Shine

by Lauren Myracle

  God, why would I think that? I put my hand to my stomach, feeling queasy again. Like when Jason was driving too fast down the mountain, and I saw the ground dropping off steeply just feet from the car.

  Okay, focus. Where else might Beef have taken Robert? The woods? His house? Somewhere completely unexpected, like the dump? Beef loved the dump, and I was sure Robert did, too. I had yet to meet a boy, young or old, who didn’t.

  When it came down to it, we had no idea where Beef and Robert were. I had a gut suspicion, but I didn’t want to say it in front of Bailee-Ann. At any rate, we weren’t going to solve anything by standing around with thumbs in our mouths.

  “Jason and I’ll head up into the forest,” I said. “Tommy, you and Bailee-Ann go to Beef’s house. Look everywhere. Call out Robert’s name, call it real loud.”

  Tommy nodded tersely. They headed out.

  I turned to Jason and said, “Let’s go.”

  “Wait!” Dupree called. “What about me? What should I do?”

  I looked over my shoulder, unwilling to waste more time when so much could happen in the blink of an eye. “Um, try calling Beef on his cell, and keep trying. Call anyone you can think of who might have seen him. Other than that, just stay at the store, in case they come back.”

  I fired out Jason’s cell phone number. Dupree hustled to find a napkin and scrawled it down.

  “If you learn anything, call us,” I told him.

  “Where to?” Jason said once we were in the car. He revved the Malibu’s engine. It died, and he twisted the key again. This time, when it caught, he roared out of the parking lot and took a right, which was the way I was pointing.

  I directed him up into Pisgah Forest, past the fish hatchery and past the picnic spots enjoyed by families with young kids. We drove deeper into the forest, the heavy foliage dappling the road with green shadows and pockets of shade.

  Jason left me to my thoughts as we continued up the winding road, and he said nothing about my tap-tapping fingers, which I couldn’t hold still. Maybe he had his own suspicions about where we were heading, or maybe he was using all his mind-power to try and keep the Malibu from stalling out. It wasn’t looking good.

  I stared intently out the open window, pushing my hair back when the wind tossed it about. There were no other cars on the road.

  “Come on, baby,” he said to the Malibu as the speedometer dropped from thirty miles an hour to twenty, to five. The engine chugged. “Come on. Come on.” The motor coughed, burped up steam through the hood, and went dead.

  “You’re kidding,” I said.

  He turned the car off, then on. The engine went rrrr-rrrrrrrrrr. He revved the motor, and the rrrrrr-ing grew louder, but refused to catch.

  “Fuck,” he said.

  “This is not happening,” I said. “This is not happening.” Only it was, so I got out of the car.

  “Are we walking?” Jason said.

  “Have any better ideas?” I replied, starting up the road. My thoughts went to bad places, like how Beef didn’t want Patrick telling him what to do, so he bashed his skull in with a baseball bat. When he didn’t want me talking, he left a warning held down by a slab of bloody tongue. What would he do to silence Robert, who couldn’t keep his mouth shut to save his life?

  The forest was home to all sorts of dangers. Water. Rocks. Places to fall involving both water and rocks.

  Beef’s teaching me how to be a man, Robert had said.

  I’m his best friend.

  We go to Suicide Rock sometimes ’cause of how peaceful it is. I ain’t jumped yet, but I’m gonna. If Beef can do it, so can I.

  I started to jog.

  “Cat, hold up,” Jason called.

  Behind us, I heard the rumble of a motorcycle. It was coming up fast, and us the only ones for miles around. I stopped and held real still. We’d abandoned the Malibu, so we didn’t even have that for cover.

  Jason caught up to me. “You hear that?”

  Of course, I heard it. But the rider was down below us. If Beef and Robert had come up this way, they’d have passed this spot long ago.

  “We need to get off the road,” Jason said.

  “Wait.” I turned around in the road and peered back, shielding my eyes with my hand.

  “Screw this, I’m calling the cops,” Jason said. Then, “Ah, shit. No service. Shit.”

  The motorcycle was almost upon us. Maybe two curves away.

  Jason tugged at me. “Come on. Will you get out of the road before that asshole runs you down?”

