Cryer's Cross by Lisa McMann Page B

away. Get away from the wonderful evil.
    She knows that whatever it was, it wasn’t real. It can’t be real. It must be some weird grief thing, where you hear the voice of someone who has passed and really think it’s him. But it was just so strong. She catches her breath as Jacián comes in and sits down. Kendall slides back into her desk, heart still racing, trying to make sense of what just happened. Knowing it was all just emotion, grief. Feelings taking over, teasing her. Reminding her of how good it felt to be with Nico.
    “It was never
that
good,” she mutters. Her temples pound.
    “What?” Jacián says.
    Kendall startles and turns to look at him. His brown eyes are flecked with yellow, and his eyebrows knit together, concerned. “Nothing,” she says. “Just . . . mumbling.”
    Jacián keeps looking at her. “Just mumbling,” he says.
    “That’s what I said.”
    He shrugs and pulls his notebook out of his backpack. “Look,” he says, “whenever you’re done with those potatoes, I could really use a soccer partner. If you’re not still mad. I mean, you can just come home with us whenever.”
    Kendall’s brain is still buzzing. She edges away from Nico’s desk, toward Jacián. “I’m too tired to even think of playing.”
    “That’s because you’re not playing.”
    “What do I have to play for?”
    Jacián stares at her for a long moment. Then he just shakes his head lightly and turns to face the front of the classroom.
    They sit there in silence and wait for Ms. Hinkler to start the afternoon work. For the next three hours Kendall can’t stop thinking about what happened with the desk.
    And about hearing Nico’s voice.
    By evening Kendall has reasoned away what happened. Her grief is playing tricks with her brain. Sure, her connection with Nico was strong—they were like twins in a way, the way they grew up and were always together. Of course she’s going to think she hears his voice now and then. It’s spooky, but it’s completely natural. And totally explainable. And completely sad.
    It just makes her feel so lonely.
    She lies in bed, window checked six times, moonlight streaming in through the soft white curtains. So lonely her arms ache with no one to hold.

WE

    Too much!
    We pull back, suck in Our hypnotic venom, but it’s too late. The heat, the life is gone. Too strong, too desperate. And you . . . unwilling? Nonmalleable? We curse now in the dark, quiet room. Our only option is to move.
    We groan and creak, inching along, Our built-up strength leaking out with each motion.
    There is no other choice for Us.

NINETEEN
    He’s alone in the morning in the pouring rain.
    “Where’s Marlena?” Kendall asks, climbing into the truck.
    Jacián chews on a toothpick, his dark eyes squinting through the sheets of water as his wipers fly from side to side. He flips the gearshift into drive. “Bozeman, getting a checkup at the doctor’s today. They’re taking the cast off.”
    “Oh, that’s right. Cool.”
    “She’ll still have to wear one of those boot things for a couple weeks.”
    “Ew. Hideous. Serious fashion emergency.”
    Jacián laughs and glances at her. “My parents and grandfather would like you and your family to come fordinner Sunday to celebrate. It’s Marlena’s sixteenth birthday. Can your family get away?”
    “Just us?”
    “No. Greenwoods too, and Marlena’s new sophomore friends. And maybe some others. I don’t know. My grandfather is going to call your parents but I thought I’d mention it.” He slows at the four-way stop in town and peers through the weather. “Maybe we can scrimmage with Eli and a few of the others if they come.” He looks at her again, and his eyes are so earnest.
    Kendall half smiles. “I brought my clothes today,” she says. She pats her backpack. “Mom told me I’m too mopey and she’s giving me the day off. I packed them up before I looked outside and saw this mess.”
    “You did?” He sounds shocked. Pleased. “A