Watching the scene now, a sandpaper smile inches up my lips. It’s funny how I took for granted that she was just there. Back then, I thought her official job was torturing me, harping on me to pick up my laundry, empty the trash, don’t go here, don’t do that, get this finished. An invisible fist hits my stomach. I killed her.
“Okay, self. Time to go someplace quiet,” I say, taking the phone into the tiny room I once shared with my brother. “Here is my room… One day I will not fall asleep to the smell of Jared’s nasty boy stench and the sound of him talking in his sleep at night. The good news: he reveals all his secrets in his sleep—including where he hides his M&M’s stash.” I yank out a giant bag of colorful candy from behind his dresser, smile, and pop a couple of candies in my mouth.
The camera scans the rest of the room: the weathered wooden bunkbed with my pink patchwork quilt hanging on top and Jared’s bottom bunk dripping with dirty laundry, our white plastic dresser, a pink and green tapestry covering one wall, and a stupid motorcycle poster plastered on another.
“So, self: Mom seems better right now,” I whisper to the camera. “She isn’t crying anymore. Is she still good?” My face looks hopeful, but I remember it wasn’t long before I was pretty tired of Mom’s problems.
My heart sinks. The girl on-screen looks so young, it’s like I don’t want her to ever know the truth.
“Let’s see,” I continue, jiggling the phone slightly. “What’s been happening lately… Last week, Jared threatened to beat up Alex for making fun of my most awesome silver duct tape costume I wore for Superhero Day last spring. Which, I suppose, gives him some big brother bonus points.”
“But…” I say with a sigh. “He is still freaking annoying and he’s still Jared. Gross.” I zoom in on the half-eaten sandwich on a plate on his pillow.
“Hmmm… are things even cooler senior year? Do you finally have bigger boobs?” I tilt the camera down to my average chest and loose T-shirt, then back to my face. “I hope to God that Mrs. Nusca is not watching this. Alright, did you start your band? Are you still number one in your class? Did you become president of the science club? Do you have a cute boyfriend? Did you get a scholarship to Berkeley?”
Guilt whips through me. No, I think. No, you don’t give a crap about school anymore. No, you don’t have a boyfriend. No, you didn’t get a scholarship because you haven’t even applied. Your band idea fizzled out when Mom and Dad died. Everything fizzled out. You totally blew off your best friend all year, shutting her out—shutting everyone out.
On the video, a knock on the door interrupts me. I roll my eyes and sigh. “I’m busy!” My voice was pure bitch.
On-screen, the door creaks open. “Dad, I said I’m busy.” Dad’s rugged face appears next to mine. “Hi, future Ember!” he says with a silly open-mouthed grin. He waves behind my head.
Lying here now, I’m so happy to see his face again. It’s like he’s really across from me, talking to me.
“Emby, I want you to hear yourself sing the most amazing song that you wrote for me last week.” His face disappears off-screen.
“Dad, no…” I say, looking up at him behind the camera. They were always meddling. That’s what I thought back then. “This is my video. To me.”
“Do it, Emby… Do it,” he whispers.
I sit there quiet, biting my lip, looking past the camera at him for a couple seconds.
“C’mon, it’s awesome. Please?” He leans into the frame again and places his cheek next to mine, squishing our faces together. “Pleeeeease,” he says, kissing my cheek a few times quickly.
“Nooooo.” The camera bounces around as I shake my head and scrunch my shoulder up to get him off me. When the camera comes back to my face, I try to suppress a smile. I remember how he could completely harass me.
Lying here in this cold room, I would give anything for that kind of harassment now. Watching him kiss me makes me smile, but after a half a second, it disintegrates. I’ll never see him again. I’ll never hug him. I’ll never see his muddy boots by the door or come home to find him writing lyrics in a lawn chair in the sunshine. My breath stops in my throat, and tears cascade down my face.
Dad must have pouted off camera, because on-screen, my lips twist into that weird frown-smile that I’ve done since I was little. He got to me. His goofy charm. “Fine… Fine!” I clear my throat. “Okay? Okay.”