  “It’s okay,” I said, because I knew the asshole roaring over the hill. I recognized the sound of his Yamaha. “It’s my brother.”

  When Christian came into view, he was crouched over the handlebars and leaning into the curve. He righted himself as he approached. He skidded to a halt and flipped the visor of his helmet.

  “Jesus, Cat. What the hell? You call the whole world, and you couldn’t call me?” He looked at Jason, who tentatively lifted one hand. Christian turned back, too pissed-off to even ask.

  “You’re my sister, and you’re off on some fool mission, and I had to hear it from Dupree,” he said. “What the fuck?”

  Oh, I thought. And I did feel bad. I’d forbidden myself from seeing Christian as my hero for so long now that I was simply out of practice.

  But he was here now.

  I jogged over, nudging him to let him know I was climbing on. “We’ll be back,” I called to Jason. I wrapped my arms around my brother’s ribs and said, “Get me to Suicide Rock.”

  It wasn’t but four or five miles farther, which was nothing on Christian’s Yamaha. We pulled into the broad area of packed dirt where people parked their cars. There was a lone picnic table where a family might eat their pimiento cheese sandwiches. Next to it was Beef’s black motorcycle.

  “Well, I’ll be dipped,” Christian said.

  I hopped off the bike and started for the swimming hole. Christian loped to catch up with me. He’d taken off his helmet, and his hair was slick with sweat.

  “So what’s the story?” he demanded.

  I gave it to him in shorthand: Beef’s high. He’s got Robert. He’s dangerous.

  “Holy goddamn,” Christian said. He raked his hand through his hair, but he didn’t seem terribly surprised. “And just what do you think you’re gonna do about it?”

  I scowled, because maybe I didn’t know that part.

  The ground was wet and matted with rotted leaves. I stumbled over a root, and he caught me. He held on to my arm and made me stop.

  “You stay here,” he said in a low voice. We were getting close enough that if Beef and Robert were up ahead, they’d be able to hear us. “I’ll check on up ahead, and if I see them, I’ll let you know. Then you go back to that new friend of yours and find a way to get the sheriff, all right?”

  I glared, because no, that was not all right. I twisted out of his grasp.

  The path was slippery with mulch and decay. A couple of empty beer cans littered the pebbled beach. I stopped right at the outskirts of the clearing, but I didn’t spot Beef or Robert. I scanned the murky surface of the swimming hole. Nothing. I glanced at the giant water-soaked log we liked to sit on when we were kids. Nothing.

  I stepped forward in order to get a good look at the cliff face on the other side of the swimming hole. At its base was a thick undergrowth of mountain laurel and rhododendron, which after a couple of yards gave way to ferns and slick green moss. Above that rose sheer gray rock. I grew light-headed as I took in the narrow footholds and crannies used for climbing. Everything was too bright. Too high.

  “Well, hey, there, Cat,” Beef called down, making my heart stop. I craned my neck, and there, at the very top, was Beef. He had Robert in a choke hold, his hand over Robert’s mouth. Robert looked very small and very frightened. And—his skinny legs did look ridiculous jutting out of his too-puffy shorts.

  “Beef,” I said. They were above the jumping rock, standing at the edge of the higher, more t
ucked-back rock the swimming hole was named for. Robert’s eyes were round. Beef’s eyes . . . well, I was too far away to really see. But they didn’t look right.

  “Don’t,” I managed.

  “Don’t what?” Beef said. He grinned and fake pushed Robert over the edge, thrusting him forward and jerking him back. Robert made a noise behind Beef’s hand and struggled to get away.

  “Robert, be still,” I commanded. Struggling could lead to slipping. “Just . . . stay put. I’m coming up.”

  “Hey, fantastic, ” Beef said. “The more, the merrier. Get on up here, Cat.”

  His words came fast. He sounded manic and not like himself.

  I moved fully into the clearing.

  “Cat,” Christian said under his breath, but I kept going, and he was smart enough not to try to stop me. Beef thought I was by myself—at least as far as we knew—and that was good. I didn’t know how it was good, because what was Christian going to do? Ride back down the mountain and fetch the sheriff himself? Nonetheless, the knowledge of Christian’s presence was one thing we had that Beef didn’t.

