Dark Secrets

by A. M. Hudson

  “Feel what?”

  “That…the energy?”

  He shook his head once, pursing his lips. “Nope.”

  “You big, fat liar!”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “Yes—” I got to my knees, “—you are.”

  “Look, even if I knew what you were talking about, that does not mean I felt it.” He sighed heavily and threw his sandwich into the basket, then sat back against the rock, folding his arms.

  “Well, what was that? What was I feeling?”

  “Love?”

  I dropped the sandwich to the rug. “David!”

  “I don’t know, Ara. What am I, a scientist?”

  “You do know.” I looked over at the picnic basket. “Did you drug those grapes?”

  David laughed. “Ara? Why would I do—”

  “Then what was that?” I cut in. “It didn’t feel natural, and I know you know something about it. I saw how you looked at me.” I pointed at him; he shook his head, smiling down at his folded arms. “You felt it, too. I know you did. Now tell me what it was.”

  “I’m not going to fight with you,” he said calmly.

  “I’m not fighting.”

  “Then drop it.”

  “No. Don’t you think if I felt a—a gravitational pull toward you, like my soul just split in two and then was suddenly—” I scrunched an imaginary piece of paper between my palms, “—forced back together, that if you felt it, too, or if you know why I felt it, you should tell me?”

  “Gravitational pull?” His brow rose; he leaned forward a little, resting his forearm over his knee.

  “Why do you do that?”

  “What?”

  “Make me feel silly—make me think I feel things you don’t.”

  After rubbing his forehead viciously, he swept a hand through his hair and sat back against the rock again. “Can we drop this? Please?”

  I looked down at the ant-covered bread in front of me, blinking back tears.

  “Ara.” His voice commanded I look at him; I shook my head. “Ara, please. Look at me.”

  “Why?”

  “Please?”

  Reluctantly, I rolled my face upward.

  His golden smile warmed. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” He reached out to me. “You know how I feel about you.”

  “But I don’t know if you felt what I just felt.” I nodded to the place on the rug where we’d been sitting during the…moment. “If you didn’t feel it too…what does that mean?”

  “What that was has nothing to do with how I—” His fists clenched in obvious frustration. “You are one of the most stubborn damn girls I’ve ever met.” He looked right into me. “Do you know that?”

  I bit my lip.

  “And do you know what else, Ara?” He appeared in front of me, tilting my chin upward.

  “What?”

  “It’s also one of the most charming things about you.” I caught the gleaming in David’s eye, committing it to memory. “No more tears, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  He tugged my hand until I came to sit beside him against the rock, and I nestled the crown of my head under his chin, placing my hand over the cotton shirt that barely contained the coolness of his skin underneath. I was sure he was getting colder.

  “Ara?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  His strong arms squeezed me closer for a second. “We’ll talk about things another time, all right?”

  I nodded.

  As the day rolled on, David asked me a lot about home—about my mum and Mike, and didn’t back down until I answered every question. But I found that, somehow, when I spoke to him about home, the good memories, I could do it without wanting to cry. It was like he formed an invisible, remedial barrier around me. I could just be with him, and that was nice. I rested my head in his lap, letting the tickle of sweat roll down my spine under the hot summer sun and soak into my green cotton dress, while David gently stroked my hair, pointing out odd clouds.

  “I don’t know.” He squinted, shadowing his brow. “I think it looks more like a bee.”

  “No way,” I scoffed, outlining the cloud with my fingertip. “See? Long tail, giant wings. It’s a dragon.”

  “Okay, you’re right. It’s a bee.” David chuckled.

  I slapped his arm playfully.

  “Ouch.” He rubbed his chest.

  “What are you doing?” I laughed. “I hit you in the arm.”

  “Yeah, but it hurt here.”

  Aw, so sweet. “Then, where would it hurt if I damaged your heart?” I asked in a light, joking tone.

  His eyes darkened, the smile fading. “The soul.”

