Ashes to Ashes

FOR THE REST OF THE DAY, THE FIGHT IS ALL ANYONE can talk about. I roam the halls, eavesdropping on whispered conversations, looking over the shoulders of people writing texts. Reeve sucker-punched his former best friend. Obviously Lillia was involved somehow.

But no one can figure out why.

There are plenty of guesses. Reeve cheated on Lillia. Lillia cheated on Reeve with Alex. Her father said he wasn’t good enough for her.

Every guess is bad. But not as bad as the truth.

Ashlin always asks to go to the bathroom near the end of her senior English class, which is the period right before her lunch. I know because I’ve been watching her for a few days. You’d think Mr. Malone, the teacher, would wise up or at least tell her no when he’s in the middle of discussing a passage, but he never does. I think he has a crush on her. Whenever he has the students read quietly at their desks, I’ve caught him peering over his newspaper at her. And one time, as he was walking up and down the aisles handing back a quiz, I swear I saw him peek down her shirt.

Gross.

Anyway, Ashlin spends a good fifteen minutes at the mirror fussing with her hair and touching up her makeup. She wants to make sure she looks her best, because the second the bell rings, she’s off to meet up with Derek at his locker so they can walk to the cafeteria together.

She’s in love with him. I know it because of the way she acts around him, nervous. I can feel her heart beating faster whenever he’s near her, fast like a hummingbird’s. And her speaking voice gets a lot higher pitched. And because her notebooks are full of his name, doodled over and over again. Ashlin is very good at bubble letters.

Unfortunately for her, Derek doesn’t feel the same way about her. He flirts with her and holds her hand, and he’ll sometimes carry her books for her. But I also know Derek sneaks notes to other girls in school, mainly freshmen and sophomores. He gets lots of texts from other girls too, but deletes them right away. I wasn’t sure why, but then I saw Ashlin take his phone and check it once, when he went to get a drink.

Derek is shady. Just like Reeve.

Which makes Ashlin and me kindred spirits in a way.

When an emotional connection is forged with a spirit, the apparition will reveal him- or herself in his or her most vibrant state, one that is indistinguishable from the living.

I wait in the last stall until Ashlin comes in. She pulls a paper towel from the dispenser and lays it on the sink before setting her purse down, to make sure it doesn’t get wet.

I close my eyes and concentrate really hard. I focus on Ash’s insecurities until I can feel them inside myself. It’s like two notes, and I make myself in harmony with her. It reminds me of that first time I met Kat and Lillia; it feels like that. Like we are completely in harmony with each other.

Then, when I open my eyes, everything around me seems brighter. The white porcelain of the toilet, the graffiti on the stall walls, the light coming through the frosted window.

I’m visible.

I step out of the stall, and Ashlin’s eyes move off her reflection in the mirror and onto me.

“Oh,” I say with a smile. “Hey, Ashlin.”

Ashlin smiles at me in the mirror. I can tell she’s trying to place me, trying to remember if she should know my name or not. “Hey there,” she says.

I walk up to the sink next to hers. “You don’t know me, but I’m on the yearbook committee. A bunch of us were saying the other day how your senior portrait is the prettiest one of all the senior girls.”

Ashlin turns around. “That is so sweet of you to say. I was actually choosing between that shot and another one where I’m not showing my teeth when I smile. I went back and forth for, like, weeks, but Derek said the one I picked made my hair look blonder, so.”

“It’s true.” I make like I am going to walk out, but then I stop and turn back around. I bite on my pinky, like I’m deliberating something, and then I say, “I feel so bad for Alex. But then again, Reeve’s been violent before, so maybe it’s not surprising that he’d lash out like that when someone finally stood up to his bullying.” Ashlin opens her mouth, like she’s going to say something. But then she just nods, so I keep going. “Actually, it’s almost exactly like what happened with him and that poor girl in seventh grade. Except less tragic, obviously.” I shake my head. “No wonder Lillia doesn’t want to be with someone like that. He’s got blood on his hands.”

She frowns and says, “What are you talking about?”

I look over both my shoulders and then lower my voice. “Reeve bullied a girl so badly she killed herself.”

Ashlin’s eyes widen. “What?”

And then I give her all the gory details. I tell her everything. Ash shakes her head a few times, but I know she believes me. I can feel it.

After Ashlin practically sprints out of the bathroom, I spend the rest of the day watching the story spread like wildfire. Some kids say they vaguely remember hearing about that girl. Big Easy. From church, or swim lessons. But after they hear what I went through, I bet none of them will forget me.

When I get to Reeve’s house, he’s having a full-blown fight with his mom in the kitchen. She’s holding his fist in a bowl of ice water. I can see it’s swollen and bruised on top of the old cuts he got punching his bathroom walls.

“You could lose your acceptance to Graydon. What do you have if you don’t get a fifth year? Nothing! All that hard work by you and Lillia will be for nothing.”

“I’m not going to lose my acceptance.”

“If they get wind of a three-day suspension, you think they’ll be happy?” She shakes her head. “I keep debating calling over to the Linds and apologizing on your behalf—”

“Mom, stop, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

She glares at him. “It is a big deal. You’ve had a rough year. Your injury, Rennie’s death, and now this,” she says, lifting his hand out of the bowl. Reeve looks away. He doesn’t want to see it. “I’m going to call Dr. Clark. I bet I still have his number.”

“Mom!” Reeve shouts.

At that, Reeve’s dad ambles in and digs around in the fridge. “Not this again. I’m not spending another couple hundred for some overeducated WASP to try to convince us that our son is depressed and possibly suicidal. Teen boys get into fistfights, just like seventh-grade boys want to climb on lighthouses and be little daredevil shits.” He pops open a can of beer, and both Reeve and his mom look up at the sound.

When his dad walks out, Reeve clenches his teeth and says, “I hate him.”

His mom puts her finger to her lips. “Reeve, please, don’t start with your father. He’s had a rough day. You know how it is when tourist season starts and the summer people come back in demanding this and that from him.”

At that, Reeve pushes away from the table so hard the ice water bath sloshes onto the floor, and he stalks out. Mrs. Tabatsky grabs a towel and starts to cry.

Things in the Tabatsky house are falling apart, but for me it’s all coming together.