Page 130 of Find My Way Down to You

I know this place, intimately: Santa Barbara Cottage Hospital.

My knees turn to jelly. Why did Poppy send me here?

When I reach for a door to leave, my hand passes right through it. Shocked, I yank my arm back. My whole body is translucent. Swathed in a moonlight blue glow. Panic rockets into my throat.

Am I…dead?

Voices echo down the hall where two boys stand. One is in all-black, his skin a light gold, hair slicked back except for a single lock curling against his forehead.

Cary.

The other boy is shorter. Built like a surfer. His wavy brown hair stops just past his chin. He’s in a T-shirt and board shorts, slides with socks. There’s a gauzy white shimmer to his sun-bronzed skin.

“London,” I half sob.

He doesn’t hear me. They don’t see me either as they approach. Cary holds London’s hand the same way he held Yuri’s and Hasan’s and Bernice’s. With care and gentleness.

“Wait, wait,” London pleads.

“We cannot. It is time.” Cary gives him a soft smile. “This is not your end.”

I can’t breathe. London’s so close, a few feet away. My heartcracks just like his voice when he says, “Please.Just this one thing.”

Cary pauses. His delicate features begin to harden.

“I do not make bargains.”

“It’s not, I promise.” London drags anxious fingers through his hair. The dried trail of blood at his temple is gone. “I know I can’t stay. But you can. I just…I need you to watch over him. The other boy who was in the accident with me. His name’s August. He’s—”

My breath hitches in rhythm with London’s.

“That is not my role,” Cary says coolly.

“Please,” London repeats. “Something awful happened tonight.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t get to tell him so many things. Things that would’ve changed a lot. For him and me.”

I take a wobbly step forward, then another. My hand stretches toward him. “What did you want to tell me?” I say, my voice thin.

He doesn’t answer me. Those aloe green eyes stay fixed on Cary.

“I cannot speak to him for you,” Cary warns.

“You don’t have to.” London’s nose wrinkles like it does when he’s stressed or overwhelmed. “Just check on him.”

I’m right here. Next to them. My fingers slip through London’s shoulder like smoke. I can’t touch him, hold him, comfort him.

Only watch helplessly as everything happens in front of me.

A second slips by. Cary’s furrowed brow relaxes. Softly, he says, “I will.”

“You will?” London looks ready to cry.

I am. Slick, hot tears that evaporate a second after kissing my cheeks.

Cary nods once. “Now, we must go.”

They pass through me. I try to follow, but my feet are stuck to the floor. Sinkingthroughit. Before I can yell London’s name, beg Cary to bring him back, everything melts away. The hospital fades back to the room in Aides.

I slide down the doors. Pull my knees to my chest. “He was there,” I whimper. “London. I saw him.”