Within the first ten minutes of walking, it’s clear that I miscalculated. There’s a short path from the parking area to the water, but the ground is uneven and rocky. Micah winds up carrying me on his back half the way, and I can’t decide if I feel like a little kid or a princess.
“What’s your plan, exactly?” Saff turns around to say. Wispy little flyaways have escaped from her ponytail and circle her face.
“We just watch him jump.” I tighten my arms around Micah’s neck and try to hold myself stiffly so that I’m not too heavy for him. He smells clean, with a whiff of vanilla and coconut—probably sunscreen. “Make sure he’s okay. If anything goes wrong, at least we’ll be here.”
“And then after today?” Saff presses. “You going to follow him around the rest of his life? Like a guardian angel?” I can almost feel Micah’s ears perk up. He’s been a trooper about all this, but I’m sure he’s ready for me to cut Axel loose. Nothing like asking your current boyfriend to help you protect your ex.
“No. Just this jump. We planned this one together. I’m a part of it. I was supposed to be up there with him. If something happens during this jump, it’ll be on me.” I rest my chin on Micah’s shoulder. “After this . . . he’s on his own. I think.”
We set up camp near the water’s edge. Fletcher and Saff came prepared, cramming one backpack with a blanket and another one with drinks and snacks. While we’re waiting, Fletch teaches us all a disappearing penny trick so that we can entertain the Minions later. Only no one has a penny, so we use the dried cherries he packed. I pop mine in my mouth when he’s not looking and really make it disappear.
I keep peering up at the ledge above us, but there’s no sign of Axel. After a while, I start to suspect he isn’t going to show. He might have changed his mind.
Micah and I find a shallow area and wade in the water up to our thighs. The rocks poke at my feet and the cool water laps at my legs.
“Maybe your rescue isn’t necessary,” Micah suggests.
“Maybe. But I’m still glad we came.”
“I know.”
He reaches for my hand, and I intertwine my fingers with his. Dad watches us from the shore. Before I knew he was my dad, I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but now it makes me feel strangely self-conscious. Dad turns away. I wonder about the thousands of times he must have had fatherly feelings without my knowledge. And how many times I hurt his feelings without even realizing. I have the urge to hug him, and I decide that I will—I’ll hug him when he drops me off at home tonight.
A handful of high school kids approach, calling to each other and joking around. They storm into the water, splashing and yelling. I recognize a couple of them vaguely.
“You all here to watch the jump?” a thick footballer type asks us.
“The jump?”
“Yeah, this dude’s taking a dare. He’s jumping off Pinnacle Peak backwards.”
“Backwards?” My voice is shrill.
“Yeah.” His eyes spark with excitement. “I’m gonna try to catch it on video and I’ll post it later. I bet I’ll get a thousand hits in a day.”
“Where is he?” Micah asks, shading his eyes and looking upward.
“Betchya he’s up there already.” The footballer type readjusts his cap. “He’s supposed to jump any time now.”
I turn to Micah. “I gotta go up there and stop him.”
“Cayenne.” Micah pulls me away from the footballer and holds both of my hands in his own. “I know you want to end this, but you already tried to talk him out of it. What, do you think you’ll walk up there, remind him that this is dangerous—and he’ll just climb down? With all these people watching? He’s doing this because it’s dangerous. He invited people here because it’s dangerous. All we can do is watch and be ready in case he needs help.”
I know he’s right, but I push away from him and try to haul myself up the mountain path. I’ve only gone a few steps when I hear Axel whooping from above. Something churns inside me.
There’s no way I can get up there in time. The crew of onlookers have all whipped out their phones and are set to record.
Axel’s backed himself up to the edge of the bluff, his posture as perfect as a military sergeant’s. I have no idea how he’ll get enough distance to clear the rocks below.
I yell up to Axel, with everything in my being. I don’t even sound human.
Axel gazes down. I’m not sure if he can see me, but I’m guessing he can. But after a moment he faces backwards, bends his knees, and jumps.
