by B. C. Tweedt
“Next tip: Bend y’ah knees and put most of the weight on your front foot. You’ve got nice calves, so you’ll have a strong foundation.”
She’d noticed. “Thanks. You have nice calves, too.”
She smirked. “Thanks. Wish I had yours, though. Do you wax them?”
“Nope. Naturally smooth. You?”
“Yeah. Oth’awise they’re like sandpap’ah.”
He laughed. “Sandpaper, huh? Ouch.”
“You’ll be fine as long as you don’t touch them.”
“No promises.”
Her cheeks flushed red and a few kids turned their heads. She ignored them. “You are something else…”
“Yup. And you are…?”
“Avery.”
“Avery? Is your last name ‘PrettyGirl’?”
She giggled. “No, but thanks! But I don’t really like the name. You don’t like y’ah teeth – I don’t like my name.”
She noticed I hid my teeth?
“Oh. Well, while we’re saying what we don’t like, I have a twin brother.”
“Ah. What’s his name?”
“Chandler.”
“Chandl’ah? Like the other charact’ah from Friends?”
“Yup.”
“Your parents must have liked that show.”
Why’d they let my parents choose the names? “Yeah. I have an adopted brother I’m ashamed of, too.”
“Ross?”
“You got it.”
She laughed just as a kid on the surfboard biffed hard; the water pounded into his back as his body skidded up the rounded blue hill.
Avery was next in line. After the kid had safely exited, the instructor grabbed another board for her. Before she stepped out, she turned back to Jarryd. “I’ll meet you right after you fall.”
“’Kay.”
He watched her step on the board and surf, earning the applause from all who watched her – except from him. He couldn’t move and couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Bent knees, tense thighs, toned arms, focused eyes. She was beautiful.
And he was in love.
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The unlit room still managed to glow with the yellowing light of sunset shining through the balcony’s sliding glass door. Sydney’s video call with Sam had started outside as soon as her parents had unpacked, but as soon as they had left to explore the ship, she had moved the conversation inside.
“Goooood afternoon, sailors!”
The chipper voice from the ship-wide intercom startled Sydney.
“Just a sec, Sam,” she whispered to the phone. Sam smiled on the video screen, listening as well.
“This is your Captain, Chip, welcoming you to the American Dream Ocean Liner. We are now departing Galveston. Say good-bye to the loved ones you left behind, but also say goodbye to stress, worry, and anxiety!”
“Aren’t those the same thing?” Sam whispered with a laugh.
“Shh!”
“And get ready to say hello to amusement, enjoyment, and fun!”
Sam snickered again.
Captain Chip continued, “Please use this time to unpack or to acquaint yourself with the ship. Be sure to read our Dream Guide or watch the video playing on Channel 9 for all the information you need about on-deck entertainment, dining, and room service. Also – get ready for an exciting presentation on emergency procedures! In just a few minutes, we will ask you to find your assigned muster station that is written in big red letters on your door. Reference your map, the arrows in the hallway, or any of our kind staff to help you get where you need to be. This is mandatory – but don’t worry – the fun gets better tonight with the All-Hands-On-Deck Departure Party at the AquaTheatre Stage at 7pm. Until then, this is Captain Chip signing out! Enjoy the ride.”
“He sounds…chipper.”
Sydney laughed.
“But didn’t he say American Dream? I thought you were on the American Spirit.”
She shrugged. “Guess they changed it. It’s going to Nassau, so that’s all that matters.” She looked out the balcony window as the ship began to pull away from the port. “And I don’t know how much longer I’ll have reception.”
Sam nodded solemnly in her phone’s screen. “Too bad we won’t be able to call or text for awhile.”
“Yeah. My parents are paranoid. Even though we don’t really use them anymore, they’re still holding our phones hostage as soon as we leave port.”
“Right. But it’s probably for the best. Every call or text or email will be filtered through the ship’s satellite dishes. I wouldn’t know how to bypass…well…nevermind. I’m paranoid, too.”
