Never (The Ever Series Book 2) (16 page)

While everyone talks about their spring break plans, I stare out the window. Then, at lunch one day, when Ashley leans over asks why I’m not talking to Ever, I tell her that he called me
too needy
. I smile wryly and say that I’m proving him wrong. When she laughs and throws an arm around me, all I want to do is confess my sins.

You could have died! Something possessed Taylor! It’s all my fault!

Alex lingers in the background. Always there, but never saying anything. I get the feeling he’s enjoying himself, which only makes me want to kill him—if that were even possible. What makes it even worse is that
he
is my last resort, the one I’ve asked to suppress my memories of anything supernatural after Ever refused.

On Friday after school, as I’m waiting for the bus, Audra’s silver sports car pulls up right in front of me. I don’t bother hesitating. I just get up and get in the passenger seat. When the engine revs and her car rockets forward, I’m sure for about two seconds that she’s going to kill me. Then I remember that this is probably the way she always drives. We ride along in silence, and she stops at the trail that borders the creek near our house. She gets out, and I open my door, zipping up my jacket against the wind.

“I don’t understand you,” she says mildly. “You’re so worried that you
might
lose something that you’re going to throw away your entire life—all for people who are going to cease to exist anyway.”

Lose
something
? She’s referring to my mom and my friends as
something
? Frowning at her insensitivity, I try to think about things from her perspective, as someone who will outlast virtually everyone on the planet, since she seems incapable of seeing things from a mortal viewpoint.

“Audra, I’m in the same category—mortal. Remember? And these are people I care about.”

“And Ever?” she asks quietly.

“You think I want to do this?”

“No, I can see you don’t,” she says contemplatively. “But I
do
think you have other options.”

“Not that I can see. Ever can’t keep me in a bubble until this all blows over. And when exactly is that going to happen anyway? Never, right?”

She sighs.

“It’s impossible to know, but I hope you understand that whether you like it or not, you are tied to us for the rest of time,” Audra says. “And whatever decisions you make, Ever will do anything in his power to protect you … and bring you back.”

“Then he’ll do what he thinks he has to, and I’ll do what I have to do to protect the people around me.”

It starts sprinkling again, and I turn and watch the drops casting thousands of ripples across the creek. As we walk back toward Audra’s car, the ducks and few Canadian geese that were floating placidly along begin drifting toward shore like they can sense it’s only going to get worse. The drive to my house is short and silent, and when we get there, Audra parks at the curb and looks over at me.

“You realize that I will have to do something to keep everyone from asking about you, right? Or they’ll call, ask about Ever—and your whole plan will fall apart.”

“Go ahead,” I sigh, exhausted. “I’ve already made sure my mom doesn’t even want to talk to me.”

When I open the door to get out of the car, she puts a hand on my arm.

“For what it’s worth, I’ll miss you. You’ve … grown on me.”

Like mold? I wonder silently. I smile, because it’s not much, but that’s probably the nicest thing she’s said to me.

“Tell Ever I love him.” I look down. “Please.”

I can’t bear the thought of seeing him again knowing it might be the last time. I look up, and when Audra nods, I get out. By the time I’ve reached the front door, her car is long gone. As I walk into the empty house, I feel a familiar hollowness, a mixture of desperation and total hopelessness. I remind myself that
I
made this choice and that it was the only one I could have made. If I had waited or hesitated, it could have cost someone’s life this time.

Now, it will only cost mine.

W
hen I get upstairs to my room, there’s a small box wrapped in pale green paper with a note in my mom’s handwriting that says I should have what’s inside. Leaving the gift where it is, I sit down at my desk and take out the stationery my mom got me a few years ago.

Dear Mom,

I hope you find this someday and forgive me for what I did. I never could have asked for a better mom than you, and no matter what happens I want you to be happy.

I love you. I always will. Please remember that.

Wren

Folding up the piece of paper, I lift the corner of my mattress and reach as far back as I can before dropping the note. Then I stand up and walk around my room, picking up random pieces of clothing and shoving them into my rolling suitcase. When I’m done, I go downstairs and eat some cottage cheese, which tastes like mushy nothingness. Going to the sink, I wash my bowl and spoon and then stare out the window. After a few moments, I reach blindly into the drawer and pick up the chef’s knife—the same one I sliced myself with the night Ever first came to our house for dinner. Looking down, I watch my unsmiling features in its reflection.

La Rapière
. The double-edged blade.

Returning the knife, I walk upstairs and stop in front of the mirror. This time I’m making a choice before I have no options left, but I refuse to think that I’m surrendering. I’m not. I’m just giving up anything that would make me weak. And by cutting myself off from everything I love, I will make it safer for those around me.

The only problem is that the same things that make me vulnerable also make me happy.

From the desk, I pick up a picture of my mom and me and slide it out of the frame. My dad took the picture of my mom and me, both of us smiling as we pose in front of the Golden Gate Bridge. This is how I want to remember my mom and me—happy, together. Putting the picture into the pocket of my backpack, I pick up my phone and send her a brief text saying what time my plane leaves and that someone is taking me to the airport in the morning.

