THE STARS ARE BEAUTIFUL - WATTYS AWARD NEW ADULT WINNER 2019

Callum | Chapter 12

I SPOTTED EVERLY in the back of the café near the bookcases.

A peculiar thing happened when I looked at her this time. I guess you could say I went blind for ten seconds—but I think the truth was the rest of the world faded when she was in the room. My senses knew that Cecily was sitting in the right-hand corner, texting away on her iPhone, and around the rest of the café were scattered a few people I knew from the hospital, but in the midst of it all, there was only Everly at the bookcase, still holding all of my attention and want in the world.

Her smile was polite and in no way matched the feeling that arose in me when I first saw her. I could have been anyone else to her—just another person looking for a book. The word "deflated" wasn't enough to describe the low that replaced my high. But I understood.

"Hey," I began, turning toward her, away from the books. The most important book was in my hands, and I offered it to her.

"A Bible," she said. "And look at that, it's not on fire."

And for a blink in time, we were caught up like that. Mirrored smiles. Familiar.

"I did a little reading," I told her.

"Have you?"

"Don't believe me?" I asked.

"Proof's in the pudding."

I cleared my throat. "'People swear by someone greater than themselves, and the oath confirms what was said and puts an end to all argument. Because God wanted to make the unchanging nature of his purpose very clear to the heirs of what was promised, He confirmed it with an oath. God did this so that, by two unchangeable things in which it was impossible for God to lie, we who have fled to take hold of the hope set before us may be greatly encouraged. We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain.'"

Everly nodded, but no light lit her eyes. "Well done. You memorized a Bible verse."

"I thought it'd make you happy to know I was reading more than medical books."

Her back flattened against the bookcase, and she sighed. "All self-righteous people take an oath—military men, lawyers, godly men, doctors, etcetera. According to this passage, God took the oath so that you could believe in His word and so that hope would never abandon you when you crept behind your curtain of hurt to hide. I think God was the only one upholding His oath, and the rest of the world's noble oath-takers are full of malarkey."

I feigned offense. "To think I was going to buy you a brownie after all the shit you put me through the other day."

The faintest smile grew in the poke of her cheek. "I don't like food any more than I like false oath-takers." She finally looked at me in a way that only she owned. "What do you think?"

I shrugged. "People in general suck at being good. I think that's why God left that magical 'repent and I'll forgive you' clause."

"In a way," she agreed. "But I also think it's a test. Like when you tell a child to do something, just so they won't."

Everly had a dry crack on her bottom lip that held my attention. It looked as if she had split it open several times. A little dried blood lingered on her lip. "So God's whole plan is reverse psychology? I bet He's bummed about the outcome of that plan."

"Are you here to debate religion with me, Callum?"

"No, but you already knew that." I poked at a well-worn book spine. "If... if I do this, no games. You give it to me straight. I don't have time to play around."

She agreed, "Neither does Truscott."

"How long do you have? What's your expectancy?"

"Age three." She smiled.

"Why are you still alive?"

"Some might say it's all the planning my father has done. The rules. The routine. But I think it's because I haven't done this yet. Like Truscott is just meant to have my heart."

I reminded her, "You promised no 'just'."

"Sorry."

"What happens if Truscott dies before you?"

"Then it wasn't my purpose after all."

"This is crazy." I half-laughed. "I can't believe you talked me into this."

"I didn't do anything. I told you—it was already there."

I glanced around the café. "We can't really be seen talking to each other outside of class without students from the other groups complaining about me cheating." I took a breath. "I'm going to my parents' house in Montauk for Fourth of July break. I want you to come with me. We can talk freely, without anyone looking over our shoulder, or school, to contend with."

Everly shook her head. "My dad will never agree to that. The beach? No nurses? This heat? It's a lost cause."

"My father will be there. And, for the record, you're not the only person who can argue well or use someone's words against them."

Everly took the Bible from me and flipped the cover open. "You have a pen? Write 'to Everly Anne, love Callum.'"

"Why?"

"I'm gonna leave it on my dining table. He snoops in all my things, so if he sees you're giving me presents, particularly a Bible, it'll only add to the mystery of our relationship. He was quite baffled when I stepped off that elevator with you." She smiled proudly.

I wrote what she said but told her, "This was my mother Julep's Bible. I want it back."

Everly stuck the Bible in her backpack. "I promise you'll get it back."

That same stillness blanketed over us, but it was a fork in the road this time, not a loop. I knew my feet needed to go one way and she needed to go another, but the tether was too tight around us. My hope wondered if that meant she wanted to stay just as much as I did, and that was a stupid thing to do, because there was only one reason she needed me, and it had nothing to do with invisible cords and pulls. I looked her over and wondered about all her layers. The ones I could see hanging on her shoulders and around her waist in colorful fabrics. The ones hidden underneath her skin and safely away from the world. A part of me hated the secrets in that moment. I wished I could reach over and magically wash away the charade with one wave of my hand. But most of all, I didn't want her to leave.

"Here's a dumb question," I said, nodding to her hair. "Is that color natural?"

"Not at all," she answered. "I was born blonde." I couldn't help my stare, and she rolled her shoulders in discomfort. "Do you like my new dress? It was a gift from Merriam Webster."

My lips soured. "That's a dictionary."

Everly shrugged. "I thought it was pretty nice."

I played along, even though I didn't understand the game. "Why would this person give you her clothes?"

"She died. I used to talk to her at church. She was how I learned about hope."

"I'm just gonna leap and guess she taught you a lot of the devious wisdom you possess."

She looked up at me. "You see—you do listen. That's another thing I like about you. That and your crease."

"I have a crease?"

"Yeah." She thumbed my glabella. "Right there, when I get under your skin. Sometimes I try to frustrate you on purpose just so I can see it."

Her smile was too much. Her thumb was too much. I inched backward. "I think I should get going. My shift at the hospital starts soon."

"Yeah."

I didn't say anything else, but Everly did. My name from her lips caused me to turn around. "You really are my favorite."

"Don't go giving out awards yet. I haven't done anything."

"But you have," Everly argued. "You've given me hope."