Authors: Jessi Kirby
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Death & Dying, #Family, #Siblings, #Emotions & Feelings, #General
“Whew, girl,” Bru said. “You talk like you’ve been here your whole life.” He slowed the jeep and veered off onto a tree-lined dirt road. “I can’t promise the universe is gonna tell you what to do with your life up there. But if you can keep quiet and listen close enough, for long enough, it may whisper something you need to hear.” Bru winked at me. “Now hang on. It’s about to get rough.”
He shifted the jeep into a lower gear, and almost immediately the road stood up steep and rutted in front of us. We bounced hard over a big rock in the middle of it, and Ashley and Julia got quiet while Bru concentrated on navigating the so-called road. My eyes took in the silhouettes of trees and shrubs close by, and towering formations of rock all around us in every direction. The sun had yet to wash color into them, but already I was impressed by their sheer size. Nothing was this tall or majestic where I came from.
“Now, the vortex we’re headed to this morning, ladies, is called an upflow vortex, meaning it’s a place where energy flows
out
of the earth,” Bru said over his shoulder. Julia and Ashley leaned forward to listen better, and he raised his voice. “The Native Americans used to come to this kind of vortex when they needed to commune with the Great Spirit, or like Ashley called it, the universe. They believed the energy flowing out of the earth carried their thoughts and questions up to the Great Spirit, and in return it gave them clarity and perspective.”
“We all could use a little of that these days,” Julia said from the back seat.
“True,” Bru agreed. “But they were old hands at the art of meditation. Most of us these days aren’t so good at that. We got too many other things going on, too much noise to listen to. Which is why my favorite thing to do is show people this place for the first time.”
He took his foot off the gas and let the jeep coast to a stop, then pointed up the canyon to a massive rock silhouetted against the indigo sky. “That’s it right there. Carousel Rock. You’ll be a full mile above the valley up there. Enough to give anybody some perspective.” He eased on the gas again, and we went back to bumping up the road.
“So, what do we do when we get up there?” Ashley asked. “Do you, like, chant or burn incense or something?”
I’d kind of been wondering the same thing. Wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d said yes.
“Nope. When we get up there, that’s when I’m gonna leave you ladies to yourselves. You split up—find your own little spot that draws you on the rock and go sit.”
“And then?” Julia questioned.
Bru turned the wheel and shrugged. “And then see what happens. Close your eyes or keep ’em open. Whatever you feel like doing. And then just be still. And listen.” He looked at Ashley in the rearview mirror. “Think you can do that, missy?”
Ashley sat up straight and serious. “Oh, yeah. Totally. I’ve been doing yoga for, like, two months.”
“Good.” He nodded. “Honor?”
“Yep. Helps I didn’t get much sleep last night. I don’t feel like doing much else.”
“All right then,” Bru said. We were quiet as we climbed up the canyon to Carousel Rock, maybe pondering what the universe would have to say to us.
19
“Um, Bru? Is there a place to pee before I go listen to the universe?” Ashley was hopping from one foot to the other while her mom climbed out of the jeep.
“Yep—we got boy trees and girl trees out here.” He pointed across the dirt road at a hillside dotted with cactus and sage brush. “Just don’t get too friendly with the spiky ones. I’ll wait right here for ya.”
“I’ll go with you, honey,” Julia said, and she and Ashley linked arms to go find a couple of girl trees. I got out of the jeep and stretched in the cool morning air.
“You wanna head up first, go right ahead,” Bru said. He pointed to a narrow trail that snaked up the base of the rock. “Just watch your step. And once you’re up there, find your place and sit awhile.” He turned around and checked the ridge behind him, where the deep blue was already fading to light. “Sun should be up in twenty minutes or so.”
“Okay,” I answered, still not sure how this was all supposed to go, really. But it felt good to be up and out in the mountain-fresh air, seeing the sunrise for the second day in a row.
I gave Bru a nod, then set off up the rocky trail, wondering for the hundredth time in the last few days what in the world I was doing. While the rest of the freshmen at ATU were touring campus and bonding with their roommates, I was walking up a mountain, holding out a tiny hope for some answers.
In the weak light it was pretty easy to make my way up the trail and over the base of the red rock that jutted up to the sky. When I got to a point where I had to climb, I wedged my boot in a wide crack and my fingers in another. I pulled myself up onto my knees, right beside a gnarled juniper tree that twisted its way out of the deep red of the rock. Then I breathed in deep and sat down right there, because I knew. If there was any place that felt like I was meant to be, it was this one.
I scanned the sky, hoping to catch another glimpse of a shooting star, but it was already too light. Immediately below me was the wide canyon we’d driven up, the road cutting a thin beige line through the thick blanket of green pines. But between the town and the canyon lay the most stunningly beautiful part of the whole scene. Towers and peaks and mountains of rock, all jagged and weather worn, rose out of the thin mist that covered the valley. They stood wise and silent, layer upon layer of color and time, stacked tall enough to kiss the stars. I’d never seen time stretch back so far like that, and all at once I felt smaller than I ever had. Like a pinprick of light in an infinite purple sky.
Finn would’ve said that was exactly right. That’s what we are. His particular brand of spirituality was always wrapped up in that sky. When our parents died, he didn’t go to church for comfort or answers. He went to the roof instead. And he took me with him. The first time I saw him climbing out his bedroom window I burst into panicked tears, thinking he was running away, leaving me all alone. Minutes later, when we lay there on the roof with a blanket of stars spread over us and our backs pressed into the still-warm shingles, he promised he would never leave me.
