I'll Stop the World, page 36
JUSTIN
The first time I died, I didn’t understand what had happened to me. I thought maybe I was still alive, or asleep. I thought I was a time traveler. And maybe I was.
This time, I recognize it for what it is. I don’t wonder whether I might come back after this. I know I am finished. Maybe a version of me will exist, someday. A boy with my face and birthday and voice. But he won’t be me.
My life ended the moment I fell from this bridge. It just took me a week to die.
They say that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes.
Turns out, that’s only partially true.
I don’t see my life. I see the people in it.
Flash.
Alyssa. She deserves so much more than what I’ve been able to give her. Maybe that future me, the one who will not be me, will be better for her. I hope he will.
Flash.
Stan. He was wrong about what I would have to do, but he did his best. Maybe he hated me because he knew I was doomed to fail. Maybe I hated him because, somehow, I knew he already had.
Stan won’t exist now. No one will mourn him. I don’t think he would mind.
Flash.
My mom. I don’t think of her as I last saw her, passed out facedown on her bed. Instead, I think of Millie, smiling and laughing as she plays at her mother’s feet. She loves, and knows she is loved. Maybe this time, she will get to hold on to that feeling as she grows up. Maybe she will be happy. I hope she gets to be happy.
Flash.
Bill and Veronica. My grandparents. I hope Noah saved them tonight. I never really knew them—even as I was trying to save them, I didn’t know them. They are good people, though; I’m sure of that. Just as I’m sure that I was never here for them.
Flash.
That night on the bridge, the first time I died. I didn’t recognize her then, but the memory is as clear now as looking through a window. A figure in my headlights, standing somewhere she was never meant to be.
Flash.
Rose.
It was always Rose.
Rose, who was so sure that I was here for a reason. Rose, who Stan spent his whole life missing. Rose, who was never supposed to die here tonight.
Rose, the girl the whole universe bent to save.
I told her that I didn’t know if I believed in God. I told Mrs. Hanley the same thing.
Mrs. Hanley told me that maybe God believed in me. That never felt right. But maybe that’s because it was never about me. Maybe I’m here because God—or the universe, or whatever it is—believes in Rose.
Chapter Seventy-Six
ROSE
What just happened?
Rose pressed a hand to her head, trying to still the ringing in her ears. She groaned as she slowly got to her feet. Justin had thrown her with a shocking amount of strength. She’d slammed back down like a crashing plane, skidding on her bare arms and leaving a good amount of skin embedded in the wet pavement.
Everything hurt.
But she was alive. If Justin hadn’t pushed her out of the way—
Oh God, no.
Rose turned slowly, toward the truck balancing half-on, half-off the sidewalk. Abruptly, the rain slowed to a light drizzle, like it had served its purpose and was now ready to move on. The driver had gotten out—Shawn, she registered with dull surprise—and was staring at something on the ground with a horrified expression. His hands were fisted tight in his hair, like he wanted to pull it all from his head.
“Shawn?” Rose called. Her voice sounded like she’d swallowed razor blades.
His eyes met hers, wide and empty. Like a corpse, she thought with a sense of strange detachment.
“I didn’t mean to,” he said, his voice high and scared. “You have to believe me, Rose. I didn’t mean to.”
Rose didn’t ask what he meant. She walked slowly around the truck, until she could get a good look at the boy on the ground.
This was the second time she’d stood over his body on this bridge.
As Rose looked at Justin’s still face, her heart seemed to stop. Slowly, she knelt beside him but didn’t touch him. There was no point. His eyes were wide and unblinking, his chest still. Blood was everywhere, spilling out of him like a cracked egg.
For a long moment, Rose just stared, her body numb.
Justin was dead. How could Justin be dead?
She closed her eyes, struggling to remember how to breathe. All around her, the world shattered into dust. Death wasn’t supposed to win today. They were supposed to stop it.
She’d been so sure. But she’d been wrong.
It’s okay, a voice whispered in her mind.
