Archive of Our Own ^beta

First the dark, then the light.

The blinding, relentless, all-consuming light.

I don’t step into it. I am engulfed by it. I drown in it.

I close my eyes.

I still have eyes. I have a body. A mind. A soul.

I’m still me.

The light fades.

I open my eyes and look around. I’m standing in a meadow. I’ve never been here before, but it feels familiar somehow.

It’s warm. The sun is shining above. I breathe in the scent of lilacs.

I’m still breathing. How am I still breathing?

There’s a woman standing nearby. Instinctively, I go to her. She tells me she’s my intake counselor. Her name is Renee Nichols. “Ms. Nichols, to you.”

She welcomes me to the part of heaven that is commonly called the Suicide Sector. I follow her through the meadow and down the lane. We enter a residential area.

Ms. Nichols hands me a key. She gestures to an apartment building behind us.

“You’re in 4D,” she tells me. “I’ll check in with you later.”

I have questions. So many questions.

She’s gone before I can form the words.

I go into the building and take the stairs to the fourth floor. I don’t see anyone, but I hear them. Voices. Laughter. Music.

I keep my head down until I’m in the apartment.

It’s empty when I enter it. That changes quickly. Every time I blink, something new appears. A couch. A blender. A tie-dyed afghan.

It’s perfect. Exactly what I imagined whenever I pictured the kind of apartment I’d have someday.

I find the bedroom in the back. My eyes tear up the instant I open the door.

It’s identical to my room at home.

I collapse on the bed and hug a pillow to my chest.

I stay like that for a very long time.

Ms. Nichols isn’t much help, but I didn’t really expect her to be.

She shows me around the town. She explains how this works. How people shape their own heavens when they die. How the souls we see are ones whose heavens mesh with our own.

I ask her if this is it. I always thought there’d be more to it than this. More judgement, less normalcy.

She says she doesn’t know. No one does.

We just go on like this. It’s all we can do.

I understand.

Sort of.

Not really.

Not at all.

I meet my neighbors. There’s old Mr. Kaiser next door. He hung himself after his wife died.

I ask him where she is now. He stares at me like I just told him I’m a purple hippopotamus named Banana.

Ms. Nichols scolds me when I ask her about it. She says that’s not how this works. People don’t always find each other here. I ask how that can be. If this is heaven and your idea of heaven is being with your wife, then how can you not find her?

She says it has to be mutual. If Mr. Kaiser hasn’t found his wife, then she doesn’t want to be found.

Her words hit me harder than I expect. I think about my family, my friends, the people I left behind. Will they search for me? Will I want them to? I’m honestly not sure.

Mrs. Quinn down the hall has a steady stream of visitors every day. She’s constantly baking and cooking and filling the building with delicious aromas.

I don’t need to eat anymore, just like I don’t need to breathe or sleep or use the bathroom. I still do though. Ms. Nichols says I’ll outgrow those things. The longer I’m here, the less I’ll feel the need to act like I’m still alive.

I don’t know about that. I still feel hungry whenever I smell food. I become dizzy and disoriented if I don’t breathe. I can’t imagine not sleeping. The idea of never stopping to lie down and shut my eyes makes me feel like the walls are closing in around me.

Most of all, I still feel the need for company. I don’t want to be friendless. I don’t want to be alone.

It quickly becomes clear that Ms. Nichols and I are not going to be friends. Mr. Kaiser is out as well, for obvious reasons. Mrs. Quinn is nice, but I can’t imagine talking to her about anything other than the weather or her many, many cats.

Connor Murphy becomes the best candidate by default.

We’re the same age, more or less. He lives across the hall from me. We’re both new to this. Ms. Nichols says he arrived shortly before I did.

It only takes one conversation for me to realize that we have nothing in common. Nothing except for one crucial thing.

We’re the teenagers who slit our wrists.

Connor doesn’t want to be my friend. He makes that clear from the start. I know I should let it go. I should go exploring, look for friends outside the building.

Actually, I don’t even have to go outside. I could just look for friends on other floors. There are two hundred apartments in this building. Surely, there must be someone out there who would be willing to grab the occasional cup of coffee with me.

I can’t seem to stop myself from latching onto Connor though.

Blame it on my public school education. They drilled the buddy system into our heads to the point where the idea of exploring a totally unknown territory on my own seems impossible.

Connor hardly ever leaves his apartment, so I do the only thing I can. I knock on his door at random times throughout the day. Sometimes he answers and tells me to leave him alone. Mostly, he ignores me. I talk to him through the door until Mr. Kaiser tells me to shut up or Mrs. Quinn invites me in for milk and cookies.

Time moves differently here. Hours can be days. Days can be hours.

I don’t know how long it takes for Connor to come around, but I wear him down eventually.

Sort of.

He starts leaving his door cracked open when he’s willing to let me visit.

He doesn’t say much, but that’s not a surprise.

Most days, we sit in silence and watch the world below.

While I’ve been using my TV to watch old sitcoms and Disney movies, Connor has been keeping tabs on his family. He laughs when I tell him I didn’t realize we could do that.

“This is heaven. You can do whatever you want.”

Whatever I want. I don’t know what I want.

We watch as Connor’s family mourns, as they struggle to make sense of what he did. We watch as one of his classmates gets embroiled in their lives and becomes the son his parents always wanted.

This angers Connor. I flinch as he paces the room, shouting and swearing and shaking his fist.

I point out the obvious. I tell him he made his choice, now his family is trying to cope with it.

I leave before he can kick me out.

We don’t speak for days or weeks or months.

I don’t know.

I can’t get a handle on how time works here.

I start to watch my parents. Just a glimpse here and there and then it’s back to reruns of Friends. I can’t bear more than that.

Slowly, gradually, I start wanting to know more. I expand my vision. I watch my classmates as they listen to my tapes. I watch the aftermath. I watch Clay as he becomes my champion.

Clay the Avenger.

He’d like that.

I feel like someone’s squeezing my heart. I change the channel.

I’m sitting on a bench in the park when I see the light.

My eyes squint as I look around. No one else seems to notice it. No one else seems to be questioning why their retinas are being burned.

Maybe this is normal. This is only the third time I’ve gone outside. Maybe this kind of thing happens all the time.

The light subsides and I see him.

I rub my eyes and stare in disbelief.

How is he here? He can’t be here. He’s alive. Or at least he was the last time I last checked.

And, besides, I didn’t agree to see him. Ms. Nichols said it has to be mutual.

Am I so desperate for company that my subconscious signed off on this without my knowledge?

I stand up and go to him.

His mouth drops open when he sees me.

My head tilts skeptically. My surprise is understandable. His isn’t. He must’ve wanted this or he wouldn’t be here.

“Hannah.”

His voice comes out as a cross between a whisper and a croak.

“Alex,” I greet.

“Is it-is it really you?”

“Live and- oh wait, not live-”

“You’re here. I’m here. That must mean I’m-”

“Dead,” I nod. “Yeah, from the looks of it, you must be.”

The sky grows dark as an enormous cloud blocks the sun. The wind shifts and blows like it’s going to rain. I frown. It hasn’t stormed once since I’ve been here. That’s part of why it’s so boring talking to Mrs. Quinn. There are only so many times a girl can discuss how beautiful it is outside before she wants to bash her head against the wall.

Alex flickers in and out. That’s the best way to describe it. I rub my eyes again. They’re not playing tricks on me. At least, I don’t think they are.

“Hannah,” Alex says. His voice sounds distant now. I can barely see him anymore. “I’m so sorry. For everything. Hannah, I’m so-”

The wind suddenly dies down and the clouds disappear.

There’s a crash of thunder. I’m not the only one who jumps.

And, just like that, Alex is gone.

Things on Earth seem to snowball after that.

I sit on the couch with my eyes glued to the screen. The newsfeed on my laptop can barely keep up with it all.

Alex lives.

I watch as he regains consciousness. He babbles at his father and anyone who will stand still long enough to listen. He tells them that he saw me. He tells them I’m in heaven.

They stroke his hair and reassure him that he’s going to be okay.

They don’t believe him.

Most of them can’t even understand him.

After a while, I don’t think he believes himself.

Clay continues his mission. He recruits Tony and Skye to help, but it’s mostly him. I can’t help smiling every time I watch Clay. Where was this level of determination when I was alive?

Jessica tries to recover. She tries to come to terms with everything that’s happened to her. She starts taking self-defense classes and volunteering at a women’s shelter. There are days where she actually seems okay.

Sheri completes her community service in record time and keeps going. I watch as she tells Clay that she really likes helping people.

