You Were Here

by Cori McCarthy

  “The flaming arrow thing?” Bishop asked Jaycee.

  “It was great,” Jaycee said. “We were shooting arrows into old Halloween pumpkins—”

  “Oh, we were not. Jake and him”—Natalie pointed to Mik—“were doing that. Jaycee and I were in the middle of a controlled reenactment of the discovery of King Tut’s tomb—which had taken us weeks to prepare, I might add—when Jake got the brilliant idea to fill a pumpkin with gasoline and try to shoot a flaming arrow at it. So I tattled. That’s right, I tattled, and we’re all still alive, so you’re welcome.” She realized what she’d said way too late. “Well, not all of us, but…” She glanced at Jaycee and was stunned to find her beaming.

  “I’d completely forgotten about the gasoline. Think about the explosion!”

  “King Tut? Flaming arrows? I wish I grew up with you guys,” Bishop said.

  Natalie took a deep breath, and her lungs filled with cold rot. Even worse, her emotions were snagging on all this reminiscence. The past was the past. Period. “We need to keep going.”

  Bishop ignored her and slap-shook Mik’s hand in that way boys have for ascertaining coolness. Mik seemed to pass. “Were you following us this whole time?” Bishop laughed, shaking his head. “That’s the most scared I’ve ever been in my life. Fantastic.”

  Mik sent a smirk Jaycee’s way. Jaycee flashed her equivalent of a smile—lips twisted tight—and then they looked at each other. And looked at each other. Natalie was nothing short of astonished. Bishop glanced at Natalie and shrugged, and then Zach interrupted because he always missed social cues.

  “Did you go to school with us?” Zach asked Mik. “You look like…like I know you.”

  “You’re probably thinking of Judd Nelson in The Breakfast Club,” Natalie said.

  “He graduated two years ago,” Jaycee said. Mik held up three fingers. “Three years ago. Oh yeah, forgot. He was a senior when we were freshmen.”

  “Let’s get into the TB ward already,” Natalie said.

  Mik went deeper into the tunnels, his Zippo held out like a torch. Jaycee followed him.

  “Use your cell as a flashlight,” Natalie told Zach and Bishop.

  “Can’t,” Zach said. “Battery’s almost dead. Had to turn it off.”

  She handed her illuminated phone to Zach.

  “Does this Mik guy talk for himself?” Bishop asked, flicking on his screen.

  “He’s a selective mute,” Natalie said quietly to the boys.

  “A what?” Zach sputtered, the tunnels echoing his voice.

  “A guy who doesn’t suffer fools,” Jaycee called back, making it clear that both Mik and she had heard the whole exchange.

  The five of them rounded corners as the tunnels grew colder and reeked of mold. At one turn, Natalie tripped into a rusted metal gurney. The hair stood on the back of her neck, and she surrendered her forced calm to grip Zach’s hand.

  The group came back into contact with the moonlight at the bottom of the creepiest set of split-level stairs in existence. Two seriously disconcerting signs awaited. The first:

  WARNING

  Lead Work Area

  POISON

  No Smoking or Eating

  Followed by the even more encouraging:

  DANGER

  Asbestos

  Cancer and Lung Disease Hazard

  Authorized Personnel Only

  “Found your lung cancer, Zach,” Jaycee said. She plucked the cigarette from Mik’s mouth and ground it out. “I keep telling you, Mik. You’re too smart to be a smoker.”

  He took the apple core from her hand and threw it into the black of the tunnels. Wherever it landed, it didn’t make a sound, which was almost as weird as watching the two of them interact. So relaxed. Natural. No one relaxed around Jaycee; Jaycee usually made sure of that.

  Mik snapped his Zippo closed and ascended, followed by Jaycee, Bishop, and Zach. Natalie went last, and the piled dirt and debris made her nearly lose her footing. Mik grabbed her arm and helped her the rest of the way. His expression was nice without smiling, almost like he knew she was flashing back to all the torments of their youth. Natalie could admit that he’d grown up quite a bit since the last time she’d seen him, and she might even be tempted to call Mik sexy if he wasn’t so damn mysterious-looking. She loathed mystique; it felt too much like a disguise.

