Eternity

backstage. But there was always tomorrow . . . and he needed to bring this light downstairs anyway. He began to make his way carefully back along the ledge, hesitant to admit the truth even to himself: He was drawn to see Ty again. Not because he had a crush on her. It was more like some sort of magnetic curiosity. As if he were playing a video game and needed to see what the next level would hold.

And he wanted to find out how she knew that stuff about Chase. Had she been lying to JD when she’d acted all oblivious about it? He had no idea why she would lie, but he also felt instinctively curious about her, like she held secrets he needed to know more about.

Onstage, Ned was telling the actors to take five. It was the perfect chance to tell Ned he’d be back tomorrow, ready to talk light plot and sound design. JD had almost reached the stairway when he heard Skylar’s voice again. She was in the wings now, backstage, and her tone was hushed and urgent. JD froze—he was probably not supposed to overhear what she was saying. But given the urgent tone of her voice, he couldn’t help but listen.

“No,” she said shrilly. “That’s impossible. They can’t just . . . let her go. Let them all loose. Isn’t that, like, against the law?”

JD held his breath, wondering who she was talking to. Through the grate by his feet, he could see her blond hair, her frantic pacing.

“No. Please,” Skylar said. “Isn’t there another place we can send her? She cannot come stay with us. I can’t . . . You don’t understand. . . . ”

Creeeeaaaak. The floorboard below JD gave a groan, and he winced. Skylar whipped her head from side to side, then looked straight up. Right through the grate. Busted.

She snapped the phone away from her ear as though it were on fire. He quickly made his way to the stairs and intercepted her just as she was about to run back onstage.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just didn’t want to interrupt.”

She looked at him like an animal in a cage, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Said nothing. Just stood there, quivering.

“Are you okay?” he asked warily. He knew he was butting in to the private affairs of a girl he barely knew, but she just looked so . . . scared.

“Just mind your own business,” Skylar snapped, brushing by him and throwing her shoulders back as she did.

Fair enough. JD shook his head, grabbed his backpack from the light booth, and headed out to meet Ty. He pushed through the double doors and squinted as the afternoon sun flooded his eyes, which had gotten used to the dim theater lighting. Through half-lowered lids, he saw the silhouette of a girl leaning against the hood of a car—tall, graceful, her hair haloed with light. He was close enough to touch her by the time he could make out Ty’s features.

“I’ve been waiting forever,” she groaned playfully, hopping around to the driver’s-side door. “I’m glad you decided to meet up. Come on, let’s go. I have a surprise for you.”

The car smelled heavy and sweet, like a perfume he couldn’t identify. ?“Where are we going?” he asked as they passed Ascension’s forests, fields, and buildings in Ty’s maroon Lincoln. The sun was getting lower in the sky; soon the horizon would be a muddy wash of pink and orange and purple. Ty looked like she was dressed for a nightclub, in tight black jeans, a flowing red top, and earrings that dangled as far as her collarbone. He wondered if he’d made a mistake.

“I told you, it’s a surprise,” Ty said in her singsong voice. “But I hope you’re hungry. I packed us a picnic.”

Now that she mentioned it, JD realized he hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. “I could go for something to eat,” he said. But he worried: Was this a date? He wasn’t an idiot—he knew most guys would kill to be him right now. Ty was ridiculously gorgeous and, from what he could tell, perfectly nice—but there was something . . . off about her. He had a gut feeling there was more to Ty than met the eye, and it wasn’t necessarily beautiful.

And then there was Emily Winters. There was always Emily Winters, and would always be.

Ty turned down the industrial road on the edge of town, near the old train yard. He’d passed this place a million times on his way to the highway, but he’d never had any reason to explore further. “What’s down here?” he asked.

“A blast from the past,” Ty said as they rounded the corner and a decrepit brick warehouse came into view. Broken-down train cars lined tracks that were overgrown with husks of dead grass. The entire landscape was brown—rusty metal, muddy ground, dirty bricks. “Ta-da! Isn’t it beautiful? Sometimes I feel like I can still hear the whistle of the trains in the distance.”

JD knew enough local history to know that the freight line hadn’t come through this part of town in decades. He sat for a moment, squinting his eyes, looking at the abandoned building, its broken windows, and graffiti. “It’s, ah, very retro. . . . ” he said. It wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting, but then again, he couldn’t have imagined Ty pulling him out of theater early or packing him a picnic. He cleared his throat. “Looks like a spot that serial killers would take their victims, actually,” he said. “Should I be worried you’re trying to kill me?”

Ty laughed. “I thought it would be the perfect place,” she said as they got out of the car. What she thought it would be perfect for, he wasn’t sure. “It’s different, you know?”

She took his hand in one of hers—naturally, easily, as though they’d been holding hands forever. JD began to sweat. This was definitely a date. Which meant at one point, she might expect him to kiss her. Which meant he should start being nervous approximately now.

She led him toward a low broken window on the side wall of the warehouse. Faded stalks of grass, old cigarette butts, and shards of broken glass formed the carpet below their feet.

“Careful,” JD said, noticing Ty’s strappy sandals. “You’re not exactly dressed for urban adventuring.” He reached over to grab the picnic basket—an ornate wicker thing with a bright red ribbon wrapped around the handle.

“And you are?” She smiled huge, revealing paper-white teeth.

“These pants were probably made when this warehouse was still functional,” JD said in defense of his gray corduroys. “And suspenders are very practical.”

“Whatever you say.” She giggled as she put one leg through the window and then the other, snaking her body carefully to avoid snagging her clothing on any jagged edge. He followed her lead much less gracefully, managing to snap off a piece of the window ledge with his workboot as he jammed his foot through.

Once inside, she motioned for him to follow her down a hallway. Their footsteps echoed in the dark. The place was vast, cavernous, full of large, empty rooms, presumably places where old machines used to sit. It smelled like damp and bird shit and mice. Dusty shafts of sun filtered weakly through the broken windows and pitted roof, but did little to penetrate the dark. JD fought to ignore a buzzing anxiety, a fear that spiders might drop on him from above or rats would suddenly swarm them from the darkness.

It was, without a doubt, the worst picnic place he could imagine.

He cleared his throat. “So, how’d you find this place?”

“I like old things,” Ty said. “Always have. My cousins and I like to explore. See who can dig up the best stuff. Ascension is crazy old. There’s a lot of cool places around here. Stories like you wouldn’t believe . . . haunted places. Places where they staked witches, or burned them alive. Well, women who they thought were witches, anyway.” For a second, her voice rang out, steely, harsh. Then she turned to him, and her teeth flashed in the half-dark. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“Well, it seems like this would be the place to find them,” JD said, trying to joke. But he was uncomfortable. There was something about this place that freaked him out, made him feel as though he were being watched.

“Let’s find out. . . . ” Ty said, trailing off as they came to a tight, rickety stairway not unlike the one that led to the catwalk at the theater. “This way.”

She grabbed the basket from his hands and led the way, climbing so quickly it was almost as if she floated above the rung-like steps. He followed much less surely, planting his feet nervously and gripping the railings on either side.

The top of the stairs opened up into a bright, window-lined room. The walls were brick and the floors were thick slabs of wood. Iron pillars stood around the otherwise empty space. It was dusty and in disrepair. No one had been here in a long time.