“Yeah, you are.”
He laughed. “Anyway, you’ve still got my letters. Those are like, ancient texts.”
She smiled, thinking of the package he’d sent her before she had left. The package had seven envelopes in it, each labeled with the date it was be opened. “Yeah. But it’s not fair. I didn’t get you anything.”
“Just come back safely. No matter what.”
She knew what he meant. He wanted her to come back whether or not she found Greyson. It was a long shot to find him, she knew, but she had to try.
“I will.” Sydney let the silence drift in afterward. But silences weren’t always awkward when talking to Sam. Over the last eight days, there had been plenty of opportunity to work through the awkwardness to the point where they were now. They’d video-called while doing chores, brushing their teeth, and even while just sitting and being bored together. He’d given her what she had needed – a friend who listened and cared when Greyson couldn’t.
Lying down on the bed, Sydney sighed and just smiled at the screen meekly. Sam smiled back, but he descended into contemplative mode – when Sydney noticed his eyebrows would clench and his mouth moved as if arguing with himself.
“What?” she asked. “What is it?”
“This sucks. I’ve gotten used to talking to you more. I’ve liked it.”
The words were flattering, but they cut at her defenses. It made her uncomfortable, and sad. But it felt good to be missed.
“Thanks,” she said, trying not to think too hard about it. “I’ve liked it, too.”
“Read that first letter.”
“Okay.”
“And just for fun…” he pressed his cheek to the phone’s camera.
Sydney laughed, but hesitated, looking at the close up of Sam’s cheek on the screen. It would just be an innocent peck. And she wouldn’t actually be kissing him. A friendly peck. Friends can kiss whenever they want…
But she couldn’t do it.
“Sorry. My phone’s been in my pocket, and…it’s kind of nasty.”
Sam tried not to look hurt. “No worries,” he said. “I’ll wait for the real thing in a week. Better find your mustard station.”
“Ha…ha. I will.”
“Good bye.”
“Bye.”
She stared at the screen until his face flickered and vanished. Even as twinges of guilt weighed her down, she hurried to her suitcase and pulled Sam’s first envelope out of a side compartment.
After a cautious glance at the door and a deep sigh, she removed the contents. It was a small picture of Sam. She turned it and read the pristine handwriting. “My favorite picture of myself. Make sure to bring it back to me.”
Smiling to herself, she gazed at his picture. He hadn’t wanted her to forget about him. He was so thoughtful. She wished she had thought to give him a picture of herself – at least the Polaroid one, even though her smile had been messed up. But it had gotten lost in the hasty move. She’d found the broken frame and the picture of her and Melinda, but the Polaroid hadn’t been in the trash bag. It had gone missing, or someone had…
And then she realized. Someone hadn’t wanted to forget about her.
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Sydney smiled at Greyson through the Polaroid. He had almost memorized her face by now. He liked the gentle slope of her nose with the perfectly round bulb at the end.
Her blue eyes were even more sparkly than usual, like the laughter she had been caught in was genuine. And her smile. He was often mesmerized by her lips. He’d remember the first time they half-kissed. The shock had sent shivers through his body. And then the time she’d fallen on him at the fair and given him a quick kiss. Maybe it had been out of relief – like a thank-you for the rescue. There had been nothing in the weeks afterwards. Maybe she’d been thinking more about Sam and how he’d stolen a kiss from her, too. Maybe she had liked Sam’s kiss better.
He shook off the thought and wiped his hand over his freshly cut hair, feeling the tug at his scalp.
“Like it, Syd?”
Sydney’s smile meant she liked his haircut – thought it was even cuter than before. Greyson smiled back.
The cut-hair lay in brown clumps around his log-seat and would provide good nesting materials for the birds. His knife had worked really well, he thought, and he hadn’t even cut himself.
And now, he would be harder for people like the gas station cashier to recognize him. Though the change of hair length probably wouldn’t make too much difference, at least it wouldn’t get as dirty as it had before.
