Everlong: (Book One of the Everlong Trilogy) (25 page)

I couldn't keep my eyes off her, the way she crossed her legs under the desk, the curve of her back as she leaned over to draw, the way her pony-tail swayed as she moved, the light from the window highlighting the pale skin of her neck. I held tightly onto my mug. How different things could've been if I wasn't a freak, if we could be together. If she had actually wanted me.

'Let's have a look,' I said, dropping the mug down on the bedside table.

'Not yet, it's a bit rough,' she said, without looking back at me.

I pulled my legs out of the bed and swung them around to sit up on the edge. I caught sight of the picture she was working on.

‘Wow.’

'It's for a project in art. Angels through time. I'm going for the Gothic look.'

A lump caught in my throat as I looked at the picture; an angel (a self-portrait of Evie herself, perhaps?) slumped in the middle of the paper, tears running down her cheeks.

Angels? Really? What a sick twist of fate.

'You're very talented-'

'You're just saying that.'

'No. No, I'm not,' I said, studying the smudge of charcoal on her cheek. It was getting a little too hot for comfort in her bedroom, despite the pain, just being close to her was making my back burn and I just wanted to...

She turned back to her work, but I stayed on the edge of the bed. A few stray hairs on the back of her neck caught my attention. I wanted to move them, let my fingers brush over her skin as I did so, let my lips trace over the base of her neck.

'What's up, have I got something on me?' she asked, feeling the back of her neck with her hand.

'No. Nothing,' I said, guiltily.

'Then what're you looking at?' she said, turning to face me.

'Nothing, honestly.'

'You're putting me off,' she said, smiling.

'Sorry,' I said, holding my hands up, 'I'll just lie back down.'

'That might be a good idea,' she said, laughing as she turned around.

I lay back on the bed, my soul aching for her to lie down next to me.

No, it was all so wrong.

When she went to school tomorrow I would leave, never come back. It was better that way. Death would not win.

Evie

When I woke the next morning, I kept my eyes closed for a moment, not wanting to open them, not wanting to break the spell, but eventually I knew I had to, I couldn't stay there forever.

Life doesn't stay still for anyone or anything.

We'd somehow both fallen to sleep on top of the bed. Josh was still lying next to me, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling gently. I watched him for a while, then bent down to kiss him tenderly on the forehead, letting my lips linger on his skin, inhaling his sweet scent that reminded me of honey. I committed it all to memory so that I knew that this had once been real.

This was my goodbye; when I got back from home he would be gone.

I left the house - Dan and Cassie were still in bed - and rang Sam; I couldn't be on my own today, I needed a distraction to keep me from thinking about the hole opening up in my gut, and the hours rolling out in front of me before I went back home and found that he'd gone.

I told him to leave, right? So why did I feel so crap about it?

Jesus, I was frickin crazy. And frickin needy.

How was anyone else supposed to keep up with me when I didn't know what I wanted myself? The only thing I did know for sure was that I didn't want to be Cassie.

I met Sam for breakfast at Sofia's. He was already there, sitting in a booth by the window, stuffing himself with American pancakes and an espresso. I just had a latte - I couldn't stomach anything else - my body and my mind were distracted, back at home. In bed with Josh.

But I had to forget him. I would not allow myself to be Cassie.

'Hey, earth to Ev!' said Sam, pushing my arm gently.

'Oh, sorry,' I said, feeling the flush of red crawl up my face, embarrassed at what I'd been thinking about right in front of him. It almost felt like my mother was in the room.

'Bad night?' he asked, 'They been at it again?'

I nodded, then looked away quickly before he saw through my lie. And now I felt ashamed that I was just getting my best friend back and I was still lying to him. No, not lying exactly, but I wasn't telling him about Josh was I?

It was my dirty little secret. And that's the way it would stay.

'Come on,' he said, 'we better get to school and hopefully your brain might catch us up on the way.'

I smacked him on the arm, 'Funny!'

'I try,' he said, as we left the cafe. Outside the dark sky threatened rain, so we hurried to school, arriving at the gates just as the storm started; sheeting rain accompanied by thunder and lightning. Sam and I held our bags over our heads and ran for class.

After Registration, we all headed off to English and preparation for a timed essay which I'd completely forgotten about. I sat down at my table, and grabbed my pens, pad of notes, and book out of my bag. I looked at the white-board, and the question scrawled across it in red pen:

"What is the role of the half-being in Carter's stories? What does their liminal experience tell us about our own human experience? Include at least two of the following types of character: werewolf, vampire, beast, feral child."

I knew I'd read something, somewhere about it. Something about the liminal character facing torment because they don't belong in reality or in the un-real world, or was it something to do with questioning gender roles?

How was I supposed to know?

I stared at my book hoping for inspiration, but my mind wouldn't co-operate, it kept drifting off to my bed, back to Josh. I kept picturing him lying there asleep; his naked chest above the covers, revealing his wings. My skin tingled as I imagined lying down next to him, placing my lips on his. I couldn't believe how alive I felt, every part of me seemed to respond when I thought about him. With all this going on, how could I concentrate on a stupid essay?

After so long feeling nothing, these feelings and emotions were flooding my system, and I was becoming addicted to them; I only wanted to think about Josh. I wanted to stay in that dream forever.

I had never felt like this about Dexter.

I looked over to him. He was hunched over his pad of paper, scribbling notes, Amber sitting beside him. She looked up at me, her eyes locking on to mine, and for once I didn't look away as she glared, her nostrils flaring like a bull that was about to go on a rampage. It wasn't pretty.

