Out (18 page)

David’s voice
rises and falls angrily from Jana’s room, so I’m able to slip into my mine,
lock the door, and run to the balcony, as far away from everybody else in the
house as possible. God, I’ve totally screwed up. He’s not going to go to Indian
Lake with some guy who
kneed
him for a fumbling kiss.
What a screw up. Now what? Do I run away now? Do I wait and see what happens?
Do I jump off the balcony and hope for a severe injury? Nothing sounds
workable. And it’s freezing out here.

 
Voices from below. Pieces of dialogue drift up
on the clear night air: “No problem. Just nerves,” and “Misunderstanding.”
 
What if that groin shot costs me the whole
trip on Friday? The Escalade revs up, spits gravel, pierces the dark with two shining
fingers of light as it rolls down the drive.

Through a crack
in the French door, I listen for a sign that David might be gunning for me
next, having exhausted the amount of shit he could give Jana. All quiet at the
moment. Wait till he hears that I nearly castrated his prime
toadie
. But no, I don’t hear anything. Maybe he killed her.

Cell phone.
It’s on my desk, so I grab it, sprint back outside after grabbing a sweatshirt,
call
Andi
. She answers, and amidst a backdrop of jazz
music and noisy conversation I hear a scratchy “Hello?”

“Oh God. Oh,
God. I am so dead.”

“What happened?”
I hear her moving, rustling through a room full of people talking and laughing.
“Hang on.” A door closes. Quiet. “All right. Now I can talk. What is it? Did
you tell someone?”

“No, no.” I’m
sweating in spite of the temperature. I wedge myself into the corner of the
wooden fence closest to the door, pull my knees up to my chin.
 
“
Andi
?”

“I’m here.”

Deep breath. “I’ve
got to see Carmen. Can you set up a meeting? I can’t call her directly. But
this is really, really important. Can you please do this for me?”

“Chris, you
know I don’t want to be involved in this.” She covers the phone, says something
muffled, then comes back. “Sorry. Okay, look. What do you want?”

“Where are you?”

Pause. “What?
Just over with some friends. I’m in somebody’s bathroom, so I need to get out.”

“
Andi
. I need this. If we’ve ever been friends, do this for
me.”

“That’s a hell
of a demand.” Her voice is tight, edged with fear and anger. I know she doesn’t
want to help me. But she’s the only person I can trust who knows Carmen and
isn’t involved in all of this. It’s got to work.

“I need you to
go to her tonight.”

“Tonight?
Chris, some of us have lives, you know, things going on—” Noise spills in on
her end, then subsides. “I don’t think I—”

“
Andi
. Go to
Lainie’s
. Give Carmen
a message. Just tell her ‘midnight tree.’ She’ll understand. Can you just do
that? Two words,
Andi
? Then I won’t ever ask you to
do anything else. I promise.”

Breath. In,
out, rhythmic breathing…so much in breath, it carries words, music, threats,
promises, hope, hate. “Alright,” she says, her voice small. Then the line goes
dead.

I kiss the
phone, fold it, put in the pocket of my shirt against my heart. Midnight tree.
Okay. I can get through the rest. I can get through David, Warren, everybody
else. If I know I’m going to see her, I can get through it.

I figure I
might as well get the inevitable shit storm over with, so I go looking for
David. Jana’s not in her room, and neither is he. Downstairs, smooth jazz
floats from the library, where golden light spills out into the hallway. I
wonder if Warren’s called him.

“David?” I peek
into the room, where a blood-orange fire glows in the hearth. Very Victorian.
He’s sitting in his brick-colored leather chair, still as death. “Dad?” Palms
sweat, hair stands up. It’s like going to the principal’s office. Except
legally the principal couldn’t really disown you or beat you.

I cross
soundlessly, digging socked feet into thick
Aubusson
carpet, a deer creeping up on a hungry wolf. “Listen, I just wanted to
apologize—”

He throws a
crystal goblet into the fire. Shards of glass scatter, cutting fragments of
light into reflecting ribbons. But he says nothing.

I come closer.
His fingers are clenched, his knuckles white. I guess he heard. “Dad, I didn’t
mean—”

“Do you know
that Jim McFarland is probably going to run the
Anglicant
church some day?” He says this quietly, flatly, without emotion. “He’s going to
be the most important person in North America, even more powerful than the
president in many ways.
 
