“We'll graduate to laughing. I'll have a ceremony and you can wear a mortarboard and toss it into the air.” He looks confused, which ends up making me laugh.
“You didn't have graduations back in the day?”
“Yes, we did. But you only got a mortarboard for college graduation. I was a junior when I died.” It always throws me off when Peter talks about his human life. Like he's talking about a different person he used to know. It both fascinates me and makes me feel really young and inexperienced. Also unworthy.
“Well, we'll have to make up for that.” I really need to get ready. All this chat time with Peter is going to make me late. Since he entered my life, I'm almost always late.
“I must go,” he says again.
“I know. Will you be back tonight? I've got my date with Jamie, but I'll be home before nine.” I have reservations about him being far away, but I don't want to be a needy girlfriend, so I keep them to myself.
“Yes. I will be here when you get home. But I may have to go farther away than I have.”
“Do what you have to do. I'll survive.” Barely.
“I know you will. I hate to leave you.” Not as much as I do.
“Well, the sooner you go, the sooner you'll get back.” He stands next to me at the window. I want to hug him or something, but don't. I almost fall off my feet when he kisses me. His lips are not on mine one minute, and then they are. An ambush kiss. I'm so startled, I don't do anything for a few seconds. Maybe more than seconds.
Then I'm kissing him back, reaching my arms around his neck. He puts one hand on each side of my face and pulls my head back so I'm looking right into his eyes. He doesn't even have to pull me in. I'm already there.
“What was that for?” I don't need to mention it's the first time he's kissed me. Usually I'm the one making the move. He lets me, but that's not the point. I'm always the one leaning in.
“I wanted to take the taste of your lips with me.” Oh swoon. He's been saying increasingly more swoony things lately. It totally makes up for the blood-taking.
I give him one more kiss.
“There.” I bless my stars that I brushed my teeth before he decided to do this.
“Goodbye, Ava-Claire.”
“Goodbye, Peter. I'll see you tonight.” He blinks in the affirmative, slides out the window and falls to the ground. Of course he lands like a circus acrobat. I hear Dad's car pulling out of the driveway. Good thing he's leaving.
I feel the pull as he leaves, and it gets worse as the minutes tick by. He said he might be going far, but he didn't say how far. We've never really been farther apart than a couple of miles. I feel bad about him being chained to me, but it's not really something either of us can help.
I still feel our connection, but it's like there's static on the line. The feelings aren't as clear, and they go in and out. It worries me, but I know Peter is safe with Viktor.
I'm getting ready for school when a dull pain starts somewhere near my heart. Great. I have actual heart burn. What the hell. I try to ignore it and put my jeans on.
The pain gets worse, and I take several pain pills with my breakfast in hopes that they will help, even though I know they won't. This kind of pain can't be cured by pills.
My mother is up, surprisingly, and putting dirty laundry in the washer. She must have waited until Dad left. Sneaky.
“Are you sure you should be doing that?”
“Someone has to.” Her arms look longer because they're so thin. I look away, seized by another shot of pain. It's getting sharper, knifing into my chest.
“I have to go, I'm going to be super late.” Tardy passed ten minutes ago.
“Want to play hooky?” I turn back around, trying not to show the strain on my face.
“Are you serious?” Can she read my mind now?
She throws a pair of socks into the washer like basketballs. My, don't we have the energy this morning. “I got stuff for pies. You need to learn how to make pie crust. I forgot to put that one on the list.”
“Wait, you're adding to the list now?” I have to lean against the machine and I grit my teeth.
“Well, when I think of things.” She shoves more things in the washer. It's going to take at least four loads to get it done. I'm not a huge fan of laundry. Dad isn't really, either. That's going to have to change.
“I don't have anything I can't miss.” Shh, it's a secret. I can still go out with Jamie tonight. Of all my bases that need to be covered, attending school isn't one of the important ones.
“Great, I'll call the school.” She chucks the rest of her armload in the washer and goes to call. I throw the detergent in and turn the washer on.
She comes back, throwing her arms around me. “All set.” I hug her, so grateful that she somehow knew I needed a mental health day. Mom and I have tea and sit in the morning sun that floods the dining room. I wish I could enjoy it.
As the minutes tick by, the pain in my heart region starts to get worse. More stabby. Yeah, I definitely couldn't get through a day at school. I text Tex and Jamie, telling them I'm not feeling well. Tex offers to skip school and bring me soup. I tell her nice try and that my mother is taking care of it. She does call me out of work, which I beg her not to. But Texas Sarsaparilla Anne Hamilton doesn't take no for an answer.
Jamie also offers to come over and bring my homework, which I do take him up on. My sweet Jamie. He'd be late for track practice, but he wouldn't care. Coach wouldn't either, because Jamie was his golden boy. He was everyone's golden boy. He also offers to postpone our date, but I say no.
“I feel like I haven't really seen you in a couple days.” She smacks a kiss on my forehead. “I had a chat with your father about Peter. I think I got him out of having dinner with us, but he'll have to come over some night this week after and bring coffee or something. Can he drink coffee?”
“I don't think so.” She waves it off.
“No matter. It'll work out.” She sounds almost like Peter. A jolt of agony goes through me and I grab at my chest, like I'm trying to pull the knife of pain out of me.
“Are you okay? What happened?”
“Nothing, I'm fine.” She looks at my face and sees that I'm not.
Peter
I expect the pain, but the sharp brightness of it startles me. It begins slow, and builds until it is so keen I can't see, hear, smell, taste, feel anything else.
I stop running for a moment. “What is wrong?”
“It is hard to be away from her.” My voice is strained in a way it has never been since becoming a noctalis.