"Anyway," I continued, "I ran to help you anda"" I was interrupted by a much louder snort than my own. I ignored it and continued. "So as I got close to you, I mean near you, I fell into your Delve and that's how I landed on . . . This really could be seen as your fault."

I found myself taking a step back at the same exact moment that Trevor took one in my direction.

There was a slight drawl in his voice as he asked, "So you were trying to save me?"

He was drawing closer and if I moved back too much farther I'd be standing in the pond. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing; I could feel the heat flaring up in my cheeks.

"Well, I appreciate your worry."

I couldn't tell if he was being sincere or sarcastic. He was within a foot of me now and I needed to look up to meet his gaze.

"What I wanted to know was, why were you spying on me in the cemetery?"

"Oh." I bit my lip. "I don't know why I was there." I thought about it a moment. "Did you know it was me? I mean, did your past self know it was me in the woods or did you always go around threatening people?" I didn't add that from what I knew of him in the afterlife, it was completely believable.

"Do you always snort?" he asked.

He was outrageous, the master of deflection. I could feel a vein pulsing in my temple.

"Me? Did you not hear the snort that came out of your nose?" I demanded.

The chuckle rumbled from someplace down in his gut. It rolled up and out and bounced around me. He was laughing. For the first time, he wasn't hard and angry. My tongue felt dry from the breeze blowing into my gaping mouth. A piece of me wanted to be angry that he was making fun of me, but that smile was like light reflecting off the snow on a crystal clear day. I was hypnotized by it, blinded.

"I'm not a beast," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"Sure acted like one," I fired off without thinking.

"Ha." He threw back his head. "I think I like you better with a backbone."

"Hey, I've always had a backbone." I glared at him, trying to distract myself from the hummingbirds doing loop-the-loops in my stomach. Where did those little birds come from? I tried to concentrate. "I, on the other hand, was just wondering where you've had that smile stashed."

I sucked in some air for fortification and took a step forward. Shoot, he didn't back up. Now we were almost nose-to-nose. Actually it was nose-to-chest. All the breath I'd taken in came rushing back out and piled up against the place on his T-shirt where he displayed his witty slogans. G.o.d, I hoped it was minty fresh.

"Fair enough," he said. "I came here angry."

Neither of us budged and the hummingbirds were going all ADHD on me now.

Breaking the spell, he rocked back and knelt down to tie his shoe. I took that moment to remind myself to breathe.

"I emerged from the lake right after you arrived. I could see you, the back of you, heading up to the Haven with Mel and I think I just imprinted my anger on you. I had no idea who you were, but I could barely control it. Then . . ." He tugged the lace of his shoe free and started tying all over again.

I finished the thought for him. "Then I Delved and you discovered that manslaughter was a pretty decent reason to hate me." I plopped myself down on the ground next to him.

"I've got two questions for you," I said.

"Just two, huh? I've got more than that for you." He chuckled. How could I respond? It was just outright weird to be having a semi-pleasant conversation with him.

"Fire away," he said, facing me straight on. The pale blue staring back at me was caught between emotions that I couldn't read or understand.

I fingered my necklace, running the charm swiftly back and forth across the chain. "Okay. I understand why you're so angry with me." I stopped. His arm was tossed casually over his knee and he was chewing on a blade of gra.s.s, watching me in a way that made goose b.u.mps run up and down my arms. "But why were the sparks flying between you and Oliver from the start?"

"I don't know. Something ignited when I came face-to-face with him." His knuckles cracked under the pressure of his fingers. "During this last Delve, the me from the past was flooded with thoughts of him. I think some of the emotions were more complicated than just grief." He picked at the worn threads on the knee of his jeans, causing a hole to appear. "I'm not sure what it meant because the Elliot in the past interrupted me."

I ignored his implication of blame. This was the first truce we'd acquired and I didn't want to crush it.

"So did the past-life Trevor know that it was me in the trees?" I asked, repeating my original question.

"I only knew it was you because I know you now. Back then, the other Trevor had no idea who was stalking him."

"I wouldn't call standing quietly in the trees stalking!" I said, my voice getting higher.

"I probably wouldn't have either, but past-life me was thinking that you'd been there every day for a week. I guess you were freaking him out."

I pulled a pen out of my pocket, grateful for the ability to create something to keep my nervous fingers busy. I started tattooing the sole of my shoe.

"I don't know what it all means either," Trevor continued, "but I think that Mel is probably right."

I couldn't help it, another snort snuck out. "Sorry," I said, trying not to do it again.

