yelling match with the girl I love.
“You and me,” she whispers. “We’ve run our course.”
My chest feels as if it’s splitting in half. “Please don’t do this.”
“I’m not doing anything. We’re project partners. Friends. That’s more than we were last year.”
“But I love you,” I say doggedly.
She lifts her head and meets my gaze. “And I’m doing this because I love you back. I was selfish to let this start. I was selfish to let it continue. I can’t be selfish anymore. I’m not going to fight the tumor. I’m going to die, and I can’t let you tear yourself apart—not for me.”
“This is tearing me apart.”
“Not like it would if you stay.”
I step toward her, invading her space, and she lowers her head again.
“Please,” I whisper. It’s a prayer; it’s a plea. “Don’t do this.”
She shakes her head, and when she looks up at me with tears in her eyes, my heart shatters. I wrap my arms around her and she falls into me. We hold each other, cling. Desperate to make the most of the last few minutes.
“I love you.” My voice breaks, and I squeeze her tighter.
“I love you, too,” she whispers against my chest.
Veronica lifts her head and allows her fingers to brush along my neck. She edges up, I lean down, and we kiss. She tastes sweet, her tears salty, and I pour myself into her. Begging her to change her mind, letting her know how much I care.
She pulls away, and it kills me to let her go. Veronica stares at me for a heartbeat, as if she might run back into my arms, but then she pivots on her toes and leaves. Into the tree line, away from me and toward where Lachlin and Kravitz have disappeared.
Loving V requires sacrifice. That’s what Kravitz said.
Veronica’s dying. Her tumor is growing and she’s dying. The knife of that truth cuts me so deep that the pain is blinding. It doesn’t feel right. The world is only bright because of Veronica. Without her, it will be as black as midnight.
Joy. Veronica is life and joy.
The world has a hazy sensation, and my stunned brain takes a moment to readjust. I blink to help clear the confusion, to bring back focus. To force the sky to be above me, for the ground to be below me, for everything to become right again. I blink a second time, my vision does clear, but the world doesn’t return to its previous state. Not in the way that it should.
The sky is still blue. My sneakered feet touch solid ground. The grass and trees are still rooted in spot, but it’s all different. Veronica is living, but at any moment could be dying … and she won’t prevent it from happening.
A weird tingling in my veins as there is this driving need to yank her off the railroad tracks as a speeding train approaches, but then my lungs seize. That’s the problem. What she’s been trying to tell me—there’s no way off the track, only a way to slow down the speeding train. Death is inevitable, it’s only a question of how long and painful the collision will be.
A cool fall breeze wafts over my skin. It feels good after standing in the warm sun for so long. I stare down at the hairs on my arm, watch as they rise and fall with the light gust. Funny how I’ve never noticed how those hairs move before or how I never took a moment to realize how the wind feels against my skin … or the sun … or how this moment is specific to fall.
I glance around and the trees are no longer green. A mixture of yellow, reds and oranges are starting to invade the green, and then I spot the dried leaves. The ones that didn’t make it through the brutal heat of summer. The ones that didn’t outlast the others. A withered brown leaf falls from a branch and drifts to the ground. It won’t be green again or have the opportunity to be yellow, orange or red.
There’s rustling to the left and Kravitz leans his shoulder against a tree, watching me.
“That’s why she speeds up holidays,” I say, and my own voice sounds foreign. “She’s trying to live as many of them as she can before she dies.”
He nods then looks away. I rub the back of my head and doing so doesn’t help undo my new sight, but I’m not sure that I’d want