He waited for me at my locker. We held hands. Sometimes he ate lunch with us. It was weird. Not just him at our table—though that was really awkward because of Hannah’s crush on him—but pretending to be normal when the thing that bound us was our history—both the ancient ties and the more recent one of having been at that woman’s death together. Having helped her die.
We went on dates, mostly to the mall. Of all places. I’d suggested bowling or the city or even the diner where I’d seen Nick Altos’s dad with the mark, but somehow we always came back to the mall. Whatever. Zander dressed well and I can’t say I really minded seeing him try on clothes, especially because he’d pull me into the room with him any time the clerks weren’t looking. It was easy, then, to forget that there were too many people at the mall and hard to keep my hands to myself in that tight space with him half dressed. Sometimes I didn’t bother trying.
When Petra was at work, he’d come to the apartment and we’d lie side by side on my bed, ostensibly doing homework. Often doing other stuff, though I always put a limit on how much. I was outrageously attracted to Zander. There’s no question I wanted him. But not yet. I knew his deepest secret and he knew mine but—crazy as it sounds—I felt like I didn’t know him. Not the way I’d known Jack. Or even Lucas, for that matter. I don’t think Zander realized how every conversation we had—about friends, books, movies—skated on the most superficial surface.
I’d tried anything and everything I could think of, hoping to capture that feeling of intimacy without being intimate that I’d always had with Jack. Of course, I’d never had to ask what his favorite childhood book was or if he’d had pets growing up. Sometimes Zander would answer those questions. Mostly, he sidestepped anything that scratched too deep. Or just flat out shut me down, like the day we were lying on my bed, ignoring our history homework.
“What happened to your father?” I asked him in the middle of a backrub. My voice was partly muffled by the pillow, but I knew he’d heard because he froze, his thumb digging into my back a little too hard.
“Why are you asking me that now?” he said.
“Well, I—” But he didn’t let me finish.
“You’re kind of ruining the moment, Cass.” He stood up. I felt bad but also frustrated. When was he going to tell me something about how he felt? Something that actually touched him?
“I’m just, you know, trying to get to know you, Zander.”
“Well, that’s not the way to do it,” he said bluntly.
A week later—two or so after Lucy Edwards’s wake—we were at the mall again, on our usual route past Sears, the bookstore, the pimply kid at the movie theater. A quick recon visit to Abercrombie or Gap, then on to the food court, where we shared a dish of ice cream. Zander liked vanilla, but it was my turn to pick so we had rocky road with Heath bar on top.
He fed me a spoonful, which made me smile, though I felt sort of ridiculous too. Zander seemed to have no internal censor for sappy couples’ behavior because he followed it up with a kiss, then another, things heating up a little too fast.
“Shouldn’t we be doing this, um, somewhere else?” I asked, disengaging him as best I could.
Zander raised his eyebrows. “Where did you have in mind?”
“I … That’s not what I meant exactly.” I could feel the blush on my cheeks. “I mean, should we really be making out in the middle of the mall?” Just saying it made me squirm. “Let’s talk,” I said, trying to redirect. “Tell me about … your first day of school here. How old were you when you and your mom moved to Bellevue?”
Zander rolled his eyes. “This again? What a girl you are, Cassie,” he teased, leaning back. “Should we talk about our feelings?”
“That’s insulting, Zander.” It wasn’t wrong for me to want to know something about him like a normal girlfriend would. Stuff not about death or fate.
He smiled affectionately. “I’m tempted to see if I can make you angry enough to stomp your feet,” Zander said. “But I have an idea. Why don’t you come over for dinner this weekend? My mom’s been bugging me to bring you. You can ask her all the questions you want, talk about feelings, have a good cry if you like … maybe I’ll even join in.”
“Sure,” I said. “That’d be nice.” Finally, I thought. Kind of like the dinners I used to have with Jack and his mom.
Calliope Dasios wasted no time making sure it was unlike any dinner at Jack’s.
“Cassandra,” she breathed, almost reverently, as she embraced me at the front door. “Welcome. I’m so pleased you and Zander are fulfilling your destinies together.”
“Uh …”
“Mom,” Zander said, grimacing. “Maybe take it down a notch?”
“Did I get carried away?” Calliope’s smile was warm and self-deprecating. She linked her arm through mine. “I’m just thrilled you two have found each other. We’ve been looking for so long.”
I heard Zander sigh behind me. I guess even Death isn’t immune to parental embarrassment. His mother led me to a velvety armchair in the center of the living room. Zander sat in a matching one across the coffee table from me and Calliope was between, on the couch. She poured us each a glass of water from a pitcher with slices of lemons and limes floating among the ice.
“There was so much I wanted to ask on your last visit,” she said, “but Zander told me you didn’t know yet. About him.” She laughed. “You have no idea how hard it was for me to bite my tongue!”
I smiled back, surprised how comfortable Calliope was—how comfortable she made me—about a topic I was so accustomed to hiding. As if our gifts were not only normal, but good. “I was a little surprised to find out that Zander was who—what—he is.”
She nodded. “I want to know everything, Cassandra,” she said, leaning forward. “Everything you’re willing to share. About how long you’ve known, how you found out. About your people.” She glanced toward Zander and I did too. He nodded, a patient resignation on his face. “It’s been years,” Calliope continued, looking back at me, “since we’ve had someone Zander could pair up with. And what a beautiful match the two of you make.”
I lowered my eyes, both thrilled and troubled by Calliope’s enthusiasm. It was like she was already planning our wedding.