“Good.” I sat up, folded my legs underneath me, and started pulling books from the stack. “I went to the library. Check it out. We have Northern California Camping.” I held it in the air. Then I reached for another one. “Beach Sleeps: A California Camping Guide.”
Luke smiled. “Sleeping is good.”
“And California Coast Camping.”
“Nice. A for alliteration,” he joked.
“And my personal favorite.” I held it up. “Curious George Goes Camping. I’d figured I’d better start with the basics.”
We spent the next hour going through the books, plotting our trip, stopping to kiss, and breaking for s’mores. I wasn’t sure if it made him feel better, but it gave me what I needed: time alone with him and something to look forward to. He already seemed more like himself.
We were cuddled up on the patio sofa in front of the fire pit, when he kissed the top of my head and said, “There’s something I want to show you.” He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out his phone. “But I’m afraid you’re going to be mad.”
“What is it?”
“Promise you won’t be mad.”
The last thing I wanted to do was get in a fight with him. “I won’t be mad.”
“It’s about that night I got hurt.” He said it like he was dreading my reaction, and I sighed. I didn’t want to talk about that again. I was trying to move on to camping and s’mores and good things that had nothing at all to do with almost losing him.
“Look,” he said, shaking his head. “I know what you’re thinking. You want me to stop dwelling on what happened. And trust me, I want that, too. But I can’t. I’d love to turn off my brain and make this whole thing go away, but it’s not that easy.” He got quiet. And then he handed me his phone. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, and he gestured toward it with his chin. “Play it.”
I hit the button, and Luke appeared in the frame. The room around him was dark and his face was in shadow, but I could tell it was him.
“Hi. My name is Luke. To be honest, I’m not really sure why I’m doing this.” He looked off to one side and then back at the camera. “I died eleven days ago.” He said it casually, like it was no big deal. “I was dead for three minutes. Three minutes probably doesn’t seem like a long time, but it is.”
I sat up straight and held the phone in both hands. I never took my eyes off the screen. Luke kept talking, then he suddenly stopped. “Ask me something,” he said.
And then I heard a girl’s voice. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
I’d know that voice anywhere.
In the video, Luke kept talking. The party. Driving to my house. Blacking out behind the wheel. I tried to listen to what he was saying, but I couldn’t get past hearing Hannah’s voice.
Luke talked about the thick, warm water and the room without walls and how he heard Hannah say, “You’re not finished yet,” and suddenly, the water was gone and he was back. He said he didn’t want to be there. He talked about not being afraid of dying. And then the screen went black.
I stared at him. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”
“I didn’t know how to.”
“But you knew how to tell Hannah?”
He was quiet. “I can’t explain it, Emory. I feel like I can talk to her. Maybe it’s because she was the one who found me that night.”
“So, if I’d been the one to find you, would you have told me instead?” I waited for him to answer, but he didn’t have to; his face said it all.
“When did you make this video?”
“Last Tuesday?”
I replayed the details of the day in my mind. We’d spent lunch together. He’d sat in the back of the theater after school and watched my Our Town rehearsal, and then we went back to his house for Calletti Spaghetti and everything felt so totally normal, like it had before. I stuck around for a long time afterward. We talked. We kissed. He seemed a little distracted, but not distant. Addison drove me home. I wanted him to sneak out later, climb our ladder, and hang out with me longer, but I knew he wasn’t allowed to drive, so I didn’t even ask. But he’d snuck out and driven over to my house that night anyway. Not to see me—to see Hannah.
“It felt good to talk about it. I know you want to forget the whole thing and move on, but I need to remember. You have no idea what life has been like in my head. This huge thing happened to me two weeks ago, and I swear, it’s like that Groundhog Day movie, repeating over and over again, all day long. But talking about it helped. I felt better yesterday. Last night, I slept for twelve hours! I haven’t slept like that since I got hurt.”
I wanted to be happy for him. I wanted to be understanding. I wanted to let the whole thing with Hannah go, but I couldn’t. It was impossible to wrap my head around it. He’d talked to her about everything. He hadn’t talked to me about any of it.
“There’s more,” he said.
I didn’t want to hear any more. “What?”
“Her dad wants me to speak at some admissions thing next week.”
I knew all about their Admissions Night. Hannah and her parents had begged me to go freshman year. And sophomore year. They’d trot out their best students and make high school feel like a day at a theme park.
“You don’t even go to school there.”
He had a strange look on his face, as if he’d been wondering the same thing. “I guess he thinks people will connect with my story anyway, you know? I’m a normal guy and this, like, miracle happened to me.”
“Is that what happened?” I rolled my eyes. “He’s using you, Luke.”
I got it. Completely. Luke was perfect. He was charming. Articulate. Handsome. An all-American boy talking openly about his life-altering experience, how he didn’t believe in heaven, and now he did, or at least he thought he might.
“It’s not like that. And so what if he is? He and Hannah saved my life. I have no idea why speaking at his school thing will help, but he seems to think it will. And I kind of owe him one, don’t you think?”