Out and back.
He’s gotten more distance than I’d have thought, but I don’t know if it’s enough. He’s falling fast and hard. What feels timeless when you’re suspended in midair is only a fraction of a moment in real life. I remember that feeling of suspension, of the strange power that comes with choosing to be completely out of control, and for the first time I don’t crave it.
The water swallows him up. His splash is insignificant, and I wonder if that’s a metaphor for his contribution to this world. He’s only focused on his next big rush. Not what he can possibly do with his life.
He’s under for a long time, but I feel nothing. Something shifts inside me. While moments ago I was screaming for his life, now I feel detached from it. He is an idiot. An idiot.
Micah and Fletcher climb on rocks near his entry point, peering into the deep water. “It’s taking too long!” Micah yells to Fletcher. “He should be up by now.”
“Give it another minute,” Fletcher yells back. But Micah’s diving already, near where Axel entered. Fletcher stands on a rock, shading his eyes so that he can see deeper.
Around me, the high schoolers are hooting and aiming their phones toward the sparkling water, like this is the best show on earth. Like they don’t understand that someone’s life could be on the line.
I am sick to my stomach. How is this entertaining to them? How can this possibly be entertaining to anyone?
A head pops up. Axel. Sucking in breaths, eyes blank, as if all he can focus on is the oxygen around him. I hate him. And I hate the part of myself that ever found this fun.
Axel climbs out, dripping and still gasping, the high schoolers whooping and running toward him with their phones pointed. He lifts a thumbs-up and nods in a self-congratulatory way, like he’s accomplished something amazing.
I am flooded with something red and hot. Fury. I barrel over to him. “FUCK YOU, AXEL!” I’ve never been physically aggressive in my life, but all of a sudden I’m pummeling him. He’s so much bigger that he swats me off like a fly, but I don’t care.
“Cayenne!” Saff screams, and it’s the panic in her voice that makes me pause.
I swivel.
Fletch and Dad are dragging Micah out of the water, one under each arm. What the hell—? I rewind my brain. What happened? He dived in to go after Axel, and then moments later Axel’s head popped out. Did Micah never come up himself? How long has he been under?
He’s bleeding from his forehead. There’s a gash. Dripping down the side of his face. Did he, in his rush to help Axel, dive into a rock? His body is limp. Is it limp because he was under too long, or because he hit his head?
Saff’s dialing 911.
I am frozen.
My brain is frozen. My body is frozen. I cannot think or feel. All I can do is watch.
Fletch and Dad are laying Micah out on the sand. Fletcher strips off his wet shirt and holds it to Micah’s head wound. Listening for breath and heartbeats, tipping Micah’s head back like we learned to do in CPR.
I stand, like a freaking Popsicle, and watch.
Before they even start the mouth-to-mouth, Micah’s coughing and puking up water. A warm thought permeates my glitched-out brain. Thank god. He’s not dead.
I lose time.
Everything that happens is a fog.
No clear memory of hiking back to the car. Or the emergency room visit for Micah. Or climbing into bed. I don’t think I’ve spoken. I remember Saff helping me chang
e out of my clothes and into sweats. Kind of tucking me into a bed that’s not my own. Telling me it will be okay.
I wake up in the middle of the night in Micah’s guest room. I wander the house in a trance, finding Saff on the couch and Micah in his own bed. I stand there watching him sleep, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. I can’t believe I pulled Micah into that nightmare. Axel isn’t his problem to fix. He’s not mine either. Because I’m done. Axel’s on his own.
Before I can change my mind, I message Axel, and I tell myself these will be my last words to him. Symbolically, I’m sealing this chapter of my life.
Remember my worst fear?
He must be up too, because he responds quickly. Yes. Losing someone you love.
That almost happened yesterday. Never again. I’m saying goodbye.
I had no control over your boyfriend jumping in, you know.
I know. That’s just it: you can’t control how your actions might affect other people. And even if you could, you shouldn’t be putting yourself in so much danger. I hate you right now, but I still don’t want anything to happen to you. Please stop with all this daredevil crap.