And you just
kicked him in the balls.”

“I didn’t mean
to!” I kneel on the rug in front of him. Firelight etches distorted patterns on
his face, making it a ghoul’s Mardi Gras mask. “He just…surprised me. That’s
all.”

He laughs, a
bitter, rage-filled sound that promises that I’ll make up for what I’ve done. “Surprised
you. The 17-year-old virgin. Jesus, what did you expect? Did you think he was
interested in you because of your amazing intellect?” He leans forward, places
the goblet carefully on the side table, and gazes at me with a cobra’s black
eyes. “I want to make sure you’re taken care of, Chris. I’m doing this for you.
McFarland is a ticket. I don’t know why he’s so dead set on you—God knows I
have no idea—but he is totally smitten. And sex…it’s just mechanics. If you’re
afraid, I understand, but listen, people have been doing this since humanity
began. It can’t be that difficult.”
 
He
thinks it’s about sex. He actually thinks I’m too shy to even be able to kiss
someone. I stifle a laugh and pretend to cough.

“I know people
your age don’t like the idea of matches. You think it’s archaic, outdated,
barbaric,” he continues, staring into the fire. “Warren and I were a match. We
grew to love each other. That’s what well-connected families do for their
children. This opportunity—well, it’s a miracle, that’s all. I know right now
you can’t appreciate it, but please…trust me. He’s so ambitious, and he’ll make
your life so much better than you could ever make it on your own.”

Here’s where I
could totally screw up. If I can’t convince him, it will all be for nothing,
and I’ll never get away. Think of Carmen. Think of her lips, her eyes, the
bracelet, the night air, the rough tree. Make it count. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’ll
make it up to him. I promise.”

A sharp intake
of breath—he doesn’t expect me to be so accommodating. His body relaxes, and
the pose of attack softens as he leans back into the chair. “Well,” he says
softly. “That’s…good. Very good. Come here.”

I scoot closer
to the chair. He reaches out, strokes my hair. It’s like somebody grabs my
heart and squeezes. Tears flood out, sobs wrack my chest, and I crawl up closer
like a baby looking for comfort. Damn him. I wish I could just purely hate him,
but I can’t.

He gently tilts
my chin toward him and wipes a tear from my face. “No need for crying,” he says
gently. “I know. I know it’s a lot to take it at once. I know you’re young.” He
leans toward me, envelops me in his arms, hugs me to him. “I just want what’s
best for you, that’s all.”

Sobbing, my
breath strangled in my throat, I choke out, “I know.” And I do. And that’s the
hell of it. He thinks he’s doing the right thing, the godly thing, the holy
thing. Killing and torturing people who are different, who love differently,
this is his prayer to his god. He doesn’t see it as evil. He sees it as divine.
And because of this, I cry even more.

I don’t
remember going back to my room, but I must have, and I must have fallen asleep,
because I wake up and the room is dark except for the glow of my clock. Eleven.
An hour till the tree, if
Andi
delivered the message.
Should I call her? No. The less contact, the better. After Friday it won’t
matter.

I change into
fresh clothes, soft, warm sweatpants, a tight black t-shirt and a green flannel
that I can strip off easily. The thought of being with Carmen again heats me
up, makes me rush. I’ll bring a blanket this time, so we don’t have to lie
naked against the tree and the pine needles.

Waiting in the
dark…the sky is crystal clear, with stars peppering the midnight blue. Pulling
on thick socks, I soundlessly open the French doors, move to the telescope.
Through the lens, I pick out some of my favorite constellations:
Cepheus
, Cassiopeia his female Queen, their daughter,
Andromeda. Andromeda was given as a sacrifice by her Perpendicular parents to
the sea god Poseidon because they coupled openly and ruled a kingdom in sin.
That myth never set well with me. How did they get to be the king and queen if
they were outcasts? Why would any loving god of the sea ask for a human
sacrifice? And you never hear what happened after that. They just let some foul
sea monster eat her up, and never fought to save her? After what Mary told us,
I don’t know if anything’s true. Even the gospel truth.

I’m not going
to let anybody get Andromeda this time.

