And I hear the tune I’ve been seeking
But I’ve learned to sing my own
I’m looking for a song in the dark
A melody whispering in the wind
and through each quiet night
I’m trying to get back in the fight
It’s my song, but it’s Finn’s, too. It’s evidence that he was here and that he meant something.
I sit back, the last of the music still lingering in the air around me. That quiet, numb feeling in my head that I’d almost forgotten settles in like a blanket. I used to lose hours like this. I’d sit on this bench until my butt was numb and my fingers ached and my brain was so fuzzy I could think of nothing but the music.
But all too quickly the feeling fades and reality slams back into place.
Thirty-Two
I spend the entire walkover to Nora’s house planning out what to say to her, but as I head up the driveway, my half-assed speech disintegrates.
I pause on the welcome mat, a hand lifted to knock. There’s no going back from here. Nora may not believe me. She has no reason to. But I’m out of options.
I take a breath. Steel myself. And knock.
After a few agonizing seconds, the door whines open and Nora steps into the doorway. Her hair is damp from a shower and her lips are bare. She runs a hand through her hair, and it’s so like Finn, a bolt of recognition shoots through my chest.
I don’t really know if he’s still alive—Aisha and Sloane claim they don’t know how much time passes between fading and dying—but a huge part of convincing Nora to help me lies in finding a living Finn at the other end.
Nora clears her throat.
“Hey,” she says, a beat too many passing before she speaks. Weboth stand awkwardly on either side of the door, staring at each other, until Nora steps back. “Come on in.”
Cheeks flushing, I slip past her and into the foyer. Noise filters down the hall from the kitchen; laughter and seventies music. Nora’s mom and stepdad.
Nora says nothing as she heads for the stairs, and I follow her up to her room wordlessly. Only when we’re inside, the door shut behind us and Nora sitting on the end of her bed, does she look at me.
“Any updates on Jasper?” she asks.
I linger at the door, like an intruder.
“No,” I say.
Nora nods. Her gaze trails over my face, as if my reason for showing up here is written somewhere on my skin.
“I need to talk to you.”
She leans back on her palms. “What’s up?”
I gnaw on the inside of my cheek. Every instinct tells me to run.
“This is going to sound”—I let out a mirthless laugh—“like I’m out of my goddamn mind, and I know that, but I don’t know how else to do this, so I’m going to say it.” I exhale. Look at Nora and look away. “I have an idea to find Jasper and the others.” Another glance at Nora. “To find Finn.”
Now I have her attention.
I swallow, my tongue sticky and dry. “I think it’s all connected. Whoever took Finn is the same person who took Jasper and all the others. And I have no clue what’s being done to them, but I think I know where they are.”
As quickly as I got her, I lose her.
