by Jessi Kirby
I jog a few steps to catch up to where Kat and Trevor have stopped. I was right about the memorial. Raised up from the ground on a cement platform is one of those oversize, bronze plaques. It has a permanent vase at the top, filled with snowy white flowers, which I’m sure are kept up by the Cruz family, who probably also installed the memorial. The inscription below the vase reads:
In loving memory of
Shane Cruz
and
Julianna Farnetti,
Two stars
Whose light was gone too soon.
I read it over two more times, focusing on the words and wondering if Josh has ever come out here and what he must’ve thought when he looked at those words. I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for him in the beginning, not to be able to show the depth of his grief for her or what it meant. Not to be acknowledged as someone who lost her. If I were him, I don’t think I would’ve ever come out here. I would’ve stayed away, and then, if I wanted to go somewhere to feel near to her, I’d go to McCloud, which even I thought of now as their special, secret place.
“So what do you think, Frost?” Trevor says. “Is she here? Or are we going to find her?”
“We’re gonna find her,” Kat says. “I know we are.”
I glance down at the plaque, then out over the lake, trying to feel what I really believe. “I don’t know,” I say softly. And it’s the truth. I really can’t say.
“Well then,” Trevor replies, “let’s get on the road and go find out.”
Kat squeezes her arms tighter to her chest and nods. “Yeah. Let’s get going. This is pretty and meaningful and all that crap, but I’ve had enough of this place.”
“You guys go ahead. I’ll be there in a minute,” I say.
“You all right?” Kat asks.
“Yeah, yeah, I just want to stay another minute. I’ll meet you at the car.”
“Whatever you say.”
She and Trevor turn and head back down the trail in the direction we came from. I watch for a moment, half-curious if I’ll see a glance pass between them or her hand on his arm—something that might explain why she invited him to come along, but there’s nothing. I look back over the still surface of the lake like maybe I’ll hear something if I listen close enough. But the only sound comes from the other side where the river meets it in a constant hush. An indistinguishable whisper.
Don’t be here, under the water, I say to her in my mind. Don’t be a lost love for Orion. Be a miracle. Be alive, and living a beautiful life somewhere new, however impossible it seems. Let me find you because I’m supposed to, and because you’re supposed to be with him. Not just a distant memory. Let me find you so that this means something.
Kat’s voice echoes off the granite mountains, interrupting my prayer/plea. “Parker! Come on! We’re losing road time!”
“Coming!” I shout back.
I take one last look at the lake and decide that we’ll find her. That it’s meant to be. And then I turn and run for Trevor’s car where he, Kat, and fate are waiting for me.
22.
“Peril of Hope”
—1961
Three hours down the empty two-lane highway, I’m happy that it’s leading us to the coast at least, because after passing through the familiar string of one-blink towns named after various types of pine trees, we are traveling down a stretch of road so barren and plain it’s hard to feel like we’re making any progress at all.
“We should’ve brought snacks,” Kat says from the back. “It’s ridiculous to be on a road trip without snacks. I could use some candy right now. And a Diet Coke. And maybe some chips. Those spicy red ones that make your face sweat.” She leans forward, resting her elbows on mine and Trevor’s seats. “When’s the next place to stop?”
Trevor points at a sign as we pass. “Casa Junction, in another sixty-two miles.”
“Well, could you give it a little gas, then? I’m starving.”
I turn around. “How can you be hungry? You ate two breakfasts.”
Trevor glances down at the speedometer. “I’m already doing eighty.”
“I have a fast metabolism,” Kat says. “Apparently faster than Trevor Collins here is willing to drive.”
He laughs at this and I feel the car accelerate.
“Eighty’s fast enough,” I say. “The last thing we need is a ticket.”
“Fine.” Kat sits back in her seat, all huffy. I rummage through my purse for something to give her, because I know all too well what happens when she goes too long without eating. “Here,” I tell her. “Here’s a piece of gum. Will that last you sixty-two miles?”
“Maybe,” she says, taking it. “But you’ve been warned. I’m bitchy when I’m hungry.”
“As opposed to other times?” Trevor asks, with a side glance and a quick smile at me.
Kat kicks the back of his seat and laughs. “Shut up. The only reason I’m nice to you is because of my friend up there in the front seat.”
My cheeks flare up and I turn to look far away, out the window. I’m ridiculously relieved by Kat’s comment, and once again feel like a bad friend for being so paranoid about her and Trevor.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I say quickly. I reach for the volume knob and turn up the radio, which is tuned to some XM station I’ve never heard of, and none of us say anything for a long moment. Then Trevor speaks up.
“So. Parker. You thought about how you’re gonna approach this? Like, if we walk into an art gallery, and Julianna Farnetti is standing there in all her perfect, golden glory, do you know what you’re gonna say to her? Because it’s probably safe to assume that if she’s stayed hidden this long, she’s not gonna be happy about being found, you know?”
Kat sits up all of a sudden. “Or—oh my God, what if Shane’s there too? What if they staged the whole thing and ran off together and have been living a secret life ever since?”
