ON A HOT summer morning, Corin showed Amelia her paintings, and nobody died.
This was largely because Amelia restrained Corin from killing her sister when she discovered Elly had left a handprint on the canvas long before the paint dried. Corin had hoped some habits would die with age as Elly turned older, yet even at eighteen, her sister never learned to wipe her hands properly after eating. Sticky fruit, mixed with curiosity about Corin’s latest creation, resulted in a red smear across Amelia’s face in the painting.
“I love it,” the real Amelia said, admiring the glossy paint that streaked golds in her hair, the background of tree foliage and tangled vines.
“It’s wrong,” Corin hissed, fixated on the red smear.
Amelia plucked a strawberry growing from the garden in their backyard. She tore the flesh with her teeth and let the sticky juicedrip down her chin. Her fingers dabbled around her mouth, leaving rose-colored residue.
“Now it’s right.”
Corin stared at the girl, her painting coming to life. The red hue of Amelia’s lips, the strands of golden hair stuck to her cheeks. Her hand cupped Amelia’s face and pulled her closer. Their skin was warm with beads of sweat running down their necks. She kissed every part where the stain was, tasting strawberry with each press of her lips.
Amelia did that so well, dealing with Corin’s grouchiness, reminding her what was important. Elly was eighteen, the age Corin was when they had first met. She remembered the immaturity she carried back then, and was grateful for the freedom she had now, one that could kiss a beautiful girl without restraint.
• • •
ON A CHILLY autumn afternoon, Corin held Amelia’s hand along a leaf-covered path, and nobody died.
Corin could tell death was coming soon, for age and time had weathered them both like crumpled plants. They mirrored the dying trees around them with hunched backs and sagging skin. Countless seasons filled with bitter winters and sweltering summers, and they had spent every moment growing old together.
Yes, they were old, but they still enjoyed hearing leaves crunch beneath their boots, even if they had to hold on to each other’s arms for balance. The frigid chill hurt Corin’s bones a little, but the fresh air was always welcome. They found a bench beneath a maple tree to rest their feet. Bluebirds chirped among the branches. Corin watched leaves change from orange to crumbling brown.She thought about how sometimes things died and no one could do anything about it but let it happen, grateful that the leaves had once been a remarkable color anyway.
The two of them sat in silence, waiting for the end.
Amelia turned to Corin, her face crumpled in fear. She whispered, “What if I’m not strong enough?”
Corin turned to stare at the sea glass in Amelia’s eyes, the snow in her white hair, the golden sun in her freckles. She remembered the years they shared that never existed. Memories of stars and oceans and specks of time where their paths never crossed. A love that had time to bloom even though it could never exist one hundred years apart. The same questions echoed in their minds.
What if I’m not strong enough?
What if it doesn’t get better?
What if I can’t survive this?
What if—
Corin blinked.Ah,she thought.This is a dream.
Even dreams must end, and she could feel this one fading. She looked down and saw blood spread from her abdomen. Trees disappeared, and their surroundings turned to white. Amelia could barely hold on to Corin as she was dying. The amulet glowed brighter still, like a light at the end of the tunnel.
With the last of her strength, Corin pulled Amelia closer, tasting salt and grief in their kiss. Between their lips, she whispered her answer.
CHAPTER 43
THE END
“IWANT TO SEE what happens in a world where you don’t give up.”
EPILOGUE
CORIN OPENED HER eyes to the sound of someone calling her name.
She stared at a thatched roof filled with sunbeams and dust, her limbs twisted in sweat-damped sheets. A gust of air flooded her lungs from an open window next to the bed. Something tickled her cheek. She brushed the sensation away, her fingers wet.
A voice rang in her ear, the sound irritating and comfortable at the same time in its familiarity. “Corin, wake up!”
A round face emerged in her vision. Large brown eyes stared back at her. Elly’s black hair grew past her shoulders, a few strands falling on Corin’s forehead. Her cheeks were full, her breath warm. The girl furrowed her eyebrows.
