by Alex Flinn
“I guess.” Spider sipped some water.
“And then, I started thinking, the love of Ruthie’s life could have been there too.”
Spider swallowed and waited for Britta to finish blahblahblah. “Wait . . . what?”
“Janet. Ruthie doesn’t know what happened to her. She could be anywhere, right? And you have the exact tool to find her.”
“I repeat, what?”
“Your filmmaking.” Britta gestured at the camera on the dresser. “Did you ever see the thing where the kid made a viral video to get his mother a boyfriend? Maybe you could make a video about Ruthie and Janet, to help them find each other.”
“Um, how would that work?” She’d taken the pill, but now Britta’s enthusiasm was giving Spider a headache. “I mean, how would anyone see it?”
“You made that suicide prevention video, right?”
Spider nodded, then twisted her neck.
“So how many views did that get on YouTube?”
“Um, I’m not sure.” Spider knew exactly how many it had gotten, at least up until she’d left Long Island and Wi-Fi, seven hundred twenty-seven, which she thought was pretty good. But maybe Britta was one of those social media types with thousands of followers, who’d think seven hundred was nothing. “A few hundred?”
“Shut your mouth—you know it’s more than that. I looked it up last night, and it had close to a thousand. And the video was incredible, by the way. I can see why you won.”
“Oh . . . .” Britta watched her video? She’d had on headphones in the car on the drive back, and Spider had been enjoying the peace and quiet. If she’d known Britta was watching, judging her, she’d have freaked out. “So you liked it?”
“It literally made me cry. I shared it too.”
“It made you cry?”
“Is that not what you were going for?”
The video had been teenage girls reflecting on their suicide attempts and how their lives had improved since then. She’d interviewed dozens of survivors for the script, and the girls in the scout troop her mother had forced her to stay in had acted it out. “Actually, I was going for people not killing themselves, but crying is also good.”
“Anyway, it was so good, and if you got that many views, imagine what you’d get for a cool topic like true love.”
Spider was just putting together what Britta was saying. “So you want me to make a video about my grandmother to help her find Janet?”
“Isn’t that such a great idea?”
“But how would we get people to watch it?” Despite herself, despite the fact that it was Britta’s idea and therefore bad, Spider was kind of excited. She could use her filmmaking to help Ruthie. “We’d have to tell Ruthie before we post it. I mean, she might not like it.”
“Agreed. But let’s make it first, so she can judge. You worry about the video, I’ll research how to make it go viral. Can we go to town today and use the internet, maybe the library?”
Spider arched her back. Maybe. Like, maybe she’d get out of bed today. The library seemed like a stretch. “Sure. Maybe tomorrow, though?”
“Okay. And hey, do you think they’d have any yoga DVDs we could watch on your computer? I’m really messed up from climbing yesterday, so I was thinking I’d start on a monthlong program of self-improvement, eat healthy, yoga in the morning, fresh air.”
“I guess.”
“And . . . you could join me if you wanted?”
Now Spider saw Britta’s game. She was trying to help her without letting Spider know that’s what she was doing. Spider had done enough yoga to know it wasn’t going to cure her. Yet, somehow, she didn’t mind that much.
“Yeah. We can probably do that. Just let me think. Maybe you can ask Ruthie to pretty please make me an omelet with cheese and onions? And, actually, I think we have yoga DVDs somewhere. My mom does yoga.”
Possibly, a little happy baby would help her lower back, not that she’d admit it.
43
Meredith
Essay topic: What is your favorite recording?
A NEW MOON. Meredith had wondered why that was important in the days since Harmon had said it. Now, it was almost time to find out.
“Got a date?” Spider asked when she saw Meredith leaving that evening.
Meredith sucked in her breath through her teeth. Might as well just deal with it. “Yes, I do.” Then, before Spider could pitch a fit, she added, “I like him. He’s nice.”
Spider shrugged. “No accounting for taste. Just thought it would be nice to all hang together.”