  “Thanks,” she said, pushing away from him.

  Natalie held her elbows as she stepped into the moonlight-soaked TB ward. The lead paint peeled from ceiling to floor, and an upright piano rotted in the corner. Her anxiety started to crescendo just as she turned toward Jaycee.

  The girl stared at her, green eyes bright. “Don’t step anywhere that seems damp. The wood is probably rotted through in some places.”

  “Hey, Jayce,” Natalie started, watching the three boys venture into a larger room. “Are you with Mik?”

  Jaycee cocked her head, confused. “As much as you are.”

  “No, I mean…with him.”

  Jaycee made a distinctly reptilian noise and walked after the boys. Zach came out at the same moment, passing Jaycee too closely and getting a hard knock to the shoulder. “Oww,” he said. “Is she always this intense?”

  “Yes.” Natalie sighed. “Always.”

  Zach stepped over to the rotting piano. He ran his fingers over the bones of the existing keys, and when he pressed one, a low sound moaned through the air. “Freakin’ amazing.”

  Natalie entered a large room punctuated by a huge brick fireplace. Beside it, a graffiti artist had spray-painted a black angel with a golden halo. The shadows from the windows reached for it like devilish hands, and Bishop stood before it as though he were having a spiritual awakening. Mik and Jaycee were on the far side of the room, turning in circles as they took in the ruination. Everyone was bewitched. Everyone but Natalie.

  Her nerves were rising, getting the better of her. She needed facts. Questions and answers. Her hands fumbled to do a search on her phone as she crouched on the cobbled floor in front of the skeletal remains of an iron bench.

  “Typical,” Jaycee said from the far corner. “We’re in the coolest place in Athens, and Natalie is on her phone.”

  Natalie looked up, feeling struck. “I was Wiki-ing the history of this place.”

  Jaycee turned her back, but Bishop looked her way. “What does it say?”

  Natalie’s voice was too loud when she found it, trying to cover up how much Jaycee’s dismissive remark had hurt. “I wanted to see if this was a hospital for tuberculosis patients or for mental patients who also had tuberculosis.”

  “And?” Bishop asked.

  “The latter.”

  “That’s a tough break. Mentally unstable and dying of lung disease.” He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck from side to side.

  “How many people died in this building, you think?” Zach asked.

  “Hundreds,” Jaycee said from where she stood by stairs that led to the second floor. “TB is a pretty terrible death. Not quick. Months or even years of pain.” Jaycee spoke of death like it was both banal and a treat. Like potato chips.

  Something creaked on the floor above, and they all froze.

  “Hundreds,” Zach murmured.

  Bishop moved to the stairs, looking up longingly. Then he climbed, and Mik followed. When Zach started to go, Natalie grabbed his arm.

  “Don’t go upstairs,” she said. “It’s too dangerous. The floor could fall in.”

  “I want to see what’s up there.” Zach looked at her anew. “Wait, are you scared now?”

  “Hey, you were terrified when we first got here, and I helped you.”

  “You helped me do what you wanted to do. Now I’m going to do what I want.” All those beers had finally burned out of Zach’s system. He was no longer childlike and silly.

  “
Don’t leave me alone,” she tried.

  Zach motioned to the girl at the foot of the stairs. “Jaycee will stay with you.”

  “She won’t,” Natalie said to herself as Zach took the steps too hard.

  Jaycee was watching Natalie. Half of her face was in shadow, but it only emphasized the reflection of her eyes. “You should have left. You could be doing things you like by now.”

  Truth, Natalie told herself. Only truth worked on Jaycee Strangelove. Natalie took a leveling breath. “I’m leaving soon for New York. I thought we could bury the hatchet.”

  “You bury yours. I’m still using mine.” Jaycee started up the stairs, and Natalie surged forward and grabbed the back of Jaycee’s shirt. Two of the buttons popped off when it pulled tight, and Jaycee swore. “Damn it, Natalie. This was Jake’s!”

