The Lingering Grace (5 page)

But Alice wasn’t sure whether her immediate interest in Eva was because of the accident or due to something less easily defined—a quality that Alice couldn’t quite explain. One of the things Alice liked most about Tony was the fact that he was genuine. He never put on a show to impress other people. He was always himself, rain or shine. If there was one thing Alice hated the most about the kids in her classes, it was the posturing. But Eva … maybe it was the fact that her sister had just died, or maybe Alice was imagining it, but she seemed
real
. Her expression wasn’t easy to read, but she wasn’t wearing a mask either.

You can’t assume that about someone just by looking at them
, she told herself. And yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that Eva had the depth she craved in friends and never could find.

Mr. Segal immediately gave Eva a smile. “I was told you would be joining the class, Eva. Please—sit anywhere,” he said.

She nodded at him and the corners of her lips turned up—more of a grimace than a smile. There was an empty seat right behind Alice and she silently willed the girl to see it. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wish very hard. The only other open seats were on the edges of the first row and Eva made a beeline for the back. As she came closer, Alice noticed that Eva stared straight in front of her—focusing on the empty chair and only on that. Most new kids would have looked around, try to get a feel for their surroundings, identify the people most likely to be their friends—and the people to avoid. But Eva sat down without ever making eye contact with another living soul.

Alice recognized that look at once: focus.

“Hi,” she whispered over her shoulder.

Eva regarded her with a calmness that bordered on creepy. “Hi,” she said, then crossed her hands in her lap and stared at Mr. Segal in the emotionless yet attentive way that Alice often used when she wanted to blend in.

The usually perfectly composed Mr. Segal stumbled through Eva’s introduction. At first, Alice thought he wouldn’t even call attention to the new person in the classroom since he launched straight into announcements. But as he was collecting papers, he blurted out, “Oh, and everyone—before I forget—we have a new student.”

It wasn’t as if anyone had forgotten. And it wasn’t as if they didn’t already know who she was. Alice could tell from the way the room went silent with a communal breathlessness that the news about the new girl had already been eagerly passed around.

“Eva Grace just moved here with her … family,” he finished, choking out the last word as though he already regretted it. His smile flickered.

There was an outburst of whispering here—but even this was more urgent and somber than the usual gossipy buzz in the classroom.

“Did you hear that—”

“Is she—”

“Yeah, I know—”

A few of the preppy good-girls sitting in the front regarded Eva with sappy, obvious pity while the rough boys in the back corner averted their eyes. Several students watched her with knowing looks; Alice found that it wasn’t hard to tell who was familiar with death and who wasn’t. To her surprise, a few pairs of eyes darted to her face as well. She wondered if, like Emily, the rest of the school had already connected them as unlikely survivors of water tragedies.

“Anyway,” Mr. Segal’s chipper voice broke the silence and she found herself exhaling heavily; she didn’t realize she had been holding her breath. “Anyway—welcome Eva. We’re glad to have you. Now, today … ”

He launched into a speech about the approaching AP exam and how they would be required to write persuasively about provided source material. He hoped that this paper was good practice and he would be grading harshly to reflect the standards of the AP graders, and …

Alice’s mind wandered. She was very aware of Eva sitting behind her but didn’t dare turn to watch her—not even out of the corner of her eye—and as a result was sitting more stiffly than usual, her neck cramping up. The girl’s unearthly calm brought back unpleasant memories. After her aunt had died of breast cancer just last year, her two cousins seemed hollowed out, Toby more so than Alex. Toby would walk around the house, wearing normal clothes, doing normal things, but it was like he wasn’t there, like it was just his body living, walking, eating, while he himself hid somewhere, buried.

Maybe that was why Eva seemed so collected—maybe it was the emptiness, the grief. But Alice had looked into her eyes and had not seen absence. In fact, Eva seemed remarkably present. Alice was inherently drawn to complexity—for better or worse—and was dying to talk to the girl, to find out what was going on in her mind. She never could resist a puzzle.

Mr. Segal chattered on about primary sources, something about the internet, a short Wikipedia-bashing …

Alice couldn’t focus. She looked down at her hands, which were resting on her desk, and realized that she was tracing circle after circle in her left palm. Her heart started to pound as the events of last night replayed in her mind. Desperate for a distraction, she started mouthing the spell. It couldn’t hurt; without the water, nothing would happen.

Out of rippling blue,

Rippling blue—white—gold

Into yellow.

Into red.

Into air
…

She wasn’t even sure how she remembered the words. Unlike the poems she had memorized for class, she wasn’t consciously thinking the words—her lips simply remembered how to move. Each word had its own taste: spicy and ever so slightly sweet. She swallowed hard, shutting her mouth tightly, but the scent of the words tickled the back of her throat, and she started to cough.

“Cough drop?” mouthed Hailey, a sometimes obnoxious but usually well-meaning girl who sat to her left. Alice shook her head and Hailey shrugged, brushing her tight black curls off her shoulders.

As Alice reached for her water bottle, a bead of sweat trickled down her forehead.

Hailey picked up her textbook and started to fan herself with the cover.

“Mr. Segal,” she interrupted, “can you turn on the AC? It’s boiling.”

“It feels fine up here, Hailey,” Mr. Segal said.

“I’m dying. Is anyone else dying?” She looked around.

Mr. Segal gave in. “I’ll turn it down a little, but I don’t want it to get too cold.”

Several students protested. Someone in the back muttered something about menopause and a few people sniggered. Alice gulped down the entire contents of her water bottle; her face felt like it might melt off. What was happening? How could something be happening when she didn’t even have the ingredients for the spell? The words alone couldn’t be that powerful … could they? She realized with a jolt that Mr. Segal was staring at her.

