Lila glanced over my shoulder. I followed her gaze to see Luke staring at us intently. She continued, “I don’t know. She called me last night, but I was out with Stephen.”
At that exact moment both of our phones chirped to notify us of a text message. We simultaneously pulled them out and I sucked in a breath as I read the message from Echo: I’m across the street.
Thank you, baby, for those four beautiful words. I turned on my heel and mumbled to Lila, “Let’s go.”
I hesitated when Lila continued to stare at her phone. “She needs me,” she said and her phone chirped again. “But she says it’s okay if I don’t come.” A war of emotions played over her face. “I have a test next period and …”
“You don’t skip.”
She smoothed her hair. “Look, she keeps telling me that you’re this great guy. Do you think you could wow me and keep my best friend together until I can take over after school?”
I could do one better. I could take care of her now and after school. “Yeah.”
“Tell her I love her, okay?” said Lila. “And I’ll be right there as soon as I can.”
“Yeah.” This girl really did care about Echo. “I can do that.”
WITH THE WINDOWS OPEN, ECHO sat in the driver’s side of the gray Honda Civic her father had bought her to replace the Dodge Neon. I slid my car next to hers. As I was about to cut my engine, she turned hers on. She stared at me as I rolled down my window.
“I want to go someplace,” she said, “but I don’t want to go alone. I’m sorry I asked you to skip.”
I wasn’t sorry. “I’ll drive you anywhere you want to go, baby.”
I hoped for a smile, but instead she shook her head. Whatever happened yesterday had to be big. “Will you follow me? I kinda need a few more minutes to myself.”
“Whatever you need.” Even though I craved to be breathing the same air as her.
“Noah?” she said before I rolled my window up. “Thanks for skipping for me.” And finally, she smiled. It wasn’t huge or full of joy, but still it was there.
“Anything for you.”
MOM LOVED DAYS LIKE THIS: spring warmth with those big fluffy white clouds against a royal-blue sky.
I hated this place, no matter the weather. Resthaven would always be that gray, rainy, muggy day in June, with my brothers and me standing under a half-assed thrown-together tent. Tyler strangled my neck, crying for Mom, and Jacob asked if Mom and Dad were going to get wet, explaining to me over and over again that Mom hated getting wet. She allowed no splashing in the bathtub. Dad was in a suit and Dad would be upset if it got wet.
For the first time in my life, I’d wanted to die. I wished I had been asleep in my bed and died right alongside my parents, but then if I’d been home, it never would have happened.
My guilt was a yoke around my neck. My burden to handle. And when I graduated, I’d make it right. I’d put my family back together again.
I parked behind Echo in the east garden, under the towering oak trees. Echo had caught the traffic light entering this place and I hadn’t, giving her a head start. She sat cross-legged in the middle of the cemetery section, resting her head on her joined hands, staring at a white marble tombstone. Her red curls moved with the gentle breeze and the sun shined directly on her—an angel right in the middle of hell.
She never took her eyes off the tombstone. “Thanks for doing this, Noah. I know being here is hard for you, too.”
Hard was an understatement, but it only showed how much I cared for her. “Do you think Mrs. Collins will blame me for your sudden urge to cut school?”
Echo opened her mouth to answer, but exhaled instead. I’d said it to lighten her mood, but she was too deep to see daylight.
I sat beside her. Unable to stop myself, I raked my hand through the curls flowing down her back. Touching her in this moment was a necessity. I liked the tombstone’s simplicity: Aires Owen Emerson: son, brother, Marine.
“What did you remember?”
She rubbed her chin against her clasped hands. “He left me there. At my mother’s. I called and he didn’t answer. He … um … didn’t.” Echo lowered her head.
I continued to comb through her silky hair and listened to the birds calling out to one another. Her shoulders never shook. No tears streamed down her face. The worst type of crying wasn’t the kind everyone could see—the wailing on street corners, the tearing at clothes. No, the worst kind happened when your soul wept and no matter what you did, there was no way to comfort it. A section withered and became a scar on the part of your soul that survived. For people like me and Echo, our souls contained more scar tissue than life.
She picked at the blades of grass. “I’m alone now. Aires is dead. Mom is God knows where. My friends … well … you know. Dad was a long shot, but I pretended I had him. I tried to become the daughter he wanted to love, but …” Echo shook her head. “It sucks to be alone.”
“Come here, baby.” And with my words, Echo leaned into me: soft, pliant, broken. “You’re not alone,” I whispered into her hair as I cradled her in my arms. “You’re not alone, because you have me.” And I love you, more than you could ever know.
Echo
Noah offered to call in to work so we could spend the evening together. A huge part of me hoped he would. I wanted to stay in his arms for the rest of my life. Because of that, it took every ounce of self-control to not jump on his offer. I knew he needed the money. Besides, Lila began texting me every two seconds the moment school let out.
“Your dad called my mom looking for you,” Lila said from my right. “She told him you were here.”
We sat on the massively wide stairs of her back deck, overlooking the field behind her house. Wind chimes tinkled with the gentle breeze and the sun kissed my bare arms. “Is he coming to get me?” He had to know I’d skipped school.