The incapacitating ache unfurled itself in my chest again. It told me, in the most basic if silent terms, what I knew I would do now. What I knew I would always do, whenever Joshua suggested something scary or unknown.

I sighed heavily. “Okay. We’ll go to the library. We’ll try to find my picture.”

It was now Joshua’s turn to frown. You sure? he mouthed.

I started to answer No, I’m not sure I want to know who I am. Then I thought better of telling him the whole truth and instead chose to tell him only part of it.

“If you’re with me, I’m sure I’ll be okay.”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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Chapter

Fourteen

After Ms. Wolters’s class ended and other students made their way to their next classrooms, Joshua and I strolled across the empty back lawn of the school.

Every few seconds, Joshua would brush his hand against mine, sending sparks up, then down, then back up my arm. Despite the thrill of his touch, I moved with an intentional slowness toward the main building, knowing that through its door lay the library.

“You know,” Joshua said, interrupting my thoughts, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

He kept his expression perfectly even, perfectly casual. I knew better, though.

I’d only known Joshua for three days. Yet I knew him well enough to hear the false note in his words. I could see the thoughts dancing in his eyes: unlike me, he wanted to go to the library. He wanted the excitement of discovering something new about me, of piecing my past together.

And he was right; I knew it.

Last night, after talking with Eli, I knew that my “nature”—the kind of person I was, both before and after I died—played a crucial role in how I would spend my afterlife. So I needed to know everything I could about myself before I had to face Eli or Ruth again. In fact, if I was completely honest with myself, I knew how essential today’s mission was.

Of course, that didn’t mean I had to share Joshua’s enthusiasm. As he walked beside me, I could see him bouncing ever so slightly, jittery from excitement about our task. The brightness in his eyes and the happy swing of his arms contrasted starkly to my own appearance, which probably had a funereal sort of air.

Whatever my mood, it was hard not to be a little flattered by Joshua’s behavior. I stifled a sigh before plastering a cheerful smile on my face.

“No, Joshua, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

He must have been too excited to catch on to the undercurrent of my words, because he looked completely satisfied by my terrible lie. His entire face lit up as he skidded to a stop and leaned close to me.

“Really? Because I had another idea. You know, if the whole yearbook thing works out.”

“Oh, and what’s that?”

“Well, say we find your picture. That’ll mean we’ve also found your last name. All we have to do is find it in the phone book and then, presto, we’ve found your family. It’s not like Wilburton’s that big of a town. If you’ve got an uncommon last name, chances are pretty good the people who share it are related to you, right?”

When he finished his excited little rant, I gulped. His idea put another wrinkle in this afternoon’s plans—a new level of anticipation and fear.

“Let’s . . . uh . . . let’s take this one step at a time, okay?” I laughed shakily.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re definitely right. One step at a time.”

Once again, he couldn’t fool me. Though he sounded serious and he frowned as he nodded, his eyes sparkled with his new idea. I didn’t even try to hide my sigh this time as he hurried toward the back door.

We entered the school and strode through its halls—each of them itching at me with familiarity, just as the buildings themselves had done previously—before we reached two double doors. Through their glass panes I could make out rows and rows of tall bookshelves. I grabbed the fabric of my skirt and began twisting it wildly.

With one hand pressed against a door, Joshua looked down at me. Though he seemed a little less eager now, his expression was still resolved. Whether I liked it or not, he was going into that room.

“Ready?” he asked.

No.

“Sure,” I squeaked aloud.

He nodded and pushed open one of the doors. I tried to clear my throat of the stupid squeak, steeled myself a bit, and then followed him into the library.

A long reception desk guarded the entrance. Its counter was piled high with returned books, and its sides were taped up with a cluster of inspirational posters. One proclaimed YOU CAN DO IT!, so I gave that poster a spiteful glare.

Joshua walked purposefully toward the back of the library, and I followed behind him as he wove through the rows of shelves. Finally, Joshua stopped between the last row of bookcases and the farthest wall of the library.

We were in the reference section, judging by all the outdated dictionaries and encyclopedias. Joshua bypassed these in favor of a few shelves near the floor. He crouched down and began running his index finger along a row of thin books, each covered in black or purple. I shuddered.

Yearbooks.

After only a few moments, Joshua apparently found the group of books he was seeking. He began pulling out handfuls, reading their spines before putting them back or tucking them into the crook of his arm. When he eventually stood, he held about ten Wilburton High School yearbooks. I leaned to one side in order to stare at their spines. Printed there in varying shades of metallic ink were dates, all ranging from the 1990s to the mid 2000s. I leaned back up and stared at Joshua, terrified.

Joshua, however, was all business as he carried the stack of yearbooks over to a desk. He separated the books into two piles on the desktop, drew out one chair for me, and sat down in his own. I slipped into my chair and folded my hands in my lap, unsure of what to do next.

Joshua pushed one of the stacks closer to me and then pulled the other toward him. He opened the yearbook on top of his stack and flipped through its pages until he found the first one with student pictures. Placing a finger on the page, he began to scan the photos, comparing each face to the corresponding name printed near the margins.

After he’d done so for a few minutes, I cleared my throat. He glanced up at me, still frowning in concentration. Then he frowned harder and tilted his head.

“Why aren’t you looking through your books?” he whispered. I answered in my regular voice, although the words themselves came out soaked in embarrassment.

“Because I can’t open the books, Joshua.”

“Huh?”

I stared down at my lap and began to scratch at my dress with one fingernail. “I told you—you’re the only thing in the living world I can feel or affect. I can’t open doors, remember? So why would I be able to open a book?”

I just shrugged, but Joshua tucked a finger under my chin and lifted my head, holding it up until I met his gaze. When I looked, he was still frowning.

“Oh.” Joshua now sounded embarrassed, too. “I guess I wasn’t thinking. Sorry.”

I shrugged again, this time smiling wanly. “No big deal.”

He shook his head, not fooled, but returned the yearbook without another comment. He scooted the book closer to me on the desktop and leaned over as he flipped the pages, clearly intending for me to search with him. I chuckled a little to myself. Obviously, no death-related disability could get me out of going through these yearbooks with him.

We sat there, flipping through page after page in book after book, to no avail. We chose the books in no particular order, jumping from the 2000s to the 1990s and back again. I made no effort to point out the inefficiency of this process to Joshua, since each page-flip made my stomach drop in anticipation.