I didn’t think he owed Pastor J a thing, but I couldn’t figure out how to tell Luke that without sounding like I was jealous. And I could tell he needed my support on this.
I picked at some lint on my jeans. “Can I come?”
He nodded. “I was hoping you would.”
That made me feel a bit better. “When is it?”
“Friday.”
“Next Friday?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s opening night of Our Town.”
“Oh. It is?”
Oh? I wanted to punch him.
“But the play is on Saturday night, too, right?” he asked. “I can do both.”
It felt like he’d punched me instead. He’d miss opening night? For this?
“I’ve been working on Our Town for five months. You’ve known Hannah and her family for, like, two seconds.”
I stood up and walked away. I heard him call my name, but I didn’t stop. I marched across the lawn, unzipped the tent, and gathered the map and my books.
I couldn’t believe this was happening. And it wasn’t only about the fact that he’d confided in Hannah. As much as it hurt, I could see why he would. It was the other thing. The thing I couldn’t tell him. The thing Hannah knew and no one else on the planet did.
“Emory!” he yelled. I could hear him struggling to get up.
I grabbed my things and marched back to him. “Did she tell you what our fight was about? What started it? Did she tell you?”
He shook his head. “No. She keeps telling me to ask you.”
I pressed my books against my chest.
He stood, taking slow, cautious steps in my direction. He took the books, set them on the couch, and then gripped my arms with both hands. “Tell me. Please. What was your fight about? Talk to me.”
I wanted to. I honestly did. But telling him would be like lighting the fuse on the first stick in a room full of dynamite. It would be unstoppable, and it wouldn’t end w
ell.
“Why should I talk to you when you couldn’t talk to me?” I asked as I jerked my arms out of his grasp.
That shut him up. I left the books where they were and headed for the sliding glass door. As soon as I was inside the empty house, I reached for my phone and called Tyler.
He picked up after the third ring. “Speak.”
“Can you come get me?”
“Be right there,” he said.
I walked through the living room, past the wall of photos of the Callettis, out the front door, and down the driveway. I rounded the corner and waited on the other side of the tall hedges that lined Luke’s property, out of sight from the house. As I stood in the dark, I thought about Hannah and the ten minutes it took for her to come get me that night. Ten minutes. Those ten short minutes had changed everything.
When Tyler finally pulled up, I got inside and fastened my seat belt. “Everyone’s at the diner,” he said. “Want to go there?”
I nodded.
Tyler and I drove in silence for the next two blocks. Eventually, he broke it.
“What one question would you ask a time traveler about the future?”
I thought about it longer than Tyler normally would have allowed, but there were too many questions swirling around in my mind to pick just one. And every one of them had to do with my future with Luke. I ignored all of them and took it in the direction I knew Tyler intended.
“Are we living on other planets?” I said. I let my head fall to one side.
“Does McDonald’s still make the Shamrock Shake?” Tyler asked.
It felt good to laugh.
Alyssa was waiting for me at my locker at lunch on Monday. “Hey, you.”
“Hi.” I dialed my combination and started unpacking my books.
I hadn’t told Alyssa about Luke. If I told her about the video, she’d want to see it. If I told her about his testimonial, she’d want to listen to him rehearse.
“Did you hear? Aaron canceled SonRise practice today.”
“He did?” It was unlike him, but it wasn’t like we really needed to work on the two songs we were singing at Admissions Night anyway. And if the sanctuary was going to be empty right after school, Luke could come by even earlier.
As I was shutting my locker, my phone chirped.
Dad: Need to see you in my office.
“That’s weird.” I showed Alyssa the screen. “Come with me. I’m sure it will just take a sec.” We changed course, heading for the office instead of the cafeteria.
I opened the glass door. Dad’s assistant was on the phone, but she covered the mouthpiece and said, “Go in. He’s expecting you.”
“What’s up?” I asked as I flung the door open. And then my stomach dropped. Aaron was sitting in one of the chairs on the other side of his desk, facing Dad. They both looked upset.
No.
He knows about Aaron and me.
How can he know about Aaron and me?
“Have a seat,” Dad said. “Alyssa, would you excuse us, please?”
This is bad. This is very, very bad.
Alyssa backed out of his office and closed the door behind her.
Aaron is going to lose his job. Because of me.
“What’s going on?”
They looked at each other. My heart was beating so hard I could feel the steady thump in the back of my throat.
“We need to tell you something,” Dad said. “We were planning to tell you and Luke later today, but now it can’t wait.”
Luke? What did he have to do with it?
“What’s going on?”
I was waiting for my dad to reply, but Aaron jumped in instead. “I’ve been sending all our promotional videos to the local pastors so they could help us promote Admissions Night.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I know. And?”
“A couple of them have been really helpful and especially vocal. Like the pastor at Lakeside.”
Lakeside Christian Church was a few towns away from us and easily three, maybe four times bigger than we were. They televised their Sunday services, streamed sermons on their website, and had a huge following on YouTube. Dad had never told me which churches invested in the school, but I’d always assumed Lakeside was one of them.
