Solstice

She scoffs. “Please.” But her face is flushed; even I can see it.

“You’re still just as beautiful as you were so long ago, darling Lucia.” My father reaches out and cups her chin with his fingers. Something inside me stirs as I remember Shayne doing the same thing to me. And then my father leans over and kisses my mom full on the lips. Her body freezes, but her lips relent, and she kisses him back with everything she has. It’s a part of my mom I never would have believed existed. But here it is, right in the middle of Pok-e-Jo’s Barbeque. And more than ever, at this moment in time, I want to travel back to Hell. To be with Shayne forever. To live a life of love and happiness I’ve never known before. And I wonder if my mom doesn’t crave something similar.

Chapter 30 Tears

Teaching is pointless on Friday. The teachers give it a try, but all anyone wants to talk about is the hurricane and Councilman Rendon dying. I look for Chloe at lunch, and when she doesn’t show, I text her.

“will u b in stdy hall?” I send.

Her response is short. Too short. “have plans”

“what plans?”

“crazy. ttyl”

I’m not sure what she’s referring to when she says crazy: her plans, the world, or herself. I send her a quick response and head to class.

When I walk into Social Sciences, my heart flips over in place a few times. Shayne’s sitting there, waiting for me. He moves his arm off the chair next to him so I can sit down.

“Don’t the teachers wonder why you’re here so little?” In the last couple weeks, he’s been in class all of three days. I’d wonder where he was if I didn’t already know. But even still, being in Hell doesn’t explain why he can’t make it to class. Especially if he really does want to see me.

Shayne looks at Mr. Kaiser. He’s just uncapping his dry erase marker—purple this time—and the smell drifts through the air.

“Being a god does have its powers, Piper. The teachers hardly notice me. Remember, they think I’ve been here all year?”

I smile, and in a moment of utter insanity, I lean over and kiss him lightly on the mouth. He tastes like a rustic campfire mixed with something so intense it pulls at every part of my insides.

“I like that,” he says when I pull my head back.

“I like that you like that,” I say. And this time he leans forward and kisses me.

Mr. Kaiser clears his throat and starts class. It’s not like Randy and Hannah weren’t always making out before class. But now, with Randy gone, that won’t happen again.

“So what are your powers?” I whisper.

Shayne laughs and keeps his head close to me. “Like being near you for starters.”

I fix him with a look that tells him he’s full of crap. “I hardly call that a power,” I say.

A smile plays on his lips. “What would you call a power?”

“Hmmm…” I put my finger to my mouth pretending I’m in deep thought. “Maybe breaking down brick walls. Or climbing up the sides of buildings.”

“I’m a god, not a superhero,” Shayne says.

I hear Mr. Kaiser clear his throat again. With Randy Conner dead, the class has been drained of all comedic relief, and Shayne’s laugh stands out like a wart.

“Would you like to share what’s so funny, Piper?” Mr. Kaiser says.

I look around and realize the whole class is staring at me. Now why hadn’t he asked Shayne to explain the joke? I shrug. “We were valuing the powers of superheroes.” I glance sideways at Shayne and see he’s twirling his stylus on his hand.

Mr. Kaiser raises an eyebrow and then turns and writes the word SUPERHERO in large purple letters on the board behind him. He caps the marker and turns back around. “So what power would you want if you were a superhero?” He’s not asking me, but the whole class in general.

“How about flying?” someone suggests.

Mr. Kaiser turns and writes flying on the board. “What else?”

“Invisibility—cause then I could sneak into the girls’ locker room,” someone else says.

It’s a stereotypical male answer, and it garnishes a stereotypical female reaction of eye rolling, name calling, and laughter. But Mr. Kaiser writes invisibility on the board nonetheless.

Most of the answers are funny, even expected, such as my climbing buildings or breaking down walls. There’s an enormous sense of release descending on our Social Sciences class, and I look over at Shayne and grin. He reaches out across the aisle, takes my hand, and squeezes it.

The white board is just about full when Mr. Kaiser says, “How about one more thing?”

“I’d like to bring people back from the dead.”

It’s Hannah, Randy’s girlfriend. I still remember her face at the funeral—frozen into a state of repressed sorrow.

Silence falls on the class faster than a flash flood in a dry creek bed. I have no idea what to say, and I’m pretty sure no one else does either. Shayne’s still holding my hand, but lets it go and turns around to face her.

“Why?”

It’s a simple question but an unexpected one all the same. I can’t believe he’s asked it.

“Why what?” Hannah’s staring at him, and I know their eyes are locked.

“Why would you want to bring someone back?”

Hannah lets out a gasp of exasperation, and, for a second, I think she’s going to get up and come punch Shayne. The silence in the class is so solid, I can hear the mercury in the thermometer rising.

Hannah breaks the silence. “I think that’s pretty obvious.”

But Shayne keeps at it. “What if Randy is at peace? Why would you want to bring him back?”

Hannah jumps to her feet. “How could he be at peace? He’s left his family here with that monster of a father. He’s left me here.” She glares at Shayne, and I think she’s trying to evaporate him with her eyes. “Did you know I’m pregnant?”

When she says it, I realize my heart is pounding in my chest, and I’ve forgotten to breathe. I don’t want to move. Don’t want to draw any attention to myself.

“Yes.” Shayne’s so calm it’s like a violent contradiction to the rage and sadness pouring off her.

I’m staring at Hannah, watching her face. It’s red, but her eyes are dry—just like at the funeral. And she’s carrying Randy Conner’s baby.

“Yes what?” she demands.

“Yes, I knew.” And whether Hannah, Mr. Kaiser, or anyone else in the class believes Shayne, I do. “But why would you want to bring him back?”

I can’t believe he’s pressing her. I almost open my mouth at this point and tell him to stop, but my mouth feels pinned shut.

Hannah doesn’t speak. Her mouth’s opening, but nothing’s coming out.

“What if you knew he was happy? Why would you bring him back here?”

Hannah stands there looking at Shayne. Her eyes grow lighter, and soon tears pour down her face. They flow like the River Acheron, full of sorrow, and I know this is the first time she’s cried since Randy died. Her hands move to her stomach as she cries, and I think about the baby. It’ll grow up without a father. Just like me. But its father will be dead, unlike mine. And its father will not abuse it like Randy’s.

“Because I miss him.” Hannah manages to get the words out between her tears, and within moments, someone gets up and helps her out of the room.

I’m staring at the place where she was, watching the door swing closed. And when I look at Shayne, he’s