“Why would they have done that?” I ask. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“And your theory about just Julianna surviving does?”
“More than both of them still being alive,” Trevor says. “He didn’t have any reason to run away. She kind of did.” He’s right. If she did, and has stayed away all these years, why on earth would she ever want to be found?
Panic zips through me. I hadn’t thought of that at all. Actually, I haven’t thought about anything past the idea of finding her, which, as much as I hope to, still seems unlikely. But if I really do, and I tell her about Orion, who’s to say she’d actually come back? And if she did, who’s to say he’d want her to? Who’s to say they’d actually end up together? Or that they should? What if, by doing this, I’m disrupting the way things were actually meant to be, as sad as they are?
It’s hard to make the distinction between believing I’ll find her and using the search for her as an excuse to finally set out and do something different. The prospect of having to actually say something to her, and where to begin coming up with the right thing to say, is almost enough to make me want to turn around and go home. Sit in my room and obediently write my speech, and go on with my uneventful and safe, predictable, planned-out life. I shake my head. “I have no idea what I’ll do or say if we find her. None.”
“Hm.” Trevor nods, but doesn’t add anything.
Silence settles over the three of us, filled in only by the background music and the barren desert scenery zipping by outside the window. I try to picture actually walking into the gallery and finding Julianna there. I see her standing to the side of a painting, maybe talking to a potential buyer who has fallen in love with one of her pieces. She doesn’t notice me at first, which gives me a chance to watch and observe just how much she’s changed, and how much is still the same. I don’t remember ever hearing her voice, but I haven’t ever forgotten her face—the high, delicate cheekbones, the olive skin and green eyes, the cascade of wavy golden hair. I picture it all still the same, only more beautiful in
real life than it is in the photographs and on the billboard. And that’s as far as I get. What comes next? How do you approach someone who’s pretended to be dead for ten years? What do you open with?
“Okay,” Kat says, interrupting the thought. “I think if we find her, you just walk in and hand her the journal,” Kat says, as if she can read my mind. “That way she can’t pretend not to be who she is. The shock alone would give her away.”
“And then what?” I turn to Kat.
“And then . . . let her do the talking. See what she says. That’s all you can do because you can’t guess how she’s gonna react to being found.”
Kat’s probably right, but I don’t do wait-and-see very well. I like to have a plan to follow. “Okay, so what if she gets mad and tells me to leave?”
“Don’t.”
“What if she pretends she has no idea what it is?”
“Then bring up Orion. Tell her that he went back to town and has been there, pining for her ever since. Read to her from the journal. Anything. You’re only gonna get one chance with this, so you better make it count.”
“What if she’s not there at all?” I ask. “What if I’m wrong, and she really is in Summit Lake, down in the bottom of the hourglass?”
“Then you took a chance on something for once. You did something you wouldn’t normally do, and that’s what matters. Right, Collins?”
Trevor’s been quiet this whole time, maybe thinking of different scenarios on his own, but now he nods. “It’s true.” He glances at me again. “Taking a chance can be worth a lot more than you know.” He puts his eyes back on the road—the one in front of us that’s unknown and wide open. The road less traveled. And somehow I think he’s not just talking about this trip. There’s something in his voice that goes straight to my stomach and sends a warm tingly feeling right through the rest of me.
“I hope so,” I answer. And now I’m not just talking about the trip either. There are a few other things I’ve decided to take a chance on in these two days of my one wild and precious life.
23.
“Accidentally on Purpose”
—1960
Fifty-seven minutes later we pull into Casa Junction, a rest stop complete with gas, an extensive food mart, and a sprawling grassy area where people can let their kids run around and their dogs do their business. Kat leaps from the car and makes for the mini-mart and the bathroom, Trevor gets out, pops the gas cap, and takes the nozzle from the pump. I climb from my seat and stretch in the sun. It’s not even noon yet, and we’ve hit the halfway mark. The air here is already warmer than it will be at home today, and this little thing feels like a gift. I pull my sweatshirt up over my head, and when I lean over to put it in the car, I catch Trevor watching me. He smiles, slow, and like he wants to say something.
“What?” I ask, instantly self-conscious. This morning, in the dim light of my bedroom, I was feeling confident and optimistic and daring. Daring enough to throw on one of Kat’s little tank tops and a pair of cutoffs I’d ordinarily never wear out of the house because they’re so short. Now I feel like I’m dressed up as someone else. Someone far more sure of herself than I feel at the moment.
“Nothing,” Trevor answers with that same smile. He turns and watches the numbers roll over on the gas pump, and I fidget with my shorts and sneak a downward glance to make sure my bra’s not showing or anything.
“Um . . . I’m gonna go get something to drink inside. You want anything?” I try to sound casual and confident instead of like I wish I was wearing something else.
“Sure.” He looks at me again—really looks at me—and I fight the urge to throw my sweatshirt back on. “I’ll take a Coke and a pack of Starburst, since you’re offering.” I nod and start to back away, but he stops me. “Hey, Frost.”
“Yeah?”
“You look good today.”
