rock

by Anyta Sunday

  Jace groans. I hope for his sake no onions are required. I’ve seen him cutting onions, and the colorful language that escapes his mouth as he dices is not pretty. He hates onions. He claims he can smell them for days afterward, and that it makes the piano keys stink when he practices.

  When Lila leaves I slink up to Jace. He is concentrating on pouring in the washing powder but he twitches when I stand next to him.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I say softly.

  “Yeah, I did,” He shuts the lid of the washing machine. “You were about to get really mad at my mum. She already has a hard enough time with Annie.” He starts the machine and turns around.

  He was doing this for her, not me? I back away, hitting my hip against the sink. I’m embarrassed about how I acted toward Lila.

  Jace rests against the machine and stares at me. Heat races to my cheeks, and I stammer, wishing to God I’d hung the stupid clothes out to dry this morning. “Sorry,” I mumble as I spin for the door.

  In two steps, Jace has my arm. “Don’t get like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’ll avoid me for the rest of the week now.”

  I’d like to lick my wounds in private, thank you. “Avoid you? Hardly possible.”

  “You won’t hole yourself away in your room the whole evening?”

  Yes, yes, I’d like to do that very much. “Of course not.”

  Dammit.

  Jace’s grip loosens, and his fingers slip off me one by one. “Good. Because if I’m doing your chores all week, I want you at my beck and call.”

  “Your beck and call?”

  Mischief lights his blue eyes. He may as well start rubbing his hands together the way he’s looking at me. I can hear the maniacal laughter. “Yeah. I might have a few chores of my own that need doing.”

  I shake my head but I’m grinning. How can he have this effect on me? “You’re going to milk this, aren’t you?”

  “Like a cow.”

  “Jace,” Lila calls from the kitchen. “Start with the onions.”

  * * *

  The entire meal, Jace stares at me with an evil, I’m-going-to-punish-you stare.

  Dad taps his fork against his wine glass. “Listen up, kids.”

  I elbow Annie in the side when she mutters something about not being a kid anymore. After what Jace told me about his mum, enough is enough. It’s time Annie accepts our new life.

  “Lila and I have thought this over,” Dad continues, smiling warmly at Lila. His eyes dance with joy. “This weekend we’re taking our third family trip.”

  Annie’s chair squeaks, but other than that she says nothing.

  “What? Where?” I ask. I kind of hope we might go hiking again like we did last year. Abel Tasman rocked. I smother a chuckle at my wit.

  “We decided on something outdoorsy—”

  “White-water rafting!” Lila bursts out.

  Dad squeezes her hand. “It’s a two-day trip. Our gear will be transported to our camping site for us. So we’ll be tenting.”

  “Tenting?” Annie asks. “Like, all together?”

  “Well, no,” Dad says. “We have two double tents and a single. We thought the boys could share a tent, and you could have your own.”

  Lila says, “Unless you want to share with your dad. I’m happy to have the single one to myself.” She tries to engage Annie with a smile.

  Annie shrugs. “I’m good with the single.”

  It’s quiet for a moment. I fork a piece of broccoli and pop it into my mouth. The onion-garlic taste makes me smirk. I glance toward Jace’s hands curled around his knife and fork. He’s glaring at Annie, and I know exactly what he’s thinking.

  “I think it sounds awesome,” I say cheerily. I mean it, even though I’m cheering more boisterously than I normally would.

  I excuse myself after we finish eating, but I don’t make it up three stairs before Jace calls my name.

  He dries his hands on the tea towel thrown over his shoulder. “Since I have to slave in the kitchen,” he says, “you have to do the same in my room.”

  “Your room?”

  “It’s a bit of a mess. Clean it up, would you?” He flashes a wide, mocking smile before returning to the kitchen.

  For a second I contemplate ignoring his command, but I don’t.

  His room isn’t bad. The bed is unmade and some clothes and shoes are lying around, but his desk is orderly. It’s dark in here even though I switched the light on when I came in. His dark grey room features one turquoise wall. Cozy. I fight the desire to nestle into his blankets and curl up to sleep.

