Touching the Surface (13 page)

the funny
thing about
wishes

“Elliot, I died for you.” His shoulders slumped and his voice was just a whisper. “I didn’t know what I was doing, but my soul did. Sure, I unbuckled my seat belt to put my little sister back in her car seat, but I also did it for you on some unconscious level. I decided to take that risk in order to force you into an intense examination of yourself. I made a choice and a promise when I was leaving the Basin to do what I needed to do as your Passenger. You picked me. I didn’t
know
it in my last life, but I was hardwired to connect with you in the most intense way possible. To be the catalyst for you to realize who you really are. Damn it, I’m still trying to do that.”

What? He’d died on purpose? For me? It couldn’t be. I felt dirty, stained.

I tore off down the hall, unable to search deeper, afraid of what I might possibly learn about myself if I stayed. I raced straight to my room, ignoring everyone else along the way. I couldn’t risk another personal interaction that might end in disappointment, but when I passed by Freddie’s desk I couldn’t help but pilfer the soft, blue plaid flannel shirt that was hanging on a brass hook. I stuck my nose into the kind of softness that only comes with time and breathed in the scent of apples and cinnamon. It wasn’t his aroma; he’d been filching pie from the kitchen again.

My stomach rumbled, but the need to hide away and watch the eagles was stronger than my need for comfort food. I couldn’t stand the heaviness of my thoughts anymore. Couldn’t they be weightless for a change? I wanted to soar. What would it feel like to leap with abandon and ride the currents? Imagine launching into the unknown. Could falling be only a heartbeat away from flying?

It was nowhere near bedtime, but I pulled off my clothes and dove into Freddie’s shirt. I wasn’t going anywhere and I wanted to be able to pretend I was asleep when Julia arrived. I didn’t know what to say to her. I let my finger trail across the ledge, over to the paper cranes. My heart skipped a beat. There had to be at least fifty cranes in different sizes and colors, standing at attention.

When had she made them and, more important, why?

My head was throbbing. I couldn’t think about those delicate origami birds. I perched on my window seat, scanning the sky and waiting. I wanted to see something real, not cleverly folded paper that masqueraded as something true. I rubbed my silver eagle feather charm. It felt familiar and strange at the same time.

I couldn’t remember how the necklace had come to me, but I must have acquired it on one of my other visits to the Obmil. Tokens from life don’t travel with souls into the afterlife, but gifts made in the afterlife have a way of sticking with a person. Here at the Obmil, the charm was a cool and tangible connection that I could place my fingers on. In my last life it would’ve been to be your Passenger of herhiI bit my lipthe ghost of a necklace, a niggling feeling that there was something I could tap into if I could only access it. It would have felt like intuition, guiding me, if I was paying attention.

Sighing, I pressed my thumbs into my eye sockets. My headache had deepened from the effort of thinking in spirals. I looked back out across the lake. There they were, the two eagles. They were free and I was envious. Could I fly away from the Obmil? My lids became heavy, exhaustion catching up with me as I wondered how far you really did have to travel to leave limbo.

•  •  •

I was aware of the cool night air blowing across my face before I registered anything else. I shifted slightly, eyes still closed. I could smell the nightly bonfire from down on the beach. I stretched, rotating my sleepy, stiff muscles, as I snuggled deeper under the warmth of the down comforter.

“What the—ouch!” I sat up in a rush and smacked the top of my head against the inside storm shutter that must’ve come loose from its hook on the wall. I tried to search the room while extricating myself from the tangle of blankets, but all I could see were stars shooting around in my own head.

“Who’s here?” I yelled. The smell that hit me was wrong—it wasn’t Julia. Who did I know that smelled like pinecones and jelly beans?

The final indignity was tipping off the window seat into a heap on the floor. My head was half buried in down, and suddenly I didn’t care if there was an axe murderer in the room. I just lay there, rubbing the goose egg on my noggin. Damn thing felt more like an ostrich egg.

“How’d you know I was here?” the voice asked. It was soft like the breeze in summer.