Zach starts volunteering too. He does it quietly, without telling anyone. Not even his mother. Tony happens upon him at the nursing home one day. Tony’s there visiting his grandmother. Zach stumbles through a lie about having a sick grandfather. He drops the act when he realizes Tony isn’t buying it. Tony promises not to tell.

They’re the easy ones to watch. The comparatively painless ones.

I look in on Courtney from time to time, but my blood boils whenever I do. She hasn’t learned anything from this. Not a thing. I doubt she ever will.

I could say the same about Marcus. I only watch him once. He’s at the gym when I catch up with him. I listen as he mouths off about a girl he thinks wronged him. It makes me sick. I vow to never look at him again.

Ryan is Ryan. There’s something almost comforting about that. He’s always working on the Gazette whenever I find him. Such a work ethic. Someone should give him a cookie.

I don’t know what to make of Tyler. He’s tricky. I get the feeling that he’s up to something, but I can’t put a finger on it. The screen goes black sometimes when I’m watching him. I ask Ms. Nichols about it. She shrugs and says there are some things we aren’t meant to see.

Justin is hard to watch. Not because of anything he’s doing, but because of what he isn’t doing. He disappears for a while. I half-heartedly monitor him as he roams around aimlessly. He comes home eventually and that’s it. He slips back into his old life. He acts like nothing’s changed, but there’s something different about him. He’s quieter, more withdrawn, more serious.

I don’t watch Bryce. I never watch Bryce. If he turns up while I’m watching someone else, I change the channel.

I don’t know how. I don’t know why. I don’t know who to blame, but the tapes are released.

And all hell breaks loose.

They go viral. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. Suddenly, my voice is everywhere. Suddenly, everyone has an opinion about me.

And I do mean everyone. My classmates, my teachers, random people on the internet who have no idea what they’re talking about.

I can’t watch. I try, but it’s too much. I turn off the TV. I shut down my laptop. I hide my phone under the sink.

I need to get out, to go somewhere, to be anywhere but in my apartment.

I end up at Connor’s and we watch his family instead.

We don’t discuss the last time I was there.

I can tell he’s in a bad place. I know he wouldn’t have let me in if he could have handled being alone.

I have to bite my tongue while we’re watching Connor’s sister make out with his classmate. I want to tell him how creepy this is, how uncomfortable it’s making me feel.

I start having flashbacks to my time on Earth. My body begins to shake and I flee from the apartment without saying a word.

I collapse on the floor in front of my couch. I can’t even summon the energy to stand up.

Connor follows me in. I stare at him as he slides down next to me.

He doesn’t speak. We sit there for an eternity.

I’m half-asleep when it starts.

The gnawing in my gut. The relentless gnawing, pulling, is-there-an-alien-in-my-stomach feeling.

Connor’s passed out on the couch next to me. He startles when I jump up.

I’m hysterical. I’m rambling incoherently. Even I don’t know what I’m saying.

Connor calls Ms. Nichols. I can’t make out what they’re talking about.

He hangs up and grabs my shoulders.

“Hannah.”

His voice cuts through me like a knife.

“Hannah, you have to let go. Just let go.”

I shake my head. I don’t understand what he means.

“Let go.”

He repeats the words over and over. We breathe together.

I close my eyes.

I let go.

I’m in the school library.

I blink and look around.

I’m in the library and I’m not sure how I got here.

It takes me a minute to process what I’m seeing. To understand that I’m a ghost.

I’m a ghost.

The thought makes me laugh.

I glance around self-consciously. I expect to find one of my classmates eyeing me, mocking me for laughing like a crazy person.

No one bats an eye.

They’re all on the floor. Most of them are under tables and desks. Someone has moved a bookshelf in front of the door.

I hear whimpers and sobs. Muffled sobs. People keep shushing each other and then other people shush them. It’s a never-ending cycle.

I spot Sheri and Zach. They’re huddled together by the librarian’s desk. Zach is holding her close. Sheri is shaking like a leaf.

Jessica is by the door. Zach keeps motioning for her to get down. She ignores him. I don’t know much about self-defense, but I recognize a fighting stance when I see one. She has a bottle of pepper spray in her hand.

I don’t know how she thinks that’ll work against a gun, but she doesn’t seem to care.

A gun.

Because that’s what this is.

I feel it in my bones.

The first gunshot is fired. The second one quickly follows. Then, the third and the fourth and—

I lose count.

I don’t want to keep counting.

I can’t stay here. I run to the door.

I need Jessica to move, to get down, to hide so I can leave.

Then, I remember that I’m a ghost and I phase through the wall.

It’s quiet outside. Quiet and chaotic all at once. I’ve never experienced anything like it. I never want to feel this way again.

I keep moving. I don’t know where I’m going until I get there.

I phase through the door and burst into the boys’ bathroom.

I know as soon as I see him.

This is why I’m here.

He’s the reason I was pulled into this mess.

There’s so much blood.

Tony’s doing his best to stop it, but we both know his efforts aren’t good enough.

“Damn it, Clay,” Tony grunts. “Stay with me. Come on. Help’s coming. You just have to-”

“I see her,” Clay whispers.

He’s looking right at me. He smiles. I smile back.

“I see Hannah.”

Tony’s eyes widen as he looks up. He’s staring without seeing. “No, no, Clay. Come on.”

Clay takes a deep breath. It rattles out of his lungs.

He closes his eyes.

I disappear.

Connor’s on my couch when I return.

The TV’s on. He’s gaping at it with his head in his hands. He squeezes my arm as I collapse next to him.

We don’t move until it’s over.

Word spreads quickly throughout our building.

This is the most interesting thing to happen here since Mrs. Quinn’s granddaughter made her Broadway debut.

People start showing up at my door. Connor turns them away.

I appreciate his help, but part of me wishes he wasn’t having so much fun telling them exactly what they can do with themselves.

I don’t leave the couch. I flip from channel to channel. Sometimes, I watch the news reports. I scoff at the reporters who are obviously struggling to figure out what happened.

It was Tyler. How is that not clear to them?

Other times, I check in with specific individuals.

I hold my breath while I wait to find out who died. It doesn’t take long for the reporters to start doing their jobs and telling the public what they want to know.

Bryce was the first victim.

He was killed at home. His parents had been keeping him there since the tapes got out.

Several witnesses state that Tyler showed up and shot him point-blank.

The reporters praise the first responders for warning the school. They go on and on about how much worse this could have been if everyone hadn’t had time to hide.

I feel like I’m floating as I listen to the stories about Bryce. Some praise him. They call him an All-American Boy. A star athlete. A young man who had a promising future. Others are more critical. They paint him as a bully. They refer to my tapes and wonder how accurate they really were.

No matter how they spin it, every reporter describes his death as a tragedy.

I start hyperventilating when I realize what this means.

Bryce is dead. He’s dead. He’s no longer on Earth.

I feel like the room is spinning.

Connor abandons his post by the door and perches on the couch next to me. He listens patiently while I attempt to explain why I’m panicking.

I don’t go into details. I can’t bring myself to tell him everything.

He doesn’t seem surprised by my reaction. He even fills in the blanks when I can’t finish my sentences.

That’s when I realize he’s heard the tapes.

Because, of course, he has. They’re everywhere now, even in heaven.

Connor reminds me that Bryce can’t find me here. Even if he wants to, even if it’s the thing he wants most, he can’t find me. Not unless I want to be found.

I calm down a bit.

Connor nudges my shoulder with his own. “Besides,” he says. “I’ll kick his ass if he shows up.”

I don’t know why, but this makes me laugh. It’s not funny. None of this is funny.

I grit my teeth and turn back to the screen.

I don’t recognize most of the victims’ names. A sophomore named Julie. A junior named Kenneth. The new social studies teacher.

Besides Bryce, the only ones I know are Courtney and Tyler himself.

I keep waiting to hear Clay’s name.

Finally, the news reports mention that there were dozens of injuries, but only two victims remain in the hospital. One of them is in critical condition.

The other becomes the heroine of the story. Because every tragedy needs a hero.

Mrs. Bradley was shot through her classroom door after she threw herself against it. The reporters keep going on about her. The selfless, brave teacher whose actions saved her class.

She’s going to be okay.

That’s the general consensus.

She’ll be the face of this when the dust settles.

They don’t mention the other injured victim by name, but I know it’s Clay.

One look at Tony confirms that.

I check on Tony because I don’t think I can handle seeing Clay’s parents just now.

I soon find myself wondering if I made the right call.

Tony’s a wreck. I’ve never seen him like this. It feels wrong to keep watching him. Like I’m intruding on something private.

Connor must agree because he takes the remote from me.

He hits a couple buttons and an old musical comes on.

I raise an eyebrow at him. He shrugs and sinks back into the cushions.

