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  “Nothing that was really important,” I said. I followed Amelia’s line of sight, my eyes falling on Owen, who had his back to us. I sighed. “He confuses the hell out of me.”

  “I honestly don’t know what you guys have going on between you.”

  “Nothing is going on with us,” I snapped, looking back at her.

  “Uh-huh,” she laughed. “There is definitely something going on with the two of you.”

  I heard Callen’s laugh as they approached the table, and I shushed Amelia to be quiet. He sat in the chair across from Amelia, which meant only one thing. There was one seat left for Owen to sit in, and it happened to be right across from me.

  “I didn’t know what you like to drink,” Owen said. Slowly, I turned to face him, and saw the glass sitting in front of me. “So I got you a little bit of everything.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked, completely grossed out by the thought.

  Everyone except for me laughed around the table. I glanced down at the drink, my stomach flipping at the general idea of it. He couldn’t be serious, could he?

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never done that?” he asked. I shot him a glance and raised an eyebrow. He stared at me intently, a smirk playing across his lips. “Where I’m from it’s called a graveyard, and it’s actually really good if you know how much of each soda to put in it.”

  “Are you from Tartarus?” I asked.

  His eyes widened, and he stared at me with a blank expression. He tilted his head to the side, as if he were studying me and trying to figure out if I was the one joking now.

  “You mean the Tardis, right?”

  “No, I’m talking about the Greek underworld, Tartarus,” I replied. “You know, the place where Hades lives. Pretty sure, Dr. Who has never been there.”

  He shook his head slightly and said, “I’m not sure where you’re going with this.”

  “Well, you called it a graveyard, and Tartarus is where souls go after death,” I explained.

  “I thought Tartarus is where Zeus kept the Titans and Kronos after they were defeated, and where the most wicked souls were sent,” he said. I picked up the drink, swallowed a big gulp without stopping to think about it. “The fields of Asphodel is where the ordinary souls lived. Then you had Elysium, the home to heroes. If they were reborn three times and achieved Elysium each time they died, they’d move onto the Isles of the Blessed. Basically, Hades oversees all of this. So technically, the better question is ‘Are you from the underworld?’ and not ‘Are you from Tartarus?’”

  I didn’t know what to think of this. How did he know all that? I took another drink from the cup, this time paying more attention to what I was doing, and what the drink actually tasted like. “This is a Coke,” I said, setting the glass down.

  Owen laughed softly.

  “Okay, then,” Callen said, laughing uncomfortably.

  I kept my eyes locked onto Owen’s. “If you knew all that, then why the Dr. Who reference?” I asked.

  “Gotta keep a girl guessing.” He smirked. “Can’t let ’em know that I’m this good-looking and have the brains too. It’s bound to give a girl a heart attack.”

  I bit back laughter. I didn’t think I had ever met anyone as conceited as Owen, and I wasn’t about to feed into his ego. I took another sip of my soda, and shifted my focus to my friends. I kept relatively quiet as Callen and Amelia talked a little about their classes, and then the pizza arrived.

  “So, Owen,” Callen said, chewing up a piece of pepperoni he picked off the pizza, “I’m surprised to even see you back here this year after what happened. And living in the dorms no less.”

  I almost choked on my pizza. Everyone looked at me, and I took a gulp of my drink to help the bite slide down my throat. I kept my gaze on Callen, but glanced to Owen out of the corner of my eye. He set his slice of pizza down on his plate, and shifted in his chair uncomfortably.

  “Yeah, uh,” Owen’s voice was thick. There was something else in it—heartbreak? I wasn’t sure. “Well, life happens, and then it goes on. Why wouldn’t I come back to school?”

  Callen turned in his seat so he was directly facing Owen. “Life doesn’t just happen like that,” he said, his voice was soft and full of sympathy. “It was a tragic incident, someone you cared about d—”

  “We’re not talking about this,” Owen snapped. He pushed back his chair, it banged against the floor, and he stormed out the restaurant.

