THREE MONTHS LATER
Life without Ada seems unreal. Since September, we spent every day together. I practically lived at her house. She knew things about me that I never shared with anyone.
I know she isn't gone gone. She's still alive. It's just that she's been away for so long, and I don't know if Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpatrick ever plan on bringing her home.
Damian has been a good distraction. Football season is over, so he has more free time, most of which is spent with me. He even offered to let me sleepover his house, but traditional gender roles have made that an impossibility. It would be too awkward.
I've kept in touch with Keaton. He's still optimistic that Ada will return, that this isn't the end of their love story. I wish I was as hopeful. My former calculus teacher's words ring in my ears: It all depends on how she responds to treatment. I know Ada. She's nothing if not strong-willed. She knows she has a gift, and she won't let a bunch of psychiatrists convince her otherwise, even if it costs her her freedom.
To make matters worse, there is only one month left of school. In four short weeks, I won't have my haven to escape to. I'll be stuck at home in our dingy trailer. I'll be stuck with Hank. The very thought makes me want to flunk all my classes on purpose so I'll be forced to attend summer school.
I should look at the bright side, I suppose. My fifteenth birthday was at the end of February—Hank didn't so much as get me a card—and in three years, I'll never have to see my father again. Hell, maybe I'll do what Keaton did and get emancipated when I turn sixteen. Maybe Moira and Damian would let me move in with them.
Maybe I ought to get my head out of the clouds and remember who I am and where I came from. I'm Layla Jean Dodds. I'm trailer trash. I'm worthless. My own mother didn't even want me. Why would the universe let me catch a break?
<><><><><><>
"You okay?"
I gaze up from my book and spot Damian walking toward me. He looks me up and down, his blue eyes filled with concern. I know better than to lie to him—after finding out the truth about Hank, he doesn't take anything I say at face value—but I don't feel like discussing it. He knows I miss Ada. He knows I'm miserable at home. I'm nothing more than a broken record.
"Do you ever wish you were someone else?" I ask, closing my second-hand copy of Fahrenheit 451. "Do you ever wish you were anyone else?"
"I mean, yeah, sometimes," he replies. "There are days when life is great and I feel normal, but then there are days when I remember that I'm a freak, that there is no one else like me. On those days, I really don't like being Damian Forbes."
"Well, I like you, Damian Forbes," I say, placing my hand over his. I don't feel so sorry for myself anymore. "And you're not a freak, by the way. There are others like you. We just haven't met them yet."
"If we haven't met them, how can you be sure they exist?"
"Because they have to. Statistically speaking, you and Ada are not the only super-powered teens walking the earth right now."
"I suppose you're right," he agrees. "You really miss her, don't you?"
I nod my head. "Yeah, I do."
"Is there any way to get in contact with her? Have you talked to Mrs. Fitzpatrick at all?"
"Ada's mom refuses to speak to me. I think she blames me and Keaton for what happened in the graveyard. I'm still mad at myself for walking away from Ada that night."
He exhales an exasperated sigh. "It wasn't your fault, Layla."
"I know, but she could have died." I recall the way her ashy skin glowed beneath the moonlight and shudder. "She took it too far and slipped out of consciousness, and I wasn't there."
"Even if you'd been by her side, could you have stopped her?" Damian questions me. "She was so desperate to figure out the whole... ghost thing that she would have stopped at nothing. She didn't care about her safety. She just wanted answers. As crazy as it sounds, I can relate."
"I guess you can." I cross my arms over my chest and lean back in my chair. "It's just... so final. It really feels as if I'm never going to see her again."
He shrugs his shoulders. "I wish I had an answer for you, but I don't. I'm sorry, Layla."
"Yeah," I say softly, "I'm sorry, too."
<><><><><><>
I walk home alone. Most days, I catch a "ride" with Damian and we journey back to his house. Today, however, I need to be alone. I hope the thirty-minute stroll provides some clarity.
Ada is gone. It's likely that I'll never see her again. She was my friend—one of my best friends—but I can't bring her back. Only the Fitzpatricks can, and they won't. They don't want Ada. They want a daughter that follows the rules and never challenges convention.
They want another Alice.
Hank is a piece of shit, but he's my father. He's blood. If I can at least be civil with him until I graduate, I'll be okay. I've dealt with him for fifteen years. I can handle another three.
But I guess the real question is will I ever be happy? Is my malaise circumstantial, or is this just the way I am?
I put my introspection on pause as I open the door to our trailer. Hank, as usual, is on the couch. His eyes are glued to the TV, his fingers wrapped around a Budweiser. He acknowledges my presence with a wave but says nothing. I keep my mouth shut as well. Not speaking to each other is the best it's ever going to be for us. I'd gladly take silence over the alternative.
I retreat to my room, lock the door, and collapse onto my bed. I don't cry. I haven't cried since Mrs. Fitzpatrick told me she sent Ada away.
My eyelids are heavy, and I allow them to close. When I reopen them, the sun is gone. My room is dark except for the crimson light of my alarm clock, which reads that it's ten-thirty at night. I've been asleep for over seven hours.
As my eyes adjust, I notice something on my bedside table. It's a candy bar—a Charleston Chew, specifically, which are my favorite—and a folded sheet of notebook paper.
"'I got worried when I didn't see you after school,'" I read aloud. "'I figured you were upset and thought chocolate might make you feel better. See you at school tomorrow. Damian.'"
Smiling, I open my treat and take a bite. Even on my worst days, Damian is always there. I don't know what I'd do without him, and I pray I never have to find out.