Not her voice. His.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears leaking from her closed eyelids.
It’s not your fault.
“I should’ve tried harder.”
This is why I was here.
Air filled her lungs. As she breathed in, she knew he was truly gone.
She opened her eyes, her heart aching. She was surprised to see Karl Derrin standing beside Shawn, face red and tear-streaked, eyes wide. Where had he come from? How long had he been here?
Shawn looked down at him, dazed. “It was you?”
“I’m sorry,” Karl whimpered. “I-I was just trying to—”
Shawn shook his head wearily. “It doesn’t matter.” He sniffed, twisting his neck to wipe his nose on the shoulder of his sweatshirt. He dragged his gaze back to Justin’s body. “We have to bury him,” he said thickly.
“What?” Rose asked, incredulous. “We need to go to the police.”
“What are they going to do?” He gestured to Justin’s contorted body on the ground. “They can’t help him now.”
“That doesn’t matter!”
Karl took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders, his limbs trembling. “I agree with Rose.”
Shawn stared at him, seeming dazed. Then his expression shifted, and he slowly shook his head, his brow furrowed with something like—but not quite—concern. “Are you sure about that, buddy? I mean, if you hadn’t distracted me, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“You think I’ll get in trouble?” Karl whispered, his face going pale.
“Maybe. Do you know what manslaughter is?”
Karl shook his head vehemently. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to go to the police.”
Shawn patted him on the shoulder. “Good call, buddy. I’d hate for you to have to go to jail.”
Rose couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Shawn, he’s just a kid.”
Shawn glared at her with a calculated coldness she’d never seen before. “So am I.”
Rose’s blood turned to ice in her veins. This wasn’t the Shawn she knew. The one who had shown up to every fundraiser for Mrs. Hanley, the one who had dated her sister for a year and then hugged her when she finally told him the truth, the one who had tried to give her an awkward heart-to-heart about her nonexistent love life.
No, this was someone else. Someone she didn’t recognize.
He looked at Karl, pasting a strange, determined smile on his face. “Time to be brave, buddy.” He walked around the back of the truck and opened the tailgate. A few seconds later, he came back holding two shovels, and handed one to Karl.
Rose shook her head, horrified. She wondered if she might throw up. “You can’t just throw him away!”
“We don’t have a choice, Rose,” Shawn said, his voice eerily void of expression. He unzipped his sweatshirt, swiping a sleeve across the damp hair on his forehead. Underneath, he wore a shirt and tie. He must’ve been headed to the debate.
Except . . . the community center was in the opposite direction. What was he doing out here on the bridge?
“Karl, grab that tarp out of the bed and bring it over here,” Shawn said, walking slowly around Justin’s body, his head tilted to one side. He nudged Justin’s shoe with his toe, making Rose’s stomach turn.
“Karl, stop,” Rose said, beckoning to the younger boy. “Come here. You don’t have to do this. We’ll explain to the police what happened. You won’t get in trouble.”
“Don’t listen to her, bud,” Shawn said, his face still twisted into that unsettling smile. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“I know that you can’t just bury people on riverbanks and get away with it.” Rose could hardly believe she was having this conversation. Could hardly believe any of this was happening.
Did the Shawn she thought she knew even exist? Had she been wrong about him all this time?
Or was this Shawn the impostor? If she pushed hard enough, would she find her friend still inside?
Shawn spread his arms, gesturing at the empty bridge. “Who’s going to find out? Does anyone else even know he was here? As long as we all agree not to say anything—”
“I’m not agreeing to that.”
The smile fell from his face. “I thought you were my friend.”
“I am your friend.”
“Then help me!” Shawn’s eyes were round and frantic. “Rose, this could destroy my whole life. I could go to jail. How could you do that to me?”
“I’m not doing anything to you!”
“Yes, you are. No one has to know. Unless you tell them.”
“If you’d just explain to the police what happened—”
His head wagged stubbornly back and forth, hands buried in his hair again. “I can’t. This is the only way. You have to help me, Rose. No one can know.”
