My dad. “Oh, shug, we’d thought we’d lost you.”Me too.
Em. “Charley, I’ve missed you so much. When we got the call they found you, it was the best day of my life.”And it was one of the worst days of mine.
They huddled around my bed, pouring out their stories. They thought I’d been kidnapped. My clothes were found in the Target lot; my dad’s Volvo was discovered in downtown Atlanta, stripped and trashed. My purse and wallet were never found. It was clear that my entire family had expected to find me dead—not alive on a French mountainside. No one could figure out how I got there, but they didn’t seem to care. They were too happy that I was alive.
More babbling. More questions. More. More. More. Too much. Too soon.
I closed my eyes, shutting my family out. I couldn’t tell the truth; no one would believe me. So I did the next best thing.
I claimed amnesia.
CHAPTER
66
CHARLEY
DAY 10, LATE AFTERNOON
Walking into my room was surreal. It was like a time capsule from another time, from another girl’s life.
Em’s bed sat neatly made and empty, exactly as I remembered it. UGA had one more day of classes before Thanksgiving break, so Em was away at college, just like on the day I left. My bed was made, too, not as perfectly as Em’s but made nonetheless. On top of my covers, my iPod lay near my pillow, exactly where I’d dropped it over a hundred mornings ago. The book I’d been reading sat beside my bed, bookmark in place, waiting.
Nothing had changed—except me.
I dropped my bag and turned on my computer.
At the Google prompt, I typed “Thad Blake, snowboarder.” There were tons of archived stories, all documenting a promising Canadian snowboarder who went missing days after he was named to the Canadian National Snowboard Team. One had a clear headshot of Thad. Same blond hair, shorter than I remembered, same sapphire eyes, same lazy grin.
Reaching up, I touched Thad’s cheek. It felt flat and lifeless, two-dimensional and cold like I knew it would.
With Thad smiling at me, I finally read the article. Then another. I devoured them all. Regardless of the article, the theory was the same: he was lost on the slopes, on expert terrain. His body was never found.Duh, I thought. One article speculated suicide, noting a devastating breakup with his girlfriend, but his family and friends rejected that idea.
“Thad would never commit suicide,” his mom was quoted as saying. “He loves life more than anyone in this world.”
Maybe inthisworld, I thought, fighting the hollowness inside. But Thad wasn’t in this world, and hadn’t been for a year. He’d been on Nil, where you lived like you were dying. And while Thad had sacrificed his chance to live, it wasn’t suicide.Suicidewas an ugly word. Selfish. And what Thad did was completely selfless. But either way, the result was the same: he’d died. For me.
Thad smiled at me from the screen, cocking his lazy, knowing grin. I love you, Charley from Georgia.
I love you, too. With all that I have, with all that I am. I love you.
I wished that had been my good-bye, but in the end, our bye was anything but good. I stared at Thad’s picture, aching to be with him. Abruptly, his image disappeared, replaced by my stupid screensaver, which was, of all things, a tropical beach scene. I jiggled the mouse, bringing Thad back.
If only it were so easy.
Unwilling to lose his smile, I printed the picture, and when a tear fell, blurring Thad’s face, I printed another one. Then I crawled into bed, holding Thad.
Salt on my cheeks, salt on my lips… a taste of Nil, it was all I had left. Tears soaked my pillow, but I didn’t move. I lay there, drowning in loss and pain, desperately wishing Em were here and deeply relieved she wasn’t.
That was the night I finally understood there were worse things than being alone.
CHAPTER
67
CHARLEY
DAY 19, AFTER DARK
