The first thing I hear when I come to is my name.

"Alyssa! Alyssa!" He shakes my shoulders. "Alyssa!"

"I'm not Alyssa!" I spit as I open my eyes. I sit up slowly. I feel about as fine as one could feel after falling from a tree and getting the breath knocked out of them. But the height of the fall or the force of the fall is not what concerns me.

I whip my head in the direction in which I'd seen him, but there is no one there. There is no one anywhere. The park is empty besides those here upon Eli's request. But he had been there. Hadn't he? I'd seen him; I'd heard him call my name... hadn't I?

I conclude that I must not've been out for very long because my father and the others just now reach me.

"Asp— Alyssa, honey, are you alright?! What happened?" My father squats down and helps me up, hands on my arms.

"I'm fine," I say and shrug him off. Even though I know I can't say out loud what had really happened, for some reason I decide it's best for Dad to not know just yet, either. "I just slipped."

"Uh, it looked like it was a little more than that," comes from the peanut gallery.

"My foot slipped. I lost my balance," I repeat without looking back at him, angry. This is all his fault. I should never have let him throw me this stupid party. "That's it."

My father communicates his skepticism and worry to me through shades of green. I direct my next words to him, hoping he believes them. "I'm fine, Dad. Really."

My father nods, but his eyes do not soften, nor does his aura. He doesn't believe me.

I start towards the pavilion, eager to prove that I've not been hindered, pushing through the crowd of bystanders to my untimely collision with the earth. When we reach the picnic table, even though I've made sure to sit on the other end of the bench from him, I feel Eli's eyes on me, trying to ask a question, begging mine to meet them. They don't, and I hope he gets the hint.

The cake is one of those funfetti ones with chocolate icing, and it is entirely too sweet but I choke down the smallest possible piece I can manage without seeming rude. I have a plain hot dog with ketchup and everyone is in yellow and light blue spirits now that I'm okay — even Dad after a few minutes — and I play my part, just like I always have.

There is one gift bag on the edge of the table. I pretend not to notice it.

The adults ask what my plans are after graduation. Dad's stare could almost pierce a hole straight through my skull, but I'm proud when I keep my cool and answer without much hesitation. "My Dad and I like to travel during the summer." A smart answer on my part, if the vision I'd seen of Gray just moments ago holds any truth to his whereabouts. We will probably be leaving sooner rather than later.

Theresa nods her head. "Yes, Elijah told me that you travel for work, Andrew?"

I'm proud of him, too, as he avoids the obvious question and difficult answer. "Yes, but I've been fortunate enough to be able to take most summers off since her mother passed so that we can spend them together."

"That's wonderful."

A new voice enters the conversation, a voice on the other end of the table. "And what are your plans for college?"

I would ignore him if it weren't for the fact that his calling out to me down the line of guests has caused all eyes to pinpoint directly on me. He lifts a brow to me in challenge, and I know what he's doing. He's punishing me. Trying to get back at me for avoiding him. Saying, "There's no use trying to stay away from me; it won't work."

My heart picks up its pace as I look from one pair of waiting eyes to another. Thomas, Aja, Sol, Theresa, Kei. This answer, I'm sorry to admit, doesn't come out as smoothly. "I, uh. I. I applied to UNL."

The adults nod. Except for my adult. He says, "You did?" and his aura is a little reddish.

I don't look at him, because I know if I do it will only get redder. I look somewhere between Sol and Aja. "Yeah, Dad. Remember? I told you I filled out that application online." He doesn't answer, and I'm forced to meet his probing gaze. "I know what you're gonna say," I try to help him out. "That I could go anywhere with my GPA and test scores, that I could get into any school I wanted. But it's not up to you. It's important to me that I stay close to you. Close to home. Wherever that is."

I give him a small nod. Come on, Dad. Play your part.

I think I've lost him, but then he sighs heavily. "Alyssa, you know that's not what I want for you. But we'll talk about this later, hmm? Let's just enjoy the party."

Thankfully, because of the father-daughter tension Eli's question had caused, no one dares to ask anything further, so I don't have to make up some crap about my major.

"Thank you," I mouth to Dad between bites of brownie when no one's looking.

He gives a curt nod and a twitch of his jaw.

Just when everyone's finishing up eating, another car pulls into the lot in front of us, and I think, Please, dear God, don't be Chen. I've got enough to deal with right now. But the devastatingly beautiful Native American girl who gets out of the car isn't anyone I've ever met before.