“That would be nice. We will definitely all go hiking. But now . . .” There was a knock. “Oh, gotta go.” Meredith opened the door and slipped out. Harmon stood there grinning.
“Perfect timing,” she said. “I was just admitting I knew you.”
“Maybe someday I’ll get inside,” he said.
Meredith laughed. “You were there when you caught the bat.”
“As a guest, not an exterminator.”
Meredith carried Harmon’s hoodie. She’d worn a long-sleeved shirt in case he asked for it back. But he didn’t ask. He wore a green fleece jacket that brought out the greenish flecks in his hazel eyes. When they reached the car, she said, “Where are we going?”
“See some fireworks.” Harmon started the engine.
“Oh. The Fourth of July is over.”
“Not that kind of fireworks,” Harmon said.
Meredith had no idea what he meant, but after the other day, she decided to let the evening unfold. She trusted him.
At least, she thought she did. When he pulled onto Route 9, he turned north to an area even more secluded than where they were. “I was thinking, we should go bowling sometime,” he said.
She laughed. “I’d kick your butt.”
“I’m counting on it. I think I’d like to see you in your natural habitat.”
Meredith thought that her natural habitat was more likely the library, but Harmon didn’t have to know that.
“Besides,” he said. “I bet you could kick some other people’s butts if we played as a team. Sort of a secret weapon.”
“I’d enjoy that very much,” Meredith said.
They drove through a town smaller than the one where they’d gone to the supermarket, passing a group of teens clustered outside the lone pizza place. Harmon turned onto another rural route. Meredith saw nothing in the distance but road, trees, and hills. She wanted to ask where they were going but decided not to. She needed to take more risks in her life. Or some risks, at least.
After another five minutes, during which they saw few houses, Harmon turned onto a road that said “Farmer’s Hill.” The sun had begun to set, the sky to pinken. Harmon turned on his headlights and drove uphill. When they reached the top, he said, “Get out. Have a look around while it’s still light. I’ll set up my equipment.” He took out his camera bag.
“Tell me if you see any stars,” he added.
Meredith trotted to an open spot where no trees blocked her view. The clouds were turning red, and there were two mountains in the distance. She wondered how tall they were, how far. She surveyed the horizon for stars, like Harmon had said, though it seemed too early. Then, one appeared. Or maybe it had always been there, and she’d just noticed it, low in the sky between the two mountains.
She turned back and found Harmon right behind her. “Oh!”
“Sorry. Did I startle you?” He held the camera bag and tripod.
“I didn’t hear you. I was so engrossed in looking for stars.” She pointed at the sky. “I think I found one.”
“That’s actually Jupiter.” He took a few steps back and put down the tripod. “It’s out early this time of year. I’m going to set up a little farther back, but I thought I could take a picture of us before it gets too dark—if you don’t mind.”
He gestured that she should stand where she was, between the two mountains. Then he set up his camera a few feet away, explaining that there was a timer. He stood bes
ide her and they smiled. At the last minute, she thought she should put her arm around him. Would that be weird? Instead, she leaned her head close in. The shutter clicked.
He went to look at it. “Perfect. I’ll send it to you later.”
“So now are you going to tell me what we’re doing up here?” It hadn’t escaped her attention that it was going to be pitch-dark soon.
“I forgot I hadn’t told you.” He picked up the tripod and moved it closer to where they’d been standing. Then he crouched down to its level and looked into the camera. “I’m photographing star trails.”
“You say that as if I know what that means.”
“You will soon.” He adjusted the angle of the camera. “It’s a sort of time-lapse technique where you take a bunch of photos of the stars at short intervals so you can see them change position. Then, you use a computer to stack the images.” He rummaged in his backpack.
“This is like a foreign language,” Meredith said.
He held out a photo. “It ends up looking like this.”
