Authors: Stephanie Kuehn
“You’re right,” she said finally. “I have.”
“Why didn’t you write back when I e-mailed you?”
She leaned to one side and shot me a quizzical look. “How old is he?”
Keith twisted around. I sat a few feet away on a stone bench with my arms folded. The last thing I wanted to do was sit and listen to them talk all day. What I
did
want was to play tennis, but it was Sunday. I couldn’t go until tomorrow.
Keith turned back to Charlie. “He’s ten.”
“He looks older.”
I smiled. This was a common misconception because of my height. People sometimes thought I was twelve or thirteen. I’d even been called a brute.
Keith just shrugged and pushed his bangs from his eyes. Charlie held out her hand and wiggled her fingers until he pulled her to standing. Her shorts were very short, and she had the longest legs I’d ever seen on a girl, like a loping giraffe. The dry grass left imprints across the backs of her thighs like pound signs.
The youngest sister, Phoebe, abandoned her towel and crawled toward me on all fours like a bad dog.
“Drew, Drew, Drew,” she cooed. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
I made a face. Um, no, I didn’t. As far as I knew, we’d never met, and if we had, I prayed for those memories to stay erased.
Phoebe laughed. An ugly sound. In fact, she was kind of an ugly girl. Too-white skin, too-skinny body, with scabs all over her arms and legs. Bug bites, I guessed, but it looked like she was falling apart. Her hair glinted red like Charlie’s but held none of the prettiness. Plus, she wore it pulled back in a ponytail, and a big chunk was missing from the left side. She caught me gawking.
“I fell asleep with gum in my mouth,” she explained.
“Oh.”
“You like to swim?” She had a yellow suit on beneath a pair of cutoff overalls.
“Sure.”
“We can go to Walden Pond if you want. Tons of kids go there.” She made a vague gesture in what I thought was a southward direction.
“Okay,” I said. A pond? Actually I’d never been in anything but a pool. The idea of not knowing how deep the water was unsettled me. But a pond? It couldn’t be that big, could it?
“My dad can bring his canoe out,” Phoebe said.
I frowned. All I knew about my uncle Kirby, I’d picked up from my grandmother. Apparently, he was a disappointment.
“I don’t like boats,” I told Phoebe.
“Why not?”
My face burned. Boats were like cars. Intolerable. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“What grade are you in?” she asked.
“Fifth.”
“I’m going to the middle school next year. I can’t wait.”
“Oh,” I said, because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
She shrugged, leaned over, and whispered in my ear, “Do you know why you’re here?” The sickly sweet wafts of her grape soda filled my nostrils.
“Where?”
“Here. This summer. In Concord. You’ve never come before. Only Keith.”
“My parents made me come.”
Her jaw dropped. “You mean you didn’t want to?”
“No. I want to go home!”
“What? We’re not good enough for you?”
The oldest sister, Anna, who’d said nothing so far, interjected at this point, “Phoebe, don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t tease him. He’s…” Anna ran her eyes over me. She was sixteen, practically a grown-up, with long dark hair and very fine features, like one of Siobhan’s handmade dolls. Anna had authority. In her voice, in the easy way she moved. I stared at her eagerly. I was what?
“He’s not happy,” she finished.
chapter
thirteen
matter
I see Jordan again. Late Friday night. Standing by the covered bridge.
The moon is out, very full, and it’s easy to recognize her short hair and folded arms. But Jordan doesn’t see me. I make sure of that. I cling to the shadows pooling beneath the trees with my heart pounding and my blood pumping.
All of my senses are alive.
I glance skyward. I tell myself to be careful, but I’m lonely. That makes all the difference in the world. It’s not my normal loneliness, either, the kind where I put up all sorts of walls, like cruelty and arrogance and silence. This is a childish ache, a primitive need to be reminded I exist. I don’t like it, but what can I do? I’m human. Sort of. Enough. And hell, I’m a guy. If I don’t take care of certain needs on a regular basis, then these kinds of thoughts are unavoidable.
That’s evolution for you.
The whisper of my feet cutting through the long grass is drowned out by the drone of the current. Jordan doesn’t hear my approach. I am stealthy. I think she’s scared to cross the river, and I don’t blame her. It’s close to midnight. Who knows what’s out there?
“Hey,” I say softly.
