by Jamie Ayres
“Hey, you okay?” Nate asked.
I just stood there, eyes glazed.
He wrapped his lumberjack styled flannel around me, then guided me to the water’s edge. My feet sunk into the grass as we walked through the woods together, the moon, full and yellow, lighting our path. Eventually we were back at the log benches and he sat me down, dried my feet with a towel, then put my socks and shoes back on. He handed me a thermos and ordered me to drink. Thankfully there was coffee inside.
So many thoughts of Conner raced through my head. I wished he was there to celebrate my journey into adulthood. The war within me raged on, wanting to forget, but wanting to hold on. I couldn’t make sense of anything, so I turned to Nate, my voice strained, “Tell me a dream.”
Before I started ignoring him, our discussions over sudden lucid dreams we had when we ‘slept’ were my favorite conversations. It seemed like neither one of us had really been able to fully fall asleep since our accidents, and our dreams were always vivid and often involved each other. The whole thing was more creepy than when Luke and Leia kissed in Star Wars.
Nate’s eyes blazed, but his smile was mischievous. “You were featured in a dream I had last night.”
I sucked in a quick breath but kept my eyes on the sky, afraid to look at him, afraid of how hard I could fall if I let Conner go. “Only featured? I should’ve been the main star! I am the birthday girl after all.”
He agreed and went on to tell me such an absurd dream that I was sure he humored me, but I still loved every little detail. I wished I could be surrounded by nothing but nature and the sound of Nate’s voice keeping me company forever.
“I got you something for your birthday.”
Gesturing to the firewalk with one hand and holding up the Magic 8-Ball with the other, I said, “Did I forget to tell you thanks?”
Without saying a word, he reached into his pocket and retrieved a lavender, jewelry pouch, then handed it to me.
“For me?”
He nodded.
I untied the strings, then turned over the bag and dumped the contents into my open palm. A blue glass pendant on a sterling silver necklace with a diamond in the middle dropped into my hand. “Oh my gosh. It’s the necklace I saw at the Coast Guard Festival. How did you know?”
Nate just shrugged, but the words he spoke the night jerkface almost assaulted me echoed faintly in the back of my mind, when Nate told me he always sees me. Not in a creepy stalker way though.
I reached out and wrapped him in a hug. “Thank you so, so, so much. You really shouldn’t have done all this. It’s way too much.” It really was too much. I mean, the necklace must’ve been on a major sale because I’m pretty sure I remember it costing around five-hundred.
He held me, making me warm again, like a fire burned in my soul a thousand times hotter than the coals I walked over. After a moment, Nate leaned back and took the necklace from me. He fastened the clasp around my neck, and my heart thumped erratically.
A chorus of Happy Birthday interrupted us as the rest of our gang approached, Tammy leading the way with a lit cupcake. I blew out the candle, wishing for success at completing the eight things left on my list before I left for college.
“Did you make a bucket list wish?” Sean asked.
“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true.” My response was muffled, since I’d already shoved half of the pumpkin spice cupcake into my mouth.
He jammed his hands in his pocket. “Well, I think I should be the next student you feature in the Bucs’ Blade. Ya know, for the bucket list. What do you think?”
I nibbled some frosting off the top of my cupcake. “Sounds craptastic.”
“Crap? I’m not the one full of crap!”
With a half-hearted shrug, I shook the 8-Ball for my answer. “Better not tell you now.”
“Of course it says that. It hasn’t heard my list yet.”
Tapping the ball, I said, “Whatever. It’s not a living thing, so you have no argument.”
“Number one,” he listed, ignoring me. “Land a record deal and make it as big as Green Day. I’ve gotta start making lotsa green for my honey here.”
Nicole leaned over, and he kissed her playfully until I made gagging sounds.
“Number two: learn how to yodel. Wouldn’t that sound sweet on our album?”
Nicole cupped her hands around her mouth. “No-de-laa-thank-you-hoo. That stuff only flies in the Alps.”