I decide to start haunting the people I left behind.

It’s easier than I expect. I simply close my eyes, picture who I want to see, and let go.

My first instinct is to be with my parents, but I quickly realize it’s too soon for that. I end up trapped in the fetal position in the back of their storeroom. Connor has to send Ms. Nichols to retrieve me.

I take a breather before tracking Alex down in the hospital. I sit on the edge of his bed and stare at him. I wave my arms and shout obscenities. I sing Taylor Swift songs and speak in Pig Latin.

I do everything I can think of to catch his attention.

Nothing works.

He can’t see me.

I don’t know if I’m disappointed or relieved.

If Alex can’t see me, then no one can. I’m sure of that. It’s equal parts terrifying and freeing.

I start roaming around town. I go to Monet’s and watch Skye as she zones out at work. I sit in the pew behind Tony while he prays and proclaims the mystery of faith. I walk by the movie theater and feel like I’m going to be sick.

I close my eyes and I’m back in the hospital. This time, I look for Clay.

Nothing has changed since I saw him on TV earlier. He’s still unconscious. He’s still hooked up to machines. His parents are still camped out in the chairs by his bed, though it looks like they’ve showered and changed their clothes since I last saw them.

I try to read his chart, but it’s at a weird angle and I can’t pick it up. I don’t think I could read the doctor’s handwriting even if I did manage to move it.

I have no idea what’s going to happen to Clay. I couldn’t understand what his doctors were saying when I watched them on TV. It was like they were speaking a different language.

I gather from listening to his parents that he’s going to have surgery soon.

They seem concerned. Very concerned. The kind of concerned where it’s clear they’re not sure he’s going to make it.

I inhale sharply as I digest this information. This isn’t the first time it’s occurred to me that Clay may not survive his injuries.

It’s not the first time I’ve felt something that feels disturbingly like hope.

Hope.

What kind of a monster am I? What kind of a horrible, terrible, self-centered monster am I that I’m standing here hoping Clay doesn’t pull through?

What do I think will happen if he dies? We’ll spend all of eternity together?

Clay doesn’t deserve that. I don’t deserve him.

I focus on his parents. My breath catches and I find myself choking back tears. I can’t wish that life for him. It would crush them to lose Clay. Destroy them.

Just like it nearly destroyed my parents.

I shouldn’t be here. Connor was right. He told me it was a mistake to do this.

I blink myself home.

The building’s quiet when I return. Connor’s door is shut. We get along now. I’d even call him a friend. In some ways, he’s the best friend I’ve ever had. The fact that I know not to bother him when he wants to be alone is one of the keys to our friendship though.

I put my ear up against Mrs. Quinn’s door. I don’t hear anything. No TV, no music, no visitors. I can’t even smell anything baking. For a moment, I wonder if she’s dead.

Then, I realize what I’m thinking and I shake my head and call myself an idiot.

I can faintly hear the sounds of Mr. Kaiser banging around his apartment. I keep going. I’m not that desperate for company.

The streetlights flicker on as I step outside. I make my way to the park and sit on my favorite bench.

As I sit down, I realize I’m in the same place I was when Alex appeared. Coincidence? I don’t know. Probably. What are the odds of Clay finding me here too?

I’m struck once again by my own horribleness.

It feels like there’s ice water in my veins. This isn’t what I thought it would be. I always thought that death meant heaven, heaven meant peace.

I’m not at peace. Not even close.

I’m restless. I’m anguished. I’m scared and lonely and bored and regretting everything.

I try to breathe. I know I don’t actually need to breathe, but it’s so much worse if I don’t.

I have to stop obsessing about what’s happening on Earth.

I need to tell myself what I told Connor all those days or weeks or months ago.

I made my choice, now my family has to cope with it. My friends have to cope with it. I have to cope with it.

I think about Mrs. Quinn and her visitors. There are so many of them that I can’t keep them all straight. Her husband is the only one I know by name. He comes over every day. He lives in a condo in the area commonly referred to as Cancer City. He always brings her a bouquet of flowers or a box of chocolates. Sometimes, he picks up pastries from the bakery on his street. Mrs. Quinn always makes him give me one when he does.

Besides her husband, she has friends. Dozens and dozens of friends who preceded her in death. She has her parents, her brothers, her cousins, and her cats. So many cats. Animal Control would have a field day with her.

She loves showing me photos from her life on Earth. She had such a full life. A happy life. A well-lived life.

I look at her and I think that’s how it’s supposed to be up here. I shouldn’t have come here until I was eighty-six.

Sixteen is too young. Way, way too young.

I really am an idiot. A weak idiot who should’ve been stronger.

I’m only mildly disappointed when I hear that Clay is going to make a full recovery.

I would like to say that I’m not disappointed at all, that I’m totally happy for him, but I have to admit that I experience a brief pang of sadness.

I force it down. I stamp it out. I bury it deep within my mind.

It never disappears completely.

Life goes on. I keep my promise and attempt to stop fixating on what’s happening below.

I watch Clay as he starts to recover. I can’t help it. It’s heart-warming to watch how happy his parents are, how relieved they look when they finally get to take him home. I watch as several of my former classmates rally around him. Sheri stops by every Saturday to chat. Jessica texts him a couple times a week. Tony’s there every day without fail. In the beginning, he says it’s to bring Clay his homework, but he keeps it up even after Clay goes back to school.

After it becomes clear that Clay’s on the mend, I significantly decrease the amount of time I spend watching everyone. I still check in periodically, but I try not to be so connected to my previous life. I try not to worry about how everyone’s doing, how they’re dealing with the mess they’re in, how they’re getting on now that the drama has finally died down.

I start taking art classes. Connor actually agrees to take them with me. He’s surprisingly good at it, but then so am I. It’s one of the few things about heaven that actually feels heavenly.

You can’t be bad at anything you try as long as you put some effort into it.

I spend a lot of time in the park, sketching and painting and people-watching. I let Mrs. Quinn teach me how to bake. I study French and Japanese and, because it makes me laugh, Klingon.

I take up knitting and macramé. I start surfing and scuba-diving and white water rafting.

I dance in my living room and don’t care if I forget to close the curtains.

I read. Connor and I start a book club. It gets to be so popular that we start a second club just for the two of us.

I swim and jog and climb mountains. I learn taekwondo and karate. Connor and I do yoga in the park.

I learn everything I can about the world beyond the Suicide Sector. They say you can only cross the bridge to the other parts of heaven when your mind is ready, when you are truly at peace.

I run past the bridge every day, but I can never fully see it.

I wonder if I ever will.

It’s the one-year anniversary of Connor’s death.

I don’t realize it at first. I just think he’s still mad at me for beating him at Monopoly the other day.

I call him a whiny five-year-old and storm out while he’s still cursing and throwing things at the wall.

Ms. Nichols tells me what’s going on when she stops in to check on him.

I feel stupid when I hear. I should’ve known something was seriously wrong. He hasn’t acted like this in ages. Not since we watched everything implode on his classmate.

I offer to help him visit Earth. He still hasn’t tried it. He keeps saying he haunted his family enough when he was alive.

He thinks about it for a while before he finally agrees. He doesn’t want to see his family. He’s adamant about that. He’s gotten his fill of them by watching TV.

He tells me there’s an orchard he’d like to visit.

We spend the afternoon lying under a tree and watching the clouds go by.

I wake up with fire in my blood.

I’m shaking and kicking and clawing at my covers.

For a second, I forget where I am.

For a second, I wait for my parents to come, for my mother to hug me while she asks if I had a bad dream, for my father to make an awkward joke and laugh at it by himself.

No one comes.

There’s no one here.

I haven’t even blinked myself a cat yet.

I stumble into the living room and pull back the curtains. The sun’s just starting to rise. I watch the colors fill the sky. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, but I can’t enjoy it.

It hits me all at once.

This is the anniversary of my death.

I get dressed and make myself a pot of tea. I’m too jittery for coffee this morning.

I sip it while I scroll through my newsfeed.

I’m all over it.

#HannahBaker

#RememberingHannah

#RIPHannah

They’re all from people I’ve never heard of, people I couldn’t pick out of a line-up to save my life.

One girl wrote a long post about how I was the nicest person she’s ever met because I let her borrow a pencil once and didn’t ask for it back.

Another girl wrote about how gorgeous my hair was and asks if anyone knows what kind of conditioner I used.

On and on it goes, where it stops nobody knows.

I can’t take it anymore. I shut my laptop and turn to the TV.

I tap the remote against my leg while I debate who to watch.

I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the need to check on my parents. I catch them as they’re having their coffee. My mother breaks the silence by telling my father she’ll be ready to go to the grave in fifteen minutes.

