"I don't know." I was pretty sure my father would not approve.

"You don't have to be twenty-one." He must have noticed my skeptical look because he quickly added, "Only for tonight, though, since the band is mostly underage. We have special pa.s.ses." His voice had turned persuasive.

I fidgeted for a moment, trying to figure out why I was hesitating. It was spring break, so it's not like it was a school night or anything.

"Besides, we need help selling our T-shirts." He picked out one of the smallest ones that had been drying on the counter and held it up to me, playfully a.s.sessing the look. "Nik. All you need to do is wear this tonight, and we'll sell out."

I glanced down at the shirt and then back up at Cole. "Yeah, I'm sure this is the look you were going for."

"You can make anything look good," he said softly.

When I got home, I called Jules and convinced her to go to the concert with me. I still wasn't sure they'd let us in, until our bus pulled up to the Dead Goat Saloon and we saw a bunch of students from Park City High. Anyone sixteen and older could enter with a special pa.s.s. The Dead Elvises packed the house, and the air was heavy with the smell of alcohol and sweat.

Jules and I stayed as close to the stage as possible, and as the concert wore on, I wondered if my hearing would be permanently damaged. But the music soon made me forget any pain. As I danced, I closed my eyes and tried to remember why I had been so sad that morning.

Jules tapped me on my shoulder and leaned in to yell something, but I couldn't hear her above the throbbing ba.s.s. Finally she gave up and pointed toward the back of the place and mouthed the word bathroom. I nodded and turned my attention back to the stage.

I never understood how guitar players could jump up and down while making sure their fingers struck the right frets and picked at the right strings. Cole made it look easy and natural, as if he were surrounded by a cushion of the music he was making; his movements were so graceful. He was at once severe and beautiful, and the more he played, the more I felt surrounded by that cushion as well, as if I could fall and never hit the ground, as long as he was playing.

I closed my eyes and let the music take over, and when I opened them, Cole was watching me. As our eyes met, he didn't look away, and he didn't try to hide where his attention was. For some reason I was determined not to look away first, and before I knew it I'd gravitated to the stage. People turned to look at me, as if the momentary bond between us was visible, and I couldn't take the attention. I finally turned away.

By midnight, I could barely stand upright. I hadn't had anything to drink, but everything around me still seemed to sway. The band played two encores, and then the music switched over to MP3s.

Jules hadn't made her way back to me, and I was about to search out the ladies' room when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around.

Cole's face was pure energy, and he threw his arms around me and lifted me off the ground.

"Whoa, okay, you can put me down now," I said in between gasps for air. "My head was already spinning."

He smiled widely. "Sorry. I always feel like this after a set."

"Like what? Like you have the sudden urge to pick up teenage girls and throw them around?"

He laughed and put me on the ground again. It was obvious Cole was pa.s.sionate about music, because he couldn't contain his euphoria. It was contagious.

Behind Cole, the rest of the band was packing their gear. Maxwell fastened the clasps of his guitar case, then jumped off the stage and landed right next to where Cole and I stood.

"Cole, we heading out?" Maxwell said.

"In a minute," Cole said, and he waved his hand dismissively. Maxwell looked from Cole's face to mine, and walked away with a strange smile on his lips. Cole didn't seem to notice. He looked past me. "Where's Jules? Wasn't she with you?"

Oh yeah. Jules. I was so caught up with Cole, I'd almost forgotten about her. "I thought she went to the restroom, but she hasn't come back. I should probably go look for her."

I started to walk away, but he grabbed my wrist. "Did you check your phone? Maybe she texted you."

"Oh, right." I pulled my phone out of my pocket, and sure enough, it showed a new text. "I didn't even feel it."

"What does it say?" Cole asked.

I squinted as I read the screen again. "She said she wasn't feeling well, so she got a ride home with Spence Eckhart."

Cole smiled at me. "Does that mean you're stranded?"

"No more so than before. We took the bus here."

"Well, I have a car. Let me drive you home." He threw one arm around my shoulders and leaned in to whisper in my ear. "I'm glad you came." His breath washed over my neck and my face, and I only had a moment to register the smell of cigarette smoke before my mind inexplicably flashed to Jack. How would I feel if he had his arm around Lacey like Cole had his arm around me? I wondered what he was doing right at this moment, if he was asleep, or if they were out partying somewhere.

Cole put his hand on my back, leading me toward the exit and the parking lot. I ran a few fingers through my frizzy hair, damp with sweat. Lacey's hair was always perfect.

Why was I thinking about Lacey? I trusted Jack.

TWELVE.

NOW.

Lunch. Three and a half months left.

Jack didn't come to Mrs. Stone's room for an entire week. He didn't try to speak to me during cla.s.s. By lunchtime on the fourth day, I found myself going a little crazy. I knew it was better for him this way, but I longed to hear his gruff voice and see his brown eyes dart toward mine.

With my lunch sack in hand, I made my way to the school library. The windows on the north side overlooked the courtyard, where most of the students ate their lunches on sunny days.

If Jack was there, I would see him.

I found a seat near the windows and scanned the courtyard. The large table at one end, near the doors, still held all the big names in the school. The hierarchical seating chart, based on social standing, hadn't changed. But Jack wasn't with them. I kept looking, and finally found him sitting at a small table on the other end of the yard, across from a girl with long blond hair. She turned briefly and I could see her face, confirming what I already knew.

Jules.

Jack and Jules had been friends before I left, but it was mostly through me. I wondered if they ate together every day now. n.o.body seemed to notice them.

They inclined their heads toward each other, both of them pushing the contents of their lunches around on their trays, but neither of them eating.

