For Ever (22 page)

“Dimensions?”

“Different planes of existence.”

I blink, vague definitions from geometry
swirling in my head. This is the point where I’m supposed to start
believing that he’s an escaped mental hospital patient, but I
can’t. … Because that doesn’t explain anything else that’s happened
since the first day I walked into Art class. Unless I’m crazy,
too.

“Am I losing my mind?”

“No,” he says without a trace of humor.

“All right. If this isn’t some kind of
hallucination, then explain. Why do you look human?”

Look
human. My entire body feels like
it’s levitating off the bench.

“It would be rather difficult to blend in if
I didn’t,” he says, the smallest measure of humor returning to his
tone.

“Yeah, about that. I hate to be the one to
break it to you, but you don’t blend in now.”

“No?” he smiles.

His response makes me laugh a little.

“Definitely not.”

My smile fades as I come to terms once more
with the inevitability that Ever and I don’t belong in the same
realm, literally or figuratively. But he’s here, and I still need
answers.

“How long have you been here?”

He doesn’t answer right away, and the
cautious look in his eyes makes me nervous.

“Time exists very differently for me than it
does for you.”

My eyes glaze over as I grasp a buried
memory.

“
Time is nothing
,” I whisper.

I look up at him, and this time it’s his
expression that’s frozen into place. My skin tingles. Those were
his
words that echoed in my head.

“How old are you?” I blurt out, afraid of the
answer as soon as I ask the question.

He smiles again, which unnerves me more.

“According to your concept of time? Mine?
Chronologically? Physically? Across time and space?”

The fact that I need to clarify this is
unsettling.

“Um, physically?”

He studies me.

“I suppose eighteen, give or take a year or
two.”

I exhale, not sure I’m ready to think about
the other ways he might consider his age.

“And what are you doing
here
?”

His jaw clenches, and I stiffen. It’s
difficult to tell which comments will cause him to withdraw, since
there seems to be little rhyme or reason to his reactions.

“I have been waiting.”

The look in his eyes is so intense that I
have to stop every few seconds and check that I’m still
breathing.

“For what?”

The depth of pain and regret that I saw in
his eyes the day before flashes across his face.

“You.”

I shake my head.

“What do you mean?
Waiting
. For
me
? Why?”

My voice sounds weak, uneven.

“Because I have become what I hunt.” His face
twists into a sneer. “A monster.”

Hunt
? He looks away from me, and I
take another shaky breath.

“What do you
hunt
?”

My voice is barely a whisper now. Ever
doesn’t look at me, but I know he heard my question.

“You might call them demons. They are
entities without shape or form. They exist between planes, waiting
for an opportunity. A rift.”

“What kind of,” I swallow again, “rift?”

His expression is conflicted when his eyes
finally meet mine. This makes me exceptionally nervous in light of
his earlier apathy. I bite my lip and hold my breath.

“You. Your mind, your soul or spirit—whatever
you choose to call it—and your body. They use people like you to
cross over, to become tangible again.”

“Wait. Time out.
Me
? Why?”

My breath stalls in my chest as I remember
his question from the night in the Japanese Garden. Do I
really
want to know the truth?

“Because you are an anomaly. The way your
mind works, because of what you can see and hear—it makes you an
ideal vessel.”

Anomaly? Vessel?

“And then what happens to me?”

I know even before he begins to speak that
the news is bad.

“You cease to exist,” he says quietly. His
tone is unequivocal.

My mind goes blank, and it feels like I’m
floating in blackness.

“Wren?”

“Any chance you’ve got the wrong person?”

He shakes his head, but I could already tell
that from his taut expression.

“How long do I have?” I ask, smiling weakly.
“I haven’t heard back on my college applications yet.”

