I Heart You, You Haunt Me Read online

  thinking of how

  Jackson and I

  used to

  sit and swing

  together.

  The stars are duller

  than an old pocketknife.

  They used to sparkle

  like five-carat diamonds.

  I wonder,

  is heaven

  up in the stars?

  Beyond the stars?

  Can Jackson see them

  like I see them?

  Is he wishing

  like I’m wishing?

  “Star light, star bright,” he said the first time

  we sat here together.

  “Make my wish come true tonight,” I said.

  “That’s not how it goes.”

  “Why drag it out?” I asked.

  He laughed. “So, what’s your wish?”

  “That time would stop,

  so we could stay like this forever.”

  “Tough wish,” he said.

  “What about you?” I asked.

  “Let’s see.

  I’m hungry.

  How about a cheeseburger?”

  “How romantic,” I told him.

  “Change your wish to a chocolate shake and we’re set.”

  We went to In-N-Out Burger after that.

  He got his wish.

  I didn’t get mine.

  I Need Mr. Sandman

  Sleep doesn’t come.

  Night after night

  I thrash around

  like a fish

  caught in a net

  trying to escape.

  And I cry

  for what I’ve done

  and who I’ve lost.

  Four days after the funeral,

  Mom shows me the phone messages

  she’s taken for me.

  I didn’t want to talk

  to anyone.

  Jackson’s brother, Daniel, called.

  Jessa and Zoe called.

  Nick called,

  again.

  I ball them up

  and throw them away.

  “You’re tired,” Mom says.

  She calls the doctor.

  He prescribes Ambien.

  “That’s good,” Mom says.

  “Sleep will help.”

  Will anything really help?

  When I wake up,

  I remember.

  It hurts

  to remember.

  Mom brings me a sandwich

  and some juice.

  I get up to pee

  and sneak another pill.

  “I need to sleep a little more,” I tell Mom.

  She doesn’t argue.

  Because sleep helps.

  Company’s Coming

  The phone rings.

  It rings and rings.

  I finally drag

  my butt out of bed

  and answer it.

  “Ava?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you want to do something?” Cali asks.

  “Maybe go to the pool?”

  “Not really.”

  “Wanna do something else?”

  “Not really.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Not really.”

  “Can I come over?”

  “I guess.”

  “You need anything?”

  But before I can answer, she says, “Never mind.

  Stupid question.”

  Stupid.

  But sweet.

  Mirror, Mirror

  I’m putting on makeup.

  I’ll be like a clown

  and no one will see

  the real face

  behind the mask.

  I don’t want Cali to see

  the sad me,

  the depressed me,

  the shamed me.

  As I stand in the bathroom,

  carefully lining my eyelids

  bronze,

  I feel a splash

  of cool air.

  I shiver.

  I feel something.

  Something behind me.

  Something familiar.

  Hauntingly familiar.

  I glance behind me,

  but I don’t see

  anything.

  Or anyone.

  And then,

  when I look in the mirror

  again,

  I see,

  for a split second,

  not just me,

  but someone else.

  Jackson.

  Food for Thought

  Cali’s knocking,

  so I turn and run.

  As I run down the stairs,

  I’m thinking there must be such a thing

  as too much sleep.

  That wasn’t really him.

  It couldn’t have been him.

  Could it?

  When I open the door,

  she gives me her

  best girlfriend hug

  and I realize

  how much I have missed

  my Cali.

  We go to the kitchen,

  plop down at the table.

  “Thanks for coming,” I say.

  She looks at her watch.

  “You hungry?”

  “I could eat.”

  I get up

  and open the pantry door.

  I don’t even know

  if it’s time for breakfast

  or lunch

  or dinner.

  “What time is it?” I ask.

  “11:00.”

  I stand there, staring at the boxes

  of crackers

  and cereal,

  trying to focus

  on food

  and not

  on what I just saw

  in the mirror.

  The cool air

  surrounds me again.

  I get goose bumps.

  I feel him, standing there,

  next to me,

  like he’s hungry too,

  looking for something to eat.

  “Did you feel that?” I ask.

  “What?” she says.

  “Nothing.”

  She’ll think I’m crazy.

  Maybe she’d be right.

