Worthy of Rain

by Elizaveta Fehr

  I suddenly regretted how rude I was to him that day. “I’m sorry,” I said. Jace didn’t answer.

  I opened the shoebox at the foot of the table and unwrapped a few more of the animals from their Bubble Wrap cocoons. “You did a great job. They’re beautiful.”

  Jace blushed. He sighed. “I was worried about what you’d think if you knew I’d made them. Like somehow it’d change how you saw me.”

  I brought my eyes to his. “How would that change how I saw you?”

  He held my gaze. “You’re pretty tough, Genesis. I guess I just wanted to look the same.”

  I was the first to break eye contact. Jace tapped a finger on his jeans thoughtfully and turned to me. “Look, I’m…sorry…about, well, last time. I shouldn’t have accused you like that.” He picked up a Siberian tiger and ran a finger over its spine.

  I placed the elephant back in the shoebox. “It’s fine,” I told him. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s good we have this started…” I trailed off.

  Jace had stopped listening, frowning at my wrist. I followed his gaze and noticed my mom’s keychain bracelet dangling from it. She was wearing it the night she died. I had worn it every day since.

  “What’s wrong?” I cast a glance at him.

  “How did you get that?” There was an edge of uneasiness in his question.

  “It was my mom’s.” I spun the bracelet around my wrist. “Why?”

  He paused a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing. It’s not really that important.”

  “Okay.” I raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t ask again.

  “So, we ready?”

  I nodded. We were going back to my house from the library. I’d told Jace to meet me here since it was easier and we’d walk together to my garage to start the diorama.

  We walked together to leave the library. As Jace held the door to let me out, I caught a glimpse of Aven going into a shop across the street.

  “Aven!” I shouted. She looked around and saw me. She started to wave, but her hand fell as she saw Jace standing next to me.

  I opened my mouth to say something, but she turned and disappeared into the shop before I could say anything else.

  “That was weird,” I said. “She usually says hi. Actually, she ghosted me at lunch too. I don’t know why she’s acting so weird.”

  “Maybe she just had to go in,” Jace said.

  “Maybe,” I echoed. I guess I could ask her about it tomorrow.

  It was a good day to be outside. The kind of day that warmed your skin and made you want to take your jacket off. Uncharacteristic for April, but maybe May weather was coming up closer this year.

  I stole a glance at Jace as we walked. He was busy scanning the canopies of the old sycamores lining the sidewalk. A small bit of anxiety rushed into my stomach.

  The library was different. There were people there and it was public. Now, I was going to be alone with Jace in my house. Dad was supposed to be home late, but I was still nervous he was going to come home and see Jace in our living room. After last time, I had no idea how he was going to react.

  We reached the end of my driveway.

  Our garage was so old I had to push the doors up manually, a skill I’d been able to master over the years. I tied the old string to a pipe to secure the doors and picked my way through forgotten Barbie dolls, play sets, and a massive rolled up rug. I got to the spray paints and tarps in the back after a few minutes of kicking aside random picture frames and watering cans. Separated from the house in a box-shaped building, the garage was used more for miscellaneous storage than housing a car.

  I carried the spray paints out in one trip. Jace helped me lay out the tarp on the driveway, and I left the garage door open to let the fresh air chase away its musty smell.

  “Okay, so we’re doing just plain old brown, right? For the ground?” He set the cans up so they wouldn’t roll.

  “Yes. Look, there’s one right here.” I held up a can with a dark brown lid. I shook it and popped the cap off.

  Okay, maybe this whole thing wasn’t so bad. We’d be busy with the project the entire time. We wouldn’t have to talk about specifics. He wouldn’t have to get to know me or anything.

  “Can you hand me that Styrofoam block?” I pointed to the block that was leaning against the garage.

  He handed it to me and I placed it on the tarp. Bending close, I positioned the spray can a few feet away from the Styrofoam. I told myself to relax. I was overthinking things. As usual. I was about to press down on the nozzle.

