Chapter One

Luke Mercer’s eyes latched onto mine as he strode into history class. I looked down quickly, but I could still feel his gaze. It wasn’t like the sympathetic and curious looks my other classmates gave me. At least they had the decency to seem embarrassed when I caught them glancing my way. Luke had been watching me with cool disdain, his blue eyes never wavering.

He paused as he passed by my desk. I kept my eyes on my notebook, willing him to sit down.

“Please take your seat, Luke,” Ms. Davis said.

He uttered a low, sarcastic laugh and slid into a desk in the next row over.

Luke had transferred from Westdale Collegiate to St. Peter’s High for grade twelve, but it was mid-September and he’d only started attending classes two days earlier. People were saying it was because he’d just gotten out of juvie.

I hunched over my notebook, intent on ignoring him. As I doodled with my right hand, the fingers of my left automatically lifted to touch the silver chain that always hung around my neck. My fingertips only grazed bare skin.

Letting out a sharp gasp, I fumbled with my collar, but I still couldn’t feel the chain. I dropped my pen and frantically ran both hands over the front of my shirt, hoping my locket had just fallen off and got snagged in the material. It hadn’t.

I bent over and searched my backpack. It wasn’t there, either.

Somewhere between home and school, I’d lost the locket. How could I not have noticed? It was one of the few things I had left that tied me to my mother, and now it was gone—maybe forever, just like her. As the thought crossed my mind, my chest tightened in a way it never had before, squeezing until I felt like I was going to explode. A lump rose in my throat, and I was struck by the overwhelming urge to cry.

I never cried. I’d always been good at keeping my emotions in check. Even in the days and weeks following the fire, I hadn’t shed a tear. It was like this wall of numbness surrounded me, keeping me from really feeling.

Now, with the discovery of the missing locket, that wall had come crashing down.

With my heart thumping wildly against my ribcage, I barely noticed when Principal Tobin came on the PA. For a couple of minutes, his voice sounded far away as he read through a list of announcements. But then his tone changed, taking on a sombre note that made me sit up a little straighter. “And now I have a very important piece of news to cap off today’s announcements. As you all know, we lost one of our students this past summer. Nicholas Allen was a bright, motivated young man who was honoured with a Young Humanitarian Award for his fundraising campaign for victims of the Alberta floods. He also…”

No! I screamed in my head. Don’t talk about him.

But, of course, Mr. Tobin couldn’t hear my silent plea. He kept talking about my dead boyfriend, listing his achievements like a proud father.

Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. Something was lodged in my windpipe, cutting off all my air.

“And now,” the principal continued, “Nicholas’ parents are collaborating with the Red Cross to set up a scholarship fund in his memory. If you would like more information, you can contact…”

I’d known about the scholarship because Mrs. Allen had called to tell me about it before school had started. But I had not been expecting to hear about it over the PA today. Hadn’t been expecting Nick’s name to be boomed out across the school just as I was trying to keep it together in the wake of losing my locket. Talk about a double whammy.

I needed the wall again, needed to build it back up and use it as a buffer against the flood of emotions. But the pieces of that wall lay at my feet, and I didn’t know how to put them back together.

I couldn’t ignore the images of Nick that popped into my head—tall, lean, handsome Nick with the crooked smile and caramel-brown eyes that could send butterflies skittering through my stomach, even after two years of dating. But I would never see that smile again. He was gone, just like my mother. Just like the locket.

Stop it, I commanded myself, desperate to put an end to the chain of despondent thoughts. You can beat this.

My mother had taught me some techniques to use if my emotions started to run rampant—simple things like taking slow, deep breaths, counting to ten or recalling a happy memory…affirmations. I’d never had to use any of them…until now.

I took a series of deep breaths and hoped that I would find my equilibrium.

But the deep sadness and regret only grew, pouring over me in waves as Nick’s face floated in my mind’s eye.

My face grew warm. The walls of the classroom were closing in on me. I desperately wished I was somewhere else, somewhere I could be alone, where I could breathe in lungfuls of fresh air.

An image of a field of poppies began to take shape in my mind. I didn’t have time to wonder where it had come from because a wave of dizziness struck me.

Black spots flitted across my vision, and the classroom began to spin.

I closed my eyes.

“Are you all right, Julia?”

