After Ever (24 page)

“No, Sam, I don’t want a
medal
.” Even though a medal would be kind of cool. “I want to go to my funeral.”

“Your funeral,” he repeats dubiously.

“Yes. Ellie said I should go, and I want to go.”

If Sam notices the tension in my voice he doesn’t say anything. Instead he stands up and offers his hand. I take it, and he pulls me to my feet. “Then we’ll go.”

All of sudden attending my own funeral doesn’t seem like such an awesome idea. Hunching my shoulders to avoid knocking myself out on the low ceiling, I begin to pace back and forth across the length of the tree house. “I mean, we don’t have to go. We should probably wait here for Francesca to get back. Where is she, anyways? You know, she is going to owe me huge for this. I’m talking super duper—”

“Win, it’s okay to be a little afraid,” Sam interrupts quietly.

I jerk to a halt. “I’m not… I’m not
afraid
,” I scoff, rolling my eyes.

“Fine.” Sam holds up his hands, palms tipped outwards. “You’re not afraid. Of anything,” he mumbles under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing. We’ll go to your funeral and then come right back here, okay? Francesca will wait for us.”

“How do we get there?” I ask.

“To the present?”

I nod.

“Only one way. We have to go through the hallway which means—”

“The Origin Door,” I finish for him. “I really never want to go back there.”

Sam’s eyebrows lift. “And you think I do?”

“Come on, oh powerful guide.” I sling my arm around his shoulders. Sam tenses for a moment, looking surprised by the unexpected contact, before he relaxes into my side. We fit, I can’t help but notice, quite nicely together. Like two puzzle pieces clicking snugly into place. “I’ll protect you.”

Our second trip back to the elementary school is much more uneventful than the first. We reach the Origin Door without incident, and step through it with our arms linked. I hold my breath and cringe, half expecting to end back up in one of those solitude rooms, but this time Ellie doesn’t interfere and we end up exactly where we wanted to be: in the hallway that smells like curry.

“So what now?” I turn in a slow circle as I study the hallway with renewed interest. The first time I was here I was still in shock and a lot of the details passed me by. Now I notice that every door has writing on it. Some of the writing is scribbled, some is neatly typed. The door that we just came through is labeled:

OTTSVILLE TOWNSHIP & SURROUNDING

TERRITORIES, 30 MR, PENNSYLVANIA

“What does that mean?” I ask, pointing.

Sam glances in the direction of my finger. “Each door designates a certain place. This one will always take whoever goes through it to the town of Ottsville and anywhere within a thirty mile radius.”

“Oh.” I guess it makes sense. “How many doors are there?”

“In the hallway? Nearly an infinite amount.”

“So how do we find the one we want?”

“It works a lot like creating a Jump Door. Think of where you want to go, and the right door should appear,” Sam explains.

He makes it sound easy, but when he rocks back on his heels and crosses his arms, I realize with a little jolt of apprehension that he wants
me
to call up the correct door. “Uh… so how do I do this?”

Half of Sam’s face is hidden in shadow, but I can see the flash of his white teeth as he grins. “Going to the present is slightly different. You have to think of a person you want to go to instead of a place. Give it your best shot.”

My eyes narrow. I don’t like the arrogance in Sam’s tone, or his cocky smile.
He thinks I’m going to fail
, I realize. He thinks he has given me a task I can’t possibly complete, and he’s waiting to see the expression on my face when I have to ask him for help. What a jerk.

“Out of the way,” I demand, waving my arms in a sweeping half circle. Sam steps neatly to the side as I close my eyes and imagine Brian’s face. I can’t know for sure if he would be at my funeral, but that doesn’t matter. I want to go where ever he is. I want to see him, one last time. To see that he is all right. To see that he is happy. To see that he is alive.

I hear a quiet
whoosh
of air, and then feel a breeze move across my face. It intensifies in strength, whipping my hair back and making it difficult to open my eyes. When I do, I am amazed by the sight in front of me.

