Free Hallowed by Cynthia Hand Page A

is walking, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, and wishing she could cry. If I could just flipping cry, she thinks—I think —then maybe the ache wouldn’t be so bad.
    All I can do is stay along for the ride and observe. Now that I know this is a cemetery, that this is a funeral procession, it seems so obvious. Everybody’s wearing dark clothes. I notice gravestones scattered around under the trees. I try to pay attention to more than the grief raging in my head.
    It’s spring, I quickly figure out. The leaves on the trees, the grass, are new green. The air has that fresh-washed smell that comes after a spring rain, where you can still detect a hint of snow. There are the beginnings of wildflowers on the hillside.
    It’s going to happen in the spring.
    I can clearly make out Angela walking way off to the side, wearing a long violet dress.
    There’s Mr. Phibbs, my English teacher. Come to think of it, I recognize several people from school, maybe because school is the only place in Jackson where I know anybody. I see Mrs.
    Lowell, the school secretary, and her redheaded daughter, Allison. Kimber Lane, Jeffrey’s girlfriend. Ava Peters. Wendy, walking next to her parents, clutching a white rose to her chest. I see a flash of her face, which is paler than usual, her blue eyes all red and puffy. She doesn’t have a problem crying.
    Who’s missing?
    Warm fingers enclose mine. I look up at Christian. He squeezes my hand. I shouldn’t be letting him hold my hand, I think. I belong to Tucker.
    You can do this, Christian says in my head. There’s no doubt in him. No hesitation. He’s not worried that Tucker’s going to show up and have a problem with him holding my hand.
    The bottom of my stomach drops out.
    Tucker.

Chapter 6
    Sooner or Later
    “Five more minutes, people.”
    Government class. I’m watching Tucker take a test on the U.S. Constitution. I finished it fifteen minutes ago, so I’m sitting watching him as he leans over his paper, frowning, pausing to tap his pencil in a crazy rhythm on his desk like that might jog his memory. Things are clearly not going well.
    At any other time I’d find him adorable like this, all frustrated and pursed in concentration.
    But all I can think is, Who cares about a stupid government test? You’re going to die. And it’s my fault, somehow.
    Stop it. Stop thinking that. You don’t know for sure.
    But it feels like I do know. The conclusion I’ve come to is that Tucker was supposed to die in the fire. If I hadn’t abandoned my purpose, if I hadn’t flown off to save him, he would have died up there in the woods above Palisades. That was his destiny. I was supposed to choose Christian. Tucker was supposed to die. Now, with this new dream, it feels like the same thing playing out again. Christian and me, walking in the woods again. Tucker dead.
    Only this time, it’s not some split decision that I have to make. This time I’ll have months to agonize over it.
    And here’s the other realization I’ve come to: it doesn’t matter how much time I’m given to think it over. I’ll still choose Tucker. I don’t care if it screws up my purpose.
    I’m not going to let him die.
    The problem is, I don’t know how it’s going to happen, so I don’t know how to stop it.
    It’s like that movie Final Destination , where these people were supposed to die in a plane crash, but they got off the plane and so Death comes hunting them down, one by one, because they were supposed to die . I’ve been over the craziest scenarios, like: a) Tucker gets in a car wreck, b) he chokes on a piece of meat at dinner, c) he gets struck by lightning because it never ever stops raining, d) he slips and falls in the shower and drowns, or e) his house gets hit by a meteor. But what can I do about that? It’s not like I can be with him all the time. I did get so wigged out that I sneaked out to his house a couple times in the middle of the night to watch over him while he slept,