herself, Cameryn said, “Secondhand smoke is bad enough, Adam. You know those things will kill you. And seeing as I just came from slicing up someone’s insides, I can assure you that you don’t want to die.”
“I don’t, but you also got to remember that good health is just the slowest possible means to arrive at the inevitable end.” Adam put his cigarettes back into his pocket, patting them affectionately. “I mean, the harsh reality is we’re all destined for the grave. Besides, you know that the spirit lives on. I wouldn’t be surprised if Oakes was hovering over us right now, watching us from the ceiling.”
“Oh, please,” Cameryn groaned, “it’s been way too long a day for a bunch of woo-woo theories on the after-life. I am so not in the mood.”
“Whoa, man, where did that come from?” Adam asked. He plowed his thin fingers through his sooty hair, saying, “You got to know death is part of life.”
“Yeah, but it’s also blood and brains and . . . loss.” Cameryn shook her head. “I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have gone out with you guys tonight. I’m not very good company right now. Obviously.”
The jazz band fired up, a thumping old-timey rendition of “Maple Leaf Rag,” which made Lyric almost shout to be heard. Her eyes, rimmed in cobalt blue, had widened in sympathy. “That’s exactly why you need your friends,” she cried, patting Cameryn with a ring-adorned hand. “That’s the reason we came all the way down here. To help you through your god-awful day. Be you happy or sad—whatever your emotion is, you’re entitled to feel it. You know you can be real with us.”
“Thank you, Dr. Phil.”
Lyric retracted her hand. “What is with you tonight, Cammie? We’re only trying to help.”
That was another thing bothering her, Cameryn realized, although she didn’t want to admit it. Her best friend was now one half of a couple. The realization that their longtime friendship of two had made way to include another person—rearranging the way things had been done since grade school—had Cameryn feeling left out. Adam, Silverton’s weird loner in black, had become part of their friendship equation. It was no longer just loud, mystic Lyric and scientific Cameryn against the world. The two had become three.
She stole a glance at Adam, at his cheeks, thin to the point of hollowness, and his pale eyes that looked bland while the mind behind them clicked and whirred. It wasn’t that she begrudged her best friend having a boyfriend, exactly—though Lyric had never had a guy before. No, it was the fact that lately, everywhere Cameryn turned, her life seemed to shift beneath her, changing the way drifts of snow could rise and melt in a single day in the mountains around Silverton. She realized she wanted things to stay the same. Even more, she wanted her old life back, and that was impossible.
“Are you ready to order?”
Cameryn looked up to see a college-aged man with blond dreadlocks, wearing a Scoot ’n Blues polo shirt hanging loosely over khakis, the outfit at odds with his Rastafarian hair that sprouted from his head in fuzzy coils.
“I’ll have a cheeseburger,” Cameryn began, but Lyric cut her off.
“I’m sorry, we’re waiting for someone else,” she said, shooting a sly smile Cameryn’s way. “Can we just have two iced teas and a Diet Coke while we wait? And another place setting, please.” Lyric didn’t need to ask if Cameryn wanted the Diet Coke. It was Cameryn’s standing order.
“Not a problem,” the server said, and disappeared.
For a moment, despite her dark mood, Cameryn felt a stirring of interest because this was unexpected. “What’s up?” she asked. “Who else is coming tonight?”
“Just wait,” Lyric whispered, leaning in conspiratorially. “We’ve got a surprise for you.”
Cameryn felt her blood freeze. “Is it . . . is it Hannah?”
“No, no, no,” Lyric assured her, leaning back into the booth.
“I don’t, but you also got to remember that good health is just the slowest possible means to arrive at the inevitable end.” Adam put his cigarettes back into his pocket, patting them affectionately. “I mean, the harsh reality is we’re all destined for the grave. Besides, you know that the spirit lives on. I wouldn’t be surprised if Oakes was hovering over us right now, watching us from the ceiling.”
“Oh, please,” Cameryn groaned, “it’s been way too long a day for a bunch of woo-woo theories on the after-life. I am so not in the mood.”
“Whoa, man, where did that come from?” Adam asked. He plowed his thin fingers through his sooty hair, saying, “You got to know death is part of life.”
“Yeah, but it’s also blood and brains and . . . loss.” Cameryn shook her head. “I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have gone out with you guys tonight. I’m not very good company right now. Obviously.”
The jazz band fired up, a thumping old-timey rendition of “Maple Leaf Rag,” which made Lyric almost shout to be heard. Her eyes, rimmed in cobalt blue, had widened in sympathy. “That’s exactly why you need your friends,” she cried, patting Cameryn with a ring-adorned hand. “That’s the reason we came all the way down here. To help you through your god-awful day. Be you happy or sad—whatever your emotion is, you’re entitled to feel it. You know you can be real with us.”
“Thank you, Dr. Phil.”
Lyric retracted her hand. “What is with you tonight, Cammie? We’re only trying to help.”
That was another thing bothering her, Cameryn realized, although she didn’t want to admit it. Her best friend was now one half of a couple. The realization that their longtime friendship of two had made way to include another person—rearranging the way things had been done since grade school—had Cameryn feeling left out. Adam, Silverton’s weird loner in black, had become part of their friendship equation. It was no longer just loud, mystic Lyric and scientific Cameryn against the world. The two had become three.
She stole a glance at Adam, at his cheeks, thin to the point of hollowness, and his pale eyes that looked bland while the mind behind them clicked and whirred. It wasn’t that she begrudged her best friend having a boyfriend, exactly—though Lyric had never had a guy before. No, it was the fact that lately, everywhere Cameryn turned, her life seemed to shift beneath her, changing the way drifts of snow could rise and melt in a single day in the mountains around Silverton. She realized she wanted things to stay the same. Even more, she wanted her old life back, and that was impossible.
“Are you ready to order?”
Cameryn looked up to see a college-aged man with blond dreadlocks, wearing a Scoot ’n Blues polo shirt hanging loosely over khakis, the outfit at odds with his Rastafarian hair that sprouted from his head in fuzzy coils.
“I’ll have a cheeseburger,” Cameryn began, but Lyric cut her off.
“I’m sorry, we’re waiting for someone else,” she said, shooting a sly smile Cameryn’s way. “Can we just have two iced teas and a Diet Coke while we wait? And another place setting, please.” Lyric didn’t need to ask if Cameryn wanted the Diet Coke. It was Cameryn’s standing order.
“Not a problem,” the server said, and disappeared.
For a moment, despite her dark mood, Cameryn felt a stirring of interest because this was unexpected. “What’s up?” she asked. “Who else is coming tonight?”
“Just wait,” Lyric whispered, leaning in conspiratorially. “We’ve got a surprise for you.”
Cameryn felt her blood freeze. “Is it . . . is it Hannah?”
“No, no, no,” Lyric assured her, leaning back into the booth.
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