mischievously. "And sometimes I feel like that whiny girl at camp who cries the whole time for her mommy.
"Mom and Dad think I'm possessed," I added. "Sometimes Mom talks like I died in the accident. Dad actually said, 'Maybe you need another whack on the head, see if we can get the old Becky channel. Hey, maybe I can tune in the game.'"
"No! He actually said that?"
"He did. Thinks he's funny. His way of relieving the tension, I guess." I breathed deeply and let it out in a low, shaky exhale, trying to swallow the moisture building up in the back of my throat. "All my friends dumped me." My cheeks were suddenly hot with tears.
"Hey, I haven't dumped you."
I stopped myself and took another quick breath, trying and failing to shrug off the crying fit. "You know, I don't need those hyenas. Right after Christmas, when we got together just before the accident, it was like nothing real mattered. All I heard were laundry lists of all their new clothes and jewelry and gift cards." I met Gwen's eye. "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that's the way I was, too."
"I wasn't thinking that."
"Well, I was like that. But not anymore." I reached for Gwen's hand and squeezed it. "I haven't had anyone to talk to, I mean really talk to , since all this happened." I bit down on my tongue to hold back fresh tears. "There's stuff I haven't told anyone. Not the doctors, not my shrink, not even Mom. I've gotta unload."
"You can tell me."
"You've got to swear you won't repeat this. Not to anyone. Promise me."
"I swear. I promise."
I gazed at Gwen, steeling myself. It was time, at last, to reveal The Big Secret. "That night at the party, the night of the accident, I think I really did die."
"What do you mean?"
"I had one of those near-death experiences."
I waited for the mocking laughter that would have been the response from any one of my old friends, but Gwen just looked at me. "It's okay, you can tell me. It's safe."
"I'm still fuzzy about what happened just before the accident." I closed my eyes, trying to conjure the hazy pictures from the blackness. "I remember driving along. I remember Johnny was holding my hand. A bright light. Then the next thing I can piece together was me standing on the side of the road.
"I was just... standing there. It was butt-cold that night and there was dirty snow piled on the edge of the highway. I should have been freezing, but I wasn't. Our car had turned over and it was like lying in a kind of ditch. The front was completely smashed in and the windows were broken. I remember the glass. There was glass everywhere.
"I could see one of the boys in the front seat; Bill, I think. He was hanging partially out of the car. I was seeing all this but I wasn't really thinking. I was like shell-shocked, you know?"
Gwen shook her head. "I don't get it. If you were standing by the side of the road, how did you get so hurt?"
"That's just it. The police said they found me in the car with half the back seat wrapped around me. I couldn't have been standing by the road."
A warm softness filled me. "It was⦠peaceful. Perfect peace. Peace and what? Peace and I want to say, relief. Like, you know, it was done. I was done. It's all gonna be okay now.
"I don't remember everything. A lot of that first part is still hazy. For a long time everything was like all globbed together. It took a while to sort out. Actually, I'm still trying to sort it out.
"I know my Great Nana Mary was there, my mom's grandmother who died when I was a baby. I'd never really met her, you know, but I'd seen pictures. She told me she'd been kinda watching out after me. I guess she still is, maybe.
"And there was this man." I pressed my hand to my forehead as if I could push out everything that had happened so I could see and make sense of it. "This older man. He was like a tour guide or a concierge or something."
"Was this heaven or a hotel?" Gwen joked.
I smiled. "Yeah, I know. Really.
"No, he was like... like a really nice