The photo showed the night sky over a farmhouse. It looked like a real version of Van Gogh’s Starry Night, with swirls of white light filling the blue sky.
“You took that? It’s beautiful.” It was. Breathtaking. Meredith could do many things, but nothing artistic like this, and she was in awe of it.
Harmon straightened his shoulders. “I wanted to try tonight because you can see the most stars when there’s no moon. Now, if you can help me . . .”
“How?”
He took her by the shoulder and led her close to where they’d stood before. “Stand right there and hold your head up.”
She obeyed, and he trained the camera on her face.
“Why?” she asked.
“That’s where the North Star will be. I came out here last night to check.” He gestured that she could move. “Take a look through the lens.”
She did. Through the lens, she could see two pines and a rock in the foreground, a mountain farther away. It all served as a frame for the red canvas of the sky. The sun was almost fully set, the stars beginning to appear.
“It looks cool,” Meredith said. “But will you be able to see the trees and stuff?”
“Good question.” Harmon pulled a flashlight, the big lantern kind, from his backpack. He propped it up, then turned it on so it shone up on the trees. Then, he went to his truck and brought out two folding chairs. He set them up behind his camera. “Have a seat, milady.”
“You are quite the Boy Scout, aren’t you? Always prepared.”
“I brought a thermos of hot chocolate, in case you get cold.”
“I think I’m okay for now.” Meredith stuck her hands into the pockets of his hoodie, which she’d donned in the car.
“I see that. I came prepared anyway.”
Meredith looked out at the trees, swaying in the sinking sun. “What do we do now?”
“We wait. Maybe I put on some music?”
“That would be nice.”
Next thing she knew, Coldplay’s “A Sky Full of Stars” filled the night air, wafting out over the darkling, fading world and out to the mountains, like the soundtrack of a movie.
Darkling. She’d actually thought that. No one, not even Meredith, used words like darkling, but the moment was so beautiful that it made her wax poetic, even in her mind.
“I’m gonna give you my heart,” the Coldplay singer (Meredith didn’t know his name; she was pretty proud of herself for knowing it was even Coldplay) sang against the setting sun.
“This is sublime.” Meredith sighed.
“I love that you use words like sublime,” Harmon said.
Meredith laughed out loud.
“What?” He sounded a little offended.
“It’s silly. A minute ago, I was thinking that it was darkling. Then, I thought no one uses a word like darkling.”
“No one but you.” He laughed. “What does it mean, exactly? I mean, I think I can guess from context.”
“It’s basically a fancy word for ‘getting dark.’”
“Darkling,” he repeated. “Darkling. I’ll have to think up reasons to say it. Hey, Mom, when’s dinner? I see it’s darkling outside.”
She knew he was making fun of her a little, but she didn’t mind. “The music is a nice touch,” she said.
“I made a themed playlist.” And sure enough, the next song was about counting stars.
He was wooing her, she thought, another crazy, old-fashioned word. And, because she was pessimistic, Meredith questioned it. Why? Why would he work so hard? For her? She couldn’t imagine.
Unless he was just weird in a way that matched her weird.
She decided to draw in a deep breath and enjoy it, enjoy watching the sky fill with stars like a roomful of people gradually showing up for a meeting.
The next song was an old one, the one that began, “Starry, starry night.”
“I know this is the theme of every middle school dance on the planet,” he said. “But I thought it was cool.”
“I never went to a middle school dance.” She wasn’t even sure they’d had any, other than the eighth-grade dance. If they’d had one, she’d probably have been in charge of it.
“Me neither,” he said.
“Is that true? You seem like the type of guy who’d go to a dance.”
“Maybe one. But my mother made me go.”
The sun sank below the mountains as more and more stars became visible. Harmon stood to press a button to start his camera. Meredith heard it click, and Harmon returned to his seat as the singer sang, “How you suffered for your sanity . . .”
“This is so dark,” Meredith said. “The song. I never listened to the lyrics before.” She’d always thought it was a romantic song. Now, she realized it was about Van Gogh’s suicide.
