Don't Fear the Reaper (21 page)

Students filed through the halls, some running, others talking, some laughing. How soon we forget, move on. Banning and Daniel followed me to my second period class—Biology 201, but bowed out of coming inside the classroom.

“We’ll take a look around and meet you back here in a couple hours. Give you time to visit some classes and catch up on friends,” Banning said. “We’ll go see what we can find out about Jordan—see if she’s hanging around somewhere nearby.”

“Later,” I replied in as steady and as casual a voice as I could manage. I was reminded of several years ago, when we’d had to bring in something to talk about in science class—a salamander in a fish bowl, or a butterfly pinned inside a cotton-lined cardboard jewelry box. One guy had brought in a project that involved using a potato as a battery for a small digital clock. Briefly, I imagined standing before my classmates with a reaper and a demon to demonstrate proof of the afterlife, followed by a discussion of what Banning had called Phantom Physics.

I stepped into the class I’d once shared with two of my longtime friends and my on again, off again boyfriend, Miles. Gina and Miles sat at the back of the class, their faces pale and sullen. I studied Miles’ face. He hadn’t slept much—a hint of dark circles appeared under his soft brown eyes. Guilt and shame washed over me and I looked away.

Next to Gina, I noticed that Amanda was missing. Of all my friends, Amanda had the kind of personality that’d take my death the hardest. I took a seat in her chair as Mr. Fitzpatrick lectured the class on the physiology of invertebrates. Although biology had been one of my favorite subjects, I’d never liked long lectures. I was more of an interactive student. Give me lab work any day. Except today. I listened to every word, realizing this was the last biology class I would ever sit in on.

When class ended, I followed Gina and Miles into the hallway. Miles put an arm around Gina. “It’ll be okay,” he told her.

Why did people keep saying that?

Granted, Miles
was
the resolute type. It’s why we’d dated—we were a lot alike. Yet, I’d hoped for something...else. I ached to be in his arms again. Our relationship had ended six months ago on friendly terms. Friendly enough that we’d hooked up a couple of times since then, including the few times we’d doubled with Jordan and Pete.

Miles and I had still called each other almost every week. When we’d dated, neither of us had ever said we loved one another. That came after the breakup. Somehow, we’d worked out a better relationship when we hadn’t expected each other to always be there on a weekend night or between classes. Sometimes, as I’d lain in bed at night, I’d wondered if we’d ever wind up with each other again. Miles had thought we would. He’d even asked me to senior prom if neither of us was dating anyone else when next May rolled around.

I stuck with Miles when he and Gina went different directions at the end of the hall. Gina had World History, Miles had English. He acknowledged a couple guys he hung with in the hall as he made his way to his locker. My locker was across the hall from his. Pictures, notes, and photos had been taped to it, just as Daniel had said. Miles glanced at it, then turned away. He punched his locker, denting it slightly. He twirled the combination lock, popped the locker open and shoved his books inside, took out two more, and slammed the locker shut. He walked across the hall and stood in front of my locker.

If anyone in life had a chance of sensing my presence, it was Miles. I stood behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Damn it, Keely!” He ruffled his already perfectly mussed light brown hair—a habit of his whenever he was frustrated.

Gently, I leaned into him, resting my head against his back.

“Why?” Miles whispered.

For a moment I almost imagined he knew I was there. “I’m here,” I replied. “I’m sorry. I guess I just… I guess I got lost.”

“Why? Why, dammit!” he repeated. He touched my photo taped among the letters, lightly stroking it.

I caught a glimpse of Banning and Daniel talking at the far end of the hall. Banning was partially turned away from me, but Daniel didn’t pretend to give me such privacy. I pulled myself away, and positioned myself between Miles and my locker. I had hoped for too much. Miles couldn’t see me. No one could.

“I miss you,” I said, reaching up to kiss his cheek. Miles continued to stare through me at my locker, his lips pinched tight in frustration and confusion.

“No matter what you think of me now, this was never about you. Not ever,” I told him. “But it should have been. I should have stayed.”