I told my teachers that I wouldn’t be returning next week. Mrs. Rose, Mrs. Lawrence, and Mr. Gideon all seemed genuinely regretful. Mr. Bellarmine was indifferent, and Mr. Van Houten made a strange joke about chemical reactions. Mrs. Rice, my AP U.S. History teacher, who I haven’t said more than five words to since I started at Springview, just nodded and asked if I needed my test scores sent to my new school.

My new school
.

I’m relieved not to be going back to Pali, but the thought of starting over
again
makes my stomach twinge. In freshman year, I sat next to a girl whose dad had just retired from the Navy. She told me that she made a new best friend every year when her family moved to a new base. That’s not me. Like I told Taylor, if Ashley hadn’t come up to me on my first day, I might have sat alone all semester, unwilling to approach a bunch of strangers whose thoughts I could hear.

Earlier in the week, I went to the office and asked Mrs. Heinz to send a copy of my transcripts to my new school before sending a text to my dad asking him to call during the day to see if he could register me for classes. The pictures on my new school’s Web site made it clear that there’s a zero percent chance of me fitting in with the rest of the student body. Pictures of perky cheerleaders in blue and white uniforms and bleachers packed with a school-spirited student body made me wince. Even the school’s upcoming spring musical looked wholesome and cheerful, while I feel like I’m about two clicks on the dial away from hissing at anybody that comes near me.

When my phone rings, I don’t pick up. It’s my mom, and I can’t talk to her after what I did. I get up and go to her room where I collect her laundry and take it to the washing machine. It’s a small gesture and not intended to make amends. I want things bad, maybe unfixable after I’m gone. It will be better than way.

After packing up as much of my life as I can fit into two bags, not counting my backpack, I take a shower and get my clothes ready for the morning. Eventually my stomach growls again, I relent and go into the kitchen to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I eat half and then can’t stomach anymore. Once I’ve put my mom’s clothes in the dryer, I climb the stairs and finish getting ready for bed.

My last night in Portland is eerily free of emotion, but I know it won’t last. At some point, the extent of how badly I’ve damaged my life will hit me. For now, I’m ignoring it. Walking to my bedroom window, I look out at the street and my heart stutters in my chest at the sight of Ever. He’s standing beneath the streetlamp, bathed in a yellow pool of light that makes his honey-colored hair glow. He looks the way he did the first time I saw him—only instead of completely detached, his flawless features look sad, resigned.

When I blink, he disappears like he was never there in the first place. And maybe he wasn’t. Maybe it was wishful thinking on my part. Either way, it’s not exactly the goodbye I had been hoping for—not that I had been hoping for a goodbye. I could break down and call him to me one last time. But it would be stupid. Because if I allow myself a moment to feel too much, I’ll lose my nerve. And maybe that weakness wouldn’t cost me now, but I would pay for it. Eventually. With much more than I’m willing to give. And with something I have no right to risk: someone else’s life. My only salvation is that Ever is indestructible. He will go on, whether I live or die, and I take a grain of solace in that.

Getting into bed, I curl up on my side and try not to think about the next day or the next or any of the days that will follow. I toss and turn for hours. Then, sometime during the night, I wake as lips touch mine lightly. I open my eyes, but there’s no one there.

In the morning, my alarm goes off, and the intensity of my regret has increased exponentially. I sit up in bed and want nothing more than to change my mind—to take it all back, regardless of the consequences. Touching my chest, I look down and see that the pale blue infinity symbol has disappeared. The inevitability of my decision crashes over me, and my chest begins to ache. I feel tears leaking from the corner of my eyes.

It takes several minutes, but I finally force myself out of bed and start pulling the sheets off. I leave them in the empty laundry basket in the corner, glad that I set out my outfit the night before. I don’t think I could manage making even the simplest of decisions right now. Choosing what to wear right now would feel too much like picking out clothes for a funeral. I get dressed quickly, and I’m almost to the door when I turn and see a folded piece of white paper on the nightstand. Walking slowly back to the bed, I reach out and pick it up.

Wren,

You are my forever.

E

I stare down at the neat print for several seconds before setting it back on the nightstand. Reaching around to the back of my neck, I unclasp the necklace and set the infinity pendant on top of the paper. I force myself to remain completely numb as I put on my backpack and walk quickly to the door, grabbing my duffel bag in one hand and my rolling suitcase in the other.

Walking quietly down the hallway, I pass my mom’s door and creep down the stairs. She’s only been asleep for a few hours, so I’m not afraid that she’ll wake up, but I skip breakfast anyway, stopping only to get my jacket from the closet and put on my shoes before stepping outside. The wind is whipping the spindly little deciduous tree in front of our house, and the entire world looks gray and lifeless. Right as I’m about to lurch down the front steps under the weight of my luggage, the two bags I’m holding are plucked from my grasp. For once, I’m thrilled to see Alex, mostly so that I can have someone to loathe.

“Your chariot awaits,” he says.