The concerned voice of my history teacher reached me through the dizziness. When I opened my eyes, the spinning sensation stopped as suddenly as it had begun. My racing heart started to slow as I fixed my eyes on Ms. Davis. I took another deep breath, and this time I was able to push back the grief that had nearly consumed me.

“I’m fine, Ms. Davis,” I said. My voice was loud and clear, but my hands were shaking. I wasn’t sure what was worse—the fact that the layer of numbness had been peeled back, exposing my emotions…or feeling like I was going to faint. What was wrong with me today?

The eyes of my classmates burned into the back of my head. Whispers swirled around me. They were gossiping about the fire, of course, wanting to know more, wondering how I was.

They could wonder all they wanted, though. I wasn’t talking about it.

“Quiet, please,” Ms. Davis said.

She waited for the whispers to die down then cleared her throat. “Today we’re going to start by talking about the St. Peter’s Mining Disaster of 1938. Does anyone know what happened?”

“It was a methane gas explosion, right?” Tina Myers answered. “It killed most of the miners.”

“That’s right. And what was the significance of the disaster?”

“Uh, a lot of people died?” piped up Ron Freeman, the school’s track-and-field star. He was swift on the track but not so much in the classroom.

Laughter rang through the room. Ms. Davis sighed. “Other than that, Mr. Freeman. What was the significance of the event in terms of a historical context?”

Emily Saunders shot her hand up.

“Yes, Emily.”

“It meant the end of the iron ore industry in St. Peter’s.”

“Exactly. After that—”

“Actually,” Scott Reese cut in, “I think the real significance is that the survivors went nuts.”

There was a collective groan from the class.

“Come on, you guys. You all know the stories. They saw some pretty crazy things as they ran out of the mine.”

Emily tossed her red hair. “They were probably delusional.”

Ron scratched his head thoughtfully. “They were all delusional? I don’t know, Em. I kinda think the stories might be true.”

“Yeah,” Scott said with a smirk. “Stories about miners disappearing in a cloud of dust—and not because of the explosion.”

“Stories about someone using freaky magic down in the mines!” someone else chimed in.

Ms. Davis held up a hand. “All right, that’s enough. Let’s stick with the facts, please.”

I listened to the exchange without participating. It wasn’t like I didn’t have anything to say about the mining disaster. After all, my own grandfather—who’d died before I was born—had survived the explosion. And according to Mom, he’d always insisted the rumors about unexplained phenomena were just that—rumors. I could have contributed this information, but the last thing I wanted to do was prolong a debate about death and tragedy. I was dealing with enough of that in my own life.

Still feeling a bit unsteady, I shifted in my seat. As I did so, my elbow struck my pen and knocked it to the floor.

I twisted in my seat to retrieve it, but the girl who sat in the desk behind me had already scooped it up. She handed it to me with a sympathetic smile. I murmured my thanks and was about to turn around.

That’s when I noticed Luke watching me from the next row, three desks down. His ice-blue eyes locked onto mine again. Hi, Julia, he mouthed.

I frowned at him. He smiled, but his eyes remained cool. I faced forward, anger bubbling in my chest as I focused on my notebook again. Soon the page in front of me was covered with the same line, written over and over in small, neat letters.

Stay in control.

The bell rang, signalling the end of class. I stood, stuffed my notebook in my backpack and hurried from the classroom. In the hallway, I pushed through a throng of students, anxious to get to my locker.

“Jules!” My best friend, Roxy Butler, hurried up and threw her arms around me.

“Hey, Rox.” As she gave me a squeeze, some of my tension fell away.

“A bunch of us are going to Tony’s for lunch. Please say you’ll come with.”

I shook my head, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. “I can’t. I’ve got some stuff to do.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, tucking her curly blonde hair behind her ears. “It’ll be fun.”

I glanced at Roxy as I turned to my locker. She was slim and petite, but what she lacked in size she made up for in energy and enthusiasm. Since school had begun, she’d been urging me to join a group of our friends at Tony’s Pizza Parlor. It had become a Friday ritual of ours over the last couple of years, but more often than not, I said no. No one seemed to know what to say to me, and I couldn’t stand being the target of their sympathy.

“I don’t think so, Rox. I really don’t feel up to it.”

Her eyes met mine. She paused. “To be honest, you don’t look so good. Are you all right? I heard the scholarship announcement and…” She let her words trail off.

