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“Well, yeah. She gave me the task of being your tour guide through her adventures and I’ve been feeling horrible for liking you. But this video, I don’t know, it’s like it’s giving us permission.”

“Why didn’t she send it to us?”

My happiness deflates at the question I’ve been avoiding. “Maybe she will. We haven’t seen all of her adventures yet. Maybe she’s saving it until the end or something.”

“I know why.” Elijah brushes the hair from my eyes. “She doesn’t want her parents to know about me. She was very clear about that from the first video. If we got involved … well, our future would be tricky.”

“But it’s our future,” I say, leaning into his chest. “We get to make the decisions.”

Elijah’s chin rests on top of my head. “I’m going to email you more often, okay? I’ll buy a cheap tablet and I can go to the McDonald’s near my apartment for the free Wi-Fi. We will talk more.”

Now I’m grinning like a goofball, all those awkward feelings be damned. “And then you’ll quit and move here and go to college with me?”

He chuckles. “We’ll see.”

I sit up. “No laughing. I’m serious. I care about you, Elijah, and you have to get out of that job.”

“I do hate that job,” he says softly, his gaze focused on the church. “Give me time. I’ll figure it out.”

Hearing him agree to leave that place makes me want to jump up and dance, but I play it cool. “This is our first real conversation,” I say, poking him in the chest. “One that’s not about Sasha’s adventures or her plans. I like it.”

His hand slides into mine. “You know, I never felt guilty about liking you.”

“Why’s that?” I ask.

He lifts one shoulder. “Sasha wants us to be happy. You are my happiness. She wouldn’t want to take that away from me.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Raquel,

I think I have an iced coffee addiction. They gave me one free the first time I came here to email you because the lady in front of me ordered one and they accidentally made two. Now I’m ordering one every time I come here. It’s a problem, Raquel. Send help. No, send more iced coffee.

I grin as I read Elijah’s email. He wasn’t kidding about talking to me more. He wrote to me every day last week, and yesterday he sent two emails, one that he had typed up the night before when he couldn’t sleep at home and the second from his new favorite McDonald’s.

In his first email, he said he’d spent two hours before his shift creating a resume and sending it out to places that were hiring. I replied that he should focus on getting scholarships and applying to Texas State University. A scholarship would mean he’d get to live in the dorms for free, I pointed out, and he could probably start in January. He promised he would look into it, but he hasn’t mentioned anything else about it since.

My head drops onto Sasha’s pillow. I haven’t changed the pillowcase yet, but that’s allowed in situations like these. I can still smell her shampoo when I roll over in the middle of the night.

It’s nine o’clock and Elijah has just messaged me online, raving about the new caramel iced coffee. We talk for the next hour, and although it’s just in emails, I can hear his voice in my head, see his grin when he makes some snarky joke. It’s starting to feel like I’m up all night chatting with my best friend again.

My TV plays in the corner of my room, the volume muted while I email with Elijah. I send him a copy of Sasha’s secret video and tell him about the little glass elephant. We go back and forth, our talks more casual than they used to be. It almost feels like I’ve known him forever. It’s such a good feeling having someone to talk to again.

My eyes flutter closed, heavy with the weight of the long day behind me. When my phone chimes a new email, I almost don’t check it. I’m half asleep, and his message will be there for me tomorrow, a perfect gift when I wake up. He’s gotten used to me falling asleep on him over the last few days, so …

My phone beeps again, and then a third time. I draw in a deep breath and blink myself awake. TheFutureSasha just sent us a new email. It’s almost like she’s a part of our late-night chat, too. I pop up in bed.

The next two messages are from Elijah, probably excited about her new email.

I swipe across the screen, eager to hear from my best friend again.

An audio file is attached instead of a video. I click play and Sas

ha’s voice rings out through my darkened room.

“Hey favorites, it’s me, in voice form. I’ve been doing these videos for a while now, but I’m not feeling it today. In case no one’s ever told you: cancer makes you feel like shit. So anyway, I have your next adventure ready. Halloween is coming up, and I am inviting you to Peyton Colony’s annual Halloween bash!”

She laughs, though her voice sounds strung out and tired. I should have guessed this one; the Halloween bash is a big deal each year. My phone alerts me that I have yet another message from Elijah, but I ignore it to finish listening to Sasha.

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