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Authors: Laura Miller
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lumberyard to me.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her head bob.
“Are you hell-bent on taking it?”
I laugh. “Yeah,” I say, nodding. “I wouldn’t mind taking it over someday. It’s been in the family for years.”
She breathes out a smile.
“Maybe I’ll work for the Times .”
“ The New York Times ?”
“Yeah.”
“All the way in New York?”
“Maybe,” she says.
We both sit there then, listening to the water soothingly make its way from one side of the slab to the other.
“I’m gonna call you...after you’re gone,” I say, breaking the sweet silence.
“I know,” she says.
I reach for her hand, and she lets me hold it.
And I just smile. My heart’s breaking, but I smile anyway because despite what tomorrow brings, I still have her tonight.
And I don’t know how much time goes by before we both drift off to sleep, our sides touching, her hand in mine—maybe for one, last time.
V annah: You get home okay?
Eben: Safe and sound.
Vannah: :) Good.
Eben: I had fun tonight.
Vannah: Me too.
Eben: When do you leave?
Vannah: In about 5 hours.
Eben: :(
Vannah: You still haven’t finished the story.
Eben: Oh, yeah
Vannah: What does the boy wish for? My bet’s on the x-ray vision.
Eben: Haha!
Eben: His wish is for the girl.
Vannah: So he can have all the wishes he wants?
Eben: Yeah. Something like that. ;)
Vannah: Eben
Eben: Yeah
Vannah: I’d stay if I could.
Eben: I know
Eben: I’m going to miss you.
Vannah: I already miss you.
Eben: You should get some sleep.
Vannah: Probably
Eben: Don’t stay away forever.
Vannah: I won’t.
Eben: Promise?
Vannah: Promise
Eben: Good night, V
Vannah: Sweet dreams, E
Chapter Twelve
Salem
(Sixteen Years Old)
Day 4,041
I t’s the 2nd of October, and it’s the first day that Savannah isn’t at her usual spot in the hallway before school.
I look around to make sure no one is looking, and I open her locker door, just to see if she’s really gone.
Inside, the shelves are empty—no books, no pictures of her or her friends or Rusty, no bag, no sign of Vannah. But then I see a little folded up piece of paper sitting on the shelf, and I quickly snatch it up.
I start to unfold it, guessing it’s probably just some old note to a friend or a schedule of some kind or something like that, when I stop.
I see my name, and my heart jumps. And my eyes immediately go to reading the rest:
I knew you’d go snooping around my locker after I was gone. I should have left some sort of booby trap!
Anyway, I just wanted to say that I already miss you. This last month was the best month of my life. It stinks it had to end.
You’re my favorite person.
Love,
Vannah
P.S. You better tell me when you find my star tower.
P.P.S. The gift is for Rusty. And by Rusty, I mean you. I needed a new one anyway. :)
Gift?
The locker is empty.
I furrow my brow and close the door. Then I carefully fold the note, stick it deep into my pocket and open the locker right next to hers.
And then I see it.
Stuffed at the very bottom of my locker is a bed comforter—one with little purple cats all over it.
W e talked on the phone that whole semester after that. We talked about our days, about Rusty, about her new life in South Carolina and our old life we used to have back here. And then as the winter drew on, we talked less and less. She got a job babysitting for a wealthy couple on some place called Rainbow Row down there, and it snowed here just enough to keep me knee-deep in the snow-removal business—the winter business in the grass business. And then one day, I don’t know how or why I noticed it just then, but in the middle of a basketball practice the next year, it just hit me: I hadn’t really talked to Vannah for months.
I remember feeling lost in that moment, like someone had just punched me in the gut and left me in some strange place.
I figured she was
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her head bob.
“Are you hell-bent on taking it?”
I laugh. “Yeah,” I say, nodding. “I wouldn’t mind taking it over someday. It’s been in the family for years.”
She breathes out a smile.
“Maybe I’ll work for the Times .”
“ The New York Times ?”
“Yeah.”
“All the way in New York?”
“Maybe,” she says.
We both sit there then, listening to the water soothingly make its way from one side of the slab to the other.
“I’m gonna call you...after you’re gone,” I say, breaking the sweet silence.
“I know,” she says.
I reach for her hand, and she lets me hold it.
And I just smile. My heart’s breaking, but I smile anyway because despite what tomorrow brings, I still have her tonight.
And I don’t know how much time goes by before we both drift off to sleep, our sides touching, her hand in mine—maybe for one, last time.
V annah: You get home okay?
Eben: Safe and sound.
Vannah: :) Good.
Eben: I had fun tonight.
Vannah: Me too.
Eben: When do you leave?
Vannah: In about 5 hours.
Eben: :(
Vannah: You still haven’t finished the story.
Eben: Oh, yeah
Vannah: What does the boy wish for? My bet’s on the x-ray vision.
Eben: Haha!
Eben: His wish is for the girl.
Vannah: So he can have all the wishes he wants?
Eben: Yeah. Something like that. ;)
Vannah: Eben
Eben: Yeah
Vannah: I’d stay if I could.
Eben: I know
Eben: I’m going to miss you.
Vannah: I already miss you.
Eben: You should get some sleep.
Vannah: Probably
Eben: Don’t stay away forever.
Vannah: I won’t.
Eben: Promise?
Vannah: Promise
Eben: Good night, V
Vannah: Sweet dreams, E
Chapter Twelve
Salem
(Sixteen Years Old)
Day 4,041
I t’s the 2nd of October, and it’s the first day that Savannah isn’t at her usual spot in the hallway before school.
I look around to make sure no one is looking, and I open her locker door, just to see if she’s really gone.
Inside, the shelves are empty—no books, no pictures of her or her friends or Rusty, no bag, no sign of Vannah. But then I see a little folded up piece of paper sitting on the shelf, and I quickly snatch it up.
I start to unfold it, guessing it’s probably just some old note to a friend or a schedule of some kind or something like that, when I stop.
I see my name, and my heart jumps. And my eyes immediately go to reading the rest:
I knew you’d go snooping around my locker after I was gone. I should have left some sort of booby trap!
Anyway, I just wanted to say that I already miss you. This last month was the best month of my life. It stinks it had to end.
You’re my favorite person.
Love,
Vannah
P.S. You better tell me when you find my star tower.
P.P.S. The gift is for Rusty. And by Rusty, I mean you. I needed a new one anyway. :)
Gift?
The locker is empty.
I furrow my brow and close the door. Then I carefully fold the note, stick it deep into my pocket and open the locker right next to hers.
And then I see it.
Stuffed at the very bottom of my locker is a bed comforter—one with little purple cats all over it.
W e talked on the phone that whole semester after that. We talked about our days, about Rusty, about her new life in South Carolina and our old life we used to have back here. And then as the winter drew on, we talked less and less. She got a job babysitting for a wealthy couple on some place called Rainbow Row down there, and it snowed here just enough to keep me knee-deep in the snow-removal business—the winter business in the grass business. And then one day, I don’t know how or why I noticed it just then, but in the middle of a basketball practice the next year, it just hit me: I hadn’t really talked to Vannah for months.
I remember feeling lost in that moment, like someone had just punched me in the gut and left me in some strange place.
I figured she was
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