I sighed. “It was just, you know, kind of a jolt to hear his name, but I’m okay.” I wasn’t okay, though…not by a longshot. After that weird dizzy spell in the classroom, my limbs felt like they weighed a ton, and I could feel the unfamiliar emotions tugging at me again, wanting to get out. But I refused to break down at school. And that meant I couldn’t talk about Nick or Mom. “So, are you still going to Scott’s party?” I asked quickly.

She nodded. “Are you sure you don’t want to go?”

Scott’s annual back-to-school bash was always held at the end of September when his parents went on a Caribbean cruise. He’d been having them since grade nine, and I’d never missed one. It was true that I’d told Roxy I didn’t want to go. But suddenly the thought of having easy access to alcohol appealed to me—anything to take the edge off. Plus, in Scott’s huge house, with loud music and people everywhere, the attention wouldn’t be focused on me like it was in a small group.

“Actually, I think I will go.”

She curved her lips into a bright smile. “Great! We can raid my sister’s closet and find you something really cool to wear. And I’ll get Jimmy to drive us.” She paused, glancing at her watch. “Listen… I gotta go, but you’re still coming over tonight, right?”

“It’ll be just you and me?”

“Just you and me,” she said, squeezing my arm. “Movies, gossip and junk food.”

Despite my mood, a smile spread across my face. “Sounds good.”

“Awesome. I’ll see you then!” She dashed down the hall, and I turned the dial on my combination lock.

When I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the little magnetic mirror that hung on the inside of the door, I gave a little start.

It wasn’t the sight of my unkempt hair that surprised me—the thick mass of dark brown was untameable, even on the best of days—but my flushed cheeks and pale lips. And there were dark circles under my eyes that I swore hadn’t been there when I’d left for school. Roxy was right. I did look awful. I wondered if I was coming down with some kind of flu bug. That might explain the dizzy spell.

I took out the books I’d need for my afternoon classes then shut the locker with a sigh.

And turned to find the new guy staring at me again.

He was leaning against the row of lockers across the hall, his arms crossed as his gaze raked me from head to toe. He clucked his tongue. “It’s been a while, Julia Parsons.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look at you, all grown up. What are you now, seventeen?”

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” I hitched my backpack on my shoulders, heading away from him.

He easily caught up to me and matched my quick pace. “Come on. Is that any way to treat an old friend?”

I stopped and stared at him. “Do I know you?”

“You don’t remember me?” His mouth twitched once then stilled. His eyes were bright against his deeply tanned face and shock of jet-black hair. The stubble that dotted his jawline made him look older than a grade-twelve student. “Luke. Luke Mercer.”

I shook my head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“We used to be best buds when we were kids. You and me, we used to run through the sprinkler together? I lived on Ennis Avenue, a few doors down from you.”

“I don’t remember you living in the neighborhood,” I said, frowning. In fact, I didn’t remember any kids living on Ennis before Nick.

“Well, we were only there for a year before Dad moved us across town. I thought I might’ve made an impression on you, though.” He paused, flicking his eyes over me again. “Back then everyone called me Lucas.”

Lucas.

A hazy image of a little dark-haired boy holding a ratty teddy bear flashed through my mind, startling me. Where had that come from? “When was this?” I asked.

“We were five. Come on. You really don’t remember us playing together?”

“Not really,” I said, my voice high and thin. “I don’t remember much of anything from that long ago.” My father had died in a car accident that year, and I barely remembered that, let alone playing with some random kid who’d briefly lived on my street.

“Anyway, I never forget a name, and your name is flying around this school. When I heard it was your house that burned down on Ennis, I knew you had to be the same Julia Parsons from my old neighborhood.”

I dug my nails into my palms, trying to block out the image of the flames gutting my home. “Yeah. Well, nice seeing you again, but I have to get going.”

He held up his hands, palms outward. “Hey, I get it. You don’t want to talk about what happened, especially with someone you don’t even remember.”

“No,” I said bluntly, “I don’t.” I started down the hall, my chest so tight that I was sure my lungs were being squeezed.

He kept pace with me again. “You know what I find ironic? That guy in history mentioning the word ‘magic’.”

“Oh yeah?” I said, hurrying in the direction of the girls’ washroom. The sooner I ditched this creep, the better.