"Elijah?! Ms. Teri? Is that really you?!" the girl cries as she bounds toward us. Her long, silky hair flows gracefully down her back, and her long legs are toned and tanned below her blue jean shorts.

Theresa, Sol, Kei, and Eli all stand to greet and hug the girl, but she is more concerned with the latter and latches on to him tightly.

"I haven't seen you guys in forever! What brings you?" Her aura is yellow, but neon, a slap in the face, and I already don't like her.

Eli points down the table to me, and I wonder if he's still trying to punish me. "Leila, this is my friend Alyssa. This is her graduation party. Alyssa, this is Leila."

She gives me a smile that doesn't reach her almond eyes as she waves to me. "Cool. Hey." Then she squeezes in next to Eli atop the bench and causes everyone on our side to have to scoot down and make room, although there's enough empty space on the opposite bench for two of her.

"So how've you guys been? I haven't seen you since, what, last Christmas?" But before anyone can answer, she giggles obnoxiously, and her teeth are white and straight and perfect. "Elijah, do you remember last Christmas? The mistletoe? Ehoⁿt!"

Eli laughs along with her, but it is not the carefree one he saves for me. This one is more pinched, more forced. I feel superior.

I start up a conversation with Kei across from me and try my hardest to zone out the two lovebirds at the other end of the table, but it's hard considering her aura won't shut up. And that's when I have to wonder... Is her aura only brighter and more annoying than the others' because I want it to be?

I know Dad feels the same way about her as I do because he leans in and whispers in my ear. "Lemons, lemons, lemons!" I almost choke on my soda, but he's made me feel better about my slight shade of green, and for that I am thankful.

Leila stays until we pack up and leave. I should probably feel grateful to her, seeing as she'd momentarily distracted Eli from asking any more questions that would get me into trouble. She clings to Eli in a suffocating goodbye-hug, after which she makes him promise to call her. She giggles some more and kisses his cheek and mine start to burn. Who does she think she is? This is my party, is what I think. But what I feel is, Who does she think she is? That is my Eli.

I thank Theresa and Sol for the food and humoring their son when he'd brought up his idea to throw a party for the girl he'd only really just met. They say no; of course; anyone who is important to Eli is important to us; it was no problem; it was our treat; we loved the excuse to come home anyway. Then I thank the boys for coming even though I know it's Eli who they came for. Sampson gives me a hug and Dex gives me a fist bump; Reggie says "Thanks for inviting us" and Jules smiles a little but says nothing. Eli waits with me after everyone else is gone, and I can no longer avoid him.

"Who is she?" I ask, and I try to make it sound casual, at once pushing the bigger issue between us aside in light of my burgeoning curiosity.

"Oh, Leila? She's a family friend. We used to play together when we were kids."

"Oh."

He smirks and nudges my shoulder with his. "Is someone wíut'áthe? Jealous?"

"God, no," I scoff, and I don't care how mean it sounds. "Just seemed to be a little more flirty than friendly is all."

I fear he'll further accuse me of being in love with him, but he doesn't say anything more, just looks at me, his brows pulled together, and I hope he's thinking about Leila instead of how I'd taken the plunge down from the seventh branch.

After Dad has helped the Whitneys bring the leftovers to the SUV (and a few into the Camry after politely declining to take them but giving up at Theresa's insistence), I give Eli a half-hearted excuse for a goodbye and lock myself in the car before his mouth can voice all the things his eyes reflect. Or worse, ask me to open his gift.

🦎

On the long ride home, I recline the passenger seat and roll over to face the window. I pretend I'm asleep but really I'm replaying the vision that lead to my fateful fall over and over in my mind, something I know it was because I never felt a gray aura, and he never showed up again. Even if he had been real, he couldn't have gotten too far, maybe seventy yards in any direction, because if my calculations were correct I was only unconscious for ten seconds, give or take. And in ten seconds' time he had seemingly dissipated into the air around himself. Which is impossible, even in this world where I can feel the colors of people's thoughts.

I have a terrible feeling that the vision might be related to the gray I'd felt at the prom, but I don't know in what way yet.

But besides the vision, something that, in this moment, seems far worse plagues me. When Eli had called my name — my fake name — I'd denied it. And the pleading stare from him for the majority of the remainder of the party, even after his childhood sweetheart crashed, confirmed to me that he'd heard me.

Dad drives the three hours home in silence, nonstop.

