Page 72 of Dead Set on You
But Rafael continues to sit there, because he’s definitely been Helene’d.And he doesn’t want to help you,Pre-Coma Evie taunts.
“Wait—there’s more …” she says. Rafael leans in.
“I’m going to leave. Now.” I have one foot out the door.
“She’s younger. Maybe a teenager. She’s gesturing to her heart and clasping her hands. The symbol for sister.”
Rafael shakes his head. “Um. No. Not my sister. She’s—”
“Oh!” Helene exclaims, her eyes popping open. I turn to leave. “Daisies! Do daisies mean something to you?”
Her words have a paralyzing effect. I stumble to a stop, my breath hitching and limbs going numb. Helene’s staring at Rafael and I’m staring at her, feeling like she’s knocked the breath out of me.
“Annie,” I whisper.
“Annie?” Rafael’s gaze shifts to mine.
My throat closes. I nod. “She’s—was—my sister.”
A beat of silence.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Rafael’s voice softens in a way that makes my breath catch. Like he sees a fracture in me that no one—not even Gemma—has fully seen.
Of course he doesn’t know. I don’t talk about her. Annie is sacred.
“Ask her—ask her about Annie,” I say—beg. I know it’s stupid to believe anything Helene says, but if there’s a chance it’s Annie …
Rafael turns to Helene. “What else is she saying?”
“She’s not saying anything, darlin’. She’s smiling and spinning around, showing me her daisy dress.”
“She’shere?” I can’t conceal the hope in my voice. I whip around—desperate to see Annie, more than I want anything else. But there’s no flash of her bright-green eyes. No faded daisy dress. Not even a hint of her summer-and-sunshine scent.
Nothing.
Disappointment punches into my chest.
Helene continues, “It seems like dancing is important to her or to her loved ones. Nothing is ever really clear with these things.”
Tears sting my eyes. Annie and I loved dancing. We found old records and made up our own dances. We watchedMamma Mia!so many times we ruined the DVD. We once even used one of our mother’s boyfriend’s cameras to film our own musical.
I smile at the memory. “Is she okay?” I say, my voice sounding like a frog’s.
Rafael repeats the question for Helene, whose hand stills over her chest. “She’s showing me some pain around her passing now.”
My heart jerks in response. Endless nights and weeks and years. Feeling alone, gutted, and afraid.
“There was pain. Thereis,” Rafael says, answering for me. As if he can see right through me. A part of me wants to know how he’ll use this against me. Another part knows he never would.
“She’s showing me she didn’t feel pain, and she certainly doesn’t want you to feel pain. She’s showing me the symbol for moving on. She wants that for you.” Helene’s smile is kind. I breathe through my mouth to keep the tears from falling. “She’s showing me she’s with you always, and … she’s doing this.” Helene’s hands clasp together and squeeze. “Hold on.”
The air thins, and I’m sucked into a memory.Hold on,Annie whispers, voice barely audible. She’s clammy, pale, and trying to smile. Her green eyes flicker to mine—scared but steady. I grab her hand. She squeezes back, weakly. My other hand scrambles for the phone, needing to call 911 again.
I remember feeling frantic—panicked. She was fading. Her body felt too small, even though she was taller than me. I held on to her with all of me. “Stay with me,” I whispered. “Please.”
That’s how the paramedics found us—her head on my shoulder, my hand locked on her like it could anchor her to this world, to me.
Tears slide down my cheeks, too fast for me to mask them. Rafael is watching, but I detect no smirk. No judgment. “What else?” I ask, sniffing.