Doors are flying past, so quick they are nothing more than a blur of different colors, some green, some blue, others black and orange and pink. The lights overhead flare bright, blinding me, and I stagger from the weight of the wind.

“How are you doing this?” Sam shouts.

I see him out of the corner of my eye. He has braced himself, legs apart, arms tightly crossed. I would have laughed at the disbelief written in clear lines across his face, if I could move my lips.

“There,” he yells suddenly, jabbing out one arm to point at a door that is rapidly approaching. “That’s the one you want. We have to jump, it won’t stop!”

I wonder how he knows that’s the right one, until it draws closer and I see it is the only door that is open wide, revealing what is on the other side. I see a flash of a bright blue sky, the pale white of snow, people huddled together in dark clusters, and Brian.
I see Brian
.

Sam grabs my arm. Our fingers entwine and lock. We crouch low, our eyes trained on the door. When it is right in front of us, we leap through it together.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

“Did we make it?” I sit up, one hand pressed to the side of my head. Sam is sprawled face first in front of me. He sits up a groans, before he shoots to his feet and whirls around, his eyes wide.

“Win you did it,” he says in a hushed voice. “Do you know what this means?”

I push myself to my feet, wincing a bit as my right shoulder moans in protest. “I’m really awesome?” I guess.

Sam shoots me a look. “No, it means you’re a Level Two. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Uh, because I didn’t know?” Except I kind of did. Ellie’s cryptic message plays back in my mind:

You are welcome, by the way.

For what?

You will see.

I punch Sam in the arm. Hard.

“Hey,” he complains, scowling at me. “What was that for?”

“For setting me up to fail. If I was a Level One I never would have been able to move those doors, would I?”

“Well… no,” he admits, not quite meeting my eyes.

“You’re lucky that you’re cute.” The words are out before I have time to snatch them back. Utterly mortified, I walk swiftly past him. Snow crunches under my feet. I recognize the back of the resort a few yards in front of us, and I start to follow the trail that leads to the front, keeping a sharp eye out for Brian.  

Sam trails after me, his expression stunned. “You think I’m cute?”

“Shut up, Sam.”

“But isn’t that what you just said? Were you serious?”

“Shut
up
, Sam.”

“I mean, my mom always said I was cute. I guess I just never really believed her until right—”

“Sam, shut UP!” Incensed, I stop short. Sam slams into me from behind and the momentum carries us both rolling down over a short, steep incline I had been trying to avoid. We land in a tangle of arms and legs. Spitting out a mouthful of snow, I glare darkly up at Sam.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, adjusting his glasses and offering out a hand.

“You’re on thin ice,” I warn as I haul myself up.

“Really?” he says skeptically.

“Really what?”

“You’re going to use
that
analogy? Come on. It’s a little obvious, isn’t it? I mean, ‘thin ice’? You can do better than that.”

How is that Sam can make me want to scream at the top of my lungs and laugh until I cry at the same time? Shaking my head, I march on, lured by the sober hum of voices. Having my funeral at the place where I died wouldn’t have been my first choice, but I suppose there is some kind of poetic justice in all of it.

After all, how many memorials have I seen on the interstate? Flowers left out by the telephone pole that claimed a life too soon. Ribbons tied to the tree that went head to head with a motorcycle and won.

People find comfort in believing their loved ones are at peace, even if it means honoring the place where they died.

We reach the edge of the small crowd that has gathered to mourn my death in front of the resort. Everyone is bundled up in dark clothing, their faces shielded from the cold by fur hats and scarves.

“Why would they have it outside?” I murmur to Sam.

“They did the same thing with me,” he says, standing close. “Do you see your dad or Brian?”

I squint, looking for their familiar faces. To my surprise I see Bridget standing near the front, closest to the priest who is dressed all in black and speaking in a low, gravelly voice. Her eyes are bright with tears and as I watch, barely able to believe what I am seeing, she brings a tissue out of her coat pocket and blows loudly into it. “No, I don’t see them. We have to get closer.”

Sam grasps my elbow. “Be careful,” he says in my ear. “You know the number one rule. Don’t interfere with the lives of the living. You can walk past them. You can even touch them or speak to them, but you can’t do anything that would change their natural actions.”

