Chapter 23
A week and a half after my visit to Anna, I dig the Children of Hypnos books out of my closet.
These were Alissa’s favorite books, and I think I did her a disservice the first time I read them.
I clear the junk off my desk, set the first book in front of me, and crack it open.
She didn’t read these because of the game.
The game was a supplement. She wasn’t reading the books to understand what would happen in the next expansion, or what new enemies the developers might put in; she was playing the game to get closer to this story she loved so much.
I read through the night and into the next day. And the next. I read all four books straight through, and I don’t view them through the lens of the video game, but through my own depression.
When I finally finish, I get it. I get it in a way that I didn’t before. The story reflects my fears. It understands me. I am hunted by a nightmare that is myself. I thought there were only two ways to defeat it:
I kill that part of myself, discarding it, and drive toward purpose at the expense of everything else, or
I succumb to it.
But there is a third option. It takes longer, and it’s more difficult, but it might restore me. Maybe Alissa didn’t see that, or she didn’t think it was possible. The series isn’t over, after all; how are we supposed to know if it works, if we have no example?
The fifth book comes out in the fall. What if that third path turned out to be a lie?
I cannot allow myself to believe that.
I will survive to find out.
When I reach the end of the fourth book, I’m left with only my bookmark, Alissa’s folded note. EVIE written in big letters. I unfold it and read it.
I thought the books were going to be a birthday present for me, and this note was something she would explain. What if it wasn’t? She gave me these books because she knew she was going to walk into that river. She wrote this note knowing I would have to figure it out on my own.
“Summer 2017 and “Chilly Chicken” can’t be anything else except that summer we played softball on the same team and ate a ton of Chilly’s.
What was special about that time? We used to run around the fields before and after the practices and games while our parents talked.
The fields were surrounded by thick stands of trees, tons of fun spots to play hide-and-seek and uncover cool trinkets people had discarded.
I think that was the summer we found the secret place. I’d forgotten; we hadn’t been back there in so long. But of course Alissa remembered.
I grab my keys, my phone, my license. Mom is in the living room, doing her daily crossword. “Mom, is it okay if I go talk to Ash? I need to apologize to him for some stuff.”
She looks up. “Yeah, of course. At his house?”
“Yeah.”
“Should I tell Mrs. Whitaker you’re on your way over?”
“I won’t be there for long. After that I want to go to the softball fields. Is that okay?”
“Evie, as long as you feel okay and you don’t want to hurt yourself, you don’t need my permission to leave the house. Do you feel okay? What happened?”
I debate for a moment, then take the note out of my pocket. I show it to her. “Alissa left this for me with the Children of Hypnos books. I think I know what it means, but I’m going to go see. It’s a place we used to go when we were little.”
“You think she left something for you there?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, sounds like you have a mystery you need to solve.” She waves me off. “Get to it! Call me if you need anything, okay?”
For the first time in a long time, I feel a clarity of purpose that doesn’t claw at my insides. I know that what I find won’t change anything that has happened, but if she did leave something for me, I’ll find it for her.
I drive over to the Whitakers’ and only remember to text Ash once I’ve parked. His car is here, so he’s probably home.
Saturday, April 26
11:37 a.m.
Hey. Sitting in your driveway. Can we talk?
Within a minute, he appears at his bedroom window, scowling down at the driveway. I know that scowl; it’s not anger, it’s surprise. He disappears again. I get out and lean against the car to wait for him.
He comes outside. He’s wearing socks with slides, sweatpants, and a Monstrous Sea shirt, this one with a diagram of a sea serpent winding around the front and back. He seems fully lucid.
“Do you want your computer back?” he asks.
“Oh. Yeah, I guess I should get that.” I hadn’t wanted to go back for it. It felt like a little monster, waiting for me. “I don’t think I’ll play CoH for a while, though. Does . . . does the clan hate me?”
“No. They were asking about you yesterday. They assume something bad happened and wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Even Zoo?”
“Zoo was the first one to ask.”
Oh. I’d planned on avoiding the game forever, but maybe I don’t have to. Maybe, someday, it could just be a fun thing that I do, instead of a thing I feel like I have to do.
I shake myself. I came here for a reason.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Missing the raid wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have blamed you for any of it.”
He frowns as he takes this in. Rubs the fabric of his sweatpants between his fingers. Looks at different places, anywhere but my face. I can’t help but be worried that he won’t accept my apology, but if he doesn’t, I’ll understand.
Finally he nods. I don’t know if this is an acceptance or not. “Are you okay? I thought you’d text me.”
“I . . . haven’t been okay,” I reply. “The raid was the breaking point. But I’m working on it now.
I’m on some new medication and going to my therapist more regularly.
” I clear my throat. “I don’t know if . .
. if you still want to be together. If not, that’s okay.
It might be a while before I can handle that. A relationship.”
“Okay,” he says. I can’t tell if that’s a yes or no, and maybe it isn’t supposed to be either one. He doesn’t have to answer right this second if he doesn’t want to. I probably wouldn’t.
