I tossed my Pop Tart in the garbage, suddenly craving nothing besides the greasy goodness of a McDonald’s hash brown and an iced coffee. Scooping up my keys and books off the counter, I headed out the door.

  * * *

  After driving painstakingly slow to school, cautiously avoiding icy patches of road, I parked my car in the nearest spot I could find and loaded my arms up with books. I’d nearly reached the main entrance when I heard Kami call my name from behind. I paused and waited for her to catch up.

  “Hey, so it’s Friday… Do you wanna do something tonight?” she asked, her voice oozing bubbly enthusiasm. “Come on, we are so overdue for a girls’ night. Please say yes!”

  I shifted my books in my arms. “I don’t know.”

  “Come on…one night,” she continued, her bottom lip poking out slightly.

  I smiled at her attempt at pouting; she always reminded me of a big-lipped fish when she did that. A girls’ night did sound like fun, though, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had any fun. “Okay. What do you wanna do?”

  Kami stiff-armed me to a standstill. “Oh my God,” she said, her face twisting into one of complete shock. “Seriously? You’re finally ready to have some fun again?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded and forced my lips into a small smile as I tried not to grimace from her comment while reminding myself that Kami didn’t mean to sound so insensitive, she was just shocked.

  “It’s about time!” She grinned widely.

  Something shifted inside of me and my heart began to pound rapidly in my chest. Time. If I felt like I was ready to finally have some fun, did that mean the pain and grief from my mother’s loss was dissipating some? If so, then feeling like it was okay she was gone was right around the corner.

  I couldn’t let that happen. I would never allow myself to think it was okay for her to be gone.

  “We could go to the movies or we could go bowling… What do you feel like doing?” Kami asked, unaware of my frantic thoughts.

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged, wondering how I could get out of this now without hurting her feelings as we continued down the crowded hall toward my locker.

  A claustrophobic feeling permeated my anxiety-ridden thoughts. Suddenly, the hall was too narrow and filled with too many people. Kami was talking too loudly, while others’ laughter and conversations buzzed through my mind. My skin grew damp with sweat, my legs growing more wobbly beneath me with every step. A girl with dark hair bumped into me roughly as she walked with her head bent, texting while trying to avoid the teachers’ view.

  “Watch it!” Kami yelled at the girl from beside me. “Stupid Goth, I can’t stand that girl. She’s so weird.”

  I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to, because Kami started right back in with whatever plan she was forming for the night. “We could go someplace to eat, and then rent a movie and head back to my house...” she suggested, still ticking things off her fingers, oblivious to my inner turmoil.

  I touched the cold metal of my locker and spun in my combination from habit while my insides continued to twist with anxiety as I listened to Kami keep brainstorming for ideas. I knew that my mother would want me to have fun, that she wouldn’t want me to always live beneath this gray cloud that had appeared above my head since I’d found out about her accident. The thing that I didn’t know was when it would be okay to move past the gray cloud and back into the sunshine again. I hadn’t been given a guidebook on how I should feel and for how long when my mother died.

  A faint trace of her jasmine perfume tickled my nose like earlier this morning, and a cold chill swept through me as though an icy breeze had found its way down the hall. Something white landed on my shoes—a piece of paper. I bent to pick it up and read the writing typed in bold black letters:

  “Life is short. This is why we must embrace every moment for what it is and live.” — Anonymous

  “What’s that?” Kami asked, glancing over my shoulder. She rolled her eyes. “Oh, it’s another one of those inspirational quotes the teachers decided to post all over the freaking walls to ward off teen suicide or whatever.”

  I held onto it for a moment, rereading it again and again. I didn’t know why—I didn’t even know if I believed in that sort of thing—but I had the eerie feeling that I was supposed to see this, that it was a message from my mom.

  I folded the paper in half and tucked it into my notebook with a smile. Maybe this was my answer, the okay that I needed to understand it was all right to live and be happy without her. After a few deep breaths, my anxiety washed away just as quickly as it had come on.

  “Let’s go bowling,” I said as I closed my locker door.

  Kami locked her arm through mine. “I hate the shoes, but I love the game.”

  We wove our way through a group of perfume-bathed freshman girls and headed to homeroom. I sat at my designated desk, all the way in the back and directly beside Kami, feeling a hundred times lighter. Something had shifted inside of me again, but this time it was for the best. It was as if a peaceful, calming bliss had settled within me all of a sudden.

  “Did I tell you Reggie Warren texted me last night?” Kami asked, her pupils dilating at the mention of his name. He must be her latest crush. I tried to picture him, but failed. I’d have to have her point him out to me at some point today.

  “No. He did?” I asked, feigning more interest than what I actually felt at the moment. Her expression lit up and made my attempt worth it.

  I propped my head against the palm of my hand and listened to her talk about it, happy for this little taste of normalcy that I had been granted, realizing this was the beginning of my healing. This was when life began again.

  If it works, do you think I’ll remember you after? The words fluttered through my mind, said in a soft whisper. It was my voice. A remembered sentence from my dream?