Sean smacked his lips. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, woman. I’m a seventeen-year-old black man from whiteville Grand Haven, telling ya’ll that me yodeling on our next album will be off the chain. And now, number three: win a freestyle rap competition. I figured I already conquered the karaoke contest world, so that should be my next thing.”
Nate seemed distracted, carving images in the dirt with a stick, but Sean’s comment grabbed his attention. “Dude, no offense. You can rock the guitar, you sing good enough backup vocals or karaoke, you can even rap decent, but not freestyle. The last time you tried to drop bombs over the mic in the lunchroom was downright embarrassing.”
Sean pulled at a weed, then released it to the wind. “Just chill. I’ve been practicing.”
“Let’s hear a freestyle rap for Olga’s birthday, then.” Nicole’s voice sounded doubtful. “If we all think it’s good, Olga will put your list in November’s paper. Sound fair?”
She raised her eyebrows at me, and I nodded.
Sean stood and mimicked a beat, waving his hand back and forth over his head and dancing. “It’s been eighteen years since the planet welcomed Olga Gay/ And she be cool no matter what other people say/ And now she just firewalked as part of her thing/ I just wish this white girl could sing/ We’ve already taken her to a party and snuck her out/ And that she’ll do all her quests, I have no doubt/ And I can’t believe that some stupid lightning became our best friend’s killer/ When that happened, I thought we’d drown ourselves in Millers/ But instead I hooked up with Olga’s best friend, Nic/ The girl from Jersey who be sayin’ what the frick/ And for whom this rhyme I just did kick.” He pointed toward us, but I wasn’t playing any more. “When I say Nic, you say frick. Nic.”
“Frick,” Nate shouted.
He was the only one.
Clenching my fists, nails bit into my palm. I jumped from my seat, stared Sean in the face for a few seconds, then stomped off to the pond. Silence loomed behind me, so I concentrated on the sound of my feet sliding through the leaves as the wind carried the stink of wood rot. The pond was deserted now, and the only thing keeping me company for a few minutes were the animal eyes gleaming from the surrounding tree trunks.
I skimmed the surface of the pond with my fingers, ripples carrying my touch across the water.
Nate flopped next to me on the bank.
“What about otters?” he yell-whispered, but I ignored him, continuing to dip my fingers in the cool water. He leaned into me. “Seriously, what about otters?”
I suppressed a laugh. The guys took a river kayaking trip this past summer when I was grounded, and while they were planning it one Saturday at breakfast, I mentioned my unnatural deathly fear of otters as being my excuse for never kayaking. “Maybe I deserve to be bitten by an otter.”
“If anyone deserves that, it’s Sean.”
I plucked a dead flower off a nearby branch, then picked at the petals.
Nate loves me; he loves me not. He loves me; he loves me not.
“He’s not the one who killed Conner.”
“This again? I thought … .” He squinted back toward our friends, then turned and looked ahead, as if gathering his thoughts. “Hey, you wanna do something even more fun than walking over hot coals?” He smiled, and I felt myself smiling with him, despite my sour mood.
“Now, what could be more fun than that?” I mocked, shaking my 8-Ball. “Most likely. What did you have in mind?”
He crooked his finger at me, and I leaned in close as he whispered in my ear. “I’ve been bra
instorming a list of possible perfect pranks for my life list. I came up with one titled ‘Nate Barca’s and Olga Gay Worontzoff’s Operation Rabies Awareness Fun Prank to Ensure the Jedi Order Takes Bites Seriously and Doesn’t Get Bit.’ And let me tell you, it’s really good. Super good. Epic even.”
I shook my head and laughed. “What it is, is really long. The title, I mean. Where’d you come up with it?”
“I thought of it after our convo about you being deathly afraid of otters. I watched The Office that same night. Do you ever watch that?”
“Of course. It’s only like the funniest show ever.”
“Word. Well, that one episode was on, where Michael Scott organizes the fun run to raise awareness about rabies after Meredith was bitten. So, the show and your fear inspired me.”
“I usually do give new meaning to the word inspired.”
“Listen to my idea before you judge. You want to hear the prank plan?”
“Why not,” I answered.
