Ashes to Ashes (19 page)

“Where is Graydon?” Daddy asks him.

“It's about an hour outside Boston,” Reeve says. “In Connecticut.”

“Hm,” my dad says, but he doesn't say anything else. He leans forward and says, “A colleague of mine's son did a postgraduate year. He ended up playing a year of football at UVA before he injured his knee. Then he had to transfer because his grades weren't good enough. What are your plans, Reeve?”

My mom gives Daddy a sharp look, which he pretends not to notice. I say, “Daddy, Reeve is really smart. He broke 2100 on the SATs!”

Reeve laughs an awkward laugh. “Lillia, you don't have to talk me up like that.” To my dad he says, “I don't have any
illusions about playing in the NFL or anything. I just want to go to a great college, and football is my way in. I'd like to double major in business and communications, sir.”

That's news to me. I can tell my dad is satisfied by the answer too.

Then Reeve tells a story about how he sold seashells to tourists when he was a kid, and everyone laughs, even Nadia.

*  *  *

On the way home my mom winks at me in the rearview mirror.

I
'M WAITING IN
L
ILLIA'S BEDROOM
for her to come home from the dinner celebration with Reeve. I watched him all day from a safe distance, playing around in the pool with Lillia, saying “I love you,” trying so hard to impress her family at their special dinner.

I could have stopped it at any time. Crushed his perfect day. I wanted to so badly.

But then I thought,
Why?
Let him have it. That way it'll hurt all the worse when I take everything away. I'll be so much stronger, and way more powerful, if I wait a little longer.

Tomorrow. That's it. Tomorrow's going to be hell on earth. My day of reckoning.

I've been in Lillia's room before, but tonight I really take time to look around. Lillia has so many pretty things on her vanity. Bottles of lotion and tubes of lipstick and a pink hairbrush from France, plus a big glass jar where she keeps her hair ribbons. Her closet is like you see in a fancy boutique—stacks of cashmere sweaters, rows of blouses and skirts and dresses, everything arranged by color, from light to dark. Even though I've hardly seen Lillia wear the same outfit twice, so many of them still have the tags on. There's one dress hanging on a special puffy hanger, and it's cloaked in plastic. I know as soon as I see it that it's her prom dress.

Lillia gets everything she wants. The boy, the college acceptance letter. She has a dream life. But not tonight. I'm going to ruin her dreams tonight.

I walk toward her dresser. Her necklaces hang on a silver tree, but she also has a jewelry box. There's a picture frame with a photo of a young Lillia and Nadia riding on the same merry-go-round horse. They both have their hair in pigtails, and Lillia is hugging Nadia so tight it looks uncomfortable.

I hear the family come home. Not one but two sets of footsteps hurry up the stairs. So I dart behind the chaise.

Lillia comes in first. Her dad calls out, “Good night,
college girl!” and she calls back, “Night, Daddy!”

Nadia comes in right behind her. She flops down on Lillia's bed as Lillia unzips herself out of her dress and slips on a soft gray nightie.

Lillia carefully takes off the necklace Reeve gave her this afternoon, hangs it on the necklace tree, and then takes a seat at her vanity and asks, “So, what do you think? Did Daddy approve?” She pulls open a drawer and takes out a couple of cotton balls.

“Are you kidding?” Nadia says. “I think Daddy loved him. That Korean culture stuff, Daddy ate it up! Reeve was so smart to do that.”

Lillia smiles into the mirror. “I feel bad. I basically scared Reeve into his best behavior. I was so sure he'd do something . . . I don't know. Something that Daddy wouldn't like.”

I shake my head. Reeve knows how to charm everyone. That's part of why he's so dangerous. It can happen, even when you don't want it to. Even when you are trying your very hardest to resist. Lillia should know that better than anyone else. She's known him for years. She's seen the way he treats people. And yet she doesn't recognize it. She refuses to see his true colors.

Nadia rolls onto her stomach and watches Lillia remove her makeup. It's clear Nadia adores Lillia. After a while Nadia says, “Lilli.” She's trembling. “I'm sorry I was so terrible to you.”