  “Wait!” Jace held his hands out for me to stop.

  “What?”

  “Sorry, it’s just, unless you want to spray yourself in the face, I suggest you turn the nozzle to face away from you.” He tried to hide a grin, but it escaped his lips before he could stop it.

  I looked down at the spray can and saw that he was right. I had been so preoccupied with my thoughts I hadn’t even noticed. I covered my creeping smile with my arm, but Jace had already seen it. He snorted, his brown curls shaking.

  “Shut up,” I teased him, turning the spray can away from myself and pointing it towards the Styrofoam. I pretended to turn the can towards him as he jerked back, laughing.

  “Uh-huh, not so funny now.”

  “Just spray the stupid thing already,” he countered.

  I obliged, moving the spray in sweeping strokes over the Styrofoam. I took a break to shake the can again. We watched as the spray paint got absorbed into the base, leaving barely a trace of brown on the surface.

  No, the Styrofoam was, in fact, far from brown. It was pink. Hot pink.

  Jace looked at me. I squinted at the can in my hand.

  “Luscious pink,” I read on the cover.

  “Good going,” Jace snorted. He saluted me.

  I rolled my eyes at him. “I’m sorry that my dad doesn’t put the right caps back on.”

  “You know, hot pink suits it. We can have a ground that’s pink. It won’t be historically correct, but it’ll make our presentation pop.” He spread out his hands in a wide arc at the word. A mischievous smile clung to his lips.

  I clenched my jaw and shook my head at him, trying not to smile. “You’re a real piece of work.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  I set the can down and rummaged through the other cans lying on the driveway.

  “We don’t have brown,” I finalized.

  “Did you check the words and not the caps?” Jace said smugly.

  I shot him a teasing glare. “I think we might have a brown paint though.” I disappeared into the garage. A moment later, I reappeared with a can and two brushes. “Thank goodness for chipped doorframes.”

  “My hero,” Jace joked, and I dropped one of the two paintbrushes on his head. “Last I checked, Superwoman didn’t hurt the people she saved.”

  “Would you paint already?”

  Jace held up his hands in mock surrender and dipped his paintbrush into the bucket. I copied him, starting on the other side of the Styrofoam.

  How did this arrogant, senseless brute become so…carefree? He had been nothing like this at school. I mean, not that I had witnessed, and that had been from a distance. But still, I didn’t know where the Jace I thought I knew had gone. I felt a deep guilt creep into my stomach. Admitting that I was wrong about Jace was the last thing I wanted to do, but that was just it. Maybe I was wrong.

  The sight of Jace’s mouth moving and no words coming to my ears pulled me to the present. “What?”

  “I said, ‘earth to Genesis.’ You’re out of it or something. You’ve been painting in the same spot for the last two minutes.”

  “Oh right.” I moved my brush over and continued my day dream. Suddenly, I felt a cold and wet substance trace down my skin. I looked swiftly to Jace, his brush running a long stroke of brown paint down my arm.

  “Oops,” he said sarcastically. He grinned at me and I saw a crease I’d never noticed before appear above his mouth.
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  I narrowed my eyes at him. “You should not have done that.” I quickly left a dab of paint on his nose before he could blink. I flipped my hair over my shoulder dramatically. “Now that we got that over with, can we keep paint—”

  I cut myself off as I saw Jace raising his brush. I backed up slowly. “Now, wait a second. Let’s think about this for a minute here.”

  Jace cocked his eyebrow. “No can do, princess.”

  I quickly pointed behind Jace. “Hey, what’s that?” Out of instinct he turned and immediately groaned as he realized his mistake. I seized my chance and sprinted past him, running towards the hose hooked up next to the house.

  “Aha!” I spun around, clenching the hose nozzle. Jace wasn’t there. Baffled, I lowered the hose.

  “Jace?” I called out tentatively.

  “Are you sure about that hose?” Jace leapt out from the garage, holding two BB guns in both hands like a character in a James Bond movie.