He told me, and I must say, the idea was really good. And with Nate’s step-by-step instructions, I thought I could pull it off.
We both stood and dusted the moss and dirt off our jeans. Then I held out my hand, and he placed an Alka-Seltzer on my outstretched palm. I laughed at just the idea of pulling off the prank and wished Conner was present to see it. Maybe he was out there, somewhere over the rainbow, and maybe he’d be laughing too. After all, the force was strong with that one.
“Are you ready?” Nate asked, his voice quiet.
I answered quietly in return. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
The next second, I screamed, “Otter! An otter bit me! Darn, son of a monkey’s uncle!”
Nicole flew off her log seat. “What the frick! Are you okay?”
“Need water.” I shook my head kind of twitchy like as she dug inside her tote bag for a bottle of water.
“Rabies,” I heard Tammy whisper to Kyle.
He laughed softly as I took a swig of water and then gagged.
Nicole placed a hand on my back. “What’s the matter? Are you having trouble breathing? Do you need your inhaler?”
Holding up my hands, one fist tightly clenched to secure the small white tablet, I blocked my face.
She seized my hands and then looked around for help. “Oh my gosh, she’s foaming at the mouth!”
As she turned around, I leaned over and tried to bite Sean’s arm.
“Sean, watch out!” Nate shouted, playing along.
Nicole dropped my arm and ran screaming with Sean, hiding behind Tammy and Kyle.
Nate exploded into laughter, and I wiped the foam off my mouth onto my shirtsleeve.
Sean said, “Well, the words ‘son of a monkey’s uncle’ should’ve been our first clue. Nicole, we just got punked.”
She stared at me wide-eyed. “I can’t believe this crap! There was no rabid otter?”
“Nah,” Nate answered through laughter.
I couldn’t help but laugh too, even though Nicole continued to stare wide-eyed at me.
“How did you get your mouth to foam then?” she asked.
Sitting back down amongst the log chairs, I neatly folded my hands in my lap. “It was all Nate’s idea.”
Sean gestured for him to explain as Nate plopped next to me.
“Well, I carry Alka-Seltzer at all times because I used to have irritable bowel syndrome constantly.”
Sean threw his hands in the air. “Whoa. TMI, dawg.”
“Nicole asked. So, anyway, I got an antacid out of my pocket for Olga, told her to put it in her mouth and scream about otters, get a drink of water in front of everyone, and it worked like a charm. Nicely done, Olga.”
Everyone applauded.
“Yeah, I only wish Nicole was acting when she tried to save her sorry butt instead of saving her best friend.”
“What’s up with that?” Sean asked.
I turned my head and saw Sean looking at me with a half-smile.
“Oh, and I’m sorry about earlier. I’m an idiot. I didn’t mean to ruin your birthday.”
“You didn’t ruin anything. I overreacted.” Smiling, I studied Nicole. “Looks like I have that in common with my best friend.”
“I have no excuse,” she meekly mumbled, a first for her. “I’ll make it up to you. One more birthday wish. Anything you want.”
I rubbed my hands together. “Let me drive to school on Monday. I need extra practice.”
She winced. “Um, let’s ask the Magic 8-Ball first. It’s the rules, right?”
Looking at my watch, I noted it was almost midnight and gave the ball one last ceremonial shake. After all, I was eighteen now, so I must put childish things behind me. “Without a doubt.”
Letting loose an exasperated sigh, Nic said, “And without a doubt, I’ll get whiplash. Can I come to church with you tomorrow?”
I pressed my lips together. “What? Why?”
She pointed skyward. “I have some sins I need to confess. Ya know, just in case.”
I knew she joked, but the thought of possibly causing another accident and losing my other best friend made me grip the 8-Ball harder.
One. Last. Shake.
Should I let go of my guilt?
Yes, definitely.
“The difference between a successful person and others,
is not a lack of strength,
not a lack of knowledge,
but rather a lack of will.”
—Vince Lombardi
I studied the calendar hanging over my bed, the one Nicole created for me as part of last year’s Christmas gift. November displayed a picture of the Jedi Order holding up our corn dogs in front of the Pronto Pup hotdog stand.