  “It’s falling apart,” Natalie said. “That’s not my fault!” Jaycee straightened her shirt, and words started to fly from Natalie’s lips. “It’s time, Jayce. It’s been a million years, and I don’t want you to hate me for the rest of your life.”

  “Five. It’s been five years since my brother died and you dropped me. Put the real number on it, Natalie. And stop calling me ‘Jayce,’” she said. “That was Jake’s name for me.”

  Natalie felt that push of wild anger all over again. “No, that was everyone’s name for you. Don’t you remember? Or has our whole childhood been hijacked by Jake?”

  Jaycee scowled, and Natalie felt the urge to get the truth off her chest. She made a fist instead, because none of this was in her plan. They were supposed to find some sort of peace and then go their separate ways, and yet there was nothing peaceful in the way Natalie wanted to shake Jaycee. Wanted to scream that what had happened was beyond everyone’s control. But that would mean talking about Jake’s accident. And Natalie did not do that.

  Jaycee took the stairs, leaving Natalie to grope for composure. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. Three times. Calm. It didn’t matter if Jaycee didn’t forgive her. In two months, Natalie would be in New York, so none of this mattered, right? Right?

  “I am Natalie,” she said to herself, ignoring the way her voice trembled on her own name. “I can do this.” Her mantra scored a fat zero, and she fled for the stairs to find Zach. She found him in the hall and wrapped her arms around his waist. Nothing made her feel better faster than leaning on him; it’s what their whole relationship was founded on. And that had to be okay too.

  Zach and Natalie wandered down hallways dotted by rooms. Metal bed skeletons leaned into themselves, and tilted bureaus vomited old drawers. At one point, she heard a series of squeaks that made her grip Zach’s belt. “You hear that squeaking?” she whispered.

  Zach pointed into the farthest room, where they found Bishop scribbling poetry on the square panes of an old window. Natalie read a line about Marrakesh and tugged Zach away before he went off. “Let him do his thing,” she said.

  “Don’t I always?”

  They found the largest room, a gathering place of sorts that had wide windows and a door that led to a second-story wraparound porch. Mik and Jaycee were on the porch, excitedly hunched over something.

  “What did you find?” Natalie asked.

  Jaycee turned her back, climbing up on the brick railing and onto the roof. Mik followed.

  Natalie ran for the porch and yelled at the sky. “Get the hell down! That’s dangerous!”

  “Let them be,” Zach said. “You can’t control her.” His words hinted an accusation.

  Natalie felt red and breathless. Everyone else had started to enjoy themselves since they stepped into the old TB ward. But not Natalie. Why couldn’t she just chill?

  Zach moved past her and climbed onto the railing.

  “Get. Down,” she said between her teeth.

  “I want to see what they found.” Zach’s legs disappeared, and Natalie spun in a circle.

  She was alone again. No one wanted to stay with her. And did she blame them? No. She was too type A. Always bossing people around. This was why she had to go to New York. No one would know her, and she could just hit the restart button.

  Natalie had beautiful plans. She’d let people call her Nat. They always seemed to want to. And she’d bought a whole new wardrobe. T-shirts and jeans to replace her camisoles and cardigans. She’d be relaxed in New York. She wouldn’t study all the time. Maybe she’d find a boyfriend who didn’t make her cringe so much. Or maybe she’d enjoy being single.

  “Sky’s the limit,” her dad used to say when she was little. She cradled those words as though they were her only hope. In two months, the sky would truly be her limit—unlike now, with limits everywhere. What would they all say if she just climbed up on the roof?

  Insane. She could literally die. Like Jake. She remembered the sound of his neck snapping and put her hands over her ears, shaking.

  Bishop found her a few minutes later.

  “They’re on the roof,” she said, pointing to the way they’d climbed out and up.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  She ignored the question and wiped her face even though there were no tears. “I saw what you were writing…was that about Marrakesh?”

  He leaned against the wall, and plaster fell to reveal the brick underneath. “Maybe it was about Margaret Schilling.”