Really? Pinecones and jelly beans? Trevor? I must’ve been quite distracted when I was pinned beneath him at the pond. I didn’t remember that at all.

“Elliot?”

The gentleness of his voice ran a finger down my back to the base of my spine, sending goose bumps everywhere. Goose bumps were better than goose eggs.

“Elliot, you okay down there?”

He actually sounded a little concerned, like I might’ve knocked myself unconscious during my acrobatic fit. I thought about playing dead, but then I realized how ridiculous that was and couldn’t stop giggling.

“What’s the joke?” he asked, his voice traveling to me from across the room. I flipped over and sat up, gazing out the window. I needed to give myself a moment. No eagles, but lights, similar to the aurora borealis, rippled in the black sky. I turned to look at him.

Trevor was sitting on the floor, his back angled against the door to my room. His knees were propped up but I could see enough of him in the starlight to know that his black T-shirt was absent its usual commentary. He was mindlessly banging his thumb in a rhythmic beat against his thigh.

I stood up, piling my blanket back onto the window seat. I could feel myself growing increasingly warm despite the cool air blowing my oversized flannel shirt around my knees, the very same knees that seemed to no longer be qualified to hold my own weight. I wanted to ask what he was doing in my room, but he was busy mumbling something under his breath.
He stared at me with a steady gaze, but I didn’t believe he was relaxed at all. His fingers were making tracks through his hair.

“The comforter,” I said.

“Huh?”

“You asked how I knew you were here. It was the comforter. I hadn’t been wrapped up when I fell asleep.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“You covered me?” I asked.

“Your toes were cold.”

“How did you know my toes were cold?”

“I accidentally brushed up against them when I checked to see if you were Delving. Julia thought you might be sleeping up here and didn’t want to wake you. I said I’d check.” He shrugged as if going around and testing people for Delves was an average, everyday occurrence. Like hanging out with Julia was what he always did. He shrugged as if being here with me was completely random. Then I noticed the way he was fiddling with the laces of his boots.

I wanted to feel violated that he’d snuck into my room uninvited while I was sleeping, angry that he was with Julia before he came to see me, but I didn’t. I had the unexpected feeling that he was here because he needed me. The fragile tenderness had returned from those moments at the pond. My heart beat like the wings of a baby bird.

“Thank you—for covering me.”

“What, no huffing and puffing? No lecture for sneaking up on you even if I had a good reason?” His voice had a scratchiness to it, like he’d been sitting quietly for a long time. He was baiting me. I decided my best bet was to ignore it.

“You said you had a good reason for being here?” Luckily, I sounded calm, but inside I was ready to spring in a million directions. I grabbed at a lock of hair, wrapping and unwrapping it around my finger.

He sighed. “You’re twisted, Elliot.”

I tried to drop my hand but I’d gotten myself tangled in my own hair. Before I could unknot myself, he was on his feet and moving closer.

“You need to Delve.” He was fixed on me like a hawk tracking a baby bunny.

I freed myself just in time to throw my palms up in surrender. “I’ll be there in the morning. I’m not hiding from this anymore.”

I peeked down at my toes. They were getting cold again now that they were hanging out on the night floor. But pulling on my woolly socks wasn’t an option. I didn’t need to make my outfit look any more embarrassing than it already was. I added, “Something’s been bothering me. I didn’t really have time to think about it before, but . . . I don’t know how I died.”

He moved to within a foot of me. “Not tomorrow. We
need to Delve now. I can’t wait, Elliot. I’ve been thinking about this too and I have to know what happened.” He needed me to Delve? Well, that explained why Julia couldn’t help him.

“I—I think I might have killed myself,” I spat out. The cold in my feet moved upward, freezing my heart so it could barely beat. “Things were so bad and I was feeling so dead inside.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“Jesus, Elliot. I don’t want to hear that.” He began pacing the floor like the walls held him here against his will. “There are too many unknowns to start making stupid guesses. Like we need to worry about your eternal damnation when we can’t even figure out what I was ready to confess.”

