All In My Head (First Tracks Book 1) (19 page)

I hid from everyone for the next week, skipped all of my
classes and locked myself in my room if anyone else was home. When I didn’t
think anyone would notice, I went out to run, usually in the pouring rain. I
tried everything that could possible bring Marcus back: running, a twenty-five
mile long bike ride, drinking a beer… I stopped short of picking up a guy. I
thought about it. I wanted to try it. It seemed like that would make him mad
enough that he’d jump back in my head and do something about it. But I just
couldn’t do it.

There was one other thing I hadn’t tried. It was the next
thing on the list. The next Monday morning, Jazz tried to talk me into going to
class, but I told her I just couldn’t muster up the energy.

“Ave, you can’t just give up,” Jazz said, looking sick with
worry as she stood halfway in my doorway. “You can’t live in bed.”

“I actually have some things I want to do instead.” I sat up
like I had a plan. Actually, I did. Just not one I could tell her about.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Jazz sighed. “Ave, it hurts now, but your life is more than
just some guy. Yeah, I know, not just
some
guy, but still, a guy.”

I swung my feet to the floor. “You’re right… I just needed
some time to say goodbye.”

“Okay.” She held my gaze for a second before leaving. I felt
horrible for bringing her down with me, and I even knew how pathetic it looked
to be this torn up over a relationship. By all accounts, it’d been a
relationship with an imaginary man.

Still.

I’d been lying there thinking in the middle of the night
again, and felt like Marcus was there, telling me to get up. I’d whispered his
name, expecting him to answer…and when he didn’t, I wasn’t sure if I’d just
been imagining things or realizing what he’d tell me if he saw me like this.
Even if it wasn’t him prodding me to get up, he
would
do that. I had to
do
something.
Wasn’t I a problem solver? I used to think I could figure
my way through anything, and that was when life was just about surviving and
getting through. That’s not what I wanted to focus on anymore.

The other thing was, I couldn’t move on until I knew Marcus
was okay. What if he hadn’t gotten back to his life? What if he was stuck in
some kind of in between or something? There had to be a different ending than
just losing him in an instant.

After Jazz left, I got in my car, expecting to hear Marcus.
It was our special place where I’d felt free to talk to him out loud. Nothing
happened. I was starting to wonder if I had made the entire thing up. Maybe it
had really messed me up when I lost my parents. The stress could have been
building all this time, and then the concussion broke everything loose. It
wasn’t a totally illogical theory, especially when compared to what I actually
believed.

I drove down the freeway and out to Mount Ashland, waiting
for Marcus to pop up and tell me I was crazy for even thinking about this. It’d
rained most of spring break, which was snow in the upper passes. The ski resort
had opened again. It was cloudy and misty now, which suited my mood just fine.

At the resort, I rented equipment and headed out, not
noticing much except that other people were laughing and talking together. Everything
there would have made me think of Marcus if I let it, but I kept on track. I
was on a mission. I wanted to replicate the day of my accident. Nothing else
had worked; it was the only other thing I could think of. I went at it with a
vengeance, flying down too fast and a taking a jump. It wasn’t that big, but as
soon as I lifted off I knew Marcus wasn’t here to help me. I landed hard on my
side. A few times I sorta landed a simple jump, hitting the snow wrong but not
completely stopping. While I went up and down the hill, the sun came out and
went away again, bringing snow. I needed to try something bigger.

I saw it coming. It was the same jump I’d crashed on during
that trip. I had way more speed this time going into it. I soared even higher,
way too high to ever land this.

I wiped out big time, rolling and sliding to a stop. But I
didn’t hit my head. How had I even managed that the first time? I uncurled and
laid out flat, breathing hard up at the dark gray sky. My breath made little
clouds in the tiny snowflakes fluttering down. This wasn’t working any better
than playing the guitar, so I was hot, sweaty and frustrated. And still alone.

“Hey, you okay?” a voice called out, coming closer.

I rolled my head to watch a man skid to a stop close by, but
not close enough to spray snow on me. He eased over to me, crouching down. His snow
glasses covered the top half of his face. His nose dominated the other half:
one of those Roman noses with a big bump. “Hello?”