Mrs Jones coughed, so I turned back around and looked at my notes, but I wasn't actually reading them.

Was I really that fickle to transfer my feelings from Dexter to Josh? Was I really that tragic?

I looked back at Dexter - this time free from Amber's gaze - and watched his hand move quickly over his notepad, watched the way he stuck his tongue out over his bottom lip as he worked, and I felt nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

And yet, Josh, he made me feel alive, like I'd known him forever.

The bell went for break and I brushed everything off the table and into my bag. Amber rushed past, roughly bumping into me.

'Something smells around here,' she said, grabbing onto Dexter's hand before they left the room.

'Don't worry about her,' said Sam, coming to stand beside me, 'how did you find it?'

'Er, what?' I asked, my mind wandering out of the door with Dexter and Amber, and back into bed with Josh. 'Oh, the essay planning? Yeah, fine,' I lied. Again. I was getting far too good at that, and I needed to stop it. 'Come on, let's get something to eat.'

We both made our way to the cafeteria. I grabbed two toast, and a bottle of water, then sat down as far away as I could from Amber and Dexter. Sam sat next to me with a plate full of scrambled egg on toast.

'You've had breakfast already,' I said.

He shrugged. 'What can I say? I'm a growing boy.'

I rolled my eyes at him and took another bite of toast.

'You don't still have a thing for him do you?' he asked.

'Who?' I said, pulling my gaze away from Dexter.

'You know who. Dexter.'

'Dexter? No, who said I had a thing for him?' I asked, not looking at Sam but instead taking a mouthful of water.

'Come on Ev, you've been staring at him constantly this morning. And after what he did to you the other day? What's going on?'

'Nothing.'

'Amber's been telling anyone who'll listen that you're stalking him.'

I looked up at him and pulled a face. 'As if.'

'Well, you're doing a good job of proving her right, staring at him is a bit desperate-'

'Desperate?' I asked, my voice incredibly high. 'I am not desperate.' I slammed my water bottle onto the table a little too hard so that some of it splashed over my hand.

'Ok, ok!' said Sam, holding his hands up in surrender, 'But you do fancy him?'

Was that a statement of fact, or a question? 'No.'

'Are you sure?' he asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked at me.

Was I sure? I looked over at Dexter who was laughing at something Kieran had said. Amber was missing. Dexter looked up, catching me looking at him, but I didn't look away. I just stared at him. Eventually he looked away and started playing with his phone. Dexter had never looked at me in the same way Josh did. It didn't feel the same.

No, I felt nothing for him, he'd killed anything that I felt for him days ago. I turned back to Sam and sighed.

'Because I could understand it, if you did.'

'What?'

'I mean, he's unattainable right? So he's safe-'

'Unattainable? What's that supposed to mean? Like I'm not good enough?'

'No. Ev, be serious,' he said, cocking his head to the side, the exasperation clear in his voice, 'You're so much better than him. You know that!' He smacked me playfully on the arm. 'You see, I have this theory about you.'

'A theory? I'm beginning to get worried about you.'

'I think you blame yourself for your father, for your Gran, the way your mom acts. You think it's all your fault-'

'No, I don't!'

'You do, that's why you push everyone away. That's why you push me away. You feel like you don't deserve to be happy.'

'I-' I didn't deserve to be happy. And I certainly didn't deserve Sam.

'You know I'm right. That's why you like Dexter, because there's no chance, because then you won't hurt him and he won't hurt you. Or, if you're so fixed on him you don't have to get close to someone else.'

I stared at him. 'You really need to quit watching Jeremy Kyle.'

'Make fun if you like, but you know I'm right,' he said, smiling.

I shook my head. 'Ok,' I said, feeling like I should make some sort of confession. 'I did like him...but now I don't,' I added quickly, as I saw the smug smile on his face, 'so that blows your theory right out of the water.'

Sam looked at me, his smile disappearing, his eyebrows knitting together on his forehead. 'Maybe, maybe not.'

'You know I did...but I don't, not now,' I repeated, firmly. And for the first time in ages, I spoke the truth. 'Not how he treated me the other day. I'm not like Cassie.'

Sam was quiet, his eyes studying me for a few moments. 'Good,' he said finally, 'because I think he's a jerk.'

'A jerk, eh?' I said smiling at him, 'Since when did you have an opinion on Dexter?'

Again, he looked at me in silence, his eyes almost searching my face for an answer to a question unspoken.

'And you think I'm weird? You're beginning to freak me out.'

'Just be careful, ok? You're too good for him.'

'I'm always careful.'

He looked back at me with his gentle eyes, but he didn't seem convinced.

After break we made our way to art. I'd got so much going on in my head that every brush stroke on the canvas seemed to be wrong as I tried to transfer my charcoal sketch of the weeping angel from paper to paint. My mind was full of the conversation I'd just had with Sam.

Was Sam right? Was Dexter a distraction, so I wouldn't have to think about getting close to someone else?

I didn't think it was as simple as that. But Sam had made me question myself, he had thrown a new light on my old problems.

I had liked Dexter. A lot. But I'd been trying too hard with him, desperately trying to get him to see me when I didn't know who I was myself. I'd ended up getting lost along the way. Somehow, with all the crap that was my life, I had ended up losing myself.

Surely, when you're supposed to be with someone, it should be easy and you shouldn't have to try that hard?

As my head (or heart) wasn't really into painting I'd already tidied up and put my canvas away when the bell went for dinner. Sam was just finishing up so I told him I'd meet him in the cafeteria as I needed the loo. I grabbed my stuff, headed out the door, and to the nearest toilet just down the corridor.