  I get to work cleaning. With every breath, I inhale more of Jace. It’s a slightly-sweet citrus smell, like oranges. His bedclothes feel softer than mine, well worn. I bring the cover up to my chin and nuzzle against it—but I instantly realize how weird of me that is to do.

  I stop nuzzling and start making the bed.

  The white splotches on his sheets make me blush. I try not to think too much about what a sixteen-year-old boy does up here, but the more I force the thought from my mind, the more elaborate is the imagery.

  Bed made, I stuff his clothes into the hamper and straighten his shoes. I yank out one of his Chucks that’s wedged halfway under the bed, and a few magazines slide out with it.

  I blink at the porn in front of me.

  It’s the standard stuff that Ernie and Bert like to laugh at and get kinky with. I want to laugh but it’s not funny. It’s almost—enraging. I don’t understand why this discovery angers me so deeply. Not true, Cooper. And you know it.

  My throat tightens; I shake my head and grit my teeth against that voice in my mind—

  Jace clears his throat behind me. “I changed my mind,” he says. “I don’t want you to clean my room.”

  I can’t pull away from the magazines. Big-breasted women in slutty bikinis wink at me like they know exactly what I want. Bitches don’t have a clue!

  And why is that?

  Shut up!

  Jace crouches next to me and pries a magazine I didn’t even know I’d picked up from my hand. He frowns and shifts. “I mean, if you want to borrow one—”

  “No! Fuck off.”

  I stand abruptly. I can’t look at him. Can’t look at his bed. Can’t breathe his citrusy air anymore. I stumble out of his room, shove on a pair of shoes, and hurry outside. I need . . . I need . . . I need a stone.

  But I’m too close to the house. Its lights are illuminated as though it’s watching me. Judging me.

  I can’t stand it. I have to get away. I jog along the stream through the pines, toward the cave. The wind sluices over my recently cut hair and tunnels down the arms of my green Koru T-shirt—the one Dad bought me for Christmas. The one that Annie said brings out my eyes in a wicked cool way and had Jace staring extra hard at me.

  A stupid tear hovers in the corner of my eye, but I swipe it away as I duck into the cave.

  The glowworms are extremely bright, but their magic takes a while to settle over me. When it finally does, I feel like I’m standing on the edge of that cliff again, about to fall. Thrills zip up my middle, stirring my cock.

  I raise my arms and stand on my tippy toes to imagine the rush of falling into the stars.

  Every inch of my skin tickles with shivers just like the last time I came here when Jace was at the creek, singing . . .

  I drop my arms and snap out of the memory. It doesn’t matter anyway. He didn’t even know I was listening.

  I sit on the floor of the cave, pick up a smooth stone, and hug my knees, willing the glowworms to rearrange themselves into an answer. An answer to my questions. How do I stop feeling like this? How do I stop that voice in my head that lies to me and tries to confuse me all the time?

  The worms don’t move. Neither do I. Not for a long time. I feel the heat of Jace’s whisper before I hear it. “You’re supposed to be at my beck and call.”

  I don’t turn around. “What do you want?”

 
“Why are you hiding?”

  “I’m not.” I grip my stone harder.

  He settles next to me, hugging his knees too. His arm bumps against mine, but I continue staring at the glowing green walls. “Why aren’t we friends?” he asks. “Why do we pretend we don’t like each other?”

  “You give me a dirty look every morning. You tell me.”

  I hear him shrug. “I don’t know. It’s easier.” He turns to look at me. His hot gaze on my cheek pulls me to face him, but I resist. “I know we were forced into each other’s lives, but, I mean, I would have chosen you if I’d had the chance.”

  My breath hitches, and a shy smile stretches his lips.

  “I mean, if I hadn’t known you,” he says, “and you stopped to talk to me that first time at school? I would’ve tried harder to hang out with you. I mean, you were odd.” At this, he laughs softly. “I was surprised by the nose butt to my knee, but I liked you. And the Music Rocks T-shirt you wore is sort of funny now that I know you.”

  “I don’t remember the T-shirt.” The stone falls from my sweaty grip and I fumble for it again.

  I would have chosen you.

