Eternity by Heather Terrell Page A

hallway but didn’t want to spend too much time with me in a small subcommittee meeting. I smiled at the thought of scaring away the indomitable Missy.
    As Amanda worked her way around the room, culling volunteers, the guy turned to me. “Since we’ll be working together, I guess I should properly introduce myself. I’m Rafe. Rafe Gregory.”
    He stuck out his hand in greeting.
    I almost didn’t take Rafe’s hand. I’d avoided touching anyone other than Michael or Ruth since I’d returned from Boston, because I didn’t want to experience any flashes. Then I thought twice. I’d had a strong reaction to him; and these days, strong reactions unnerved me. Was he really an average high school kid? There was only one way to be certain.
    I extended my hand. As we shook, initially I received a very mild flash from him. I saw Rafe as a very small child, maybe three or four, flying a bright red kite. The sky was unbroken cerulean blue, and young Rafe was delighted with the way the red stood out against the sky’s vivid blueness. I wondered what made him think of that image right now.
    The scene was quickly replaced with a more intense flash. Through Rafe’s eyes, I watched myself entering the gymnasium. He stared at me as I hunted around for an empty seat, and I felt his pleasure when I noticed the opening next to him. As I sat down, I heard him thinking how cute I was.
    I quickly withdrew my hand, even though I kind of liked another guy thinking nice thoughts about me after watching Michael get so much attention from other girls. But honestly, I didn’t need any more information, because I had the answer to my question. Yes, Rafe seemed like an average teenage guy.
    Rafe looked at me and smiled. “And you are Ellie—?”
    “Ellie Faneuil. I’m Ellie Faneuil.”
    “Nice to meet you, Ellie Faneuil. Looks like we’ll be seeing quite a bit of each other.”

Chapter Twelve
     
    The committee had meetings planned for the next two nights. The worldwide need was desperate and urgent, so Amanda proposed that we organize a county-wide party for high-school students in two weeks time. For the first time in days, I felt useful and busy. It quelled the misgivings about my role that lurked beneath my exterior.
    On Tuesday and Wednesday nights, the twenty subcommittee members—me, Rafe, two senior girls from Tillinghast I didn’t know except by sight, fifteen kids from neighboring high schools, and the prissy, rigid Amanda—spent hours figuring out how to coordinate an enormous event on such short notice. Even though I was certainly not a partygoer, I relished mapping out the tasks, creating a timeline, and making lists of potential donors for drinks, food, decorations, and even music for the party. I liked rolling up my sleeves and doing something instead of sitting around my house. All the work took my focus off the end days.
    As did watching Rafe and Amanda spar.
    “You think that it matters to the earthquake victims if the invitations are printed in blue ink or green?” Rafe was exasperated with Amanda’s long monologue on the party invitations’ lettering. He didn’t have to say it out loud. He clearly thought that Amanda was using the earthquakes as an excuse to host a big party.
    “Of course it matters, Rafe. We want as many people to attend the party as possible, don’t we?”
    “And you truly think the deciding factor will be the invitation ink color? That kids won’t come out to help alleviate an enormous tragedy unless they find the invitations aesthetically pleasing?”
    “You never know what will sway people’s decisions, Rafe,” Amanda said primly, as she held up yet another invitation mock-up for the subcommittee to vote upon.
    I stifled a laugh as Rafe rolled his eyes in utter frustration at Amanda’s perspective. No matter how misguided and myopic they were, she was tenacious in her beliefs. As was he.
    “Amanda, we shouldn’t be spending our time worrying about invitations or music or