Oh, God, let me think good thoughts. Please. I wish I hadn't watched so many horror movies. I don't want to see anything terrible-like the ground splitting and hands reaching for me.
And I don't want anyone to meet me-looking like something rotting with bones exposed-after all.
She was in trouble. Even thinking about not thinking brought up pictures. And now fear was galloping inside her, and in her mind the bright meadow was turning into a nightmare of darkness and stink and pressure and gibbering mindless things. She was terrified that at any moment she might see a change-
And then she did see one. Something unmistakable. A few feet away from her, above the grass, was a sort of mist of light. It hadn't been there a moment ago. But now it seemed to get brighter as she watched, and to stretch from very far away. And there was a shape in it, coming toward her.
Chapter 3
First it looked like a speck, then like an insect on a lightbulb, then like a kite. Gillian watched, too frightened to run, until it got close enough for her to realize what it really was.
It was an angel.
Her fear drained away as she stared. The figure seemed to shine, as if it were made of the same light as the mist. It was tall, and had the shape of a perfectly formed human. It was walking, but somehow rushing toward her at the same time.
An angel, Gillian thought, awed. An angel...
And then the mist cleared and the shining faded. The figure was standing on the grass in front of her.
Gillian blinked.
Uh-not an angel, after all. A young guy. Maybe seventeen, a year older than Gillian. And... drop dead gorgeous.
He had a face like some ancient Greek sculpture. Classically beautiful. Hair like unburnished gold. Eyes that weren't blue, but violet. Long golden lashes.
And a terrific body.
I shouldn't be noticing that Gillian thought, horrified. But it was hard not to. Now that his clothes had stopped shining, she could see that they were ordinary, the kind any guy from earth might wear. Washed and faded jeans and a white T-shirt. And he could easily have done a commercial for those jeans. He was well built without being over-musdy.
His only flaw, if it could be called that, was that his expression was a little too uplifted. Almost too sweet for a boy.
Gillian stared. The being looked back. After a moment he spoke.
"Hey, kid," he said, and winked.
Gillian was startled-and mad. Normally, she was shy about speaking to guys, but after all, she was dead now, and this person had struck a raw nerve. "Who're you calling kid?" she said indignantly.
He just grinned. "Sorry. No offense."
Confused, Gillian made herself nod politely. Who was this person? She'd always heard you had friends or relatives come and meet you. But she'd never seen this guy before in her life.
Anyway, he's definitely not an angel.
"I've come to help you," he said. As if he'd heard her thought.
"Help me?"
"You have a choice to make."
That was when Gillian began to notice the door.
It was right behind the guy, approximately where the mist had been. And it was a door... but it wasn't.
It was like the luminous outline of a door, drawn very faintly on thin air.
Fear crept back into Gillian's mind. Somehow, without knowing how she knew, she knew the door was important. More important than anything she'd seen so far. Whatever was behind it was-well, maybe beyond comprehension.
A different place. Where all the laws she knew didn't apply.
Not necessarily bad. Just so powerful and so different that it was scary. Good can be scary, too.
That's the real gateway, she thought. Go through that door and you don't come back. And even though part of her longed desperately to see what was behind it, she was still so frightened that she felt dizzy.
"The thing is, it wasn't actually your time," the guy with the golden-blond hair said quietly.
Oh, yes, I should have known. That's the cliché", Gillian thought. But she thought it weakly. Looking at that door, she didn't have room left inside for cute remarks.
She swallowed, blinking to clear her eyes.
"But here you are. A mistake, but one we have to deal with. In these cases, we usually leave the decision up to the individual."
"You're saying I can choose whether or not I die."
"To put it sort of loosely."
"It's just up to me?"
"That's right." He tilted his head slightly. "You might want to think your life over at this point."
Gillian blinked. Then she took a few steps away from him and stared across the supernaturally green grass. She tried to think about her life.
If you'd asked me this morning if I wanted to stay alive, there would have been no question. But now...
Now it felt a little like being rejected. As if she weren't good enough. And besides, seeing that she'd come this far ... did she really want to go back?
It's not as if I were anybody special there. Not smart like Amy, a straight A student. Not brave. Not talented.
Well, what else is there? What would I be going back to?
Her mom-drinking every day, asleep by the time Gillian got home. Her dad and the constant arguments.
The loneliness she knew she'd be facing now that Amy had a boyfriend. The longing for things she could never have, like David Blackburn with his quizzical smile. Like popularity and love and acceptance. Like having people think she was interesting and-and mature.
Come on. There's got to be something good back there.
"Cup Noodles?" the guy's voice said.
Gillian turned toward him. "Huh?"
"You like those. Especially on a cold day when you come inside. Cats. The way babies smell. Cinnamon toast with lots of butter, like your mom used to make it when she still got up in the morning. Bad monster movies."