He flinches like my words slapped him. “No, I don’t know! Harper, don’t you get it? I don’t want to know. Not now and not ever.” The floor creaks under his weight when he paces to the other side of his room, to the window, and back toward the door like the walls are a prison he can’t escape. He finally turns away from me, pressing his forehead against the wall. I want to do something for him, but I’m afraid to move. Like he’ll suddenly remember I’m here and tell me to leave. “I’ve never wanted to know anything, because then I would have to live with it,” he says.
Kale turns around and leans against the wall, keeping an invisible barrier between us. “Sometimes it’s better not knowing.”
“But if you knew, you could—”
“—I could what?” he says, cutting me off. “Stop it from happening? Don’t you remember what I told you, about the past being the past? It can’t be undone, Harper.” His chest rises and falls a few times before he says, “Whatever it is, it’s going to happen.”
I’m trying so hard to hold back everything inside that wants to spill out, but I can’t. A tear runs down my cheek, followed by another. “You don’t want to know, then?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry I looked, but I couldn’t not. Not while knowing where you’ve been and where you’ll be going back to.” I swipe at my cheek, willing them to stay dry. “I hate the thought of you in that place. I’m sorry,” I say again.
“Don’t—” Kale shakes his head and closes his eyes, fighting back something more. “I’ve had to do everything to hold myself back from doing what you did.” He pushes away from the wall and sits next to me. I feel better when he’s here, within reach. Like it’s possible to keep him here forever. “It’s like knowing a storm is coming, but not knowing when or how bad it’ll be. But I know it’s coming one way or the other—I always have. I just don’t think about it, because I can’t bear it.”
“How long have you known?” I ask.
He gives me a pained look. “It’s war, Harp. I’ve been thinking about it a long time now, and there’s no way I’m coming out of it the same way I went in. I’m not that lucky.”
I can’t say anything, because I can’t lie.
Kale might not want to know the whole truth, but he already knows something is going to happen. I can’t imagine how hard it is—knowing something is coming without the power to prevent it.
“But why don’t you want to know?” I whisper.
Today, even when the sun lights up his room through his broken blinds, nothing can make his eyes bright. “It’s easier to pretend than be afraid of the truth.”
Kale looks at me for the longest moment, enough for me to see everything; the pain he’s been though, the lingering fears, the self-doubt. Maybe it is easier to pretend, because I can’t bear the thought of him not coming back.
I don’t know what compels me to do it, but I kiss him. His skin is cold and smells of snow, lips made of melting ice. This is the Kale I can’t let go of. Not now and not ever.
I pull myself away from him and stand up.
“Wait—” Kale slips his hand around mine, his thumbs gently touching my wrist. “Can you stay for a little while? I just … I don’t want to be alone right now.”
Kale lets go of my hand and lays down on his back. With my heart kicking a little more than usual, I give him my answer by slipping off my shoes. I’ve never been in Kale’s bed before, at least not like this. Not with him already in it.
“Harper, you’re overthinking things,” he says, knowing me too well. “Just come here.”
He takes my hand again and draws me in, leaving no space between us. I rest my head on the side of his chest, my hand over his heart. It pounds a steady rhythm under my fingers, and his arm wraps around me, keeping me close.
Kale has never held me like this, and it’s something I wished we could have done sooner. Not now when our time suddenly has an end. Life is playing a cruel joke on us, one I wish never has to become reality.
“Kale?” I’m not sure if he’s even awake; he’s been quiet for so long.
“Hmm?”
“What will the date be, when you go back?” I try to sound curious, not at all like I need to know. Kale is in a state right before falling asleep, and I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t remember me asking.
“Um … I don’t know.” I don’t pry; just wait, hoping he’ll answer. “It’s about to be the new year.”
“1945?”
“Yeah.”
Kale takes one last real breath before falling asleep. I don’t want to think about the past right now, or what will happen when this perfect moment is over. All I want to do is sleep next to the boy who has always kept his promise.
But if the past is true, he dies on January 8.
35.
Kale
I’m cold when I wake.
Harper is no longer lying next to me, and the light coming through the window is dull. I sit up and blink my eyes awake, ridding myself of the dreams I had. Even with her sleeping next to me, they still came, but … they weren’t as bad.
Harper sits on the edge of my bed, pulling on her shoes.
“Trying to sneak out without waking me?” I ask, trying to make it sound like a joke.
Harper doesn’t smile. “I should go home. Uncle Jasper will be wondering where I am and your dad will be home from work soon. I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready to be caught—”
“Doing what? Taking a nap?” Still, she doesn’t smile. I lean in closer and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Harper, look at me.”
She does. Barely. This is a side of Harper I’ve never seen—not even when she thinks about her mom or Aunt Holly. At least then she tries to smile and only focuses on the good. Being the optimist she is.
Something is wrong.
More wrong than I first thought.
I almost ask her to tell me what she knows. The temptation is so strong.
“This is where you tell me everything will be okay,” she says.
“Will you believe me if I do?”
“I don’t know if I can. But I want to.” Harper presses her lips together, willing herself to stay calm. She used to do it all the time when we were kids. She’s always been so easy for me to read. “I don’t know what I expected when I came over here,” she says. “Maybe I was thinking that once I told you, it wouldn’t be true. Like I could prevent it from happening. It’s stupid, I know.” She sniffs once and looks away. “Like you said, there’s nothing to be done.”
I can’t take this another minute. It’s like watching a movie and knowing exactly where the end is heading, but then you have to stop watching and you never get the chance to see it for yourself.
I know what’s coming, and I’ve been trying to ignore it.
But I can’t anymore.
“I die … don’t I.” I don’t bother phrasing it as a question. There’s no doubt with her acting this way. “Is that what you read?”
Harper nods silently, still turned away.
I can’t pretend anymore. This is why I didn’t want to know.
There’s a hole burning through my heart. The things I’ve done to make things right—with Dad and Harper, talking about me having a future—all of it was for nothing. All of it. It was all shit to fill in the place of false hope.
What was the point of anything if I am to die?
“You should go,” I hear myself say.
“What?”
I don’t look up.
I need Harper to leave, and I can’t do that if I look at her again. “Please just go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Kale—”