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Amber Blake is having dreams, and they just might be the key to saving her best friend, Mark.
Unfortunately, she's too preoccupied pretending to hate the boy next door, Carter Hayes. Secretly hoping to rekindle what once was, Amber atte...
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I snatch my hands back.
My head whips around to Carter. "What is she talking about?"
"Amber, I'm so sorry—" Chloe cuts in.
"Stop," I put a hand between us, "Mark isn't dead."
She stumbles away from me until her back hits the kitchen island. Pressing a hand firmly against her mouth, she attempts to muffle her sobs, but it's in vain. They're loud in the silence of the kitchen, accompanied only by the sound of the rain outside.
Carter rushes over and puts a hand on my back, but I shake him off.
"Mark isn't dead," I repeat forcefully.
He eyes me wearily but doesn't touch me again. "Amber, listen to me—"
"No, you listen." My hands tremble at my sides, and I ball them into fists so tight that my nails pierce the palms. I don't even feel it. "Mark is not dead. I've been calling him and his voicemail picks up, which means he's still paying the bill."
Chloe trains her eyes to the floor. Carter takes me tentatively by the shoulders, his breaths shaky. I don't brush him off this time, thinking he understands what I'm saying. He bends down until he's at my eye level, but instead of comprehension, all I find is grief.
"We pay the bill, Amber."
I go still in his hands. It's as if all the air gets sucked from the room.
"What?"
Carter's eyes brim with tears, but he keeps them at bay. He inhales sharply, "We pay the phone bill to keep the voicemail open. You call it sometimes when you miss him, or on his birthday—"
"No." The word barely passes through my lips. "You're lying."
"Amber, I'm not."
"You are," I shout past the lump in my throat. I try to suck air back in, but my airways are closed off. "I can't breathe."
"Yes you can, you just have to calm down." He rubs my shoulders in wide circles, but I've gone completely numb. His comforting touch can't reach me.