I’m tempted to suggest that he think about some kind of counseling, especially since he doesn’t have the kind of support network of family and friends that I’ve got. I’ve always scoffed about the therapists Tee dragged us to when we were younger, but maybe they did more good than I realized.
I start to type another text, but the longer it gets, the more convinced I am that I can’t offer Axel a solution to his problems. He’s got to be the one to figure this out.
I remember the way Saffron drew a metaphorical line in the sand, saying she could no longer invest her heart in me if I wasn’t going to take care of myself. This is the best I can do. For him and for me.
I delete the draft.
No guarantees, he texts in response to my earlier message.
Well, I hope you’ll think about it.
Right before I power off my phone, one more text rolls through. I’ll try.
✱✱✱
I climb back into bed and pull the covers up to my chin. Before I know it, I’m sinking deep into my mattress, sleep sucking me down. I sense Lorelei hovering. Perhaps it’s the stress of the day, but I have no tolerance for her taunting, tempting ways.
I reject you! I scream in my mind. You tell me the game is over, and yet here you are, refusing to let go. So now I’m saying it—the game is OVER. I’m calling it off on my own terms, so back off. I will handle my gene mutation, I will go to that support group, I will do what I need to do, okay?
Lorelei interlaces her fingers as if she’s holding on to herself.
I don’t accept you lurking at the edge of my reality, dangling my impending death under my nose. I’m done.
Finally. Her lips tilt upward in a tiny smile. You needed me for a long time.
This pisses me off, even though I understand. I needed to feel alive, I needed to know what to push against, I needed to test the limits.
And it’s funny. Because I know I created Lorelei. She’s been a part of my mind, a way to justify my death-defying stunts. Now that I’m no longer clinging to that illusion of control that our rivalry once offered me, maybe I’m outgrowing her.
I have never been out to trap you, Cayenne. I’ve been out to save you.
I nearly laugh. She’s got a freaky sense of humor. Save me? From what?
From yourself.
I slowly digest this idea. Perhaps Lorelei has never been Death, hungry for more. Perhaps I created her to tether myself to my life rather than to torture myself with the fear of losing it. Perhaps she’s been helping me survive, until I could see another way forward.
Chapter 41
Saff and I settle in to watch our final video. We’ve been helping Micah organize his mom’s house by packing her abundance of art supplies and knickknacks into enormous plastic containers—his pre-college gift to Alicia. Now we’re taking a break.
The video image focuses on two little girls swinging in the backyard. The sunlight makes the image hazy at first, but as the camera focuses, I recognize the yard as Alicia’s, and the girls as myself and Saff.
“Doesn’t that look fun?” Mom’s voice comes in, hoarser than before. “You’ve been out there for an hour, and I’ve been watching you from this loveseat on the back porch. You’ve taken turns pushing each other on the swing, twisting the swing and spinning, lying on your tummies to fly like superheroes, and standing on the seat, tilting your heads up to the sky.”
I nudge Saff and point through the window. That same swing still hangs from a tree in Alicia’s yard, rickety and splintered from years in the sun.
“I love you girls so much. It’s a love I cannot put words to. I wouldn’t want to try—no words could do this feeling justice. Watching you play, and laugh, and love each other, this fills my soul in some all-encompassing way that makes me complete.”
Someone has woven our hair into elaborate braids. I vaguely remember Alicia brushing our hair, sitting us in front of her chair, and wrapping strands over strands. I remember thinking that she must like braiding, that maybe a part of her wished for a daughter. Wisps have sprung free, circling our faces, and swaying as we run.
“You may have noticed by this point that there are only six videos, and seven clues. That’s because I decided to combine the last two.” Her voice cracks. “There’s not as much time as I’d hoped, and there’s so much more I wanted to tell you. But I have to put all my remaining energy into the you I see now, not the you of the future.”