  My heart races as his words skate over every inch of my skin.

  “What do you say, Cooper?”

  I’m too fast to grab the hand he offers, and I hold it too tightly. I’m scared he can somehow hear that traitorous, whispering voice through my touch and he will quickly let me go. “Can we keep the dirty looks?” I ask.

  He laughs. “With you, I think it’d be hard not to.”

  mudstone

  White water rafting is terrifying. I’m being knocked around like a lollipop in a piñata, and for whatever goddamn reason, I’m hooting like I’m having the time of my life. The complexities of the mind: I will never understand it.

  Our boat bounces over the rapids, swinging wildly. I clutch the paddle against my lap so I don’t lose it again. At the front, Annie and Dad are laughing like wet hyenas, while Lila and our guide are enjoying an amused silence. Jace looks like he’s going to be sick. Every time we’re close to a rapid, his posture stiffens and his eyes shut like he wants it to end.

  The boat dips abruptly, bashing me against Jace’s side. I grab his lifejacket so he doesn’t tip overboard. Another wave lurches into the boat, drenching Jace’s swimming shorts.

  “This is it,” he mutters. “I see the news already. Seventeen-year-old boy drowns on the Waikato River.”

  “Sixteen. Birthday isn’t for another month.”

  He pinches my thigh and I yelp. At least he’s smiling now.

  The rapids calm and we’re back to paddling. Jace asks how much longer until the campsite, and Dad’s answer elicits a groan. I chuckle at his whininess.

  “Don’t worry,” I tell him with a cocky smirk. “You can hold my hand.”

  Annie and Lila laugh, which is the first time I’ve ever heard them laugh at the same time. Shockingly, they share an almost-friendly glance.

  “This was a great idea,” Dad says with a large inhale. “Fresh air and exercise. And look at the beauty.”

  Dad’s right. The deep-turquoise water glows and its surface shimmers gold under the sun. A hint of a breeze protects us from overheating. Like Dad, I breathe in the smell of the river, the sunscreen, and all the good moods around us. Save Jace’s, of course.

  When the next rapid approaches, we pull in our paddles. Jace grabs the back of my hand and curls his fingers through mine, clutching tightly.

  I stare at our hands on my thigh.

  “You volunteered.” Jace’s grin instantly disappears as our raft bobs and twists.

  This time, the Level 4 white-water waves exhilarate me, but the heat of Jace’s palm and his sharp nails scratching into my skin excite me more.

  The rapid lasts forever, yet it feels like the shortest bloody rapid there ever was.

  When it ends and Jace pulls away, I tell myself I’m glad it’s over.

  But you liked it. You really liked it.

  Leave me alone! Jace is practically my stepbrother.

  It’s not as though you’re actually related.

  He’s also a boy.

  Come on, I thought we were past this.

  I’m quiet the rest of the day until we return to the campsite. After I help pitch the tents, I decide to bugger off on my own.

  I find a cozy nook downstream that has its own riverbed, a small half-moon of pebbly shore. The stones hold the warmth of the day’s heat, and I lie on them like a starfish to soak it up.

  I empty my mind by thinking of nothing at all. I snatch up the first stone I find and drain all my negative thoughts and feelings into the stone.

  Annie finds me an hour later. “What’s up, bro?” She sits next to me and gently peels my fist open. “That’s pretty with the white layers,” she says.

  I sit up and look at it for the first time. Beautiful, smooth and curved like the nook we’re sitting in or Cheshire Cat’s mysterious smile. Did the secrets I poured into it make it appear that way? “Mudstone, I think. With a tiny quartz vein, see?”

  “Looks too nice to be called mudstone.”

  “Mudstone comes in lots of colors and shapes. Makes up sixty-five percent of sedimentary rock.”

  “Hmm,” Annie says. “Anyway, dinner’s ready. I was sent to drag you back.”

  “What is it?”

  “Couscous.”

  “What’s up with you?” I lean an arm against her shoulder.

  Her straggly wet hair presses against my skin as she rests her head on me. “I’m stubborn,” she says quietly.

  “You can say that again.” I press my forehead against the top of her head to let her know I love her anyway.