“Yeah. Because that’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about.” He caught my arm, gripping it so tightly that I was forced to stop. The hard glint in his eyes sent a shiver racing down my spine.

“Let go.” I struggled against his iron-like hold, but he didn’t budge. I looked around wildly, hoping to appeal to someone else for help, but the hall had emptied as students made their way to the cafeteria for lunch or left to eat off school grounds.

“Don’t expect me to believe you don’t know what you did to me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Why do you think we moved away?”

“How would I know that?”

Luke leaned close, his breath hot and smelling like cigarettes. “You tried to send me away with some kind of freaky magic. And this past summer, your mom actually did it. Only it wasn’t me she sent away. It was my dad. Apparently, you witches can send people anywhere, real or not.”

“Okay, you are seriously messed up. How dare you stand there and make up delusional stories about me and my mom?” My face burned. “Now let go.”

A burst of loud chatter came from the direction of the girls’ washroom. Trisha Ford and one of her grade-eleven minions, Kathy something-or-other, stepped out into the corridor.

Luke scowled and released his hold on me. I massaged my arm where his fingers had dug into my skin.

Trisha stopped in mid-sentence when she caught sight of us. Tall and thin, she wore skin-tight leggings and a top that bared one shoulder. A trio of gold bracelets clinked together on her arm as she raised it to smooth down her bottle-blonde hair.

Trisha had been my arch nemesis since grade two, when she’d stolen the doll I’d brought for show-and-tell. Since then, she’d found countless ways to humiliate me, mostly by spreading rumors. I was fairly sure she was behind the malicious stories being circulated about the fire, one of which was the completely bogus rumor that I started the blaze myself. But I’d always been able to remain calm, never letting her see that she got to me. I knew it drove her crazy.

She narrowed her heavily made-up eyes at me before shifting her attention to Luke.

“What are you doing with her?”

“Oh, we’re old friends.” Luke said.

“Friends?” Trisha’s wide, fuchsia-coated lips curled in derision.

“Yeah, we knew each other when we were kids.”

“Wait,” I said, looking from one to the other in confusion. “How do you guys know each other?”

“We met yesterday. Mr. Tobin asked me to give him a tour of the school. We’ve gotten very close, very fast.” She stepped close to Luke and gave his arm a familiar squeeze.

So, the bitch had found herself a new target. As I stared at Trisha, who was looking all smug now, her arm hooked through Luke’s, I thought of all the times she’d tried to steal Nick from me. She hadn’t succeeded, of course. Nick and I had practically been joined at the hip. Her ineffective flirtations had never bothered me, but now the very memory of her batting her eyelashes at Nick made me want to scratch her eyes out.

Get it together, Julia. This isn’t like you. “Well, that’s great. You two are perfect for each other.”

Luke extricated himself from Trisha and took a step towards me. I immediately backed away, my hands in the air. “Just stay away from me, you—you creep.”

I turned on my heel and half-walked, half-jogged down the hall. Bursting through a side door, I hurried through the sun-dappled parking lot, trying to get as much distance as I could between myself and crazy Luke Mercer.

* * * *

I moved the cloth over the stain, willing it to disappear. But no matter how long or how hard I scrubbed, the stubborn spot remained. I paused to shake out a cramp in my hand, frowning at the culprit on my aunt’s granite countertop. It wasn’t big—maybe the size of a dime—but it was bright purple and hard to miss. Stupid grape juice.

With a sigh, I leaned back over the counter and redoubled my efforts. I barely lifted my head when Aunt Karen came through the backdoor.

“If you’re not careful, you’ll make a hole in the counter,” she said lightly.

“There’s this one little spot that…” I trailed off as I caught the smell of pepperoni pizza. Turning, I discovered the source of the heavenly aroma in my aunt’s arms. “Well, I guess the spot can wait.”

Smiling, she set the pizza on the table. “The house looks immaculate.” She glanced at the mop and bucket I’d propped in the corner. “You even did the floors. What brought this on?”