My little-girl self cups her hand over her mouth and calls, “Come push us!” Moments later, little-boy Micah dashes forward. I arrange myself on the swing, and Saff climbs on my lap, facing me, and wrapping her legs around my waist. We both hold onto the chains. Micah pushes from behind me, and we sail up high, screeching like happy birds.
“Mostly I’ve found peace in this. Mostly I believe that you’ll be okay. But there are moments that I am so angry. Moments when I feel royally cheated. I’m trying my best to let go of those crappy feelings. They don’t change the situation, they only zap my ability to enjoy the special moments I have left. I don’t know if you have any of those toxic feelings, but if you do, try your best to release them. They do you no good.”
Our little-girl selves are singing as we swing high out of the camera’s reach. Micah shakes his head at us like we’re ridiculous but he loves us anyway.
“All right, I’m just procrastinating. Follow my instructions. Carry this video into the bathroom, girls, and go together. These are your final two gifts.”
Saff and I exchange perplexed looks, but I pick up the laptop and carry it into the bathroom off the enclosed porch.
“Okay. Now set the laptop on the bathroom counter. And look in the mirror, girls.”
Saff clears the counter with one sweep of her arm, sending an assortment of potpourri bags into the sink. I place the laptop there, tilting the screen upward so that we can see it better.
“Take a moment and look at your sister. This is gift six. I give you each other.”
Saff and I meet each other’s eyes in the mirror.
“Treasure this relationship. Don’t let silly differences divide you. Stay strong and stay together.”
Saff smiles with a spark of recognition, like some unconscious part of her has known this all along. The bridge of my nose stings, and her image in the mirror blurs. I think of all her sticky note notes in the journal, and all my responses to her, still hidden away.
“And now turn to your own reflections. For gift seven, I offer you yourself. YOU are someone you can always count on. YOU get to decide what path you take and how you want to live. YOU are your own greatest gift.”
Saff’s eyes shift from mine and move to her own. I linger on her face, watching her gaze at herself in the mirror, her lips vibrating with emotion.
I peel my focus away from Saff and toward myself. I can’t lie to my own reflection. My i
mage contorts, and I realize that tears are blurring my vision. I don’t bother wiping my eyes. Crying has never felt so good. Like someone has released a dam that I’ve been struggling to hold for too long.
“I don’t believe in goodbyes. I, for one, choose to believe that I’ll be watching over you for eternity. That I’ll cry with you and I’ll laugh with you. Speaking of which, I’m going to set the camera down, and just enjoy you. I want to catch every possible moment with you two.” The image jiggles as Mom sets her camera down on a table, lens still angled outward. “Alicia, you ready?” I see the edge of Mom sit down on a chair by the camera, watching us.
A youthful Alicia walks into the frame. She aims a hose at our little-girl selves, her thumb over the spigot, and sprays. We squeal as the water hits us, happy little-girl squeals. We run in circles, both into the stream of liquid and away from it. Water cascades down on us, sparkling in the sunlight.
We open our mouths to catch the water, giggling and coughing, taking turns. We tip our heads back, our hair wet, our soaked clothes molding to our little-girl bodies. The edge of Mom is shaking with laughter, and I’m reminded of what a musical sound that was. The image freezes there, in a moment that captures the water droplets midair.
✱✱✱
I spend that evening compiling all my Minion videos into a montage for Tee. And when I’m done, I tape my own sticky-note responses into Mom’s journal. I center the book on Saff’s pillow before I go to bed. Some of my sticky notes don’t fit quite right and wind up poking out of the journal, but it’s okay. We can always reconfigure this later. For now, I just want Saffron to know how I feel.
Chapter 42
“All right, cooking fanatics!” says our professor, who has introduced herself as “Call-me-Carla.” “You all are in for a treat—both literally and metaphorically.” She pauses for emphasis, a slight smile curving her lips, as though she thinks she’s hilarious but is trying not to show it. “Although I hope you all didn’t sign up for this class thinking it’d be an easy A, ’cause it’s not. It is, however, a wild love affair with food creation.”
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