  Probably, I’m sort of a hard one to forget. The boy with the glittering sapphire eyes said in a cocky tone against my ear. I struggled to remember what was said next, but it was as if my mind were frozen, unable to move forward in the dream even the tiniest bit.

  “Rowan—hello, are you in there?” Kami called, waving her hand in front of my face like a lunatic. “Mr. Moore has called your name like twice now,” she whispered, looking all embarrassed to be my friend at the moment.

  I sat up straighter. “Oh…here,” I said, glancing at an irritated Mr. Moore standing at the front of the room. My checks flamed from all the attention I was getting from my peers.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Kami asked in a hushed whisper, her eyebrows drawing together in concern.

  “Yeah.” It wasn’t a lie. I was feeling fine, but only because of the little pieces from my dream I was beginning to remember. “I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

  Who the heck was this dark-haired boy, and why was I so obsessed with remembering him? Why did he make me feel so…happy?

  Chapter 17

  My morning progressed in a normal fashion with only a handful more of the vivid clips from my dream resurfacing. They came just enough to become the only thing I could think about as my teachers droned on about things I hadn’t focused on in months. By the time lunch came, I was completely engrossed in piecing the clips together to find out what exactly the dream had been about and who the dark-haired boy that starred in it had been.

  “Oh my God, have you seen the new guy?” Kami squealed as she sat down beside me.

  I shook my head and bit into my apple. “Not yet, no.”

  “He is so freaking hot! I can’t believe you haven’t seen him yet. He’s in my second period and he sits two desks away from me!” she informed me in a voice I imagined she’d use to tell me she won the lottery. “You are going to flip when you see him.”

  “I’m sure I will.” I smiled, doubtful, and took another bite of my apple. I’d never been as boy crazy as Kami, but I had missed this normalcy.

  * * *

  Lunch ended too soon, forcing me to leave the glowing sunshine of Kami’s aura once more and head to third period. The tardy bell rang just as I plopped down in my seat. I shift my eyes to the front of the room, ready for Mr. Sandberg to begin his nasally sounding roll call. That was when I noticed him—a dark-haired boy with a creamy complexion. He’d slipped into the room just after the bell. He stood beside Mr. Sandberg with his hands shoved deeply into his front pockets and his head lowered.

  This must be the new guy. As much as I hated to admit it, Kami had been right—he was gorgeous.

  He glanced up almost as though he could feel my eyes on him and met my stare. The hint of a smile twisted a corner of his lips, and I felt my heart flutter against my chest at the sight of it. Dark hair. Sapphire eyes. The words burned through layers of my memory, through each clip of the dream I’d remembered from last night…until coming to rest on one memory in particular. The memory seemed so real, but couldn’t be because it had never happened. It was something that surely was part of my dream. It had to be.

  A complete stranger, who couldn’t have been much older than myself, stood beside a paramedic who knelt at the head of someone lying on the road. The expression on the stranger’s face was one of utter calmness as he gazed down at the mangled, bloody face of the guy on the ground. No one seemed to notice him, this stranger, but me, and the more I stared at him, the more I noticed how incredibly out of place he seemed.

  He was dressed in black and I stared, captivated by him, as he bent down in one fluid motion. I watched as he extended his arm and touched his middle finger to the dying guy’s forehead. Something happened and in the next instant, I witnessed the dying guy’s soul step out of his body to stand beside the dark-haired boy.

  This boy standing beside Mr. Sandberg was the dark-haired boy from my strange memory—he was the boy from my dream. I knew him, I didn’t know how, but I knew my soul remembered him from someplace. The dizzying sensation of déjà vu flooded my senses.

  “Class, this is Jet Mathews. I hope you all can make him feel welcome,” Mr. Sandberg said, talking through his nose as always.

  Jet—I knew that name. I remembered those eyes…that face. How I knew him was on the tip of my tongue. It was just beyond my reach in my mind. Right there.

  I watched Jet closely as he sauntered from the front of the classroom to the back where I sat, captivated by everything about him as he made his way to the empty desk beside me. My eyes locked directly with his as he grew closer. My mind raced almost as fast as my heart. I couldn’t know him; he’d obviously just moved here.

  I gripped the edge of my desk, confused by the cascade of emotions that poured through me from his presence. Jet’s eyes remained as fixated on me as mine were on him. The closer he got to me, the more I noticed how intense the shade of blue his eyes was. His mouth curved into a smile, I’m sure due to my weirdness in the moment, and I forced myself to look away. I was being creepy. I knew this, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Class, open your textbooks to page number 279,” Mr. Sandberg said from the front of the room. “Mr. Mathews, you can share with Miss Harper for today. I’ll have a book for you tomorrow.”

  My heart jumped to my throat. Jet began scooting his desk closer to mine, and I thought I might faint from his sudden nearness.

  “I think he said to turn to page 279,” Jet said, his voice even more hypnotic than in my dream.

