Every night, I like to gamble with death by going on a drive. 

I get into my car, turn up the music as high as it can go, and blaze through the highway beneath the smoke-covered sky. Smiling every time the car nearly topples over. It’s what I do every day. 

But today, if everything goes right, I won’t have to ever again.

Then I see her. 

I yelp and slam the brakes on my car. The tires screech. “What on earth…” I whisper, and I lean forward. 

Somebody is standing in the middle of the street. Short enough to be a child, maybe nine, and wearing a ghost costume– A white sheet with a pair of holes cut out for eyes. 

It’s not even Halloween. I shake my head in disbelief and wait for the kid to leave. 

Instead, they begin to walk towards my car. 

It’s probably a peddler. I put my hand on the steering wheel and prepare to drive away. But then they’re standing in front of the window, and they knock on the glass. 

I sigh and open it. “Yes?” I ask. 

The kid looks at me. Their eyes are honey brown, all I can identify through the sheet. The color is oddly familiar. 

“Can I come in?” They ask, their voice high and piping. Probably a little girl. 

“If you need a ride, I can give you money for a taxi–” 

“No.” She says it so forcefully I flinch. “Chloe. Can you please let me in?” 

I stare at her. “How do you know my name?” 

“I’ll tell you later.” 

Do I know her? I try to place her eyes, but it’s impossible. Maybe she’s a distant cousin. 

Despite myself, I open the car doors. A click sounds and the girl slides into the passenger's seat. She looks around the torn leather and empty cans shoved into cup holders. I try not to feel embarrassed. 

“Is there anywhere you need to go?” I ask. 

“Wherever you’re going.” She replies. 

You probably don’t want to know where I’m going, I think to myself.

I begin to drive once more. Slower, and without music. 

“So,” I say. I glance at the girl. She’s sitting curled up, head against the window. I take note of her untied yellow sneakers. “Do you want to introduce yourself?” 

“Not now,” She replies. 

I roll my eyes. “Forgive me for being suspicious. But you showed up in the middle of the night, stood on the road, and demanded to be let into my car.” 

“I just want to talk to you,” The girl says. 

“I literally don’t know you.” 

“You do know me.”

“If you explain–” 

“Not now.” She repeats. 

I sigh. “Of course.” 

We enter the city. The scenery changes, empty roads filling up with swarming lights and buzzing people. 

I notice the way the girl’s staring. “You’re not from here?” I ask. 

She shakes her head. “No. Why is there so much ivy?” 

“Oh, that,” I glance at the vines snaking up sidewalks and office buildings. “It appeared a few years ago. An invasive species.” 

“What about the smoke?” 

“That’s been here forever.” 

“Huh.” She looks out the window again. 

When a gas station appears, I park, and the girl and I go inside. Past a teenage cashier on his phone, we step into the aisles, filled with an endless array of neon packages. 

“What are you getting?” The girl asks. 

“Lemonade.” 

She pauses. “Are we going to visit Julia?”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, I freeze in my tracks. I turn around and stare at her. 

“How do you know Julia?” I demand. 

“I…I can’t explain right now.” 

“Oh my god.” My head spins. Grabbing two bottles of lemonade from the refrigerators, I head to the cashier. She can’t know Julia. How does she know Julia? 

At the cashier, a woman is checking out her things. She’s old, with a hunched back, and wears a yellow coat and hat. The cashier hands her a credit card. 

“This one is invalid, too,” He says. He yawns. 

“I’m very sorry about that.” The woman digs into her pockets. “I think I…” 

“Excuse me?” I startle as the girl pushes me aside and steps forward. She generates a hundred-dollar bill from her white sheet and hands it to the cashier. 

The girl and the woman share a smile. “Thank you so much.” The woman says. 

“Of course, ma’am.” 

“May good things await your future.” 

The woman takes her groceries. As she’s about to leave, she turns, and she looks at me. 

Her eyes are brown. Deja vu hits me. 

I know her. 

But, before I can think of anything else, she’s gone and the door is ringing behind her. 

I step forward and place the lemonade on the counter. I try to shake the uneasy feeling in me away. When it’s been bought, the girl and I walk back outside. 

“That was very kind of you,” I say, glancing at her. 

She shrugs. “You have to take care of others.” 

“Yeah,” I open the car door. “I guess so.” 

I can’t stop thinking about how what the girl did is exactly something Julia would’ve done. 

We arrive at the cemetery next. 

The girl and I get out of the car. We make our way inside, past the iron gate, through the gravestones. I stop to read every name and wonder what that person meant to a father or a wife. Or a friend. 

Finally, we arrive. Here lies Julia Williams. 

The girl and I sit before the gravestone. I take out the lemonade, and hand the girl a bottle. 

“Cheers?” I ask. 

“Cheers,” She replies. “To Julia.” 

I let out a breath. “To Julia.” 

We knock our bottles together. And, sitting in silence, we drink. 

The moment the taste fills my mouth I’m transported to last year. Suddenly, Julia is beside me. We’re sitting on a park bench when we’re supposed to be in school. Sipping on lemonade. Laughing together. 

