1


Ivy


DECEMBER


Over the past seven weeks, Ivy Stewart had slept a total of twelve hours, but she was never tired. She missed sleep and the opportunity to not think, to not dwell, to not worry. Instead, Ivy got fifteen minutes of shut-eye each night and spent the rest of her time trying to devise solutions to an impossible problem.

So far, nothing.

There were definite advantages to her problem--the problem of being an Ever. Ivy didn't get sick. If she got hurt, the next morning (after fifteen minutes of regenerative sleep) she would be fine. Not just fine. She would be the same as the day before. She was also stronger and faster than ever and no longer needed glasses. As an Ever, Ivy had a near-perfect memory, which made homework and studying easy. She'd aced all her homeschool classes.

Still, the downsides were hard to ignore.

Ivy would never change. She'd forever appear to be twelve. While her family and non-Ever friends would grow up and eventually die, Ivy would remain on this Earth. Forever.

Her best friend, Abigail, had offered Ivy a solution, but it came with an unacceptable consequence. If Abigail turned Ivy back into a mortal, Ivy would lose all her memories.

That was not something she was willing to do. Ivy's mom had died four years ago and now existed only in photos, videos, and, most importantly, memories.

Ivy looked at her phone. It was after seven, and she deemed it safe to crawl out of bed. Her father wouldn't be too suspicious. If Ivy were mortal, she'd probably be asleep for two or three more hours.

Downstairs, her dad sat in the kitchen with his laptop and coffee. Immediately, she felt something was wrong, even before her brain could logically put it together. She stood in the doorway, trying to figure it out.

"Good morning. You're up early." Her dad greeted her with a smile, but it slowly transformed into a look of concern. "What's wrong?"

"Where's Biscuit?"

Ivy didn't wait for an answer. Instead, she ran to the family room. Biscuit was elderly by dog standards, maybe seventeen or eighteen. The twenty-pound mutt was a rescue, so Ivy and her dad didn't know his exact age. He used to sleep on Ivy's bed, but in the last few weeks, he'd preferred staying downstairs in the living room. He didn't seem to have the energy to go far.

Biscuit lay motionless on his dog bed, looking peaceful between the Christmas tree and the fireplace. Ivy knew he was gone because Biscuit always raised his head and wagged his tail when she walked into a room.

"Biscuit?" she whispered.

He did not move.

Ivy sank to her knees in front of the lifeless dog. He'd always been part of her life. There were pictures of Ivy and Biscuit in a plastic kiddie pool, sharing ice cream, and on walks with Ivy in a stroller, Biscuit on a leash. Her mom was in some of those pictures too. Now both her mom and Biscuit had left her.

Ivy's hand shook as she placed it on Biscuit's back. He felt the same--not cold, not gone. Please don't die, she wished. Then, suddenly, her chest filled with an icy feeling, like she'd inhaled a breath of arctic air. She knew what was happening and only had a moment to consider her choice.

Ivy loved Biscuit and was not ready to say goodbye. Stay, stay, stay. The decision was made. She leaned forward and released the icy air across Biscuit's snout. She didn't know how to do this, not exactly, but the action felt right. It had to work.

"Oh, Ivy." Her dad approached from behind. She didn't know how long he'd been there. He knelt next to her and ran a hand over the motionless dog. "You were the best boy."

Ivy didn't speak. She kept her eyes on her dog. It felt like hours were ticking by, but it was only seconds before Biscuit let out a breath. The mist swirled from his nostrils and disappeared into the room. Then he jumped up and spun in a tight circle.

"You're okay!"

"I thought . . ." Her dad stared at the energetic mutt. "You gave us a scare, boy."

Biscuit darted across the room and jumped up on the couch, then the armchair, then the ottoman.

Her dad ran a hand over his stubbly chin. "I would have sworn that . . ."

"Let's just be happy Biscuit is okay." Ivy stood, and her dog ran over and jumped up on her. His paws only reached her waist. She rubbed his fuzzy head. If he knew what had happened--how she'd changed him--he certainly seemed excited about it. Dogs don't comprehend what forever means.

"He seems more than okay." Her dad sat on the couch and motioned for Ivy to join him. "Sometimes, a dog or a pet will have one last good day. It happened with my cat, Scooter. For an afternoon, he acted like a kitten again, even though he was nearly blind and had severe arthritis. Soon after, he passed away."

