She sat at the lunch table with Jackie and his friends. Since Chris Williams and his poison had left, they treated her well again. What had happened at the funeral seemed forgotten. But Raven didn’t pay much attention to them. Usually she read a book to distract her from thinking about Mama.
What would she do if Mama went to the spirit world? How would she live? Maybe the bad people of Mama’s warnings would find her when she no longer had the protection of Mama’s powerful spirit.
Raven forced herself to focus on her book. The roar of her frantic thoughts and the chaotic lunchroom receded as she read the words.
“What are you reading?”
She looked up at Jackie. His multicolored eyes were beautiful. Sometimes she could hardly look into them. In a way, Jackie was a disease of the heart, an actual pain that made her want to press her hand on her chest the way Mama did.
She showed him the cover of the book.
“One Hundred Years of Solitude,” he said. “Sounds like your life.”
It was the kind of joke Reece would have made. But Jackie couldn’t sustain the humor. He immediately looked regretful.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he said.
“Why not? It was funny.”
He glanced at the others at the table to make sure they weren’t listening. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she said.
He whispered, “No one cares about that stuff Chris said last spring. It’s over.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you always so quiet now?”
She wished she could tell him. She wanted to feel the way she had the night she’d sneaked into his house. The warmth of his body beneath his blanket. His arm around her.
“Raven?”
“It’s nothing.”
His look said he didn’t believe her.
After school, he found her before she got on the bus. “Let me drive you home,” he said.
It was almost a command. His father’s death had changed him. He wouldn’t have been so bold last year. Maybe it was simply maturity. And the absence of a girlfriend. Over the summer, he’d broken up with Sadie.
“It should be okay, right?” he said. “Your mom let you drive home with Chris last year.”
“You’ve probably heard what happened the last time he drove me home.”
“Yeah, the gun.”
“Are you sure you’re up for that?”
He looked worried. “Do you think she’ll—”
“I’m joking. Let’s go.”
He’d taken over the old car Huck used to drive. Raven was aware of the students in the parking lot watching her get in his car, but she didn’t waste her thoughts on them. She now knew the consequences of caring about “hive mind,” as Reece called it. She wouldn’t get stung again.
“So how’ve you been?” he asked. “I never get a chance to talk to you alone these days.”
“We haven’t really talked alone since I was seven and you were eight.”
“I guess not,” he said.
“How’s your mom?” she asked.
“She’s better. But she hides her sadness well.”
“What about you?”
“I really miss him, but I’m better than I was.” He glanced at her as he drove. “I asked how you are. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“I told you—”
“I’ve known you for a long time. There’s something wrong.”
“I can’t talk about it.”
“Why not? Your mother told you not to?”
“If she did, why would I talk about it?”
“I know. She told you never to set foot on our land again, and you never did. You take your promises to her too seriously.”
“What is this? Are you the new Reece?”
“My hair’s the wrong color.”
“I miss him,” she said.
“I know. He hardly ever stops by now that Huck’s gone.”
“At least you see him sometimes. And Huck is close enough to visit.”
“Yeah, but the house feels really weird with just my mom and me.” He added, “I guess you’re used to that.”
She was used to that. What would she do if Mama went to the spirit world? She looked out the window to hide her tears. When she thought he wouldn’t notice, she quickly wiped her hand over her face.
“Are you crying?”
“No.”
“Raven . . .”
“Could we just not talk for a while?”
That was how the rest of the drive was. Both of them quiet, her absorbing as much Jackie light as she could store up until the ride was over. She wondered if he still had the plastic stars on his bedroom ceiling.
He stopped the car in front of the gate, not hiding from the cameras.
“Do you want to ride with me again?” he asked. “It gets you home faster than the bus.”
She would arrive earlier to check on Mama. “I’d like to drive with you,” she said.
“Okay, good.” He looked out the front windshield in the direction of his house, about a mile down the country road. “I’d offer to take you to school in the morning, but I’d have no way to let you know when I’m not going to school. You’d miss the bus.”
He had already missed two days of school, and it was early in the semester. When he came back each time, he’d said he was sick.
“Sometimes I just can’t go,” he said.
Raven remembered the day she’d been too depressed to go to school.
“Because you’re too sad to go?” she asked.
He looked away from her. “Something like that. Over the summer, I had a few panic attacks. I see a psychologist sometimes.”
She’d heard other kids talk about panic attacks. “Is it bad when it happens?”
He nodded. “It took me a while before I could drive. Because my dad . . .”
“I can see how that would happen,” she said.
“I like having someone in the car. It helps.”
“I’ll ride with you anytime you want,” she said.
He looked anxious. “I asked you today because I wanted to talk to you. I didn’t ask just because of that.”
“I know.”
He looked out the window at her driveway. “Is your mom watching us? Is this okay?”
“It’s okay, but I’d better go.”
“I’ll see you