But she’s not here. And all I can do is miss her. 

Until the end of today, I remind myself. Then you won’t have to. 

“You okay?” The girl suddenly asks. She’s sitting criss-cross-applesauce beside me, the lemonade clutched in her hands. 

“I’m okay,” I reply. I pause. 

“You know, you remind me of Julia.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” I smile humorlessly. “Maybe you are her.” 

The girl looks away. “I’m not.” 

There’s a moment of silence. Then, the girl speaks. 

“Tell me about her,” She says. 

“Julia? I thought you knew her.” 

“Not well enough.” 

I swallow. “Well. Julia. She loved lemonade,” I let out a sound between a laugh and a choke. “And the color yellow. It was both of our favorite colors. When we met on the first day of fourth grade, she was standing up to a bully, wearing yellow top to bottom, and I knew I had to be friends with her.” 

“She was so kind. She talked all the time about helping people, and improving things, and changing the world,” I let out a breath. “And… now, she can’t do any of that.” 

“I’m sorry.” The girl whispers. 

“No. I should’ve known what she would do.” 

I stare at the gravestone. I wish you were here, Julia. I don’t know what’s worse– the knowledge that she can’t hear me or the hope that she can. I’m going to do what you did. Please forgive me. 

I take a final drink of lemonade. With the empty bottle in my hand, I stand up. 

The girl watches me. “Where are you going?” She asks. 

“Look,” I say. “It was nice meeting you. But it’s time we go our separate ways.” 

Suddenly, the girl stands up too. She reaches for my arm. I stumble back. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

“I know what you’re going to do,” The girl’s eyes are right on mine, gleaming black pearls in the darkness. “And I’m not going to let you.” 

“You don’t get to decide that. W-Why do you even care?” 

I try to move again. This time, the girl is faster. Her hand clamps around my wrist. 

“Because I care about you,” She says. 

“You don’t mean that.” 

“I do,” There are tears in her eyes. “And I want you to stay.” 

A sick, sinking feeling fills my insides. I shake my arm, trying to force the girl off me, but her grip is like iron. “Let me go.” I don’t recognize my own voice. 

“Chloe–” 

“Let me go!” I’m screaming. “Please. I don’t know who you are or why you’re doing this but please. I can’t take it. I’ve tried so hard, I’ve done everything you could possibly do, and I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. I just want it to stop.”
Silence. 

The girl lets go. 

I stumble onto my feet. I turn around, ready to run. 

“Wait,” The girl suddenly says. 

I stare. 

“I haven’t told you who I am yet.” 

She grabs the top of her sheet. Drags it down. Revealing dark hair, pale skin. And– 

Her face. 

When I see it I let out a yelp and scramble away. The girl replaces the sheet to its original place. 

My heart pounds in my ears. This has to be a dream, I think to myself. There’s no way this is real. 

Beneath the veil was my face. 

My face from when I was a child. 

I examine the girl. Her brown eyes, her yellow shoes. Familiarity floods through me and I can’t believe I didn’t realize it before. 

“You’re me,” I whisper. 

“I am.” The girl, me, replies. 

“This can’t be possible.” 

“I don’t fully understand it either.” 

I swallow. My mouth tastes like blood. 

“Do you know?” I whisper. “What happens?” 

“Some of it.” 

“Is it going to happen to you, too?” 

She shrugs. “It’s how fate works,” She says. 

My heart sinks. I think about every wound in my life the world gave me and I gave myself. All pain this child is going to go through. 

“I’m so, so, sorry,” I whisper. 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” The girl’s gaze sinks into mine. “It’s not your fault.” 

At her words, a tear slips down my face. I don’t make it stop. The girl reaches out to hug me, and I cry into her shoulder. 

“Please take care of yourself,” She whispers. “You deserve to.”

“I’m just so tired.” 

She squeezes me tighter, and I realize she’s crying, too. “I know. And I’m so proud of how much you’ve fought.” 

We stay like that for a while. 

Finally, she lets me go. 

“I love you,” She says. She takes a step back. I realize she’s become translucent and fuzzy, as though she’s made of paint and it was smeared. “I have to go.” 

“Wait,” I try to grab her hand, but it goes through. “Stay.” 

“I’m sorry. I can’t.” She looks behind herself. There’s nothing there I can see. 

“Chloe?” She asks. 

“Yeah?” 

“Julia’s waiting for you.” 

The girl turns, and she runs into the distance until she’s gone. 

Either she’s disappeared. Or, she’s somewhere else. 

And I am left. 

I draw out a long breath. I wipe my tears, and I look around. At the empty space. At the gravestone with Julia’s name. 

And then I look up. 

What they don’t tell you about the smoke in this city is that if you squint enough, you can see a sliver of the night sky. And, although it may just be imagination, if you really dare to believe– You can even catch a glimpse of the stars. 

And that is what I am going to do. 

I turn around. I begin to walk. 

“I’ll see you one day, Julia,” I whisper. And I go home.