  My mouth hung slightly open as I stared at the door. Was Callen about to say that someone had died? Someone that Owen cared about? A brother? Sister? His mom or dad? I couldn’t say, but I knew without a shadow of a doubt, someone had died.

  “What the hell was that about?” Amelia said to Callen crossly.

  “I shouldn’t have said anything,” he whispered.

  “What happened?” My voice squeaked.

  “It’s not my place to share,” he answered. He dropped his eyes to the table and cleared his throat. “All I know, is he hasn’t been the same since.”

  The table fell silent and we continued eating, none of us breathing a word. The sound of the rain beating against the roof of the building thrummed in my ears. I stared out the window, watching the outside world drown. I couldn’t get the thought of Owen losing someone out of my head. The very idea of it threatened to bring my own loss to the surface. The next thing I knew, I felt like I was being sucked into a time warp, taking me back ten months ago. My friends were fading away, and Reagan appeared in the seat across from me . . .

  ***

  “Bren, did you hear me?” Reagan said. I snapped my head from the window and turned to her. I smiled. The new year was almost here, and she’d put chunks of bright purple in her hair. She really wanted to start the year off with a bang, but somehow I wasn’t shocked when I saw her walk into the pizza parlor. Reagan was always doing one thing or another to her hair, but no matter what she did, it always looked amazing. “So, Ronnie is having a New Year’s Eve party at his parents’ lake house tonight,” she said. “Wanna go?”

  I stared into her mocha-colored eyes.

  “I’m not sure, Rae,” I answered. “It’s been raining really bad. The roads out there are gonna be rough. Throw drinking into the mix and it’s an accident waiting to happen.”

  She took a sip of her water. “Relax,” she said. She picked a slice of pepperoni off our pizza and popped it into her mouth. “I’ll only have one drink when we first get there and then stop at that. We’ll leave after midnight.” I raised an eyebrow. “It’ll be out of my system by the time we’re ready to leave.”

  “I don’t have a problem being the DD tonight,” I said.

  “No, you need to let loose.” She cut me off. “You’re always the DD. It’s time you had some fun.”

  ***

  I snapped out of the memory. My body was shaking, my eyes were wet, and my throat was thick. If only I’d known then what was going to happen that night, I would’ve stood my ground. I would’ve told Reagan no, and we would’ve stayed in, and she’d still be here. A soft sob escaped from my lips.

  I felt Callen and Amelia staring at me. I started to rub my locket, trying to will the pain and memories away. I squeezed my eyes shut, rubbed harder . . . faster . . . but it wasn’t working. My chest was tight, I was struggling to breath, and it felt like my lungs were about to collapse on me.

  A hand softly touched my arm, and I saw Amelia through my tear-blurred eyes. “Brennan?” she said softly.

  The sound of her voice pulled me from the agonizing trance. I looked around the restaurant, realizing that I was here, in Eugene, and not back in Lake Forest Park. I jumped out of my chair, clutching my necklace with one hand and wiping away my tears with the other. Without a word, I bolted out the doors.

  The rain completely soaked me within seconds, angry drops stinging my face like swarms of hornets. A gust of wind picked up and nearly blew me over, but I kept going, kept running as fast as I could. The saltiness of my tears mixed with t
he raindrops as they hit my lips, and I ran all the way back to the dorm.

  Not wanting to wait for the elevator, I took the stairs two at a time. By the time I reached my door, my fingers were already numb. I heard the door open behind me, glanced over my shoulder, and connected my eyes with Owen’s.

  “Brennan,” he said, stepping toward me, “are you . . . okay?”

  I pushed open my door, falling inside. I quickly slammed the door behind me and locked it. I crossed the room and grabbed a small cardboard box that I knew held what I was looking for. I started digging through it when a loud pounding on the door made me jump.

  I knew who was on the other side. “I’m fine, Owen!” I shouted.

  My fingers grasped the smooth, leather bound book that I had been searching for. Another booming sound raked across the door, but I ignored it. I ran my fingers along the spine of the photo album, stopping my hand on the photo sitting square in the middle of it—a portrait of Reagan. Her mocha-colored eyes popped against the tan material surrounding it, her smile reached the corners of her eyes, and her brilliant white teeth sat in a perfect row. I clutched the book to my chest, took a deep breath, and moved to my bed. I laid my head on my pillow, bent my knees, and propped the album against my legs.