  And then,

  there’s the slightest hint of

  something brushing

  my cheek.

  Not a touch,

  less than a touch.

  A whisper.

  No, a feeling.

  Just a feeling.

  Or maybe,

  just my imagination.

  I shiver again.

  Am I going crazy?

  “I think you need to get out,” Cali says.

  “Let’s go to the mall.

  For some yummy food court food,

  and a little shopping, if you want.”

  I shrug. “I guess.”

  This is good.

  I’m a normal girl

  going to the mall.

  Not crazy.

  Not a girl

  who’s beginning to think

  she’s being haunted

  by her dead

  boyfriend.

  Okay or Not Okay?

  Cali has a green VW bug.

  Cute.

  Fun.

  Perfect.

  Like Cali.

  I was going to work

  so I could buy a car

  when I turn sixteen

  on August 15th.

  Oh well.

  All the things that

  used to be so important

  aren’t important

  anymore.

  “We haven’t been to the mall together in a long time,” Cali says.

  “Yeah.

  The last time I was there, Jackson bought me-”

  I stop.

  I look out the window.

  There’s an old man

  with an old woman,

  sitting on a bench,

  waiting for the bus.

  He’s looking at a newspaper.
/>
  She’s looking at him.

  She says something.

  He looks at her.

  He smiles.

  She smiles.

  The scene is so simple,

  so lovely,

  so perfect.

  “It’s okay to talk about him,” Cali says.

  “I know.”

  “What did he buy you?”

  I don’t want to say.

  But she asked.

  “That black-and-pink bikini.

  To wear to the School’s Out party.”

  She nods.

  She remembers.

  If she had known

  it would bring up

  that tragic day,

  she wouldn’t have asked.

  She shakes her head.

  Turns the radio up.

  I guess sometimes

  it’s not okay

  to talk about

  him.

  Cali

  As she fiddles with the radio,

  Cali’s blue-and-purple bracelet

  twists and slides

  on her arm.

  The summer

  between fifth and sixth grades,

  we rode our bikes

  to the pool

  almost every day.

  Then we came home

  and made necklaces and bracelets

  out of beads.

  We loved

  sitting

  and talking

  and making

  beautiful jewelry

  together.

  We sold our creations

  to kids in the neighborhood.

  My dad called us little entrepreneurs.

  I called us best friends.

  “You still wear the bracelet I made for you,” I say,

  thinking how it’s so amazing

  she’s kept it

  all this time.

  “I love it.

  Where’s the one I made for you?”

  “I lost it.”

  “I’ll make you another one,” she says.

  “We can buy some beads at the mall.”

  That’s Cali.

  The one who will do

  anything for me.

  Thank God for Cali.

  Wondering

  I shop,

  but I don’t buy.

  I eat,

  but I don’t taste.

  Cali talks,

  but I don’t listen.

  My mind’s drifting,

  thinking about him.

  Wondering if I’ll feel that cool air,

  feel that brush against my cheek,

  feel Jackson again,

  when I go home.

  It couldn’t have been him.

  I’m being ridiculous.

  Still,

  it’s not long before

  I want to go home

  and find out

  for sure.

  The Way My Life Changed

  I lean my head back

  on the car seat

  as we drive home.

  With my eyes closed,

  I search for a memory

  that will make me

  smile.

  And then,

  I remember the night

  my life changed

  forever.

  The silver bleachers

  filled with kids

  in black and red,

  cheering the football team

  to victory.

  It was a warm September night.

  The best kind of Friday night.

  My favorite kind of high school night.

  He was two rows up.

  Behind me.

  Watching me.

  Or so he told me later.

  Cali, Jessa, and Zoe

  went to get us food.

  I stayed

  to save our seats.

  And that’s when

  he made his move.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  “I’m Jackson.”

  “I know.

  Everyone knows who you are.”

  His cheeks turned

  the color of watermelon.

  His eyes greener

  than the rind.

  He was so cute,

  from the top of his sexy bald head

  to the tips of his PacSun shoes.

  The way he looked at me

  made me quiver

  and quake.

  It was a good thing

  I was sitting down.

  My legs wouldn’t have

  held me up.

  Who Are You?

  “Do you know who I am?” I asked.

  “No. But I’d like to.”

  “Ava Bender.”