The grave.

My grave.

And, just like that, I know where I need to be.

I sit on the ground next to my grave and wait for the visitors to come.

My parents are the first ones to arrive. My mother lays a bouquet of lilacs on my tombstone. She inhales sharply and traces the lettering with her finger.

My parents stand there for a while. Not speaking, not crying. Just staring. My father finally wraps an arm around my mother’s waist. She puts her head on his shoulder. She whispers something to him that I can’t make out. He nods solemnly and they turn to go.

Sheri is the next one to show up. She doesn’t come bearing any gifts. She simply plops down on the grass and starts talking. She tells me all about her life, about her college search, about the classes she’s taking, the volunteer work she’s doing. She tells me that she hopes I don’t mind, but she really likes Clay. She thinks it’s a lost cause though because she’s fairly certain that Tony’s in love with him and she really doesn’t stand a chance if that’s the case. She tells me she thinks she might also like Zach. She blushes and stammers that she hasn’t admitted that to anyone else.

She takes a deep breath and squints up at the sun. I can tell she’s running out of things to say.

She jumps off the ground and stares at my grave. Her eyes start to tear up. She dabs at them with her sleeve and says, “It was good talking to you, Hannah. I hope you’re at peace.”

It’s quiet for a while after she leaves. I see cars drive by in the distance. A few of them stop or slow down. Once or twice, I see people get out and point in the direction of my grave.

Even in death, I’m the train wreck they can’t stop staring at.

I’m lying on my back, watching the wind blow through the trees when I hear footsteps. I sit up and see someone approaching. It takes me a second to identify him because of the hood covering his face.

Zach’s clutching a single yellow rose. He barely looks at my grave as he sets it down.

My eyes narrow as I wait for him to do something. For a second, I think he’s going to pull a Sheri and talk to me.

His mouth snaps shut just as quickly as it opened. His hood falls down and he runs a hand through his hair.

His eyes dart all around as he picks the rose back up. I lean forward to see what he’s looking at.

There’s a ribbon tied around the stem. He picks at it and I see that there’s a piece of paper folded up tightly inside the bow.

A note.

A note for me.

I’m sure of it.

Zach’s jaw sets as he studies it. He lets out a sigh and gently places the rose back down.

He pulls his hood back up as he strides across the lawn.

Jessica and Alex turn up within minutes of Zach’s departure. I wonder if they ran into each other in the parking lot.

Part of me hopes they did and that it was super awkward.

I’m kneeling by Zach’s rose and trying to untie the bow when they arrive.

Ms. Nichols says it’s possible for us to move things on Earth if we concentrate hard enough, but I’ve never managed to succeed. Somehow, my ineptitude really doesn’t surprise me.

I fold my hands in my lap and stare up at my latest visitors.

They’re standing several feet apart, looking at everything except each other. They’re both clutching their Monet’s cups like the coffee can save them from drowning.

“So,” Jessica starts.

“So?” Alex echoes. He clears his throat and digs the tip of his shoe into the ground.

Jessica raises her cup and turns to Alex. “To Hannah.”

“To Hannah,” Alex says. He taps her cup with his own. They both take a sip.

Alex exhales shakily. He closes his eyes for a moment before looking up again. “I saw her, you know.”

Jessica’s head tilts as she scrutinizes his expression. “What?”

“Last year, when I was in the hospital, I, um, I crashed at one point and I-I saw her.”

“You saw Hannah,” Jessica repeats skeptically.

“Yeah,” Alex nods. “Just for a second, a minute, I don’t know.”

“Alex-”

“I know I sound crazy,” Alex sputters. “But, I know what I saw. She-she wasn’t happy to see me.”

He laughs self-depreciatingly and looks at Jessica out of the corner of his eye. For a second, we both expect her to ask if he can blame me.

“Where was she?” Jessica asks instead.

“What?” Alex gulps.

“When you saw her, where was she? Was she, like, a ghost or-”

“I think we were in heaven,” Alex says softly.

Jessica’s eyes blink rapidly and her head drops down. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Alex mumbles.

“That’s-”

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Alex smiles wryly.

Jessica pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know. I want to. I like to think she’s in heaven. That after everything she went through, she’s resting peacefully.”

“Are you-” Alex begins.

Jessica cuts him off with a wave of her hand. “No, we’re not doing that. You’re not asking me how I am. We’re here for Hannah. This doesn’t mean we’re friends again.”

Alex chews his lip and drops his gaze. “Yeah, okay.”

They’re silent for a moment. Alex finishes his coffee and spins the empty cup around in his hand. Jessica’s eyes never leave my headstone.

“I should go,” Jessica finally says.

“Yeah, me too,” Alex agrees.

“Do you need a ride?” Jessica offers. “I saw your dad drop you off.”

Alex shakes his head. “I told him I’d text him when we were done. You can go.”

Jessica doesn’t argue. She gives my grave one more look and turns to leave. “See you.”

“Yeah,” Alex mutters. “See you.”

It’s quiet after Jessica leaves. Alex leans against a tree and plays with his phone until his father arrives.

I circle him silently, then not so silently. I run at him repeatedly and try to grab his phone.

Nothing happens. I don’t manage to move so much as a single leaf on the ground.

He never looks up or gives any indication that he can sense my presence.

I’m not sad to see him drive off in his dad’s cruiser.

They arrive just as the sun begins to set.

Clay and Tony.

My last visitors.

The last ones I’ll see in person at any rate. I don’t think I have the strength to stay on Earth much longer.

They’re each carrying a bouquet of flowers. Clay is wearing a suit. I want to laugh at him, but I know he means well and I can’t help but think it’s a good look on him.

I sit up straight and stare at Clay. I try to determine whether he can see me. I hope he can’t. This feels different than it was with Alex. I don’t want Clay to spend the rest of his life wondering if or when he’ll see me again.

His expression never changes. I settle back down, safe in the knowledge that I am still invisible.

Clay drops to the ground the second he gets to the grave.

Tony gives him a minute before kneeling down too.

They don’t say anything. Clay reaches out and strokes my name. I have to look away for a moment when I see that his eyes are tearing up.

I think about what Sheri said earlier about Tony being in love with Clay. It’s the distraction I need to pull myself out of my sorrow.

Clay’s eyes are glued to my grave. Tony’s eyes are glued to Clay.

I study Tony’s expression. It’s definitely one of concern, but there’s more to it than that.

I’m starting to think Sheri might be more perceptive than I realized.

Or maybe Tony’s just that obvious.

Clay doesn’t notice. Of course, he doesn’t.

By the time Clay looks up, Tony’s face is only registering his worry and sadness.

“I really miss her,” Clay says quietly.

“Me too,” Tony nods. He lets out a breath and puts a hand on Clay’s shoulder.

They don’t say anything else. They just stay there, staring, unmoving as the sun sets around them.

It’s too much.

I look away.

Connor’s sitting at his kitchen table eating cake when I walk in.

He automatically cuts a piece for me and slides it over as I climb onto the stool next to him.

“Mrs. Quinn?” I ask.

“It’s your deathday cake,” Connor explains. “She dropped it off a couple hours ago.”

“No party?” I tease. “I was so sure you’d have a rager going by the time I got back.”

“How was it?” Connor wonders. His mouth is full of cake, so it takes me a second to decipher what he’s asking.

“Fine,” I shrug. “It was fine.”

Connor stares at me like he wants to know more. I can see the moment where he decides not to press and am grateful for it.

“I saw the bridge today.”

I freeze with my fork in mid-air. “What?”

“The bridge. I took a walk this afternoon and I could see it. All of it.”

“You’re still here,” I say slowly. “Did you-”

Connor shakes his head. “I didn’t cross it.”

“Why not?”

“It didn’t feel like it was the right time.”

“They say there are unicorns out there. Don’t you want to see the unicorns?”

“Not really,” Connor smirks.

“But, there are mermaids and dinosaurs and-and Hogwarts. They say you can actually go to Hogwarts.”

“Now that I wouldn’t mind seeing,” Connor says seriously.

“I can’t see it,” I whisper. “The bridge. I can’t see it.”

“I know,” Connor nods.

“I keep thinking I will, but it’s always covered in fog. A really, really dense fog.”

“You’ll get there.”

“How?” I demand. “How’d you get to see it?”

“I don’t know,” Connor says softly. “I couldn’t see it the other day and then today I could.”

“Did you have some kind of revelation? Do some serious soul searching or whatever?”

“Not really. It just appeared.”

“You should go,” I decide.

“What?”

“You should go. You can head out tomorrow. I’ll water your plants while you’re gone.”

