Broken Glass (33 page)

“What?” I asked her, pulling my shirt over my head.

“Looks like we’re going to be eating greasy McDonald’s for a while,” she said, smiling slightly. “I’ve never seen you so tiny, child. What do they feed you in this place?”

I just chuckled and went to my bed, pulling my Tyson box, along wit
h Conner’s art supplies
out from under it.

“Where di
d you get that stuff, Ava?” Mom asked me, nodding at the art stuff in my hand. I looked at it for a second, fondly.

“Just a friend here,” I answered, simply.

“Oh,
how nice,” she commented,
looki
ng around.
“Well, I think that about does it. I’ll go get the car and pull it around front.”

“Okay,” I nodded. “I’ll, um
, tell Josephine to sign us out.
” I watched her as she
walked out of the room, and
let out a heavy sigh. There
was a sudden lump that formed in
my throat and it took all the strength I had to swallow it.

I had some goodbyes to make.

I went to Henry’s door and gently wrapped on it. He opened it almost immediately.

“You’re leaving,” he guessed. I nodded.

“Yeah, Mom’s getting the car now,” I told him. “Julianne didn’t tell me…”

“I’m sorry, Ava,” he murmured and put his arms around me, pulling me in for a tight embrace. The lump was back in my throat and this time, I couldn’t swallow it. Tears began to stream down my cheeks.

“Will we never see each other again?” I whispered in his ear.

“Maybe not in this lifetime,” he replied, pulling me tighter to him. “I’m glad you’re going home, though, Ava. I’m so glad you get a second chance.” I pulled away slightly, looking up at him.

“I don’t know how to say goodbye,” I said, my lips trembling uncontrollably now. “I-I wished so hard after Tyson died that I’d been able t-to say goodbye to him, but now I don’t know if I could’ve.”

“Don’t say it, then,” Henry smiled. “It’s not goodbye. You can always write. You can always come by and see us…or even if you don’t, you’ll always have your memories. It’ll be just like we’re still around.”

I began to cry very hard when he said this, and that’s when I felt hands on my shoulders. I turned around and there stood Shakespeare, puffy eyes, red face. He didn’t know how to say goodbye, either.

“Shake,” was all I could think to say, and I threw my arms around his neck. His back was shaking up and down, and in a second, we were both sobbing in each other’s arms.

“Oh, would you two stop it!” Henry laughed. Shakespeare and I turned to face him, surprised at his lack of empathy.

“Ava’s not dead, she’s just going home!” he was still laughing. It wasn’t really that funny, but for some reason, Shakespeare and I began to laugh, too.

“Tell Channing I’ve gone home, will you?” I asked Henry, when our laughter and tears had somewhat subsided. “You can get my address from Josephine.”

“I will,” he
promised. “Now you go on. Your
mother’s probably waiting. It’s time for you to spread those wings of yours, Ava Darton. Stay crazy out there in that world full of normal people, won’t you?”

I smiled and gave him another hug.

“Swear I will never go sane again,” I replied. I turned to Shakespeare, but before I could even ex
tend my arms for another hug from
him, he grabbed my face in his hands and pulled my lips to his.

It wasn’t like any kiss with Conner or Tyson, but there was some sort of l
ove there. This was the only way
Shakesp
eare knew how to say goodbye,
so I let him.

As my mother and I pulled away from Craneville, I found myself looking back at it, trying to figure out if any of it had been real. And as we rode
along with
the quiet droning of the radio in the background, the world around me moved in slow motion. I’d missed so much while being locked away. Suddenly, the slow world became fast in front of my
eyes. The trees were taller and
the sun was higher than I’d remembered. The houses were worn, older, weathering away. There were more cracks in the sidewalks, new paint on the neighbor’s fence...there was a
For Sale
sign in the front yard of Jake Robert’s old house across the street from our own house. It was a startling realization that the world had gone on turning without me…and without my Tyson.

I swallowed a lump that had unrepentantly formed in my throat as we pulled into our driveway. Mom stopped the car, turned off the ignition, and looked over at me.

“How ya doing?” she asked. I gave her a small smile.

“I’m alive, right?” was my reply. “Let’s go in.”

That was the night I began to see his ghost.

It wasn’t a scary thing to me. I’d seen Tyson in my dreams too ma
ny times to count, knowing that literally
he wasn’t there. But as I lay in my own bed for the first time that night, I knew it was real this time.

I slept with a lamp on that night, surprisingly uncomfortable in my own bed. I’d gotten so used to the s
queaky mattress from Craneville that it ha
d become somew
hat of my sanctuary place. After what felt like hours of tossing and turning, I somehow
managed to doze off for a while, and for once, no one was in my dreams.

I was awaken
ed
that night at 1:13 a
.m. by an intense bright light that was
not
coming
from my bedside lamp. I sat up in my bed slowly, staring at him, trying to make him fade so that I could go back to sleep.

But there was something fantastical
about him. Something so unearthly
that I could not touch. His name escaped my lips in a whisper, and his only reply was silence. He was in the blue jeans he’d always worn, with the holes in the knees, the dark blue t-shirt that had a white lightning bolt down the front, and his ragged, blue converse shoes. His head was bowed, so that I could only see the top of his shaggy, da
rk hair. He raised his head
, and in that instant, he was gone.

