Up All Night

by Laura Silverman

  “Throw a net from left corner for better odds to catch a kelpie,” Gracie says.

  “Wait. Really?” I ask and crane back to glance at her. I had no idea, and I’ve spent an unspeakable amount of time creeping on the Creature Capture Reddit.

  “Yep!” Gracie smiles. “Works every time.”

  “Hey, that did work,” Curtis says. “Thanks! No Loch Ness, though.”

  My shoulders slump.

  “What if it’s all a prank?” Emily asks. “Like, the app won’t actually release a Loch Ness ever again. They just want to see how many people they can get out here playing all night long.”

  “They wouldn’t do that,” I say, voice firm.

  I’m sure they wouldn’t. If Creature Capture says there will be Loch Ness monsters, then there will be. The thing I love most about this game is that I can depend on it. There are rules. Creature Capture’s random appearance algorithm is still that—an algorithm. Real life has too many variables, too many unknowns, too many actions that make no sense.

  Curtis leans back and glances at Gracie. “Sorry for the cursing, by the way.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I’m thirteen.”

  Emily laughs. I do too.

  A few minutes later, the lure finishes, and no Loch Ness appears. I check the time and see we’re already nearing two in the morning. Anxiety knots my stomach as I manage to say, “So maybe onto the next lake?”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Emily agrees.

  2:05 a.m.

  I will not say something like an impatient loser. I will not say something like an impatient loser. I will not—

  I basically have to bite my tongue as we pull into the gas station parking lot. Curtis wants a Mountain Dew and Gracie has to pee. I refrain from telling Curtis we packed snacks and drinks so we wouldn’t have to stop at a gas station because I really can’t tell Gracie to hold her biological urge to urinate. Because that would be ridiculous.

  But . . . I do want to tell her that.

  We only have four hours until sunrise, and we’re wasting precious minutes. My fingers clutch my phone tightly as we lock up the car and walk into the fluorescent-lit gas station. Curtis grabs his Mountain Dew and makes small talk with the cashier—within seconds, they’re both laughing. My fingers twist together. Who even is Curtis? How does he make friends with a gas station attendant in the middle of the night when I can barely string a sentence together in front of my classmates?

  I decide to use the restroom, because might as well, and awkwardly stand in silence while Gracie, and then Emily, finish up. As Emily walks out, she says, “Heads up, it’s next-level gross in there.”

  “I’d expect nothing less from a gas station bathroom at two in the morning,” I reply.

  Emily laughs. Her green eyes light up as she again tightens her ponytail. I’m thinking she needs to buy stronger holders. “You want me to grab you anything? I know we’re both itching to get back on the road.”

  My brain freezes because I said something funny, and she laughed, and then she offered to grab me something, which is really nice, even if she asks me to pay her back later, and then she said we’re both itching to get back on the road. She’s itching to get back on the road. Emily Clifton, star soccer player, must be itching to find this Loch Ness just like I am. It’s almost impossible to believe.

  “You like doughnuts?” she asks. My brain must have frozen for too long. “I’m going to get a doughnut. Those glazed ones are hollering my name, and I won’t deny them.”

  “Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Thanks.”

  “Sure thing!”

  The bathroom is indeed next-level gross, but you know, it’s okay.

  3:28 a.m.

  My stomach hurts—both because lake number three is a total bust and because of the two doughnuts, cheese puffs, and Mountain Dew I scarfed and guzzled down respectively. There are two lakes left, and we’re inching quickly toward sunrise. If I do find a Loch Ness, I could keep playing Creature Capture after, find the same creatures I already have, just with stronger powers, and wait for the app to release a new generation of mythicals. But I hope the Loch Ness will be enough for me, will allow me to move on and do normal teenage things like just chilling.

  We zip down the highway. Curtis’s hands stay at the proper ten and two. He always drives like he’s taking the test for his license, adjusting side-view mirrors a millimeter before starting the engine, waiting a full one, two, three Mississippi at stop signs. I might be the shy one, but he’s always been the careful one. When we went to the water park in sixth grade, he insisted on talking to the lifeguard about all the Mega Burst Tycoon! safety measures and watching five other kids slide down before we could get on. I still have a picture of us from that day, dripping wet, mustard from our corn dogs smeared at the corners of our mouths, smiles so wide they made our cheeks hurt.

