Chapter One #2
“Oh,” he laughs, “that.” His laugh is so easy, so carefree. Like someone who’s never thought about the second part of the life-and-death equation. “I was just taking a minute.” His green eyes flick back to the house and he takes another slow sip of his drink. “Sometimes crowds can get … crowded.”
“They tend to do that,” I say, sitting down on the second step. I tap my watch again. Forty-six minutes. Where the hell is Jules?
He comes over and sits down next to me. “I’m Peter.”
“Pan?”
“I wish,” he says. “But I’m a pacifist. So the whole pirate-fighting thing is out.” He smiles at me and the openness, the earnestness of his smile is so blinding I have to look away.
Of course he’s a pacifist. Only people who’ve never had to make an actual choice in their life have the luxury of being pacifists. This boy—this Peter Pan—has the energy of someone who’s never had a goldfish die. He’s just so … present. It’s disgusting.
Where did he even come from? I know everyone in this town (everyone knows everyone), and I’ve never seen him before.
“I just transferred here,” he says, as if he can read my mind.
The door behind us opens, the latest Sabrina Carpenter song pouring onto the porch along with the shrieks and laughter of nearly the entire senior class.
Two of my classmates stumble out, hanging on to each other, giggling and darting into the woods to hook up or get high. Or both.
“Seems a little dangerous,” Peter says, his eyes following them into the darkened mass of trees.
“They’ll be fine,” I say. They don’t have any clocks over their heads. Although I know firsthand that death isn’t the only bad thing that can happen to a person.
Peter turns back to me. “You never said what your name was.”
“Tinker Bell,” I say, tapping my phone. No new messages, and I’m now officially under forty-five minutes to Liam’s Zero Hour.
Come on, Jules. My leg shakes with excess energy and for a second I almost consider getting up and just sprinting down the road.
But I can’t do that out here, not without my reflective gear. That actually is dangerous.
“I don’t know,” Peter says, cocking his head. “You don’t seem sparkly enough to be a Tinker Bell.”
“Gee, thanks,” I say, keeping my eyes on the road.
“No, I just meant …” Peter trails off, right as the door opens again. I don’t turn around to see who it is this time. I already know.
Pink light spreads across the porch, casting a neon glow over the front yard. My body freezes, the light suffocating me, pinning me to the porch. Metaphorically, that is. Technically, I could still run. Technically, I could do a lot of things that I don’t.
Liam bends down and puts his head next to mine. He’s so close, and the light is so blinding, I have to fight the urge to shield my eyes.
“Hey, I think we should partner up for that poetry project,” he says.
“Homework? Come onnnn, who cares?” Cameron says, pulling on Liam’s arm. “I want burgers! Feed meeeee.”
“Okay, okay,” he laughs. He’s still so close. I swear I can hear his heart beating. I wonder how many more beats he has left. Against my better judgment, I let myself glance up at him.
00:42:13
Cameron keeps dragging him down the steps. At the last second, Liam turns back around and offers me a high five. “Dylan Thomas buddies!”
I hesitate, but then I shake it off. Act normal. There’s nothing I can do. I high-five him back, my fingers lingering on his for just a fraction too long. “Dylan Thomas buddies,” I say, trying to make my voice come out casual, even though the words feel thick and lumpy in my throat.
He’ll never do that project. God, he probably won’t even make it to the burgers. Car crash, then. I assumed, but still, you never know. He could’ve slipped on jungle juice and cracked his head open on the tile, his blood mixing with the sticky mess on the floor.
“Later, Syd! Later, random new kid!” Liam says, tipping an imaginary hat to us and stumbling after Cameron.
“Syd,” Peter says, drawing out my name like he’s rolling it around on his tongue. “Not Tinker Bell.”
“Mhm,” I say, barely paying attention. My eyes are locked onto Liam’s back. He’s walking— No … actually, he’s skipping, literally, down the road, laughing while Cameron tries to jump on his back. In a few minutes this will all be over. In a few minutes …
Before I can register what I’m doing, I feel myself get up and dart toward Liam, my legs flying without me telling them to. Shit, what am I doing?
I reach out and touch his shoulder. “Liam.”
He turns around, a cheesy grin still plastered on his face. He tears his eyes from Cameron, waiting for me to explain why I just ran after him like a psycho.
“I …” This is so stupid. And so against the rules. But I can’t help myself. I reach out and squeeze his hand.
“Liam …” Jesus, what’s the end of that sentence?
What’s the right way to send off a kind-of-friend who’s about to die?
I stand on my tippy toes and give him a hug, my body once again moving without my permission.
God, what the hell am I doing? This is so maudlin.
“You were a good guy,” I say into his ear.
“Really. Like, an actual good person.” I give him one last squeeze on his shoulder.
My eyes go a little blurry, his neon light smearing in front of me. Shit, are those actual tears?
“Thanks,” Liam says, looking a little confused, but also genuinely flattered. Like I said, good guy.
Cameron gives me barely concealed side-eye before dragging Liam away from me and toward her car. Toward … Well, toward what comes next for Liam.
00:39:11
I turn around and squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t bear to watch him get into that car.
I don’t hear the engine start—Cameron’s got one of those electric cars—but I do hear the dirt and rocks crunching under the tires and the two of them laughing with the windows down, their voices mixing with some overly emotional Lewis Capaldi song.
The laughter and music get farther and farther away, until there’s nothing left but the stillness of the night. They’re gone. One of them for good.
“Hey.”
I startle, opening my eyes. “Jesus, could you wear a bell around your neck or something?” The new kid is standing in front of me with this look on his face that’s somewhere between fear and curiosity and … Oh. That’s concern. Right.
“Are you … okay?” he asks, his green eyes so deep and searching it makes me want to put my hands over his face just to make it stop.
He stands there, looking at me like he’s got all the time in the world to wait for my answer. Tonight, he does have the time. Everyone here does. Everyone except Liam.
00:37:53
Am I okay?
No. But who ever is?