"As I was saying," Trevor continued, "it might be better if we do this together. I'll try to put my anger aside."

I clicked the top of my pen up and down. "You've been doing a little better while we've been sitting here," I said.

"I can't make any promises."

I could hear the underlying edge in his voice. Mean, angry Trevora"that guy could show up again at any time. I wasn't going to fool myself about that, but there was something about this new Trevor who smiled. He reminded me of the brother he'd been at the Basin. Obviously, we would never be friends, but maybe a truce wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

"Trevor, I have one last question."

"You've used up your allotment for the day, but I'm feeling charitable." He almost grinned as he pushed a thatch of hair out of his face.

"What made you change your mind? Why are you giving me a chance?" I asked. Before I could blink, I was. .h.i.t with a Delve faster and harder than any I'd experienced previously. I was catapulted into the past.

a a a There was a knock on the door, but there was no waiting.

"Elliot?" Mom called as she walked in. There was concern etched in deep lines all over her face.

For years I'd watched my mother's fantastic rituals in front of the mirror, creams and serums applied to keep her skin looking young. A lifetime of faithful care had been erased in moments. My mistake had aged my mother, hardened her. The weight of it was on her face and she seemed as if she could barely hold it.

My breath caught as my dad followed my mom into my bedroom. I'd hardly uttered a word since that single scream of terror had lodged itself in my throat weeks before. I knew that the silence caused my mom and dad to panic, but I couldn't seem to get control over my voice. I was drowning in my own horror.

It was agonizing to watch my dad pretend to be brave. I was well aware that he always adjusted his face before he walked into my room. I wasn't fooled. At night I could hear him down in the den. When he thought the world was asleep, the sounds of his weeping traveled through the lonely house. Heaving gasps would rise out of him as he realized he couldn't fix things for me, his only child.

I wanted to block it out. Instead I listened to his anguish and watched my mom's torment. It was part of my punishment.

It would never be enough.

My mind had wandered, but I suddenly realized my parents were staring at me. I wondered if they noticed my greasy hair and my pale skeletal remains. The sheets and blankets around me were a nest I'd burrowed in. I sniffed. They smelled like fear and I reeked of it too. Mom and Dad wanted their daughter back. I didn't know where to begin to search for her, and I certainly didn't know the girl who was sitting here in her place.

I just wanted them to leave me alone. Couldn't they see that their daughter had died the same day as Oliver Lowry, one of the most popular kids at school? I scanned their faces, realizing that they couldn't let go of their hope, denial, or both.

I questioned my ability to rouse enough energy to get them to leave me alone. There was only one way they'd let me be; I needed to lie. If I fed the illusion they were clinging to, their denial would have something to nourish it.

My unused voice cracked, but the words fell easily from my lips. "I was thinking of taking a walk, maybe going over to Cari's house." It didn't matter that my BFF hadn't stopped by, hadn't called. It didn't matter that Cari's silence was so loud it hurt my ears. She did know what I had done, but she had nothing to say and that spoke volumes.

Like I'd expected, their hope was a spark, so I blew on it gently.

"Sweetie," said my dad, "would you like me to drive you over to her house?"

"Or I could brush out your hair and curl it for you?" my mom asked. Her fingers trembled. It was as if she longed to touch something familiar.

"Ia"I would really like to get out and about by myself. Maybe things will feel more normal," I said, pasting a smile on my face. I hoped my cheeks wouldn't crack from the effort. It hurt, knowing for sure that it was so easy to fool them.

I climbed out of bed and headed for the shower. It's amazing what water doesn't wash away. An hour later I gave a rea.s.suring wave to my parents as I walked down the road toward Cari's house. I glanced back over my shoulder once. Mom and Dad pulsated with hope at the appearance of normality. I turned back, unable to get out of their line of vision fast enough. I felt exposed out here in the open. The world was too big.

Avoiding Cari's house, I headed for the trees, my feet falling into a mind-numbing rhythm as I hiked farther and farther into the woods.

I was ready and willing to be lost, and very much surprised to find myself standing on the tree line of the cemetery.

a a a The guy from the cemetery. Oliver's brother. He saw me watching him in the woods. His index finger made contact with my shoulder. It was a concentrated point of accusation and I tried to flee from it. My heel caught a root and down I went. I was vulnerable. This past week I'd witnessed his agony. I'd watched his pain unfold while I sat hidden in the trees. I knew there was nothing he could do to me that I didn't deserve. Yet despite having lost the will to live, I scooted farther away, trying to find protection from the shrapnel of his fury.

