CHAPTER SIX

Crosby brings me to a spacious room in what he tells me is the admin building, just a few doors down from his office. We sit on an overstuffed couch facing a wall of windows. The view is stunning. A bustling city spreads out before us on the base of a hill. An array of wildly varying buildings climbs upward in a hodgepodge of organized chaos and vanishes into the clouds. Despite all that’s happened, it’s nearly impossible to look away, even to listen to Crosby and the answers he’s promised will be forthcoming.

“Sorry,” I say. “It’s … wow.”

“That’s Atman City for you. But don’t go getting any ideas. That place isn’t for you.”

“Why not?”

“We’ll get into that in a bit.” He rests a thick manual against the arm of the couch. “I need you to really listen to what I’m about to tell you. Okay?”

He locks eyes with me. “As to the question you’ve been too afraid to ask since you arrived, the answer is yes.”

It’s a good thing I’m sitting down, because my legs have turned to jelly. “What do you mean?”

“You died today, Dez.”

The cruel words cut right through me. I shake my head in a weak attempt at denial.

Is this what it was like for Aaron? Could the universe really do this to a twelve-year-old?

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Crosby says. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but you really are dead. So am I. So is everyone you’ve encountered today, everyone in the station, and everyone on the train that brought you here.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Yes, you do.”

He takes my hand in his, but I pull free. “Why are you doing this?” I’m shrill, hysterical. I jump to my feet and rush to the window.

“Dez, honey, you need to calm down. I really don’t want to have to call for another intervention.”

“Go ahead and call Gideon! What do I care? How much worse than dead can it get?”

“It was your time.”

“Bullshit!” I slap my palms and kick my feet against the window. “I don’t believe in fate!”

“Does it matter? Look around. Fate believes in you.” His kind voice is wrapped in a sharp package.

My foot crashes against the window with more than enough force to break bones, but a flash of pain is the only consequence. Unrelenting, my fists pound against the glass. It must be quite a sight, a petite teenager in a pretty dress going berserk, my carefully woven braids flying around my head as I rage, but I don’t care.

I’m never going home again.

No more Sunday morning pancakes. Mom always saves the biggest, fluffiest ones for me.

No graduations—high school or college. I'll never know what it's like to take that walk across the stage.

No more first kisses or first dances.

No more first anything.

“I want to go home!” I scream.

Crosby joins me at the window but makes no physical attempt to stop me. He speaks like he’s talking to a frightened animal instead of a girl. “Slow down. I know it’s a lot to take in, but let it settle for a minute.” He puts a gentle hand on my shoulder.

I shove his hand away. “I’m seventeen! I have a whole life to live! I worked my ass off to get into Brown, and for what? Cello lessons, French club, track … what does any of it mean now?”

“Look at me,” he orders.

My breathing is ragged as I force myself to calm down. Thoughts of Gideon and the consequences of crossing him drag rational Dez back from the abyss.

Crosby’s gaze is piercing. “I know you’re upset—”

“Upset? I just found out the life I’ve been working so hard on is done before it even got going.”

He nods. “It’s devastating, I know, but you need to let it settle. There’s something else we need to talk about right now.”

“I can’t do this.” I collapse onto the couch.

I’ll never see the lights of Paris.

I’ll never be a maid of honor. I’ll never have a maid of honor.

I don’t even get to say goodbye.