I got up from my bed, rushing to the spot where he’d been, bursting into tears as I fell to my knees and clawed at the carpet. I couldn’t escape him. I never would, and even though I didn’t exactly want to, what I did have left of him was nothing more than a breath. Intangible and never good enough.

For the first time since I’d arrived home, I tried to see Conner’s face in my mind. I couldn’t.

That week was the worst.
Tyson
began showing up everywhere. Not just in my room in the middle of the night, but also on the street, in the car, in random rooms of the house…it was almost too much to bear.

The fifth day I was home, I received a visit from an old friend. I was hesitant in answering the door, but when there was a knock, I saw Tyson standing in the foyer, nodding as if to say I should answer.

Jake Roberts was standing there, looking incredibly uncomfortable and unsure of himself. I gave him a smile of surprise.

“Jake, hi,” was all I could think to say. “Um, come on in.”

He did, giving me a nod of his head and a mumbled hello.

“You look…good,” he said finally. I chuckled and his eyes widened when I did so.

“No I don’t,” I replied. “I look like hell…but it sure does feel great to be able to put on a pair of jeans for the first time in months.”

“Right,” he said, and relief passed through his eyes.

“How’ve you been, Jake?” I asked him. “I must admit, I’m surprised you came here.”

“About that, Ava,” he said then, sighing heavily. “I’m sorry I…deserted you. I haven’t been a good friend. I guess I just freaked out when you were sent off to stay at that place.”

“It never looks good to have a crazy friend, does it?” I said, softly. He just looked at me and flushed slightly.

“I didn’t mean it that way
—
” he started, but I held up my hand.

“It’s okay, Jake,” I said. “Really.”

“Actually, I came by to tell you that I haven’t sold the
El C
amino,” he said, and his face crinkled slightly. “I-I figured you’d want it back when you…when you got out.”

“Thanks for holding onto it,” I said graciously.

“Yeah, um, anytime you want to come by and get it, you can,” he told me.

“Is today good?” I asked him suddenly. He nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “If you, um, wanna ride over to Pete’s with me, we can get it.”

“Okay, let me get my coat,” I said, leaving the room. When I came back, Jake stared at me.

“You s
t
ill have that jacket?” he asked. I looked down at the blue jean jacket I was wearing. Tyson’s old jacket, torn at the elbows, grungy patches on the pockets…it was a mess. But I adored it.

“Of course,” I replied simply. “Are you ready?” He nodded and we left.

On the ride over to Pete’s place, we were silent for the first couple of minutes.

“Where’s
your mom?” Jake asked, finally
.

“Work,” I replied. “She just went back to work today. We’ve kind of just been hanging out at the house for the last few days since I’ve gotten back.” He nodded and the conversation lapsed. But then, Jake said something that made my heart momentarily stop beating.

“I’ve been seeing him everywhere lately.”

I knew who he meant, of course.

“Me, too,” I said quietly. “Ever since I got back.”

“Why do you think that is?” he asked. “It’s never happened before. I think I might be going cra
—
” He stopped abruptly.

“You’re not going crazy,” I said, firmly. “He’s really here…it sounds ludicrous, Jake, but I honestly believe he’s…well,
real
.”

“It’s like his ghost or something,” Jake said, frowning. “It’s not like it freaks me out or anything, but it’s just…strange, you know? Like, I don’t understand why he’s all the sudden showing up everywhere.”

“Does he ever say anything to you?” I asked him.

“No,” Jake answered. “You?”

“No,” I replied. “He’s just…there. It’s like he’s waiting for something, but I don’t know what.”

I
was hesitant to get into the El C
amino. The last time I’d been in that car had been when I tried to kill myself. I wasn’t completely sure that I could handle it. But
I had to put on a strong front
so Jake wouldn’t think I was still nuts.

I got in and drove away, neither Jake nor I saying another word about Tyson’s ghost. It was a strange thing, driving, after not doing so for such a long time. Like riding a bike, I just remembered how…but I still ended up going 35 mph the entire way home.

I suddenly felt a presence in the seat beside me as I drove. I glanced over. Tyson was sitting there, staring out the window. My body stiffened and chill bumps rose up on every inch of my skin.

“
It’s in great shape
,” came his voice, though distant. “
Thanks for taking care of it.”

“I haven’t been around much to drive it,”
I told him. “Sorry, I’ve been…
”

“
I know. I was there, baby
,” was his reply. He didn’t look at me. He was still gazing o
ut the side window so that all
I saw was the back of his head.

“You were?” I asked, surprised, not looking over at him anymore. Instead, I was trying to focus on the road in front of me.

“
Of course I was
,” he said. “
I told you I’d never leave you, didn’t I
?”

“Yes, but under the circumstances, you aren’t really here,” I replied, quietly.

“
You don’t understand yet, Ava
,” was all he said. “
You don’t know
.”

And then he was gone.

“Tyson!” I exclaimed, frantically. “Come back! What don’t I understand? Tyson!” Nothing. It was all
quiet again. Horrible normalcy.

“Damn it!” I cried, hot tears welling up in my eyes.

He didn’t show up again for the next two nights. I would sit up in my bed, begging aloud for him to come back so that I could talk to him…so that I could just
see
him.

After being home for eleven
days, Mom came home from work with some horrible news.

“Your therapist, Julianne,” she said, walking into the living room, while I sat on the couch in my pajam
as.
“Her husband died last night.”