“I don’t have any plants.”

“Oh,” I shrug. “Well, I’d water them if you did.”

“Do plants even need to be watered here?”

“You’re changing the subject. Why don’t you want to go?”

“Well,” Connor starts. He taps his finger on the counter and turns to look me in the eye. “For starters, I’d really prefer travelling with my best friend to travelling alone.”

I stare at him for a moment. I can feel the smile spreading across my face. “I’m your best friend?”

“By default,” Connor retorts. “Don’t get cocky. You’re the only friend I’ve ever had.”

I try and fail to suppress my grin. “I’m your best friend.”

Connor frowns and jabs his fork at my plate. “Are you going to finish that?”

“Are you seriously trying to stop your best friend from finishing her deathday cake?”

“I’ve changed my mind. I think I will leave tomorrow and never come back.”

I push my plate to him. “Here, fine, since we’re best friends and all…”

Connor raises an eyebrow at me.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re my best friend too.” I steal a bite off my plate before he can stop me. “And not just by default.”

Connor looks down quickly, but he’s not fast enough to prevent me from seeing his smile.

It’s late. I don’t know the exact time on Earth. In heaven, it’s past midnight.

I know it’s late down there because I saw the sun set three subjects ago.

They’ve been camped out in Tony’s garage for hours.

Finals are coming. Graduation is looming closer and closer.

Apparently, it’s been months since I last watched them. It feels like weeks to me.

I don’t think I’ll ever make sense of the time difference.

Clay is sitting on a table quizzing Tony while he works on his car. There are notecards and textbooks and empty take-out containers spread out all over the place.

“Separation of Powers,” Tony says with a roll of his eyes. “Come on, Jensen. Give me a tougher question than that. Something from the footnotes. You know Ms. Wilson loves taking her questions from the footnotes.”

Clay exhales so sharply that it comes out as a hiss. He frantically flips through the text and curses when it nearly falls to the floor. His face turns red as he slides it back into his lap.

“Something on your mind, Clay?” Tony asks. His tone is light, but I can see the concern in his eyes. “You want to take a break?”

“No,” Clay shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” Clay taps the textbook for a minute. “Describe the impact of PACs on the electoral process.”

“We’re doing essays now?” Tony raises his eyebrows at Clay. “That escalated fast.”

“Is that your way of saying you don’t know the answer?”

“I know it. Do you? You want to switch off for a while? You haven’t taken a turn all night. I’m starting to get the impression you think I need to study more than you do.”

“You said it, not me,” Clay shrugs.

“Damn, Jensen,” Tony chortles. “Okay, break time. Are there any egg rolls left or did you eat them all?”

“I saved you one.” Clay hands it over after Tony washes his hands.

Tony climbs up next to him and bumps their shoulders together. “So, you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“The thing that’s been eating at you all night,” Tony says.

“Nothing’s eating at me,” Clay insists. Tony doesn’t look away until Clay continues, “I ran into Brad today.”

“Brad?”

“Yeah.”

“My ex, Brad?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Tony says slowly. “I didn’t realize he was back in town.”

“Well, he is. Or was today, at least. I saw him when I went to the store with my mom this afternoon.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“For a minute,” Clay replies hesitantly.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Come on, Clay,” Tony sighs. “What happened? Did he say something or…?”

“He asked how you are.”

“Is that all?”

“Pretty much,” Clay nods.

“Then, what-”

“Why’d you guys break up anyway?”

Tony tilts his head in confusion. “Because he was leaving for college. I told you that.”

“But, you really liked him. And he obviously still likes you. You didn’t want to try the long-distance thing?”

“He’s going to school six hours from here. We just felt like we were moving in different directions. It was amicable. There isn’t a villain in our story.”

“So.” Clay shuts his eyes for a second. I can tell he’s trying to work up the courage to continue. “So, it didn’t have anything to do with me?”

“With you?” Tony’s mouth drops open. “Did he say it did?”

“Not in so many words, but-”

“What did he say exactly?”

“I don’t remember his exact words.”

“Then, paraphrase.”

Clay shakes his head and stands up. “Forget I said anything. It’s late. I should get home.”

“I thought you were spending the night.”

“Oh, um, no.” Clay runs a hand through his hair and starts gathering up his belongings. “I forgot my dad and I have a thing tomorrow.”

“What thing?”

“I don’t know. Some father-son thing. He wants to leave bright and early.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“I have my bike.” Clay waves his helmet for emphasis.

“Are we still on for tomorrow? English Lit, right?”

“I think the thing with my dad will take up most of the day,” Clay says apologetically. “I’ll text you if I get home early.”

“Text me when you get home tonight,” Tony demands. “You sure you don’t want me to take you? It’s pretty dark out there.”

“I’ll be fine,” Clay assures him.

Tony follows him to the door and watches as he speeds off into the night.

It’s like I’m a junkie who’s rediscovered her favorite drug.

I can’t stop watching them.

I’ve been so good lately. I’ve only been performing welfare checks on my friends and family. I’ve been careful to tune in just long enough to make sure that everyone’s still alive and well.

That’s out the window now.

I blame Connor. I wouldn’t have gotten sucked into watching Tony and Clay if he hadn’t cancelled our plans last night.

I tell him this when he shows up to see if I want to go get ice cream.

He rolls his eyes when he looks at my TV. He warns me that I’m heading down a slippery slope again, but then he ends up joining me on the couch.

Neither of us can look away.

Tony meets Brad at Monet’s.

We watch as they make awkward, but cordial small talk. Tony talks about his classes and his plans for next year. Brad waxes poetic about his boyfriend Josh. This goes on long enough that Connor starts to get restless. Finally, Tony gets to the heart of the matter.

“So, I heard you saw Clay yesterday.”

“I ran into him at Harris’s,” Brad nods. He breaks his scone in half and offers part to Tony.

Tony shakes his head. “What did you say to him?”

Brad’s eyes narrow defensively. “What do you mean?”

Tony sighs and shifts around in his seat. “I mean, I got the feeling you said something that kind of freaked him out.”

Brad lets his breath out in a huff. “Yeah, I was sort of under that impression too.”

“What’d you say?” Tony demands.

“Nothing much,” Brad shrugs. He gazes down at his hands. “I, uh, I just asked him if you guys had figured things out yet. He didn’t get what I meant, so I, uh, explained it to him.”

“You what?” Tony stares at the ceiling disbelievingly.

Brad’s ears turn red and he stretches out his fingers. “I also may have said something about how it was a shame that we’d broken up then, when he said you weren’t dating.”

“Brad,” Tony hisses.

“I know, I know.” Brad hangs his head sadly. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I just… My mom’s in the hospital. That’s why I’m home this weekend. She’s sick and it doesn’t look good. I’ve been on edge lately and then seeing Clay… I shouldn’t have said those things. I know that. I knew it while I was saying it. If I could go back and unsay it, I would in a heartbeat.”

Tony doesn’t say anything for a minute. He stares blankly at the counter until Skye flips him off and brings him back to reality.

“I’m sorry about your mom. I always liked her.”

“Thanks,” Brad says softly.

“I’ll keep her in my prayers,” Tony promises.

Brad nods. “So, did I ruin things between you and Clay?”

“I don’t know, man,” Tony sighs. “I don’t know.”

The scene changes and we’re watching Clay now. It happens automatically. That’s something I’ve noticed about my TV. The more I watch, the more instinctive it gets.

Clay’s lying on his bed, bouncing a tennis ball on the ceiling. He startles when someone knocks on his door. His voice cracks when he yells that it’s open.

His father pokes his head in. “You up?”

“Yeah,” Clay nods. He sits up and swings himself around to face his dad.

“So,” Mr. Jensen says as he steps into the room. “You want to tell me why I just had to lie to Tony?”

“What?” Clay’s face scrunches up in confusion.

“Tony just came around looking for you. He asked how our father-son outing was. Now, I know my memory isn’t what it used to be, but I don’t remember doing anything special with you this morning.”

“Oh, yeah, um-” Clay stammers.

Mr. Jensen throws up a hand to cut him off. “It’s okay. I got you. I told him you were up here napping since I dragged you out at the crack of dawn to go fishing.”

“Fishing? Really?”

“What? We could go fishing. Your granddad and I used to fish all the time.”

“We don’t have any rods here,” Clay points out.

“Well, Tony doesn’t know that, does he?”

“I guess not,” Clay shrugs.

“So, what’s up? You guys get in a fight or something?”

“Or something,” Clay confirms.

“You want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay,” Mr. Jensen nods. “Well, just remember that I’m the cool dad who has your back. I’ll be downstairs if you want to rant about whatever injustice you feel Tony has inflicted upon you.”