  “I don’t know how to stop.”

  She starts to cry. Small wracking sobs that jerk her body.

  “Hey, hey,” I say, desperately trying to think of calming words. “It’s not too late to make a change.”

  “B—but I can’t. I’m a big bitch and I can’t help it.”

  “You’re not a big bitch.”

  Annie giggles, which soon turns into hysterical laughter. Her eyes are shut tightly, her nose squishes as laughter peels back her smiling lips, and tears stain her red cheeks.

  I clutch my stone and Annie’s laughter echoes in my hand. I know I’ll feel it every time I touch the stone in the future.

  Annie’s laughter finally fades and she tilts her head at me. “I’m going to stop being a bitch. I don’t want to screw up any more of my relationships.”

  “Any more?” I sense a story here.

  She laughs again but it’s a pained one. “Boyfriend dumped me. Said I was too passive-aggressive and bitchy. I wish I hadn’t lost my virginity to him. Oh well. Better now than at university next year, I guess.”

  “Sorry. That sucks.” This chat is quickly moving into awkward territory.

  She doesn’t seem to feel the weirdness because she keeps going. “Here’s a tip for when you get a girlfriend: don’t dump her two days after taking her flower. Don’t take it in the first place.”

  I’m quiet. Too quiet, apparently. Annie sits up suddenly and I have to fight to maintain focus on my Cheshire stone.

  “Cooper?”

  I pick myself up. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She doesn’t take the bait. “Cooper—”

  “Dinner’s ready, right?”

  She lifts a hand and I pull her up. She tightens her grip when I’m about to let go. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m here if you need advice or someone to talk to.”

  I force a grin. “Look at that. You’re changing already.” With an arm around her, I walk us back to the campsite.

  * * *

  After Dad’s lame attempt at spooking us with ghost stories, we retire to our tents. At Dad’s request, we pitched them with enough distance to quarantine Lila’s snoring. This is a joke between them but out here in the bush it’s taken seriously. I think Dad better watch his back.

  In our corner of the ca
mpsite, Jace unzips our tent and holds the flap open for me. I bend over and drop to my knees inside the stuffy tent. Our sleeping bags are already unrolled so I set the torch to lamp mode and place it at the end of the tent, between our two sleeping mats.

  Jace hooks his fingers under the hem of his T-shirt and peels it off. His chest is lightly tanned and tapers gently to his hips. He pulls at the few hairs he sports and grins at me. I jerk my attention to my bag and pull out a sleeping shirt. I’ll wear the boxers that I changed into earlier.

  “You got any noteworthy hair yet?” he asks.

  Other than my crotch, I’m smooth. “Nah,” I say and duck out of my shirt.

  “It’ll get there. Your voice has broken already.”

  “Is talking about puberty a fun conversation for you?”

  He laughs and I shove on my sleeping shirt.

  “We’re friends, remember,” he says. “We can talk about any shit we like.” My back’s to him but I know he’s waggling his eyebrows. “The more uncomfortable, the better.”

  I have a feeling I’ll need my stone tonight, so I take it out and climb into my sleeping bag.

  Wriggling onto my side, I slide my hand with the stone under the pillow. Jace is yanking at the zipper on his sleeping bag. Finally it gives and he draws it up halfway and lays on his side, facing me in his threadbare blue T-shirt.

  “You start then,” I say. “With the uncomfortable shit. What about past or present girlfriends?” I hold my breath as soon as I’ve asked. Why do I care?

  I don’t.

  Well, in a friend way I do.

  “What makes you think I’ve had any?”

  “Have you looked in the mirror lately?” I ask.

  He blinks and it’s hard to tell in the crappy lamplight but he might be blushing. I enjoy this thought until I realize the implication of my question.

  “I mean—”

  He chuckles. “Thanks, Cooper. You’re going to knock the girls off their feet too, soon as you have a few hairs on that chest.”

  I rub the stone.

  Jace rolls onto his back. Leaves from a low-hanging branch make the shadows on the tent’s ceiling dance. The river babbles in the distance. “I met this one girl at Darren’s last party—”