I shrugged. “That’s not really my kind of story either.”
The only time we didn’t hash out the readings was before classes Lucas was to teach. He didn’t want a preview of the things that might be thrown at him, preferring the harder road of having to think on his feet. I admired that, but never challenged him in class anyway. I don’t think I could have had a public argument without turning absolutely magenta, sure that everyone would see the way I felt about him.
We were halfway through summer session, a week past the July 4 break. Halfway through my time with Drea too, though I no longer counted the days. Not with an eye toward their conclusion, at least. Lucas and I had been together just over a month, though it felt like much longer. He was already pushing me to take a class or two for credit in fall and apply as a full-time student for next year. I had gotten the paperwork and was thinking about looking into it, maybe trying for my GED or something, asking Drea if I could stay. Crazy ideas, really. Mostly I tried not to think about the future. We have time, I thought, I’ll just enjoy today and figure out the rest later.
Chapter 19
I could feel his weight beside me, warm and comforting, before I opened my eyes. The honking outside meant it was rush hour in Bering, past eight, time to get up. I rolled over to face Lucas. It was one of my favorite things, to catch him in that moment just before waking when his face was between the slackness of sleep and its daytime consciousness.
But there was something wrong with that face. I rubbed my eyes, praying it was a trick of the light, always overbright in his south-facing, whitewashed rooms.
The mark on Lucas didn’t go away.
I sat up, grabbing my head in both hands. There was no reason for it to be his time. Couldn’t be.
“Cass?” Lucas rolled onto his back, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Timesit?”
I couldn’t answer. What would I say? Eight twelve seemed too mundane. Less than twenty-four hours before you die too dramatic.
“C’sandra?” Lucas propped himself on his elbows, squinting at me. “You okay?”
I nodded. What to do? What to do? A million thoughts raced through my head—get him to a hospital—or should it be on a plane to California? No, a hospital was no good. For God’s sake, he was eighteen; he wasn’t going to have a heart attack. It was going to be an accident. I thought about all the things that could happen: plane crashes, car wrecks, Wile E. Coyote anvil to the head. I realized that there was no sun streaming through his blinds and hopped off the bed to pull them aside. Raining. I remembered Mr. McKenzie, the squealing tires, the awful crunch. Right.
“Let’s stay in today,” I said.
He smiled, sat up, and rubbed his eyes again. “I’d love to, Cassandra. But I’ve got to get to this TA work session.”
“Skip it.”
He shook his head. “No can do. It’s mandatory and there’re only ten of us. I would definitely be missed.”
“Tell them you’re sick. I’ll call in to the coffee shop and we’ll stay here together.”
He looked at me closer. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” But you’re not. I had to convince him to stay. It was the only chance. What could possibly happen here? Immediately, a list of things popped into my mind: gas explosion, roof collapse, building fire. Still, it was safer than the outside world. But how to keep him in? If I told him the truth, he’d think I was crazy. Or he might run out the door, to the airport. Wasn’t that his right, though? To choose how to spend his last day?
I tried again. “Come on. Let’s do something spontaneous. Carpe diem. We’ll order breakfast, maybe read … I don’t know, sonnets aloud to each other or …”
He held up a hand. “I’d love to, honey, but today’s not a good day. Let’s carpe diem tomorrow, when I don’t have a meeting.”
Lucas pushed aside the down comforter and stood, stretching his smooth and muscular body. “I’m going to hop in the shower.” And off he went.
I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to figure out what to do. I couldn’t let Lucas go. The thought of losing him was a buzzing pressure swelling my brain, making it hard to hear or see. It couldn’t be his day. I wouldn’t let it. But I knew his tone: he was committed to that stupid meeting. I thought of telling him I was sick or calling in a bomb threat, but in the end, I couldn’t be sure any of them would really keep him here.
When he came out of the shower, still steamy, with a towel wrapped around his waist and another rubbing his hair, I was waiting.
He stopped short when he saw me.
“Lucas, I have to tell you something. Something you’re going to think is crazy.”
He stared at me, worry creasing the space between his brows.
I took a deep breath. “There’s this thing, kind of a sixth sense that I have.” I had never said it aloud to anyone but Nan, and hearing the words in my head, just before they came out, they sounded nuts. “I can tell when someone is about to die.”
No reaction.
I rushed on, needing to get it out before it was too late, before he cut me off or I started to cry. “It’s something I see—a light, like a glow—around them. It’s been there as far back as I can remember. When I see it, they die that day. I can’t tell how it’s going to happen, or exactly when, just that, as far as I know, it’s before the day ends.”
Still nothing.
I whispered the next part. “I see it on you. Right now.”
He didn’t speak, didn’t move, and neither did I. Outside, life went on, horns honked, doors slammed, but here nothing, both of us paralyzed. Me by the magnitude of what I’d told him, and Lucas by … I’m not sure what. The complete unbelievability of it maybe.
“You’re kidding, right?” He knew I wasn’t.
I shook my head.
“You really believe this? That you can see … death?”
I nodded and said softly, “I can.” And then I started crying. It was so God-awful important to me that Lucas believe and not leave me, and I could tell I wasn’t getting through to him. That, at best, he thought I was hysterical and at worse, psycho, someone he should have known better than to get involved with in the first place. I couldn’t win.
He came to me, put his hands on my shoulders. “Cassie.”
I couldn’t look at him. I looked down, but even his feet were surrounded by the damned light. I closed my eyes, the tears squeezing through somehow, running unchecked down my cheeks. He wiped them.