“Here, let me hold the phone. You play guitar,” he says. The video jiggles a little as Dad takes the phone and places my guitar in my lap. I sing the song I wrote for his birthday. I never wrote one for Mom—which now I kind of regret. But half the time we were arguing about something.
On the screen, I close my eyes and strum the strings. It’s like the music possesses my swaying body.
I am humming at the kitchen table,
Where I’m strummin’ my guitar,
Then you just happened to tell
A tale that took my heart.
You said your friend set out to live life big.
He made a plan to explore,
Picked a spot on a globe, yeah he did.
He set out to go an’ do more.
He’d play his songs
from the tops of the peaks
To the gardens of Tokyo.
So let’s pack our bags
And we’ll fly first class,
Feel the sun in our eyes
while watching clouds pass.
Yeah, strummin’ and hummin’,
Soarin’ high to see,
Singing, our song—yeah, Dad and me.
I hang on to the last note, then grin at my dad, who is now applauding behind the camera. The phone shakes with each clap. “That’s my Emby! Woo hoo!”
I nod slowly and give my best Elvis impersonation. “Thank you. Thank-you-vera-much.” Then I wave at the camera. “Good luck, future self! Love, me from freshman year.”
The video ends and it’s like the end of the world. The end of stepping over Mom’s weird rock collections and staring at random scraps of poetry she taped onto mirrors and cabinets. The end of Dad’s Sunday pancakes and his dirty feet on the kitchen table. I had forgotten what life was even like before the accident.
I am suddenly aware of myself, aware of the tears dripping like a faucet down my face. My throat hurts. My whole body convulses and I flop my head down onto the bed and sob into my pillow. God, I miss them. So much. I even miss that crappy little trailer we lived in. And the me from freshman year feels like an entirely different person. She doesn’t even sound like me. I was so normal.
I click “Play” to watch the video again.
“Safeway is hiring checkers.” Gram’s voice is like breaking glass. I quickly click off the phone and shove it under the pillow, then take a silent, deep breath and subtly wipe the tears off my face.
I don’t respond. Gram stands in her mint-green robe in the doorway of the cramped room. After a moment, I shift my gaze to the windowsill, where the weird pyramid coin sits.
“I saw the job posting when I was shopping there yesterday,” she adds. “May be a good option since you don’t seem to want to go to college.”
A wave of nausea hits me. I imagine myself still in Leadville at her age, ringing up milk and cereal on an endless conveyor belt.
“You know, I ran into Noah Robinson there. He’s going to the University of Colorado. Majoring in economics. Sounds like he has a real good plan.”
“Yeah, I bet.” I glance up at her standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. In my peripheral vision, I can see her tilt her head, giving me what I call the Freak Show Exhibit look.
“You can always apply for that job in front of Cookies Altitude.” She waits a beat and then continues. “You know the one. Where you wear that gingerbread cookie costume and dance out in front to bring customers in.”
I shoot her a searing look and then gaze out the dirt-streaked window. The coin flashes in the light.
Gram inhales sharply. “You need to figure it out.”
/> I can feel her presence linger in the doorway. She breathes loudly through her nose, taking up the air in an otherwise silent room.
“Yeah,” I say, finally sitting up. “I know.”
5
A truck’s motor hums next to me on the street. “Hey, ya gotta be cold,” Zach Morrison calls across the cab and out the open passenger window. I’ve known Zach since second grade but would barely call him an acquaintance.
“Not really.” I shake my head. That’s a lie. I can’t feel my toes through my Chuck Taylors that started red and now look maroon from wear. I’ve been walking around town all afternoon, avoiding Gram. The cozy smell of wood-burning fireplaces follows me. I used to love that scent so much—the smell of family, of home. Now it just taunts me.
“You got wheels, Ember, so why you always walk around this town?” His truck inches alongside me on the road.
I lift a shoulder and gaze at the ground in front of me. My fingers twirl the pyramid coin in my pocket. “I like to walk.”
“You gotta get your brain checked, girl. I’ll give you a lift.” His voice smiles.
