I quickly dressed and then followed the scent of bacon to the kitchen, where my dad was bent over the stove, a spatula in hand. His freshly combed hair looked grayer than usual in the morning light that streamed through the window. His face was still too hollow in the cheeks, as it had been for a few months now.

The guilt weighed heavy in my stomach for a moment.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked.

“Morning, sunshine.” He infused his voice with exuberance. “No occasion. Just thought it’s been a while since we’ve had a proper breakfast. You still love bacon, right?”

He was so … chipper. “Yes,” I said warily.

“Excellent!” He grabbed a plate off the granite countertop and filled it with scrambled eggs and about half a pig’s worth of bacon. “There’s some juice on the table.”

“Okay. Um … thanks.”

I sat next to Tommy, my ten-year-old brother, who was making his way through a pile of eggs. He held up his fork and gave me a goofy grin. “Breakfast is awesome!”

Okay, maybe it had been longer than I’d thought since we’d done this.

“Yeah, it is.”

I looked down at my own plate of protein and resisted the urge to vomit. Maybe eating bacon wasn’t like riding a bike. My stomach was protesting just looking at it.

My dad clicked off the stove and brought his own plate over to the table.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” he said.

“It’s awesome!” Tommy said.

I suppressed a laugh. It was as if we’d never eaten before.

“You were up late last night,” my dad said. He probably noticed the light on in my room. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“I was reading.” More like studying. Every myth I could get my hands on.

My dad hoisted his briefcase onto the table. “That reminds me. I have something for you.”

I narrowed my eyes at the bacon suspiciously, thinking that it suddenly looked like a bribe. “What is it?”

“Hold on.” He fished around deep inside the leather case. “Ah. Here it is.” He pulled out a large, worn book. “Sally at the office had it.”

He handed it to me. The cover read D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths. I couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d handed me a unicorn. I thumbed through the first few pages. They told the story of Gaia the Earth, who fell in love with the Sky. Accompanying the story was a series of beautiful artwork. “Okay, Dad. What’s going on?”

He diverted his eyes. “Nothing. Can’t a dad give his daughter gifts?”

“Yes. But not when that gift is a book about mythology and you’ve been trying to cure your daughter of her ‘unhealthy obsession’”—I curled my fingers into air quotes—“with mythology.” He didn’t know that my obsession was really a desperate search to find a story that would hold the key to rescuing Jack. That there really was an Underworld, once ruled by Persephone. That myths were real. To him, it just looked like another red flag for a therapist to investigate.

“I never used the word unhealthy.”

I held up the book so that the cover was facing him. “Dad. What’s going on?” I demanded.

His smile faded. “I was hoping that if I gave you this, you might do something for me.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “What?”

He looked sheepish. “Maybe you could spend today reading instead of … doing other things.”

And there it was. The real reason for the bacon. And the book.

I put the book on the table and slid it toward him. “I’m going to graduation.”

Any remnants of his earlier levity disappeared, and his expression shifted to a pained look. “Why? It’s not your graduation. Why are you putting yourself through this? Dr. Hill is very concerned.”

“I don’t care what Dr. Hill thinks,” I snapped. My dad winced. I hated that I couldn’t talk to him without upsetting him anymore. I lowered my voice. “I’m going because the graduation ceremony is where he would be.”

“But Jack’s not here.”

I flinched at his name. “I know—”

“And you going to graduation won’t bring him back.”

“I know that!” I said, more harshly than I’d intended.

Silence fell upon us. The only sound came from Tommy’s fork scraping across his plate. He was used to this discussion.

“I’d feel better about it all if you’d at least talk about J … him to Dr. Hill. You know it would all be confidential.”

Confidentiality wasn’t what I was worried about. I was more worried about the fragile dam I’d constructed around my heart over the past two months. It had taken me this long just to find a way to function. To stand without falling. To breathe in and out without concentrating. To talk without sobbing. If I started to let those feelings out, I’d never stop; the broken dam would destroy everything around me, and I’d be back to where I was.

Dr. Hill couldn’t help me face reality, because my reality was so unreal to humans. My dad always said honesty is the best policy; but when I imagined telling Dr. Hill the truth, it was almost comical.

“So, Nikki, what’s really on your mind?” she’d say.

You see, Dr. Hill, there’s this Everliving named Cole—an immortal—who feeds on the emotions of humans. He Fed on me in the Underworld for a hundred years; and when I survived the Feed without growing old, he became convinced I was destined to be the next queen. Then I Returned to the Surface, where I had six months to be with my family and make amends with my ex-boyfriend, Jack, before the Tunnels of the Everneath came for me.

And, oh yeah, Dr. Hill, Jack and I tried to kill Cole by smashing his guitar; but that didn’t work, so Jack jumped into the Tunnels, taking my place in hell, and now he’s being drained of everything—like a battery—until he wastes away and dies.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Hill. What was the question?”

I’d be taken away by the men in white coats. But the truth was, I didn’t belong here, in this kitchen, in my bed, in my car. Breathing air. Free. I didn’t belong in this life on the Surface. The life that should’ve been his.

I was going to the ceremony, and no amount of mythology books could convince me otherwise. Jack had taken my place in hell. The least I could do was take his place on Earth.

My eyes started to sting, and I tried to blink back the tears. I pushed the book toward my dad. “I’m going.”

He watched me carefully, then put his arms around me. My dad isn’t usually a hugger, and it didn’t last long; but it told me what my face must’ve looked like.