“I’m okay.” I didn’t move though.

“You sure? That was one
noice
wipe out.” He pulled up
his visor and scanned up and down my body. “Nothing bent funny?”

It hadn’t been that bad.

“I’m fine. I just needed to catch my breath.” I blinked a
snowflake out of my lashes.  

“You’re getting it.”

“Huh?” It sure didn’t look like it.

“I’ve been watching you. Gotta say, you’re dedicated. But
you’re getting it.”

He’d been watching me? For how long? I wanted to glance
around but couldn’t while flat on my back. He hopped out of his board and bent
over me, holding out a hand. He had a friendly, open look about him. I took his
hand and let me haul me up.

“Wow, you’re a light little thing.”

I laughed, imagining Marcus popping in my head to say the
guy was flirting. My laugh hurt.

“I’m Cricket.”

“Cricket? I’m Avery…and apparently needing a cooler name.”

He laughed again, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and nodded back
up the hill. “I’ll walk you up. Make sure you’re okay.”

“Thanks.” I felt a little stiff as I began to walk, probably
from biffing it all day long. We walked ten paces while I went over everything
I did—why didn’t it work?

“I have a question for you,” I asked.

“Shoot.”

We lumbered a few more steps up the mountain. “Do you happen
to know a snowboarder named Marcus?”

“The Marcus?” He shook his head in admiration. “Dude. I wish.
You do mean Marcus Fields, right? Did you know him?”

Did
you know him.

I stopped so abruptly I fell forward and caught myself with
one hand. Cricket stopped, his face pinched into a squint to look at me. “Gold
medal in Sochi. Top competitor. You didn’t mean that Marcus?”

Gold medal. Traveling the world. Competing. Marcus had been
right. He was driven.

“Yeah, actually. That Marcus. You do know him?”

“Well, know of him.” He looked down. “Man, it’s sad. Such a
loss. Real shitty after what he did for our sport.” Cricket looked up at my
face. “Oh… Sure you’re okay?”

Such a loss.

The lodge was right ahead of us.

“Yes, I’m good. Thanks so much for your help!” I tried
jogging up the snow, which had to look great from behind, and gunned it back to
the rentals to return my gear.

Maybe Marcus had been a ghost? Didn’t that mean I could get
him back? Did I want to do that to him, if I could?

Marcus Fields. I branded his name into my brain, chanting it
until I got back to the car. I just two bars of service. Hopefully enough to
search online.
Marcus Fields.
It took my trembling hand forever to tap
it out.

“Marcus Fields Took a Downturn Tuesday Evening” read the
headline. “Field’s family is unsure of survival.”

Tuesday? That was almost a week ago. I slumped back in the
seat, confused. So he had been alive somewhere else while living in my head.
What did this mean?

I sat staring out the window at steel colored clouds for a
good hour but couldn’t make myself start the car or even move. What if he was
gone for good?

Hey, Babe? Who’s gone?

I jumped. Shook my head. I’d been waiting and listening so
hard that I couldn’t tell if that had been real. I waited several long, quiet
seconds before whispering, “Marcus?”

Yeah? It feels like you’ve been sitting here forever. What are
you moping around for?

“You’re really here?”

What’s the matter? Did Nash dump you?

“What the hell! You’re pulling an attitude at me? You up and
left me and you’re throwing a hissy fit about Nash?”

I felt him pull back, stung.

Why are you so mad?

“Because you just left me.”

But… I am confused. I left?

Relief washed through me, feeling warm and hazy, like a
buzz. He hadn’t left me on purpose.

“I thought you were dead,” I said as evenly as I could. “It’s
been six days.”

Dude… wow. Where did I go? And you’re not mad I’m back? Because
that’s what you wanted all along.

Not all along, I realized. At the beginning. He’d wanted the
same thing back then.  

Not anymore. You know that. I told you I’m in love with you. We
were practically together back there in that bath.

Energy crashed into me. I couldn’t sit still. So I jumped
out of the car and walked in the parking lot, to the next car over about fifty
feet away and back. I paced it a couple times, wanting to run around and
scream, but trying to control myself.