I bite down on my lip, drawing comfort from the feel of my lip ring gliding against my teeth. “Will they be able to see me?”

“No,” Sam says vehemently. “Absolutely not. They can’t sense you either. No one will have any idea we’re here.”

I take a deep breath. Sam must sense my apprehension, because he rests his hand in the small of my back and presses gently.

“Take your time,” he says.

I have made it this far by pretending the sleek black coffin resting in front of the priest is anyone other than me. At least the lid is closed. I don’t know if I would have been able to go up to the front and stare down at my lifeless body.

“Did you go to your funeral?” I ask Sam over my shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Did it help?”

He’s quiet for a moment, his gray eyes thoughtful, before he finally says, “Yeah, it did. A lot.”

That’s all I need to hear. Silently I hold out my hand. Sam takes it without hesitating and together we cut a swath through the crowd. I recognize people as we walk past them. People from the resort. People from home. People from school. So many people, people who haven’t talked to me in years, people who I haven’t seen since the last funeral I attended.

Anger blossoms inside of me, hot and boiling, like a pot of water left out too long on the stove. Sam’s fingers tighten.

“Calm down,” he hisses. “It’s going to be okay. You can do this.”

I can do this
.

We drift to the front, to the first row of plastic white folding chairs that have been set out side by side. The priest is still speaking, but I tune him out. I tune out everything and everyone, because there, sitting directly in front of my coffin, is what remains of my family.

Brian sits in my dad’s lap. He is still, too still for a five year old boy. He doesn’t even blink as he stares straight ahead, his little face frozen in place. Relief and sadness war within me. Relief that I can finally see for myself that he is all right, and an incredible sadness as it finally sinks in that he is lost to me forever.

Beside him is Trish, vibrant in her hot pink ski suit. I know she has a black coat, just as I know her decision to flaunt the outlandish ski suit is a silent tribute to me and despite myself, I am touched. For once Trish has chosen to stand out from the crowd.

I take a few steps closer. Suddenly my dad’s entire body goes rigid. Brian begins to squirm. My dad says a few quick, urgent words to Trish and she reaches out her arms to take my brother.

“Sam,” I whisper frantically, “Sam I think something is happening. I think… I think my dad knows I’m here.”

“Impossible,” Sam says confidently. “Trust me Win, there’s no way he could. We’re completely invisible to everyone here.”

I glance at my dad again, looking hard at his profile, searching for any signs, however slight, that indicate he somehow senses I am near. Call me crazy, but I don’t hold much stock in the impossible anymore. Not after everything I’ve just been through.

His eyes are bloodshot from crying. He is wearing a formal black suit, one he must have had shipped from home. His hands are clenched tight in his lap and he sits ramrod straight, his spine a good three inches from the back of the chair.

I relax slightly. It must have been my imagination. Of course my dad can’t sense me. Sam is right. We’re invisible as air. As far as my dad is concerned I’m in that coffin, dead and gone.

“Okay. We can go back now. I feel… lighter,” I decide after searching for the right word. And it’s true. I do feel lighter, like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I have seen my dad. I have seen my brother. They’re not perfect, they won’t be perfect for a long time, but they’re alive and that’s more than I can say for myself.

“Are you sure?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“All right, then follow me and we’ll go back the way we—”

Sam is cut off by a sudden flurry of motion and a man’s desperate yell.

“WINNIFRED!”

I whirl around just in time to see my dad leap up from his chair and stagger towards me, looking as if he’s just seen a ghost. Which, I guess from his perspective, he sort of has. Horrified, Trish tries to grab his hand but he shrugs her off, his gaze unwavering as he stares straight at me.   

“Oh shit,” Sam breathes, his gray eyes widening as all the colors drains from his face. “This is not good.”

“Sam, he can see me, right? I mean, look at him!”

My dad is advancing on us with slow, deliberate steps. Sam and I begin to backpedal, tripping over people’s feet and purses as we hastily make our way back down the makeshift aisle.