For Ever (28 page)

“He asked me to give you this.”

I stare down at my hand, willing it to pick
up the box. There’s only one problem: I’m not sure I want to know
what Ever left for me. My only source of solace is in the fact that
the box looks too small to contain a lengthy good-bye note.

“It isn’t going to bite.”

Chasen’s sarcasm incinerates my indecision. I
snatch up the box and flip open the lid. Studying the small, oblong
pendant, I can’t tell whether it’s made from metal or stone. It’s
beautiful and iridescent, its surface changing in the light. It
reminds me of the shape that Ever had been bending magically across
his fingers the day I first saw him outside, the one I had mistaken
for a coin. It’s an infinity symbol—forever. My eyes begin to tear
up, and I turn away. Chasen allows the rest of the ride to pass by
in silence, and I’m grateful for that. When the SUV rolls to a
stop, I see a darkly tinted version of my house.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Any time.”

I glance over at him, and he doesn’t seem as
scary as before. Not exactly friendly, but not as menacing. Jumping
out, I slam the door behind me and hurry toward the front door
feeling even more confused than I did fifteen minutes ago. Ever
left a present for me? With Chasen of all possible candidates? And
he asked Chasen—who has quite obviously objected to my presence
from the moment he saw me—to watch me while Ever disappeared. To
where exactly?

Or maybe Ever is just gone, I admit to
myself. Forever. Or the rest of my lifetime at least. And there’s
not much I can do about it if that is the case. I don’t think I
could squeeze an answer out of Chasen if I tried, and it’s not
going to help me to fixate on it. Still, I’ve never been one of
those people who can shut out their obsessive thoughts. Eventually
they always come back to roost like Edgar Allan Poe’s raven.

Upstairs in my room, I direct my energies
toward homework with the knowledge that I could spend the next two
hours on math and twenty minutes on each of the rest of my classes
and still be hanging on by a fingernail in Algebra II. This thought
annoys me more than usual. Why couldn’t I be a math genius like
Cammy Wong, the girl in my AP U.S. History class at Pali who had
already received her early admission letter from MIT?

When most of my homework is done, I head
downstairs to look for dinner. The stillness of the house is
pervasive with the exception of the clock on the mantle. Its
ticking grates on me until I stomp into the living room to turn on
some music. Returning to the kitchen feeling no less anxious, I
search the refrigerator and then decide to boil water for pasta.
While the pasta cooks, I slice tomatoes and tear some lettuce for a
skimpy salad.

When I get back upstairs, I sit down in front
of the computer and look up Short Sands and Cannon beaches, our
potential destinations for Sunday. Both beaches look interesting,
but I can’t summon a huge amount of enthusiasm. After cleaning the
kitchen, I get back to my room and feel my eyes wander to the
silver box sitting untouched on my desk. I reach for it before I
lose my nerve.

Flipping open the lid, I touch its surface
and see that the infinity shape is attached to a chain. A necklace.
I clasp the chain behind my neck as I walk to the mirror. It’s very
beautiful, like nothing I’ve seen before. But I feel guilty for
putting it on, even though it’s the only connection to Ever that I
have right now. Part of me knows it might be the last I’ll have. A
memento. Going to the dresser, I grab a pair of pajamas, craving
the oblivion of sleep. The only problem is I’m afraid of what I’ll
find there.

Time passes by in slow motion, and it occurs
to me that maybe it’s how time passed before I first saw Ever.
This
, I realize, is normal. Even Chasen has disappeared,
having accomplished his task. On Thursday after school, I ride with
Ashley to her house, where Lindsay and Taylor meet us. Within
minutes of the three of us gathering in her room, Ashley has half
the contents of her closet laid out on her bed.

“Black skirt, turquoise top,” Lindsay says
with an air of authority. “Wait, hold them up. Never mind. Red
V-neck maybe.”

By five o’clock, Ashley has tried on almost
every possible combination of clothing at least twice. She’s
chewing her lip and debating with a look of concentration that
makes it appear like she’s trying to disarm a nuclear device. But
I’m one to talk, having focused an unhealthy proportion of
brainpower on Ever. This sends a sudden stab of uncertainty through
me. Really, how could I be in
love
?