Miles turned and walked down the hallway, the gentle tap of his boots against the floor echoing back to me.

“Miles!” I called out. I felt Banning and Daniel staring at my back, but I didn’t care.

Miles stopped and turned back toward me and I held my breath, hoping against hope. Banning said the living rarely saw the dead—that they usually shrugged off any sign we were right there. I bet Miles had that feeling now—something had told him to turn and look for me. For a moment, I swore my heart held perfectly still.

“I’m right here,” I whispered. “Right here.”

We stood there, staring. Except that Miles looked past me, to my locker instead. He crossed his wrists in front of his chest and signed—something a bunch of us did. Signing enabled us to talk in class or across a crowded, noisy room.

I love you.

A tear spilled down my cheek. I signed back.

I love you, too.

Until right then I didn’t realize how much I’d miss him, miss his touch, his sexy smile, the way I felt around him. The way his hair was always perfect, even when he ran his hands through it. Miles turned and walked off in that low-key kind of shuffle of his. Was he mad at me for what I’d done, or mad that I was gone? Before today, I’d have said he was just mad at the situation.

Before he turned the corner I signed to him again.

Take care.

Helplessly, I watched him walk out of my life. I turned and stared at my locker. Seeing it decorated as some sort of shrine in the empty hallway seemed strange. I browsed through the layers of letters and photos taped to the front of it. I wasn’t sure if I should smile, laugh, or cry as I read them. Talk of friendship, times past, thoughts of me in heaven with my sister, letters wanting to know why. Others not asking why, but telling me they loved me, that they’d remember me.

The empty hallway seemed cavernous as I stood there alone. Banning and Daniel were gone. Probably to check on something—a lead on Jordan perhaps. Or, maybe they wanted to give me some space.

One by one, I read every note. When I finished, I read them again and swiped at the occasional runaway tear. As I read what friends and classmates had written for me, I recalled how I once thought the world had been a pretty crappy place sometimes—that it would take everything from me if it could.

I wished I were still part of their world.

Each sentiment touched me in a way I wouldn’t have thought possible, and I longed for the ability to leave a single note in response. I wanted to tell them to enjoy life, to forget their fears and their fights with their family and friends. I wanted to tell them to enjoy the here and now. I let out a small laugh. Here I was—seventeen, dead, and thoroughly nostalgic.

I ran my fingers across a picture someone had taken of Jordan and me last year in the hallway. Our faces were pressed together as we smiled for the camera.

Jordan.

I needed to find her, and standing in front of my locker feeling sorry for myself wasn’t getting me anywhere. I wondered again what could have happened to keep her from finding me. I leaned against the locker next to mine.

Dammit, Jordan. Where are you?

The bell rang and students filled the hallway once again. I didn’t care how many of them passed through me or how cold it’d feel. Miles didn’t return—I knew he wouldn’t. He only exchanged books once before lunch, and only once afterward.

I thought more friends and students might stop and add to my locker, but no one did. I was big news yesterday. A few people looked its direction, while others walked past. In a week, the cleaning crew would rip everything off my locker and throw it all away. Next year, my locker would belong to someone else. Maybe they’d be teased about it once belonging to a dead girl. Maybe they wouldn’t.

This hurt. Really hurt. It shouldn’t have—not like this, but the ache in my chest said differently. In thirty seconds, the bell signaling the start of next period would ring. I wandered out into the middle of the hall feeling sorry for myself.

“Keely!”

The voice was unmistakable. Surprised to hear it, I wheeled around.

“Keely! It’s really you.”

My breath caught, my feet froze at the sight of her.

Jordan had found me.

For a moment, I struggled to comprehend what I was seeing. Jordan. My sister. Finally.

“Keely! It’s you!” Her eyes glistened with tears, a hand rising to her trembling lip.

“Jordan?” I blinked. “Jordan!”

We ran to each other. We clutched and hugged one another so fiercely it hurt. We cried—I’m not sure if there were words or not, but then sisters don’t always need words. I clung to her, unable to pull myself away for fear this was a dream. Once again, she was part of my world and all things were possible.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see—”

“Shhh!”
Jordan said.
“Shhh.”