Lillia turns around in her chair. “Nadi, don't even.”

But Nadia has started to cry. She smothers her face in the comforter.

Lillia immediately gets up and lies on the bed with Nadia and strokes her hair. “It's fine, okay? I understand why. You were upset. You loved Rennie a lot. We both did.”

“Still. That's not what sisters do.” She sniffles some, but it only makes the tears run harder. “And now you'll be going away to college, and I won't ever see you, and . . . and . . .” Her face wrinkles up like a baby's. “I'm going to miss you so much.”

Lillia shushes Nadia, and lies down next to her, comfy-cozy. “I'll miss you too, Nadi,” she whispers. “But I'm not going away forever! I'll come home a lot, or you can come and visit me. We'll go shopping, and eat at the food trucks. Boston's not that far away.” She reaches over to her night-stand and plucks out a tissue for Nadia. “I don't know what you're so sad about, anyway. You're going to have Phantom all to yourself now.”

Nadia laughs, but she's still sniffly. Lillia pulls her blankets up over them, reaches for her TV remote, clicks something on, and the two lie in bed together. As snug as two bugs in a rug.

Lillia falls asleep first, and Nadia nods off a few minute after. I slide up next to Lillia and place my hand on her forehead.

*  *  *

Lillia puts on her daisy bikini and walks out to their backyard pool with a drink and her towel. Nadia and her friends are there, swimming and suntanning. Lillia leans back in her lounge chair and closes her eyes, as peaceful as can be. Finally Reeve arrives in his swimming trunks.

Lillia's dreaming about today. She's trying to relive it all over again.

That's not going to happen.

There's a splash, and Lillia opens her eyes, confused. This isn't how it went. Reeve should be scooping her up, jumping into the water with her.

She looks around. Nadia and her friends are gone. And Reeve's already in the pool.

With me.

Lillia screams a bloodcurdling scream. “Mary, no!”

I've got my hand on Reeve's head, holding it below the surface. It doesn't matter that he's got the body of a Greek god. His strength is no match for me.

Her hands fly to her mouth, her eyes wide and terrified. She darts toward the pool edge, but I make the pool stretch wider with every step closer she takes, so she never makes up any ground. She can't get close to us. “Please stop!”

“You've been a crappy friend to me, Lillia. You broke our
pact, you forgot about me, and you fell in love with the one person you shouldn't have.”

She touches the necklace, her mouth agape. Then she runs to the diving board and falls onto her stomach. She's reaching out, trying desperately to get a hand on Reeve. “Mary, please! He'll drown!”

“Yes, he will. When Reeve dies tomorrow, remember that I'm the one who killed him.”

*  *  *

I lift my hand from her forehead.

See you tomorrow, Lillia.

W
HEN
I
WAKE UP,
I know that I had a bad dream, but I can't remember what it was. I'm lying in bed trying to piece it back together when Reeve calls.

“Come over,” I say, rolling onto my side.

“I'll stop by after I go work out my legs at the school pool.”

Hearing that makes me nervous. I sit up in bed. “Your leg isn't hurting, is it?” Reeve's been working out so hard these last few weeks, following the coach's plan so he'll be fully ready for the prep school's summer session.

“Don't worry. It's fine. I'm just being proactive.”

“You'd
tell me, though, right? If it was hurting you?” I wonder if I'll ever not feel guilty for what happened to Reeve on homecoming night.

“You sound like my mom,” Reeve says, laughing.

I make a
tsk
sound. “Well, we both care about you, dummy!” He's right, though. Mrs. Tabatsky and I are both on him about not pushing himself too hard. And we're both a little obsessed with Reeve's protein intake.

I know Reeve was just joking, but I'm still thinking about it an hour later, when I'm sitting in the kitchen eating cinnamon toast and fingering the necklace he gave me yesterday. No girlfriend in the world wants to be compared to her boyfriend's mother. That's the opposite of hot.

So I get an idea to surprise Reeve at the pool, for old times' sake.