He felt so much better, like he was a new person. Maybe it had been the cold water or the brand of soap, but more likely it was how he felt about himself. Knowing he could talk to people without scaring them off made him feel normal again. Sure, since he’d been spotted he would have to abandon the idea of cleaning people’s windshields, but he could come back to the idea after he put a few more miles between them.
Greyson slid the Polaroid back into the Bible and stored it in his fanny pack. The picture of his father had made its way to his backpack to keep his place in his mother’s research papers – though he’d abandoned reading those for his Bible long ago.
Standing up and turning the fanny pack to his back, he adjusted the new holster for his slingshot. It was simple, but effective. Using a ripped coat he’d found in a dumpster, he had torn strips of material with button snaps on each end. With a few cuts and knots, he now had a simple holster that gave him access to his slingshot with a quick snap, and without fumbling through his fanny pack.
Encouraged by his success, he’d used the same material to make two other useful creations that attached to his fanny pack’s waistband. He’d made another snap to secure his hat for when he worried he might lose it to wind or water, and he’d crafted a small cloth pouch to hold three ball bearings for quick access. The fanny pack was becoming quite the utility belt, and he wore it proudly, like a soldier.
After making the final preparation – cinching his dinosaur blanket to the bottom of his backpack with twine – he pumped his eyebrows at Kit. “Ready, boy?”
Kit gave a sharp bark and wagged his tail.
Laughing, Greyson swung his backpack on and fit his cap over his chopped hair as he took a last glimpse of his surroundings. They were on the edge of a forested mountain, covered in maple trees, whose leaves looked like little flames, red and orange and yellow, wisping toward the sky. And there were thousands all around, like a forest fire frozen in time.
From this vantage, he could see the town tucked in the valley below, and even the roof of the car wash and gas station far off in the distance. Taller mountains lay in the direction he was headed, but he felt more confident to tackle them now. Though his clothes were still damp, he felt lighter now, cleaner. And thanks to four dollars worth of trail mix and jerky, he felt a new vigor. Everyday he was closer to finding his dad. Mile after mile, despite setbacks, brought him nearer. And now that the map he’d taken told him he was in Georgia, he knew he was only a state away from Florida.
“Come on, boy.”
They trekked all day on winding forested slopes, stopping for drinks and to rest their feet and paws, but their pace was strong and their attitudes positive. Greyson was happy – motivated with a new brand of confidence. He was on a mission. He had purpose. His dad was his goal, and the only thing he could do was take one step after the other.
On top of all that, there was the beaming sun and the glory of nature. At times their path would grant them a beauty he had never seen before. During the afternoon they stopped to admire the green peaks battling with brilliant white clouds in the crisp blue air. Though the wildlife was adept at avoiding them, and Kit was no good at catching them, every so often Greyson would stop and hush Kit, kneel low, and point them out – a river otter, a skittering shrew, two white-tailed deer watching from afar.
A few hours later they ran across a rushing stream babbling its way through the rocks. They drank from its frigid water, and Greyson managed to splash Kit enough to feel satisfied that it was as close as he could get to a bath.
All afternoon they trekked along the stream, until the sound of the water changed. It grew louder as it meandered to the distance beyond.
Greyson turned to Kit and then rushed along the shore, bounding over fallen branches. Kit followed closely and then ran ahead as they got closer. The dog stopped suddenly and Greyson skidded next to him. His eyes lit up with fascination. It was unlike anything he’d seen in Iowa. The stream ended in a shimmering waterfall, plummeting thirty or forty feet to a blue pool below.
After marveling at its beauty, it took Greyson only a few seconds to shed most of his clothes and do what every daring boy would do. He slapped the fear away and dove from the cliff into the best bath he’d ever taken. Though he had just had a fantastic shower, this was glorious. He let the fall’s water smash into his scalp and his shoulders – a powerful massage. He swam and dove to the bottom, testing its depth, and then kicked to the top.
