desperate girl whispering in the dark and asking for something I might never get. But there was still a voice inside me, quiet and insistent, telling me to try one more time. I clutched the EMF reader more tightly in my hand. “Please.”
And something happened. Two things, right at the same time. Three lights on the meter lit up just as my cell phone buzzed on the nightstand. I ignored the phone and stared at the meter, willing it to light up again. Then I heard the tinkle of chimes from my phone alerting me to the fact that someone had left a message.
I stood up and, still holding the EMF reader, grabbed my phone, never once taking my eyes off the lights. I flipped open the phone and listened to Noah’s voice.
“Hey. I thought you might still be up. Call me if you are, okay?”
Four lights flickered this time, and I took out the digital recorder and began speaking. “Is anyone here with me?”
It was how we always began an EVP session. The goal was to ask simple questions, wait for a few silent seconds, and then play back the recording to determine if it had captured an electronic voice phenomenon.
“Can you help me?” The EMF reader was showing only two lights now. I asked a few more questions, and by the time I was done, all signs of activity had vanished. Still, I was happy that after months of trying, it appeared that I had finally reached something.
After attaching headphones to the recorder, I sat back down on the floor and listened to what I had captured.
My first few questions seemed to go unanswered. The highly sensitive device picked up the sound of my own breathing, but not much else. I had been expecting more, even if it was an undecipherable voice, but on the tape I was already asking my final question.
“Can you help me?”
And then, after a few seconds, a high-pitched whisper responded.
I am trying.
three
Annalise returned to Charleston the next morning. She engulfed me in a firm hug and blinked back tears, then turned away before I could see her cry. I watched her car pull away, waving until it turned the corner and disappeared, and then walked down the hill to Avery’s house. I pulled out my key, unlocked the front door and stepped inside. A low whimper greeted me from the top of the stairs.
“It’s just me, Dante,” I called. When Avery’s little dog didn’t appear right away, I sighed and trudged upstairs to find him. He always hid in the same place: underneath Avery’s empty bed.
It had taken only moments for the airy pink room I had spent so much time in to transform into something completely different. Gone were the delicate silver picture frames that used to dot Avery’s dresser. The closet held several dangling hangers and a single formal dress from Homecoming. Even the bookshelf had been stripped of all but a few titles. It wasn’t her room anymore, I thought. It was the space that used to be her room.
I had helped her pack the week before, pulling clothes out of her dresser and stacking books she thought she’d need.
“This should be enough, right?” Avery had surveyed the half-dozen plastic storage bins that sat on her bedroom floor. They’d reminded me of oversize building blocks. “I mean, I’ll be back over Labor Day weekend if I need anything.”
“I don’t know,” I’d said. “I don’t think they have stores in Ohio. You might be in trouble with only—” I pried open the lid closest to me “—twenty pairs of shoes? Wow.”
“I need those.” Avery swatted at my hand. “Besides, it took a lot of work to get them all into one bin, so don’t mess anything up.”
I wished that I could mess everything up. I wished I could make Avery stay here instead of driving off to Ohio for college. I wished I could keep at least some things in my life the same instead of sitting back and watching one more person slip away.
Avery sat on the floor, labeling her bins with a squeaky black marker. “That’s it,” she said. “Last one.” We were quiet for a moment, both of us staring at the containers. Half her life and most of her room was packed inside them. They would be stuffed into the back of her mom’s car and travel six hundred miles north. Six hundred miles away from me.
“Part of me wishes I wasn’t going,” she said. I looked up, surprised. “I mean, what if I have a crazy roommate? What if the classes are completely over my head? I thought I was ready for this, but now that’s it’s almost here …” Her voice trailed off.
I fought the urge to say that her concerns were totally justified and that she should stay home and take the year off. Instead, I forced a smile. “It’s going to be great,” I said. “You have nothing to worry about. And you won’t be alone.”
The day Avery announced her college choice was also the day that Jared revealed that he had been accepted to the same school. He and Avery would be in different dorms, but they would be able to see each other every day.
“You won’t be alone, either,” Avery reminded me. “And with Shane and Trisha getting married, Noah will be like family.”
“So I’m dating a relative? Nice.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Avery pushed a bin off to the side. “He’ll be around more. You can spend time with him.”
“Yeah, but it’s time spent with everyone else, too. I want more alone time with him.”
I couldn’t remember the last time we’d gone out to dinner, just the two of us. Even the simplest moments, like making sandwiches in the kitchen, turned into a group event. Shane would show up or Dad would wander in or Trisha would require my opinion on wedding favors, and whatever conversation Noah and I had been having stalled.
Dante had trotted into the room. He ignored me and immediately went to Avery and curled up in her lap. “What’s going to happen to him?” I asked.
“He’s going to have a rough adjustment.” Avery scratched behind Dante’s ears. “Unless I can convince my very best friend to stop by once in a while and check on him?”
“He hates me.” And I wasn’t too fond of him. We’d reached a strange understanding: he acted as if I didn’t exist and I pretended not to notice.
“He doesn’t hate you,” Avery said. “And once I leave, he’ll be lonely. Mom will be at work all the time, so it’d be nice if you came by to walk him, you know?”
“I didn’t think Dante took walks,” I said. “I thought he ran around in a hamster wheel.”
“Funny.” She looked at me with wide eyes. “Please? For me?”
“That pleading look doesn’t work on me.” I shook my head. “But you’re my best friend, so yes, I’ll do it.”
She clapped her hands together, startling Dante. “But if he bites me it’s over,” I said. “Got that, Dante? I bite back.”
Now I was in the empty room, crouched on my hands and knees in an effort to coax Dante out from beneath the bed. “Come on,” I urged. “One little walk. I promised Avery, okay? Do it for her.”
The mention of his owner’s name caused Dante’s ears to prick up. Finally, he emerged. I gently scooped him up and took him downstairs, where his powder-blue leash dangled from a hook by the front door.
“It’s nice outside,” I told him. “You’ll see.” He gave me an unconvinced look. I was sure he blamed me for Avery leaving, and now he was resigned to putting up with the brief walks and random treats I offered him. It wasn’t much of a consolation prize.
Outside, it was warm but not too hot yet. I slipped on my sunglasses and began walking up the hill, Dante trotting in front of me. The neighborhood slumbered in typical Sunday-morning mode. I let Dante determine our slow pace, which gave me the opportunity to gaze at the houses