  I know we’re not little kids anymore. But I miss that. Pure happiness. No self-consciousness. The thought of having that again is euphoric.

  But we won’t have it again. Next year, Curtis will be off hours away at college with his soccer scholarship, and I’ll be here, at a local college, because I was too scared to apply anywhere else.

  As we pull into the lot for Lake Wendy, another car pulls out. Gracie rolls down her window and waves for them to stop, but they zip off into the night. Did they just catch a Loch Ness? Is this, finally, the right spot?

  As we get out of the car, Emily and Curtis elbow each other, laughing over some inside joke. In elementary school, we always had to hand out Valentine’s Day cards to the entire class so no kid got left out. But real life isn’t like that at all. No one in the real world is forcing others to share with the rest of the class.

  “Look at my new avatar!” Gracie says. She skips ahead and tugs Emily’s hand.

  Curtis falls back to me, almost like an afterthought. “Hey.” He shoots me a grin. “How’s it going?” My jaw aches I’m clenching it so tight. I don’t know how to explain what I’m feeling, and I’m scared if I attempt it, I might start crying. Curtis persists. “Abigail Kleinman, what’s going on?”

  I roll my eyes. “My name is not Abigail.”

  “Oh, but it is,” Curtis replies. “I’ve seen the birth certificate.”

  “Traitorous parents.”

  “Aw, I love Beth and Aaron.” We trudge through the woods. It’s a clear-cut, mile-long path to the lake. The trees are growing back their coats after a long winter. Leaves rustle without enthusiasm in the tepid wind. Our flashlights cut through the shadows and guide the way. “Seriously.” Curtis glances at me again. “What’s up?”

  I look down at my screen. Elves and unicorns and even a lone centaur roam the woods. I focus on the centaur. They usually travel in packs, but not this one. I wonder why. If something is wrong with him. My finger hovers over the screen, tempted to catch him, see if there’s something different with him, see if there’s a reason why.

  “Abby,” Curtis prods.

  Emily and Gracie have taken the lead now, far enough ahead to not overhear our conversation. “It’s nothing,” I say. “It’s just—” I put my phone down and glance at Curtis. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you next year.” As predicted, my throat tightens, and my eyes threaten to water.

  Curtis’s gaze softens. He knocks into my shoulder. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you either. You’re my best friend, Abby.”

  “I know. But it’s different.” I swallow hard and return my eyes to the woods in front of us, the real ones, focusing on twigs and leaves as I walk. “You’re going to college on a soccer scholarship. You’ll make friends with a bunch of people on the team, just like you make friends in school. You’ll fit in and have a great time. And I’ll still be here, the same Abby. But with­out Curtis.”

  Without anyone.

  There’s a long stretch of silence. Too long. Twigs cr
unch beneath our feet. Creatures, real-life ones, rustle in the woods.

  “Abby—” Curtis starts, and I expect him to say everything is going to be great, you’re stressing out too much, you’re awesome, but instead he says, “You can make friends. You just have to try.”

  My shoulders tighten. I keep my eyes trained on the forest floor.

  “I feel like you go around thinking people won’t like you, but that’s not true. They just don’t know you. And you’re amazing. If you don’t want to be social, that’s okay. If you’re good on your own, that’s awesome. But if you want friends, then you have to make an effort.”

  The comment stings, hard, and a few tears slide down my cheeks. I pray he can’t see them in the darkness. “You don’t get it.” My voice wobbles. “It’s easy for you. You like the right stuff, and I don’t.”

  “You’re probably right,” Curtis agrees. “It probably is easier for me. But plenty of people like what you like. You have to put yourself out there to find them. I know it’s scary, but you can do it.”

  I don’t respond.

  We keep walking.

  I still don’t respond.

