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Authors: Katie Alender
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they had to come back. Even if they couldn’t bring themselves to sleep here, surely they would return to get their things. And through the window, I could see that the car was still parked outside.
All I had to do was wait. With a sigh of relief, I sank onto the sofa, half expecting to crash to the floor, but the cushions caught me. I found a good spot to sit and stare at the car.
The police officers left. When the sky began to darken, I realized I’d been in the same spot for probably ten hours. But I wasn’t hungry, sore, or cramped. I didn’t even have to pee. I found these revelations terrifying. Without the minor needs of day-to-day life, was I even real anymore?
Even though I understood on some level that I was dead, that hadn’t stopped me from also thinking of myself as somehow alive. After all, I could still walk, and talk, and think …
But I wasn’t alive, was I?
I could sit there, unchanged, for a hundred years, during which time every single person I knew and cared about would grow old and die. Even if I went home to live with my parents, I’d still have to watch the passing years suck the life out of their bodies.
Not only that, but I’d have to see them living every day in complete misery. I’d probably end up going to my own funeral, which would be weird and horrible. Would Landon even come? I pictured him sitting in the front row, sobbing remorsefully, then swearing off other women forever and joining a monastery, where he would spend the rest of his life pining for me.
Yeah, right. He would probably just bring his new girlfriend. The camp counselor, whose arms were probably weighed down by all the friendship bracelets she got for being tanned and athletic and pretty. No. Landon was, pardon the expression, dead to me.
But my best friend, Nic … Nic would be heartbroken.
For a while, anyway. But even she would forget about me eventually. There would come a time when she’d get through a whole day without even a fleeting thought of me or the amazing times we had together. Some other girl—maybe her college roommate (who, by the way, was supposed to be me ) would be the maid of honor at her wedding. Nic would bring me up in conversation sometimes, and I would be this mysterious, tragic part of her past.
I didn’t want to be a dim anecdote from someone’s childhood. I wanted to be a person .
And what about my parents? Would they forget me, too?
I was wallowing in my own thoughts, melancholy and unfocused, when I suddenly noticed that everything around me seemed slightly … off. And not just the kind of “off” that happens when you’re dead. Off- er than that.
I snapped back to awareness.
The light in the room had brightened. The hills outside were washed in pale morning sun.
And my family’s belongings had disappeared.
My heart in my throat, I raced to the window, where I could see them in various stages of getting into the car: Janie fastening her seat belt in the backseat; Dad in the passenger seat; Mom standing just outside the car talking to a police officer; and my mom’s brother, my uncle James, lowering himself into the driver’s side.
I felt dizzy with confusion. What happened? How did I miss their return?
I ran to the door and spent a few seconds pawing uselessly at the knob before I remembered that I wasn’t going to be able to open it. I balled my hands into fists and banged on the door. It didn’t make a sound, and the door remained solid.
No. This couldn’t be happening. I wasn’t going to have to stay trapped in the house like an animal in a cage and watch my family drive off and leave me. That would be too brutal, too unfair. I had to get in that car.
I tried the door again. Nothing.
“Please!” I yelled, my voice rising in panic. “Please! Let me out! I need to get out!”
My chest ached, and tears sprang to my eyes. I covered my face with my hands.
I couldn’t do it.
Jingle, jingle.
“Eliza?” I snapped my head up to look around, but there
All I had to do was wait. With a sigh of relief, I sank onto the sofa, half expecting to crash to the floor, but the cushions caught me. I found a good spot to sit and stare at the car.
The police officers left. When the sky began to darken, I realized I’d been in the same spot for probably ten hours. But I wasn’t hungry, sore, or cramped. I didn’t even have to pee. I found these revelations terrifying. Without the minor needs of day-to-day life, was I even real anymore?
Even though I understood on some level that I was dead, that hadn’t stopped me from also thinking of myself as somehow alive. After all, I could still walk, and talk, and think …
But I wasn’t alive, was I?
I could sit there, unchanged, for a hundred years, during which time every single person I knew and cared about would grow old and die. Even if I went home to live with my parents, I’d still have to watch the passing years suck the life out of their bodies.
Not only that, but I’d have to see them living every day in complete misery. I’d probably end up going to my own funeral, which would be weird and horrible. Would Landon even come? I pictured him sitting in the front row, sobbing remorsefully, then swearing off other women forever and joining a monastery, where he would spend the rest of his life pining for me.
Yeah, right. He would probably just bring his new girlfriend. The camp counselor, whose arms were probably weighed down by all the friendship bracelets she got for being tanned and athletic and pretty. No. Landon was, pardon the expression, dead to me.
But my best friend, Nic … Nic would be heartbroken.
For a while, anyway. But even she would forget about me eventually. There would come a time when she’d get through a whole day without even a fleeting thought of me or the amazing times we had together. Some other girl—maybe her college roommate (who, by the way, was supposed to be me ) would be the maid of honor at her wedding. Nic would bring me up in conversation sometimes, and I would be this mysterious, tragic part of her past.
I didn’t want to be a dim anecdote from someone’s childhood. I wanted to be a person .
And what about my parents? Would they forget me, too?
I was wallowing in my own thoughts, melancholy and unfocused, when I suddenly noticed that everything around me seemed slightly … off. And not just the kind of “off” that happens when you’re dead. Off- er than that.
I snapped back to awareness.
The light in the room had brightened. The hills outside were washed in pale morning sun.
And my family’s belongings had disappeared.
My heart in my throat, I raced to the window, where I could see them in various stages of getting into the car: Janie fastening her seat belt in the backseat; Dad in the passenger seat; Mom standing just outside the car talking to a police officer; and my mom’s brother, my uncle James, lowering himself into the driver’s side.
I felt dizzy with confusion. What happened? How did I miss their return?
I ran to the door and spent a few seconds pawing uselessly at the knob before I remembered that I wasn’t going to be able to open it. I balled my hands into fists and banged on the door. It didn’t make a sound, and the door remained solid.
No. This couldn’t be happening. I wasn’t going to have to stay trapped in the house like an animal in a cage and watch my family drive off and leave me. That would be too brutal, too unfair. I had to get in that car.
I tried the door again. Nothing.
“Please!” I yelled, my voice rising in panic. “Please! Let me out! I need to get out!”
My chest ached, and tears sprang to my eyes. I covered my face with my hands.
I couldn’t do it.
Jingle, jingle.
“Eliza?” I snapped my head up to look around, but there
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