"Who are you? Why are you always here watching me?" he asked, his voice tight. He wedged his fingers under my upper arm, trying to yank me up off the ground. I dug in my heels.

Honestly, I hadn't thought it was possible that he didn't know. How ironic, I thought to myself. This boy hated me already and he didn't even know who I was or what I'd done.

"You're hurting me," I whimpered.

He stopped yanking and let go. I rubbed my upper arm, trying to regain the circulation but not actually feeling any better.

"I'm sorry."

He appeared less menacing when he was apologetic. He had the palest blue eyes that I'd ever seen.

"Like I said," he ran his fingers through a mop of jet-black hair, hair the same color as the marble gravestone he'd been sitting on. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking, it's just that my broa"" He composed his face. "It's just been a hard time lately. You were making me really uncomfortable. I thought you might be one of those reporters ora"never mind. I had no right to take my anger out on you."

I should tell him who I am, I thought. I must tell him who I am. But at the exact moment that my mouth opened, his hand shot out toward me. Without a thought, I cringed and scuttled deeper into the woods, pressed my back against a tree.

"Oh s.h.i.t, I'm really sorry. I'm just trying to help you up off of the ground. Please . . ." His hand moved forward, more slowly this time. He opened his fingers, palm up, advertising its innocence.

Tell him, my conscience screamed. Tell him now!

I reached for his hand. His fingers closed warmly around mine.

"You're freezing! Come out here in the sun where it's warm," he said.

I felt so embarra.s.sed. He was obviously trying to keep the crazy girl from climbing into the underbrush.

I'll tell him in a minute, I thought. He's being so nice and I haven't spoken to a single person besides my parents in weeks, and with them I mostly nod. It felt good to say words aloud again. Everything at home is so unspeakable. I'll tell him in a minutea"when I'm done remembering why I can't possibly tell him.

"Hey, anybody there?" It was Oliver's older brother waving his hand in front of my face. "I forgot to ask, what's your name?"

"Elliot," I said, tensing in case he recognized the name after all. While I'd known Olivera"heck, everyone knew Olivera"I hadn't known his brother. Didn't even know he'd had one.

"My name's Trevor. Listen, I don't blame you for having a bad first impression of me. I'm an idiot. Would it be okay if we just talked for a little bit? It feels good not to be alone." He appeared younger and more vulnerable now that the anger wasn't pouring out of him.

Tell him. You have to tell him the truth.

"All right," came the whisper of air pa.s.sing over my lips. I was hypnotized by the sensation of being innocent again.

"Okay." Trevor gave a shy smile. "Me first. I'll give you something easy, to warm you up. What's your favorite color?"

"Brown."

"Brown? That's a little weird. I've never met anyone who likes brown the best. Care to elaborate?" He chuckled, giving me the once over. "On second thought," he said slowly. "You don't have to explain at all, it's right in front of me. Earth tones suit you with your large brown eyes."

I could feel a wisp of warmth infuse my face.

"My favorite color is green," Trevor rambled on. "I know you thought it would be blue"a"he pointed at his eyea""but you would've been wrong. Now what's your question? I need a little bit of a challenge, though. Distract me."

"Favorite bird?" I asked softly, hardly daring to look up. This couldn't be happening, I thought, I shouldn't be feeling like a person again, even for a minute. Not ever. Not in front of this boy and most certainly not because of this boy.

"Hummingbird," he said with a little lift of his shoulders. "They're the only bird that can fly backward. They seem so cute, but in reality, they're bada.s.ses." He flapped his hands up and down like rapid little wings. The corners of my mouth twitched with the thought of him admiring such a tiny bird.

"Hey, I thought you were going to give me something hard to answer. Throw one at me. Give me something tough." Trevor threw his arms open wide.

Unlike the hummingbird, I couldn't fly backward, undo it all. So I leapt.

"What would you do if you met the girl who killed your brother?"

14.

choices.

I felt groggy and disoriented. The left side of my face was sore where it'd been pressed up against a rock for the duration of the Delve. We were both a lot slower coming out of this Delve than the previous one.

"Stop doing that without giving me any warning." Trevor stood up and stretched out his arms.

"I'm not the only one causing Delves, you know." I kicked a rock and it actually skipped four times before sinking. I couldn't have done that if I'd been trying.

"Yeah, I know, but I can't believe you pulled us back out of that Delve before we found out how your big announcement went over."

"I didn't pull us back, we just came back," I huffed.