“Then you should understand that we can’t—”
“No. You need to understand. I’m not going to do this. I won’t.”
“Is this about that phone call? The night of Dutton’s party?”
“That’s none of your business, Shannon.”
“The hell it isn’t. I know you were fighting. You have to tell me what—”
“The only thing I have to do right now is leave.” Adam sounded so angry, nothing like himself. And that scared me. “I can’t handle this. Not for one more second.”
There were footsteps then. And the click of the front door.
I rushed down, my palm sliding across the railing, just in time to see Adam step through the open doorway. Shannon’s back was to me, her body tense.
“She’s right, Adam,” I whispered.
Adam stopped. Stood there for a moment. And then turned to face me, tears welling in his red-rimmed eyes.
Shannon turned, too, her tears spilling over, running down her cheeks and dripping off her chin.
“Right about what?” Adam asked, his tone softening a bit.
“You can’t just leave. We have to do this together.”
Adam bit his lower lip and looked around the entry. “It’s just too much,” he said, tipping his head toward those black Converse shoes. “Being here. Doing this.”
“This isn’t about us,” I said. “It’s about Joey. And his family. It sucks and hurts and we hate it, but we’re doing this because we love him.” I wondered how I could feel so comfortable telling Adam that I loved Joey when I’d never had the guts to tell Joey himself. I felt like screaming, knowing I’d lost the chance, that I’d never have it again.
Adam shook his head.
“Shan said you and Joey were fighting?” I was dying to ask a thousand questions at once but forced myself to let them go until Adam and I were alone and he might actually tell me something. “Is that why you’re so—”
“Nothing was going on.” Adam looked at Shannon. Then me. “It was stupid.”
Shannon reached out toward Adam, but he pulled away.
“He was a brother to you,” Shannon said. “He wasn’t perfect. He was more than a little crazy sometimes, but that’s why we loved him. Right?”
Adam pressed his hands to his face. Sighed. “Right. It’s just that … He died. And I’m so freaking pissed off, I swear I’d punch him in the face if he were standing right here.”
“That’s normal, right? I mean, I feel that way, too, sometimes,” I said, trying to smile. “And then the next second, I’m a slobbering mess, just wanting to give him one more hug.”
“We’ve all turned schizophrenic,” Shannon said with a snort. “Joey would be proud he’s had that effect on us.”
Adam shook his head. “The sick thing is that you’re right.”
“So, you’re staying?” I asked.
Adam closed the door, shutting out the dark night. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess I don’t have a choice.”
“Thank you,” Shannon said.
Adam looked at her, something unfamiliar crossing over his face, sending a ripple of fear through my chest. I tried to push the thought away, but it kept coming back. Adam seemed different somehow. A shade darker. And I was suddenly afraid that Joey, and all those memories, weren’t the only things I’d lost at the cliff top.
6
A Punched-up Shade of Blue
It had hit me the night before, after coming home from Joey’s house. The memory crashed into me as I was falling asleep, and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. The image of Joey lying on the ground. Unmoving.
It’s like my brain had taken a snapshot of the moment and seared the single frame to the insides of my eyelids so that every few seconds it would wash over me again. Pull me under. Drown me. Joey on the bank—just lying there—his legs bent awkwardly, head tipped back, mouth gaping open.
I squeezed my eyes tight and pressed my fingertips into the lids, turning the flash into a million pinpricks of light—erasing his death.
The vision made me feel this desperate need to hide in the vacuum of my closet. But I wasn’t alone. And I didn’t want anyone to know that I’d started to spend so much time backed into a corner, huddled beneath my clothes. So I stayed where I was, burrowed between Tanna and Shannon.
Earlier, when we’d finished the last of Joey’s posters and CDs, after Pete left us sitting on my front lawn with the setting sun turning the sky a bruised shade of purplish blue, Tanna had insisted on spending the night, saying we should use pillows and blankets to make a bed on the floor of my room, like we used to do when we were kids. With only one day until the funeral, Shannon had agreed, saying that none of us should be alone.
I didn’t tell her that, for me, alone was the only thing that felt right anymore.
Lying on the floor, digging my toes into the carpet to give myself the reassurance that something beneath me was solid, I lied to myself. Told myself Joey had just been sleeping. Because that was easier. An escape. Lying took me to the times that were protected, indestructible.
