She emerged looking more than a little dazed. Through the endless clouds of puffy whiteness that hung everywhere up here, she walked in. Her eyes seemed to still be adjusting, as she was blinking rapidly, and it was a few moments before her eyes rested on me. I smiled at her and her mouth twitched up at the corners, a weak, worried attempt at a grin.

“Hey,” I said, clamouring to my feet and offering her my hand. “Augustus Waters.”

“Alaska Young.” She replied, her voice hesitant, her introduction sounding almost like a question. She seemed uncertain.

“Where am I?” she asked, her eyes flicking around restlessly.

“Heaven.” I explained simply, and sat back down.

She dropped down beside me, sitting down heavily. Her bright eyes were wide and scared, stunned.

“I’m…we’re…dead?” she stuttered

“Uh huh.” I said, nodding.

“Oh my God! This cannot be happening. It was just one moment, one stupid mistake! Stupid, stupid, stupid!” she exclaimed, and cursed under her breath.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. Try not to worry.” I told her, looking over at her for the first time since she sat down.

Alaska had chestnut-brown hair falling around her shoulders and big green eyes, framed by long lashes. She was small but curvy, with wide hips and a tiny waist. Her head was in her hands and she sighed. Her hair fell in curtains over her face, hiding her expression.  I felt bad for her, my stomach knotting. I remembered how I’d first felt when I first found out what had happened. It was terrifying, overwhelming, unbelievable. There was one thing – one person – that could make it all okay again. And I couldn’t have her; My Hazel Grace.

My eyes were trained on Alaska as she lifted her head out of her hands. She drew her knees up, like a child, and rested her pointed chin on them. She looked utterly devastated. I reached into the back pocket of my jeans and pulled out my box of Malboro Lights.

“Cigarette?” I said, offering her the pack.

She smiled and slid one from the box. As she did so, I saw her tiny, bitten fingernails were painted with chipped, blue polish. Alaska reached into the pocket of her shorts and pulled out a lighter. As she went to light up, I grabbed her wrist.

“You don’t light it. Put the killing thing right between your teeth,” I said, doing so. “But don’t give it the power to do its killing.”

She put the cigarette between her even, pearly teeth.

“A metaphor guy. I like you.” She announced.

I pointed down through the gathered clouds on which we sat. Our eyes rested on a boy with floppy blonde hair falling over one eye and a girl with a breathing cannula in her nose. Both were sat on a sofa, clutching video game controllers, cursing and yelling at the screen.

“That’s Isaac. He’s blind. Hence the reason why, when he yells at the game, it yells right back.” I explained.

Alaska looked down at him.

“And the girl?” she asked.

“Hazel Grace.” I said, smiling.

Alaska looked across at me, and her eyes rested on my smile for a moment.

“Girlfriend?”

I nodded.

“Cute.” Alaska smiled.

“I know. I want her to go into remission. I don’t want her to be sat up here with me just yet.”

Alaska’s smile faded, and she looked back at Hazel.

“’She have cancer?”

“Uh huh.” I sighed. “It’s how I…urm…”

I tailed off.

“Yeah, I get it.” Alaska cut in, and I nodded thankfully.

There was a comfortable silence whilst we watched Isaac and Hazel playing video games. Then Alaska spoke up.

“Hey, can you do that anywhere?”

“Do what?” I asked.

“That…that watching people.” She persevered. “Can you do it anywhere?”

“Uh yeah, I guess.” I answered. “I’ve only ever really looked at my family, Isaac and Hazel. Why?”

“Can we look at someone for me?”

“Urm…yeah, probably.” I decided. “Where are they?”

“Culver Creek School in Alabama.”

“Imagine it.” I ordered her, closing my eyes slowly.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw a birdseye view of a school campus through the clouds.

There was a circle of buildings surrounding a large area of grass inside. We could hear the voices of students talking, but not their words. It was like flies buzzing; you’re aware they’re making a sound, but it means nothing.

“I need to see the Colonel, Takumi and Pudge.” Alaska said, squeezing her eyes shut again.

I closed mine too, and moments later I could hear voices.

“Pudge, get your skinny ass over here. I got a theory.”

“No.”

“Pudge! Come on, dude!”

“She’s gone. I just want her back.”

“Pudge! I have a theory!”

“Okay, hit me.”

I opened my eyes just in time to watch a short, but muscular guy walk over to the set of bunkbeds in the corner of the room, and punch the arm of a skinny, lanky dude. The latter was laid on his back, staring at the bars supporting the top bunk mattress. He barely flinched as the other guy hit him. I felt so bad, because I’d seen that kind of grief. That was heartbroken, tragic, “I’ve-just-lost-my-first-love” kind of grief. Laying-on-the-bed-too-sad-to-move-and-anyway-what’s-the-point? type of grief. I’d seen it before. I’d seen it in Hazel.

I looked over at Alaska, who was crying. I couldn’t have said that it was okay, or that they’d get over it. The truth was, it wasn’t okay just then, and they probably wouldn’t get over it. They might learn to cope with the loss, but they would never “get over it”. So I said the only thing I knew to be true.

“They love you. They don’t want you to be sad. They’ve got each other.”

“Pudge,” she sobbed. “I kissed him and left!”

“What happened?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound too rude.

She didn’t take her eyes off Pudge and his roommate as she answered.

“Long story short, it was a crash. A mixture of being guilty, grieving, pissed off and really drunk. Cop car up ahead, didn’t brake in time.”

I sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“You?” she asked

“Cancer,” I said. “I told you.”

“How though?”

“God, you’re nosy.” I pointed out, then relented and told her anyway.

“I needed some more cigarettes. Hazel would have got ‘em, but I wanted to do it myself, ya know?”

Alaska nodded. She looked pretty independent, so I guessed she probably did know what I meant. I continued.

“Anyway, I was driving and I started to feel bad. Like, really sick. So I pulled over and threw up. But then I started feeling worse, sweating and puking, and my stomach was burning. So I pulled my shirt up and the G-tube pumping medicine into me to fight the cancer wasn’t working. I waited, like, an hour. And then I called Hazel.”

Alaska looked thoughtful, as if she understood this. But her eyes were questioning.

“Why’d you wait so long before you called her?” she asked, finally.

“I didn’t want to worry her. And…I wanted to do it by myself.”

“Do what?”

“Survive.” I answered, quietly.

Alaska was quiet and I didn’t talk either. Only her breath, barely audible, alerted her presence. I liked Alaska, she seemed like she’d be cool. Her eyes had wandered back to Culver Creek. I tuned back in and heard Pudge and his friend talking. The other guy was writing, and Pudge had rolled over onto his stomach, his head turned sideways on his pillow, so he could watch his friend. They seemed to be talking plans.

“What are they doing?” Alaska wondered aloud.

I paused a few minutes before answering her, listening to the conversation in the bunkroom below. By the time I answered, it seemed strange, like I was answering an unasked question.

“I think…I think they’re trying to piece together what happened to you.”

Her eyes were sad, but there was something else in her gaze, an emotion I couldn’t place. Defiance? Regret? Anger?

“There’s no point.” She answered, on a sigh. “No point looking for someone who can’t be found.”

And something told me, there was no point looking for Alaska.