CHAPTER SIX

  The Weenie Roast

  II

  It was Jack’s hand Ez was holding as they strolled along a country lane, flanked by wheat fields of early-summer green. A honey sun hung low before them; whether on the rise or on the set, Ez didn’t know. What she did know was that none of this was real. There had been a time when she would have allowed herself to forget that Jack was dead. Not anymore. Indulging such illusions only led to further grief. “This is a dream,” she said firmly.

  “A beautiful dream,” Jack replied. As he turned his head, the stark light cut across his face, leaving one side of it in shadow and the other glowing gold. On that side, the pigment of his iris was revealed to be deepest brown, not black as it appeared most of the time. It was torture to look at him.

  “Seven years,” Ez said. “Why do I keep doing this to myself? Why can’t I let you go?”

  “Our love is stronger than death, babe.”

  Ez snorted. “You would say something like that.”

  “I just did say it.”

  “I mean the real you would have, before…” Ez put a hand to her forehead. “Why am I explaining myself to myself? Why am I talking to you at all? You’re just a figment of my stupid brain.”

  Jack winced. “Ez, look around… This is a perfect moment. Can’t we let ourselves have this? Can’t we just pretend?”

  “No, me,” Ez said, nudging him with an elbow. “I can’t let myself pretend. Because tomorrow I have to wake up and live my life without… him.” She had almost said you.

  “I’m sorry—”

  “No!” Ez stopped walking and pushed Jack away. “I’m done dreaming about him, brain. He’s gone. Give me a dream about Wilburn. Hell, give me a dream about Gramma Fark for all I care.”

  “How is Wilburn?” Jack asked eagerly. “How’s Mom? Have you seen her lately?”

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  “SHUT UP!” Ez shouted, clamping her hands over her ears. She spun around to face the empty green horizon. Jack tapped her on the shoulder. Ez folded her arms, refusing to look at him.

  “Okay,” Jack said. “Okay. I’ll try not to come back for a while. It’s just… I love you, Ez. I can’t stop loving you.” He sighed. “I’m such a selfish bastard. I know it’s wrong to turn up in your dreams like this… even though you probably won’t remember. But it’s still wrong. Okay, I’m sorry. I’m going. I’m sorry. Okay, bye. But just in case—I’m a wizard…” he recited the final three words in an exasperated, learned-by-heart tone, and then was silent for so long that Ez began to think it had worked, that she had finally quit dreaming about him. But when she turned around, she found him still standing there, ashen-faced, his jaw hanging open. “I said it…” he said. His jaw dropped further. Jack stared into Ez’s eyes, then did double take. “You know…” he breathed. Then— “YOU KNOW!” he shouted, and he swept Ez up in his arms as if she weighed nothing and spun her around and around and around, laughing uproariously.

  It was so spontaneous that Ez forgot the greater context. She forgot that she was dreaming, that the man embracing her was only a projection of her sleeping mind. She forgot to remember that Jack was dead, and for a moment she was caught up in his joy. They laughed together as they spun. Ez hadn’t noticed that their feet had left the ground. But suddenly, they were flying, flying high above a green sea, stretching from forever to forever, unbroken but for the wending ribbon of the road.

  “I always wanted to do this,” Jack said, and kissed her, a bajillion feet in the air. After some time, or perhaps no time at all, their lips parted and Jack let out a wolfish howl, throwing back his head and punching his fist in the air. “Magic!” he yelled. “It feels so good to finally say it! …to you, I mean.” He sighed, as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. “Magic,” he repeated, with relish. “So, Wilburn inherited the gift. Well, of course he must’ve. How else could you know? Unless... wait, babe, you didn’t marry a different wizard, did you?”

  “No, Jack,” Ez laughed.

  “Thank GOD.” Jack looked as if he’d actually been worried. “Okay, listen, I’m dying to hear the details—mmm, poor choice of words—I need to hear the details, but the thing is, I’ve edited this dream too much. Agents will be here any minute to arrest me. Do you know about Frogswallow’s yet?”

  “Only that it’s a school for wizards,” Ez said. “Your mom mentioned it.”

  “Did she mention the hovels?”

  “What hovels?”

  “Good,” Jack spoke softly in her ear. “Bodfish, Dukleth, Akerblade, Hinkle, and Zwifelhoffer: the Five Hovels of Frogswallow’s College, named for the five original disciples. I was in Akerblade. Mom was in Hinkle. There. God’s balls, this is incredibly illegal, but that’s proof, Ez, proof that I’m not a figment of your imagination. When you hear those words,” Jack rattled off the list again, “you’re going to remember, and you’re going to know that I’m—”

  Ez screamed. Two figures had appeared from nowhere. The two figures appeared to be made of nowhere. Their forms were surfaceless, as if someone with a giant pair of scissors had cut human-shaped holes in reality. They made no sound as they seized Jack by either arm and began hauling him away. “Worth it!” Jack called, beaming at her. “So worth it. I love you, Ez!”

  “I… love you too,” she answered. Then she was falling, and the dream dissolved around her like a soap painting rinsed off a pane of glass.