  “Don’t mock Jaycee,” she said. “She’s been through a lot.”

  “I wasn’t mocking her.” He stood up and reached for the balcony. “Can I give you some advice? Go easy on Zach. Let the leash out. He hates transitions, and he hates that we’re leaving Athens for college.”

  Natalie nearly spun out. “You’re telling me this? You’re the reason he’s so feisty. You never want to hang out with him anymore. We basically had to drag you out tonight, remember?”

  Bishop’s scowl deepened. “I’m trying to cut ties before I leave, Natalie.” His hand reached higher on the roof. “Question is, why aren’t you doing the same?”

  “What?”

  “You are going to break up with him when you leave, aren’t you? So why are you dicking him around now?”

  Natalie opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  Bishop climbed onto the roof like everyone else, his words floating down on her. “Zach knows what you’re doing. He’s not as stupid as you treat him.”

  She sat on the floor and pulled her knees into her chest. She knocked her palm against her forehead, trying to rearrange Bishop’s words into an order that didn’t hurt. Was she being awful by staying with Zach this summer? Should she just break up with him? She’d have to do it carefully. He was so tenderhearted. And no matter how she did it, he’d undoubtedly spend the rest of the summer in his basement bedroom, drinking away the world. She couldn’t do that to him.

  And she didn’t really want to part with Zach before she had to. He steadied her—even when he was invoking her mom tones. Was it so selfish not to want to be alone all summer?

  The anxiety attack came on with a red head rush. She stood and turned in a circle, finding the scribble of a chimney on the wall that Jaycee and Mik had gotten excited about. Beneath it was a signature:

  JAKE

  Natalie touched it. All of this started with him…all the nightmares and emergency trips to her counselor. All the loneliness and ruptures in her personality that made her desperately realphabetize her books or iron every piece of clothing she owned. She combed her hair with her fingers over and over again, but it wasn’t enough.

  Reaching for the balcony, her hands shook, and she felt like something was ripping inside, but maybe this had to happen. Maybe she had to break free now, embrace everything that scared the crap out of her. It was a long list, starting with Jaycee and ending with the world.

  But before she could, the ceiling beams started to scream.

  And the roof split open, dropping Zach hard
and revealing the black sky beyond.

  Chapter 8

  Bishop

  Chapter 9

  Jaycee

  Finding Jake’s handwriting lit me up inside.

  All of a sudden, I could picture his left hand curled around a pen, his tongue pointing out to the side, and his hair growing scraggly over his ears. I could even hear his laugh. It was high when he was a kid, but by the time graduation rolled around, his laugh had dropped to a growl, and my dad bragged that puberty had turned Jake into part grizzly bear. The deep laugh also made Jake’s sense of humor seem like it had matured, which, of course, it hadn’t. He was still pretty damn amused by his own farts.

  The memories came back strong as I climbed the TB ward roof, and I couldn’t believe the bright rush of details. Mik was right beside me the whole time, and I felt emboldened and a little wild. I scrambled around soggy spots, taking Mik’s offered hand as we shimmied toward the apex. He seemed stronger or maybe broader than he had been last year. Definitely taller.

  Definitely still Mik, which was what I loved about him. People in town talked about Mik’s selective muteness as if it was a psychological injury from seeing his best friend die, but I knew the truth. Mik had never liked to talk. That’s why he hung out with Jake. My big brother did all the talking for both of them. And sometimes they let me tag along on their adventures, although it always caused a fight between Natalie and me. She didn’t approve of climbing trees, walls…or heinously steep, decrepit roofs…

  Mik’s foot went through, and I grabbed his trench coat before realizing that that wasn’t going to keep him from falling. We ascended more slowly, moving to one of the many chimney stacks.

  “Jake was up here, wasn’t he?” I couldn’t keep the thrill out of my voice. “That picture of the chimney seemed like he was leaving a note behind or something.”

  Mik’s silence said yes.

  “Good. I’m not imagining it.” We reached the chimney, and I clung to it. Mik held out his Zippo, and I used the flame to look over every inch of the brick until I found a tiny black arrow.