I laugh, but it turns into more of a sob. I
can feel my tears brimming over as Ever kneels down in front of me.
His expression is uneasy and increasingly helpless, which just
makes me cry harder. The pressure of his hand grasping mine
surprises me, but not as much as when his arms wrap around my
shoulders. The next second, I’m on my feet standing so close to him
that I’ve completely forgotten why I’m crying. He steadies me
before stepping back, and I have to fight off an absurd sense of
disappointment.

“No harm is going to come to you,” he says,
his eyes burning into mine. “I won’t allow it.”

The resolute expression in his eyes almost
makes me laugh, which makes me wonder again if I’ve completely lost
my mind. I sniff.

“Can I ask you kind of a weird question?” I
ask.

“You may, but your mother is waiting for us,”
he says, taking my elbow and carefully maneuvering me to the
sidewalk.

My curiosity seems silly considering what he
just told me, but I still have to know.

“Why the zombie act at school? I mean, why
not at least pretend to be normal? Because, in case you haven’t
noticed, everyone thinks you’ve been lobotomized.”

“Have you waited in line at the Department of
Motor Vehicles?”

I nod, envisioning the dull lighting,
uncomfortable chairs, and general dreariness.

“Sure. When I got my license.”

“Imagine that uninterrupted for a lifetime,
constantly waiting for something, knowing it will be unpleasant.
Would you bother making an effort?”

I consider this.

“That’s horrible. But it can’t always have
been like that, right? What about when you were a kid?”

I study him, but his expression is
unreadable.

“I never was.”

My eyebrow arches.

“Wait. You were never a little kid?”

“Not from your perspective.”

I stop walking and look at him.

“Explain.”

“I’ve had to learn and adapt, but for as long
as I’ve been here, I have always been in this form.”

I shake my head.

“Always?”

“During this existence.”

This
existence
.

“You mean you’ve never been younger than
this?”

He grasps my elbow lightly and pulls me along
until we’re walking again.

“No.”

“Then will you get older?”

“No.”

His tone is so matter-of-fact that it takes
me a second to absorb this.

“Wow.”

He stops walking, and I see that we’re
standing in front of my house.

“What about … ?”

He raises his hand, glancing toward the
house.

“It’s late. No more questions tonight.”

“But I have so many!” I plead.

In fact, I have so many questions that I’m
having a hard time keeping track of them. Ever begins propelling me
up the walkway. I see the curtain move, but when I open the door,
my mom is curled up on the couch, a little too engrossed in her
book.
Nice, Mom
. She looks up at us with her most innocent
expression. Mr. Hannigan must have gone home a while ago.

“Caroline, thank you for your hospitality,”
Ever says evenly. “I apologize for keeping Wren so late.”

I glance at him. It was more
me
keeping him out late, but I’m not about to split hairs. Besides, I
highly doubt that Ever has a curfew. Putting down her book, my mom
gets up from the couch.

“Ever, you’re not staying for dessert?” she
asks, sounding transparently disappointed.

“No, but thank you.”

“Well, Ever, it was wonderful having you
over. I hope we’ll see you again soon.”

She shoots me a look.

“Wren, I’m going to head upstairs. There’s
cake on the counter if you want it.”

“Thanks. I’ll be up in a minute.”

I wait until she climbs the stairs in the
hope that she’s not listening from the landing. Then I turn and
gesture toward the door.

“I’ll walk you out.”

With the door closed behind us again, I take
a deep breath and try to think of something to say.

“Thank you.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“For telling me the truth,” I finish.

He laughs quietly, but the sound is tinged
with bitterness.

“That’s hardly something to thank me
for.”

His brow creases as he watches me.

“I mean thank you for trusting me,” I
clarify. “But I don’t understand. Why did you?”

He sighs.

“You were correct the other night. You have a
right to know the truth; I owe you that much.”

I shouldn’t be disappointed in his answer,
but I am, though I don’t know what I had been hoping for. A
declaration of true love? He appears deep in thought, and I feel a
shred of hope for once that he didn’t register my thoughts. Biting
my lip, I decide to take a risk.

“Can I ask you one more thing? A favor?”