She tore her eyes away from Justin’s unmoving body to look at her friend. His skin was pale in the light of the streetlamps, his eyes wide. He looked like a trapped animal. “Shawn,” she said quietly, taking a step toward him. “It was an accident.”
He stared at her, clutching the shovel. “Everything will be ruined,” he whispered. “Please.”
She knelt beside Justin, taking his limp hand in hers. It was still warm. She remembered the last time she’d held his hand, right before everything between them fell apart. Had that been only yesterday?
“He was my friend,” she said, her voice hitching. She reached out to Justin’s still face, and gently closed his eyes. “We can’t pretend this didn’t happen, Shawn. You know we can’t.”
Shawn was quiet for a while, and Rose gradually realized that he was crying, his breath coming in quick gasps. “I’m sorry, Rosie,” he said finally, his voice barely more than a broken sob.
All she could do was nod, the lump in her throat bubbling up to her eyes, then spilling over.
He fell to his knees beside her, his shoulders shaking with sobs. “I didn’t mean it,” he repeated over and over, hugging his stomach as if to hold himself together.
She gathered him into her arms, rubbing his back. “I know,” she said, her own face wet with tears. Shawn buried his face in her shoulder, his grief soaking into the thin fabric of her shirt.
Rose’s eyes met Karl’s over Shawn’s head. “Run home,” she said softly. “Call the police.”
His eyes darted to Shawn. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Karl sprinted out of the glow of the headlights, his footsteps fading into the quiet night.
Rose knelt on the sidewalk as Shawn wept, trying not to think of Justin’s broken body on the ground or the Warrens in the high school. By now, the fire, if there was a fire, would have already started. She was too late.
If Justin was right, they were gone, too.
But also—if Justin was right, he was Stan. If Justin was right, he should still be alive.
Yet he was dead.
Did that mean he’d changed things?
If he was dead, did that mean Bill and Veronica had lived?
Or if he was dead, had it all been for nothing?
She didn’t want to answer that question. She didn’t want any of this.
Rose knelt on the pavement until her knees ached and she heard sirens in the distance, holding Justin’s killer until they were both washed in flashing red.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
NOAH
Noah walked to the school, even though he was pretty sure he was wasting his time. He’d mostly agreed to it just to get Justin to stop speaking nonsense. “It can’t be me,” Justin had kept repeating, getting more and more agitated as he moved toward Noah in the street. “I’m not supposed to be there at all. I thought I was, but I was wrong. That was Stan’s mistake. He thought it was supposed to be us, but it’s not. We’re here for something else. It has to be you.”
Noah couldn’t follow most of what Justin was talking about, but he didn’t need to in order to understand what he wanted him to do. He wanted Noah to go to the school to try to save the Warrens from the fire he was convinced was about to happen. It was easy enough for Noah just to say yes.
Besides, maybe Rose was already there. They’d planned to go to the school anyway. Didn’t hurt to check.
Rain was beginning to fall as he approached the school parking lot, the wind picking up to whip the trees that surrounded the lot into a frenzy, sending showers of wet leaves to the ground. Noah flipped up his collar, wishing he’d worn a coat with a hood, and walked around the corner of the building toward the main entrance, where the guidance office was.
Noah caught his breath, his stomach surging into his throat.
Parked in front of the school was an idling car. The headlights were still on.
Smoke swirled in the beams.
Noah crouched down as low as he could as he entered the lobby, pulling his shirt up over his mouth and nose. It looked like the fire had started in the office and was quickly spreading. Noah’s heart pounded as he calculated how long he had until it consumed the whole building.
He pressed deeper into the smoke, coughing into his shirt. Thick black clouds burned his eyes, and tears ran freely down his cheeks. Somewhere in here, Bill and Veronica Warren were in trouble. In Justin’s future, they were going to die.
Unless Noah could save them.
