. Can you do that?" Um, whatever, I think. Just going through the motions and feeling pretty surprised when my muscles really do start to relax. And I mean, really relax. Like I'm at peace after a long hard battle. I guess I wasn't aware of just how tense I've been or how much negativity I was lugging around until Ava made me release it. And even though I'm willing to do just about anything to get into that room and closer to Summerland, I have to admit that some of this mumbo-jumbo stuff might really work. "Now draw your attention up until you're focused on the crown of your head, the area right at the top. And imagine a solid beam of the purest golden white light penetrating that very spot and easing its way all down your neck, your limbs, your torso, all the way down to your feet. Feel that warm, wonderful light healing every part of you, coating every last cell both inside and out, allowing any lingering sadness or anger to be transformed into loving energy by this powerful healing force. Feel the light surging inside you like a steady beam of lightness, love, and forgiveness with no beginning or end. And when you start to feel lighter, when you start to feel yourself purified and cleansed, open your eyes and look at me, but only when you're ready."
So I do, I go through the whole white light ritual, determined to participate and at least pretend to take these steps seriously since it's important to Ava. And just as I imagine a golden beam coursing through my body, coating my cells and all that, I also try to calculate just how long I should delay opening my eyes so it won't look too fake.
But then, something odd happens. I find myself feeling lighter, happier, stronger, and despite the desperate state I arrived in fulfilled.
And when I do open my eyes, I see that she's smiling at me, her entire body surrounded by the most beautiful violet aura I've ever seen.
She opens the door and I follow her inside, blinking and squinting as I adjust to the deep purple walls of this small spare room that, from the looks of it, seems to double as a shrine.
"Is this where you give your readings?" I ask, taking in the large collection of crystals and candles and iconic symbols that cover the walls. Watching as she shakes her head and settles onto an elaborate embroidered floor cushion, patting the one right beside her and motioning for me to sit too.
"Most of the people who show up here are occupying a dark emotional space, and I can't risk letting them in. I've worked very hard to keep the energy in this room pure, clean, and free of all darkness, and I don't allow anyone to enter until their energy is cleared, including me. That cleansing exercise I just put you through, I do it first thing every morning, just after I wake, and then again before entering this room. And I recommend you do it too. Because even though I know you thought it was nonsense, I also know you're surprised by how much better you feel." I press my lips together and avert my gaze. Knowing she doesn't have to read my mind to know what I'm thinking. My face always betrays me it's incapable of lying.
"I get the whole healing light thing," I say, gazing at the bamboo blinds covering the window and the shelf lined with stone statues of deities from all over the globe. "And I have to admit that it did make me feel better. But what was that root thing all about? It seemed kind of weird."
"That's called grounding. " She smiles. "When you came to my door, your energy felt very scattered and this helps to contain it. I suggest you perform that exercise daily as well."
"But won't it keep us from reaching Summerland?
You know, by grounding us here?"
She laughs. "No, if anything, it'll help you stay focused on where you really want to go."
I gaze around the room, noticing how it's so crammed with stuff, it's hard to take it all in. "So is this like your sacred space?" I finally say.
She smiles, her fingers picking at a loose thread on her cushion. "It's the place where I come to worship and meditate and try to reach the dimensions beyond.
And I have a very strong hunch that this time, I'll get there."
She folds her legs into the lotus position and motions for me to do so as well. And at first I can't help but think that my new long and gangly legs will never bend and entwine like hers. But a moment later I'm shocked by the way they just slip right into place, folding around each other in a way that's so natural and comfortable without the least bit of resistance. "Ready?" she asks, her brown eyes on mine. I shrug, gazing at the soles of my feet, amazed to see them so visible as they rest on top of my knees, wondering what kind of ritual she'll put us through next.
"Good. Because now it's your turn to lead." She laughs. "I've never been there before. So I'm counting on you to show us the way."
CHAPTER 24
I had no idea it would be so easy. Didn't believe we'd be able to get there. But just after I lead us through the ritual of closing our eyes and imagining a brilliant portal of shimmering light, we joined hands and toppled right through, landing side by side on that strange buoyant grass.
Ava looks at me, her eyes wide, her mouth open, but unable to form any words.
I just nod and gaze all around, knowing just how she feels. Because even though I've been here before, that doesn't make it any less surreal.
"Hey, Ava," I say, rising to my feet and brushing the seat of my jeans, eager to play tour guide and show her just how magical this place can be. "Imagine something. Anything. Like an object, an animal, or even a person. Just close your eyes and see it as clear as you can and then ..."
I watch as she closes her eyes, my excitement building as her brows merge together and she focuses on her object of choice.
And when she opens her eyes again, she clasps her hands to her chest and stares straight ahead, crying, "Oh! Oh, it can't be but lookit looks just like him and he's so real!"
She kneels on the grass, clapping her hands together and laughing with glee as a beautiful golden retriever leaps into her arms and smothers her cheeks with wet sloppy licks. Hugging him tightly to her chest, murmuring his name again and again, and I know it's my duty to warn her he's not the real deal.