“Oh, yeah, I know,” Clay nods solemnly. “I know you’re the cool dad. The coolest.”

Mr. Jensen winks as he walks back out the door. “And don’t you forget it.”

Time goes on.

On Earth, not for us.

It’s like we’re watching a movie now and this is the montage sequence.

I try and fail to make sense of it. The only thing I can come up with is that maybe this is what I want to see.

Or need to see.

I don’t know what to think anymore.

The scenes flitter by quickly.

Clay’s at his locker and hurries to class when he sees Tony coming.

Tony tries to catch up with Clay during lunch, but Clay inserts himself into a conversation between Sheri and Jessica.

Clay brings Skye with him when Tony finally manages to coerce him into grabbing dinner.

Then, finals start and everyone’s stress levels skyrocket.

Sheri asks Clay if it’s true that colleges rescind acceptance letters for students who don’t pass their exams.

Alex struggles to get through his tests. It’s obvious his head hasn’t been quite right since his suicide attempt. He’s clearly panicking about the idea of being held back.

Jessica buckles down and powers through her exams. I can tell she’s determined to put high school behind her.

Ryan seems more concerned about his last issue of the Gazette than he does about his finals.

Zach, Justin, and Marcus compare answers after every test. They try to be subtle about it, but I get the feeling that even they are worried about their results.

Exams are over. The sense of relief is so strong that Connor and I can feel it through the screen.

We watch as my former classmates attend graduation practice. It’s pretty boring, to be honest, so we decide to start playing Go Fish.

We’re on our tenth game when practice lets out. I watch Clay as he finally gets around to packing up all his things. Most of the seniors took their stuff home days ago, but not Clay. He’s one of the few people we see walking out of the building loaded down with bags and boxes and posters.

Clay nearly drops them all when he spots Tony leaning against a tree outside. His eyes dart around frantically, but he can’t seem to find an easy way out of this.

“Hey, Clay,” Tony says smoothly as Clay draws closer. “You need a ride?”

“Oh, uh, no,” Clay shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“You’re not planning to take all that crap on your bike, are you?”

“I rode with Skye today,” Clay tells him. “Have you seen her? She said she’d meet me outside.”

Skye chooses that moment to exit the building. Tony notices her a second before Clay does and subtly shakes his head.

A slightly evil grin spreads across Skye’s face as she lifts her arm and calls, “Later, boys!”

Clay opens his mouth to protest, but she hightails it to the parking lot before he can form the words.

“So?” Tony grins. “Shall we?”

Clay sighs and reluctantly follows Tony to his car.

They ride in silence for several minutes. Tony doesn’t even put the radio on.

Clay stares blankly out the window until the car comes to a stop. He looks around in alarm as he realizes that they’re nowhere near his house.

“Why are we stopping?” Clay asks cautiously.

“We need to talk,” Tony says firmly.

Clay blinks and looks down. “My mom’s expecting me to come straight home. I’m supposed to help her address my graduation announcements.”

“So, text her and tell her you’re running late.”

“I don’t want to leave her hanging.”

“Clay,” Tony says edgily. “You’ve been avoiding me for the last two weeks.”

“I haven’t been avoiding-”

“You have,” Tony insists. “I’ve put up with it because I know you’ve been stressed with finals and all, but we need to talk about this.”

Clay nods and slumps down in his seat. “Okay, fine, talk.”

“Aren’t you going to text your mom?”

“Uh, no, I don’t really-” Clay sheepishly touches the back of his head. “I think she said she wasn’t going to be home until nine, actually.”

Tony laughs humorlessly and shakes his head. “Right. Okay, let’s take a walk then.”

Clay opens the door and follows him out, even though it’s clear this is the last thing he wants to do right now.

They’ve pulled over by a wooded area a couple miles from school. Tony leads the way through the trees and they settle down on a bench overlooking a stream.

“So, you and Skye? Are you going out now?” Tony asks conversationally.

“What?” Clay jumps in surprise. “No. We’re friends. Just friends. She has a boyfriend. You know that guy Vince? The barista with the beard? They’ve been going out for about a month.”

“I knew they went out a couple times,” Tony nods. “Didn’t know it was official though.”

“Well, it is.”

“Are you disappointed?”

“That Skye has a boyfriend?” Clay squints at him. “Why would I be disappointed?”

“I don’t know, Clay,” Tony chuckles. “You tell me.”

“I’m not. I’m happy for her. She deserves a good guy in her life.”

“She does,” Tony agrees. “And what about you? You seeing anyone?”

“You know I’m not,” Clay sputters. “Why the sudden interest in my love life? I thought you wanted to talk about-”

Clay cuts himself off and shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it.

“About?” Tony prods gently.

“Skye said you had coffee with Brad recently,” Clay continues.

“I did,” Tony nods.

“So, you know what he told me,” Clay says uncertainly.

“I do,” Tony confirms.

“Well?” Clay looks at him expectantly.

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to deny it?”

“Do you want me to deny it?”

Clay bites his lip while he thinks about this. “I want you to tell me the truth.”

“Then, no, I’m not going to deny it.”

“I was the reason you and Brad broke up?” Clay’s voice trembles slightly. He grips the edge of the bench and looks down at the stream.

“You were a factor,” Tony replies slowly. “Not the entire reason, but, yeah, Brad figured out how I feel about you. It became pretty obvious after the shooting. We limped along for a while after that, but it wasn’t the same. Then, he left for school and we had an easy way out.”

“Oh,” Clay whispers. He swallows audibly and lets his head fall into his hands.

“I’m sorry if that freaks you out, but you said you wanted the truth.”

“I did,” Clay mutters into his hands. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Tony says shakily.

It’s unnerving seeing him like this. The Tony I knew was always so calm, so sure of himself. Now, he looks like one more word from Clay will make him fall apart. Connor picks up on it too. I grin as I hear him mumble, “Oh, come on.”

“And you say I’m hooked?” I raise my eyebrows at him.

Connor shushes me and gestures at the screen.

Clay takes a breath and straightens back up. “So, now what?”

Tony looks at him oddly. “Well, that's kind of up to you.”

“It’s up to me?” Clay repeats. His forehead furrows as he tries to comprehend this idea.

“Well, yeah.” Tony stares at him in amazement. “What did you think was going to happen? I’m not going to pressure you or force you into something you don’t want, Clay. That’s not what this is about. You’re my best friend. I just felt like we needed to address what you heard or we wouldn’t be able to go on being best friends.”

“Right, good point,” Clay nods.

“Do you have any questions or-”

“How long?”

Tony’s eyes widen slightly. “How long have I liked you?”

“Yeah,” Clay says. He looks at Tony quickly and continues, “Shit. That was too personal, wasn’t it? You don’t have to answer that. I don’t know what I’m saying here.”

“Since we were fourteen, I think,” Tony replies thoughtfully. “I don’t know. That’s when I first noticed it at least.”

Clay looks like a feather could knock him over. “Oh.”

“Anything else?”

“But, you dated Ryan and-and Brad. You mean you-”

“It just became this thing that was in the back of my mind. It was easier before-” Tony swallows uncomfortably. “Before Hannah. Before we started spending so much time together.”

“I’m sorry,” Clay squeaks.

“Why are you apologizing?” Tony shakes his head at him. “This is my thing. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But, if I’d known-”

“You would’ve what? Pushed me away? Tried to go through all this shit on your own? You needed me, Clay, and I needed you. I needed a friend too. In case you didn’t notice, the last two years have been seriously messed up.”

“That’s an understatement,” Clay points out.

“Seriously fucked up then,” Tony smirks. “Does that sound better?”

“Much,” Clay laughs.

“Yeah, well,” Tony grins. I can tell he’s relieved by the fact that Clay’s laughing. He turns and looks Clay straight in the eye. “So, are we good?”

Clay nods automatically. “We’re good.”

“You’re not going to go back to avoiding me, are you?” Tony says it jokingly, but his eyes make it clear the idea isn’t the slightest bit funny to him.

“No, no, of course not.” Clay shakes his head adamantly. “I know I’ve been kind of a jerk the last couple weeks. I… I just had my own stuff to work out.”

“You did?” Tony tries to keep his tone neutral, but I can tell his heart is racing.

“Yeah,” Clay huffs.

“Like what?” Tony wonders.

Clay bites his lip and looks down. “I, uh-”

He closes his eyes for a second and slumps down in his seat.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Tony offers. “We can leave or-”

“No,” Clay decides. He clears his throat and sits up a bit straighter. “I can do this.”

Tony looks at him quickly, but seems to decide that maintaining eye contact might not be the best way to get Clay to keep talking.