  “Um—” I cleared my throat, looking away from his eyes. “So, what’s out on that island? Anything interesting?”

  “I could show you, if you like.”

  “Okay. But won’t we get wet?”

  David looked down at the tops of my thighs, just covered by the rim of my green dress, and smiled. “You won’t.”

  “Well, maybe we’ll leave it for today. There’s always tomorrow, right?” I rolled onto my knees and sat with my face right in front of David’s, the tips of our noses just off touching. We both took a long, shaky breath, and the sweet scent of honey came back on my lips, making my mouth water. His hand slowly came up, taking hold of me, steering my face toward his. But he stopped—held me there, my lips tingling just in front of his, and softly ran his thumb over them.

  “David?”

  He closed his eyes tightly. “Please don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  He didn’t answer—just sat there, taking shallow breaths. I focused on his mouth, moving slowly forward, closing my eyes, holding my breath.

  “It’s getting late,” he said, and a cold rush separated us.

  My eyes opened to the ugly black face of the rock he’d been leaning against. I turned around to watch him walking off, running a hand through his hair. “David?”

  “You know, you’re right.” He stopped about ten paces away. “We can go out to the island another day. I think I remember something about a History assignment being due,” his voice rose in question.

  The breath I’d been holding made a huge lump in my throat. “It can wait.”

  “No—” He shook his head, coming over to pack the picnic basket. “It can’t.”

  I flopped onto my back with a huff. In the corner of my mind, my silly fantasy continued—David and I, all hands and lips, floating along the rest of the day in each other’s arms. But reality shut the door on that world; opening another to the mountain of pending homework I faced instead.

  With a sigh, I stood up and folded the picnic rug. “Here, you wanna stash this back in your rock crevice?”

  He stepped away, shaking his head. “This is your secret place now too, Ara. I’ll show you where to hide it.”

  I hugged the blanket and smiled. “You mean our secret place.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Everything had been set out properly; my pencils neatly lined up beside a notepad, my laptop centred, and even a glass of water for hydration. But after surfing the Net for two hours, the only thing I’d accomplished was a mental list of reasons David wouldn’t kiss me.

  Outside, the hills to the east grew dark, and the summer sun settled red on a cloudless sky, turning the tops of the maple trees golden pink. It wasn’t until my eyes burned, looking back at the white glow of my computer screen that I realised my attention had been on the distant horizon longer than I thought. It was almost too dark in my room to see now.

  I tapped my pencil on the desk, trying to focus, but every time I tried to commit to an idea, the burn of kiss-rejection stole my concentration, forcing me to worry about why David jumped away from me so quick. All I wanted was to do normal things with him like, you know, holding hands, going to a movie or snuggling up on the couch—kissing when my parents weren’t in the room. But we were in the middle of nowhere today, and he still wouldn’t kiss me.

  I gro
aned at myself, and despite the sticky heat sneaking in through my window, gluing itself to my brow and neck, I lifted the feather quilt on my bed and slid my feet under it, rolling onto my side as I drew it up over my shoulders. Maybe if I could fall asleep until Vicki called me for dinner, I wouldn’t have to think about David.

  I flicked the lamp out and snuggled down, breathing the fruity scent of my sheets. That was the hardest thing about moving; how different things smelled—like the towels and my shirts as I pulled them over my head. Vicki’s clean laundry had a vibrant, peachy smell, whereas my mum’s was a milky, powdery scent—a bit like Mike, since our mums always bought the same laundry detergent. But peach was kind of comforting to me now; it meant I was in bed, away from the world, away from my troubles. I lay perfectly still, listening for the crickets’ closing act, but the air was so thick and dense with heat even the bugs had taken the back road to anywhere but here.

  The sun completely disappeared then, leaving the heat behind, and when the soft breeze picked up outside, I closed my eyes and imagined it was the sound of the ocean. When I opened them again, Mike smiled down at me from the photo I’d tacked on my bedside wall. I yanked it downward and touched my fingers to his bright, cheeky smile. In so many ways, every guy I met, every smile that made my heart flutter, had been measured up to Mike’s; it was always the first thing I noticed about a guy, always the deal breaker. The only place I got to see Mike’s smile now, though, was in my dreams or in a picture taken long ago.