GRRRRRRR…
He emerged to Kit’s growls. And then he heard voices.
Chapter 26
It’s them! Orion tracked me all the way here!
Startled, Greyson thrashed around uselessly, suddenly seized by memories of the night he’d searched for Sydney and Liam in the river. His arms felt like lead as the panic fought him. He felt as if Liam and Sydney’s weight were pulling him under. His fingers pulled at Liam’s, setting him free.
“Wow! Look at it!”
The voices were getting closer. But it wasn’t Orion and his brothers. They were tourists, marveling at the waterfall from afar.
He’d forgotten he was in a state park. Of course this would be a point of interest. Stupid!
Though it wasn’t Plurbs, tourists could be just as dangerous to his mission. He snapped from the nightmare and into action, racing out of the pool and up to his clothes just as the hikers came into view below. He hid and dried off, unseen.
As soon as he and Kit were able to sneak away, they left the waterfall behind, keeping their distance from the stream and the tourists.
He didn’t tell Kit why he had gotten so scared. The nightmares were already ruining his dreams; he couldn’t let them ruin his waking life as well. He had to forget them – put them away – far away, where they should be. To talk about them would let them invade even further.
“That was fun. We’ll have to come back someday.”
He smiled at Kit and took in a deep breath as they continued on in silence. Slowly, the distant sound of the stream and the chirping birds calmed him again. After a few hours, he’d forgotten all about the scare.
But then just before sunset, while crossing over a grassy ridge, he dropped to his knees. Across the ridge, on the alternate mountain, was a hulk of black fur bobbing around the trees.
“Black bear,” he told Kit.
Kit growled low and the hair rose along the spine of his back. Greyson put his hand on his back, keeping him put. “Stay. Don’t provoke him.”
But Kit kept growling, louder and louder.
“What, boy? Calm down. It’s okay; he’s far off. And he’s probably more scared of us than we are of – ”
And then the bear turned suddenly, staring straight at them. Greyson startled, realizing how exposed they were on the ridge.
He stood up to run when it happened.
WHUPWHU
PWHUPWHUPWHUP!
They had come upon them like a swarm of locusts, and the sound of their blades, once hidden behind trees, blanketed them with beats that rattled their insides. Helicopters, the type with long bodies and two separate blades, zipped across the sky in numbers he’d never seen.
His head craned upward to watch them soaring above in perfect formation. Dozens in a flock, heading to the west, not far above the trees, one after another, after another, after another.
“Whooooaaa. Cooool!”
Amazed, Greyson watched the swarm fly on without moving a muscle, though the beats of the blades rattled his chest. To them he was hopefully just another hiker. Besides, they were obviously not looking for him. They had somewhere else they needed to be – and fast.
After the last beat of their blades had faded into the distance, Greyson patted Kit on the head.
He growled one last time as if he had scared them away.
“You scared ‘em off. Well done.” He looked over his shoulder. “And the bear, too. You’re a scary animal.”
At least he thought the bear was gone. He hadn’t seen which direction he went. There was something scarier than seeing a bear – it was knowing one was close, but not seeing it. A chill went through his body, but he shook it off.
Kit was panting at his side, still proud of himself.
“Thirsty? I guess we should stop soon anyway. Find a good place to camp and hunt a little, maybe.”
He unzipped the backpack, retrieved his handy bark-bowl and poured Kit a good amount of stream water.
A rumble – deep and guttural – interrupted Kit’s drink and shook their bones. Tiny stones vibrated at his feet and a sound came from the trees just below the ridge.
Something else was coming.
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“WAAAAAAAAHHH!” Seven-year-old Asher gave his loudest roar, clawed with his T-Rex claws, and snapped with his T-Rex jaws. He was vicious, powerful – the King of All Beasts – and very hungry.
“No-oooo!”
His victim fell before him, helpless to do anything but squirm. Asher’s claws tore at the man’s belly and went for his ribs – his favorite food.