“Well, as I’m sure you can tell, I, uh, kind of freaked out a bit after I saw Brad. I almost bailed on you that night, but my parents were having a dinner party and there was no way I was staying home for that. So, then, I decided I wasn’t going to say anything to you about Brad, but you kept asking and I knew I couldn’t completely avoid the subject.”

Clay puffs out his cheeks and shoves his hands in his pockets. The words tumble out of him even faster than before when he starts speaking again.

“I ended up taking off because I couldn’t deal. I kept thinking about it though. Obsessing, really. I kept trying to figure out if he was telling the truth or if he was just bitter about your break-up. Then, I started feeling guilty. I kept trying to guess what I’d done to make him think I was his competition. I, uh, I started feeling like I shouldn’t hang out with you so much. I didn’t want any future boyfriends you might have to feel threatened.”

Clay lets out a breath and blinks several times. I can tell he’s nervous and feel kind of proud when he finds the strength to go on.

“But, then, I started thinking about how much that would suck. The thought of not seeing you all the time made me feel… I don’t know. It sucked.”

“I get that,” Tony nods encouragingly.

“So, I, uh, I tried to come up with ways to fix this. My first thought was that I should find a girlfriend. You know, that way your boyfriend wouldn’t see me as a viable option.” He makes a face like the idea of being a viable option feels foreign to him.

“But, that’s easier said than done. Especially in my case. And I really haven’t felt anything for any of the girls at school since Hannah. Not even during the whole thing with Sheri. Especially during the whole thing with Sheri.”

Clay’s quiet for a minute. He swings his feet restlessly and gazes at the stream.

Tony watches him anxiously. “Okay, so, what’d you come up with then?”

“I started thinking that if Brad was right, if he wasn’t making shit up, then maybe we should try what he said,” Clay whispers. He flinches like he can’t believe he just said that, but he doesn’t take it back.

“Try what?” Tony frowns. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Yeah,” Clay nods uneasily.

Tony tries to study his expression, but Clay doesn’t make it easy for him. Tony sighs and gives up attempting to make eye contact.

“Clay, do you realize what you’re suggesting? Dating would change things between us. It wouldn’t just be something where we keep going on like we have been, but we start adding the word ‘boy’ in front of the word ‘friend’ when we introduce each other to people.”

“Yeah, I know,” Clay blinks.

“There’s more to it than that. A lot more. Is that really something you want or are you just, I don’t know, scared of losing your best friend?”

“I know what a relationship between us would entail. I… I’ve looked stuff up. I was once a curious thirteen-year-old, you know. Ask my dad if you don’t believe me. He had the honor of having that talk with me after my mom saw my browser history.”

“You don’t know how to clear your browser history?” Tony chuckles.

“I do now. I wasn’t good at covering my tracks back then.”

“So, you’ve looked stuff up,” Tony shrugs. “Lots of people have. Does that kind of stuff even appeal to you?”

“As much as any of it does, I guess,” Clay says. “I’ve never really felt the need to label myself. I mean, I definitely like girls and I’ve liked the, uh, experiences I’ve had with them so far, but I don’t know. I have eyes. I can tell when a guy’s attractive. I can understand the, uh, appeal.”

“Do you find me attractive?”

“Tony-”

“It’s a valid question and you know it.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I do have eyes.” Clay scratches his neck and shifts in his seat. “What about you?”

“Are you asking me if I find you attractive?”

“It’s a valid question,” Clay smirks.

Tony rolls his eyes. “With an obvious answer.”

“Maybe to you, but I don’t get it. You’ve liked me since we were fourteen? Why? We weren’t that close until last year. I mean, we’ve always been friends. I know I’ve considered you one of my closest friends since middle school, but-”

“You’re not exactly Mr. Popular.”

“And you are?”

“I’m not saying I am,” Tony shrugs.

Clay nods and chews on his lip. “Fair enough.”

“I just…” Tony sighs and puts a hand on the back of the bench. “I liked you, you know. You’re nice and funny and smart and kind of weird.”

Clay scoffs at the word ‘weird.’

“Come on, even you must realize that’s true.”

Clay shrugs, but there’s a smile on his face.

“You’ve always been different from the other guys. You actually care about people, not just what they think of you.” Tony tilts his head up to the sun. “Does that answer your question?”

“I guess,” Clay says uncertainly.

They sit in silence for a minute. It’s somehow awkward and comfortable at the same time.

“Are you sure about this?” Tony finally asks.

“I already said I was.”

“But-”

“Seriously, Tony, do you think I haven’t given this any thought? It’s pretty much all I’ve been thinking about lately. I’m blaming you if I failed any of my finals.”

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t been avoiding me, we could’ve studied-”

“Oh, shut up,” Clay snaps.

Tony chuckles and shakes his head in disbelief. “This is not how I thought this conversation was going to go.”

“What did you think was going to happen?”

“I don’t know. Not this.”

“So, what, you thought you would just tell me you’ve been pining for me for the last four years and-”

“I have not been pining for you,” Tony interjects defensively.

“That you’ve liked me for the last four years,” Clay corrects.

“Better,” Tony nods approvingly.

“And I’d say, ‘good to know, now let’s go to Monet’s and bug Skye?’” Clay finishes.

“Something like that.”

“I sound like a real asshole in your head.”

“You said it, not me.”

“Is it too late for me to change my mind?”

Tony smiles and takes his hand. “Yeah, I kind of think it is.”

The screen goes black.

For a second, I think we’re heading into another montage sequence.

I wait to see their first date, first kiss, second kiss, first kiss in the rain.

And so on and so on.

Then, I realize that Connor has seized the remote and turned the TV off.

I raise an eyebrow at him. He raises one in return.

“So, in your opinion, what’s creepier – watching your sister make out with someone or watching your ex move on?”

“Clay’s not my ex,” I say automatically.

Connor gives me a pointed look and shakes his head.

“We were never together. Not really, anyway,” I point out softly.

Connor squeezes my shoulder and asks if I’m ready to get ice cream.

I only hesitate a moment before agreeing to go.

We’re halfway down the stairs when I turn to him and say, “The sister thing, by the way. So much creepier than watching my sort of ex.”

I try not to tune in much after that.

As with all addictions though, I have to wean myself off my drug of choice.

I watch graduation. It’s bittersweet. On the one hand, it’s good to see that everyone made it through high school relatively unscathed. Even Alex manages to get his diploma.

On the other hand, I can’t stop thinking that I should be there with them.

There was a lot of talk about doing something to honor the deceased students during graduation, but there was too much controversy surrounding it. Would they have to include Tyler? And what about Bryce? He’s still a hot topic down there. People are still trying to figure out his true character.

And what about me? Would they look like they were supporting what I did if they memorialized me during the ceremony?

I happened to catch Clay giving a passionate speech in front of the planning committee the day before graduation. He argued that I should be given an honorary posthumous degree.

His words fell on deaf ears. They simply thanked him for his time and sent him on his way.

I’m not entirely sure why he bothered trying. I didn’t have nearly enough credits to graduate when I died. And I don’t think it would’ve meant all that much to my parents. If anything, I think it would’ve angered them. They put the school and all their issues with it behind them once they won their lawsuit.

I get the feeling that Clay is still being motivated by guilt.

Guilt over not realizing I was in trouble.

Guilt over not helping me when I needed it.

Guilt over his part, inconsequential as it was, in my decision to die.

And, now, guilt over finally moving on.

And he is moving on.

I knew it that day they sat by the stream and I continue to realize it every time I tune in.

I don’t watch much. Just a minute here and there.

Or maybe five or ten.

Never more than fifteen minutes at a time.

I really am trying to be better.

I watch as they tell Skye about the change in their relationship. She laughs and asks them if they’re also there to tell her that ice is cold.

I watch as they go to Sheri’s graduation party together and no one bats an eye.

I watch as they subtly and then not-so-subtly find reasons to touch each other.

I only catch them kissing once. It’s clearly not their first one though, unless they’ve somehow managed to have the least awkward first kiss in the history of the universe.

It wouldn’t shock me if they did.

They sort of flow together. They still bicker and tease and push each other’s buttons, but it’s obviously working for them. It all seems so natural that I can’t help wondering if this was always going to happen.

Not for the first time, I find myself thinking about how things would’ve worked out with Clay if I hadn’t killed myself.

Would I be the one holding his hand under the table while we had dinner with his parents?

Would I be the one he dragged to the latest comic book movie?

Would we ever have officially gotten together? Would we have stayed together if we did?

Maybe we would’ve become one of those couples that grows old together and eventually starts to look scarily alike.

Maybe we would’ve broken up after dating for only a month.