  I kissed the photo and pressed my thumb to it against the wall. “G’night, Mike.”

  I didn’t even have a photo of David to sit and fantasise over. All I had were a few faded images in my mind. But it was better than nothing, and more than enough to cast him in my fantasies each night. I closed my eyes and wandered away to my happy place, seeing David by the lake, strumming my guitar. He smiled back at me, then looked away again.

  “The words have changed.” I sat on the ground beside him, my legs crossed.

  “No, they haven’t.”

  “They have. That song was about love before.”

  “And what is it about now?” he asked.

  “I think…” I frowned, listening to him sing the words. “Death?”

  His lips tugged on the corners, showing his dimples. “That’s what it was always about.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I did. You just couldn’t hear it,” he said and leaned closer, plucking the same string over and over again, the horrid repetition of a single note making my ears ring. “Listen now.”

  “But that’s not a song.”

  “Then you’re not listening.” He played louder; I covered my ears.

  “David. I don’t get it. I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

  “Death, Ara. It’s about death.” He appeared in front of my face, his nose touching mine. “Can you handle death?”

  “Whose death?”

  “Theirs.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “Answer me.” He grabbed my arms, the high note he was playing before ringing as the shadows closed in around us, making the ledge of his brow dark, menacing. “Answer me!”

  “No!” I sat bolt upright, still feeling his hands on my arms, while the screeching of that single note, which suddenly gained a tone, became the ring of the phone. I jumped out of bed and grabbed it. “Hello?”

  “Hey, kid, did I wake you?”

  “Mike? Um—I uh, no, I was just daydreaming. What’re you doing up?” I looked at my clock. “Isn’t it, like, before six in the morning over there?”

  “Yeah, I was in bed, but I was just layin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout ya.” I could hear the grin behind his tone.

  “Me? Why?” I sat at my desk.

  “Interview’s booked now—for next Monday. Thought I might start planning my trip.”

  “When do you think you’ll be coming?”

  He took a long breath. “I was thinking I should fly out that night?”

  “Really?” Elation made my voice high. “That’s fine with me. I’d be happy if you came now.” I flipped open my laptop, clicked on my calendar, then iTunes.

  “You miss me that much, huh?” He sounded surprised.

  “Mike, I’ve never, ever had to live without you before. You’re like my security blanket. I miss hanging out, you know, just being—normal.”

  “Great. I’m a blanky.” He laughed. “What about David? He still in the picture?” His light tone concealed a spearhead—something only I would notice.

  “Argh. I just. Don’t. Know, Mike. You know, he told me he loves me?” I whined. “But—”

  “After a week?” Mike’s voice cracked.

  “Yes. Well, it’s not a week for him, remember? He’s had around a month to think about it. But, you know, it’s funny ‘cause I kinda fell in love with him, too, like, the day I saw him.” It was hard to admit that—especially to Mike. I knew he couldn’t comprehend love, and I never wanted to hear the word infatuation.

  “So what’s the problem, then? Are you being a commitment-phobe again?” He sighed, sounding bored.

  “No, it’s the opposite, actually. He hasn’t kissed me yet.”

  Mike laughed. I could almost see him tilting his head forward, scratching his brow. “How long have you been official?”

  “Well, how long were you and Bec official before you guys did more than just kiss?”

  “That’s different. I’m an adult and you’re a kid. Did you ever think that that might be his problem? You being under eighteen?” Mike concluded. “How old is this guy, anyway?”

  “He’s a little older.” I brushed over that one. “And yes, I did consider the fact that we’re not technically adults.” Well I wasn’t, but David was. “But we are at the legal age of consent here, and he’s a hot-blooded male—and there have been opportunities. I just don’t get it. A kiss can’t hurt, right?”