  “Okay, one, I’ve been looking everywhere for those, and two, if you hit me with a BB pellet I will personally hang you by your fingernails. Those things hurt.”

  Jace glanced at his fingers as if contemplating what that might feel like. I switched the hose to full blast. “But hey,” I winked. “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Showdown on three! One, two—”

  “Three!” I screamed. I blasted him full on in the face.

  Jace wiped the water out of his eyes and glared at me, dripping wet.

  “Not fair.” He shook his sopping hair. “Rematch.”

  “A fair rematch,” I said.

  Jace threw me a water gun and replaced his with a similar one. “Let’s try this again. One! Two! Th—”

  I screamed and I made a run for it. I laughed and sprinted around the garage, dashing through the fence gate.

  I could feel Jace closing in on me, but at this point, I was laughing so hard that I couldn’t breathe while running. I held up my hands as I collapsed onto the ground, letting him spray me. “Okay, I give up. You win.”

  “You’re such an easy loser,” he joked. He plopped onto the ground next to me and let the water gun drop next to him. His hair flopped to the side, revealing an old scar above his left eyebrow.

  “Where’d you get that from?” I said. I rubbed the scar with my thumb.

  He touched his forehead, as if he forgot it was there. “Oh, that’s…nothing. I hit my head when I was little.” He frowned as he rubbed it. I was shivering now; the spring weather was not quite warm enough for a water fight.

  “I’m so thirsty.” Jace said.

  “After all that? Didn’t you swallow enough water?” I poked him in the shoulder.

  “Why? You’re the one who’s soaked.”

  I punched him in the arm. “Come on.” I stood up and led him to the house.

  I held the screen door open with my hip while I opened the back door. “Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” I said as we entered into the kitchen. “It’s just me and my dad.”

  “Oh,” Jace responded by the door, a little hesitant. I shoved a pile of newspapers off the counter and opened the cabinet for a glass.

  “Is it okay if I use your bathroom?”

  I looked back at him. “Yeah, sure. Use the one in the basement, though. We don’t have carpet down there.”

  Jace looked down at his wet jeans.

  “Good call.” He pointed at me and clicked his tongue before disappearing down the stairs.

  I poured two glasses of water, then switched my cup to juice. My hair was already starting to dry in crusty sections. I grimaced and try to brush it with my fingers. After ten minutes, I placed my empty glass back on the counter. What was taking him so long?

  Jace’s glass in hand, I padded lightly down the steps, peeking around the corner of the basement stairs.

  The den was dark save for a bit of light leaking in from the windows.

  “Jace?”

  I got to the bottom of the stairs and started to round the corner that led into the TV area. I was about to call out again when I saw him. His back was turned to me, but his body was angled just enough that I could see him holding something in his hands.

  I stepped closer.

  Was that…a picture frame?

  The glass fell from my hand and crashed onto the wooden floor.

  Jace jumped up, startled, and whirled around. His mouth opened and he glanced at the picture frame in his hands. The picture of my mom and my dad holding me as a baby.

  “Why do you have that?” There was ice in my words. I walked towards him and ripped the picture out of his hands. “Are you going through our drawers? We’ve never kept this out. Ever.”

  Jace’s face went red in the dimness of the basement. “I-I just found it. I thought she looked familiar. I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered.

  Well, Jace. Your perfect self…finally at a loss for words.

  He ran both hands through his curls. “Look, I’m really sorry—”

  “I think you should go.” My voice was unrecognizable.

  “But I…” Jace trailed off. He dropped his hands to his sides.

  I didn’t look him in the face. Finally, after a moment that felt like a lifetime, he walked to the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.

  The screen door slammed behind him. And for the first time that day, I shivered in the darkness of the den.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  I had the glass cleaned up and my hair dry by the time my dad pulled in the driveway. I finished the base, coating whatever was left that we didn’t paint.

  It wasn’t as fun by myself.