I shrugged. “I had some time.” It was more like I’d needed to keep busy or I would’ve driven myself crazy with thoughts of my missing locket. My stomach twisted. I still couldn’t believe I’d lost it. The silver heart hadn’t left my sight since Mom had given it to me on my first day of kindergarten. I didn’t know of many kids who still had jewellery from their elementary school days, but I’d loved that locket from the minute I’d put it on and had never taken it off. Now my neck felt naked without it. I hoped to God it would turn up in the lost and found at school the next day. So far there was no sign of it there. I’d already called the school office to ask.

“You’re home earlier than usual,” I said.

As a general surgeon at Grace Memorial Hospital, my aunt worked long days. It was normal for her shifts to last up to fourteen hours. Sometimes she even slept at the hospital.

“Managed to finish at a decent time for once. I thought we’d have an early supper.” She lifted the lid on the pizza box. “Thanks for cleaning up, honey. I do appreciate it.”

“It’s no big deal,” I said, taking two cans of Coke from the fridge.

After the day I’d had, doing housework had given me at least a small measure of control. I’d vacuumed, swept and mopped, on a mission to keep my mind off the locket—and Mom and Nick. The grief was threatening to creep in again, and for some reason, I couldn’t push it back like I’d been doing all summer.

The encounter with Luke was also weighing on my mind. Obviously, his accusation was some kind of sick joke, but it had rattled me all the same. I bet Trisha was behind it. She could have paid him or something to say all that crap about Mom and me being witches. She had seemed genuinely surprised, not to mention pissed off, when she saw Luke standing next to me, but that had probably been part of the act. Mulling the scene over, I pictured her face in my mind, her eyes flashing with disdain.

I’d rather think about Trisha than think about Mom and Nick. Memories of them had been crashing over me like a tidal wave—Mom’s lilting voice as she hummed a tune from one of her plays, the scent of her lavender shampoo, the feel of Nick’s lips on mine.

It still felt weird, not hearing Mom’s confident step around the house or seeing Nick burst through the front door as if he owned the place. He’d lived a few houses down from mine on Ennis, and it had seemed like he’d been at my place more than his own.

I shook my head. So much for not thinking about them.

I rustled up napkins, plates and glasses for the Coke and carefully arranged two place mats on the table. I took a bite of pizza, hoping the taste of cheese and pepperoni would mask the lump in my throat.

“How was school?” Aunt Karen asked.

“Fine.” I’d already decided not to tell her about the locket. It had originally belonged to my mother, and since the fire, my aunt seemed relieved that I’d continued to wear it—almost reassured, actually. I didn’t want to worry her just yet. She probably wouldn’t notice it was missing anyway, since I mostly wore it under my shirt.

I took a long sip of Coke. The lump was still there, but it was a little smaller. “They’re going over the mining disaster in history again. They really need to get some new material.”

Karen gave me a small smile as she wiped her hands on her napkin. “I agree. How are your other classes going?”

“Good.” Eager to change the subject, I said, “Hey, did you know they’re painting over my mural next week? Jennifer—the contest coordinator—left a message.”

St. Peter’s held a mural contest every fall. Participants were asked to paint their idea for a winter mural on a piece of stretch canvas while a committee of judges looked on. The winner was given the opportunity to recreate the scene on the large wall that lined the road coming down from Joseph Heights. I had won the past year with my depiction of a snowy village. Now the city was ready to paint it over and give this year’s winner a blank canvas.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, honey.” She paused. “Is that why you’re so distracted tonight?”

I nodded. It was easier to let her think that was the reason. I really wasn’t in the mood to talk about everything else that was going on. “Well, that and my artwork for the institute. I don’t have much time if I want to send them some new pieces.” I had yet to start on my portfolio for the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, one of the colleges I was applying to.

Aunt Karen set down her pizza, concern etched in the fine lines around her mouth and eyes. “Julia, you’ll have plenty of time for that. You’re doing enough now.”

I peered at her over the rim of my glass. She was my mother’s sister, but she didn’t look or act anything like her. Mom had had unruly dark brown hair like mine. Karen’s hair was auburn and styled in a short bob. Mom’s face had been strong-boned, with smooth olive skin, full lips and hazel eyes that I couldn’t always read. Karen had a narrow face with fair skin, a thin mouth and deep green eyes that always gave away what she was thinking. She’d cried in front of me a few times after the fire, mourning her sister. That was all right for her, but not for me. And it wouldn’t have been for Mom, either. She’d been cool and calm, even in the most trying of circumstances. People often joked that I’d inherited her ability to let troubles roll off me like water off a duck’s back.

