Phoenix

by Eden Maguire

  She took the gum and slid it into her mouth. “No way,” she insisted. “Those two were still talking way after the first punk threw a punch. Then the big guys joined in, and that’s the point when Nathan got involved. I guess he had something to prove, but in my opinion, he should’ve picked on someone in his own league.”

  “So who did he pick on?” I asked as steadily as I could.

  “Nathan Thorne took a piece of steel pipe from the trunk of his Chevy,” my new star witness told me. “The guy he hit was Brandon Rohr. I swear to God, he laid him out flat.”

  • • •

  Deer Creek drew me back. It was noon. I was feeling a million miles from Phoenix and even further from solving the mystery of how he died. So I went to the place we knew best.

  I played Summer’s songs as I drove, sad songs like “Without You,” “Invisible,” and “Red Sky.” Red sky when I say good-bye, red sky makes me cry forever…Crimson was the color of the clouds over Amos Peak while I waited for Phoenix that last time.

  My life splits into three, and the sections don’t overlap: Before Phoenix, During Phoenix, After Phoenix.

  Before Phoenix—I was a normal kid whose main skill was in the superbendy department. Double-jointed is a bit freaky. It gets you noticed. Plus, it puts you at the top of the gymnastics league for under tens. Gymnastics, ballet, and a tiny budding talent for playing guitar. A major talent for misbehaving after my dad left home.

  During Phoenix—a blur of ecstasy and open air, summer kisses. This beautiful guy loved me. For two and a half months, I held my breath and prayed it would last.

  After Phoenix—I was all pain and emptiness. Another blur, nothing is real. Friends and family try to help, but they can’t. I push them away. The closest I come to being able to describe it for Kim and once for Zoey, because she went through it with Jonas, is the sensation of losing my balance and falling down a dark hole that has no bottom and the sides are so smooth there’s nothing to catch onto.

  After Phoenix I fell and fell into blackness.

  And then I drove out to Foxton and found the Beautiful Dead.

  Today, at Deer Creek, the sky was intense blue and clear. The sun was at its highest point, the granite rocks sparkling pink and gray. I picked some white flowers, stepped down the steep bank, took off my shoes, and held up the light fabric of my white dress as I waded into the clear, cold water. I climbed onto the boulder in the middle of the stream and perched there, my knees drawn up under my chin, my arms clasped around my legs.

  “Hey, Darina,” Phoenix whispered. “You’ve been busy.”

  “Back again?” I turned my head sideways and smiled at him.

  He sat in a glow of white light next to me on our favorite rock, legs dangling over the edge, dark hair lifted back from his face by the breeze. He wore jeans but no shirt or shoes. “I’ve been talking with Hunter and working stuff out.” He sighed. “I still think this whole situation sucks.”

  “Don’t talk about it.” Turning toward him, I knelt up and edged in closer, wrapping my arms around him, feeling the cold smoothness of his skin. The softness of his lips made me melt.

  The creek ran and gurgled, swirled and eddied, the sun beat down.

  Phoenix kissed me for a long time, one hand stroking my face and neck. I ran my fingertips down his back, tracing the angle of his shoulder blade, imagining the small death mark tattoo.

  “What will I do without you?” I whispered at last.

  He leaned away from me, looking at me through half-closed eyes.

  “You know I want to go with you.” I sighed.

  “You can’t. You have to carry on.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “We’ve talked about it. You go on, live your life. I’m always with you.”

  “If we can’t cheat this destiny thing, and I agree we can’t—won’t you take me with you instead?” I would go with Phoenix wherever the Beautiful Dead went when their time was up.

  “You know I can’t. It’s hard. Don’t make it even harder, please.”

  “You won’t take me?”

  He shook his head, taking the soft fabric of my sleeve between his fingers. “I love you with all my heart, Darina. You know how that feels? It’s total, and it’s overwhelming. I’m lost in my love for you.”

  I kissed him and wanted it to last forever.

