Chapter 8. Reed #2
With all these swirling thoughts, I keep ending up in the study, running my hand along my dad’s guitar case. If I could only open it and play, maybe that would somehow, I don’t know, call him to me. But even after all the trying, I can’t pick anything up.
God, it’s so frustrating. Where’s the book I can study?
Where are the flashcards? If this were an exam, I’d be failing, and I.
Do. Not. Like. To. Fail. Is Tessa figuring all this out by now?
Is she surging ahead? Is she upstairs right at this very moment, walking through walls, hovering in the air, ghosting it up?
Because if she is, I have to beat her, stay ahead of the curve.
With a newfound fire in my belly, I get up to confront Tessa, tell her it’s ridiculous we aren’t speaking, because there’s so much we need to talk about. When I pivot toward the door, the air gusts out of me.
She’s here.
She thinks she’s being sly, but one of her braided buns pokes past the doorframe. Has she been spying on me, too? I kneel back over my guitar, pretending I don’t notice, trying to control my smirk, waiting to see what she’ll do.
But she remains silent, unmoving.
“I know you’re there.” I sigh loudly before she can sneak back upstairs. “Some of your hair’s sticking out around the corner. You’re not as disguised as you think.” My voice is croaky from lack of use, but I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t leap at her being here after all these days alone.
She swings around to face me in the doorframe, hands on her hips, trying to recover her self-respect after getting caught.
“What happened to avoiding each other for eternity?” I ask, an eyebrow piqued. She doesn’t need to know how much I’ve thought about her. How I was doing the same thing, spying on her, earlier.
“I have my reasons,” she says evasively.
“Which are …?”
She glances away, likely scrambling to come up with some legit excuse to have broken the code she set.
I shrug with a grin. “Clearly, you missed my winning personality. It’s okay to admit it.”
“You are so cocky. I should turn around and march back upstairs right now.”
“Be my guest.” Though I indicate the door, my eyes plead otherwise. Don’t leave. Please don’t leave. I’m dying down here by myself.
She must sense my pathetic desperation because her cheeks flush as she walks into the study to look around.
She scoffs when she takes in the guitar case I’m hovering over.
“You have got to be kidding me. I’m upstairs trying to understand this whole astrophysical mess we’re in, and you’re down here trying to play guitar.
That is so typical. Even in death all you want is to be a rock star. ”
“Rock god, Tessa. I want to be a rock god.” My mouth quirks as I stand up, hands in my pockets. “I was actually about to come find you.”
Tessa’s lips purse as she considers me, unsure if I’m telling the truth. But I don’t get the chance to explain because there’s the sound of a car parking out front and faint voices spilling across the lawn.
We stare at each other in shock, then dash to the grand foyer, taking our places side by side at the imposing front windows.
Though the fog has receded almost to the edge of the property, I can still make out additional headlights flashing past, more cars parking.
As the gate swings open, Tessa’s dad emerges from the mist, crossing the threshold onto the grounds.
Someone’s on his arm—her sister maybe? They’re followed by a couple.
From Tessa’s gasp, I suspect the woman must be her mom.
Then Tilly, Santiago, Kira, and Brandon are here, along with my mom and stepdad.
My heart beats rapidly.
My mom’s here. She’s here to save me. For a fleeting moment I’m positively sure of it, until my eyes land on the wreath she’s clutching and the situation becomes clear.
No.
She’s here to mourn me.
A fierce and painful longing rockets through my body as I lay my hands on the glass, willing them to see me. I want to race outside and hug her, but I can’t open the fucking door.
“Do you think they’re coming inside?” Tessa asks as they make their way across the lawn. It comes out as a whisper, a desperate hope.
We can’t hear them through the glass, but it’s enough to see them. Did they come from our funeral? They halt at the front steps, staring ahead with wary faces.
When our mothers walk together to lay the wreath on the porch, a guttural cry rips from Tessa’s lips. Her arms snake around her stomach. “She finally had a good enough reason to return to town.”
Dressed in black, Tilly pulls a letter out of her pocket and weeps as she lays it below the wreath.
Tessa begins to bawl beside me, but I can hardly pay attention anymore.
My back stiffens as waves of anger roll off my body.
My stepdad—blond hair slicked back, Armani suit tailored perfectly to his slim frame—is already bored and distracted.
Everything unsaid between us ignites, ready to burn me whole.
He doesn’t deserve my mom. And we certainly don’t deserve him.
“Look at him checking his watch, like he can’t even give her this moment to grieve her son before needing to get back on some business call.
” After glancing at the time, the all-important Steven Walker pulls his phone out to discreetly reply to some email while my mom collapses on the stairs, head pressed to the wreath.
It’s Tessa’s father who stoops to comfort her as she sobs.
My fists clench at my sides.
“Where’s your fucking humanity?” I scream at my stepfather. No one glances up. My stepdad tucks his phone away, but it’s clear he’s itching to reach for it again.
“Reed,” Tessa says quietly, though I can’t focus on anything but my anger—until the gentle press of her hand on my arm brings me back.
Eventually Tessa’s dad helps my mom up and they begin to lead the procession back to their cars out front.
“No. Come back.” Tessa turns to me, desperate. “Don’t let them leave.” Like I can do anything about that.
“H-how—” I stammer.
She steps back, a blazing look in her eyes, then races toward the front door. I brace for the thud, but instead the door warps and flickers. Suddenly, Tessa is standing outside on the front porch, her muscles rigid with shock.
She did it. Somehow, she made her way outdoors, conquering a skill I have no idea how to master.
All my fears rise to the surface, a mounting panic.
I’m going to be trapped in this house, isolated and forgotten. Tessa will leave me behind to the whispers and dust.
I place my palms against the windowpane, leaning forward, as if I could melt through the glass and join her.
Briefly, Tessa turns back to me, shocked and triumphant.
“Please,” I beg, eyes wide. Don’t go. I shake my head quickly, imploring her to stay.
But Tessa doesn’t listen.
She turns and bolts after her family.