And yet here I was. Alone. I didn’t want to be angry with him for that, wanted more than anything to understand, so I closed my eyes against the sky to listen for some little bit of truth or peace. Anything the universe was willing to give. A breeze drifted soft and cool over my face. In the distance, I thought I heard the cry of a hawk. Then I heard something closer. A voice.
“Honor!” It whispered excitedly. “I hope you believe in fate. Because Kyra Kelley is my
cousin
.”
I whipped around to see Ashley behind me, trying desperately to hoist herself up to where I sat. “
What?
What are you talking about?” I hadn’t heard her coming at all.
She stuck her tiny hand out to me. “Pull me up! This is crazy!”
I leaned over and grabbed her hand with both of mine, then dug my heels in and pulled while she pushed, until she popped up onto the rock next to me. She didn’t waste a second. “Okay, I have to say this quick because we’re supposed to be meditating and all,
but
—Bru told me all about the letter and the tickets your brother sent you and your journey to go see Kyra’s last show and everything, and I just know this was meant to be. You
have
to make it there. It’s, like, a pilgrimage or something.”
She paused, the most excited smile on her face, waiting for me to answer, but I didn’t know where to even begin. Ashley took that as a cue to keep going.
“Okay, so here’s the plan—I’ll call her and tell her your whole story and let her know you’re coming to the show, and then I’ll give you her assistant’s number to call when you get there. She can meet you and take you backstage after, which will be amazing, since it’s her last show ever, and then—”
“Wait a sec.” I grabbed one of her hands, hoping it might help her stop talking for a minute. “Why did Bru tell you all that? It wasn’t any of his business—”
“I asked him,” Ashley said simply. “Because you seemed so sad. And so he told me. Which couldn’t be more perfect, and
definitely
isn’t coincidence.” She pointed up at the sky and brought her voice back down to a whisper. “It’s the universe. And it’s saying you’re on the right path.”
I stared at her in the faint morning light, smiling hope right at me as the sun rose golden warm behind the ridge, and I believed her. For some reason I didn’t yet know or understand, I was really supposed to make it to Kyra Kelley. And this random girl was holding the door wide open for me. “You think she’ll
actually
see me? In person?” I managed.
Ashley nodded emphatically. “Yes! I can’t wait to tell her about this. She’s
totally
into this kind of stuff right now.”
Despite what I’d said to Rusty about not being that excited to see Kyra Kelley anymore, the thought of actually meeting her brought back my little fangirl urge to jump up and down and squeal about it. Instead, I grabbed Ashley’s dainty, perfectly manicured hands and said, “Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me. Really. It’s . . .”
“It’s what I do.” Ashley smiled. She gazed thoughtfully out over the valley. “I’m actually kind of good at it—helping people, I mean.”
I leaned my back against the tree and watched as a hot-air balloon rose in slow motion from the valley floor. “Maybe that’s the universe telling
you
something.”
“Maybe so.” She patted my knee. “I’m gonna go sit and see if it says anything else before Bru or my mom comes up here and tells me I need to be quiet.”
I gave her my hand so she could lower herself down the rock, which she did quite gracefully. Once down, she turned to walk away but then paused and looked back up at me. “I’m really sorry about your brother, Honor.”
“Thank you.”
“And . . . for what it’s worth . . . I bet good things will happen for you. That’s how it should work, anyway.”
She turned again, and I watched as she picked her way gingerly down the trail, then disappeared over a little ridge. The sun fell warm on my back and splashed color into the rocks all around so that they bloomed soft and hopeful in the light of a new day. And as I sat there watching, something in me did too.
20
By the time Bru and I rumbled up the dirt driveway to his house, the heat of the day was coming on fast. We’d dropped off Ashley and her mom, washed down the jeep, and gone to breakfast, all before ten o’clock. And now I was anxious to get the Pala fixed up and keep going, all the way to California and Kyra Kelley. Which was a real possibility, thanks to Ashley and the little piece of fate folded up in my pocket. She’d written Kyra’s assistant’s cell number on a stray receipt and assured me she’d be expecting to hear from me soon. I couldn’t wait to tell Celia I thought she was right and show Rusty that maybe I wasn’t crazy after all.
When we came to a stop, I glimpsed him sitting on an overturned bucket next to the Pala’s open hood, beer in hand, and my mood took a nosedive. Ah. It would be that kind of Rusty today. I took my time getting out of the jeep when Bru turned it off, thanked him again for taking me along, then walked begrudgingly over to Rusty.
“Well, don’t you look all refreshed and enlightened this morning,” he said with the exact flat kind of sarcasm I’d been expecting.
“Probably better off than you.” I eyed his beer. “Isn’t it a little early for that?”
He glanced up at me, then took a long drink from the bottle. “Prerequisite for working on cars. Right, Bru?”
“Whatever gets you goin’, I guess.” Bru waved his hands in an I’m-not-getting-into-this surrender as he walked by and went into the house.
I waited for the door to shut behind him before I turned back to Rusty, all sass and smugness. “Doesn’t look like you’re working very hard.”
“That’s ’cuz I’m done.” He set the bottle in the dirt and stood as I walked over to the car. “I got good news and bad news.”
“What’s the good?” I asked, hoping it was that he’d gotten it fixed already, so we could get back on the road as soon as possible.