I could walk. Really, I could. And I like being alone these days. But as I continue a few paces, the warm air from his heater blows out the window, tickling my nose. Rap music blares from the stereo, producing leather-black and cranberry stars in my Color Crayon Brain. They’re cool and disturbing, and maybe that’s why I stop, nod, and get in. “Thanks.”
The setting sun paints the sky orange, the color of rotten carrots or maybe mushy orange chicken. I don’t know if it’s me and my funk or what, but for some reason even the goddamn sunset isn’t pretty.
A few minutes later, we arrive in front of Gram’s leaning house, and Zach puts the truck in park, tilting his head of long sandy-brown hair back against the headrest. I should jump out and run inside. That’s what normal people do. They say thanks and go home. But the dark, empty house shrinks up in my vision, as if it will fold in on me entirely when I walk through the door. So I sit there in the truck, inhaling the smell of his Burger King bag on the floor, watching the shadows creep across the postage stamp lawn.
Zach talks about something—maybe a video game—but I don’t really hear him.
“You wanna hang out or something?” he asks. I glance back at him, awakened from my fog. Despite the chill, he wears a short-sleeved gray concert T-shirt. It’s so worn it has tiny holes that look like they could have been chewed by mice. He’s got that scraggly stubble thing going on across his chin, too—a case, I assume, of wanting a grown-up beard so bad he doesn’t see how it really makes him look like Shaggy from Scooby Doo.
I shake my head no. “Thanks.” I move to push the door open.
“You know, me and JT are headed up to Ruby Gardens to hang out. Why don’t you come with us?” He nods his head toward the south. “You can see everything up there. Pretty cool.”
Another glance at the house. Gram’s obviously gone now. She never tells me where she goes. We just coexist together. My bedroom window is black. The elephant on my chest just got five hundred pounds heavier.
Zach inhales and scratches his head, moving some curly pieces of hair out around his ears. “It’s up to you.”
I shrug. “Sure.”
Zach’s truck lurches forward up the hill. I rest my head on the window and watch the aspen trees’ branches moving in the breeze. More dead things.
Zach taps his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Funny we never hung out before,” he says.
It’s not funny, actually. Zach is the resident druggie and not necessarily the smartest guy in school. We always operated in different circles.
“You always used to be with that girl Maddie. Where’s she now?”
I shrug and pick at the stitching of my jacket. “She’s busy and stuff.” I don’t tell him that I’m swimming away to keep from drowning her, too.
“So doesn’t your brother go to CU now?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow, with dead parents and all, that’s gotta suck to have him gone.”
A pretty stupid thing to say to someone, but it’s the first time in forever anyone has actually mentioned my dead parents. Everyone pretends they never even existed. He’s blunt and a little clueless, but in a way, Zach might be the only person who’s nailed how I really feel. A guy I barely know.
After a few minutes, the bumping ends, and we get to Ruby Gardens. The clouds hang low up here, obscuring the view of Leadville. Zach texts on his phone while the stereo plays a mellow song, delivering muddled moss-green and sand-brown dots in my vision. It makes me want to cry.
JT Studebaker pulls up next to us in a black minivan, gets out, and walks over to the truck. Dressed in athletic shorts and a Broncos jersey, he pokes his head through Zach’s open window and grins like he has fishing wire holding up the corners of his mouth. That’s one thing I remember about JT: he’s always carried a grin so big that it shrinks his eyes to the size of raisins. “How’d a dude like you get a girl like this in your truck?”
Zach pinches off a small smile and looks at his lap. “Ember’s just here to get away, right?” He glances at me. Zach’s top lip curls up like a little ski jump, and his crooked nose is kind of hockey rugged. Maybe he could be cute. I don’t know.
JT hands two beers through the window. I drank a couple times with Maddie, but not since my parents’ death. I hold the bottle in my lap with two cold hands. I still don’t know why I came here.
“Come on, girl, we having fun or what?” JT says.
Zach opens his beer, takes a gulp, and turns up the volume on the stereo. “Yeah, drink up.”
I twist off the cap and take a sip. My face involuntarily scrunches up, and I try to hide the fact that I hate the taste of beer. JT moves around the truck, opens my door, and climbs in next to me.
