Page 37 of Avelina

Aaron jerked, looking around. This was the first time he was connected to me while Spirit communicated. Since I’d been listening to her, her voice had grown more distinct, sounding like her real voice instead of my own thoughts, as I had earlier thought they were. He looked at me with wide eyes.

“How?” I asked Spirit.

Kneel over him and place your hand on him somewhere where there is bare skin.

I did as instructed, taking his massive paw in mine. I touched the pad of his foot with my thumb. It was cold.

Spirit cursed. He’s already left his body and is trying to cross the death bridge. You’ll have to call to him before he gets too far away.

“What do you mean? Are you saying that I can bring him back from the dead?” I squeaked the question out, panicking. “What in the hell is happening? Can I heal a body back from death?” The idea sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt very unsure of whether I should be doing this—was it wrong for me to make a decision like this?

I looked to Aaron for direction, but he was as confused as I was. “I’ve never heard of such a thing,” he said.

Spirit hesitated. He’s already stepped away from us. Call to him. If he comes, then it will be okay to heal him. If he continues across the bridge, that’s his choice. Just try.

I nodded. “Okay.”

Okay, Spirit thought to me, to call him, think about your favorite memory of him.

I closed my eyes. Just like it had with Aaron, my own memory flashed through me in one piece.

It was my sixteenth birthday, but I couldn’t have a party because I knew nobody would come. It’s not really a party when it’s just you and your parents. My social troubles weighed on me, and I wanted to be alone. In fact, I wanted to go into those woods and never come out.

I never had trouble attracting boys, but friends were a different matter entirely. Back then, I thought there was something wrong with me. No matter how nice, accepting, funny, attractive, or any other good thing I tried to be, I just couldn’t make any close friends. People weren’t outright cruel to me, they just ignored or avoided me, as if they could sense some otherness that they found unconsciously unsettling. I just needed to accept the fact that if I wanted to keep living, I would have to do it alone. I never spoke that thought out loud, but somehow Rogue always knew when I felt depressed.

I stuffed my pack with some food and a blanket and set off to spend my birthday with my best and only friend. Rogue pressed against my legs as we walked. He did that a lot, but that day, it was even more pronounced than usual. We walked for a while until we found a sunny clearing that I knew well.

On the ground lay a flat stone, about the size of a single mattress, with an X carved into it. On top of the stone sat a small gift that looked like it might contain a piece of jewelry. It was wrapped in pink wrapping paper with a pattern of multicolored butterflies and a miniature purple bow. I recognized the paper. The gift was from my mother. I had always been drawn to that spot. I was calmer and happier when I was there. My mom knew that.

“X marks the spot,” I said, smiling down at what I hoped was a tiny treasure.

I picked up the gift, then laid my blanket on top of the X, set my bag down, and sat on the blanket. Rogue sat next to me.

“What do you think’s in it, Roogy-Roo?” I asked. He looked at me, panting a little, his tongue stuck out to one side. His tail thumped the ground rhythmically.

I decided that, before I opened the gift, I would sing “Happy Birthday” to myself. I was glad no one else was around, I told myself, so that I could do this. I sang loudly, getting halfway through the first line when Rogue shocked me with a burst of howling. I stopped in the middle of a word and stared at him. He looked back at me as if to say “What?”

I laughed, then started again, and again he howled, singing with me. When the song was over, he howled one more time as if to say “Cha, cha, cha. Ooh la la. Eat a lotta pizza.” I laughed again, harder this time. He was just so cute. I couldn’t take it. He barked once, which is the most he ever did.

“Fine, I’ll open it,” I said, ripping the paper from the package. Inside the box was a car key.

Aaron squeezed my hand, bringing me back to myself. I looked up at him, realizing that he had seen the memory with me. He didn’t know what a car key was, but he could feel my excitement when I saw it. I smiled at him briefly, then bowed my head.

Okay, now reach into that memory and pull him out.

Aaron made a choking sound. “That is disturbing,” he said.

I shushed him. “What do you mean?” I asked.

Picture him in that memory, then look at him in the memory as if he’s really there. Call to him from the memory. Make him look at you. Then imagine yourself physically reaching into the memory and pulling him out. Quickly, Lina, you have only seconds.

I did as she instructed and felt a vague movement inside my brain. Another reservoir that I hadn’t noticed yet hid in the background like a ghost. I looked hard at Rogue in the memory and saw him look in my mind’s direction. He barked once, and I understood him. He was saying my name.

Rogue, come back!

He barked again, but he sounded farther away this time. Calling to him wasn’t working.

Rogue! I didn’t know what this new reservoir was that I felt stirring, but it pulsed when I called Rogue’s name, almost an echo. I imagined taking a handful of fragment out of that reservoir, shoving my hand into the memory, and throwing it around Rogue like a net.

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