All In My Head (First Tracks Book 1) Read online

  I fell down on my knees with all the papers. They slipped into an array around me, and I couldn’t stop myself from looking around at them, even as I wiped the tears off my face. There were different drawings of my mom and I together, Marcus and I together, and more of just me. One was nude. Leave it to Marcus.

  Marcus had been busy, when I was asleep? When could he have done these? Silent sobs shook me. I wanted so badly to look but couldn’t. I couldn’t even breathe for a minute, and then I fell into bed and curled up, pulling a pillow over my head.

  ***

  “Ave?”

  It sounded like Jazz had been knocking a while. I called out sounding like a dying frog, but she heard and came in. It was dark and, thankfully, she left the light off, so just the hallway light shone in. Had I left those drawings all over the place? I watched her shape sit in my computer chair.

  “The plot sickens.”

  I pulled the pillow under my head to listen. “Hmm?”

  “Kris is ballistic, and not just because of what happened. I guess she asked Kyle if they could get a place together and he said no.”

  “What? Why in hell would she want to live with him? Doesn’t she get it?”

  “She’s ignored his bad traits from the beginning.” Jazz paused, but it sounded like she was on the verge of saying more. “You know, I should have told you this sooner…”

  “What?” I sat up in bed.

  “We knew something was going on when you and Kyle broke up. You were upset and wouldn’t say anything to her or me. I saw you come home to the room one night, and… I told her something was really wrong. I should have done something. I’ve regretted that ever since, especially since he’s around with her all the time.”

  Now I was doubly thankful for the darkness. “Oh.” I wasn’t sure what more to say on that subject, so I moved on. “She’s mad at me about all of this, and not him?”

  “I know, it doesn’t make sense. I’m guessing she’s really mad at him but doesn’t want to lose him. Listen, do you want to go get dinner?” She stood up. “You need to eat. And get out of here. At least, it helps me after a breakup to keep moving.”

  A breakup? As well meaning as Jazz was, I couldn’t classify losing Marcus as merely a breakup. Part of me was missing.

  Maybe she meant Nash.

  “No thanks. I just need to veg out tonight,” I said. She didn’t want to leave me alone but I wouldn’t budge. Then, just as she stepped out of my door, I yelled, “Wait! They’re not coming back here soon, are they?”

  “Don’t think so. Kris and Kyle are fighting, but they were at the beach house still.”

  ***

  I waited until three a.m. to get up. Everything felt oddly loud without Marcus, like a vast silence surrounded me, and every tiny noise made me jump.

  Feeling like I needed to do something—anything—about Kristina, I texted her.

  Kyle tried to kiss me. I pushed him away. End of story. I’m sorry about all of it.

  It worried me: if she could overlook this, what else would she let him get away with?

  I paced three steps back and forth, holding my phone, but Kris didn’t reply. It was the middle of the night, after all.

  There’s a quietness and stillness at this time of night that always made me look at my life. It’s why I don’t like being up now. I didn’t want to float along in life’s current anymore. I’d made my own decisions, choosing a college and starting out on my own, but it didn’t feel like I’d made the life I wanted. The road ahead of me was dark and hidden, and I wasn’t ready to think about it yet.

  I lit a candle and pulled out Marcus’s guitar. Sitting on the bed, I tried strumming, hoping his song would flow through my fingers. It didn’t sound anything like it. I remembered some chords and could make it sound somewhat music-like, but it wasn’t Marcus playing. Strange that I had retained some of his talent, but this was just a weak reflection of what he could do.

  I hope the boldness I’d felt with him with me wasn’t fading away too.

  My heart aching, I slid the guitar under the bed and picked up his drawings again, flipping between the pictures of us. Turned out, Marcus was too good to be true—hot and smart, funny and charming, athletic and thoughtful. He was also all male. He didn’t apologize for who he was. But I got to see so many sides of him, how he could be a stupid, horny guy and then a caring person, all in the same hour. Now these drawings were the only things I had left of him.