“I know,” he said, running his hand through his hair, messing up the perfect comb lines. “Will you be okay?”

I half smiled. Jack was gone. I didn’t think I’d ever be okay again.

“I’ll be fine.”

TWO

NOW

The Surface. Graduation day.

As I drove to the school, clouds from an early-summer storm rolled over the mountains, sweeping everything away, leaving only clear blue sky in their wake. I wished the wind could do the same thing to my soul: sweep away all of the horrible things I’d done until there was a clean soul left, with no memories, no guilt.

Most of the horrible things, though, were just the fallout from one stupid decision: going with Cole to the Feed. He had taken me to the Everneath and fed on my emotions for a hundred years. I relived that decision a thousand times a day, adjusting the factors that led to it to see if I could mentally change the outcome. What if my mom hadn’t been killed by a drunk driver the year before? Her death changed me. What if the driver of the car hadn’t been acquitted? I didn’t know I had it in me to be so angry after the verdict. What if I’d stayed home instead of driving up to Jack’s football camp? What if I hadn’t seen Lacey Greene leaving his dorm room, in shorts that were barely there?

What if I had stayed and let Jack explain instead of peeling out of the parking lot and going straight to Cole?

I shook my head. That was the decision I was most ashamed of. Jack had never done anything to jeopardize my complete trust in him. It had been my own stupid insecurities that let doubt of his character in. If I had stayed …

If I had just stayed.

But I hadn’t. I’d gone straight to Cole’s condo. I’d begged him to take my pain away, and he did. Cole drained me of my emotions. I was his Forfeit. For a hundred years, he fed off my energy, leaving me a shell of my former self.

Brake lights ahead of me snapped me back to the present, and I made the final turn toward the school. A half hour before the start of the ceremony, the parking lot was already nearly full, but I found a place at the end of the farthest row, turned off the engine, and sat quietly for a moment.

Despite what I’d said to my dad, I still wasn’t sure about my decision to be here. There would be more than a few people in the audience who blamed me for Jack’s disappearance, even though nobody knew the truth about what had happened that night. It was an undisputed fact that I was the last one who had seen Park City’s football hero. I couldn’t go anywhere in this town without feeling the unspoken scorn directed at me. Thankfully, because I’d recovered all of my own emotions, I could no longer taste other people’s like I could when I’d first Returned to the Surface. I imagined that the scorn would’ve tasted bitter and would’ve stung as it traveled down my throat.

But I deserved it, because it was true. I had been the last one to see Jack the night the Tunnels came for me, and he had pushed me out of the way and taken my place. I had been the last one to touch his hand as the mark on my arm—the black Shade inside of me that led the Tunnels directly to me—had jumped from my skin to Jack’s.

I had been the last one to scream his name. I had been the last one to stop crying over Jack.

The truth is, I never stopped.

I had no control over the tears. They fell even now as I sat in my car, wiping at them futilely. They fell even though I was sure there couldn’t be any moisture left inside of me. They stained my pillow every night and greeted me in the mirror every morning.

When I’d first Returned from the Feed, I’d been drained so dry that I wondered if I would ever be able to feel anything again.

Now it felt as if I were made up of shards of glass and tears, and nothing else.

I grabbed two tissues from the box I kept in my car, emptying it out. Balling up one in each hand, I shoved the tissues against my eyes. Lately, I’d started to attack my tears as I would any other bleeding wound in my body. Apply pressure until the bleeding stops.

Despite the tears, I knew I would eventually get out of the car. I would be at the ceremony, just like I’d watched spring football tryouts from the bleachers and the Park City soccer games from the parking lot. I couldn’t help going to the places where Jack should’ve been.

But maybe my dad was right. What difference did it make if I was here or not? It wasn’t as if Jack would know. I felt like a hypocrite. I leaned my head on the steering wheel and closed my eyes. Maybe I should just drive away.

A knock at my window made me jump. I raised my head to find Will’s face staring back.

I smiled.

I’d seen Jack’s older brother a few times since the night we’d tried to kill Cole. Will’s eyes were clear. If there was one good thing that came out of this whole mess, it was that Will had stopped drinking the moment the Tunnels took Jack. Maybe, like me, he needed to feel the pain—not numb it—to be closer to his brother.

I rolled down the window.

“Hey, Becks,” he said with a sympathetic smile. He leaned his elbows on the car door. “I thought I’d find you here. You weren’t having second thoughts, were you?”

I shook my head. It was hard when Will was so nice to me, because I felt guiltiest around him. Two months ago he had watched the Tunnels of the Everneath come for me, and leave with his brother. How could he look at me without thinking that they’d taken the wrong person?

“I was just psyching myself up,” I said.

He opened the door. “C’mon. We’ll sit together.” He tilted his head to the side, just enough to let a flash of sunlight blind me; and in that flash, with his profile against the light, Will looked like Jack. So much so that I held my breath and had to stop myself from reaching up to touch his face.

The moment passed.

We walked side by side, silent through the first few rows of cars, our feet crunching against the gravel. The sun shone especially bright and strong. As I stepped onto the sidewalk that led to the football field, Will stretched out his arm in front of me and pulled me back.

“What is it?” I asked. I followed his gaze to see Mrs. Caputo—Jack and Will’s mom—a few yards ahead of us. “Oh.”

Will shrugged and gave me a guilty look. “Sorry, Becks.”

“No, it’s fine.” I forced a smile. “Of course she blames me.”