  Several knocks banged against the door, and I pretended that they weren’t happening. I pulled in air, filling my lungs, and released it slowly. I flipped open the cover, my heart dropping to the pit of my stomach as I stared at the page full of photos before me. The first one was of the two of us lying on top of Reagan’s bed. A bag of red licorice sat between us and pink slippers adorned our feet, our hair was messily assembled on the top of our heads. Reagan had a piece of candy hanging out of her mouth, and I was peeking over the top of the Seventeen magazine in my hands.

  We were thirteen.

  I poured over photo after photo, each one capturing different moments in our lives like pieces of history, reminders of the friendship we shared. I came to a picture of Reagan from when we were around sixteen, her hands resting on my shoulders. Her head was thrown back, the picture freezing her in midlaugh, and she popped her right foot into the air. My eyes were pointed up to the ceiling, feigning annoyance. I could still hear the sweet melodic sound of her laugh. It was fading with each passing day, growing dimmer, but right now, it was like she was right there with me.

  Tears streamed down my face. Despite how tight I squeezed my eyes, they still managed to fall down my cheeks, an endless sign of my sadness. I wiped them away and continued to thumb through the book. Halfway through, the door suddenly burst open, and I wasn’t alone anymore. I slammed the album shut and shoved it under my pillow, wiping the last of the tears from eyes.

  Owen, Callen, and Amelia hovered around the door, glancing at each other before shifting their focus on me. I sat up and cleared my throat. They stood there, watching, waiting, for me to say something. I took time to meet each of their gazes, not holding one for too long before moving to the next.

  “So . . .” Amelia said, the first to break the heavy silence. “Want to tell us what that was all about?”

  “I, uh,” I stuttered. I took a deep breath, unsure of what to say. “I thought I saw—” I stopped myself, leaving my words to hang in the air. “You know what, it was nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Bren—”

  “Don’t even,” Owen said, cutting her off. His voice was rough. “I don’t know what happened with these two after I left. All I know is I come walking out of my room, saw you drenching wet with tears staining your face, and you practically trying to claw your way into your room. Then you slammed the door in my face, locked it, and left me to bang on the door like I was some madman trying to kill you. Now explain what that was that all about.”

  “First of all,” I said, placing my feet on the floor and standing up. “I don’t have to answer to you. In fact, you can help yourself out the door.” Owen narrowed his eyes but didn’t move. I looked to Callen and Amelia. “Everything is fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Callen rubbed the back of his neck, casting his eyes to the floor. Amelia stared at me, silently begging me to explain what happened. “Seriously,” I said. “I’m fine. Nothing to see here, okay? Now you two—” I said, looking at the boys, “—need to go so I can change out of these wet clothes.”

  When neither of them moved, Amelia took a step forward, and turned to face them. “You heard the lady, run along,” she said, shooing them away.

  Callen was torn. He glanced at me, shook his head slightly, and stayed rooted. Owen, well, he wasn’t a happy camper. He took slow, shallow breaths, and I could see he was fighting some internal battle.

  “Go,” Amelia whispered. “I’ll text the two of you later.”

  The room fell quiet. Outside the room, I could hear a group of guys hollering about something. I started to chew on my nail, looking everywhere around the room except for the three sets of eyes I knew were watching me. Callen was the first to leave, hesitating at the door for a few seconds before disappearing down the hall. Owen left a few seconds afterwards, slamming the door behind him hard enough that the door frame shook.

  “Sit,” Amelia snapped. “Now.”

  For whatever reason, I did as she commanded, and sat back down on my bed. She took her normal perch on the floor in front me. Eager eyes stared into mine.

  “I’m fine,” I reiterated.

  “I don’t know what the hell happened, but whatever it was, was not okay.” She sighed. “Brennan, you started crying out of nowhere, and then took off down the street in a downpour. Tell me, where in that do you get that you’re fine?”