Jack's lips were moving, and Jules mostly just nodded. At one point, she reached out and put her hand on Jack's forearm. She was so tender with him. I realized my hand was covering my mouth as I watched them. I had no right to be jealous, but I found myself squeezing my apple. I stared hard at the stem, and twisted it off before I dared to look up again.

Jack smiled and leaned back in his chair. At this movement, Jules pushed his sandwich toward him. Jack rolled his eyes and picked up the sandwich, took a purposeful bite, then set it down.

They both laughed.

I left the library and almost sprinted back to my nook. Were they together now? They spent a lot of time with each other, but they'd done that before I left too.

I didn't want to think it was possible, but then again, why shouldn't they be happy?

I had to get my mind off Jack. It wasn't doing anything to make my Return easier. In fact, it had distracted me from figuring out what Cole was hiding.

I needed to go back to the Shop-n-Go. Continue my search for clues that probably weren't there. At least it would get me away from here and give me something else to think about.

Outside the Shop-n-Go.

I looked up and down the street to make sure no one saw me. In the daylight, the place looked so ordinary it was even harder to believe it had anything to do with the Everneath.

Through the window I could see the same bored guy- Ezra-at the counter. I felt in my pocket for change, so I could buy something and not look so crazy. He probably wouldn't even remember me.

I pushed the door open, making the bell chime, and walked past him. This time I couldn't smell any alcohol.

"Didn't expect to see you here again, detective," Ezra said loudly. I looked around. There weren't any other customers- he had to be talking to me.

As if to prove it, he said, "Still looking for the man with the bottle?"

I walked toward the counter. "Nope. Just shopping."

He gave me a skeptical look and went back to working on what looked like a crossword puzzle, as if he were too bored to argue.

I ignored him and wandered slowly down the aisle toward the back of the store to look at the tile again. My cheek had smacked against that floor the day the Everneath released me. Ezra was busy with his paper, and I made sure he wasn't looking before I stomped a few times on the floor. As solid as ever.

I rubbed my forehead with the palm of my hand. What wasn't I seeing? I turned away and kicked my shadow on the floor. How could something so ordinary hold the answers to anything at all, let alone anything that would help me? I crouched down and put my hand to the tile. Cold. I looked at my hand. The only thing it proved was that the floor needed a good cleaning. I was missing something. Or maybe I was trying to find clues where there were none to be found.

My investigation of the floor was so intense that I didn't hear the store door open, and I didn't notice that someone was standing behind me.

"What did you lose?" a familiar voice said.

I shot up so fast that I whacked the back of my head on Jack's chin.

"Ow." I rubbed my head as I turned around.

Jack had a hand up to his chin. I'd hit him just right. His lower lip was starting to bleed a little. "You're telling me. Sorry, Becks. Didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay. Sorry about your..." I motioned to his face. A drop of blood trickled down his lip, and I reached into my bag and pulled out the closest thing I had to a tissue-a knit tea cozy I'd been working on.

"Here," I said. I brought the tea cozy to his lip and put his hand there to hold it in place. He held it there for a second and then pulled it away to look at it. Without a teapot under it, the cozy looked a little misshapen.

"What is this?" he asked, his lip twitching.

"A tea cozy."

"Of course."

We stood there in an awkward silence for a moment. I wondered if he was still mad at me. I couldn't tell from his expression, and I couldn't discern the taste of the energy in the air. I only knew there was a lot of it. I didn't know if I'd ever get better at it.

Jack gripped the tea cozy so tight, his knuckles turned white.

When I couldn't take the silence anymore, I said, "What are you doing here?" It sounded like an accusation.

Jack raised an eyebrow and let up on his death grip of the tea cozy. "I heard this place has great tile." He jerked his head toward the floor.

I gave a nervous laugh.

"Truth is, I saw your car out front," he said. My heart did a little happy dance. Maybe he wasn't so mad anymore. "So, what's so special about the floor?"

"It's not the floor. I was just ... reaching for..." I crouched down again and grabbed the nearest thing off the bottom shelf. "These."

He looked at the package in my hand and raised his eyebrows. "Chocolate-covered raisins?"

I nodded.

"You don't like raisins."

He remembered. "They're, um, not so bad now."

He gave a little nod and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I guess everything changes."

I wanted to yell out, Nothing changes! I still hate raisins! But then I heard a loud motorcycle pull into the parking lot. I glanced out the window.

It was Gavin, the Dead Elvises' drummer.

What if he saw me here? I had to a.s.sume if Maxwell knew about me, then Gavin would too, and I didn't want him to report back to Cole that I was snooping around. And I doubly didn't want to involve Jack.

"I have to go," I said. I had to get out of there before Gavin came in.

"Wait, Becks," Jack said. He tried to grab my hand, but I yanked it away and pulled my hoodie over my head, all Unabomber, and started toward the door. Jack stood there watching me with a confused look on his face. "Don't leave."

"I'm sorry," I said, backing toward the door. "I am."

"What about your raisins?" Jack said.

I could see Gavin flip the bike's kickstand with his foot. "I don't want them anymore," I said. "You're right. They're gross."

I was almost to the door now.

"Don't you want this?" Jack held up the tea cozy. It was as if he were trying to make my escape even more difficult. Gavin was crossing the parking lot.

"No. Keep it."

Right as I shoved the door open, I heard Jack mumble, "I guess nothing says 'I'm sorry' like a tea cozy." Frustrated, he kicked the counter that held the rotating hot dog machine.

Then I made it out, and the door slammed shut behind me.

I ducked my head and pa.s.sed Gavin just as he reached the door. He didn't seem to notice me, and I was pretty sure he hadn't heard Jack.

I avoided my car and walked up the street a little ways, sat down on the curb, and let out a breath of relief.

I hadn't learned anything new, except that another one of the Dead Elvises had an affinity for the Shop-n-Go. And Jack officially thought I'd lost my last marble.