I squeezed her tighter, holding on to her as though I’d drown in an unseen abyss if I ever let go of her. I smelled her hair, soft and clean—untouched by death. Pete might have stolen my sister from me in the living world, but here, Jordan was just as I remembered. Or, maybe it was because nothing could ever truly stand between us, not time, nor death—we were now as we would always be—five and twelve and seventeen, ageless and perfect in each other’s eyes.

Shaking, I stepped back, although I still held her hands in mine. She wore different clothes than when I’d seen her last—the blue dress she’d been buried in. At some point, she’d returned to the house long enough to change into jeans, sneakers, and a stretchy, long-sleeve t-shirt.

We tried to hush each other’s cries, the effort only succeeded in making us laugh and then cry a little more. When we finally stopped long enough to breathe, we realized we weren’t alone. I didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to see Banning or Daniel’s eyes on me. I didn’t think they’d understand everything I felt inside right now. This was between Jordan and me.

After everything that’d happened, the time I’d spent searching for her, the time I’d spent without her all seemed forever ago. Yet I was certain that if I dared to blink, dared to take another breath, she’d be lost to me again. Surely, harm would come to her if I didn’t hold on to her for...dear life?

But life was behind us now. At least the only one we’d ever known. Still, all I could feel, all I could think of was this one moment.

“I’m here, now. I’m here.” Jordan kissed my forehead and stroked my hair. “I’m right here,” she repeated. I buried my face in her hair, inhaling her scent, committing it to memory in case I ever lost sight of her again. After everything I’d done, everything I’d been through, no matter what else had been taken from me, I’d never lost faith that I’d find my sister. I’d lost sight of heaven, God, and everything good, but not Jordan. Some things transcended both life and death. Some things never died.

“I never gave up,” I said. “I knew I’d find you.”

Her voice broke when she laughed. “Technically, I found you.”

“What took you so long, then?” I asked.

Her eyes flashed away from me and her smile faltered.

“Jordan? What’s wrong?” Fear of what might have happened to her during her time in purgatory gripped me. She’d been through far too much already.

“I’m fine. Really.”

She might have fooled the world with her lie and well-rehearsed smile, but not me. Every smile, every shrug, every sigh was a story I knew by heart. “Jordan—”

Banning cleared his throat, and I sensed the moment between me and Jordan had gone.

“I’ve already been introduced,” Jordan told me, before I could say anything. She straightened, wiping her eyes. “I came across them in the hall. They told me where to find you.”

I managed an appreciative smile, even though I still worried.

“Perhaps we should go elsewhere,” Banning said. “I’m sure you two have plenty to talk about.

Jordan grinned. “Sounds like a good idea.” She hugged me for another long moment.

The hallways were empty as we made our way past the classrooms. The sound of teachers and students talking caught my attention. A week ago, I’d have tuned it out as background noise. But this might be the last time Jordan and I would hear the familiar voices. Sunlight beamed through the class doors as we walked down the florescent-lit hall toward the exit.

The four of us stepped out into the autumn day with its crisp, blue sky, but I still felt caught between shadow and light.

“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” Jordan asked.

“Yeah. Hard to believe I’m walking out these doors for the last time,” I said.

Daniel squinted into the sun and shrugged. “Depends on your perspective. Alive or dead? Because it doesn’t necessarily mean that was the last time. You can always go back.”

I had no way to explain it, but this
was
the last time. At least it was the last time I’d see the hallways in even remotely the same way, the last time I’d see Miles and Gina and the other familiar faces as fellow students looking forward to their senior year.

When we left the school, we didn’t go back to the house. Instead, we walked to a nearby park where a few joggers huffed past, young mothers pushed strollers, people walked their dogs, and a gaggle of Canadian geese cruised across a small lake. I’d wanted to return home with Jordan, to sit in one of our rooms exchanging smiles and dreams like we used to. Now that I had been reunited with my sister, I wanted us near our parents.