  “Just leave it alone, Rae—I mean, Amelia.” My chest tightened. I started to rub the locket and hoped she didn’t catch my slipup. I couldn’t believe I almost called her Reagan. What the hell is wrong with me? I was tired, cold, and didn’t want to talk about this right now. Actually, I didn’t want to talk about it ever. I stood up, walked around Amelia, and started to strip out of my soaked clothes. Once I changed into a pair of sweats and my father’s shirt, I climbed back on my bed and laid down. I reached under the pillow, resting my hand against the cool leather book, and sighed. “I’m going to take a nap.”

  Amelia didn’t say anything. I rolled over to my side, facing the wall, and listened to the sound of the rainfall outside. I wasn’t pulled back into the memory again, but I was certainly thinking about it. My head ached with the thoughts churning in it. I let out a silent sob as the first tear slid down my nose, stopping at the tip for a moment before falling onto my pillow. I gripped the book under the pillow and the locket with my other hand.

  Eventually, I heard Amelia rise from the floor, and climb onto her bed. Guilt washed over me like a tidal wave. I didn’t want to shut her out. Deep down, I wanted to tell her—all of them—what I was going through. I wanted to explain that sometimes I had breakdowns. Some were worse than others—like the one I was having now, and all I wanted to do was lie in bed and torture myself.

  I wanted to let them know that I was broken. And that sometimes, more often than not, I pushed away anyone who tried to get close. But I couldn’t tell them that. If I did, then I’d have to tell them everything, and I wasn’t ready for that. I’d never be ready for that.

  No matter how hard people pushed, no matter how many barriers they might break through, I’d never be able to fully let someone in again. I’d never be able to accept the fact that it was okay to move on and be happy. When I lost Reagan, I lost a huge part of myself, a part that I’d never get back, and it left a gaping hole in my soul. And now, I feel hollowed out, like I was just going through the motions each day and fooling myself into believing that I could pull this off, fooling myself into believing that I’m someone I’m not.

  I closed my hand tightly around the gold locket hanging from my neck, and then I closed my eyes, trying to think of anything other than Reagan, but I couldn’t. Her image was right there, burning in my mind like a flare in
the night. I remembered the sound of tires squealing, the thunderous impact when the car hit the water, and feeling frantic. The memory consumed me. Then the same pitch-black thought crossed my mind, the one that always did when I was pulled back to that fateful night: this was my punishment for living. I shouldn’t have been able to walk away that night, and in some ways, I didn’t. Physically, I was fine. But mentally . . .  I was never the same after that.

  I took slow and steady breaths—in through the mouth, out the nose. I shifted my focus to kittens—soft, fluffy, adorable kittens. Something that wouldn’t lead me back to the memory I tried—but failed—to suppress. It took a few minutes, but the technique started to work. My body relaxed as visions of tiny furry animals flooded my mind. Eventually, my breathing calmed, and I drifted off to the sound of Amelia vigorously texting on her phone.

  EIGHT

  WHEN I WOKE UP later that night, my room was empty. My head felt like someone had taken an aluminum bat to it. I was completely drained, and wanted to do nothing but sleep.

  I sat up on my bed, glanced at the clock, and saw that it was almost four in the morning. It was eerily quiet. Amelia’s clock was glowing softly, but there was no trace of her. Clothes were strewn about the room, pairs of heels laying along the floor, and makeup prints all over our mirror. It was a disaster.

  I pushed myself out of the bed and started to pick up. We’d have to set some ground rules, because there was no way I could keep living like this. I wasn’t a clean freak, but I certainly didn’t like disorganization. I started to gather miscellaneous articles of clothes and tossed them into the hamper. Once I was done, I started organizing my things.

  I hung my clothes, lined study supplies along the backside of my desk, put knickknacks away in the drawers, and put all my makeup inside the basket I got for it. As a finishing touch, I arranged my family photos in the center of the dresser. There were only a few: one of all of us taken over the summer, a couple of my brothers and I, and one of my father and me. But there wasn’t a photo of my best friend. No, there was only one place her photo belonged—and that was around my neck.