What was it I had first seen in Ever? His
face. His appearance. Would I have looked twice if he had been less
than perfect?

I think of Jeff Summers. I had found him more
than a little attractive in the moments I had first seen him. Then
I saw what was going on in his head. Would I still find that cretin
attractive if I couldn’t hear his thoughts? With a sigh, I settle
for being mildly superficial. Then, thinking it over a little more,
I decide to cut myself a break. After all, I’m in good company,
literarily anyway.

Romeo and Juliet?
Romeo’s declaration
of love for Juliet on the heels of his infatuation with Rosalyn was
definitely fickle. And both his “true” loves were beautiful.
Considering Romeo’s quick reversal of affection, I wonder: will I
forget Ever, given enough time—or a good enough distraction? Better
yet, does a good enough distraction exist? Because right now the
thought of kissing someone else seems utterly unappealing. No, more
like downright depressing.

“You guys want to grab dinner?” Ashley asks
as she carefully lays out her final selection.

The rest of us nod, and after helping Ashley
reassemble her closet, we decide on a place not far from school.
It’s a chain, but the others claim it has great pizza. When we get
there, I’m less confident. It’s in a strip mall, sandwiched between
a vacuum retailer and another tanning salon. Inside, music is
blaring from the speakers, and the walls are covered in knickknacks
that look placed with exaggerated strategy—pages torn from comic
books, relics of long-ago fads, paper plates with Barbie dolls
pasted to them. We order our slices and pay for our drinks at the
back register.

Fortunately the pizza makes a better
impression on me than the ambiance, and I feel vindicated not
having wasted my money on terrible pizza. We eat and listen to
Ashley ramble nervously about her date. I feel a sudden swell of
gratitude for my friends, and when Ashley worries aloud for the
tenth time that Marcus is not going to like her outfit or is going
to change his mind about her, I pinch her on the shoulder.

“But seriously, what if he just asked me to
the dance because he thinks of us as friends?” she asks.

I shake my head and make my eyebrows do a
little dance.

“No way. He totally has the hots for
you.”

I can tell that much without even reading his
thoughts.

“We’ve been friends since freshman year,
though,” she continues. “What changed now?”

“Um, he finally got a clue?” I laugh.

Lindsay and Taylor giggle.

“Yeah, Josh, too,” Lindsay says, poking at
Taylor, who blushes.

“Oh, come on.” I roll my eyes at Lindsay.
“And how long did it take you to notice Zach?”

“I noticed him. I was just making him work
for it.”

“Yeah, right,” I accuse, laughing. “You had
no idea.”

“And what about you?” Lindsay teases. “Ever
Casey finally wakes up out of his coma when you get here. Where’d
he disappear to, by the way?”

My throat tightens, and I take a long sip of
my Coke before shrugging.

“I don’t know.”

By Friday morning, I walk to my window and
look outside with no expectations, which is a good thing. The
street is empty—no black sedan, no SUV. Finally, the neighbors will
stop thinking we’re being watched by federal agents or a drug
cartel. Normally I would find some humor in this, but not today. I
pad down the hallway to the bathroom to get ready, wincing at my
reflection in the mirror. I look tired and out of sorts, and I hate
that I feel considerably less enthusiasm for just about everything
now that Ever is gone and probably not coming back.

On the way to the bus stop, my pulse jumps at
the sight of someone walking in my direction. For a single second,
I think it’s Ever. It’s not, of course, but my pulse is still
hammering as I get closer to the figure. Suddenly my skin begins to
crawl, and when a lone car turns the corner, I’m gripped by a
sudden urge to jump in front of it. Instead, I keep walking,
feeling silly. Until I figure out what’s setting my nerves on
edge.

It’s his smile. Like he knows me or
something.

I can see now that he’s about my age, maybe a
few years older. With a spike of relief, I remember that there’s a
community college less than half a mile from our house. He looks
like he could be a college student, his copper hair standing on end
like he just woke up. Despite the eerie smile, his features are
very striking, beautiful even. And while they don’t look at all
alike, the stranger’s appearance reminds me of Ever. Or maybe it’s
just his height. He’s much taller than I am. When I’m still several
feet away from him, I stop, feeling like a deer that has just
caught the scent of a predator.

