Everneath

Tommy and I packed up our gear, and I drove the car while he recounted every “catch” he’d made that day. I smiled at the simple routine of it all.

Since the night at Cole’s condo, I had tried to stop counting the seconds. But the numbers relentlessly filed past my vision, coming to rest in my head. Eventually, they were no longer numbers. Just flashes. Sparks of light, shooting across the horizon in my mind, ticking away the moments since I had last touched Jack.

And that was how the seconds evolved into minutes. Then hours. Then days.

What Jack did for me splintered me, and I wondered how my body stayed together each day instead of falling apart into the thousands of little pieces it should’ve been. Each time I looked in a mirror, I was surprised the cracks didn’t show on my face. With every smile, I should’ve shattered.

When we turned the final corner to my street, I saw a big black motorcycle parked alongside the curb. The sun glinted off the mirrors, making me squint and question whether or not what I was seeing was really there.

“Who’s that?” Tommy said.

I shielded my eyes with my hand. A figure in the shadow of the neighbor’s oak tree moved, catching my eye.

Cole.

“It’s no one, Tommy.” I pulled the car into the driveway, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Cole take a step forward. “Listen, I want you to go inside and wait for me,” I said as I threw the gearshift into park.

“Why?”

I kept my eyes on Cole. “Just do it, okay? Please?”

I turned off the car, and we both got out. A passing cloud blocked the sun, erasing the shadow of the tree. Tommy threw the gear bag over his shoulder and made a move to grab one of the fishing poles.

“Leave the poles,” I said. “I’ll get them.”

He nodded, and hesitated for only a moment before he walked away. Once he was inside, Cole came toward me. I met him halfway.

Cole looked changed. He still wore the same clothes; his hair was still the same sandy blond. He hadn’t changed in any tangible way. But the difference was there, in the way he walked. No swagger. And the way his lips weren’t pulled up in a smug grin.

“Hey, Nik.”

I stopped a couple of feet away from him and folded my arms. “What are you doing here?”

He shifted his stance, his hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. “We both lost here.”

“So, what, you’re here to commiserate? Don’t even pretend we’ve been through the same thing. You lost some game. I lost…” My voice caught as if on a fishing hook.

“Whether you like it or not, you’re still my future. I have to know…” He stepped closer and grabbed my hand. “You have to tell me, how did you do it? How did you stay young during the Feed?”

I twisted my hand out of his grasp and took a couple of steps back.

“Even if I knew, what makes you think I’d tell you?”

Finally a hint of his smirk danced on his mouth. “Because I have ninety-nine years until I have to Feed again.” He stepped forward. “I have all the time in the world. What, in your infinite knowledge of me, makes you think I’d ever give up?”

I squinted at him in the sunlight. “Cole, do you feel anything for me?” I don’t know what made me ask this, except that Jack had asked him the night of the Tunnels. It obviously surprised him.

He backed up. “What?”

I inched forward, not quite sure where I was going with this. “Do you feel … something for me?”

He was quiet, still as a statue, so I moved even closer.

“Don’t, Nik.” His gaze dropped to the ground.

“If you feel anything, please leave me alone. I don’t know why I survived. I don’t have your answer. Shadowing me will get you nothing.”

Then he did something unexpected. He backed down, and as he turned around to his motorcycle, he shook his head and mumbled, “What have you done to me?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But you have ninety-nine years to figure it out.”

He kicked it on and revved the engine, and at the sound, he found his cocky smirk again. “That’s a long time, Nik. Jack is gone, and I’m here. Let’s see who gives up first.”

I stayed there until he drove away, his tires screeching against the asphalt, then I let out a sigh. The sun had set and I felt that familiar tug pulling me to my bedroom. My tether to Jack coaxed me there every night, just like a rubber band drawing me in.

The thing was, I knew exactly how I had survived. Mary had been on to something with her anchor theory, but she was a little unclear on the logistics. Jack told me he dreamed of me every night, and it was as if I were really there. I was in a dark place, and he helped me see.

Now Jack was invading my dreams every night. Not a dream Jack, but the real thing.

I know this because during one of the first dreams, he told me what the tattoo on his arm said. Ever Yours. The next morning, I rushed to draw the image from memory, and then I researched it.

The symbols were artistic versions of ancient Sanskrit words. They stood for eternity and belonging. Ever Yours, just as Jack had said. There was no way my subconscious could have come up with that explanation on its own.

I’d finally found the connection Meredith had longed for, the tether from an anchor that kept a Forfeit alive. They were bound together through their dreams, sustaining each other during sleep.

When I was asleep, Jack would come to my bedroom and sit on the end of the mattress and face me. He came to me every night, talking about his uncle’s cabin, the Christmas Dance, how my hair hides my eyes, how my hand fits in his, how he loves me. How he’ll never leave. I spent the first few dreams saying “I’m sorry” over and over and over, until he threatened to stay away if I didn’t stop.

My dad wondered why I couldn’t wait to go to bed every night. “You sure you’re feeling okay, Nikki?” he would say. “I’ve never seen someone sleep so much.”

“I’m good, Dad. I’m probably just making up for all those sleepless nights.”

Since Jack left, my dad had been trying to spend more time with me, going out of his way to relate to me. Maybe he was worried I might leave again.

I wasn’t going anywhere. The Tunnels had forgotten about me. Jack’s sacrifice meant that I had my family back, and even though our fractured relationships had a ways to go, my home life was suddenly a stronghold in my otherwise messed-up world.

I had escaped the Tunnels. I had my family back. And in a way, I had Jack, too. The pain of loss was fresh every night, but I no longer begged to have it taken away. I owned it.

I revised my paper for Mrs. Stone’s class. I’d found my redemption, and my hero. And I was going to get him back.

AT NIGHT

My bedroom, as I drift.

Every night, Jack is with me.

He lies down on his side, lengthwise on my bed, and props his head up on my pillow. I mirror his position. He places his hand over mine. I see it, but I don’t feel it. We discovered long ago that we can’t touch, even in our dreams. I am as much of a ghost to him as he is to me. We are a breath away—and a world apart—from each other.

He doesn’t know where he goes when he’s not with me. He doesn’t think he exists anymore, except for in my dreams.

I think he is right. And I tell him to hang on. I will never stop dreaming of him.

I will find him.