As Dead As It Gets

I bolted upright, out of Jared’s arms. “Hi, Mr. Elkins.”

“Pete,” he said. “Call me Pete.”

Jared’s father gave us an awkward smile and disappeared into the kitchen.

I looked at Jared and shook my head. He pulled me back close to his chest. “He doesn’t mind,” Jared said, and I didn’t know if he meant his father didn’t mind that we were snuggled up together on the couch, or being called by his first name.

I un-snuggled. Whether he minded or not, it felt too weird to be so cuddly in front of somebody’s dad.

Mr. Elkins didn’t seem any more comfortable with it than I did. “Well, good to see you,” he said, coming back through with a cup of coffee in his hand and eyes averted.

“You too,” I said.

“Jared?” he said, and Jared looked up at him. “Um…things good? You happy?”

“Dad.” Jared said the word as a kind of laugh. “Go back to your office.”

Mr. Elkins flushed a little. “All right. I’ll do that. I—good to see you again—”

“Dad.”

After all tongue-tied parents were safely stowed, I finished my hot chocolate and nestled back into Jared’s arms, nearly dozing off. I lingered in that twilighty pre-sleep state, forgetting Carter and Zoe, forgetting Ashleen, forgetting the bright white light.

“I was just wondering.…” Jared’s voice woke me up by sending delicious shivers down my spine. “Why’s your camera in your car?”

The question stu

Our cameras had been what brought us together; creating photos was Jared’s greatest love, and when I said I wanted to cut back, he’d basically given it up to spend time with me, doing anything but photography. Now I’d been going behind his back and taking pictures—for almost a month. True, they were only for the yearbook, but I knew that didn’t matter. It was the principle of the thing.

“I’m just…doing this stupid thing for school,” I said. I could hear how inadequate it sounded.

“What stupid thing?” His voice was light, as if it weren’t a big deal. But if that had been the case, he would have let it go.

“Taking some pictures for the yearbook. Nothing big.”

He tensed. “What kind of pictures?”

“Um…posed portraits. Of the language clubs, sports teams…” I sat up and shook my head, trying to remember. “Student Council…”

Jared narrowed his eyes. “Huh. So by Student Council, you mean Carter?”

I know honesty is the best policy and all, but I was severely regretting that particular bit of honesty.

“Yeah,” I said. “I mean, he was there. But it’s not a big deal.”

Jared choked out a laugh. “No, of course not. Why would it be a big deal? I mean, you were only together for five months. Why shouldn’t you spend the afternoon with him?”

“It’s not like that.” My heart started to flutter. “I’m spending the afternoon with you. I spent maybe five minutes with Carter.”

He was silent for a moment. I started to hope he would let the subject drop, but no such luck.

“Can I see the pictures?”

“No,” I said, sitting back, away from him. “Why? What difference does it make?”

“You said yourself it’s not a big deal.”

“It’s not.” My throat tightened. Don’t you dare cry right now, Alexis. “But I’m not going to be scolded like a kid who stole a candy bar from a drugstore.”

He gave a quick, disapproving shake of his head. “Is that supposed to be a metaphor for my feelings? I guess I’m…the drugstore? A nameless corporate entity? Is that how you see me?”

Without a word, I got up off the couch and hurried to the bathroom, where I splashed cold water on my face. The girl staring back at me in the mirror was flushed, her eyes vivid blue against the angry red of her cheeks.

She looked wretched and flustered.

She looked scared.

She looked…weak.

I leaned against the wall for a minute, squeezing my eyes shut. Why did every single tiny thing in my life have to be difficult?

Finally, I opened my eyes and stared at my reflection. I was past the danger of crying, but I couldn’t stop my heart from beating like a snare drum.

There was a knock at the door. “Alexis?”

“Just a second,” I said.

“Open the door,” Jared said. “Please. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

The longer I watched, the worse things would get. I flung the door open, like pulling a Band-Aid off all at once.

Jared stood across the hall, his hands in his pockets. “I trust you completely. If I gave you the impression that I don’t, then I owe you an apology.”

“I’m sorry. I should have told you,” I said. “But it’s only for school. I swear.”

“Of course it is.” His voice was as soft as velvet. He beckoned me toward him. “Come here.”

Like there was a magnetic co

“We shouldn’t do this,” he whispered into my hair. “We shouldn’t upset each other.”

“I know,” I replied, letting my cheek rest against his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said.

By the time I’d raised my eyes to look at him, his lips were on mine.

I WOKE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, covered with my thick comforter and a coating of sweat, like someone had turned the heat up and left it blasting. As I went to push the covers off, I realized there was something in my left hand.

I turned the light on and sat up, pulling whatever it was out from under the covers. Something stung my thumb, and I flung the thing to the floor. Sticking my stung thumb in my mouth, I stared at the object on my carpet—

A single yellow rose.

Then I became aware that something else was wrong—something far worse than the rose.

It was a sleeve. A sleeve of pale purple chiffon, fluttering weightlessly around my arm.

And it was attached to a dress. The dress. The one Ashleen had worn.

The dress I was wearing now.

I climbed out of my bed and stood in the center of my room, grabbing at the gauzy layers and trying to figure out how someone could have changed my clothes entirely without waking me up.

I reached over my shoulder to see if there was a zipper in the back of the dress. There wasn’t. A little more patting down revealed one under my right arm. I unzipped it, then went to slip the dress off—but I couldn’t.

When I checked the zipper, it was zipped again.

I unzipped it once more, working hard to steady my breath, trying not to let the situation get to me. But again, when I went to raise it over my head, it wouldn’t budge.

I decided to go with brute force. I lifted the skirt and yanked as hard as I could, determined to rip it to pieces if that was what it took. But as soon as the skirt was blocking my view of the room, I heard soft laughter.

And a voice.

“It doesn’t come off.”

The words were the quietest whisper, the merest hint of a voice in my ear. But through the layers of fabric I saw a shadow standing between me and the lamp.

A human-shaped shadow.

I was half naked, my arms in the air, but I didn’t move. I didn’t drop the dress.

I just stood like a lump, staring. My voice froze solid, like ice in my throat.

Finally, I whispered, “Lydia?”

Then the shadow moved, whipping around me faster than I could react, and in my struggle to catch up, to keep it where I could see it, I dropped the skirt of the dress and found myself face-to-face with my empty bedroom.

It—she?—was gone.

And something had changed.

There was another rose. It was closer to the door, which was now open a crack.

As I forced myself to calm down and not freak out—yet—I heard, coming faintly from somewhere in the room:

Vzzzzzzzzzz

I backed slowly out to the hall.