For a while, we listen to music. I don’t talk much, just quietly laugh at stupid stuff they say to each other. The way JT’s leather coat kind of looks like a girl’s. The way the elementary school gymnasium smells like feet. They sing loudly and off-key to songs they love. I finish off my beer.
“You can’t see anything up here,” JT says. “You know where we should have gone instead of Ruby?”
“Where?” Zach asks.
“Trinity Forest.”
Zach shakes his head and leans back into the corner of the door. “Shit, I ain’t going there.”
“My brother said he saw some weird stuff there—like crazy fog, lightning bolts, and devil séances. Witches.” Yeah, JT’s brother also does lots of drugs.
“Witchcraft,” Zach deadpans. “Big pointy hats and cauldrons?”
JT shrugs and downs the beer. I remain quiet. All I know is Mom got completely weirded out whenever someone talked about Trinity.
“I’m not going in there.” Zach turns up the music to end the conversation.
“Scared?” JT leans over me to ogle his friend, placing a fat hand on my knee.
Zach swirls the beer in his mouth before answering, puffing up his chest up a bit. “No.”
“Then let’s go, dude,” JT says. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
My heart beats a little faster. I stick my hand in my pocket and turn the coin over in my fingers. My private Trinity coin. I want to go and see what it’s all about.
“Fine. Let’s do it.” Zach grins, turns the ignition, and yanks the car into reverse. The bumpy ride jostles us as we drive back down toward town. JT whoops and hollers, turns up the music, and waves his arm out the open window. “We’re going to goddamn Trinity!” he screams.
My lips turn up in a small smile. No one goes to Trinity Forest. Ever. I’m exhilarated and scared to death. For some reason, I’m actually happy to not be alone right now. The second beer goes down like water as we swing around blind curves way too fast. And the third beer—did I drink it already?
By the time we make it down the dead-end road leading to Trinity Forest, I am buzzed. Maybe drunk. “See all the fun you’ve been missing out on all th
ese years?” JT nudges me with his shoulder and scrunches his eyes smaller. “We rock.”
I giggle and slap my hand on his shoulder. He’s so funny. So flipping funny. How did I not know how funny he was? “You guyz are amazin’,” I say. My tongue doesn’t work right.
Zach turns off the engine and the two of them pour out of the truck and scream. The chilly air rushes into the cab of the truck through an open door. “I’m huntin’ pointy witch hats!” Zach laughs.
“We’re heeeere!” JT yells, making a beeline for the barbed-wire fence.
Zach lets out a big whoop and throws a beer bottle at the wooden fence post before squeezing between the wires and racing into the dense thicket of pine trees.
I can make out the edges of Zach’s bouncing white T-shirt moving away in the shadows of the trees, and then they’re gone. The air around me is crisp and silent outside of the occasional breathy gusts of wind that rattle the treetops.
I stumble to follow them in the dark, smiling and tripping over the rocks that seem to move beneath the now tilting earth. The ring of their voices and laughter meanders through the trees. I stand with my hands on the rough fence post, mesmerized by the sheer darkness of the forest ahead. This is Trinity. In a way, it seems peaceful. Not dangerous. Not evil, or inhabited by witches. I wonder, briefly, if all the rumors and stories are just a bunch of smoke.
I don’t know if it’s just the beer or what, but an incredibly peaceful buzz envelops me. I close my eyes and take it in, swaying for a moment. The elephant is gone for the first time. I smile.
JT swears. My eyes snap open as he bolts toward me at a dead sprint. He climbs through the fence, his footsteps and heavy panting stirring up the silence as he races to the truck.
“Oh my God, run!” Zach says, following behind.
“What?” I ask.
“Ah, man, did you hear that? What the hell was that?” Zach ignores my question as he swings open the truck door.
“It was, like, vibrating or something,” JT says. His voice quivers and his feet kick up rocks and slide on the gravel as he makes his way to the passenger door. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him really afraid. Usually he’s always got that stupid grin.
Ember Burning Page 2