Read Online The Alchemy of Forever by Avery Williams - Free Book Online Page B

stay home from school today. I’ll stay with you.”
    I’m not sure how to respond. I imagine Kailey would be psyched to stay home from school, but the thought of spending the day with the mother of the girl I killed makes me feel physically ill. I need to get to the docks, and it will probably be easier able to slip away between classes than to escape from Mrs. Morgan’s watchful eye.
    I manage a weak smile. “I think I should go to school. Honestly, I feel fine.”
    Bryan sticks his head in the door, a piece of toast in his hand. “Are you seriously asking to go to school? Kiss ass.”
    “I’d really rather go,” I tell him.
    “I know.” He grins. “Just giving you a hard time.”
    Mrs. Morgan looks between the two of us, hesitating. “Okay. You can go. But you need to eat first. I’ll go make you something.” She heads back to the kitchen, and Bryan turns to follow her.
    “Hey, Bryan?” I push myself into a sitting position.
    “Yes, O spoiled one?”
    “Could you . . . not say anything to anyone at school about the car accident? I don’t want this getting around.”
    Bryan looks shocked. “I thought your life goal was being in the limelight.”
    I feel my cheeks growing hot. “I just don’t want to make a big deal about it.”
    He stares at me. “You’re blushing.”
    I turn away from him. I’ve always been a blusher, no matter what body I’m in.
    “Bryan, please.”
    “Okay. Whatever you want, weirdo.” He pops the rest of his toast in his mouth.
    After he’s gone I look through Kailey’s vintage armoire for something to wear. It smells of oiled cherry wood and laundry detergent, and the neatly hung clothes are organized by color, like an artist’s palette.
    I wonder what she would pick to wear, running my hand along a purple cashmere sweater and a deep fuchsia dress covered with a blue geometric pattern. I ultimately settle on a pair of cropped, rust-colored jeans and a burgundy, lace-trimmed tunic. The scent of jasmine has entwined itself in the fabric, reminding me with each inhale just whose clothes I am wearing.
    I race through breakfast—eggs over easy with chicken sausage—as Bryan enters the kitchen.
    “We’ve gotta go. I think I hear Noah’s car out front.”
    Noah. I wonder if that’s the neighbor boy’s name. I grab Kailey’s backpack and stare at Mrs. Morgan. Her hair is combed neatly back into a ponytail and the dark circles that had been so prominent under eyes yesterday have vanished. After a moment’s hesitation I pull her into a hug. “I love you,” I say softly, wishing I could ease the pain she’ll feel when her daughter doesn’t return home tonight.
    “Love you, too, Kailes,” Mrs. Morgan says in a slightly surprised voice. She kisses my cheek, then shoos me out the door.
    Bryan is waiting next to Noah’s ancient VW Bug, tapping his foot. “Finally,” he says, pointing toward the backseat. “Invalids have to ride in the back,” he explains with a grin.
    I feel Noah’s eyes on me as I climb into the car. In the sunlight they are a warm turquoise, the same color as Cyrus’s had been two bodies ago. I pull the seat belt across my lap. The boys thankfully fill the silence and ignore me, though I catch Noah glancing back at me in the rearview mirror now and then. I place my forehead against the cool window, letting Noah and Bryan’s conversation wash over me as I pray over and over again that my bag is still on the crane.
    We pass a line of small houses—Craftsman, A-frame, and a squat shingled one that would have been more at home in Cape Cod. Wildflowers grow chaotically all around it, Queen Anne’s lace mixing with bright yellow goldenrod and purple sage. My mother would have loved it. My father allowed her a small patch of garden that the servants weren’t allowed to touch. She spent hours out there, teaching me the Latin names of each seed: lilium , rosa , cosmos , and orchis . She would weave me halos of daisies and belladonna, always warning me