Chapter 17
Later that night, beneath the full moon’s glow, I return to Rainbow Valley Swim Club.
Xander is sprawled out on his usual lounge chair, Because of Winn-Dixie open over his face, acting as a makeshift sleep mask.
One hand is tucked behind his head, the other dangles over the side, swaying slightly in the night breeze, inches above the grass.
I tap his shoulder. His skin is damp—either from the humidity or a recent dip in the pool.
“Wake up,” I say, my voice raw from all the tears I shed on the drive here.
He groans.
“Xander, it’s Stetson. I need to talk to you.”
He sits up. The book slips from his face and lands in his lap with a soft thud. He flinches as it hits his waist.
“Stetson?” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?” A yawn stretches from the back of his throat.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care.”
The sharpness in my voice slices through his grogginess like a defibrillator bringing someone back to life. He blinks, suddenly alert, then stands.
“What’s wrong?” His eyeballs sweep over me from head to toe. “Why are you upset?”
“I’m like you,” I say flatly.
He rests his hand on his hip. “Well, that’s mean. I think I’m a fairly decent person.”
I shake my head.
“Or is this about being gay?” he presses. “Because if so, I can help you work through that. I’ve had a lot of time to ruminate over the whole ordeal.” He spins his hand through the air.
I grab his wrist, holding him steady. “It’s not that. It’s . . . people . . .” I swallow. He raises his eyebrows. “. . . People can’t see me. Like how they can’t see you.”
His face goes pale, like he’s just seen a ghost. And maybe that’s because, for the first time, he has.
“Everyone?” he asks, stepping back only to trip over the lounge chair, landing hard.
“Only one person so far. My ex-boyfriend, Murray.” My pulse pounds. “How did this happen?”
Xander pushes himself up, then locks his hands behind his head as he starts pacing.
Beside him, the pool looks full. Sherly and Kim must have been working nonstop over the past few days.
But I can’t tell if the water is blue or green.
A dark gradient, somewhere between black and navy, spreads across the surface.
Every slow-moving ripple catches the moonlight, silver glinting off the crest of each wave.
“Just one person?” he asks. “So everyone else can still see you?”
I nod. “That I know of.”
“Then you’re not like me.”
“Murray just casually walked through my body like I was a damn lawn sprinkler!” I jab a finger into my chest. “I exploded into a million tiny pieces and landed on his freaking video game controller.” My throat tightens. “I might not be exactly like you, but I am not who I used to be.”
His eyes go wide. “Oh, shit. Yeah, that can happen.”
He wraps an arm around my back and guides me down onto the lounge chair. I let myself fall against his warm, bare skin, my breathing shallow as I try to steady myself. His heart beats slowly beneath my ear. I focus on it and count each thud against his rib cage.
I make it to thirty-five before he speaks again.
“It’s going to be all right,” he murmurs as his fingers thread my hair. “We found each other for a reason. We’ll get through this.”
“I can’t be dead,” I say. “I was just getting out of here.”
“You’re not dead if some people can still see you. Did anything . . . happen recently? An accident?”
I exhale sharply. “So much has happened in the past couple weeks. I can barely keep it straight.”
“Walk me through it. Quickly.”
I suck in a deep breath. “I broke up with my boyfriend . . . then I started this new pool job . . . then I saw you . . . I went coyote hunting with my friend Whitley . . . then Murray lost his ability to see me . . . and now I’m here.”
Xander’s fingers go still against my scalp. The night air hums with cicadas and trilling toads. “Nothing else? I don’t get why you can see me when no one else can.”
“That list wasn’t weird enough for you?” I tip my head back and catch the dark silhouettes of tree branches stretching across the gray sky. And then it hits me.
“Wait.”
He stiffens. “What? Something else happened?”
I swallow. “I went to the Ardor Tree after I broke up with Murray. And it . . . it attacked me!” I’ve tried so hard to block out the memory I nearly forgot it.
His hand moves to my chin, pushing it up until our eyes meet. His expression is unreadable.
“You were at the Ardor Tree before this all happened?” he asks.
I nod. “Last Sunday.”
His lips press together. His head tilts slightly like he’s fitting a puzzle piece into place. “I was at the Ardor Tree right before I disappeared.”
My heart skips a beat. “If we were both at the Tree . . . and I’m not dead . . .” My breath catches. “That might mean—”
Xander’s mouth falls open. “Neither am I.”