“Are you okay, Alice?” he asked, talking over the laughter and angry mutterings.

“Yeah,” she gasped out, nearly spewing a mouthful of water all over her desk. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He frowned and quietly turned down the thermostat a few degrees before he moved back to the front of the classroom.

But she wasn’t fine, and as he started talking again, it was all she could do to repress the growing surge of panic. The tickling, searing heat in her mouth was unaffected by the water. In fact, it was growing stronger with every anxious, shallow breath she took. She didn’t know what it was, didn’t even have a name for it, and the fact that she had no idea what would happen if this went on much longer only contributed to the fear. She pushed herself to the edge of her chair, preparing to bolt out of the room.

That’s when she felt the hand on her shoulder.

“It’s ok,” a voice whispered in her ear; the girl’s cool breath tickled her skin. “Take ten deep breaths. One … two … ”

The grip on her shoulder steadied her and she breathed in and out—feeling her lungs, feeling the air. The minute she began to calm herself, the sensation faded, then disappeared completely. She was left shivering but in control. Her face was dripping sweat.

Without another word, the girl let go and for the rest of the class Alice focused on simply breathing in and out. Her heart took at least fifteen minutes to stop racing. She wasn’t sure what had just happened. Had she channeled magic just by speaking the words? The spell hadn’t worked as intended. So why had it worked at all?

More than that, she was afraid to ask how the girl knew something was wrong—and how she knew what to do.

Eventually, class ended and Alice reached for her backpack. Half of the students were already out of their seats and heading for the door as Mr. Segal called out, “I’ll have your day-to-day life reflected in literature essays back to you by the end of the week. Don’t forget to get started on the Industrial Age reading for Thursday. We’ll be doing a free-response practice essay in class.”

Everyone groaned and Rafael—a smart but snarky boy whom Alice both admired and feared—shouted, “Practice? How is it practice if it’s just as long and annoying as the real thing?”

“Be grateful, Raf. Some kids—”

Rafael waved his hand at Mr. Segal, cutting him off. “I know, I know. Not everyone has these ‘opportunities.’ Education is important.”

“Exactly.” Mr. Segal shook his head but smiled as Rafael strutted out of the room. Constant complaining was just part of the game Rafael played with everyone.

Alice took a deep breath and turned around to talk to Eva, who was zipping up her backpack—buttons clanging—but had barely gotten out a breathless “Thanks” when she saw Mr. Segal approaching out of the corner of her eye. She thought of her paper and clenched her own backpack tightly, remembering that he had been leafing through the papers while they took a quiz at the end of class.

“Alice,” he said. His voice was low, confidential, and she braced herself. She didn’t think she could stand the guilt that Mr. Segal’s “chats” always left her feeling.

“Uh huh?”

He slipped into the chair in front of hers. “I didn’t want to say anything during class, but—” She braced herself. “You look like you’re not feeling well. Do you need a note to go to the nurse?”

“Oh.” The sound was airy but sharp, like the pop of opening a soda can.

“Are you okay?”

“I—I’m fine. Yeah, I just … I was feeling a little weird, but I’m okay now.”

“Hmm.” He looked unsatisfied. “Okay, then. But if you start feeling sick again, you really should see the nurse.”

“I’m fine. Really.”

She got up and glanced behind her—only to see that Eva had slipped away while she was distracted. The room was nearly empty except for a couple girls talking by the door.

With a quick goodbye to Mr. Segal, she rushed out of the room and into the hallway, but she couldn’t see anything in the writhing mass of backpacks and teenagers snaking their way en masse to their next class. Resigning herself to being trapped in the crowd, she tightened her backpack straps and wondered what the odds were that Eva would be in any of her other classes.

Apparently, the odds were against her because Alice didn’t see even a glint of Eva’s glittering backpack until she was walking out to the parking lot after her last class. Even though she hadn’t seen Eva in person, Alice had spent the entire day talking about her. There was no shortage of rumors about the new girl and Alice, not usually one to try to keep up with gossip, asked everyone—from occasional acquaintances to almost-friends—what they had heard about her.

Holly, in history class, told her a gripping story about how Eva’s little sister had been autistic and liked to escape from the house at night. Eva heard her walk out the door the night it happened and had immediately run after her, but it was too late. Her sister was already in the water. Eva dove in after her but almost drowned too because of how terribly the little girl was thrashing around.

“You can see it in her eyes, don’t you think?” Holly had asked eagerly.

“See what?” Alice feigned ignorance, hiding her surprise. Holly didn’t seem the type to dwell on the hidden sorrows in other people’s faces.

“Sadness. Ugh, it’s such a tragedy. You can tell she’s totally depressed about it,” Holly said, smacking her gum. “I wonder what it’s like to know someone who died.”

Like Holly, a lot of the people Alice knew talked about the accident as if it were a particularly interesting TV episode. It made Alice’s stomach turn. She could remember her aunt lying in a casket, wearing the unnatural, heavy makeup the mortician had applied. There was nothing glamorous about bright red lipstick caked onto lips that had lost their color long ago.

But Holly’s story was just one of many, wildly varying accounts that Alice collected over the day. They were so different that she couldn’t even pick out a thread of common knowledge to call truth.

“Did you hear that it was her idea in the first place? To go swimming? Yeah, she totally dragged her little sister into the pool and then she drowned when Eva was swimming around. God, it’s like she murdered her own sister.”

“Yeah, when she realized where her sister was, she ran outside and dove in after her, but it was too late. The kid was lying face down, just floating there. Eva totally lost it, I heard. Like she was freaking out so bad, she almost drowned too.”