  After a lifetime, Phoenix pulled away. “I want you to promise that afterward, when I’m gone, you’ll still come here and talk to me.”

  “I promise.” My voice was a sigh, a whisper, a sound like leaves rustling in the breeze.

  “Here, on this rock. You’ll talk to me, and I will hear.”

  “Will I hear you?”

  “If you believe. And if you want to enough.”

  I will hear his voice in the running water, in the wind from the mountains, in the rustle of the grass in the meadows. I’ll remember the low, slow sound of his voice and the soft touch of his lips.

  “Hey,” I said at last, tearing myself away and refocusing. “And I thought my family had problems.”

  “Enough kissing?” he asked.

  “No way.” I leaned in again with a small, tender brush of my lips against his. “But we should talk. I just learned some new information. Do you know Robert Black and Vince Hall?”

  Phoenix thought a while. “Vince hangs out with Oscar Thorne.”

  “Right. Likewise, Robert Black. The gas station cashier identified them, said they were bad news when they showed up that night. I guess the cops interviewed them, along with twenty others.”

  “These two—they would come up with a story and stick to it.”

  “And the other witnesses, the younger kids—they wouldn’t risk stepping on the big guy’s toes?”

  “That’s the way it works,” Phoenix agreed. “Brandon was always totally clear—you don’t mess with drug runners and their gangs.”

  “Which leads me to ask why Brandon lied to the cops,” I said, not fully prepared for Phoenix’s reaction.

  He leaned right away from me and launched himself from the rock, striding through the water toward the far bank then staring up at the mountains. “This is what I meant earlier—the thing gets uglier, the more stones you turn.”

  “It’s true, Brandon did lie,” I insisted, following slowly. “He told them the fight started between you and Nathan.”

  “And?”

  “That’s wrong. I spoke to the girl at the cash desk. She says what happened was that the guy Nathan actually hit was Brandon, and it came much later.”

  Phoenix still stood with his back to me, helplessly shaking his head.

  I went back to my favorite theory emerging out of the witnesses’ accounts. “OK, so is there a strong reason Brandon would want to highlight Nathan’s role? Might he want the cops to pay particular attention because he believes Nathan’s the one?”

  “You’re saying he’s the kid who stabbed me?” For a while Phoenix seemed lost in thought.

  “What’s going on in there?” I asked, running my fingers along his forehead and wishing, not for the first time, that I possessed the mind-reading powers of the Beautiful Dead.

  “I’m thinking that’s really going to make Brandon popular with Oscar—him putting Thorne’s kid brother in the frame.”

  “Only if Oscar finds out what Brandon told the cops,” I pointed out.

  Finally Phoenix turned right around to face me. “Darina, there’s a lot of hidden dynamics here that we don’t get—gang stuff connected with drug deals. Ever since I came to Ellerton, everyone I met says Thorne has been mixed up in that.” Looking deep into my eyes, he made a direct plea. “Take some time, step back a little, huh?”

  Straightaway I hated this idea. “What does Hunter say about it?”

  “What he always says—don’t take any risk that would draw attention to the
Beautiful Dead.”

  “But we need the truth!” I protested. “Am I the only one who sees how fast time is running out?”

  Phoenix took a second to break through my frustration and sift through the whirlwind of suspicions and theories in my head. Then he took my hand and did his best to convince me. “Step back,” he insisted. “Go talk to Jardine, share your new thoughts with him.”

  I saw the soft halo of light gather around him, knew that he was about to leave again. “What about you?” I gasped. “What will you do?”

  “I’ll tell Hunter this is too big for you to deal with alone.”

  Phoenix’s image grew faint. I heard his voice linger after he faded from sight. “Hunter has to keep you safe, I don’t care what it takes.”

  That night and all through the weekend I did my best to put Phoenix’s doubts out of my mind. Hunter can’t stop me now, even if he tried, I told myself, staring up at my bedroom ceiling. Hunter can’t stop me now. It became my mantra as each day the gray dawn light crept into my room.