Ivy nodded, knowing what her dad was trying to say. "I get it. This is . . . temporary." Or not.

Ivy had been an Ever for less than two months. She probably shouldn't be spreading immortality to anyone or anything. But spreading problems came easier than solving them.


2


Ronan


Ronan had planned to spend the entire day hidden in his room. His parents had other ideas.

"You cannot skip the family Christmas party," his dad said. Then he walked out, leaving the bedroom door open.

Ronan didn't have anything against his family. They were fine. He just didn't want to answer their questions. And he knew they would have questions.

Maybe if I keep my mouth stuffed with cookies, I won't have to talk to anyone. That was his new plan.

The house hummed with Christmas music and loud conversations. There were only a dozen people, and most were from his mom's side--also known as the psychic side of the family. Just a few months ago, Ronan had thought only his mom, Aunt Britney, and Nana were blessed with the ability to tell the future. In reality, more of them had the skill than didn't. Ronan--unfortunately--was among the haves.

Ronan made his way to the food. He loaded up a small plate with his favorites: mini pigs-in-a-blanket, meatballs, cheese cubes, crackers, pepperoni slices, and one carrot stick, which he shouldn't eat because of his braces, but vegetables are essential. He carried his treats to the couch, planning to eat fast and then return for desserts. He sat beside his sleeping uncle, who had a crumb-covered plate resting on his belly. But before Ronan could pop a meatball into his mouth, someone sang his name.

"Ronan, there you are." It was his aunt Britney. "I've been looking for you."

"Hey, um . . . merry Christmas, Aunt Britney." He bit into the meatball, burning the roof of his mouth.

"A lot has changed since I last saw you." She sweetly brushed a hand against his cheek, then sat in his dad's recliner.

Everything has changed. He swallowed. "I finished my first semester at West Archer Academy," he said, knowing that wasn't what she meant. "I got all As, except in bowling."

"Wonderful!" She clasped her hands together and seemed genuinely impressed, maybe because Ronan had never been on the honor roll before. "And I hear you are also now one of us. A seer."

He nodded. He'd never heard anyone call them seers. His mom always referred to them as psychics.

"That is also wonderful. Your mother says you're gifted. A natural! Much like myself." She put a hand on her chest. Her long nails were painted to look like candy canes.

"Nah. Not really."

"Dude, don't be modest." Seemingly out of nowhere, Ronan's older brother, Dean, catapulted onto the arm of the couch, knocking crackers onto Ronan's lap.

Ronan groaned. He had to get out of here. This would not end well. He'd end up embarrassed or confused--probably both.

"Oh." Aunt Britney bounced her shoulders in excitement. "Tell me more."

"Ronan can get a reading on someone instantly," Dean explained. "Me, I gotta hold on to a person's arm for like thirty seconds before seeing anything. With Roe, he can bump into someone and get a clear vision."

"Well, that does sound like you are gifted," Aunt Britney confirmed.

Ronan shrugged and then shook his head. His visions were clear but rarely made sense. They tended to be confusing and stressful. Sure, a good vision, like something happy, didn't bother him. But the scenes where a person got hurt--or worse--caused him to panic.

"Nowadays I can focus on a vision quickly and accurately, but certainly not when I was so young. That is impressive." Aunt Britney took a sip of a dark liquid from her glass. She sighed as if savoring it.

Ronan decided to take the opportunity to ask Aunt Britney the question he'd already asked his mom and Dean. Neither had given a satisfactory answer.

"How do I stop it?"

She tilted her head. "Stop what?"

"The visions." He didn't necessarily want to stop his abilities altogether. He was looking for a pause option.

Aunt Britney laughed loudly, making everyone in the room turn in their direction. "Why would you want to?"

Because knowing other people's futures makes me miserable. And the one time I could have used this knowledge to help someone, I failed.

He thought of Ivy. He'd known she would fall from the roof, and he'd been unable to stop it. She didn't die like he thought she would. But she didn't live either.

Aunt Britney seemed to be studying Ronan. Then she looked at Dean, who was busy stealing pepperoni off Ronan's plate. She took a deep breath, shook her head, and leaned forward.

"Boys, I don't think you understand what an honor and responsibility it is to be a seer. It's not about performing party tricks."