  “You’re mad at me,” Curtis says.

  I shake my head. “No.”

  And I’m not. I’m not mad at Curtis.

  I’m mad at myself. Maybe I’m too different and that’s why I don’t have friends. Or maybe I’m not putting myself out there and that’s why I don’t have friends.

  But the thing is, either way, it’s my fault.

  4:54 a.m.

  There’s no Loch Ness at lake number four. By the time we make it back to the car, we’re all sticky with sweat from the collective two-mile hike, and it’s almost five in the morning. The sun lurks under the horizon, threatening us.

  I want to give up. We’re not going to find a Loch Ness. Everything about this night has gone wrong, and instead of being a cherished memory, it will haunt me for years.

  “Can I sit up front?” Gracie asks. “I’m feeling carsick.”

  “Sure,” I say, grateful not to sit next to Curtis. I think he’s right—about me. About needing to try. Which means I really don’t want to speak to him.

  We don’t talk on the drive to lake number five. We listen to my Prowl playlist. I mixed it last year as a hunting soundtrack. Emily stares out the window. Highway lights flick by. Lake Carlisle sits in a little foothill of mountains, up a long winding road, shrouded by trees. I found a Loch Ness at this same lake last year and lost it. It’s far away and one probably won’t show up to the same place twice, which is why I put it at the end of the route, a last-ditch effort.

  Curtis turns off the highway, and we take back roads up the small mountain. I direct from my phone, my voice the only sound other than the music. Eventually we pull into the alcove lot. Curtis clears his throat as he cuts the engine. We all sit in silence for a long moment until Gracie says, “Come on! Only thirty minutes left! What are you people waiting for?”

  We climb out of the car. The sky is lightening already, the earliest sign of dawn. The lake is beautiful and whisper-quiet. My skin prickles as we walk, feet crunching down the dewy grass. Our screens are quiet as well, not a single creature in sight. It’s by far the largest lake on the list, so we have to walk the full perimeter to activate the area.

  Over halfway through the walk, Gracie stills, and we all stop with her. “What is it?” Curtis asks. “See something?”

  She chews her lip. “Not yet.”

  “C’mon.” Emily nods ahead of us. “Let’s check out the rest.”

  Gracie shakes her head. “The Loch Ness is going to be right here. I know it. I’m going to drop a lure.”

  It doesn’t make sense to stay in the same spot. We’ve got to walk the full perimeter. This is our last chance, and the sun will be up any minute.

  Curtis glances at me, probably catching my unease. “I can stay with—” He yawns, loudly. “—stay with Gracie if you two want to check out the rest.”

  “Great! We’ll drop a lure on the other side,” Emily says, then tugs my hand, and I’m stumbling forward with her. She drops my hand shortly after, but we walk side by side through the damp grass. You have to at least try, Curtis said.

  I glance at Emily. Her eyes are pinned on her screen, her mouth set in a furtive line. She seems nice. She got me a doughnut. Two doughnuts. She hangs out with her kid sister. She likes Creature Capture, at least enough to care about the Loch Ness.

  Am I that scared to try? I used to be good at this. I used to not think about it. I think I could try. I can try.

  “So, you play a lot?” I ask. “Um, Creature Capture. Do you play Creature Capture a lot?” Bonus points to me for making that question way more complicated than necessary.

  “Pretty often! It’s addictive, right? My friends are always complaining that there’s nothing to do, and I’m like look, right here! Literally something to do!” She laughs. “What about you?”

  Ah, yes, well my friends . . . do not exist . . .

  “I like it,” I say. “It’s fun. Curtis plays with me sometimes, but you know, I might stop soon. After I catch a Loch Ness.”

  We’ve made it to the other side of the lake now. I tap my last lure as Emily tilts her head. “Why would you stop?” she asks.

  “Um, you know, it’s kind of embarrassing . . . how much I play . . .”

  She grins. “You saying I should be embarrassed too?”

  “No!” My cheeks flame red. “Of course not. I’m sure you don’t play as much as me.” And you do other stuff, like soccer, and go to parties, and have more friends than a single one you met in elementary school, I think.