An awkward silence passes between us. He shifts again and says, almost blurting it out, “I’m glad you’re okay.
I shouldn’t have given you the edibles. I didn’t know how to be safe with them.
And just because they helped me didn’t mean they would help you.
” His scowl reappears. I know this version too—he’s angry with himself.
“It was at least partially my fault. So I’m sorry too. ”
“You’re forgiven.”
“That’s . . . thanks.” His shoulders sink. The scowl smooths away. “I’m glad you’re here. I haven’t really been able to talk to anyone.”
“You should try therapy. It’s pretty great.”
His lips quirk. “I’ll do that.”
I take the note out of my pocket and hold it out for him. “This was the note Alissa gave me with the CoH books. I told you about it before. I think I know what it means now. Would you . . . do you want to go see with me?”
He eyes the note. “Did I tell you? She gave me a piece of paper like this. With the little drawings, and everything, and my name written on the outside.”
I pause. “She did? A riddle like this?”
“No, not a riddle. And it was back in the fall. Before . . .”
“What was in it?”
He rubs his neck. “Your phone number.”
“Oh.”
“I think she was trying to do something nice,” he says. “For both of us.”
“Yeah.”
Silence falls again. Blushing, he motions to my note. “She could have been clearer,” he says. “Yeah, I’m down. Let me go put real shoes on.”
The softball fields are at the same park where Alissa’s car was found, but on the far side. There’s a girls’ travel team practicing on one field and a pixie game on the other. We park beyond the outfields and walk up to the fence to watch.
“Sometimes I miss when things were like this,” I say, motioning to the girls on the field. “When we were little, and things weren’t so serious. But then I remember how uncertain I was then, how afraid I was. I think now might be better. I understand the world better. I can prepare better.”
“Dad always said adult responsibilities were going to be tough,” Ash says. “But I prefer adult responsibilities to childhood ignorance.”
Me too.
“I can’t wait for next fall,” Ash says. “Soccer season.”
“You’re playing?”
He smiles. “Still got that scholarship. I’ve been running again to condition. What about you?”
“Yeah. I miss it. I might try something else, though. Running won’t be the same without Alissa. Maybe I’ll find somewhere to do martial arts.”
“You already know how to kick people’s asses.”
“I don’t think going batshit outside the lunchroom counts as kicking someone’s ass,” I say, laughing. “Shit, I still need to apologize to Aiden Marx for clawing up his face, don’t I?”
“If you really think you need to,” he raises his eyebrows. “Personally, I thought it was deserved—”
I knock him with my hips. He smiles. I remember that good things can come from the bad too, and that Ash and I might never have become friends if not for all of this.
We head toward the wall of trees on the other side of the fields.
They sway slightly in the breeze. The sky above is brilliant, deep blue.
There’s a split in the trees part of the way down the path, covered over now by bushes, but I know where to find it because there’s a dirty yellow shoelace still tied to a branch low to the ground.
I put it there years ago, so Alissa and I could find this place again.
I swing around a big tree, past the shoelace, and climb up a short dirt slope. The trees make a natural staircase. At the top is a small clearing, invisible from the fields, but from here you can see everyone playing and walking around.
We loved this place. It was like being behind a two-way mirror.
The best part was that we knew we weren’t the first people to find it.
There was other stuff here: an abandoned toy dump truck half buried in the dirt.
A pair of once-white Nikes, tied together and tossed over a high branch.
A fraying lawn chair and an old foam cooler.
We’d race to this spot after games, and the first person to arrive got to sit in the chair while the other person had to sit on the ground.
The breeze feels cooler here, the leaves look greener.
There’s a round circle of sky directly above, like a porthole to the infinite.
It’s strange to be here and not be weighed down by the memories of Alissa.
I feel lighter here. She is gone. I will miss her, but I will also remember her.
Maybe the grief will never leave me, but maybe I don’t want it to, not completely.
I want to know that I loved her that much. That she meant that much to me.
There’s one thing here that I don’t remember. Stuck to the top of the foam cooler is a bright red sticker, too new to have been destroyed by the elements. When I look closer, I see the Chilly’s Chicken mascot.
Summer 2017. This place we found.
Chilly’s Chicken. The sticker.
Pop the top. There was never anything in the cooler besides dirt and the occasional bug, although we always used to check, just in case. Someone could have come when we weren’t here. We always hoped we’d find a note inside, a message from an ethereal stranger.
I kneel beside the cooler and remove the top. Inside is another folded piece of paper.
“That’s it?” Ash says. There’s hesitation in his voice. I know why.
Is this it? The real suicide note? The one that explains why?
I grab the note with shaking hands. Was I the only one she would tell? Should I even let Ash see it?
I unfold the paper and read it. All the air rushes out of me, taking with it the anxiety, the nerves.
I laugh.
“What a bitch,” I say, and give the paper to Ash.
It says only one thing.