  “Marcus? Where are you?”

  I curled up in bed, and that was pretty much where I stayed for the rest of spring break. Jazz ran interference, calling Kris and talking to me. Some things I discussed with Jazz, but other things I couldn’t tell her just yet. I knew, deep down, I would leave. I wanted to run as far and as fast as I could from my life. It didn’t make sense. I had my friends and school before Marcus showed up. Why couldn’t I just go back to that? But I needed newness. I wanted the life I had pictured Marcus living: traveling, exploring, learning. Living.

  ***

  Kris never texted back. I heard Kristina come home that Sunday. Other cars had stopped, but I was sure I heard Kyle’s, and then just a hint of Kristina’s voice. A hushed conversation ensured between Jazz and Kristina, and I think Dawn too.

  Would Jazz tell them about Marcus? I mostly trusted her not to, except that I might tell if I were in her shoes. Wouldn’t I? If I had a friend in serious trouble—like hearing voices—I’d get help. I was asking a lot of her not to tell anyone, and it made me sick.

  Last year, we were all such a tight knit group, besties forever, girls rule! Kris, Dawn, Jazz—they were my world.

  In high school, it was all about hiding under the radar. Not getting noticed. Keeping a low profile in whatever house I lived in. Everyone acted like they wanted to help me, the poor girl without any parents, but really they were either morbidly curious or looking for something for themselves. I left all that behind to go to college. It was like winning the lottery and getting to start a new life. I arrived in Ashland a different person, ready to feel like I was a part of something.

  Now…now it was all gone. I should care. I should run out to talk to Kris and tell her Kyle was coming onto me. I should tell her how he treated me back when we were dating. Deep down, we were still best friends, and I owed it to her. She needed me, even if she didn’t want to talk to me. She needed to know what kind of person Kyle was.

  I climbed out of bed, feeling like I’d been mummified, and went to my door. As I opened it, I caught sight of Kris walking quickly out of her room and toward the front door, a stuffed bag slung over her shoulder, her curly hair fluffed instead of forming tiny ringlets. She was more stressed than I’d realized.

  “Kris!” I walked down the hall, expecting her to wait. She stepped outside and slammed the front door.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I hid from everyone for the next week, skipped all of my classes and locked myself in my room if anyone else was home. When I didn’t think anyone would notice, I went out to run, usually in the pouring rain. I tried everything that could possible bring Marcus back: running, a twenty-five mile long bike ride, drinking a beer… I stopped short of picking up a guy. I thought about it. I wanted to try it. It seemed like that would make him mad enough that he’d jump back in my head and do something about it. But I just couldn’t do it.

  There was one other thing I hadn’t tried. It was the next thing on the list. The next Monday morning, Jazz tried to talk me into going to class, but I told her I just couldn’t muster up the energy.

  “Ave, you can’t just give up,” Jazz said, looking sick with worry as she stood halfway in my doorway. “You can’t live in bed.”

  “I actually have some things I want to do instead.” I sat up like I had a plan. Actually, I did. Just not one I could tell her about.

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  Jazz sighed. “Ave, it hurts now, but your life is more than just some guy. Yeah, I know, not just some guy, but still,
a guy.”

  I swung my feet to the floor. “You’re right… I just needed some time to say goodbye.”

  “Okay.” She held my gaze for a second before leaving. I felt horrible for bringing her down with me, and I even knew how pathetic it looked to be this torn up over a relationship. By all accounts, it’d been a relationship with an imaginary man.

  Still.

  I’d been lying there thinking in the middle of the night again, and felt like Marcus was there, telling me to get up. I’d whispered his name, expecting him to answer…and when he didn’t, I wasn’t sure if I’d just been imagining things or realizing what he’d tell me if he saw me like this. Even if it wasn’t him prodding me to get up, he would do that. I had to do something. Wasn’t I a problem solver? I used to think I could figure my way through anything, and that was when life was just about surviving and getting through. That’s not what I wanted to focus on anymore.