His eyes are coal black. As I take a step
back, his smile widens.

“Hello, Wren. I’ve been waiting a long time
for you,” he says in a friendly tone.

Shaking my head, I try to convince myself
that I didn’t hear him right. He keeps walking toward me, and I
fall back, landing hard on my backpack. With the wind still knocked
out of me, I scramble backwards and gulp for air to scream. My mind
races in circles. I don’t have my pepper spray, and I’m not sure it
would help me if I did have it.

I don’t think he’s human.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

He stops and looks past me, his smile fading
instantly. But the voice from behind me causes me to melt in
relief.
Ever
.

A hand grasps me from behind and pulls me up.
Still dazed, I realize that I’m staring at Ever’s back. He’s
between the stranger and me. The stranger who is now laughing—at
what, I can’t figure out.

“We have unfinished business, you and I,” he
says cheerfully to Ever. “I could have done without the others, but
this one … I do like the look of her. But then, I suppose you did,
too.”

Ever reaches back and takes my hand, pulling
me in the direction that I came from. But my limbs are still stiff
with fear, which hinders his progress. Finally he wraps an arm
around my shoulders, and some of the fear drains out of me. It
takes several more steps before I remember that I was on my way to
school. As we turn the corner, I look back, but there’s no one
there. I look to Ever, not knowing whether to be angry, relieved,
or terrified. I settle for relieved and a little terrified.

“I’m sorry, Wren,” he says.

“He wasn’t … human,” I gasp.

He doesn’t say anything, and I follow him
numbly for another block. When he stops, I stare at his car, which
is parked only two blocks from my house.

“You’ve been here the whole time?” I
sputter.

He opens the passenger-side door, waiting for
me to get in, and as soon as he appears in the driver’s seat, I
turn to face him.

“No.”

“But your car—”

“I left it here in the event I returned.”

I shake my head, trying to contend with both
developments: the crazy stranger with the dead eyes, and the fact
that Ever truly might have been planning to never return. With a
jolt of fear, it dawns on me that he might just disappear again at
any second. I summon a scrap of willpower and focus on the
immediate danger.

“All right, what just happened?”

“His name is Iago.”

“Shakespeare. Seriously?” Then, reality
catches up with me—how did Ever know the stranger’s
name
?
“Whoa! Hold on! You
knew
him?”

Ever nods.

“He was one of them?” I ask numbly.

A demon, evil spirit, incorporeal being from
another dimension.

“No. He is like us.”

“I don’t understand. Like you? Correct me if
I’m wrong, but wouldn’t that make him one of the good guys?”

I frown. From a human perspective, I’m not
sure Ever would qualify as a “good guy.”

“He’s a traitor.”

As Ever’s fists flex on the steering wheel,
my thoughts begin streaming a mile-a-minute all over again.

“Iago,” I mutter. The traitor from
Othello
. More specifically, the one ultimately responsible
for getting Desdemona killed. “So? If he’s like you, then what does
he want with me?”

“There are only a few, if any, left whose
minds can bear indefinite possession. And those who can have become
a valuable commodity. I expected it would take longer for them to
find you.”

“Them?”

“Bounty hunters.”

My skin turns icy with fear, then
disappointment.

“And you showed up this morning because …” I
trail off as my stomach plummets into my feet. “Because something
was about to happen to me. That’s it, then? I’m a pawn on a
freaking chessboard for the rest of my life? You’re just going to
show up when someone is about to turn me into a meat puppet?”

My eyes begin to tear up, and I turn away
from him, trying to ignore the pain in my chest.

“Forget it,” I whisper. “Just let me out
here. I’ll take my chances.”

This stings more than anything: that the only
thing that keeps bringing Ever back into my life is obligation and
guilt. Turning to look out the window, I see that we’re already
parked at school, at the very end of the student parking lot.
Reaching for the door handle, I yank at it, not wanting him to see
the tears burning the corners of my eyes. I suddenly wish more than
anything that I could shut off my emotions like he can. Before I
can launch myself out of the car, Ever’s hand wraps around mine,
and the door slams on its own—like Jeff Summers’ books flying out
of his hands.