“So this is about you? I should have known.” Here I was worried that I’d comm want to go back therewhibI itted a cosmically irreversible offense. I could end up banished to hell and he was only concerned about himself. My fears were more than realistic. Mel had hinted that there were consequences for taking too long to sort out your soul, but I had a feeling there were also ramifications for the really big screwups. It wasn’t so hard to believe that certain crimes were unforgivable. I shivered.

“Oh for God’s sake, this isn’t about who’s the biggest drama queen.” He rolled his eyes. “Even Julia knows that.” I involuntarily reached for my cheek. His harsh words should have left a five-fingered mark on my face.

“Why do you need me? Why can’t you go fall into your own Delve, like you did at the pond?”

He mumbled something that I couldn’t make out.

“What?”

His head shot up sharply. “Don’t you think I would if I could? That I haven’t tried? I’d been standing in that spot forever, staring at the stagnant fucking water. I didn’t drop into that goddamn Delve until you wound your way up the path.”

I sucked in my breath. I hadn’t known. And why did it feel like my chest was being crushed, to hear him say that he’d tried to Delve without me? So stupid.

“We just need to Delve so we can find out what happened. I need to know!” He exhaled, pushing his demands in my face.

“What? What do you need to know?”

“Come on, are you going to make me say it? How much are you going to take from me?”

I jumped back as if I’d touched a live wire.

“I don’t know why I told you I was just as responsible as you for Oliver’s death. We already know you caused that. So what the hell was I talking about?”

God! He was so insensitive. My teeth ground together.

“That’s not the only thing, Elliot. The other problem is that I don’t know why I followed you here. Obviously, I came to the Obmil because I didn’t figure out what I needed to
during my life, but why did I come
right
after you? Nothing makes any sense the way we left it. All I know for sure right now is that you killed my brother.” His lip started to tremble. “But I think it’s my fault too.” He took a deep breath. “We also know that Oliver hates me but loves you. So I’m thinking, I did something pretty damn terrible. Elliot, please. You know better than anyone what it feels like to be the walking dead. You saw what your past self looked like when I found you.” Tears were running down his face and now his T-shirt glowed softly . . . 
DON’T FOLLOW ME, I’M LOST TOO.

I couldn’t help it; I moved closer and touched the tip of my finger against a tear sliding down his cheek.

•  •  •

“Elliot, I’m just as much to blame for Oliver’s death as you are.”

Before I realized there was a tear sliding down the side of Trevor’s cheek, my finger had already reached out to touch it. His eyes were huge. I’d seen them full of rage and anger, full of hostility. This was different. Now they were bottomless. He was floating through my Delve without an anchor.

“ to be your Passengerre.hiI was fourteen years old when my parents had Abby. That made Oliver lucky number thirteen. We were just a year apart and more like twins. We did everything together, until Abby came along.”

I traced that single tear down his jaw line.

“Our sister was a surprise, but my parents were completely thrilled to have a girl, insane with joy, in fact. And she was beautiful—a real charmer.
Had us all wrapped around her little finger in a matter of hours.”

Trevor shrugged his shoulders, as if he didn’t know how to adequately explain it.

“So what was the problem?” I prodded.

“The problem is that I’m a self-centered jerk and—”

“And . . .”

“And I was jealous. Abby seemed to prefer Oliver to me, just like everyone always did.” Trevor’s voice dropped even lower. “I—I felt like a third wheel when I was with them. It sounds so goddamn stupid when I say it out loud, but there isn’t any other way to say it.” He moaned from someplace deep.

“It doesn’t make you a bad guy just because you had a selfish thought or two,” I said softly.

“But it wasn’t just a thought, don’t you see?” He pounded his hand into his fist. “I started acting on those thoughts. I avoided Oliver, wanting him to see what it felt like to be left out. But it backfired. He was hurt. He overcompensated, spending more time with Abbs because I was pushing him away. They got closer and I pushed harder. It was so fucking stupid.”

Trevor>

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