Ever’s eyes slowly return to mine. He
nods.

“Can you stay out of my head from now on? It
would be … easier on me.”

My smile is shaky. Even after his grim
revelation that shapeless beings are waiting to use me as a meat
puppet, I still can’t help worrying that my feelings for him are
going to embarrass me and make him uncomfortable.

“Good night, Wren.”

He walks to the sidewalk, and my breath
catches when he stops and looks over his shoulder.

“Would you like a ride to school in the
morning?”

I nod slowly, afraid to speak, and watch as
he disappears into the darkness before hurrying inside. I shut the
door after me, leaning against the wood for support. Then I try to
stem the rush of emotion: the confusion, the fear, and the
overpowering and illogical love. For a space boy.

My room is still dark when I open my eyes.
Rolling over, I stare at the alarm clock’s glowing numerals. It’s
just before six, and I’ve been awake almost the entire night. I
should be exhausted, but I’m not. Springing out of bed, I begin
rushing through my morning routine. I’m almost done when I catch a
glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. I look different. My cheeks
are flushed, and my eyes are bright. I look
happy
. Truly
happy.

Ever Casey isn’t a vampire, an alien, an
angel, or anything else I could have come up with from movies or
fairy tales. He is something I cannot define and may never
completely understand. But it doesn’t matter. Because the knowledge
hasn’t changed what I feel.

Hurrying downstairs to the kitchen, I pour a
glass of orange juice and chug it. And I barely even notice that my
toast is blackened. As soon as I’ve brushed my teeth, I grab my
stuff and step out the front door.

It’s very cold, very quiet, and very dark
beyond the porch light. I’m planning to read until Ever shows
up—that is
if
he shows up. Setting my backpack on the
stairs, I sit down and look out at the street, jumping when I
notice a familiar sedan sitting at the curb. In the dark, I can
just barely make out the silhouette of a man leaning against its
side. I squint as he straightens and opens the passenger-side door.
The dome light comes on, illuminating Ever’s face.

Grabbing my backpack, I walk down the stairs,
trying to avoid tripping on the uneven spots of pavement between
the house and the curb. Ever smiles when I reach him, and even in
the darkness I can see the change in his features. He looks more at
ease—almost happy. My cheeks flush. It’s always been hard to look
away from him, but even more so now. I wonder if the fact that I
know the truth is a relief for him, too.

Smiling, I point at my watch.

“It’s kinda early.” I am grossly understating
the obvious. “Were you here all night or something?”

He smiles again, his expression amused.

“You weren’t,
were
you?”

I study him more carefully. His clothes are
fresh, and he looks as flawless as he always does. I feel silly for
thinking that he slept in his car.

“Good morning,” he says, interrupting my
internal rambling.

“Hi.”

I wobble as the weight of my backpack
evaporates. Ever sets the bag in the backseat and gestures to the
open door. I sit down and reach for my seatbelt, and Ever appears
in the driver’s seat before I’ve even clicked it into place.

“How do you do that?” I ask, half
exasperated, half in awe.

“Magic,” he says wryly.

I smile.

“
Ri-ght
.”

He starts the car, and I look down at my
hands. The revelations from the night before seem like a dream now,
and given his tendency—until last night—to avoid talking about
anything having to do with himself, it’s hard to tell if we’re
still maintaining the same level of honesty during daylight hours.
On the other hand, it’s not quite dawn yet.

When I see that we’ve already turned off my
street, I realize that I barely felt the car accelerating. Ever
glances in my direction.

“I apologize for not telling you last night,
but I thought I had given you enough to digest. … The truth is I
had an ulterior motive in offering you a ride this morning.”

Of course he did. My euphoria recedes
instantly, and Ever looks over at me again. This time he appears
exasperated.

“That is not the way I meant—”

I raise my hand.

“
Stop
! I told you last night. It’ll be
better if you just ignore what’s going on in my head. Please,
Ever.”