Dean sat up straighter. "I only did that once. I was just goofing."

"Seers are meant to keep balance in the world."

Ronan raised his eyebrows. He had no idea what their aunt was talking about. His mom had never been very forthcoming with information. Maybe it was because she didn't know. Maybe because she was trying to protect her sons. Ronan had mainly learned from Dean, and Dean barely knew more than him.

"Imagine it this way," Aunt Britney continued. "In the animal kingdom, there needs to be a balance of predator and prey. If there are no lions, the zebra population might grow unchecked. If there are no coyotes, the rabbit population might explode."

"Wait!" Dean said. "Are we the lions or the rabbits?"

Ronan knew, and he didn't like it.

"We are the predators." She nodded once. "We keep the world in check and don't allow it to become overrun."

"Overrun by who?" Dean asked. He sounded more skeptical than confused.

Don't say it. Don't say it.

"Shadow people."

Ronan probably imagined it, but he swore Aunt Britney's voice quivered as she said the words, which didn't make sense. Lions weren't afraid of zebras. Coyotes weren't afraid of rabbits. Why would seers be afraid of shadow people?


3


Abigail


To say Abigail and Betty had history was an understatement. They went back hundreds of years. Abigail, who was born in 1806, met her best friend before the start of the Civil War. Back then, Betty was known as Grace. Both girls were--or had been--Evers. But Grace became mortal again in 1944, and with that change, her memory was erased entirely. Now she was Betty, a bingo-loving, romance-reading, tracksuit-wearing great-grandmother who lived at Pine Grove Assisted Living.

While Betty had zero memory of her life as Grace and couldn't recall any of the Evers, she'd recently gotten to know Abigail again. The deceptively young-looking Abigail had visited several times over the past few months. Still, because of dementia, Betty sometimes became confused. Was Abigail her great-granddaughter? A grandchild of a fellow resident? A Girl Scout who came to read stories?

Today, Betty seemed to know that Abigail was simply a friend. Someone who wanted to spend time with her. They sat together in the main room of Pine Grove. Generic nonpersonalized stockings hung by the fireplace, instrumental Christmas music wafted from the speakers, and the tree twinkled with lights. A few residents decorated cookies at a long table covered in plastic while Abigail and Betty worked on a jigsaw puzzle at a small card table.

"I hate puzzles," Betty complained. "They're rather pointless."

"I agree." They were halfway done with a five-hundred-piece one featuring sleeping puppies and kittens, too far along to quit now.

"We already know what the finished picture will be," Betty continued. "A puzzle should have a mystery. The ending should be unknown."

"You don't have to look at the cover of the box." Abigail reached to turn it over, but Betty playfully slapped her hand.

"No. We'll never finish without--" Betty began coughing. With one hand, she covered her mouth; with the other, she patted her chest. It took a few moments for her to catch her breath again.

"Are you okay?" Abigail handed her a cup of water.

Betty nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Fine. Tell me more of that story you've been working on."

"Where did I leave off?"

"The witch, Este, turned all the children into ghosts who were forced to haunt the earth until the end of time." Betty gave an evil smile and raised one eyebrow--just like Grace used to.

Abigail exaggerated a sigh. "Este is not a witch, and there are no ghosts. But yes, when she saved people, they were sentenced to a life as an Ever. They'd remain the same."

"Until?"

Abigail tilted her head. "Why do you think there's an until?"

"There must be. Nothing is truly forever." Betty tried to push a puzzle piece into a spot. When it didn't fit, she mumbled under her breath.

"You're right. There was an until. One smart girl found a way to undo the curse." Abigail shared their true story as if it were just a fairy tale. "She made a deal. She would give up all her memories--everything and everyone she'd ever known--to become mortal again, to grow up and have a beautiful, full life. Her name was Grace."

"And then?" Betty didn't look up. She continued to search for a home for the puzzle piece in her hand.

"Grace did what she set out to do. She grew up. She had a happily ever after."

"What about the other children? Did they not want the same deal?" Betty asked.

"Most did not know about it," Abigail explained. "They believed forever meant forever."

"How did Grace know?"

"I'm not sure." That secret haunted Abigail. Grace had figured out how to become mortal and hadn't shared the knowledge with her closest friends.

---

Excerpted from Never Thirteen by Stacy McAnulty
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.