She gasps and whirls around. Jordan’s on the trail and I’m still down in the meadow, so for once she doesn’t have to break her neck looking up at me. We’re eye to eye.
Her shoulders relax. “Hey, Win.”
“What are you doing?”
She jerks her head toward the mountain. “I’m trying to get to Eden, but I forgot a flashlight.”
“Oh.” So she intends to go to the party. Friday nights in Eden are a tradition around here. Students sneak out and gather in this secret spot every week so long as the weather’s decent. From what I can tell, this has been going on for generations. For three years running, on alumni weekend, I’ve been approached by hordes of gray-haired, grim-faced former students, and they all have the same question for me. They don’t ask about new classes or old teachers or what college I hope to attend. Instead they lower their voices, fill their eyes with reverence, and point across the river, deep into the woods, while asking, “Do you still go? Do you still go to Paradise?”
Their Paradise of yesterday is what we call Eden today. And I know how badly they want my answer to be yes, so that’s what I say, but in truth I don’t go.
Not to party, anyway.
I glance at Jordan. “You don’t need a flashlight. The moon’s bright enough.”
“Really?”
“Really. But aren’t the woods off-limits?”
“They are,” she says. “That’s not stopping anybody, though.”
“You sure about that?”
Jordan sighs and fiddles with the collar of her shirt, something striped with buttons. We’re actually dressed pretty similarly, now that I think about it. The only difference is she’s got motorcycle boots on, soft black leather, and here I am, slogging around in a pair of old Sauconys.
Her hips shift. “Sure, I’m sure. Come on, Win. Just lead the way, okay?”
“Wait. Did you think I was going up there?”
“You aren’t?”
“No.”
Her dark eyes widen. “Then why are you out here?”
I’m trying to reach the stars.
Now that’s a good question, but I can’t tell her the answer. If I do, I’m screwed. Plus she looks distressed. I doubt she’ll ask for my help again, which I admire, but the thought of her hiking in the dark by herself, ending up with all those drunk assholes who will just try and—
“I’ll take you,” I say before I know what I’m doing, and I regret the words the moment they leave my mouth.
But it’s already too late to take them back.
Jordan nods gratefully, so we head off. Together, we cross the covered bridge and enter the woods, following a well-worn path that takes us straight up the mountainside.
Almost immediately, the night comes alive. Everywhere, in all directions, there’s sound and there’s movement—swooping bats and screeching owls and rustling shadows. As we climb higher, a yawning ravine tumbles down into pure black nothingness and only slants of moonlight pinpricking through the tree branches light the way before us.
The path narrows. We’re forced to walk single file.
Soon it feels like we’ve been out here forever. If I didn’t know better, I’d say hours or days, but the truth would be counted in minutes. Time behaves differently in the wild, I think. Space, too—all of it stretching, evolving into something new, something unheard of. And the farther we get from school, the riper the air swells with a danger I cannot see.
Only feel.
My pulse picks up, a heady rush of despair.
This was not a good idea.
But our feet keep moving.
I
keep us moving, because I can’t stop and think about how I shouldn’t be doing this. How Jordan shouldn’t be out here in the first place. Not alone and not with me. But I can’t change my mind. We’re nearly there.
So I lead.
And she follows.
Up, up, up.
I am like Orpheus returning Eurydice from the underworld.
Except I never once look back.
* * *
We make it. The distant glow of fire-flame leaping and licking up the rocky wall of the hollow signals our arrival, and the dirt trail we’re on dips down into the remote valley that opens onto Eden.
Jordan gasps. She’s never seen the mountain clearing at night. The drama is undeniable. White-green grass sways in the moon glow and music fills the air, something angry, fever-pitched. Students throng near the base of the rock hollow, spread around a massive bonfire, all dancing, touching, flirting, groping. A makeshift bar’s been set up on a level patch of ground, and nearby, a raucous crowd plays strip poker beneath a flaming row of tiki torches. There are even a couple of tents set up in the distance, on the meadow’s far side, but I definitely don’t want to know what’s going on in those.
In fact, I don’t want to be here at all.
I turn to go, to slink back into the night where I belong, but something clamps around my wrist. I nearly leap out of my skin but manage to keep my reflexes in check. When I glance down, I see Jordan’s hand. She’s holding on to me for dear life.