  Dad took the key out of the ignition. “Where’s your partner? I thought you two were working on it together.”

  I pulled down on the rope to the garage door and sealed it shut. “He had to go home.”

  My dad slung his satchel around his shoulder. “So you did that all by yourself?”

  I followed him to the back entrance to the house. “No, he just left early. There wasn’t much left to do anyway.”

  “What’s his name again?”

  “You don’t know him,” I lied.

  “Ah,” my dad commented. “Was school okay?”

  “Mhm.”

  He glanced my way but didn’t say anything else.

  I felt bad about lying. I thought about telling him about Jace and the picture. Maybe he’d have some insight or help me sort out everything that was spinning around in my head.

  I closed the back of the kitchen door that we’d left open. In the backyard, the water guns were still cast aside under the oak tree.

  No, maybe now wasn’t the best time to tell him. I had to figure this all out myself.

  I picked up the Bible and leafed through its worn pages to a random story. I needed something to help me forget about today, something that would take me to a time period other than my own.

  I started to read, and the room spun in dizzying circles before it came to an abrupt stop.

  I opened my eyes.

  He was bent over a corpse. White cloth wrapped around an unmoving body. Stone altar buried halfway in the dirt. The sun was flitting red fingers over the hills in what was left of the sunset.

  I tried to be discreet as I looked around. A woman next to me opened her mouth, silently mourning. I shuddered. Other weeping families knelt around the altar, faces wet with tears and eyes as red as the sky. I could tell by their matted hair, filthy clothes, and hunched backs that they’d been there for a while.

  I was at a funeral.

  I couldn’t get a good look at my surroundings in the middle of this crowd. Slowly, I rose from my kneeling position, taking care to avoid stepping on legs or hands or hair. Finally, I reached the back of the crowd. The hills stretched out in rolling waves, like someone took a picture of the sea and painted it brown and green. I’d never seen such an open expanse of land before.

  And the mourners. Parts of the mob were scattered over the hills and disappeared behind valleys. Whoever had died must have been
really important.

  My attention snapped to the man bent over the wrapped figure as he spoke.

  “I know we’ve been mourning for a long while. It is difficult to leave our good friend and leader, but our time of grieving is finished.”

  The moaning crowd erupted into a new kind of frenzy.

  “Who will lead us?!”

  “Moses knew what to do. Who is supposed to help us now?”

  “Moses led us to wander in these lands for forty years! And for what? So the generations that were rescued from Egypt could die off?”

  The man at the center of the crowd silenced the crowd with a separation of his hands. The voices quieted down to a lower volume.

  “Moses,” he began firmly, “was like no other prophet. He led us out of the cruel hands of Egypt and performed God’s miracles like no other man. We all know why we’ve been punished to wander the desert aimlessly. You speak out of turn when you criticize God’s plan.”

  He continued after the crowd had quieted some more. “The Lord will bury him here in Moab, in a valley close to Beth-peor. It’s been thirty days since his death and our time for grieving is done. We will wait for the Lord’s command. Until then, stay in the camp.”

  Slowly, the crowd began to disperse, climbing the hill. Their black silhouettes stood out in the late evening light. A few stars were appearing in the sky.

  I didn’t know whether to follow them or stay where I was. I morphed into the shadows, watching intently. After most of the crowd had disappeared over the hill, I started to make my way in the direction they went. The small rise of the hill didn’t take long to climb over. A sudden burst of the last bit of light caught my eyes, which was probably why it took me a second to realize what I was standing over.

  The landscape was breathtaking. The desolate plain contrasted with low hummocks that rolled across the terrain, dipping softly. The land was dry and dusty, save for a few patches of grass here and there. The bushes were tough and poked through the soil and rocks in scattered patterns. But if you closed your eyes and pulled back the image from your mind, the land was inferior to the grandeur of the star-speckled sky—like salt on a chalkboard.

  “That’s it. The Promised Land,” a man’s voice spoke behind me.