The Last Wish of Sasha Cade

I collect my backpack slowly, blinking and swallowing as I try to regain some self-control. Every day since the email, I’ve been a walking bundle of nerves. The rest of the school is psyched for the weekend, but I couldn’t be further from excited. This must be what an anxiety attack feels like, I realize, as I grit my teeth and try to focus on breathing. I don’t even go to my locker to drop off my history book, as I need all my energy to make it to my car.

At home, I change into clothes for work. I am numb as I move around my room. Procrastination is no longer my friend.

Poor Elijah has probably been excited for this boat trip for days and I’m an asshole for not breaking the news to him sooner. What have I been afraid of? That he’s going to think I’m a lame excuse of a best friend, one who can’t even break some rules to honor his sister’s death?

Yes, that’s exactly it. I need Elijah to like me. The only thing worse than not fulfilling Sasha’s last wish would be leaving him feeling like it was all a pathetic waste of time because his tour guide sucked.

Sasha had nothing but blind faith in me, so the least I can do is have some myself. I can make this work without stealing a boat. Before I leave for Izzy’s, I sit down in front of my computer, open Sasha’s email and click on his username to create a new email.

Hey,

I’m really sorry but we can’t steal the Cades’ boat … Sasha is crazy. I was thinking we could just go visit the marina or something? I can still tell you stories, I promise. I just hate to think what would happen if we got caught.

Raquel

Elijah must be on a computer somewhere, because I get a reply only three minutes later, while I’m attempting to brush my scraggly hair into some kind of uniform direction. Heart thundering, I walk over and click on his message.

Having been in enough legal trouble in my life, there’s no way I’m stealing a boat, either. See attached. ;-)

Before finishing the email, I click on the PDF attachment. It’s a receipt from the marina. My mouth falls open as I read over it. He’s gone and rented a boat for three hours on Saturday. I look up and check the date at the top of the receipt. He booked it the day after Sasha’s email. He already knew. This whole time of me freaking out was for nothing because Elijah already had a plan.

I close the PDF and go back to his email.

Hope that’s okay? I’ll bring lunch, you bring dessert?

See ya,

Elijah

I grin while tiny acrobats do happy dances in my stomach. Oh, it’s more than okay, Elijah. It’s perfect.

Chapter Nine

Mom flips on the coffee maker and turns, one hand on her hip while she watches me scarfing down my breakfast. She reaches for a coffee mug and then peers down at me. “You’re up early.”

“It’s ten thirty,” I say with a snort as I shovel down another bite. This rumble in my stomach is unmistakably hunger. For the first time since Sasha’s death, I’m genuinely famished.

Mom grabs a spoon and French vanilla coffee creamer, then pulls out the chair next to me at the kitchen table. “Whatever you put in your Cheerios, I want some.”

“Nothing but cereal and milk in here, Mom.”

“Could have fooled me,” she says. “You have any plans today?”

“Yeah, I’m, uh —” I pull my eyebrows together and stare at my cereal like I just found a hair in it or something. Shit. I’ve been so thrilled about Elijah renting the boat that I haven’t thought up a cover story. It’s too soon after Sasha’s death to go to parties, or shop all day at the mall, or hang out with other friends. I wouldn’t even do any of those things without Sasha, anyway.

I clear my throat, inspired. “I’m thinking of heading to the library. Get caught up on homework and stuff.”

“That’s wonderful, honey. I have some books to return, so I could go with you.”

“No, that’s okay,” I say a little too quickly. I scoop up another bite of Cheerios and smile. “I’ll just take your books back for you. I’ll probably be a while … a few hours. Don’t want to make you wait.”

“Okay, thanks. They’re by the couch.”

I stand and rinse my bowl out in the sink, forgoing my usual drinking-of-the-milk routine because I don’t want to give her the chance to see the lie on my face.

“Have a good day,” Mom calls as I leave.

“Don’t worry,” I say sarcastically. “You know how much I love schoolwork.”