Would Varen be there?
Isobel tightened her hold on the paper.
In the past, Varen had been able to astral project, to appear or even be invisible in places other than wherever his body slept. The first time he’d done so had been the day of their presentation for the Poe project. Halloween. Though everyone had been able to see and hear him then, he’d vanished after leaving class.
Did Varen still hold the power to project into this world? If he did, and if he somehow knew about Bruce’s death, if he came to the funeral and saw her there—saw that after everything, she still—
“Yes,” Isobel said, before she could stop herself.
Gwen’s face fell.
“I mean, no,” Isobel corrected, “I don’t want you to leave, but yes, I change my mind. I want to go . . . to the funeral. Please.”
Gwen’s expression softened. “Meet me by the door next to the gym right after second period. The one behind the stairs. No one’s over there that early.”
Turning, Gwen began to walk away.
Through the cafeteria windows, Isobel saw Mikey using a rag to wipe away the smudge marks he’d made on the glass while Mr. Nott stood to one side, hands on hips.
“Wait,” Isobel called after her. “What about your arm? I thought you couldn’t drive.”
Gwen stopped and spun to face her again. With her good hand, she pinched the fabric of her sling at the elbow and, straightening her fractured arm, wiggled her fingers.
“Drove myself here every morning this week,” she said, winking. “Arm’s good. I’m just milking it.”
With that, Gwen nestled her elbow back into its cradle, whirled, and hurried to the cafeteria, skirt swishing.
Dropping the rag, Mikey scuttled to meet Gwen as she entered through the glass doors. They shared a kiss, and Isobel felt her insides ice over again.
She turned her back on the scene, folded her arms, and shivered against the cold.
Now that she was alone, Isobel’s momentary hope of seeing Varen began to dim and fade.
Since her return from Baltimore, she had neither dreamed of him during the nights, nor seen him—or anything from the other side—during her waking hours. Not even through the mirrors that had once acted as windows between worlds.
Perhaps, she consoled herself, it would be best to think of attending Bruce’s funeral as a way to move on. To bury not just a man, but the memories that surrounded him.
Her way of saying good-bye to Varen, instead of writing him notes he’d never read.
Her turn to let go.
She thought she could do that if she didn’t see him.
And maybe . . . maybe even if she did.
2
Missing Pieces
Isobel wasn’t allowed to catch a ride home from school with Gwen anymore—or with anyone, for that matter. Taking the bus was out of the question, but her father no longer picked her up either.
That task now fell to her mother.
Every afternoon Isobel met her mom in front of the school and climbed into the rear seat of the car as it idled in the line of waiting vehicles.
Muttering a quick “Hey,” she would then fork over her cell phone, which she wouldn’t see until the following morning when her mom dropped her off again.
The only day her mother did not drive her straight home was Thursday, and although Isobel hated the weekly appointments, a part of her felt grateful for them too.
Her meetings with Dr. Robinson provided a barricade between her and her parents, a protective yellow tape barring them access to the evidence she held within. Because as long as Isobel kept her appointments, her mom and dad couldn’t press her for answers. They had to back off, doctor’s orders. All Isobel had to do in return was endure one hour every week of a stranger’s tiptoeing inquiries.
During today’s appointment, Dr. Robinson carried a clipboard to the black leather swivel chair across from Isobel. Her face still held that same kind-yet-uneasy smile. Isobel wanted to tell Dr. Robinson not to worry about keeping that expression in place, not to pull a cheek muscle over it. She knew the woman didn’t know what to do with her, or what to tell her parents.
But Isobel said nothing. So far she’d done a good job of keeping her answers to various questions at a maximum of one to two sentences, well aware that anything she uttered in this woman’s presence would end up on the doctor’s word processor or yellow steno pad and, consequently, in her file.
Isobel’s parents would undoubtedly be allowed to see her file at some point. And even though today was only her third session, she knew her mom and dad had to be petitioning for the reveal to happen sooner rather than later.