“The more I do, the better off I am,” I said.

She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “I know you think you have to be strong, but just…go easy on yourself, okay?”

I wondered if now was the time she’d tell me it was okay to fall apart, that I didn’t have to keep my emotions at bay, that a good cry was healthy, like it had been for her. But she didn’t. She hadn’t said anything like that at all since the fire. She seemed to understand that I preferred the numbness that shrouded my grief like a cloak.

The problem was that the cloak had suddenly lifted. And I didn’t like the feelings that lay underneath.

I didn’t like them at all.

* * * *

After supper, I went to Roxy’s. My best friend lived several blocks away, but I had turned down Aunt Karen’s offer to borrow her car, opting for a walk in the mild September evening. I wanted to be moving, to feel my legs pumping and my heart beating in my chest. The sun filtered through the trees, casting a warm glow on my skin, and a light breeze swept my hair back from my face. By the time I arrived at the Butlers’, there was a fine layer of sweat on my body and my face was flushed.

Roxy answered the door and immediately propelled me inside. “Thank God you’re here, Jules. I need your math expertise. I’m stuck on a problem.”

I let her pull me upstairs. “Sure. Which set are you on?”

“Ah, only the first one,” she said, shutting her bedroom door. “God, I hate algebra.”

I sat at her desk and pulled her notebook toward me. “Oh yeah. I remember this one.”

She propped her hands on her hips. “You finished it already, didn’t you?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You freak.”

I laughed, searching for a pencil. “Get over here and I’ll show you how a freak does it.”

I ended up helping her with the rest of the problems. When we’d finished, she flounced on the bed. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

I crossed to her dresser and picked up a hairbrush, absently pulling it through my tangles. I could see her reflection in the mirror as she sprawled on the bed behind me, piling her curly blonde hair on top of her head. “It’s not like you to do math on a Friday night.” I eyed her in the mirror. “What’s up?”

She curved her lips up into a sly grin. “Let’s just say I’m going to be too busy to do it this weekend. Jimmy’s parents are going out of town.”

“Oh.” I set the hairbrush down and quickly turned toward her desk, straightening her textbooks so I could avoid seeing the anticipation that gleamed in her eyes.

It wasn’t so much that I was envious of her relationship with her boyfriend—although I guess a part of me was. It was more that hearing about it was a stark reminder of what I had lost. I’d never have an intimate weekend alone with Nick again. I’d never feel his hands caressing my skin, his movements gentle and tender. His tall, lean body would never again fill the doorway of my house, a mischievous grin playing over his face. His absence—his and mom’s—had left a huge hole in my heart, and it was hard to imagine it would ever be filled in again.

Roxy must have sensed my discomfort because she swore under her breath. “Sorry, Jules. I didn’t mean to rub it in your face.”

I forced a smile. “You didn’t. So,” I continued, “something totally crazy happened at my locker after you left today. You know that new guy, Luke?”

“The one who just got out of juvie?”

“Yeah. So, get this. He accused me of being a witch.”

Roxy wrinkled her nose. “What? What do you mean, a witch?”

I quickly filled her in, finishing with Trish’s appearance. “I think she must’ve put him up to it.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” she said, shaking her head. “She probably said she’d sleep with him if he went all crazy on you.”

I gave a short, hard laugh. “Probably.”

“My God, what a bitch. Why can’t she just leave you alone? You’ve been through enough.”

“Yeah, well, she better not be at the party tomorrow.”

“If she is and she bothers you, I’ll personally kick her ass.”

This time my laughter was full of amusement as I tried to picture pint-sized Roxy launching herself at Trisha’s six-foot frame. “Now there’s something I’d like to see.”

She stuck her tongue out at me. “You know, I’m actually really excited for tomorrow night. It’s going to be so much better now that you’re going!” She sprang from the bed and tackled me in a hug.

“Can’t breathe, Rox,” I managed.

“What? Oh, sorry.” She let me go with a giggle, then dashed to her closet. “I have just the thing for you to wear. Stole it from Debbie’s room this afternoon.”

“What is it?”

“Her red dress. You’re going to love it.”

“Oh, I don’t need to dress up, Rox. I want to be low-key.”

