The Last Wish of Sasha Cade

“Girl, break up with him!” She puts a hand over the phone and leans in close to the video, whispering, “If you’re still dating him when you watch this, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Then she goes back to the phone call, the one I’m starting to remember making since her 142 minutes comment struck me as weird back then, and she says, “I didn’t mean to yell. I love you, Rocki, but you need a better man than Zack. You’ll find him one day, I promise.”

“I don’t know about that,” I say through her phone. “I mean I’m too fat and too pathetic for anyone to care about.”

At that, my cheeks go red and I want to throw my laptop across the room so Elijah can’t hear any of this. But it’s too late — he’s heard every word. And he can still hear our conversation, because it’s still playing. I cover my face with my hands and bend forward, burying my face in my knees.

“Oh my God, this is so embarrassing,” I say, while the recorded version of me goes on and on, bitching about how gamer girls send Zack sexy photos and he keeps them and it pisses me off.

I groan in real life. A warm hand touches my back. “It’s okay,” Elijah says, his voice low and soft. “You want to fast-forward?”

I look up just as Sasha ends the call. With his hand still on my back, Elijah and I watch Sasha make this “mom look” at the screen.

“Listen to me, Raquel. I know you won’t listen when you come over in a couple of hours, but maybe you’ll listen now that I’m dead. You are a beautiful, wonderful person. You’re the greatest friend I’ve ever had, and if we were gay, I’d have asked you out years ago,” she says with a grin.

I try not to feel so freaking embarrassed in front of Elijah. Sasha continues, “Zack treats you like shit. He walks all over you, flirts with other girls both in real life and online, and he does it because you let him. Stop being a doormat, Rocki. You are better than that. And stop calling yourself fat. I think you’re hot, okay? And the opinion of a dead girl is a hell of a lot more reliable than that of your own low self-esteem. Got me?”

She points to the screen, her eyes narrowed. I choke out a laugh and Elijah’s hand slides up and down my back in a comforting way.

While Sasha gets up to put her copy of the DVD in her own player, Elijah turns to me, brushing my hair behind my ear. “You okay?”

I nod.

He shifts over until he’s sitting in the middle seat right next to me. “Sasha was a really good friend.”

“The best,” I croak.

“Are you

still dating that guy?”

I look up and he’s even closer now, his hand wrapped around my shoulder. I shake my head. “No. Not really.”

“Well then, you’ve made her proud,” he says.

“I hope so.”

Elijah’s hand squeezes my shoulder and it all happens so fast. I slide over just a little, letting my head fall into the crook of his collarbone. His arm stays wrapped around me, his fingertips gripping my upper arm. His heartbeat is strong and steady, a constant reminder that a piece of Sasha is still here on earth with me.

Sasha tells us when to press play, and that iconic Harry Potter theme music fills my living room with its magic.

“She’s right, you know,” Elijah whispers as the movie starts.

“About what?” I ask, letting my hand rest on his stomach.

“You are beautiful,” he says, staring straight ahead. A muscle in his jaw twitches. “It’s a shame you don’t feel that way.”

Chapter Thirteen

The next email comes a day later, while I’m at Rancho Grande eating dinner with my parents. My dad is of the old-fashioned variety, and he can’t stand phones at the table, especially since he works so much and our family time is limited. I’ve hidden my phone in my lap, under my cloth napkin. When it vibrates and I secretly check it, there’s an email from TheFutureSasha. I know I have to stay cool.

I manage to force down two more bites of my tacos al carbon, although now the normally delicious food is just another obstacle between me and that message.

“I need to use the restroom,” I say, folding my napkin and setting it on the table. My parents barely acknowledge me and continue their conversation, and I walk as quickly as a normal person might walk on their way to the bathroom.

Once inside, I slip into a stall, lock the door behind me and lean against the cool, colorful Spanish-tiled wall.

Hey favorites,