Ice (12 page)

I quickly looked over the words of the old message. It was strange reliving those emotions again. Those old feelings were vague, like shadows, or ghosts. They didn’t totally explain how I felt in the present. It was like I was picking up a diary and reading an entry from several years ago.

It made me think of my very real diary that was in one of those boxes.

I sat my laptop aside, no longer caring that
Charlotte was waiting for a reply. I got down on my hands and knees and reached for one of the boxes. I pulled the cardboard box toward me and scooted away from the bed. I sat on my legs as I unfolded the top. On top of the miscellaneous items was my little green leather bound diary my mother had given me. I remembered the day with a pain in my chest. It hadn’t been a special occasion. My mother just came home from work one day and gave it to me, saying she thought I would like it for some reason.

I opened the old diary and looked at the picture taped on the front flap. It was Charlotte, Marcus, and me with our arms around each other, smiling big for the camera. There was a little magenta party hat cocked on the side of my head. It was taken on my sixteenth birthday.

I looked at the first entry. It was dated two years ago. I couldn’t believe that much time had gone by. The first entry was about Marcus. I hadn’t known him long at that time, but I already knew I liked him more than a friend. I quickly realized I would never win his heart with all the girls around him. Marcus was a popular guy. Every sports club wanted him to join. Every guy was friends with him. Even the teachers liked him. And, of course, the girls liked him. It was sometimes hard to talk to Marcus, especially in the beginning of our friendship, because of all the people around him. There was always somebody walking up to him just as I was. I would then fall back and hide in a corner somewhere waiting for my turn that sometimes would never come.

In my mind I had dubbed him “The Unattainable,” because he was just that for me. Unattainable. I could never be with Marcus. Too many girls already wanted to be with him, and many of them were much prettier than me. They weren’t socially awkward like I was. It seemed like ninety-percent of the time I opened my mouth, someone would hate me for it. Marcus and Charlotte were the only people I hadn’t manag
ed to offend by my awkward way with words.

09/29/10

I still haven’t told the Unattainable how I feel…

I quickly read the rest of the entry and then turned the page.

10/08/10
 

I still have not attained the Unattainable.

I looked down the page, forgetting that I had ever written these entries. I had started writing them all on the same page because many of them were the same one-liners.

11/17/10
 

Still have not attained the Unattainable.

12/19/10
 

Still have not attained the Unattainable.

02/13/11
 

I give up.

I had forgotten how hard it was for me in the beginning of my friendship with Marcus. I had agonized over my feelings everyday. I had wanted him to be something more than just my friend so badly. I finally gave up, though, and decided that I needed to stop trying, because my failed attempts were depressing me. Every time I would want to tell him how I felt, someone would walk up and start talking to him
before I could tell him. I began to hope he would one day tell me he felt the same way, because I was too afraid to make the first move. I was afraid I would be rejected if I ever did get to tell him how I felt.

I closed my diary, once again feeling like those old feelings were nothing but a dream, something that no longer existed, but strangely felt familiar.

I remembered Charlotte waiting on my laptop, so I shoved the box under my bed with my foot while I stuffed my old diary under my pillow. I sat down on my bed beside Kavick’s clothes I had placed there earlier and returned to my laptop. I stared at the old draft and thought a few seconds about if I wanted to send it. For some reason the idea of sending it didn’t feel right, probably because a change had taken place in me at some point.

Suddenly, I heard the little ring that signified I had received an instant message from
Charlotte. I hastily exited the draft, clicking so fast I didn’t see exactly what it was I was clicking, but it made the draf
t
disappear.

Christine?? Are you there?

Yeah
,
I typed quickly
.
The next time you see him, tell Marcus I miss him, too.

OK. He said something about getting e-mails from you, but that it had been a while since your last one. Did you tell him you like him?

No. I just told him about what I’ve been doing in Alaska.

That was the last we talked about Marcus for some time. I think
Charlotte figured it was still a sensitive subject for me.

A week later, over dinner, Justin said that all Doug had been talking about at the lumber yard for a while was how he wished he could enter the Iditarod (sign up for it had begun in October) and how he missed the adventure of mushing. Instead, he was overworked now, and exhausted all the time. Justin felt sorry for him, so to help him forget about the race and maybe lift his spirits a little, Justin decided he would buy him dinner at the diner.

Justin and I met Doug at Maggie’s a couple of nights later. It was crowded and noisy in the little diner that evening, but it didn’t seem to bother Doug any. He seemed in good spirits, wearing a big smile despite the dark circles under his eyes. He looked a little pale, and he definitely looked like he could use a good rest. His dark scruff was the same as before and, despite Justin’s efforts to help Doug forget about racing, he immediately started talking about mushing as soon as we sat down at a table. I quickly tuned it out, though; all I could thin
k about was Kavick, of course. I tried to count how many weeks it had been since I last saw him…I counted two. It felt longer than that, though. I was going crazy with worry. I decided I would search for the address of the O’Connell’s shop as soon as Justin and I got home.

Margaret came up and asked us what we wanted to drink. I ordered hot chocolate. Justin and Doug thought that sounded good, so they ordered the same.

When dinner was finally over and Justin started to pay Margaret at the register, she asked Doug if there was any news on who was responsible for the fire at the Factory. This started a long conversation, so I was lef
t
bored, looking around for something interesting to keep me distracted. I looked behind me at the glass door and saw the unmistakable black and white hair of Kavick. He walked across in front of the diner and stopped jus
t
besid
e
the door, his left side barely in view. My heart instantly started pounding.

I quickly glanced to Doug and Justin; they were still chatting with Margaret. I decided to slip away and talk to Kavick. I pulled my hood over my head and exited the diner. The bell above the door jingled as I left, but Justin and Doug didn’t seem to notice. Kavick noticed me though, as soon as I stepped out. He looked just as surprised to see me as I was him.