If only I had a new bikini to wear. Something Reeve hasn't seen me in. Nadia's downstairs watching a movie, so I sneak into her room and go through her drawers. I find a brand-new one that she bought at the end of last season. It's a tiny triangle top and a skimpy bottom in iridescent lavender, the kind of bikini I've only ever seen girls wear in Miami. At the time, I tried to veto it, because I felt like it was a bit much for her, but she acted like I was being a prude. She clearly never wore it,
though, so she must have agreed with me deep down.

I change into it and check myself out in Nadia's mirror. I tug at the bottom so it covers a little more. It's definitely sexier than any bikini I've ever owned, but at least Reeve won't be comparing me to his mom anymore.

Many ghosts are motivated by a deep psychological issue, about which they tend to be single-minded and obsessive. Be warned that if a ghost makes him- or herself known to you and does not solicit your help, he or she likely means to do you harm.

Reeve doesn't see it coming, even though I'm there, kneeling on one of the diving platforms. Even though I got the idea from his very own dream.

He takes off his towel. After a few arm circles and knee
jumps to get warm, he hops into the water at the shallow end. He pulls a pair of swim goggles down over his eyes, sucks in a deep breath, and begins swimming a long straight lap, right toward me. I lean over the water and wait for him to come up and take a breath. His last. When he does, I'll be the final face he sees. And then we'll both be free.

To become visible a ghost must vibrate at the specific life frequency of the intended witness.

I close my eyes and use everything, every last drop of power, to set myself in sync with Reeve. A low buzz turns into the crystal-clear beat of his heart pumping him through the water in my empty shell. The in-and-out and in-and-out of his breath fills my atrophied lungs as he rotates his head from the surface to underwater. The bursts of blood coursing through his veins feel like thousands of electrical pulses waking up my numb extremities.

Reeve swims closer and closer. A few feet out from the wall, he sucks in a big last breath and takes the final stretch underwater. He starts rising back up to the surface, and I reveal myself like I read in Aunt Bette's book. We lock eyes before he hits the air. His face contorts.

Good-bye, Reeve.

I leap into the water and wrap my arms and legs around his body. Reeve flails and thrashes, but I squeeze him like a vise and sink him
down, down, down
to the dark bottom of the pool.

He's fighting me so hard, it doesn't take long for him to run out of gas. His hum quiets, quiets, quiets.

It's almost over. I'm so glad it's almost over.

And then, a shock of white before things come in flashes.

His mother's face.

Brothers throwing him up to the sky.

A hug from an old woman.

A dog snarling and snapping at his hand.

Running and sliding on wet cement.

His dad, drunk and swinging his fists.

This is Reeve's life, flashing before his eyes. And because we're in sync, I can see it along with him. Every bit of this mystery boy is unfolding for me like a movie of a billion different frames.

Baseball home run.

Hiding under a bed.

Walking into the Montessori lunchroom.

A flash of me, soaking wet on the ferry, bawling my eyes out.

Reeve running home, sobbing.

At the ferry the next day, looking for me.

Our teacher, breaking the news.

Reeve vomiting in the boys' bathroom.

Reeve inconsolable, my pocketknife in his hands.

Opening the blade, staring at it.

It's starting to hurt now. Feeling every emotion Reeve's ever felt, all at once.

At the Jar Island lighthouse. Climbing his way up to the peak.

Screaming he's sorry into the wind.

Staring over the edge.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think my death affected Reeve that way. Enough to make him do something so drastic, as drastic as I did. He did care. His skin burns in my grip, crazy hot. I fight the urge to let him go.

A park ranger grabbing him, pulling him down.

The show slows along with Reeve's heartbeat. He's dying in my arms.
Almost done
, I tell myself, because it's stinging me like fire to hold on.
Keep going. It's almost over.
The last image, brighter than bright:

Lillia Cho.

I can't bear it. I can't bear it for another second. I drop him.

*  *  *

When I open my eyes, I'm back at my house. Lying on the floor. My cheeks are wet. I'm crying.