When we arrive to our nearest bunker, I go straight to my room and bring the gift with me. I set it down lightly in the corner by the door and fall down onto my bed. I close my eyes, but I can't shake the feeling of its presence in the room. I open my eyes, and it is staring at me condescendingly. I go over to it and throw a shirt over it so it can't see me, and I get back in bed. Three minutes later, I get back up and open the door to block it from my view.

On the fourth minute, I give in and open it.

The sole content of the bag is a book. It is titled What Should You Be When You Grow Up?: A Guide To Choosing The Right Career Path For You. I flip it open, and there's an inscription on the inside of the front cover.

A.R.G.,
Hoping this will do all the work so I don't have to.
Your only friend,
E.R.W.

My only friend. My only friend that I'm about to lose, if these visions and nightmares ring true.

I shut the book.

🦎

I can only pretend the dreaded conversation isn't inevitable until Monday. I hide out in the library until the first bell signals the four-minute warning before first period begins. I wait until three minutes have passed and I slip in just before the morning announcements begin.

"How are you feeling?" he whispers into my ear from behind.

"Okay."

"I tried to call you."

"I was resting. I suffered a head trauma, if you don't remember," I smart off to him. I wonder if he called Leila.

"I remember plenty," he retorts, and in it I hear a threat. We do not talk again for the rest of the period.

It is very hard for me to concentrate on asymptotes with Eli breathing down my neck, figuratively and literally. Even on a good day, he lacks the attention span to pay attention to Mathers for a full fifty minutes; I've no idea how he managed to squeeze into a senior level math at only a junior. Instead, he copies my notes and I assume goes home and studies them later. Some small, sick part of me has once considered taking incorrect notes just to see if he'll notice my error.

I watch the clock. I pack my bag early and have it pulled halfway up to my shoulder, so that when the bell rings I can jet out and to my next class before Eli can try to interrogate me.

What I hadn't accounted for was Eli having the same plan. As soon as I've exited the room and stepped foot into the hallway, he reaches out and presses a hand to my arm to stop me. He jumps in front of me before I can walk away, the giant at the top of the beanstalk. I am Jack, and English is the gold.

"We need to talk about this," says the giant.

Jack has got three possible choices: One, play dumb and act as if I don't know what he's talking about in hopes that he will drop the subject altogether. Two, admit that I know what's bugging him and that we do need to talk about it, but lie through my teeth. Or three, run.

"About what? I've gotta get to English."

Despite my choosing option number one, I still fully expect him to recall Saturday's festivities to me in harsh tones until I remember. But he doesn't.

"Fine." He folds his arms across his chest. "If you wanna avoid me so badly, go." He's chosen another tactic, using passive-aggressiveness to guilt me.

It works. He's turned me into the bad guy, and I cannot have that. I am not the bad guy. Gray is. And he is even bigger and badder than the beanstalk giant.

"What do you wanna talk about," I say.

The giant's eyes flicker with happiness briefly before he remembers his angle, and his face hardens. "When I shook you awake. You said your name wasn't Alyssa."

My stomach flips as he finally says out loud the thing I'd known all along that he'd heard. Jack moves on to option number two; I relax my features and attempt to play it off. If I look convincing enough, maybe he'll believe me. "I was unconscious. I don't remember what I said."

"Exactly," he says firmly. "Your subconscious spoke. The deepest, you-est part of you. And it said you weren't you."

I fake a laugh, tiny and hoarse, and it scratches my throat coming out. "That's ridiculous. Of course I'm me. Why would my subconscious believe something that wasn't true?"

"I don't know." He searches my eyes for answers that my lips won't give, and every second that passes by makes me more and more nervous, as if I believe that he will look so deep into them that he will see the truth, and I'll be toast. "Maybe because it is true?" he asks slowly.

I smirk, and the fact that I do it so easily kills me. "You've got a big imagination, kid," I tell him, and with a patronizing pat atop his shoulder, I continue on to English. Option number three.

He calls after me. "You wanted to tell me! I know you did!"

I keep walking without looking back and pretend I have no idea what he's talking about even though I do. I had wanted to tell him. But I was thinking recklessly, letting my emotions in that moment get the best of me. I have never given up my identity to anyone, and I'm not about to start now.

🦎

Dad is waiting for me when I get home. His aura is, of course, olive green. He wastes no time in asking how my day was. Instead, he says something even worse to me than what I'd said to Eli when I'd come back into consciousness.

"You saw him, didn't you?"

"Who?" I ask, just in case. Back to option number one.

"Him. That's why you fell, isn't it?"

