I hardly dare to breathe, but I answer her. “What?”
She unties her bandana. Her brown hair falls over her shoulders, and she twists the bandana around in her hands. “You always believe me.”
I nod which she takes as encouragement.
“I know no matter what I do, you’ll believe me and trust me.” She reaches across and takes my hand. “And that means everything to me.”
I squeeze her hand in return and chance one more glance at her tattoo, holding my breath. But it still says death. A death which Chloe escaped.
I open my mouth because maybe this is the right moment to start telling Chloe everything that’s happened. “I never told you about my date,” I say. That seems like a good place to start.
Chloe just smiles. “I want to hear all about it, Piper. But can we talk about it tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Good.” And she spends the rest of Study Hall pretending to do homework, though all she does is trace her finger in circles over the screen of her tablet.
Chapter 21
Funeral
Wednesday after second period, I head to the funeral. I wait for one of the shuttles in front of the school, and I keep scanning the crowd, looking for either Chloe or Shayne, but it’s like I’m in a sea of unfamiliar faces. I know almost everyone around me, but I can’t focus on any of them. I say hi to a couple of the kids in my classes, but otherwise stick to myself.
My back is already drenched in sweat, and heat presses down. But there haven’t been any reports of impending heat bubbles, and, for now, I think the city will be spared any more disasters. This still doesn’t keep other kids from talking about it, and someone even starts taking bets on when the next bubble will hit. One sophomore guy claims it will be tomorrow; he swears he’s developed some equipment in his home lab that can predict to within the minute when the bubble will form. Given the random nature of the bubbles I’ve seen so far, I highly doubt he’s right, but on the off chance he is, he could make a killing. If nothing else, the kid’s got everyone hanging on his every word, juniors and seniors included. I hop a shuttle while he’s still talking and head to the funeral.
When I walk into the church, I can’t find Chloe anywhere. But it seems the rest of the city has turned up. Every seat is taken, and the standing and greeting areas are packed. I look down the long front aisle and see Randy Conner’s family at the front. From the back of the church, I spot his seven-year-old sister with her face turned enough that I can see her eyes are dry and her lips are pressed together like she’s holding back a river of tears which she never plans to let loose. I see the backs of his parents, his mom leaning away from his dad, toward his sister, and shaking with silent sobs. And as if he knows I’m watching, Randy’s dad turns, and our eyes meet. Anger flashes there, rooted so deep it’s wrapped and coiled around every bone and sinew in his body. It tears at him and eats him alive day after day. It’s a black mold around him, smothering him and everyone he touches. And, for some reason, I remember Acheron—the river of sorrows.
I shift my eyes, not wanting to empathically share his anger, and spot Randy’s girlfriend Hannah Reed there in the front. She sits on the side opposite from Randy’s family and won’t even look their way. Her wide dry eyes scan the crowd, not seeing anyone; if she notices me, she makes no acknowledgment.
What is Randy Conner’s final sorrow? What will he leave behind on his way to the Elysian Fields?
An usher sees me and tries to find me a spot. I end up standing against a red brick wall tucked into the place where they light candles. I move to the far back corner and wait. I’ll find Chloe later, after the Mass.
Mass begins with a song. “Amazing Grace.” It’s the same one they played at Charlotte’s funeral so long ago. Charlotte had been my best friend, but I never really knew Randy at all. He was a face in the hallways and a voice at the back of the classroom. A shadow next door after my mom threatened to skin him. But when the casket begins its trek down the long aisle, the sobs coming from the crowd around me bring an unexpected lump to my throat. I feel like I should have taken the time to know him better.
The priest motions everyone to sit when the song ends, so I lean back against the bricks but turn when I feel someone next to me.
“Shayne?”
He’s dressed in black, appropriate for the occasion, and his hair’s been combed neatly behind his ears. He squeezes my arm but doesn’t smile.
“Where have you been?” I whisper, almost under my breath, forcing the lump out of my throat. I know he’ll hear me.
“Busy.”
“Will you be back tomorrow?” I can’t stand the thought of sitting through another Social Sciences class wondering where he is.
He gives the smallest hint of a smile. “We’ll see tomorrow.”
“But you promised.”
“Promised what?” He reaches for a pack of matches set near the candles.
“You promised you’d be around.”
Shayne nods and strikes a match. The immediate sulfur smell hits the air. The flame flickers as he moves the match to an unlit votive candle. It takes a couple seconds, but the wick catches in a burst of light. Then he moves the still burning match close to his mouth and blows it out. “Do you have any special intentions?” He holds the pack of matches toward me.
I take them, pulling one out of the box. “What was your intention?” I ask.
His hand reaches up, brushing my arm. “I can’t tell you.”
“Like wishing on a star?”
Shayne nods. “Right. If you tell what you intend, then it won’t come to be.”
“Then I won’t tell you what I want.” But I hope he wonders.
I move the match to the box, ready to strike it when a flame flashes out of nowhere and the match ignites. I’m so startled that I drop it into the candle-holder. I stare at it, watching it burn and melt the surrounding wax until it sputters and extinguishes on its own. And then I turn to Shayne.
He’s staring at the match, now covered in cooling wax. His eyes shift to mine, and he smiles. He’s playing tricks on me. Using some god power from the Underworld to light the fire. So I take out another match, push the box closed, and prepare to strike it. Yet this time, it doesn’t ignite until I pull it across the scratchy paper. I dip it down, lighting the candle and letting the sulfur again enter my nose. And then I blow it out.
“So where have you been?” I ask.
He shakes his head and puts the pack of matches back in the recess. “I’ve been around.”
“But I haven’t seen you.” And if I haven’t seen him, he may as well not be around.
“You haven’t called me.”
He’s right. I haven’t, and I’m not entirely sure why. “You’re busy.” It’s the best reason in my mind. I opt not to mention the walk in the woods with Melina or the bedroom full of flowers from Reese. I’ll sort out Reese on my own.
Shayne nods. “Never too busy for you.”
I smile whether he means it or not.
“I almost came by yesterday,” he says.
My heart flutters. “Really?”
“I got to your front door,” he says. “I almost knocked.”
Had I felt his presence? I’d been so worried about Chloe, I hadn’t thought of much else. “Why didn’t you?”
His lips tighten. “I thought your mom might be home. I didn’t want her to see me.”
“You’re not scared of my mom are you?” Though in actuality, he probably should be. I’m scared of my mom.
“I’m not sure scared is the most appropriate word,” Shayne says.
“So why not just come to class?”
Shayne leans close and whispers into my ear. “It’s hard, Piper. I’m trying so hard to stay inside the boundaries, but more than anything in the world, I want to tear them down. And I can’t. No matter what that ends up meaning.”