Aaron looked at Dad. Dad looked at me.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“I sent him Luke’s video. I told him it wasn’t part of the campaign…that I was only sending it because I thought he would find it powerful and inspiring.”
My stomach dropped. “You didn’t…”
“I told him to,” Dad quickly added.
I looked at my dad, and then back at Aaron, trying to decide which one of them to scream at first. Instead I asked a stupid question. “When?”
“On Saturday,” Aaron said. I could tell by the look on his face that he had more to say. “He posted it online.”
“He what?” I dug my fingernails into the leather chair and stared at him, trying not to scream.
“I’m sorry,” Aaron said. “I’m so sorry.”
I looked at Dad, waiting for him to parrot Aaron’s words, but he didn’t. “Come see this,” he said as he curled his finger toward him. I stood and walked around to his side of the desk. Luke’s video was open on his monitor.
Dad pressed PLAY.
“Hi. My name is Luke…”
Dad pointed to the lower left-hand corner and I saw a heart next to the number 5,438. As I was watching, it climbed to 5,439. 5,440. 5,441.
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. I wanted to yell, and I wanted to storm out of the room, and I wanted to drive straight to Foothill High and find Luke so I could tell him what they had done. But my feet seemed to be rooted to the floor; my mouth no longer seemed capable of forming words.
“I’m sure he thought he was doing Covenant a favor by posting it,” Dad said. “There’s a link to the website and details about Luke speaking at Admissions Night.”
There was something about the way he said it, as if the fact that it was serving a purpose made it somehow okay. I narrowed my eyes on him. “Why hasn’t it been deleted yet?”
Dad folded his arms across his chest. “Because it’s working. More than a hundred people have downloaded applications since yesterday,” he said. “The phone has been ringing off the hook. We’ve been getting RSVPs to Admissions Night all afternoon.”
I looked back and forth at the two of them. “You’re kidding me right now. You shared Luke’s video without his permission and you’re talking about applications?”
The numbers on Dad’s screen climbed higher:
5,459
5,467
5,475
“Luke trusted me. I trusted you, Aaron. And you both…” I couldn’t finish my sentence.
“It was an accident,” Aaron said.
I covered my mouth. “I don’t believe you,” I said. It might have been a mistake initially, but neither one of them had done anything to stop it or fix it. Dad still hadn’t even apologized for his role in the whole thing.
“You have to see something,” Dad said. He closed the video and opened an email.
The message was addressed to Luke. The writer identified herself as a forty-two-year-old woman with stage four bone cancer and three kids, two sons and a daughter, all in high school. She’d seen Luke’s video, and she had to write to thank him, because his words had given her and her whole family hope—not that she would survive, because they knew that was impossible—but that she would be going to a good place. She called his message a gift from God, an answered prayer.
“I’m not saying what we did was okay,” Dad said. “It wasn’t okay. Not at all. But we have messages like this one from people all over the country. They’ve been coming in all day.” Dad tapped his finger against the monitor. “Luke might not think he’s ready to talk and share his story, but look at him, Hannah. Look.” He paused. I listened to Luke’s words. I watched his facial expressions. He looked confident and strong. A lot stronger than he
’d looked either time he’d come to my house. “Luke is helping all these people. He’s healing them. And he’s healing himself at the same time. Even if he doesn’t know it yet.”
“And we’re getting messages from pastors all over the country, too,” Aaron added. “They all want Luke to come speak at their churches and give presentations at their schools.”
I wasn’t following any of this. “What does that have to do with Covenant? Luke’s not even a student here.”
“It doesn’t matter. You know what they say—‘A rising tide lifts all boats.’” Dad stood and walked over to me. “Enrollment is down at schools like Covenant because people don’t think their kids need faith-based schools and youth groups and Sunday services. But that’s exactly what kids need. We need them to believe again. We need them to feel invested in something bigger than themselves. This isn’t a problem that affects our school, it’s a problem that affects our country. People need faith.”
“And Luke is going to fix that?”
“Not alone, but he’s a fantastic start.”
“Pastor J.” Aaron looked up from his phone and cleared his throat. “I just got an email from another news outlet.”
I felt the color drain from my cheeks. “A news outlet?”
Luke was going to flip. He was going to hate me.
I turned to leave. I had no idea where I was going to go, but I had to get out of that office so I could text Luke and tell him what happened. I wasn’t about to let him hear it from them. And I couldn’t stand there a second longer. But Aaron was standing in the doorway, blocking my path.
I glared at him. “Move.”
“I will,” he said, “but first, let me say one thing.”
I crossed my arms.
“Luke’s last name isn’t anywhere,” Aaron said. “I’ve checked. No one has any idea who he is, and we’re not going to tell them. He doesn’t have to speak publicly unless he wants to, okay? This is totally up to him.”
I wasn’t sure my dad agreed with that, but I didn’t turn around to see his expression.
“How could you do this to him?” I asked.
“It wasn’t just for Luke. It was for you, too.” Aaron looked over his shoulder at my dad, and then turned back to me. “I know about Boston.”