  I hesitated in reaching out to turn the pages of my book, still overcharged by all that was taking place, unable to process how this was even possible. Jet laughed and reached out for the cover of my book at the same time I did. His hand gently brushed against mine by accident and that was all it took, mere contact, for my mind to become flooded with more memories. Actual memories of the two of us, at least I thought they were.

  “You remember me,” he whispered against my ear. “I hoped you would.”

  I blinked and turned to glance at him, my heart pounding rapidly. “How,” I whispered, breathless. “It was just dream… Wasn’t it?”

  He shook his head slightly and smirked. “Not at all.”

  I stared into his eyes and the memory of the last time I’d seen him played through my mind—how my living room had changed into a wooded area with a flowing river—the scene of Jet’s murder. My breath hitched. “It was him in Purgatory, wasn’t it? The one who beat you.” The words sounded strangled as they fell from my lips. I knew what I was saying was true, that it had actually happened, but a part of my mind was still hung up on how it was possible.

  Jet’s eyes flashed at my words. “Yes.”

  “What happened? How are you here now?” I asked, my voice just above a whisper.

  Jet smiled the same cocky smile from in my memories, the one I’d always loved. “I forgave him and he offered to take my place. It was an even trade and I was given a rewind, too.”

  Staring into his jewel-colored eyes, I was reminded of our spot on the beach and a conversation that seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “But I can tell you this, you will always be with me, Rowan, always—right here.” He pulled away and drew my hand up to cover his heart. There was no heart beating rapidly beneath my palm, but I knew exactly what he meant—I would always be weaved within the threads of his soul.

  I could say the same about him.

  “Good, because that’s right where I always want to be.”

  And it was still true.

  * * *

  ~ The End ~

  A Special Short

  I hope you enjoyed reading Hereafter. Now, please read on for a bonus short story from Jet’s perspective!

  Choice

  A Reaper Novella Short

  I felt my entire life unraveling around the edges as I stared into Celeste’s steel-gray eyes.

  “Jet, did you hear me?” she asked, her eyebrows drawn together in concern.

  I blinked. “Yeah, I heard you.”

  I’d heard her loud and clear. She’d just confessed she was pregnant and all I could do was gape at her.

  “I told my parents,” she said, sending another jolt of shock reverberating through my body. “They’ve already called the clinic and scheduled an appointment for an abortion.” Her gaze never met mine as she spoke, instead it remained fixated on her thumb ring, which she continued to spin nervously.

  “Don’t I get a say in any of this? Or even my parents?” I knew how selfish I sounded, but didn’t care.

  Celeste’s eyes met mine again, and I knew I’d never forget the hurt and anger that pooled within them for as long as I lived.

  “They told me I can’t see you anymore,” she whispered.

  My heart dropped to my stomach and my fists clenched at my sides. “Y…you told them no though, right?” I stuttered.

  She didn’t answer, she merely continued to stare at her twirling thumb ring.

  “Celeste, please tell me you stood up to them,” I pleaded, reaching for her arm.

  “Don’t, okay, don’t make this any harder than it already is,” she muttered, jerking her arm out of my grasp. “You know I can’t tell them no, not with something as serious as this.”

  “Yes, you can,” I scoffed. “In four more months we’ll both be eighteen!”

  Tears swelled in her gray eyes and she sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does to me,” I said. “This is our baby… our life…” The words fumbled from my lips, sounding oddly strangled and broken.

  The back of the condom box had been right—apparently they weren’t effective 100% of the time.

  “I don’t want it,” Celeste said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want any of this!”

  She rushed past me, before I had time to think of a reply, leaving me feeling gutted by her words.

  I let out a loud breath and intertwined my fingers behind my head. What a way to begin spring break.

  Celeste didn’t return my calls or text messages for the next two days. By the time day three rolled around, I did receive a text saying she wanted to let me know the appointment was at two o’clock that afternoon and no, I wasn’t allowed to come.

  I slipped out of bed an hour later and stood in front of my bedroom window, glaring out at a picture-perfect spring day and hating it. Three crows had congregated in my front yard and my eyes zeroed in on them, focusing on the only blackness I could find. I felt like I was drowning in my own twisted emotions and raging thoughts that never seemed to clear from my head.

  A silver Toyota 4Runner squealed tires into my driveway, forcing the crows to scatter into flight and grabbing my attention. I knew who it was even before they’d parked—Travis and Wade, my two best buds. Also, the only two people I’d told the truth about my breakup with Celeste. I hadn’t even told my parents. There was no reason. At two o’clock today it would be like nothing had ever happened, no matter what anyone said.

  “Jet, come out here with your hands up or else we’re comin’ in to get you!” Travis shouted, slamming against the hood of his 4Runner with his palm.

  I cracked a grin, but it faded as guilt swelled within my chest. I shouldn’t be smiling, not when my life was about to be stamped with a horrible memory of something I was powerless to stop.

  “Jet Mathews, we repeat, come out with your hands up!” Wade demanded.

  “What’s up, guys?” I asked, leaning my elbows against the sill of my opened window.

  “We’re here to rescue you!” Wade yelled.

  “Rescue me from what?”

  “Your horrible spring break!” Travis answered.

 

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