  Call me paranoid, or maybe it was lack of sleep, but come Monday, as I drove the streets trying to gather my courage and focus on my next move, I felt sure I was being followed by two guys on Harleys.

  They came out of the Honda showroom on the edge of town and tailed me toward the mall, one wearing a red bandana, the other a blue, both wearing silver-rimmed shades and leather vests over white T-shirts.

  I checked out these two Harley stereotypes in my rearview mirror then headed on past the mall. The riders were still a hundred yards behind me, two abreast, so I built a scenario around the probability that it was already too late to step back as Phoenix had suggested.

  Here’s my theory: obviously Oscar Thorne had put two of his guys onto me. They had probably been on my tail for a while, seen me talking to Kyra, paid her a visit after I left, and learned that I was asking awkward questions about the Phoenix killing. They’d reported back to Thorne, who told them to tail me and stick with me.

  Why would Thorne want to have you followed in the first place? I asked myself.

  Because Nathan made a point of telling his big brother that you were spying on him out at the old trailer park. Go figure.

  My pulse raced. It took two seconds flat for me to decide that dealing with me was now at the top of Oscar Thorne’s to-do list and that I had to lose the guys on the Harleys.

  Turning off the street into a McDonald’s parking lot, I wove between cars, around the back of the building into a Blockbuster outlet, and out onto a narrow side street, heading toward Ellerton High.

  Good job! A glance in my mirror told me that I’d succeeded in shaking the guys off. Still, my heart was thudding. I’d lost them, but for how long? Out of sheer habit, I signaled and turned into the school grounds, where I found Christian and Lucas standing by the entrance to the science and technology block.

  “Too bad, Darina—you missed a fascinating lecture on global warming,” Lucas told me in that new, witty way he’d developed lately. “Jordan bought the whole package. She’s busy reducing her carbon footprint as we speak.”

  I leaned out of the car, craving a little normal conversation. “How exactly?”

  Christian pointed across the car park toward Jordan’s bright yellow Beetle. “She ditched the car and walked into town with Hannah and Zoey.”

  “Where they have an instant relapse and start shopping for fashion items made in Asian sweatshops and jetted across continents for sale in air-conditioned malls.” Lucas laughed and moved on swiftly. “Hey, Darina, I hear you ran into Michael Rohr a little while back?”

  “So?” I snapped.

  “Whoa, sorry. I didn’t realize.”

  “What didn’t you realize, Lucas?”

  “That you’d bite my head off if I so much as mentioned the guy’s name.”

  I closed my eyes and took a breath. “No, it’s me. I’m the one who’s sorry. So what about Michael?”

  “Everyone’s talking about it,” Christian told me. “He and Brandon got into a fight.”

  Was that all? I thought that for once the Ellerton gossip machine was slow to catch up. “Yeah, at the Rohrs’ place. I already know that.” I sighed.

  “Another fight,” Christian explained, watching me carefully. “It happened early this morning, outside Zoey’s house.”

  “Wait!” I cried, suddenly paying attention. “What was Brandon doing at the Bishops’ place?”

  “Not Brandon—Michael.” It was Lucas who finally put the pieces together for me. “You know Russell Bishop is Michael’s buddy from way back? Michael called to ask Russell to play a game of golf. When he came out of the house, Brandon was waiting for him. They exchanged insults, and it developed from there.”

  “And Zoey saw it all?”

  “Right.” Christian stepped back in. “She says it was her mom who called the cops.”

  “They called the cops?” I echo-groaned. “As if the family isn’t in enough trouble already.”

  “The cops broke up the fight and hauled Brandon into the sheriff’s office.” Too late Christian realized the reason I was taking the news so badly. “Sorry. The Rohrs—a sensitive issue.”

  “It’s cool. Thanks for telling me. Does anyone know what’s happened to Brandon now?”

  Lucas and Christian shook their heads. “I guess the cops will charge him,” Lucas suggested.