  “Unless you’re a hot-blooded male, Ara,” he said dryly. “A kiss can make you want a lot more, and maybe he just has—” he paused for a second, “—self-knowledge? He might think he won’t wanna stop if you were to ask him to go further. And maybe he’s afraid if he did have the willpower to stop, it might hurt your feelings.” His voice dropped on the end.

  “That could have something to do with it. But it makes me feel—” I knew the word, but didn’t want to admit it.

  “Undesirable?”

  “Yes,” I muttered.

  He laughed—a loud, full bellow.

  The tightness in my stomach spread to my teeth. “Mike. Stop it. Don’t laugh at me, you know I hate that!”

  He stopped instantly. “I’m sorry, Ara, it’s just that…I’ve always thought you were cute. I’m not stupid, I have eyes, and I promise, you are not undesirable.”

  “Mike, you can’t say that. You’re my friend.”

  “Yes, I’m your friend, which means I can say that.”

  I typed pick up Mike on Tuesday in my desktop calendar then went back to iTunes.

  “What’re you doing?” Mike asked, sensing my absence, I guess.

  “Downloading a song.” I clicked on search.

  “A legal download, I hope,” he muttered in his stern ‘cop’ voice.

  “Yes,” I hissed, rolling my eyes.

  “What song?”

  “It’s by this band called Live. You know them, right?”

  “Yeah,” Mike scoffed. “Why would you be listening to them, though? It’s a little old for you, isn’t it?”

  “Mike, I’m three years your junior. If it’s old for me, it’s old for you.”

  Overcome started downloading so I looked up the song David said reminds him of me—the one by Muse. I just had to hear it again. My playlist of David was getting very long.

  “So, what song then?” Mike asked after a moment.

  “Oh, um, the Live one?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Overcome.”

  “Where’d you hear that one?”
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  “David likes it. He played it today on his iPhone. Why?”

  “You know me, baby; I judge how you’re feeling by your playlist. Don’t you think that song’s a little…?”

  “What, depressing?”

  “Maybe,” he said reluctantly.

  “Mike. Are you worried that I’m suici—”

  “No. Ara. Please don’t think that. I just—you normally listen to such happy music. I just thought—”

  “Really, I’m fine.” Just tired of people thinking I’m depressed. “I know Vicki and Dad think I’m suicidal and, to be honest, if you all don’t leave me alone, I might have to do something rash just to get you off my back. So, shut it! Okay? I’m fine.”

  The line went dead silent. He should’ve been used to my outbursts, but I guess, with all the miles between us, it was harder to just brush it off like normal. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Good. ‘Cause I’m okay. I have David. My life is about him now. Look—” I exhaled and softened my tone. “I love you, Mike. I know you’re just worried. But it’s really an insult to my character that everyone keeps watching me all the time for the wrong move. I live with a former psychiatrist, for God’s sake. I’ll go crazy soon.” I took a breath and the smell of Vicki’s cooking filled my nostrils. “I need to feel free to make mistakes or listen to depressing music, and I need you to be with me on that.” It was supposed to be an attempt at reason, but unfortunately for Mike, he’d just become victim to two months’ worth of saved-up ranting. “Mike?” His quiet breath revealed his presence. “Mike?”

  “You’re not a little girl anymore, Ara,” he concluded softly. “What’s happened these last few months has…well, it’s changed you. A lot. You’ve really had to grow up and…I’m sorry for that.” I rested my hand over my belly button to quiet the flutters his words formed there. “But I’m also really proud of you. I just need to see you again—make sure you’re still my girl.”

  “I’ll always be your girl, Mike. You’re my best friend.”

  “But you have David now. You won’t be needing me for much longer.”

  “Don’t say things like that, Mike.”

  “Why? You know it’s true. But it’s okay,” he assured himself. “It’ll just be an adjustment, that’s all—not having you all to myself whenever I wanna talk to you.”