Instead of the shiny red Ferrari, there’s a much more sedate silver sedan parked at the curb.

“Aw. Did your toy get repossessed?”

He smirks.

“Sharp-tongued this morning, are we not?”

Ignoring him, I walk to the car and hoist my backpack into the trunk with the other two bags. Stepping into the car, I look over at Alex.

“Let’s get this over with.”

“A trip to the airport and memory removal.”

I look at him sharply.

“Not
removal
. Suppression. Please say you’re good enough that you’re not going to lobotomize me.”

“Good enough?” he scoffs. “I’m an artist. Trust me.”

“Right.”

I smirk. He looks way too happy about this, but it’s not like his opinion of my plan matters to me. As the car pulls away from the curb, I look back one last time at the house. We turn down a street I’ve never been on, and farmland streams by before we’re suddenly getting on the freeway. I stare blankly out the window, and within just fifteen minutes, we’re passing over the Willamette River. I look back toward the city’s skyline. In many ways, this strange new city, or at least its rainy suburbs, had felt more like home than Southern California, where I had spent nearly seventeen years.

“
Eyes, look your last
!” Alex says with too much dramatic flare.

Tearing my attention from the rear windshield, I give him a withering look.

“Enough, Romeo.”

“During my existence, I dare say I’ve never seen a human look so morose about going from a rainy climate to a sunny one,” he continues.

“You know, just because I asked for your help doesn’t mean I’m interested in what you have to say.”

“Very well, then. Into a prickly silence we shall descend.”

He smirks at me before turning his eyes back to the road, and sooner than I imagined possible, we’re taking another freeway, then another, before I see signs for the airport. I feel one last pang of desperation to turn around and reclaim the life I just gave up. Swallowing, I blink back my tears as I accept the fact that there’s no going back. My choice is made. The car pulls smoothly to the curb, and I look up at the sign for departures. I turn to Alex about to say I’m ready when he smiles in a way that makes him look stunningly beautiful.

“We shall meet again, Wren Sullivan,” he says.

“You are so—”

I’m about to say
wrong
when the deep blue of his eyes suddenly goes black.

***

I wake up from a choppy half-sleep when the plane touches down at John Wayne Airport. Feeling a jolt of fear and regret, I have to remind myself that this was the only decision I could have made. Bleary eyed, I follow the signs toward baggage claim and wait for my bags. Then I stagger to the curb … and wait. Finally, I text my dad—twice—to make sure he hasn’t forgotten. When he finally texts me back, it’s to say that
Jessica
is stuck in traffic and will be there to pick me up any minute. Hungry and edgy after replaying in my head a hundred times the fight I had with my mom, I lug my bags back into the terminal and search for breakfast of some kind.

Against my better judgment, I order a terrible-looking breakfast sandwich. Then, as I’m sitting and waiting for my number to be called, the strangest thing happens. This guy, this shockingly good-looking guy with piercing blue eyes and perfectly unruly copper hair, walks past where I’m sitting and smiles in a way that makes my entire body go tingly. I turn around to see what he was smiling at—because I know it wasn’t me. Then I frown. There’s no one behind me. But by the time I look back, he’s long gone. It feels like I just missed my chance to see a unicorn up close or something.

Just thinking of the insanely hot passerby watching me eat a greasy sandwich curbs my appetite enough so that I only manage to eat half of it before getting up and walking back out to the loading zone. I pull out my iPod, and almost twenty minutes later, I see an expensive cream-colored SUV, the same model my dad said Jessica drives. Standing and waving, I watch as the SUV veers suddenly and cuts off another car to take the space right in front of me. As I walk over, the hatch pops open.

Pausing, I stare into the trunk, which is stuffed with shopping bags from an assortment of high-end stores. There’s also a yoga mat and a trendy gym bag. I do my best to squeeze my stuff around the other items without crushing them before closing the back. When I walk to the passenger side and open the door, I’m treated to an ear-piercing cry that didn’t come from the infant in the backseat.

“Dammit! I smudged a nail!”

My dad’s wife pulls off a pair of giant sunglasses and looks up from the damaged acrylic. I get in, and she squeals again in a way that sets my teeth on edge.

“Wrennie! It’s so good to see you again!”

Her voice is high-pitched and fake-nice. As I buckle my seatbelt, all I can think is:
Wrennie
? God! I could kill my dad! I smile crookedly and lean in for an awkward hug.

“Is this my baby brother?” I ask shyly, reaching into the backseat to grab one of his tiny feet. “Hi, Benjamin.”

He burbles at me.

“Isn’t he just the cutest baby you’ve ever seen in your life?”

I nod and look back at my little brother. He looks a lot like my dad, whom my mom always called devastatingly handsome. I grab his pudgy little foot again, and he squirms and drools. When Jessica presses on the gas, I face forward to make sure she isn’t about to bulldoze any vehicles out of her way. Then I stare out the window as we merge onto the 405. There’s a strong possibility that I spent at least ten percent of my childhood stuck in traffic on this freeway, not something I remember fondly.