  “Maybe I’ll check it out.” Getting ready to leave, I made a feeble effort to lighten the mood. “Tell Jordan tomorrow is the day I lighten my carbon footprint, OK?” I pressed the gas pedal and swooped around in a wide circle to point toward the exit. “Today I have people I need to see!”

  • • •

  “Sorry, Darina, Zoey isn’t home,” Helena Bishop told me.

  I’d driven straight to the Bishops’ home, knowing for a fact that Zoey was happily shopping in town. I’d parked outside the big gates and walked up the drive, stepped between the white pillars up into the wide marble-tiled porch, and rung the doorbell. “Actually, Mrs. Bishop, I only wanted a small piece of information about Michael Rohr, and I thought maybe you could help.”

  “You heard about the fight earlier?” she said cautiously. “News gets around.”

  “The whole town knows—you know how it is. I was kind of worried about Michael.” I was glad to be talking to Zoey’s mom and not her dad, who always treated me like public enemy number one. “I hope he didn’t get badly hurt.”

  “I understand. Michael is Phoenix’s dad, after all.”

  “Yes. I need to know his address so I can send a card, maybe some flowers.”

  “But he wasn’t seriously injured, you know. The sheriff acted before things got out of hand.”

  “Even so,” I insisted. “A card, telling him I hope he’s OK.”

  Helena Bishop thought about it then decided to humor me. “That’s nice of you, Darina. Wait here while I look up the address in Russell’s address book.”

  While I waited I wondered how come life had lifted Russell Bishop clean over from Michael Rohr’s rough side of the tracks to this land of smooth lawns and white pillars. Then Mrs. Bishop came back and handed me a slip of paper with a handwritten address.

  “Thanks,” I told her. I read the address as I walked down the drive—Apartment 209, Center Point.

  The oldest tower block in town was where I was headed now.

  • • •

  Go talk to Jardine! I heard Phoenix’s voice, sensed his presence in the car beside me, though he didn’t actually materialize.

  “Not right now,” I told him. “I want to find out why your dad argued with your brother again. It might be important.”

  Step back! he warned. Remember what we discussed!

  “I don’t recall any discussion. The way I see it, you gave me some advice, and I’m choosing not to take it.”

  For your
own safety, he reminded me. This Oscar Thorne connection scares the hell out of me, Darina. He already put two guys on your tail.

  “Yeah, and I easily shook them off, didn’t I? Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”

  Why aren’t you listening to me? I’m telling you this is too complicated, too dangerous.

  I sighed as I drove into the center of town. “This is weird. Why are you telling me to stop when we have only four days left?”

  I pulled up outside Center Point, and a wind blew across the parking lot, lifting an empty white plastic bag into the air and whirling it against my windshield. It slid up and over my head, floated heavenward into a pure blue sky.

  “Phoenix, are you still there?”

  I’m always here.

  “Have I got this right? Am I having a fight with my invisible Beautiful Dead boyfriend?”

  Totally.

  “So listen. You can’t make me step back now. Not even Hunter can do that. I’m in this until the end.”

  There was a long silence before he sighed and said, I know, but I’m scared for you. I love you.

  “I love you, too. Phoenix, you have to let me do this for you.”

  Silence again. A blast of cold air, as if Hunter had swept down from Foxton Ridge and pulled Phoenix right out of there.

  Stepping out of the car into the wind, I pulled my jacket across my chest and walked quickly toward the building.

  Rereading the address, apartment 209, I chose the second story, pressed the button, and waited for the elevator door to slide open. Its metal walls were scratched, scrawled, scribbled, and sprayed, its floor speckled with flattened gray blobs of gum. I ascended alone with a nasty smell and a fast-beating heart, stepped out onto a balcony, and followed door numbers 201 and 203 along the corridor until I came to 209.

  I rang the doorbell, rehearsing my introductory sentences as I waited for Michael to answer it. “It’s me again,” I would say. “I need to know what happened to Brandon after the fight you two had. I have to talk to him. It’s important.”

  Michael opened the door into a narrow hallway with a small kitchen on the left and a living room straight ahead. “Darina, come in,” he said before I could speak.