2014
I stifle another yawn and rest my head back on my desk. This has got to be one of the longest days of any of my lives. The minutes are slowly dragging by, and I can't concentrate on anything because I hardly got any sleep last night.
It was Caroline's fault. She kept me out way too late. Keeping up with her has become like a full-time job, and it's exhausting. After ditching school yesterday, she picked up some random guys at the skate park, broke into an empty house her mother has been trying to sell, and then stripped down and got in the hot tub. She would've stayed all night if I hadn't nagged her until she finally agreed to go home.
I know I'm to blame. Caroline's out of control because of me, and what I told her about the past. Frankly, I was lucky she didn't do the math that night when we were thirteen. She wouldn't have been able to comprehend how much of a role she plays in my story.
Of course, over the years, and through the countless of conversations we've had, she's figured it all out. But she didn't outright ask me about it until last year. Initially, I wasn't even sure how honest I should be; after all, her future is wrapped up with mine and that doesn't lead anywhere good, but Caroline has never been anything if not persistent.
"I don't get it," she huffed as she leaned up against the display counter in Mrs. Chang's Antique Shop while I was working late one summer afternoon.
"What don't you get?" I asked.
"Well, some of your story doesn't make sense, like, I was thinking about it... Wouldn't my old incarnation still be alive when you're reborn?"
I stopped filling out the order forms in front of me and put down my pen, grateful that the store was empty. "What do you mean?" I asked.
"I mean, how would it be possible for me to exist in 1997 when the old me from your last lifetime—Claire, wasn't it? Wouldn't she be, like, only thirty-five or something? I mean, don't we both share the same soul or whatever? How can we both exist at the same time?"
I peeked over as she picked a broken pocket watch up off the counter and let it swing from her hand, waiting for some kind of explanation, but I couldn't bring myself to tell her. Instead I just blinked back down at the order forms and kept my mouth shut.
"Oh." She was silent for a moment, understanding what wasn't being said. "So, I die too, huh?"
I didn't have it in me to lie anymore, and yet I couldn't bring myself to give her all the gory details either, so I kept it brief.
"Caroline, none of you—your parents, your brother, Nina Donaldson—none of you survive very long after me. That's how the cycle keeps repeating itself," I explained, trying to break it to her as gently as I could.
She dropped the watch back on the counter and turned around. The resentment on her face making it clear that she didn't want to believe me.
"That doesn't make any sense. I mean, you're telling me that my parents die after you, and yet somehow manage to be reborn and grow old enough to have Derrick all before you're reincarnated again? I mean I know my mom had us super young, but Ellie, listen to how that sounds."
I sighed in exasperation and pushed the forms away from me. Sometimes I felt like I spent a majority of my lifetimes fielding questions I didn't have the answers to.
"Listen, I don't know what you want from me, Caroline. No guardian angel has ever appeared and explained the rules like they would in a fairytale; because this isn't a stupid fairytale. It's more like a curse, and it didn't come with any instructions. All I know is that I never make it to eighteen. It always happens. I'm murdered, and born again, still living in Connecticut, but in a whole new time. I don't remember the in-between. I don't know what happens. It's just like that. It's always been that way."
I close my eyes, remembering how she tried not to cry, but ever since that day, my best friend's behavior has been erratic at best. I get what she's doing; how she's trying to pack every minute of her life with excitement. I've been there myself, but she needs to be more careful.
My teacher, Mr. Craig, paces up the row by my desk, cradling a textbook in his hands and shooting off questions. "Ellie, what year was the Louisiana Purchase?"
"April 30, 1803," I answer without lifting my head. History is the one class I don't have to put much effort into, for obvious reasons, and I'm thankful for that today.
When the bell finally rings, I grab my books and haul myself up. I'm almost out the door when Mr. Craig calls out my name. I stop, inwardly groaning. Not today, I think as I drag myself over to his desk.
He's stacking the pop quizzes he'd surprised us with earlier and nods down at them. "How do you think you did?" he asks.
I shrug. "I'm not sure."
Chuckling, he pushes his wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, not falling for my false modesty. "Another hundred percent?"
I shrug again and he drops down into his chair, shaking his head. "God, Ellie, if I were a less confident man, you'd have me doubting my ability to create a challenging quiz."
He leans back and smiles up at me. "Luckily we both know you just happen to be brilliant at this stuff."
I shift uncomfortably, not use to such praise.
"So, how are things at home?" he asks, changing the subject to a more difficult one.
Mr. Craig is one of those rare teachers who goes above and beyond, making it his business to get involved in his students' lives. And even though I don't want to go down this road, I feel like I somehow owe him after his kindness last spring when Coco's drinking spiraled out of control, and she overdosed in March. The whole situation was awful, and to make matters worse, I was forced into a foster home.