Chuckling to myself, I crossed off Friday’s date with my Sharpie. November eleventh, A.K.A., my final day as a cheerleader. Even though the Grand Haven Bucs’ played their last football game of the season tonight, we didn’t have school because of Veteran’s Day. Sunlight slanted in through my open window, and I knew what item I had to cross of my list next. The Bookman was closed, the weather perfect, and if I waited any longer, it’d be too cold. In fact, this was the last weekend the sailboat rental places in town were open before winter set in. Picking up the phone, I dialed Nate’s cell.
“Good morning, sunshine,” he answered.
I squinted out the window, light stabbing at my eyes. “Do you want to go sailing with me today?”
Goose bumps popped up on my arm as I waited for his reply.
“I crashed at Sean’s house last night. I can come by on my skateboard and pick you up. A half-hour okay?”
“Yep, and thanks.”
Thirty minutes later, Nate strolled into the kitchen, pulled out a chair, then took his place at the table with me. “Pumpkin pie and coffee for breakfast again?”
“It’s sooo yummy,” I said, my mouth half-full. “Lots of sugar in the morning is good for any physical activity.”
He laughed. “You’re a strange girl. And do you realize how often you talk with your mouth full, Miss Piggy?”
“One of my many endearing qualities. I’m also brilliant and insightful and freakishly good looking. Did you want some?” I held up a forkful toward him.
He muttered something, too low for me to hear, but it sounded inappropriate. Something about wanting to be the pie, but that couldn’t be right.
“What’s that?” I asked, my eyebrows shooting up.
A smile played at the edges of his mouth as his thumb stroked my bottom lip, brushing away a crumb. His touch was better than the pie and coffee, and I was almost tempted to give him a dose of his own medicine by taking his thumb in my mouth to nibble teasingly.
Almost. It would’ve been fun to see his reaction.
“Only kids eat pie for breakfast. Besides, Sean’s mom already served up a breakfast for champions with toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, and grapefruit.”
“Oh, so you’re too old to eat pie in the morning but not too old to let someone’s mommy fix your breakfast,” I
mumbled, shoving the last bite into my mouth.
He grunted in agreement.
“Ha! Now who sounds like a pig?”
I watched him bite back a smile. “You done?”
“Yep,” I responded as Dad barreled into the kitchen, wearing his sailboat boxer shorts and nothing else. “Dad!” I yelled, mortified.
“Sorry,” he apologized in a robotic voice. “Must. Get. Coffee. Hey, Nate.”
“Hello, sir. See you at the game tonight?” Nate asked, helping me out of my chair.
Nate attended every football game to watch me cheer and wanted to believe my parent’s noticeable absence was because they were letting me get really good before they came.
Dad didn’t look up as he poured his coffee. Not a good sign. “Game?”
Nate took a breath and held it in his mouth. He looked like a squirrel hoarding acorns in his cheeks before finally exhaling slowly. “Yeah, it’s Olga’s last one.”
“Oh?” Dad took a hard, obvious swallow of his black coffee. “Did you want me to come?”
I knew he was caught between a rock and a hard place. Mom and I had an understanding. In the last few months, we both struggled to be in as much control of our shared universe as possible. If Dad agreed to attend my game, he’d put himself smack dab in the middle of our fight and upset our perfect, albeit psychotic, balance.
“Nope,” I lied. “We’re going sailing. See ya later, Dad.”
“Wait. Sailing?” Shock rolled over his features like a wave cresting.
“Yep.”
Running a hand through his gray hair, he seemed to contemplate the right words to say. “Be safe.”
While Nate skateboarded, I rode my bike to Grand Haven Beach Rentals. I hadn’t been there since the day Conner died, but I tried to keep the thought from reaching my heart.
“Truth or dare?” Nate asked, and I was grateful for the distraction.
Eyes squinting in the sun, I said, “I thought you were too old for kid stuff.”
His smile wavered. “Okay, truth it is. Do you want your parents at the game tonight?”
I frowned at him. “Why do you keep harping on this?”