“Hey,” I said with a smile that felt strained. For some reason it was hard to wear, probably because I wasn’t really sure how to approach him after how he left.

“Hey,” he returned. His smile was small and uncomfortable, too. “I’m sorry I left so suddenly. And, I’m sorry I haven’t been around. Some stuff came up.” He looked truly remorseful now. “I know that’s a lame excuse. I’ve really wanted to see you
, but…”

“Stuff, I know. It’s fine, really,” I said, waving a hand like it didn’t matter. “Are you okay? What was all that about?”

He looked around in a paranoid way. “Someone was calling for help.”

“Calling?” I asked confused.

He grinned. “Howling,” he said in an even lower volume than before.

“Oh,” I said, suddenly feeling stupid. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“It was too far away for you,” he explained as if he already knew I hadn’t heard it.

“How do you know it wasn’t just another wolf, instead of a…?” I whispered curiously.

“I’ve heard the howl before,” he said, stepping only slightly closer to me. “I knew who it was from. My friend Anana was shot by the hunter. Luckily, she’s alright.”

I remembered him mentioning her before and my mind immediately went back to the day I had wandered into the forest after Big John. Kavick had said the gray wolf that looked so much like John was really his friend.

“Um…I thought you would be a faux fur kind of person,” I said, taking in his appearance. He was wearing a black fur cape like the one he had worn before. He was even wearing faded blue jeans, as well. The only thing that didn’t look like the clothes he left behind were his shoes: the boots he was wearing were black instead of brown.

“I usually am, especially when it comes to wolf fur,” he said with a chuckle. “This is bear fur like the one I left in your room.” He pointed to the fur over his shoulder and added with a proud smile, “I
took down this one all by myself.”

I raised my eyebrows, impressed, since the only time I saw him take on one it ended with him being a bloody mess on the ground. “Kind of a strange pastime.”

He widened his eyes and laughed a little. “That came out wrong. I don’t pick fights with bears in my free time. Sometimes I run into them in the woods. There are more bears than people here, you know. Usually I can get away without it becoming aggressive, but this time,” he pointed to the fur on his shoulders again, “was one time I couldn’t. It charged at me. I’ve only killed bears in self-defense, I swear. I don’t even like hunting.” He crossed his heart with a chuckle. “But, sometimes I do accept meat from some friends who do hunt.”

“Well, my friend Charlotte wou
ld be happy to hear that you didn’t hunt that bear for sport...although, she still probably wouldn’t be happy with you. She’s a member of PETA.”

We shared another laugh and then he said, “The one I left in your room, though, was the fur of a bear my dad took down. He used to wear it a lot.”

Kavick’s voice lost its upbeat tone at those words, and I could see how much it meant to him.

“By the way, when are you going to get your clothes?” I asked, trying to keep him from dwelling on his loss. I know firsthand how easy it is to do. It’s like a black hole that sucks you in.

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll just have to pay you a visit tonight,” he said with a playful grin.

I would have gr
inned in return if we hadn’t been interrupted by Doug. The bell jingled as he stepped out beside me. He smiled at Kavick and said, “Hey, you’re one of the Skarling boys, aren’t you?”

Kavick looked startled by the sudden question, but only for
a
second. “Yes, I am,” he responded calmly.

“Doug Hawkins,” he said, extending his hand to Kavick. Kavic
k
shook it and Doug continued. “I used to run into your dad from time to time.” The smile left Doug’s face, and he now wore a look of sympathy. “I’m awful sorry to hear about what happened to your dad.”

Kavick’s lips twitched up on one side into a sad, tiny smile. “Thank you,” he said in a quiet voice.

Doug folded his arms and said with narrowed eyes, “Now, which one are you? Tom?”

“Kevin,” Kavick responded without hesitation, and it surprised me for a moment. I was so used to calling him Kavick.

Doug then turned to me, the friendly smile from earlier returning to his face. “I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

“We don’t,” Kavick interjected quickly before I could respond. “We only just now met while I was waiting on my brother.” He then motioned his head toward the garage across the street. “My brother works at Stan’s. We were supposed meet up here when he gets off work, which should be any time now.”

I gave Doug an apologetic smile and said, “Sorry. I don’t do well in crowded places. I needed to get away for a little bit.”

Doug told me he understood and then Kavick quickly told us he was going to see what was keeping his brother.

“It was nice meeting you, Kevin,” Doug told him.

“Yeah,” I echoed, trying to keep Kavick’s cover. It seemed crazy that he wouldn’t trust Doug, but Kavick didn’t know him as well as I did. Anyone could be the killer in his eyes, and he didn’t want me to be involved.

“You, too,” Kavick said quickly, barely looking over his shoulder at us as he started across the street. I was a little surprised Doug didn’t say anything about Kavick’s hair as Justin came outside. He apologized for the hold up and we parted ways with Doug.

As Justin pulled out of the diner’s parking lot, I couldn’t help but look for Kavick at the garage across the street. I could see him walking out of the shop with the same young man I had seen with him before. I caugh
t
Kavick glancing at me for a second as we passed. I remembered Molly identifying the young man beside him as Tom, and Kavick telling me th
e
night we met that he was called Tartok in private. His hair was still short and black and his skin was just as white as Kavick’s. He had a black fur cape on, as well. I saw Kavick’s lips barely moving in conversation, and then Tartok looked right at me. For the first time I could see his eye color clearly as the two headed for the sidewalk. It looked like a dark yellow color in the distance; maybe the darkness was just playing tricks with my eyes. I immediately felt uneasy. He didn’t seem happy, at all. His gaze was cold, even. He was practically glaring at me.