I take a moment to weigh my options for the second time in twelve hours. Do I lie? Do I pretend I don't understand who he means? Do I tell him the truth and risk everything? I take too long to answer, and his aura actually relaxes, and I know he knows.

"How did you know?"

My father sighs. "Because I've been seeing him, too."

Wide-eyed, I drop my bookbag and meet him on the sofa. This is one turn of events I could've never seen coming. "You have?"

He nods and his aura turns black as he remembers. Fear. "The first time was in the house. I ran at him, screaming, and punched his face in. He never moved, but I hit the wall. And when I turned around, no one was there. I searched every inch of the house. All the doors and windows were locked. He wasn't anywhere."

I shudder involuntarily, imagining. What would I do if I saw him in the very same room? Would I think he was real? Would I confront him? Would I run? Three options; always the same three options. "And the other times?" I ask, not sure if I want to know, but knowing that I need to.

"Once last week at the front of the neighborhood when I went out to get the mail. I called out to him and he just stood there. When I blinked he'd vanished." He rubs his forehead, attempting to smooth out the lines there, massage away the worry. "And the other time was the night you went to the prom. That's why I slept in the living room. I was so scared you weren't coming back. I should've made you take your phone. I don't know what I was thinking."

His blue eyes are glassy and his aura's a relieved shade of lavender as he continues to recall that night. "I woke up and you were asleep on the sofa. I was so relieved. Mom brought you home to me."

I'm quick to speak so that he might not hear the nervous beating of my heart. "Why didn't you say anything?" I ask instead of saying that it was actually Eli who brought me home.

"I thought I was being paranoid. I knew they weren't real. I thought I was going crazy."

I jump at the opportunity to voice what, in the back of my mind, I've always known. "It's him, Dad. It's got to be! Putting the visions in our heads!" My father shakes his own head, refusing to believe, always skeptical and anxious, always one shade of green or the other. "I can't think of any other explanation. Can you?"

"I don't know, Aspen. I just want you to be safe." He puts a hand atop my arm, attempting to be comforting, and I know what comes next. I squeeze my eyes shut tight as if somehow if I can't see him, I won't be able to hear him either.

He speaks gently. "Maybe we should go ahead and pick a new place."

Before making the conscious decision to, I pull my arm out from beneath his palm and stand, one swift movement. "No. We can't leave. Not yet. Not now."

His aura turns to gray. Tired. "Because you like Eli."

My face gets warm. "No, because I'm about to finally graduate," I say, and it's the truth. "I've got three more weeks. Three more weeks! And only a month 'til I can walk. If we leave now, I'll have to retake this semester all over again. And I'll be twenty, still in high school. Pathetic."

"The goal is not to prove you're capable, which you already know you are; it's to keep you alive."

I throw my hands in the air. "You're the one who doesn't believe the visions are from Gray! Therefore, you have no proof that he's even on our trail!" Upon seeing the hurt look on his face — hurt not because I've challenged his judgment, but hurt that I'd rather risk my safety than move again — I decide to change my argument into one where he pities me, my tone from harshness into softness, hoping it will work. "We can't leave," I beg him. "We have to stay. I have to say goodbye. Please."

It works. He has no proof that Gray is near, only his constant companion, worry. He nods.

"Saturday was the first time?" he checks.

"Yes," I answer honestly, leaving out the little part about the prom. That hadn't been a vision. So, technically, I'm not lying.

"This isn't gonna be another Frankie episode, is it?" he asks, and in it is a warning.

I give him a reassuring smile. "Not hardly. I'll handle it," I tell him.

And I pray that I can.

__________

So I'm kinda sad because if I'm calculating everything correctly (which I'm not positive if I am even though it's my own book smh) this is our halfway mark. Once I get it all published on WattPad, I intend to reread and add things in that I missed the first time 'round. But for now, we're looking at about 21 chapters, not including the flashback in-between chapters. So it's kinda good and kinda bad: good because you are halfway to finding out who Gray is and what he wants, but bad because there's still so much more I wanna do with #Elispen and because of the timeline I have set (she has one month left), I'm stressing out. I have about 15 chapters written, and once I get to that point, I will be caught up with myself and continue actually writing instead of merely editing. And that's scary.

LilianaAra makes me more edits than I know what to do with. Attached is one of her newer creations. It gives me a Twilight-y vibe, and I am okay with that because everything is always Twilight always. (Am I being ironic or serious? I'll never tell.)

Glossary:
ehoⁿt - feminine exclamation; verbal exclamation point at the end of an utterance
wíut'áthe - to be envious or jealous