Is this anger? What’s going on? Talk to me.

Finally I sat back in the car but left the door open,
needing the cold air.

“There’s an article that says you… ” I stopped, pulled in a
shaky breath, and shook with a sob. I curled up into the driver’s seat, wanting
to stop the tears and awful noise but I couldn’t. Marcus waited as long as he
could stand it.

What article?

“Your name is Marcus Fields,” I whispered. “And you’re a
professional snowboarder.”

Images avalanched down on us, pouring through my head,
taking both Marcus and me on a journey through practices and trail runs and
competitions. I landed in his head, experiencing his life. We were on the
board, going into the halfpipe.

180. Bam! Sliding down the halfpipe to the other side.

360. Bam!

Marcus took the whole course, hitting jumps on both sides
before shooting out the other end and out into flat snow, then he flew down the
flats, remembering his life.

What’s the date?

“April… fifth.” I’d lost track of the actual date, to tell
the truth. “Why?”

First, we missed your birthday. Dude. Gonna have to fix that.
And second, whohoo, the season isn’t over!

His spirits soared to new heights. At least I hadn’t seen
him like that.

Avery, we can have it allllll!

He pictured a long jump—no turns or flips, just sailing
through the crisp, mountain air.

My heart about exploded. I just couldn’t let go and feel all
of that yet.  “First things first.” I picked my phone up from the passenger
seat and went back to the search results, scrolling down so we could see
articles from a month ago:

“Marcus Field Wins Gold in HalfPipe, Bronze in New Sport
Slope style”

“New Half Pipe Champion!”

“Giant Upset as Golden Boy Marcus Fields Blows Away The
Competition”

“Just Weeks After Winning The Gold in Men’s Half Pipe,
Marcus Fields In Serious Crash”

His mind jumped to light speed, connecting clues, filling in
blanks and remembering. I saw some of his memories flash one after another.

Open that last article.

 I wanted to know the truth but I didn’t want to at the same
time.

“Fields
is making news once again. First he won the gold medal in men’s halfpipe
snowboarding, but just three weeks later was injured in a head on collision,
sending him into a coma. The days turned into weeks and friends and family were
left to wonder if this was the end of not only his career, but Marcus as they
knew him.”

I couldn’t read any more.

Marcus was sober too. We could check for newer articles to
see what happened since then, but…

“You’re back, Marcus. You can’t be dead.”

But I’m in a coma.

“Hold up. You’re real. This wasn’t all some hallucination. Oh.
My. God. Marcus, you’re real. I’m not crazy! I’M NOT CRAZY!” I threw my arms
up, hitting the car ceiling on accident. My phone landed in the crack between
the seat and console.

But, HELLO, I’m in a coma somewhere.

“Which means we can fix this.” I drummed the steering wheel
with both hands. “I’m a problem solver. I always figure out a way. Remember
what you told me—if we can do this, we can do anything. Remember?”

Ave, then let me read!

He was pacing in my head, winding up with explosive energy,
and I could feel his confusion and total tornado of emotions as he scanned the
search results. Marcus was out there somewhere with a body. Alive. Real. Touchable.

Heart racing like a hummingbird, I googled his name again
and hit Images.

Hey, hold up, I need to read those other links.

“In a min.” I wanted to see
him.

You’re seen me, Ave.

“Not
seen
seen. And, hello, you’ve seen me naked.”

Uh, not exactly.

“Uh, well, you’ve seen more of me than anyone else ever has.
In the shower and bath counts as naked, even if you weren’t there to use your
hands the way you described.” I didn’t think those words out before speaking,
and we both started picturing things we shouldn’t right now.

“I want a photograph,” I told him. I loved seeing him in my
mind but I wanted to see if that matched up with reality.

It did.

Marcus was real and mind-blowingly good looking. The search
page filled with mid-air shots of him suited up and on a board, or jumping a
bike, or flying over a course on skis, but the first photo was a professional
head shot, from the waist up. First impression: hot guy in a leather bomber
jacket, about my age or a year older I’d guess.