The Alchemy of Forever

brand-new patterns, their gentle light flickering down to Earth, shining on the neighbor boy’s crow-black hair.

twelve
     
    I’m awoken by the clatter of dishes and the scent of coffee and food. Ruby-tinged light floods through the lace curtains. I jolt upright, my heart racing, sure that Cyrus has found me. Then I see the green bedspread and realize where I am. I groan, berating myself for having missed my opportunity to sneak out. It’s far past dawn and the Morgan family is most definitely up.
    I hear the sound of approaching footsteps, and moments later Mrs. Morgan’s face appears in the open door. “Morning, sweetie. How do you feel today?”
    “Um, okay,” I stammer. Truthfully, I feel like hell. I tossed and turned all night, my mind churning with nightmares. In them I was chasing my mother through a dense forest, her dark hair streaming out behind her. I couldn’t see Cyrus, but I knew he was near. Little piles of powder kept erupting into colorful flames around me, dizzying violet and red, pale starlit yellow and lime green, and Cyrus’s voice rang out through the trees: Sera, I told you death was only an illusion. Just as I finally caught up to my mother, her hair turned a shocking blond and Cyrus’s voice boomed from her mouth. I’m coming for you, he said with a snarl.
    Mrs. Morgan sits on the bed and looks at me with concern. I realize I’d fallen asleep in jeans and a sweatshirt. “I think,” she says firmly, “that you need to stay home from school today. I’ll stay with you.”
    I’m not sure how to respond. I imagine Kailey would be psyched to stay home from school, but the thought of spending the day with the mother of the girl I killed makes me feel physically ill. I need to get to the docks, and it will probably be easier able to slip away between classes than to escape from Mrs. Morgan’s watchful eye.
    I manage a weak smile. “I think I should go to school. Honestly, I feel fine.”
    Bryan sticks his head in the door, a piece of toast in his hand. “Are you seriously asking to go to school? Kiss ass.”
    “I’d really rather go,” I tell him.
    “I know.” He grins. “Just giving you a hard time.”
    Mrs. Morgan looks between the two of us, hesitating. “Okay. You can go. But you need to eat first. I’ll go make you something.” She heads back to the kitchen, and Bryan turns to follow her.
    “Hey, Bryan?” I push myself into a sitting position.
    “Yes, O spoiled one?”
    “Could you . . . not say anything to anyone at school about the car accident? I don’t want this getting around.”
    Bryan looks shocked. “I thought your life goal was being in the limelight.”
    I feel my cheeks growing hot. “I just don’t want to make a big deal about it.”
    He stares at me. “You’re blushing.”
    I turn away from him. I’ve always been a blusher, no matter what body I’m in.
    “Bryan, please.”
    “Okay. Whatever you want, weirdo.” He pops the rest of his toast in his mouth.
    After he’s gone I look through Kailey’s vintage armoire for something to wear. It smells of oiled cherry wood and laundry detergent, and the neatly hung clothes are organized by color, like an artist’s palette.
    I wonder what she would pick to wear, running my hand along a purple cashmere sweater and a deep fuchsia dress covered with a blue geometric pattern. I ultimately settle on a pair of cropped, rust-colored jeans and a burgundy, lace-trimmed tunic. The scent of jasmine has entwined itself in the fabric, reminding me with each inhale just whose clothes I am wearing.
    I race through breakfast—eggs over easy with chicken sausage—as Bryan enters the kitchen.
    “We’ve gotta go. I think I hear Noah’s car out front.”
    Noah. I wonder if that’s the neighbor boy’s name. I grab Kailey’s backpack and stare at Mrs. Morgan. Her hair is combed neatly back into a ponytail and the dark circles that had been so prominent under eyes yesterday have vanished. After a moment’s hesitation I pull her into a hug. “I love you,” I say softly, wishing I could ease the pain she’ll feel when her daughter doesn’t return home tonight.
    “Love you, too, Kailes,” Mrs. Morgan says in a slightly surprised voice. She kisses my cheek, then shoos me out the door.
    Bryan is waiting next to Noah’s ancient VW Bug, tapping his foot. “Finally,” he says, pointing toward the backseat. “Invalids have to ride in the back,” he explains with a grin.
    I feel Noah’s eyes on me as I