  “Ava,”

  he said.

  “I like that name.

  Ava.”

  I loved the way

  he said my name.

  He talked about the game,

  and about his old school.

  He talked about how moving sucked,

  and about being the new kid,

  which sucked even more.

  I talked about living in the same house

  my whole life

  with a mom who works a lot

  and a dad who travels a lot.

  “Tell me something about Ava no one else knows,” he said.

  “No one?”

  I had to think hard

  on that one.

  “I really hate being alone,” I finally said.

  “Then it’s a good thing I’m here.”

  That made me smile.

  “Now it’s your turn,” I told him.

  “I want to go out with you.”

  That made me smile

  even more.

  I couldn’t say anything

  because my friends came back.

  Jackson didn’t move.

  They squeezed in

  on the other side of me.

  I introduced them.

  They looked at me

  like I’d just won

  the lottery.

  But it was way better

  than that.

  The Other Side

  The green bug

  backs away.

  I wave

  and smile

  like everything’s fine,

  while inside

  I’m freaking out

  because I don’t know

  if he’s waiting for me

  on the other side

  of that door.

  Awake

  I move from one room

  to the next.

  Downstairs.

  Upstairs.

  I whisper his name.

  “Jackson?

  How do I find you?”

  I go to the bathroom

  and stare into the mirror.

  I look more awake

  than I’ve been

  in weeks.

  Like a kid

  who wakes up really early

  on Christmas day

  and can’t wait

  to see what’s under

  the tree.

  I stand in front of the mirror

  for minutes.

  Maybe hours.

  “Ava, I’m home,” Mom calls from downstairs.

  “Are you awake?”

  Suddenly,

  the air temperature drops,

  and this time

  there’s no confusion.

  Jackson’s face

  flashes

  next to mine.

  I’d say

  awake

  is an

  understatement.

  Home Is Where the Heart Is

  Mom makes spaghetti.

  She makes it

  because I love it.

  And because she’s happy

  I’m awake.

  “Feeling better?” she asks.

  “Yeah.

  Cali took me to the mall.”

  “Good.

  I was starting to worry.
”

  “Mom, it’s Thursday, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dad comes home tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” she says. “Should we go to the beach this weekend?”

  No.

  NO!

  I don’t want to go anywhere.

  If Jackson’s here,

  I have to stay here.

  “Can we just stay home?

  Watch some movies?”

  She smiles.

  “That sounds nice.”

  “Thanks for the spaghetti.

  It was good.”

  “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

  It’s nick Again

  Nick calls Thursday night,

  to express

  his concern for me

  one more time.

  I tell him I’m okay,

  and there’s nothing he can do

  because I just buried my boyfriend

  and of course I’m really not

  that

  okay.

  “I just want you to know I’m here for you, Ava.

  If you need me.”

  It’s weird.

  Does he want a second chance?

  Does he want to be the rebound guy?

  Or maybe

  he is loving

  every minute

  of my grief

  and unhappiness.

  Maybe he’s thinking

  I had it coming.

  And maybe,

  just maybe,

  I did.

  What Did It Mean?

  Dare:

  a challenge

  to do something dangerous

  or foolhardy.

  I dare you.

  Three

  stupid

  words.

  I dared him to order octopus at a restaurant and to eat it all.

  He dared me to write a love letter, sign it Secret Admirer, and

  sneak it to a teacher.

  I dared him to pretend he was blind in the crystal section of

  the department store.

  This game,

  or whatever it was,

  became our little

  thing.

  Jackson,

  the rock climber,

  the white-water rafter,

  the extreme skier guy,

  loved the feel of adrenaline

  ROARING

  through his veins.

  For me,

  it was scary,

  and exhilarating,

  all at the same time.

  But I could have lived

  without it.

  All I needed

  was Jackson.

  I wish all he’d needed

  was me.

  A Strange Sensation

  I can hear my heart

  beat

  beat

  beating

  in the darkness

  as I try

  to go to sleep.

  The clock says 12:08.

  Mom is asleep by now.

  I get up

  and go down the stairs

  to make hot cocoa.

  Will he be there,

  waiting for me?

  My heart is

  beat

  beat

  beating

  faster,

  even though

  there’s no sign of him.