Eternal

He tossed away the cotton ball and replaced it with the bandage. “Done. Okay, now what? Do you want to go back to my office for a bit?”

“Sure, why not? Maybe you can talk me through a replay of one of my visions, one that still hasn’t happened yet.”

His gaze met mine, a muscle in his jaw flexing perceptibly. “The one where you saw yourself kill Aidan?”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah, that’s the one. You haven’t seen it yourself yet, have you?” It was weird to think that he sometimes experienced my visions—it made me feel somehow . . . exposed.

And yet it could be helpful. I almost wished he would see this particular one, mostly to save me the heartbreak of describing it to him.

“Haven’t seen it,” he said. “Just let me put this stuff away, and we’ll give it a try.”

Five minutes later, I settled into the chair across from his desk. His office was warm, comfortable. It didn’t take long for Matthew to lull me into a trance-like state as I concentrated on the familiar ticktock of the clock.

An unfamiliar room. Plush carpet beneath my feet, robin’s-egg blue with a dark brown pattern—scripty curlicues and little birds. There was a window, I noticed this time; beyond the panes of glass, I saw green. Green, rolling hills. A willow tree. I tried to look around for more clues, but I was crying too hard, deep gulping sobs that racked my entire body.

“You have to do it, Vi,” a voice pleaded. Aidan. I turned to face him, horrified. “Please, I beg of you,” he continued on. “It has to go into my heart. You can do it; I’ve taught you how. Don’t let me down, not now. You promised.”

“No,” I said, wanting it to stop. “Please, no. Don’t make me, Aidan. I can’t do it.”

“Yes, love. You can. Right here.” He tapped his chest, above his heart. “There’s no time to waste. You must do it now. Now,” he repeated, his tone urgent.

“I can’t,” I cried. “I can’t do it. How can you ask me to?”

“Because I love you, Vi. I love you, with all my heart. It has to be you—don’t you see?”

“No!” I screamed, suddenly back in Matthew’s office. I was shivering violently, my teeth clattering as I tried to catch my breath. “I can’t watch it again. I can’t.”

Instantly, Matthew was on his feet, hurrying around the desk to wrap me in his arms. “It’s okay, Violet. I’ve got you.”

22 ~ Gross Misinterpretation

McKenna, I want you to pair up with Smith for this exercise.” Coach Gibson tipped his head toward the piste. “Demonstrate correct form for the rest of the class, why don’t you.”

Dutifully, I took my place opposite my opponent. I didn’t see much point, really. Fencing was a winter sport; we were done for the year. For us seniors, our high school fencing careers were over. You’d think Coach would let us sit back and take it easy—that he’d focus on the underclassmen instead.

Apparently not.

He gave the signal, and Suzanne and I began the exercise. There were no sounds save that of our shoes squeaking against the mat, of the clanging of our foils as they met.

Once we finished demonstrating, I pulled off my mask and wiped the sweat from the sides of my face as the rest of the class took up their foils.

Suzanne set her own mask on the floor and then laid a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, I’m really sorry about Kate. I would have gone to the funeral, but we were in California. I just . . . well, I wanted you to know. That’s all,” she finished lamely.

“Thanks,” I said, my voice thick. Why did she have to bring this up? Why now?

“God, I feel so bad every time I see Jack Delafield,” she continued on, oblivious to my discomfort. “He’s such a mess. I can’t believe he’s back at school. I mean, I heard they’d just gotten back together and all. And then for something like this to happen?” She shook her head. “Did she really get attacked outside your birthday party? I mean, I don’t want to pry or anything, but that’s the rumor.”

“I—uh—yeah.” I couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. I had to get out of there. Now. “I’ve got to . . . I mean, will you tell Coach that I had to leave early? Meeting with my GC. I forgot.”

Suzanne’s eyes widened. “Oh. Okay. I didn’t upset you or anything, did I?”

I just shook my head, then busied myself collecting my gear. As the rest of class continued the exercise, I made my way over to the cubbies and grabbed my bag.

I heard Coach Gibson call out my name just as the door slammed shut behind me. I hurried down the stairs with no idea where I was going. It didn’t matter, not really. I just needed air.

Afraid that the coach might send someone after me, I picked up my pace, jogging away from the building at a brisk clip, my bag banging against my side.

The chapel, I decided. Of course—no one would bother me there. I quickened my pace as my destination came into view above the treetops. A couple of minutes later, I hurried inside and made my way through the vestibule and down the aisle, toward the rear-most pews.

Panting, I slid into a seat. I’d only just caught my breath when the door banged open behind me. I turned, startled to find Tyler there, making his way toward me. “Hey, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I answered. “Needed some air, that’s all.”

He moved closer, leaning against the edge of the pew now. “Well, something must’ve happened in there to make you run out the way you did. What’s going on, Violet?”

“It’s just . . . something that Suzanne said.” I took a deep, calming breath. “I think she was just trying to be nice. You know, about Kate.”

“Ah, I see.” He slid onto the pew, scooting in beside me. “The old ‘I’ll pretend to be comforting when I’m really just digging for details’ kinda thing?”

“Yeah. Pretty much. I just—I don’t want to talk about it. Not to anyone who wasn’t her friend, who wasn’t there that night. I know that’s probably weird.”

He reached for my hand. “Nah, not weird at all.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing back tears. “I can’t help but think about that night—replay it over and over in my head. I barely even talked to her. She was busy with Jack, and I . . .” I trailed off, shaking my head. “I’m trying to remember the last thing I said to her. It was something like ‘wait here—don’t go outside.’ If I had known those would be the last words I’d say to her—”

“Don’t,” Tyler said, squeezing my hand. “Just don’t, okay? You’re going to drive yourself nuts. There was no way you could have known. No way you could have prevented it.”

“I should have known. If I hadn’t been so distracted—”

“It was your fucking birthday, Violet. Look, I know you feel responsible. I get that. Trust me. I’ve played a few rounds of ‘what if’ in my head too. What if I’d fought a little harder for her; what if she’d been with me that night instead of Jack.” He brushed his thumb over my knuckles, his head bowed over our joined hands. “I realize I didn’t know her as long as you did—as long as the rest of you did. But I liked Kate, Violet. Really liked her.” He lifted his gaze to meet mine, and I was shocked to see that his clear green eyes were glistening with tears.

“I know you did,” I said, even though I hadn’t realized how much until that very moment. “I’m sorry. I was being selfish. I didn’t even think about you—about what you might be going through.”

“She was fun. Uncomplicated.” A single tear rolled down his cheek. “I miss her.”

I did the only thing I could think to do then—I gathered him in my arms, allowing him to press his face against my breastbone as I stroked his hair. “I miss her too,” I said. Soon his tears had dampened the front of my shirt, but I didn’t care. He needed this. We needed it. I was clinging to him desperately, holding on to the one person whose guilt might just match my own, who understood that tangled mess of emotions swirling inside me whenever I thought of Kate.