  “You sure about that?” Emily raises an eyebrow and shows me her screen. “Level fifty-six.” She pretends to brush dust off her shoulders. “Not bad, huh?”

  Level fifty-six. That’s my level. That’s a serious amount of playing level.

  “Yeah,” I say, a smile edging into my tone. “Not bad.”

  “Look.” Emily leans toward me, eyes conspiratorial, voice lowered. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. No one really cares about you—”

  My stomach drops. Wait? What—

  “—and no one really cares about me, and no one really cares about anyone all that much except for themselves. We’re all too focused being worried about what people think of us to spend time judging others, you know? So, like screw it. Be who you are.”

  No one really cares.

  Huh.

  “That’s, um, weirdly comforting.”

  Emily grins. “I know, right?”

  I’ve spent so much of high school worried what other people will think of me, worried that I’m not like them, but maybe Emily is right. Maybe no one cares that I play Creature Capture or like knitting glow-in-the-dark scarves or think a wild Saturday night involves a Scrabble tournament with my parents. Maybe I should say screw it and just be me. And maybe, maybe then if someone does care, it’ll be in a good way.

  I take a short breath and suck up all my courage. “So. Um.” I dig my foot into the grass. “What are your favorite creatures?”

  Emily’s face lights up. “Oh my god! I went skiing over winter break and caught my first yeti! I’m freaking obsessed with her. She’s the cutest. Here, look.”

  The yeti is the cutest. I show Emily my gold basilisk next, and she shows me her collection of rare fairies as she says, “We should play together sometime!”

  “Yeah!” I say. “I mean, maybe. Like I said, I was going to give up after the Loch Ness . . .”

  “You have fun, right?” Emily asks. “You like the app?”

  I nod.

  “So why would you stop? C’mon. I could use a partner in Creature Capture crime. Don’t let me down, Abby!”

  Her eyes are bright, and my stomach flutters. “Okay, I’ll think about it. Promise.” I pause. “A
ctually, yes. Definitely yes. I’m in.”

  “OH MY GOD A FUCKING LOCH NESS!” Gracie screeches.

  “Language!” Emily shouts.

  But then what Gracie said hits us, and then Emily and I are racing back around the lake to Gracie and Curtis, and Gracie is screaming, “I’M FUCKING THIRTEEN!” as she messes with her screen, and Curtis is hopping from foot to foot and shouting, “LOCKING DOWN THE LOCH NESS, COME ON NOW!”

  And then Emily and I are with them, and I look at my screen, and there it is, magnificent and massive in the water. Absolutely perfect. I want this so bad. Even though I know better, I start throwing nets with too much fervor. Slow down. Okay, use some berries to make the Loch Ness happy and easier to catch. Focus on the throw. I can do this. I aim carefully, and the net flies over the creature. He struggles, back and forth, back and forth. Stay. Just stay. And—

  “I CAUGHT ONE!” I scream.

  “ME TOO!” Curtis screams.

  And then we’ve all caught one, and we’re jumping up and down and cheering, and it’s such an incredible feeling. I did it. I caught a Loch Ness. I go to my index, and there it is. Complete. I screenshot it for posterity. Then I tap over to my Loch Ness and feed him extra berries just because I’m so happy to see him.

  “So,” Emily says to me a bit later. We’re sitting around the lake now, watching the sunrise, warm colors streaking across the water. “Are we hunting next week? I need my own gold basilisk.”

  “I want a gold basilisk!” Curtis says.

  “Hmm.” I tilt my head. “Did we invite you?”

  He smiles, a smile as wide as our day at the water park. “No, you did not.”

  Shark Bait

  by Tiffany D. Jackson

  My mother’s pain is beautiful. You can see it in the stitching of her Hermès bag, the gold in her Prada sunglasses, the way the sun sparkles off her new diamond tennis bracelet on Katama Beach. One would say Dad’s adultery is the best mistake that could have ever happened to us. Royalty could never be shadowed by scandal.