Close enough to
midnight. I pull on old hiking boots, grab the blanket from the foot of my bed,
and head for the tree.

The crunching
of leaves underfoot sounds deafening; noises are always louder when you’re
trying to be quiet. I let my feet feel the way through the field, back toward
the forest, past brushing edges of evergreen branches.

A noise. I stop
still…what if it isn’t her? What if
Andi
didn’t give
her the message? “Chris?” Her voice is barely audible, but enough for me to
find her.

I wrap my arms
around her, cover her with the blanket, ease her down to the ground so we’re in
a secret tent, a world of our own.
 
She
grabs my face and pulls it close to her, kisses me hungrily, greedily, like a
drowning woman savagely fighting for oxygen. I’m drowning too.

When we finally
pause, our eyes are within inches of each other. I flick a flashlight on, point
it from below so it’s like a summer camp sleepover ghost story. “Hey,” I
whisper, excited. “
Andi
told you.”

She nods,
clutches my arm. “She’s worried about you. Why?”

“
Shh
.” I flick the light off, pull her toward me, roll over
so we’re enveloped in blanket and jackets and warmth. “Let’s just lie here for
a little while.” I hold her next to me, her back to my chest, breathe in the
scent of her hair.

“What’s going
on?” She turns toward me, eyes wide. “
Andi’s
really
freaked out.”

“She is?”
Carmen nods. “I don’t care. They’re going to get us out of here. We can go to Canada
together. The plan is set; I’m leaving with McFarland this weekend.”

I expected a
huge hug, kisses, excitement. Instead, Carmen’s eyes go wide with fear. She
picks at her fingers, nervous. “I want to, you know I do. But what if we get
caught? It’s a huge risk. Wouldn’t it be better if we just ran away, on our
own?”

A soft caress
on her cheek, a soft kiss on her dry lips, and I tease a smile from her. “We
talked about this. You can’t back out on me now. I need you. We can’t do this
on our own. Without help, we’d just be two runaways. How much of a chance would
we have?”

“I know,” she
murmurs. “It’s just…such a risk.”

“Once we drive
there, all I have to do is lock myself in the bathroom. Done. Then we go.” It
feels odd to be the brave one.

“But have they
given
you any details? Where do I meet you after that?
Where do you go?”

“Somebody is
supposed to come get me at midnight, at the cabin. I think they’ll have
arranged to pick you up too.”

“But we don’t
know. You’re just trusting them.” She tugs at my flannel shirt, pulls it
urgently off me, pulls my t-shirt off too, then buries her face in my chest. “We
can’t trust anybody.”

“Jana knows
them,” I murmur into her hair. It’s hard to think now, with her face soft
against my skin. She shrugs out of her coat, and with numb, clumsy fingers I
unbutton her blouse. “If we don’t do anything, nothing will ever change.” How
can she be scared now? She was so strong. God, I need her to be strong. Need
her to reassure me. That this is right.

 
“
Mmmmm
.” In this
blanket world of the two of us, artificial warmth and air surround us; the last
time, I didn’t really get to look at her, but now…her lithe body supports
beautiful, perfect breasts cupped in a lacy black bra, and this makes me forget
to breathe for a moment.

“Chris,” she
says, moving so her face is next to mine, blocking the view of her body and
allowing my brain to reengage. “I want to go with you. I’m just not sure this
is the right way. It’s so fast. I’m afraid they’ve made mistakes in the
planning of it.”

She’s right, of
course. Friday is in less than 48 hours. But I can’t wait. I can’t. I can’t go
back to that house, live under that roof, knowing…knowing they don’t really
love me. Waiting to be trapped, again, groped by that pig –

 
“I’m going to do it whether you go or not.”

“What?” Her
terrified eyes well with tears. “You can’t. What if it doesn’t work?”

“What if it
does?”

Silence sits
between us. Sounds of the forest fill in…night birds, gust of wind, creaking of
tree limbs, and far away, the sluggish rush of a nearly frozen brook. I cup her
head in my hand, my fingers threaded through the silk of her hair, and pull her
to me. We fit together so well, two puzzle pieces—arms entwined, legs curling
around each other, her face fitting into the hollow of my neck. All my world is
her scent, her curve, her line of jaw, the contour of her hips as they rise to
meet me.