Page 104 of Summer's Edge

I open my mouth but swallow a cloud of smoke and choke for a moment, gasping for breath. “Nothing is wrong with me, Chase,” I gasp. “You are a toxic friend. All of you are toxic friends. I am cleansing my life of toxic friends. Like I should have years and years ago.” I double over, coughing, as he continues to climb. I shouldn’t let him. But I’m angry. He shouldn’t be allowed to say these things to me.

I can hardly make out his words at first through the sound of the fire, but I lean over the side of the balcony, straining. He’s coming closer. “Not like this.”

I struggle to see him through the smoke. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe. Chase is an athlete, but I don’t see how he can climb through this. I can barely stand. My head is beginning to swirl. The smoke is poisoning my senses, pouring in through my eyes, ears, and nose. And then his hands sweep out toward me, grasping only air. Again, embracing nothingness. Once more, so close, and I can’t breathe, and then his fingertips brush against the balcony, and my heart stops. Chase, who I loved. Chase, who I adored. Who I spent summer after summer, year after year, reaching and grasping and longing for, to have him slip through my fingers. I grab his hands, lace my fingers through his, feel the electricity surge through them, the warmth, theneed.He needs me. In the most fundamental sense. But I don’t need him. Not anymore. I let go, gently, lovingly, pushing him firmly away, feeling his weight shift backand over, into the thick, poisonous air, feeling the crunch of his bones as sharply as I hear it.

There’s something I should tell you, before it’s too late.

“I really do love you,” I whisper. “Every last, damned one of you.”

And you are all damned.

Every last one of you.

I kick the bookcase over, just to be sure. Goodbye, love. Goodbye.

I ignite the lighter, and it burns my fingers. I snap it shut. Chase is quiet now. Chelsea is kicking the door. The smoke is so thick, I couldn’t find my way back downstairs if I wanted to. But I know what would be waiting for me. Rivers of fire. Blood red, electric. The heat is incredible. It scorches and comforts me at once. It will burn out all the parts in me that don’t belong anymore. The soft parts, the decay. The sadness and longing. It burns. The longing burns. It’s almost gone. I know now where my brother is, and how it happened. I’m finally done with Chase. I’ll never be second in Kennedy’s eyes, or third in Chelsea’s. I’m ready to let go. I grasp the railing dizzily and nudge the can of gasoline over the edge with my foot.

This is how I’ll say goodbye:

Not with words.

Not with a kiss.

But with a promise.

You will remember me forever.

I light the lighter one more time and drop it.

Flames leap up and I step back, humbled by their strength. The desire to not die hits me so hard it takes my breath away,and I run to the one place I haven’t been able to secure, the balcony in Kennedy’s room. I stagger to the table that’s blocking Kennedy’s room and push it aside to find Chelsea tearing the room apart, searching for a tool to open the attic.

She turns to me frantically, weak and coughing. “Help me.”

I smile. “The only way out is down.” It’s not a friendly drop, but it’s my only shot. I slide my legs over the railing and drop down, landing safely, then look up at the house.

Goodbye, friends.

I’ll leave you with this thought.

Before you ask about second chances,

Remember the Summer of Swallows.

Remember.

Remember.

Because it’s never, ever, ever going away.

Not after what you did.

So if you think this is over?

Think again.

And again.

And again.

Your very best friend,

Emily Joiner

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