He couldn’t see anything. He edged forward, one arm outstretched, sliding his feet along the floor tiles, navigating by memory. The office should be directly in front of him. Justin had said that’s where their bodies were found, so that’s where Noah needed to look.
His fingers bumped against something unyielding. A wall? His hands explored the surface before him, following the painted cinder blocks over until he found the open door.
“Hello?” Noah called. He tried to edge into the office, but his feet nudged something soft on the floor. He knelt down and rubbed his eyes, blinking in the smoke-clogged space. Veronica Warren lay sprawled on her stomach halfway out the door, one arm stretched in front of her. Bill lay a couple of yards behind her, his feet pointed toward the door.
Veronica must have been trying to drag him out, then given up only to quickly pass out herself. Noah fervently hoped he’d have better luck.
Rolling Veronica onto her back, Noah heaved her up over his shoulder, stumbling slightly under her weight. Picking her up pulled his shirt collar down, leaving his face open to the smoke.
Noah glanced down uneasily at Mr. Warren, unmoving on the floor. He hated leaving him here, but it was either save them one at a time, or not at all.
Holding his breath, Noah carried Veronica toward the doors of the school, praying he’d have enough time to come back.
THIRTY-EIGHT YEARS LATER
Chapter Seventy-Eight
ROSE
Raising her bright-pink World’s Best Grandma mug to her lips, Rose cautiously tasted her coffee, then grimaced. Cold, again.
What she really needed was one of those insulated mugs with a lid—the students were always selling them for one fundraiser or another—but Noah, bursting with pride, had given her this one on the day their first grandchild was born, and she didn’t have the heart to tell him that it wasn’t really practical for work. Being principal of Stone Lake High was an ever-lengthening to-do list of visiting classrooms, attending meetings, coordinating with staff, replying to emails, and making calls, and she could never manage more than a couple of sips in between tasks. One cup of coffee could easily last her the entire morning.
Maybe she should look into getting a microwave for her office. But then she’d probably just forget the coffee in there all day, instead of on her desk.
The secretary appeared in the doorway, rapping her knuckles on the doorframe. “Dr. Hanley, the Warrens are here.”
Unbidden, her eyes filled with tears. She ripped a couple of tissues from the box on her desk and dabbed at the corners, blinking furiously. Don’t cry, she ordered herself. It was just a scholarship meeting. That was all. She did a dozen of these at the end of every school year. Nothing to get worked up over.
But none of those other meetings had been for him.
“Thank you, Alice. They can come in.”
She picked up her phone, tapped out a text. They’re here.
The response came immediately. He must have been waiting for her message. Good luck. Love you.
Rose tucked her phone into her top desk drawer as her visitors entered the office, reminding herself to keep her smile reined in and her eyes appropriately principal-y. “Hello, Ms. Warren, Justin. Welcome,” she said, shaking their hands.
Her voice didn’t tremble. She was well practiced.
Justin and his mother seated themselves in the two upholstered armchairs in front of her desk. Rose had been aware of him, of course, as he’d risen through the ranks of Stone Lake High—the first time she’d spotted him in the halls as a gangly freshman, she’d had to excuse herself to her office, where she’d sobbed for a solid twenty minutes—but she hadn’t had much opportunity to interact with him individually, until now.
Ever since the results had come in with this year’s list of National Merit Finalists, she’d been looking forward to this meeting, and dreading it. It wasn’t every day she got an opportunity to look at one of her students and know, for sure, that she’d influenced his life for the better.
But she couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t ever know what they’d been through together. That version of Justin had died in 1985. He existed now in only her memories.
The version in front of her smiled pleasantly, sitting up straight in his chair. His hair was blond, not the garish orange it had been when she’d first met him, although she still noticed a subtle line of black rimming his eyelids. He wore black jeans and sneakers—were they the same ones he’d been wearing the night they met? The night he died? She hated that she couldn’t remember—and when he folded his hands in his lap, she could see an elaborate constellation of stars doodled in black marker along the inside of his arm.