“Thanks for walking me up here,” she whispers. The breeze catches her short bangs and her face scrunches up. She’s got the scowl of a razorbill.
The sooner you let go, the sooner I can leave.
I’m about half a second away from wrenching my arm free when a flashlight beam cuts across my face, blinding me. I throw my other arm up. I can’t see who’s approaching, but then I hear the jeering laughter and it’s so obvious.
Lex.
Something dark scrabbles through my chest. I want to grab him, shake him, but I don’t trust my instincts, so I just watch as he takes a long slug of something from a paper bag and lurches straight for Jordan. He pulls her from me, out into the moonlit clearing, but I don’t feel any sense of relief, because now he’s got his hands all over her waist, her ass, and he’s sticking his tongue down her throat.
My ears roar. A rush of blood. I feel woozy. Is this how it begins? I want to listen to my body, but my mind won’t shut up. Does she like it? I don’t know, but I don’t think so, not by the way she writhes free and shoves Lex in the chest so hard that his flashlight falls to the ground. But then she’s laughing and he’s laughing, too, only her hands shake like autumn leaves and she’s not making eye contact with him. Or me.
Lex continues to drink from his stupid paper bag. “Our junior transfer,” he slurs. “I’m so glad you made it. Best thing in life, new girls. God bless ’em. But tell me your name again. It’s … it’s…”
“Jordan,” she says firmly. “Herrera.”
“Jordan. Lovely Jordan.” Lex swivels in my direction, legs unsteady. I haven’t moved. I’m still hidden in shadows. “And who’s this? Don’t tell me you’ve brought a date.”
“Don’t tell me it’s any of your business,” Jordan says, and Lex’s laugh is like a foghorn. He leans down to nuzzle her again, but Jordan does this deft ducking maneuver and his ass nearly ends up on the ground.
The laugh grows louder. “Never mind, love. Cute as you are in your androgynous sort of way, you certainly aren’t any fun. I almost feel sorry for your guy.”
Jordan’s hands go to her hips. “That’s fine. Win and I are just friends anyway.”
We are?
“Hold up. Did you say
Win
?” All of a sudden Lex is bent over, scrambling to retrieve his flashlight. He grabs it. He shines it directly in my eyes.
“Oh, shit,” he breathes. “It
is
you. What’re you doing here?”
I glower.
Lex pushes hair off his forehead. “You and I, we need to talk.”
“Leave him alone,” Jordan snaps. She’s caught sight of the expression on my face.
“Win,” Lex says, pleading. “I’m serious.”
“I’m serious about leaving him alone.” Jordan positions herself right beneath Lex’s nose, so he’s forced to look at her. “You’re crazy if you think Win wants to talk to you.”
Lex laughs again, only it’s a different sound this time, almost sad, almost pained. “No,
he’s
the crazy one, love. Like a danger to himself and others. Haven’t you figured that out yet? This guy needs some serious—”
I lunge for him. I don’t realize I’m doing it until Jordan steps between us. She grabs on to me, drags me back by the elbow.
“Knock it off,” she growls.
“How’s your tennis game, Win?” Lex calls out, but Jordan flips him off as she marches away, still pulling me with her.
We end up in front of the bar area, which consists of a cooler full of cheap beer and a sticky card table scattered with half-empty bottles of the worst kind of liquor. Sour Apple Pucker. Southern Comfort. That rum that smells like coconuts.
Jordan digs around for two bottles of Coors and offers one to me. My decision’s a no-brainer. If I drink, I’ll just have to puke it up later since alcohol absolutely does not fall within my daily allotted calories and there’s no way I’m fucking up my shot at the state title this year. Despite my God-given talent for endurance, long-distance running hasn’t been my primary sport before now, and I need something good in my life. Something I’ve earned. I shake my head at Jordan. Her lips purse, but she puts the bottle back and twists open her own.
She’s embarrassed for me. We both are. I can tell.
“So, team captain,” she says after a moment, “got any words of inspiration for me tonight?”
Startled, I look right at her. The roaring in my ears quiets. Her chin’s held up, still tough, and her lips are pulled back in a wry smile. Jordan’s teasing, but she’s also offering something. What, I don’t know, but it brings out my own smile, tentative, but far less awkward than usual.