  I had to cross the swimming hole to get to the climbing side of the mountain, so I kicked off my flip-flops and dog-paddled through the cool green water.

  “Why, look at you,” Beef said when I climbed, dripping, onto the opposite bank. “I can see your titties! Look, Robert! Cat has titties!”

  “Yep, it’s a flippin’ wet T-shirt contest,” I said, my face flaming. I wanted not to care. I knew better than to care, because that’s what Beef was after: power.

  Playing on that, I pouted and said, “Would you let go of Robert’s mouth so he can breathe, please?”

  Beef wasn’t broad-shouldered and imposing like Tommy, but he was strong and quick. He had a wrestler’s ability to twist people into all sorts of positions, and I wanted his hands off Robert. “Seriously, Beef. What’s he going to do, scream?”

  “You gonna scream?” Beef asked Robert. Violently, Robert shook his head. Beef shrugged and removed his hand. “There. You happy now?”

  Robert didn’t reply. He probably thought that Beef was talking to me. But Beef kneed him in the back of his legs, making him cry out and crumple a little.

  “I said, you happy now?” Beef repeated.

  “Beef, quit it,” I said sharply.

  “Cat, I ain’t having fun,” Robert whined. “I want to go home.”

  “‘I wanna go home,’” Beef mocked. “Dude, you sound like a little girl.”

  I started up the face of the rock. The angle made it so that I couldn’t see Beef and Robert anymore, but I could hear them.

  “So, little girl,” Beef said. “Now that Cat’s here, want to tell me again how I’m not a man ’cause of my . . . now, how’d you call it? My faggot ways?”

  The rock was slick, and I lost my footing. The moss coating the surface was spongy in places, almost gelatinous, and when my bare toes squelched into it, I thought of cow tongue. I shuddered, and it gave me just enough adrenaline to shout, “Of course, you’re a man, Beef. Nobody’s ever said you aren’t.”

  “Yeah, and I’m not a little girl,” Robert piped up. Apparently, my phony bravado had kicked his into gear. “You’re the one who kisses boys. That makes you the girl.”

  “Robert?” I said. “Shut. Up.”

  “But he did! You told me so! You told me he kissed Patrick!” I couldn’t see what happened next, but I heard, “Ow!”

  “Beef, please,” I said. “Nobody cares that you and Patrick . . . you know.” I made it to the jumping rock. I hauled myself up and took a breath, leaning forward and resting my hands on my quads. “I mean, God. Patrick’s awesome.”

  “’Cept when he was harping on me,” Beef said, his voice coming from above. “I told him to leave it, but he wouldn’t.”

  I straightened my body. To get to Suicide Rock, I had to climb five or six more yards. You can do it, I told myself. I knew better than to look down, but like an idiot I did anyway. The far away water swayed.

  “He was worse than his own granny, the way he got into my business,” Beef kept going. “Don’t do this. Don’t do that. You’re ruining your future, you worthless sack of shit.”

  “Patrick would never say that,” I said. I found a crevice for my right foot while my fingers fought for a grip. My skin was clammy from sweat and creek water, and there was a good chance I might throw up. Or pass out.

  No, I told myself. Not allowed.

  I steeled myself, and with a grunt, I hiked my forearms over the ledge. My face was within kicking distance of Beef’s feet.

  “Move so I can come up,” I panted.

  “Why? So we can chat some more? I don’t think so.”

  “My muscles are giving out,” I pleaded. “Please?”

  He snorted scornfully, but he stepped back, dragging Robert with him.

  Was it a trap? I had no way of knowing. I couldn’t stay where I was, however, so I heaved my midsection up onto the rock, then one leg, then the other. I scooched on my butt as far back as I could, all the way to where the rock met the damp black soil. It smelled like worms and decay.

  I swallowed and tried to get a hold of myself.

  “You always were afraid of heights,” Beef remarked, as if that made me weak and pitiful. It did, I suppose. When I didn’t respond, he said, “Look at me. Look at me, you stupid bitch!”

  I raised my head. He did have scary eyes.

  “Okay,” he said. “Okay, then. Now that we’re all one happy family, my buddy Patrick’s gonna prove he is a man.” Beef gave Robert a shake. “Ain’t that right?”