  The other thing was, I couldn’t move on until I knew Marcus was okay. What if he hadn’t gotten back to his life? What if he was stuck in some kind of in between or something? There had to be a different ending than just losing him in an instant.

  After Jazz left, I got in my car, expecting to hear Marcus. It was our special place where I’d felt free to talk to him out loud. Nothing happened. I was starting to wonder if I had made the entire thing up. Maybe it had really messed me up when I lost my parents. The stress could have been building all this time, and then the concussion broke everything loose. It wasn’t a totally illogical theory, especially when compared to what I actually believed.

  I drove down the freeway and out to Mount Ashland, waiting for Marcus to pop up and tell me I was crazy for even thinking about this. It’d rained most of spring break, which was snow in the upper passes. The ski resort had opened again. It was cloudy and misty now, which suited my mood just fine.

  At the resort, I rented equipment and headed out, not noticing much except that other people were laughing and talking together. Everything there would have made me think of Marcus if I let it, but I kept on track. I was on a mission. I wanted to replicate the day of my accident. Nothing else had worked; it was the only other thing I could think of. I went at it with a vengeance, flying down too fast and a taking a jump. It wasn’t that big, but as soon as I lifted off I knew Marcus wasn’t here to help me. I landed hard on my side. A few times I sorta landed a simple jump, hitting the snow wrong but not completely stopping. While I went up and down the hill, the sun came out and went away again, bringing snow. I needed to try something bigger.

  I saw it coming. It was the same jump I’d crashed on during that trip. I had way more speed this time going into it. I soared even higher, way too high to ever land this.

  I wiped out big time, rolling and sliding to a stop. But I didn’t hit my head. How had I even managed that the first time? I uncurled and laid out flat, breathing hard up at the dark gray sky. My breath made little clouds in the tiny snowflakes fluttering down. This wasn’t working any better than playing the guitar, so I was hot, sweaty and frustrated. And still alone.

  “Hey, you okay?” a voice called out, coming closer.

  I rolled my head to watch a man skid to a stop close by, but not close enough to spray snow on me. He eased over to me, crouching down. His snow glasses covered the top half of his face. His nose dominated the other half: one of those Roman noses with a big bump. “Hello?”

  “I’m okay.” I didn’t move though.

  “You sure? That was one noice wipe out.” He pulled up his visor and scanned up and down my body. “Nothing bent funny?”

  It hadn’t been that bad.

  “I’m fine. I just needed to catch my breath.” I blinked a snowflake out of my lashes.

  “You’re getting it.”

  “Huh?” It sure didn’t look like it.

  “I’ve been watching you. Gotta say, you’re dedicated. But you’re getting it.”

  He’d been watching me? For how long? I wanted to glance around but couldn’t while flat on my back. He hopped out of his board and bent over me, holding out a hand. He had a friendly, open look about him. I took his hand and let me haul me up.

  “Wow, you’re a light little thing.”

  I laughed, imagining Marcus popping in my head to say the guy was flirting. My laugh hurt.

  “I’m Cricket.”

  “Cricket? I’m Avery…and apparently needing a cooler name.”

  He laughed again, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and nodded back up the hill. “I’ll walk you up. Make sure you’re okay.”

  “Thanks.” I felt a little stiff as I began to walk, probably from biffing it all day long. We walked ten paces while I went over everything I did—why didn’t it work?

  “I have a question for you,” I asked.

  “Shoot.”

  We lumbered a few more steps up the mountain. “Do you happen to know a snowboarder named Marcus?”

  “The Marcus?” He shook his head in admiration. “Dude. I wish. You do mean Marcus Fields, right? Did you know him?”

  Did you know him.

  I stopped so abruptly I fell forward and caught myself with one hand. Cricket stopped, his face pinched into a squint to look at me. “Gold medal in Sochi. Top competitor. You didn’t mean that Marcus?”

