Radiance (Riley Bloom #1)(34)

And after that, we took to the streets, gliding above one of those bright-red double-decker buses London is famous for, and past brightly curtained windows of apartment buildings, or flats as the locals refer to them.

Then we swooped down even lower, just barely grazing the tops of tall trees, then lower still, just barely grazing the tops of tall people.

And when I extended my finger, just barely tapping the brim of some guy’s hat and knocking it right off his bewildered head, Bodhi turned toward me, a disapproving look in his eyes as his lips sank down in a frown. But I just laughed and I stuck my tongue out at him before doing it again for good measure.

We kept going, heading toward a busy circle I thought I recognized from pictures I’d seen of Piccadilly, and that’s when I spotted it.

Or rather, them.

The large crowds of people.

All of them hurrying off to the office, or school, or wherever it is that people rush off to after eating their breakfast and getting dressed for the day.

All of them sharing one thing in common—they were all headed somewhere, and they were all determined to get there quickly.

All of those hundreds of people with somewhere to go—every last one of them totally and completely oblivious of me.

Having no clue that I soared right above them.

No idea that it was I who caused the stir on the backs of their necks and the breeze at their cheeks.

Completely unable to see me in the way I could see them.

Clearly.

Succinctly.

Down to every last detail.

They were alive and breathing and so utterly clear to me, and yet—not one of them had even the slightest sense we existed.

A girl, her guide, and her dog—all hovering right there above them.

Gazing upon the clueless masses beneath.

My throat grew all lumpy, and my eyes started to sting, so I forced myself to switch my attention to something else, watching as Buttercup continued to chase birds, looping and spinning and swirling and jumping, putting out increasing amounts of effort to no avail whatsoever, and coming no closer to understanding why he was so unsuccessful.

I even sneaked a peek at Bodhi, who’d ditched the nerd wear the moment we took flight, quick to explain how he thought the suited look would command more respect, make people (meaning me and his guide) take him more seriously than we would had he being wearing his usual gear. Though I think we could both agree that as far as experiments went, that particular one was a massive fail.

But having swapped out the nerd wear for the far more appropriate jeans and sweater and sneakers kids his age usually wear, he was about as far from a dorky guy as one could possibly get. And I guess that’s why he seemed so off before. It was like, from the catcalls that followed him to the stage at graduation, to that casual, slouchy way that he stands, not to mention the way he really tears it up on a skateboard—well, it just didn’t fit with the look he was trying to pull. It’s like he was in disguise before, like he was wearing some kind of costume, determined to hide the fact that he was just like any other normal fourteen-year-old boy.

Only Bodhi wasn’t normal.

Not even close.

Because not only was he dead. Not only was he my guide. But with his hair no longer greased back, with his clothes no longer coming from Nerd Central, with his face no longer obscured by those awful, unbreakable frames that he wore, he was actually, well, cute.

No. Scratch that. Because the truth is, he was way past cute.

He was pretty much the Zac Efron of the afterlife.

But the second he caught my eye, caught me looking at him, I looked away.

The last thing I needed was for him to read those particular thoughts.

And just to protect myself further, just to keep everything orderly and straight and tucked away in its place, I’d also decided that, no matter how cute and nice he might continue to reveal himself to be—he would always, secretly at least, remain dorky guy to me.

It was easier that way.

I pushed my legs together and pointed my toes like arrows, having learned earlier that doing so would rid me of any and all wind resistance, and allow me to soar even faster and higher. And even though I heard Buttercup barking behind me, torn between chasing after me and a whole new flock of birds he’d stumbled upon, even though Bodhi called out to me, saying, “Hey—Riley—just say the word when you’re ready to come in for a landing!” I pretended not to hear.

Because the truth is, after seeing all that I had, I could no longer find it within me to land.

I’d suddenly become aware of something I’d failed to see before.

The earth kept spinning.

People kept loving, and laughing, and breathing.

Everyone remained busy with the busy-making business of living.

And not one of them even sensed my existence.

Not one of them even knew I still walked among them.

Not to mention how it was time to face the fact that even the people who had known me—my friends and teachers and stuff—well, they’d already moved on. Already moved away from me, and on with their own lives—having reduced me to a small, packed-away memory of a poor, unfortunate, twelve-year-old girl whose life was abruptly cut short. Not wanting to dwell on my loss any longer than necessary, lest it make them ponder their own ever-shrinking existences.

And while I knew Ever missed me, as did my aunt Sabine, as far as everyone else was concerned, well, the number of people who even still thought of me on the rarest occasion was dwindling down to only a few.