Normally, with him, I would toss back a little sarcasm and brush off the comment as disingenuous. Especially after our little moment in my car. But after he says it he clears his throat, looks down, and kicks something on the ground. Almost like he’s all of a sudden self-conscious.
“Thanks,” I say simply. I can’t hide the smile it puts on my face, so I turn and head for the store without saying anything else, and I hope he’s watching me as I walk away, because after that, I’m sure there’s just a little strut in my step.
Inside the empty store it’s not hard to find Kat. She’s in the candy aisle, plucking a rainbow of packages from the racks like she’s picking berries or something.
“So,” she asks as she examines the remaining candy on the shelves. “Did you guys have a moment out there?”
I laugh. “What are you talking about? No.” She just looks at me, and I look over my shoulder and through the window to where I can see Trevor now washing the windshield with a squeegee. “Maybe. Sort of. Were you watching?”
She breaks into a wide smile, unwraps a red Tootsie Pop, and pops it in her mouth. “Maybe. Nice outfit, by the way. Glad to see you finally owning your hotness, even if it is a little late.” She beams like a proud mother. “He watched you walk all the way over here, and I watched you look all giddy and nervous about it.”
“I looked nervous?”
“Only from the front. I’m sure you looked just fine from behind,” she says with a wink. “Good. My genius plan is working.”
“What genius plan?”
“I love you, P, but for a smart person you can be awfully dense sometimes.”
“What?”
She sighs. “Look. I don’t actually know how much of a chance there is that we’re going to find Julianna Farnetti. But I did know that if I put you and Trevor Collins together in a car for long enough, something would happen, and chasing after a ghost was the best way to do it. Probably the only way you’d go along with this.”
“With what?” I ask, a little offended. Julianna Farnetti was the point of the whole trip, in my mind.
“With this.” Kat gestures around her like I should understand it. “With letting loose and taking off and having one last hurrah with your best friend and the boy you’ve wanted since seventh grade.” She pauses. “I did this for you, P. For us.”
It’s clear by her voice and the smile on her face that she thinks I should be happy about this. That she thinks she’s doing me a favor. “So, what?” I ask calmly. “All that ‘we have to find her,’ and ‘you’re totally right,’ was just a bunch of BS?”
When I say the words out loud, I don’t bother to hide how mad they make me. I feel stupid, like she’s been laughing at me the entire time. Probably with Trevor. Does he think the same thing? Is he just along for the ride and an easy hookup?
“It wasn’t total BS,” Kat says. “It’s a crazy idea, and it would be amazing if it actually worked out like that.” She pauses and looks at me with what feels almost like pity. “But honestly? I think Julianna Farnetti’s at the bottom of Summit Lake with Shane Cruz, and all of this—the journal, and Josh, and the painting—it’s pretty impossible.”
Her words sting, and the way she just dismisses the entire reason I’ve risked this trip feels like a slap in the face. I avoid her eyes and focus on the rack of gum behind her because I don’t want to look at her right now. “Why would you even bother then? What’s the point?”
“I’m trying to tell you what the point is.” Her voice comes out a touch sharper than when she spoke before, but she reels it back in with her next sentence. Her voice is softer. “This is our last chance for something like this, P, and you never would’ve done it without her as a reason.” She pauses. “Right?”
It’s true, but I don’t answer her.
“And I would’ve done it for any reason you gave me—you know why?”
I sigh, not wanting to hear her carpe diem speech right now.
“Because school’s about to end, Parker, and when it does, everything’s gonna change. You’re going away, and I’m staying in town, and no matter how much we want things to stay the same betw
een us, they won’t. You’ll make a bunch of friends at Stanford who are all crazy smart and driven like you, and I’ll stay home and try not to become my mom, and pretty soon there’ll be too much between us that’s different. Things change, Parker. It doesn’t take a valedictorian to figure that out.”
She stops and I glance up in time to see her drop her eyes to the floor.
The anger welled up in my chest softens, then starts to recede with the realization that this may be the first time I’ve ever seen a weak spot in Kat’s bravado. She clenches her jaw tight, like she knows she gave too much away. Like she doesn’t know what else to say. Kat doesn’t do tender moments.
It makes me want to reach out and hug her and promise that none of that is true. But what if it is? What if she’s right, and everything changes as soon as I leave? I don’t know what to do with this moment either, because now we’re both standing awkwardly in the middle of the Casa Junction food mart, and I’m pretty sure if we look at each other, one or both of us is gonna cry.
Then, just like she’s always done, Kat steps up when I can’t. “I’m sorry,” she says, and she puts her hand on my arm, and steps close, forcing me to look her in the eye. “I just wanted us to have one last, big thing together that we’ll always be able to look back on and say ‘we did that.’ And if we find Julianna Farnetti while we’re doing it, and you get your happy ending, that’s bonus. And . . .”
I see a smile creep back onto her face, and I know whatever she’s about to say is going to lighten the mood. I’m grateful for it, because I don’t want us to be mad at each other anymore. “And what?” I ask.
“And I thought if I could get you and Trevor together, maybe you’d have one more reason to come back after you leave.” She shrugs. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that crap.”