  Gold medal. Traveling the world. Competing. Marcus had been right. He was driven.

  “Yeah, actually. That Marcus. You do know him?”

  “Well, know of him.” He looked down. “Man, it’s sad. Such a loss. Real shitty after what he did for our sport.” Cricket looked up at my face. “Oh… Sure you’re okay?”

  Such a loss.

  The lodge was right ahead of us.

  “Yes, I’m good. Thanks so much for your help!” I tried jogging up the snow, which had to look great from behind, and gunned it back to the rentals to return my gear.

  Maybe Marcus had been a ghost? Didn’t that mean I could get him back? Did I want to do that to him, if I could?

  Marcus Fields. I branded his name into my brain, chanting it until I got back to the car. I just two bars of service. Hopefully enough to search online. Marcus Fields. It took my trembling hand forever to tap it out.

  “Marcus Fields Took a Downturn Tuesday Evening” read the headline. “Field’s family is unsure of survival.”

  Tuesday? That was almost a week ago. I slumped back in the seat, confused. So he had been alive somewhere else while living in my head. What did this mean?

  I sat staring out the window at steel colored clouds for a good hour but couldn’t make myself start the car or even move. What if he was gone for good?

  Hey, Babe? Who’s gone?

  I jumped. Shook my head. I’d been waiting and listening so hard that I couldn’t tell if that had been real. I waited several long, quiet seconds before whispering, “Marcus?”

  Yeah? It feels like you’ve been sitting here forever. What are you moping around for?

  “You’re really here?”

  What’s the matter? Did Nash dump you?

  “What the hell! You’re pulling an attitude at me? You up and left me and you’re throwing a hissy fit about Nash?”

  I felt him pull back, stung.

  Why are you so mad?

  “Because you just left me.”

  But… I am confused. I left?

  Relief washed through me, feeling warm and hazy, like a buzz. He hadn’t left me on purpose.

  “I thought you were dead,” I said as evenly as I could. “It’s been six days.”

  Dude… wow. Where did I go? And you’re not mad I’m back? Because that’s what you wanted all along.

  Not all along, I realized. At the beginning. He’d wanted the same thing back then.

  Not anymore. You know that. I told you I’m in love with you. We were practically together back there in that bath.

  Energy crashed into me. I couldn’t sit still. So I jumped out of the car and walked in the parking lot, to the next car over about fifty feet away and back. I paced it a coupl
e times, wanting to run around and scream, but trying to control myself.

  Is this anger? What’s going on? Talk to me.

  Finally I sat back in the car but left the door open, needing the cold air.

  “There’s an article that says you… ” I stopped, pulled in a shaky breath, and shook with a sob. I curled up into the driver’s seat, wanting to stop the tears and awful noise but I couldn’t. Marcus waited as long as he could stand it.

  What article?

  “Your name is Marcus Fields,” I whispered. “And you’re a professional snowboarder.”

  Images avalanched down on us, pouring through my head, taking both Marcus and me on a journey through practices and trail runs and competitions. I landed in his head, experiencing his life. We were on the board, going into the halfpipe.

  180. Bam! Sliding down the halfpipe to the other side.

  360. Bam!

  Marcus took the whole course, hitting jumps on both sides before shooting out the other end and out into flat snow, then he flew down the flats, remembering his life.

  What’s the date?

  “April… fifth.” I’d lost track of the actual date, to tell the truth. “Why?”

  First, we missed your birthday. Dude. Gonna have to fix that. And second, whohoo, the season isn’t over!

  His spirits soared to new heights. At least I hadn’t seen him like that.

  Avery, we can have it allllll!

  He pictured a long jump—no turns or flips, just sailing through the crisp, mountain air.

  My heart about exploded. I just couldn’t let go and feel all of that yet. “First things first.” I picked my phone up from the passenger seat and went back to the search results, scrolling down so we could see articles from a month ago:

  “Marcus Field Wins Gold in HalfPipe, Bronze in New Sport Slope style”