Rumors swirled around town, but Mr. Craig was the only adult to step-in and help. He got in contact with my social worker and talked me through every step of the process. He made sure I kept going to school, got my assignments turned in on time, and was clean, and fed. Despite my protests, he even drove me to visit Coco in rehab. He's that type of guy, annoyingly helpful, just like Ambrose was, and all the others after him.
But he's also a liar like they were too, and I hate that I already know that.
"At home? Um... Things are normal, I guess." I pick at the frayed strap of my backpack, avoiding his eyes.
"And your mother?"
"Coco? Yeah, she's good."
This isn't entirely true, but Mr. Craig doesn't need to know that. I've been keeping a close eye on Coco. I won't allow her the opportunity to pull another stunt like she did last spring.
I watch him search my face, looking for signs that I'm holding something back. He's too smart not to see them, but too kind to push me any further.
"Well, if you need anything, you know that Tyler and I are both here for you."
Tyler is Mr. Craig's son. I shared a class with him last year when he was a senior, and despite me trying to fight it, we became fast friends. Now he's taking classes at the local community college, so I still see him a lot around town.
Mr. Craig relaxes into a smile and taps his pen against the arm of his chair. "In fact, Tyler mentioned something about seeing you tomorrow night." He raises an eyebrow. "Something about a big celebration..."
My heart drops. Caroline! This has to be her handiwork. What is she thinking?
Mr. Craig misreads my expression and laughs. "Don't worry, Ellie! It's your birthday. I'm not going to bust you guys. You deserve a little fun."
"Thanks," I mumble, taking a step back from his desk, overcome with the desire to find Caroline. She's got some explaining to do. She knows I can't stand parties; all they ever do is cause drama, and that's the last thing I need on my birthday. Especially this one.
"Happy birthday, and fun this weekend!" Mr. Craig calls out.
I wave back at him as I hurry out the door, searching the school until I find Caroline sitting by herself behind the gym. Her eyes are closed and she's got her earbuds in, so I nudge her with the toe of my boot to get her attention.
She startles, but breaks out into a big grin she when realizes it's me.
"What's going on?" she asks as she pulls out her earbuds and squints up at me. "Aren't you supposed to be in art?"
Ignoring her question, I ask one of my own. "A party, Caroline? Seriously?"
Her eyes go wide but then quickly narrow. "Who spilled?"
"Never mind 'who spilled'. What the hell are you thinking?"
She lets out a good-natured laugh and smacks my leg. "Come on! Don't act so surprised! You knew I wouldn't let your birthday pass by without celebrating. You told me yourself: I never do!"
I sink down next to her. "This isn't a good idea."
"And why not?"
"Because there are other people I'm less enthusiastic about seeing that could show up."
"You mean like that guy Martin?" She slips her earbuds into her bag and shrugs. "You told me yourself that no matter what you do, he's going to show up eventually. I don't understand why we can't have a little fun with it?"
"Fun?" I shake my head. "You seriously don't comprehend my track record with parties, do you?"
Caroline rolls her eyes. "Come on! You don't have to worry about anything. I'm going to do all the work."
"How are you pulling this off anyway? There's no way your mother is letting you throw a party for me at your house."
"We're not having it at my house."
The enthusiastic look on her face does nothing to calm my nerves.
"Okay," she straightens up, putting her hand out in warning. "Don't freak out."
Inside, I have already begun freaking out.
"We're having it at Potter Falls, over in Claremont."
If I was still standing, I surely would've fallen over. I gawk up at Caroline, completely floored. Potter Falls is where I was killed in 1799. She knows that! I told her! There's no way in hell I'm going back there!
"I thought it was morbidly appropriate. You know, taking you back to where it all began." She waves her fingers in front of me, like she's telling some sort of spooky story, but I swat them away.
"What are you talking about? Things didn't start at Potter Falls; they ended there! I met Levi for the first time at your house, back in 1798."
"Well, this was as close as I could get. The house I supposedly lived in is long gone, and Potter Falls is the only place I know of that has any connection to your first lifetime."
"Why does that even matter?"
"I don't know! Maybe we'll discover something new."
"Like what? A confession note buried under the leaves for last 200 hundred plus years?"
Caroline's green eyes darken, and she glares at me. "I'm sorry, but did you get some rule book I'm unaware of? No offense here, Ellie, but this is your seventh time around.... Maybe you should try listening to someone else's suggestions?"
I don't bother correcting her. I don't tell her that I actually have listened to her before. She's obviously put a lot of thought into this. It affects her too. And she's right, I should try to be more open to her ideas, even if they are destined to fail.
"Listen, we're doing things my way tomorrow night. No complaining." She gives me a look as if everything has been settled, and I nod compliantly, hoping that maybe this will at least give her something else to obsess over rather than her own fate, which I haven't managed to stop from reoccurring yet either. But Caroline's not ready to hear all the details about that. Besides, if history has taught me anything, it won't matter anyway. She never listens.