The Way Back to You by Michelle Andreani

The Way Back to You by Michelle Andreani

Author:Michelle Andreani [Andreani, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2016-03-06T22:00:00+00:00


DETOUR: ARIZONA

Cloudy

“We saw the burros.”

I tear my eyes away from the pages I’m reading and there she is: a tiny girl, maybe five or six, right at my elbow. She squints up at me and I scan the grounds for whoever might belong to her. We’re at a rest area on the way to Montezuma Castle; it’s a smallish plaza with a well-kept brick building, surrounded by concrete, gravel, and prickly looking trees. It’s also the last rest stop for miles, so it’s not like the girl could be on her own. And yet, here she is, alone.

“You what?” I ask her.

Moving a bronze curl off her forehead, she says, “They didn’t let us feed them, though.”

“They?”

“The ghosts.”

As we hold each other’s stare, I carefully readjust the duffel—with Arm inside of it—on my shoulder. “You’ll have to fill in the blanks, kid.”

She lets out this pathetic whine that’s bordering on cute, then jabs her finger at the display beside us. “There.”

The words “On Your Way” are up top, with photographs and descriptions of roadside attractions below it. That much I already know—I saw it ten minutes ago, when I first propped myself against this brick wall.

After taking off from Freddie’s porch this morning, all I wanted was to find my iPod. Even though my hands were shaking too hard to be useful, I kept sifting through the Xterra’s cargo space for it. Two reasons: 1) No chance in hell was I listening to Death Cab all the way to Sedona, the words “love is watching someone die” poking at me. Because no, we weren’t with Ashlyn when she was taken off life support, but I remember what she looked like. Like she was some kind of science experiment, not my best friend. Maybe Kyle’s been able to overwrite his memories, but Ashlyn in that bed is still the image embossed in mine. And now that Kyle’s had some kind of breakthrough, how many times will he let that Sarah song play through? Not happening.

And 2), if I didn’t keep myself busy, focused on that one absurdly minor task, it was very likely I’d short circuit, right on the most solicitor-free street in America. Because I’d spotted it almost immediately. Almond Blossom. Ashlyn’s painting. When my eyes locked on it, the oxygen had left my body. It was a punch in the stomach, or that breathless feeling when there’s unexpected plane turbulence.

In the middle of the search, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

So how did it go with Freddie??

Zoë’s text made me feel monitored. Caught.

I’d nearly fallen apart in front of the Blackwells, and I didn’t need Zoë pressing me for the details.

So I turned my phone to silent and tossed it onto the dashboard to be forgotten.

“See?”

Blinking, I yank my thoughts back to the rest stop, to the young girl chattering away. I follow her pointed finger up to the corner of the sign labeled Oatman, AZ: A Living Ghost Town. Well, that explains the “ghosts” telling her not to do things.



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