Harmon nodded, and a few feet away, the shutter clicked again. “I know. That’s why I like it. He was a dark guy, Van Gogh. An artist.”
“Do you have a dark side?” Meredith said.
“I guess everyone does, right? Maybe artists most of all. It’s hard to find the right balance where you’re happy with what you’re doing and still striving to do better.”
Meredith settled back into her chair, listening and looking at the starry sky.
“Do you have a dark side?” Harmon asked after a moment.
She didn’t answer, not right away. Harmon had been right. The sky was darker than dark, no moon at all, no lights in the distance like at home, and only the flashlight illuminating a short way ahead of them. But behind and all around them was blackness, and up in the sky were millions of stars. Every time Meredith thought she’d seen them all, she noticed something—hundreds of somethings—new. But she couldn’t see Harmon’s face in the darkness, and maybe that made it easier to talk, as if she was speaking to herself.
Finally, she spoke into the darkness. “Of course I have a dark side. My father died when I was little, and I guess when something like that happens, when someone says they’re coming to get you at five and then they never come, that really messes with your trust. You know?”
He nodded. She could barely make out his outline inches away, but he didn’t speak, waiting for her to go on. An electronic-sounding song came on. Its lyrics were about being made of stars.
She continued. “I don’t mean trust people but, you know, trust the world. Trust that things will work out for the best, you know? Like, be an optimist. I don’t know if everyone has a dark side. My friend, Britta—I don’t think you met her—she seems like she just sees the best in people, assumes everything will be fine. And she’s probably right. But me, I lie awake at night worrying. That’s why I work my butt off in school and in activities, so I won’t mess up. And when something goes right, I wonder, what’s the catch? How will it fail?”
“What would happen if you didn’t? Like, if you just did what you wanted?”
Violins filled the air and then, a soft voice. Nat King Cole. “Stardust.” Man, he had rea
lly thought this out.
“I love this song,” she whispered as Nat King Cole sang,
Now my consolation
Is in the stardust of a song.
“I’m glad,” he said.
After a moment, she said, “But I was optimistic coming here this summer. Or, at least, I stopped being cautious.”
“And how’d that work out?” His voice floated through the pitch-darkness.
She stared out at the sky filled with so many stars. “I’m up here, at the top of a hill, looking at stars with a handsome guy. Maybe I’ll write that if a college application asks what I did the past two summers.” Several of them actually did.
“Will you write that I’m handsome?” Meredith heard laughter in Harmon’s voice.
“Probably not.”
“What do you think of the guy?” he asked as an old big-band song came on. Meredith thought it was something about moonlight.
“I like the guy,” Meredith said. “I like him a lot.”
“Do you?” He leaned closer to her as the mournful clarinet filled the starry sky.
“I do.” She leaned in toward him.
Their lips brushed. He pulled her closer, the trombones wah-wahed, the camera shutter clicked, the stars shone, and they kissed, standing simultaneously and embracing, enveloped in the music.
Out of the corner of her eye, Meredith saw a flash of red and blue behind them.
She twisted to look just as a white chrysanthemum shape erupted in the sky. “Wow. Literal fireworks when you kissed me.” They must be left over from the Fourth.
“You see them too? I thought maybe they were just in my head.”
“Then they’re in my head too.” But it was, Meredith had to admit, ridiculously perfect.
Harmon must have read her thoughts because he said, “Remember this moment the next time you think nothing works out.”
“I will,” she said as he kissed her again under the sky full of stars and the fireworks and the music of the darkness, and for that moment, she gave in to it, gave in to the sublimity of it all and didn’t wonder, didn’t question if there was a catch. There was no catch. For once, everything was perfect.
And Meredith thought, maybe this is the girl I’m meant to be, not the drone who does nothing but study, but a girl who kisses a handsome, funny guy on a perfect, starlit night.