Maybe he would’ve crushed me, just like everyone else did.

Then I wonder who I think I’m kidding with that one? I was always going to be the heartbreaker in that relationship.

Summer flies by in heaven and on Earth.

I watch as my former classmates get ready to leave for college. It’s strange to think about the fact that they’re going to be scattered all over the place. That all those relationships and friendships and feuds they cultivated in high school will soon be in the past.

Soon, none of it will matter anymore. Not in their day-to-day lives, at least.

I watch as Clay hugs Tony goodbye before he gets in the car with his parents.

Judging by the looks they’re giving each other, you’d think his college is a lot farther than two hours away.

Tony is staying in town to work at the garage. He’s planning to take some classes at the local community college and has recently started mentioning the possibility of transferring to Clay’s school next year.

Because, of course, it’s no surprise that they’re going to try to maintain a long-distance relationship while Clay’s gone.

There isn’t a doubt in my mind that they’ll make it work.

College, as it turns out, is the perfect cure for my addiction.

It doesn’t take me long to lose interest in my classmates’ lives.

I keep an eye on them in the beginning, but the amount of time I spend in front of the TV decreases rapidly as the semester goes on.

It’s harder than I expect to watch them go on with their lives and experience things that I will never experience.

When I do tune in, I can’t stop wondering how I would be handling the things they’re going through.

Maybe I would’ve been like Sheri and pledged a sorority straightaway.

Maybe I would’ve been like Jessica and found myself seriously considering joining the Peace Corps.

Maybe I would’ve been like Alex and decided to take some time off while I regrouped.

Maybe I would’ve skipped college like Justin and gotten a full-time job instead.

Maybe I would’ve been like Zach and totally flourished when I got to college.

Maybe I would’ve been like Ryan and been shaken when I felt like all my beliefs were being turned upside down.

Maybe I would’ve been like Marcus and panicked when I realized that I didn’t actually want to pursue the thing I’d always planned on pursuing.

Of course, that one would’ve required me to have had an active goal in mind when I died.

That’s the thing that bothers me the most.

I can’t picture who or what I would’ve been if I’d lived.

I cut myself off before I had a chance to find out.

I’m out for a run one day when I finally see it.

It’s just an ordinary day. On Earth, I think it’s December. I’m not exactly sure. I haven’t really been paying attention to things down there lately.

I’ve barely checked on anyone since my second anniversary.

Suddenly, I get what Connor meant when he told me he didn’t know why he could see it now.

I haven’t done anything special. Nothing unusual. I haven’t tried meditating or drinking fancy teas or anything like that.

I haven’t had any major, afterlife-changing revelations.

It’s just there.

The bridge.

I run home to tell Connor.

We leave the next day.

We feel like a couple of kids backpacking through Europe.

Except, instead of backpacks, we each have a bottomless, weightless messenger bag that we can use to carry everything we want to take with us.

It’s kind of fitting that we decide to make Hogwarts our first stop.

We stay there for a while. Maybe a year. I’m not sure. It flies by in the blink of an eye.

From there, we head to the coast and swim with the mermaids. Then, we go up into the mountains to look for Bigfoot, who, as it turns out, is actually super friendly.

We travel far and wide. Sometimes together, sometimes alone.

It really is an amazing place. Anything you can imagine, anything you want to see can be found.

I think back to what Ms. Nichols told me about people shaping heaven with their visions. It feels like I haven’t even begun to scrape the surface of what’s up here.

I decide I want to see it all and won’t settle for anything less.

It starts as soon as I doze off.

I try to ignore it because this is the first time I’ve been home in forever and I really just want to take a nap.

The gnawing feeling in my gut has a mind of its own though.

It’s different from the other times this has happened to me. It doesn’t feel like I’m on fire or like there’s an alien bursting out of my stomach.

It’s more annoying than anything else.

It’s like my body’s trying to say ‘hey, there’s somewhere you might want to be.’

I reluctantly close my eyes and let go.

I blink and look around. I’m in a hospital room. I can tell that right away.

A chill runs through my body when I see them.

There are three chairs gathered around the bed. My father, Clay, and Tony are sitting in them. My mother is the one lying down.

Something catches in my throat when I see her. She’s so pale, so thin, so weak. Has it really been that long since I checked in?

My father is holding her hand. His eyes seem incapable of leaving her face. He looks like he’s aged a decade since the last time I saw him.

I really don’t think it’s been that long though. Tony and Clay look like they’re in their late-twenties. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s probably been two, maybe three, years since I watched their wedding.

I sit on the edge of my mother’s bed and stare at her. I don’t know what disease has taken hold of her body, but I’m fairly certain she won’t be suffering much longer.

“So,” Clay says gently. He clears his throat and looks down. I can tell he’s uncomfortable breaking the silence. “We actually came here to ask you something.”

Tony nods and chimes in, “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but our surrogate is due any day now.”

“That’s wonderful,” my mother says. I can tell it’s hurting her to smile, but she does it anyway. “You two are going to be such wonderful parents.”

Clay exchanges a quick look with Tony before continuing, “We’ve been racking our brains trying to come up with a name we can both agree on and there’s really only one that fits the bill.”

“That’s why we were wondering if you’d give us your blessing to name her Hannah,” Tony finishes.

My parents are quiet for a moment. Then, my mother’s eyes start tearing up and she nods. Over and over again, she nods.

“I think that’s your answer,” my father says. He squeezes her hand and I can see that there are tears forming in his eyes too.

Clay smiles softly and looks down.

This time, it’s Tony that breaks the silence. “Thank you, really. I was afraid I’d have to talk this one-” He jerks a thumb in Clay’s direction. “-out of calling her Leia.”

“I still say that’s a perfectly acceptable name,” Clay retorts.

“We are not naming our daughter after a Star Wars character,” Tony shakes his head.

“I always thought it would be fun to have twins and name them Luke and Leia,” my father says thoughtfully.

“That’s the dream,” Clay sighs.

Tony rolls his eyes, but there’s no mistaking the affection in his expression.

Connor’s waiting for me when I get back. I hug him and ask about his trip to Narnia.

He shrugs, but I can tell it must have been pretty great.

We sit at my kitchen table and eat the brownies Mrs. Quinn made in honor of my homecoming.

It takes us a while to catch each other up on everything going on in our lives. I try to remember the last time I saw him in person. It’s been a few months. Maybe a year. Maybe two.

I think I’ve given up trying to tell time up here.

I try not to get upset as I tell him about my mother. I wonder what will happen if she dies. I ask him if he’s figured out how to find people in heaven.

He says he recently tracked down his great-grandfather who died when he was two. “It’s really easy,” he tells me. “You just close your eyes and picture the person you want to see.”

I nod, but I’m not sure. I hope it really is that simple.

Connor pulls out his phone and shows me pictures of his new nephew. “Jacob Connor Hansen,” he says proudly.

“You got the middle name!” I exclaim.

“I guess I did,” Connor grins.

“We should try to find a way to introduce him to Clay and Tony’s daughter,” I decide excitedly. “Hannah Maria Jensen-Padilla.”

“You got the first name,” Connor laughs.

“Yep,” I smirk. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“You win?”

“I win.”

I’m not asleep when it starts this time, but I may as well be. It’s that disorienting.

I can’t breathe. I know I don’t actually need to breathe, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

It feels like I’m drowning, like I’m sinking to the bottom of the ocean. I kick my legs and dig my fingers into the sofa cushions.

Somehow, in the midst of all this, I manage to blink and find my way to her.

The machines are beeping like crazy. I’m vaguely aware of the fact that my father’s standing in the hallway. The doctors push past him to get into the room. He drops his coffee and—

I can’t watch.

I can’t think about what this means for him.

That’ll come later, once things settle down.

Right now, she’s the one who needs me.

I’m there the second her soul leaves her body. I grab onto her. I’m not sure if that’s allowed, but I can’t help myself.

“Mom,” I whisper.

Her eyes widen as she turns to face me. “Hannah,” she chokes out.

I fall into her arms. She squeezes my shoulders, my arms, my back, even my hair. It’s like she can’t stop touching me.

“Mom, I’m so sorry,” I manage to croak. “I’m-”

“Shh,” she murmurs. “It’s okay.”

“I’m supposed to be comforting you,” I laugh. “Not the other way around.”

“A mother’s work is never done,” she says softly.

I nod and loosen my grip on her.

I can see it coming.

The light.

I know she needs to walk through it. I know we’ll be separated when she does.

I also know that it won’t take her nearly as long as it took me to see the bridge.

I take her hand and guide her toward the light. She touches my face one more time before it surrounds her.

I close my eyes and prepare to blink.

And then we’re gone.