She glanced over her shoulder as she flipped through the hangers. “Are you kidding me? You know everybody dresses up for Scott’s annual bash. It’s like a tradition. You’ll stand out if you don’t wear something nice. Ah-ha! Here it is.”

Seeing the silky halter dress laid out on the bed, I felt a bit of Roxy’s excitement rubbing off on me. “It is a great dress,” I admitted.

“I know, right?” She flashed me a wide smile. “Good thing you and my sister are the same size. Oh, wait! I have the shoes to go with it, too.” She ducked back in the closet and stood on her tiptoes to reach a box on the top shelf. “So, what made you change your mind about the party?”

I ran my fingers over the dress. “Honestly? The alcohol.”

She turned around, a deep frown creasing her forehead. “Really? You hardly ever drink.”

“Well, maybe now’s a good time to start.”

“Whoa, where is this coming from, Jules?” She set the shoe box aside and came to sit next to me on the bed.

A loud sigh escaped my lips. “I lost Mom’s necklace today.”

“Oh no. Shit, I’m sorry. I know how much that meant to you. Did you lose it at your house? I can come over and help you look if you want.”

I shook my head. “I had it on when I left for school. It must’ve fallen off somewhere along the way or just as I got inside. I noticed it was gone in history.”

“That really sucks, Jules. But maybe someone will find it and turn it in.”

I pressed my hands together in my lap to keep them from shaking. “I just can’t believe it. How could I have been so stupid? I should’ve noticed right away.”

“It was an accident.”

“That was the only thing I had left of her, Rox.” The ache was back in my throat again, so painful I could barely swallow.

“It’s going to be okay. We can—”

“No, it’s not. I’m suddenly missing her and Nick so much that I want to scream or cry or…or drink until I can’t feel anything.”

“Well, that’s understandable. You were probably in shock, and now with the necklace gone, you’re just feeling everything all at once.” She peered at me with concern. “Even you couldn’t hold it in forever.”

“It’s not fair,” I whispered. “Mom should be here, directing her new play. And Nick… Nick should’ve gotten his award that night.”

Roxy rubbed my back. She didn’t have to ask what night I meant. “Hey, don’t do this to yourself.”

I barely heard her. An image of that fateful night burned in my mind. After spending the early part of the evening at an art lecture, I’d gone home to get ready for Nick’s ceremony. He had sent me a text saying he was already there with Mom, going over his acceptance speech.

But instead of finding an excited boyfriend at home, I’d found my house engulfed in flames—and Nick and Mom trapped inside.

I’d watched, paralyzed with shock, as the roof collapsed in a wave of dust and debris. The voice of the fire captain, sounding distorted and far-off, told me it was too dangerous for his men to go in. And I descended even deeper into shock, unable to fully comprehend what had happened. I was too numb to feel, too numb to cry.

Now that the numbness had faded, I could feel. And what I felt at that moment, sitting on my best friend’s bed, was sadness. A deep, dark sorrow wrapped me in a choke hold and refused to let go.

I wished I were dead instead of Mom and Nick.

Roxy shook me gently. “Come on, Jules. I’ll take you home. You don’t look so good.”

“I don’t feel good.” I tried to take deep breaths, but they came out shallow as my chest heaved with the weight of emotion. If I could have replaced the memory of the fire with a happy one, I would have. But the loss of my locket had brought it all back into sharp focus, and I couldn’t fight the emotion that was growing inside me.

The threads of it tugged at me, looking for an escape.

I had to get out of there.

When I lurched to my feet, my gaze was instantly pulled to the poster tacked up next to the mirror. It was a promotional poster that I had designed for Mom’s most successful play, 'Dragonfly Island.' I’d given it to Roxy as soon as they had been printed. I tried to tear my eyes away, but I couldn’t move. I stood rooted to one spot, focused on the image of three whimsical dragonflies set against the backdrop of a white sandy beach curling around an aquamarine ocean.

The room began to spin, just like it had in history class. My vision swam with black dots. I closed my eyes and put my hand out for the bed, reaching forward like a blind man. But the bed wasn’t there, and I pitched forward. A sensation of warmth flooded my body like the heat of a noonday sun, and a slight buzzing sounded in my ear. The sharp smell of salt reached my nose. I flailed about, my heart thundering in my chest as the disorientation increased.

Then I discovered I couldn’t open my eyes.