He's already in a button-down shirt with a fancy pattern on one side and nicely pressed jeans. I can smell his cologne or hair product or his girly-man soap.

"Do you like coffee?" he asks.

"Sure," I lie, my voice and body and mind all hovering over this surreal moment.

I see a box of half a dozen donuts. Not Dunkin' Donuts, because this place is too weird to have one of those. These should be called Devil Donuts. Each one comes with its own hallucination.

"We began a new series of sermons at the start of the year. I thought you might be interested. Chris, you've been to our church a few times."

I think of the last time I was there, of the storage room, of the weird vibe I got stepping foot in the building.

"Yeah."

"Not trying to bribe you with donuts." He smiles his creepy smile. "But I believe that a church is about more than just a building or a pastor. It's about community. It's about the people."

"It's very nice of you to come by," Mom says. "I feel embarrassed that I was-"

"Please," Pastor Marsh says. "This is my big day, but it's your day of rest. I don't mean to disturb it at all."

I see him watching me so I take a donut, even though I'm not very hungry. I smile as my mouth is full.

"How are you doing, Chris?"

He hasn't done anything to me. Besides given me creepy, weird vibes.

So why do I feel like I want to run away every time he's near?

"Doing good."

What if I'm wrong? What if everything everybody's told me about this guy is a lie?

"Staying busy?"

I nod.

"Chris got a job at the Crag's Inn."

The eyes move to me, and they change. I swear they change. They do something weird. Not like change colors and suddenly widen in horror, but they seem to lock on me like a bird zeroing in on its prey.

Maybe it's just my imagination.

"And how are you enjoying it?" Pastor Marsh says without any change of tone.

"Good."

"Is the old lady still working there?"

"Iris?" Mom asks. "Yes, she's still there."

He doesn't stop looking at me. "Good to hear you're keeping busy."

Why does everybody want me to stay busy? As if what? As if I'm going to get bored and then suddenly build an atom bomb?

"My new sermon is on community. It's about building bridges and building relationships. No pressure, but of course I'd love to see you there. Both of you."

"Thanks," Mom says.

She's too tired and embarrassed to have her defenses completely up. If she did, she might tell the pastor what he could do with his community. Or where he could go with it.

"There are some great teenagers at our church, Chris. I think you'd enjoy getting to know them. In lots of different ways."

He smiles, and I feel like something's slithering down my back. I smile back, and it's gotta be the worst fake smile ever.

"Enjoy your day. And your donuts."

Mom thanks him as he walks to the door. Before he steps out, he turns.

"Oh, and Chris, next time just ask if you'd like a tour. I'll give you one anytime."

Then he's gone, leaving me speechless and Mom cursing.

"Why did he show up here? It's barely eight o'clock. I must look like a train wreck."

You probably smell like a vineyard.

"Did you invite him over?" she asks.

"Are you serious?"

"Well, why would he just show up?"

"Maybe Dad put in a call to him."

"Stop it. What did he mean about giving you a tour?"

I shrug and take a second donut.

"How are they?"

I nod. "If I die from poisoning, you'll know who did it."

Neither of us laughs.

As The Smiths say, that joke isn't funny anymore.

46. In Rainbows.

Sometimes the moments crawl by like a centipede. And sometimes they slip away like a plume of smoke. January turns to February, and I barely seem to notice. I stay busy, with the hour of detention every day after school ending at the start of February. Coach Brinks seems to think that I should be forced to run harder since I've been missing some of practice. Between studying and track and work on Saturdays at the Crag's Inn, I'm exhausted all the time.

I'm staying under the radar. No new notes visit my locker. Newt doesn't have any discoveries for me. He seems to have given up on the zip drive.

Time moves so quickly that I'm surprised to discover it's Valentine's Day. How could I totally forget a holiday like this one, even if some candy company and card company created it?

How can I be such a loser to have nobody to even give a card to, much less to give me one?

Everything's been going fine, but this is like the car hitting a deep pothole in the middle of the dirt road. The alignment seems to go out of whack, and I realize that I've been coasting and forgetting.

But not today.

Not on Valentine's Day.

During art I completely ignore Kelsey. We've continued our nice little banter every period, but suddenly I feel a cloud over my head and my soul. I feel empty and I feel afraid. I feel all these things and I can't begin to tell her. Nor can I play her little games today. I'm not interested, so why bother?

So I shut her down the first few times she tries to talk. Then we just work in silence.

There's a part of me that would normally make amends, but not today.

I'm feeling off base, like screaming is going on inside my head and I need to get out of here.

I glance at Kelsey's eyes behind her glasses, but she deliberately doesn't look my way. Her normally cheery face has a shadow over it.

Happy now, Chris? Happy now that you've infected even those who seem uninfectable?

When the bell rings, she gets her things together, then she turns to me like a robot and hands me a card. "I got it, so I figure I might as well give it to you. But I know you'll think it's stupid. Whatever."

She forces a card into my hand and then dashes away. It's not that dramatic, but still.

Valentine's Day. Of course she'd get me a card. Could it be any more obvious?

I feel like a tool.

I'm left alone in the classroom and open the card. It shows a girl standing on a palette of colors, like a messy rainbow or something. Her hair is flying out like she's being struck by lightning, and she has an expression on her face like she's laughing in a delirious way.

I open the card.

Every color is just a bit brighter when you're around.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Kelsey This is pretty much a perfect card.

The colors are just like the kind we paint every day.

I can't believe she got this for me. Then I think of what she said and how she walked off. I slip the card into my notebook.

I haven't had someone notice me like this since- Since the world brightened to a point where it couldn't brighten anymore.

Since the world had a blackout.

I know I should go find Kelsey and apologize for being rude.

But I can't. I can't and I won't.

There are things I need to do. Things I need to do today.

And there are many other people that Kelsey can and should be around. Not me.

It can't and it won't be me.

47. Gravestone.

I've been wanting to do this for some time. Wanting and needing. I just haven't known how or where or when.

This isn't something for a movie or a television series. Maybe that's where I'm getting the idea, but that's not why I'm doing it. I'm doing it because-because I have to.

Because she deserves it.

Because despite how much I want to forget and move on, despite the insanity of it all that gets a little less insane as time goes on, I need to do this. For Jocelyn.

Mom let me borrow the car because I told her I'm just going down the road to a friend's house. She's letting me drive a little more with each passing week, for practice. Sometimes she's with me and sometimes not. She knows how remote these roads are and that nobody's around to give me a ticket.

She doesn't know exactly how far I'm driving, but she doesn't need to know.

It takes me longer than I expected to find it. The place Jocelyn took me, where she showed me the church and the cemetery that used to be.

The tall grass and weeds aren't as high as I remember, and the church seems more desolate than I remember. The ground is hard and it takes me a while to find them, but I eventually see the pair of gravestones.

I place a rock between them.

I'm not exactly sure what else to do.

Is she watching me from above or around like in The Sixth Sense?

It's a nice thought, thinking she might be seeing me, but that's not why I'm doing this. I'm doing it out of respect. And love. And need.

The rock is one I found down by the creek, thin and about the length of a football. I carved some crude markings on it with a small pickaxe I bought in town. They're undecipherable except by me.