  “I’m not Patrick,” Robert cried. “Why’d you call me Patrick?”

  Beef look confused.

  “It’s Robert,” I said. “And I know you don’t want to hurt Robert any more than you wanted to hurt Patrick.” I watched Beef’s face, because I still didn’t know for sure—not 100 percent, absolutely for sure—that he did hurt Patrick.

  His features contorted, and I felt unbearably sad.

  “You didn’t mean to, did you?” I said.

  “It was . . . it was . . .” Agony rippled over his features. “It’s just that he wouldn’t let up and he wouldn’t let up . . .”

  “I know,” I said.

  “And the baseball bat, it was just there.” He looked confused. “I don’t know where it came from, I swear.”

  I kept quiet.

  “I don’t even know how it ended up in my hand,” Beef said. “I think . . . did someone put it there?”

  “No, Beef,” I said.

  “No,” he repeated. He shook his head. “No.”

  I got to my feet, moving slowly.

  “And after, with the gas nozzle . . .”

  “You didn’t want people to know it was you,” I guessed. “You thought making it look like a hate crime would cover it up, since you weren’t like that.” He wasn’t a gay basher was what I meant, but as I thought it through, I realized he was, in a backward sort of way. Maybe he hated the gayness inside of him, and that’s what he was lashing out at. Except also in doing so, he was also lashing out at Patrick, who loved him. And Beef bashed in his skull and strung him up to a gasoline pump.

  “You wished you hadn’t hurt him, so you made it look like it wasn’t you.” I eased closer, sliding my feet along the cold stone. “It was just a big mistake.”

  “Yeah,” Beef said. He gazed at me, and also through me. “A mistake.”

  “You know, I sure wish you’d let Robert go,” I said. “You’re scaring him.”

  “Nuh-uh, I ain’t scared of no homo,” Robert said, confirming that he was indeed the stupidest dang kid on the planet. He twisted in Beef’s grip. “No way, you big, stupid pussy.”

  “Robert . . .” I said, straining to sound casual. “Take it down a notch, okay, sweetie?”

  “And I ain’t your sweetie,” he retorted. He stomped on Beef’s toe. “Now take back what you said about me being a dumb girl. I’m more of a man than you any day.”

&nbs
p; “Can you believe this runt?” Beef said, his melancholy turning back into anger. He muscled Robert forward. “Well, let’s see it, big man. Show me what you got.”

  “He can’t jump from there,” I said. “He’ll never clear the jumping rock.” I couldn’t breathe, knowing that failing to clear the ledge beneath us meant smashing into it instead. He’d end up with a bashed-up skull, just like Patrick.

  Beef shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. It could go either way.” He thwomped Robert on the back, making him step forward to catch his balance. Loose rocks skittered over the edge. “To find out, you gotta go for it. Right, buddy?”

  Beef let go of Robert, who immediately twisted so that he and Beef were belly to belly. He tried to squirm past, but Beef scolded him, saying, “Nuh-uh. Time to man up, buddy.”

  “He doesn’t have room!” I cried. “He’d have to run and leap, and even so, only a fool would try it!”

  “I’ll give you to three,” Beef told Robert. He looked over his shoulder and winked at me. “And then it’s your turn, sweetheart.”

  Dread washed over me. This wasn’t Beef. This was Beef running scared, amped to a place where he was unhinged. Monstrous.

  “One,” Beef said.

  “Never mind, I don’t wanna,” Robert said, trying to worm past Beef again.

  My limbs weren’t working, but I had to make them work. I stepped backward, since what was true for Robert was just as true for me. Without a running start, I’d have no chance.

  “Two,” Beef said, drawing it out.

  Robert, his back to the water, started to cry.

  “Oh, the little baby’s crying,” Beef said. “You’re just a poor little baby, ain’t you?”

  “And you’re a”—Robert was struggling to get the words out, he was gasping and sniveling so much—“just a fucking fraidycat faggot!”

  Oh shit, I said to myself. I saw Beef’s triceps flex as he gripped Robert’s scrawny shoulders, and I ran.

  “Cat, no!” I heard my brother call as I charged across the overhang. He must have come around the swimming hole and hiked to where we were from the other side. He was close, from the sound of it, but not close enough.