"Ava, um, I'm sorry but I'm afraid he won't " but before I can finish, the dog slips from her grasp, fading like a pattern of vibrating pixels that soon vanish completely. And when I see the devastation on her face, my stomach sinks, feeling guilty for initiating this game. ''I should've explained," I say, wishing I hadn't been so impulsive. "I'm so sorry."
But she just nods, blinking back tears as she brushes the grass from her knees. "It's okay. Really. I knew it was too good to be true, but just to see him like that again, just to have that moment " She shrugs. "Well, even if it wasn't real, I don't regret it for a second. So don't you regret it either, okay?" She grasps my hand and squeezes it tight. "I've missed him so much, and just to have him for those few brief seconds was like a rare and precious gift. A gift I got to experience thanks to you."
I nod, swallowing hard, hoping she means it. And even though we could spend the next several hours manifesting everything our hearts desire, the truth is, my heart desires only one thing. Besides, after witnessing Ava's reunion with her beloved pet, the pleasure of material goods no longer seems worth it. "So this is Summerland," she says, gazing all around. "This is it." I nod. "But all I've ever seen of it is this field, that stream, and a few other things that didn't exist until I manifested them here. Oh, and see that bridge? Way over there, off in the distance, where the fog settles in?"
She turns, nodding when she sees it. "Don't go near it. It leads to the other side. That's the bridge Riley told you about, the one I finally convinced her to cross after a little coaxing from you."
Ava stares at it, her eyes narrowed as she says, "I wonder what happens if you try to go across? You know, without dying, without that kind of invite?" But I just shrug, not having nearly enough curiosity to ever try and find out. "I wouldn't recommend it," I say, seeing the look in her eyes and realizing she's actually weighing her options, wondering if she should try to cross it, out of sheer curiosity if nothing else. "You might not come back," I add, trying to relay the potential seriousness since she doesn't seem to get it. But I guess Summerland has that effect it's so beautiful and magical it tempts you to take chances you normally wouldn't.
She looks at me, still not fully convinced but too eager to see more than to just sit around here. So she links her arm through mine, and says, "Where do we begin?"
Since neither of us has any idea just where to begin we begin by walking. Heading through the meadow of dancing flowers, making our way through the forest of pulsating trees, crossing the rainbow-colored stream filled with all manner of fish, until finding a trail that, after curving and winding and meandering forever, leads us to a long empty road. But not a yellow brick road or one paved with gold. This is just a regular street, made of everyday asphalt, like the kind you see at home.
Though I have to admit that it's better than the streets at home because this one is clean and pristine, with no potholes or skid marks. In fact, everything around here appears so shiny and new you'd think it'd never been used, when the truth is or at least the truth according to AvaSummerland is older than time. "So what exactly do you know about these temples, or Great Halls of Learning as you call them?" I ask, gazing up at an impressive white marble building with all sorts of angels and mythical creatures carved into its columns and wondering if it could be the place that we seek. I mean, it looks fancy yet serious, impressive but not exactly formidable, everything I imagine a hall of higher learning to be. But Ava just shrugs as though she's no longer interested. Which is a tad more noncommittal than I'd like.
She was so sure the answer lay here, was so insistent on binding our energy and traveling together, but now that we've made it, she's a little too enamored with the power of instant manifestation to concentrate on anything else.
"I just know they exist," she says, her hands held out before her, turning them this way and that. "I've come across their mention many times in my studies."
And yet, all you seem to be studying now are those large Jewel-encrusted rings you've manifested onto your fingers! I think, not stating the actual words but knowing that if she's interested enough to look, she'll see the annoyance stamped on my face.
But she just smiles as she manifests an armful of bangles to match her new rings. And when she starts gazing down at her feet, in pursuit of new shoes, I know it's time to rein her back in.
"So what should we do when we get there?" I ask, determined to get her to focus on the true reason we're here. I mean, I did my part, so the least she could do is reciprocate and help me find the way. "And what do we research once we find it? Sudden headaches? Extreme bouts of uncontrollable sweatiness? Not to mention, will they even let us in?" I turn, fully expecting a lecture on my persistent negativity, my rampant pessimism that vanishes for a while but never fully subsides only to find that she's no longer there.
And I mean, she's completely, unmistakably, one hundred percent not present!
"Ava!" I call, turning around and around, squinting into the shimmering mist, the eternal radiance that emanates from nowhere specific but manages to permeate everything here. "Ava, where are you?" I shout, running down the middle of the long, empty road, stopping to peer into windows and doorways, and wondering why there are so many stores and restaurants and art galleries and salons when there's no one around to use them. "You won't find her."
I turn, seeing a petite dark-haired girl standing behind me. Her stick-straight hair hanging to her shoulders, and her nearly black eyes framed by bangs so severe they seem slashed with a razor.
"People get lost here. Happens all the time."
"Who who are you?" I say, taking in her starched white blouse, plaid skirt, blue blazer, and kneesocks, the outfit of your typical private school girl, but knowing this is no ordinary student not if she's here.