Like the semester of freshman health class, when Joey and I would shuffle to the back of the classroom, duck behind Chris Grater’s wiry Afro, and whisper back and forth until the interminable video of the day began. Then we’d nestle down in our seats, prop our heads on bunched-up fleece jackets, and close our eyes. I always opened mine again, watching Joey for a few minutes as the drone of the documentary voice-over began, counting the freckles dotting the slope of his nose, or thinking about braiding his chocolate-brown hair, imagining the feel of the silky strands sliding against the length of my fingers until the information about STDs or news of the latest supervirus trickled into my brain and I was swept away by the sleep that had overtaken Joey.
Just sleeping, I told myself, pressing my shoulders, my back, my butt against the bedroom floor—against solid ground. Pressing my mind forward, tripping away from that horrible vision, and onto the next. Adam’s face, his eyes, stricken with panic. But that only made me feel more alone. More unsteady and in need of balance. Why was everything making me feel like I was suspended in eternal free fall?
“You guys checked your phones again, right?” I asked the darkness, the steady sound of sleepy breathing coming from both of my friends. “When we turned off the light?”
“Yeah.” Tanna flipped to her side, facing me. I could smell the soapy scent of the Noxzema she’d slathered on her face earlier. “I did.”
“Me, too.” Shannon tossed an arm up and over her head.
“Nothing?” I asked.
“Nada,” Shannon said. “It’s official. Adam’s ignoring us.”
“I don’t get it,” I said. “Why wouldn’t he show tonight? How could he miss helping with the posters and CDs for the funeral?”
“The important thing is that we know he’s okay. I talked to his mom earlier today, remember?” Tanna reached out and gave my hand a squeeze. “We’re all having trouble with this, and we won’t all deal with it in the same way.”
“Yeah, but he’s, like, completely shut us out,” I said. “How many times did you text him?”
“Not as many as you,” Shannon said with a yawn.
“I sent him three nine-one-one messages. And left him, like, a thousand voice mails.” I flipped to my stomach, grabbing my phone and pressing the button to take it out of sleep mode.
“Maybe he just needs a little time,” Tanna said. “To process—”
“Nothing,” I said, scrolling through my texts. “Still nothing.” Somehow, Adam’s absence was making me feel twice as empty. Which didn’t make any sense. I knew he was alive. He was out there, somewhere. And that should have made me feel relieved. But instead, his sudden disappearance left me twice as shaky, twice as unsure about the world that was suddenly closing in around me.
“Where do you guys think he is?” Shannon asked, her voice trailing into the darkness, tripping across Tanna and me.
“Hell if I know,” I said, tossing my phone on t
he floor near my pillow, close enough for me to grab in a flash if Adam finally decided to respond. “All we know for sure is what Pete said after he left here and drove past Adam’s house—that his car wasn’t in the driveway. Trust me, if I knew where to go, I’d leave right now and ream him for ignoring us.”
“I meant Joey,” Shannon said, her soft words tumbling after mine. There was a pause then, a silence that seeped into our bones as the truth of Joey’s death washed over us again. “I keep thinking he’s on the moon. I’ve been picturing him up there in that purplish-white glow. I see him watching us. Listening in.”
My chest tightened with the thought of him being so very far away. I bit at my lip, trying to keep all sound trapped inside.
“I see him in a field,” Tanna said. “The grass practically glows, it’s so green, and the sky above him is this punched-up shade of blue. He’s running, his arms pumping with his steps. And he looks strong. Healthy. But most important, he’s smiling.”
I was jealous and ashamed, and I didn’t want to tell them that my vision of Joey was so unlike theirs. That what I mostly saw was him lying on the ground at the Jumping Hole. Dead. Where he was now, that was something I hadn’t yet dared to face. And I didn’t want to. So I said the first thing that came to my mind, needing to escape before I became locked in the grip of yet something else that would drown me.
“I just want to rewind everything,” I said. “To take it all back.”
“Take what back?” Tanna’s voice was stronger, more awake.
“Everything! Planning the day at the gorge, driving with you guys instead of Joey, taking that stupid dare. What if one small thing changed? Would we all be hanging out right now, listening to music while Joey laughed at something stupid someone said, instead of making posters and planning the music for his—”
“Maggie,” Tanna said, “you can’t do that.”
“But I can’t stop myself.” I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest. “What if it’s as simple as one moment? One tiny thing, like that kiss on the rocks? What if I’d kissed him a little longer? Would he be alive right now? Or what if I’d stayed with him Friday night, what if I’d been with him … wherever he was?”
“You’ve got to let that go,” Shannon said. “It’s going to drive you crazy. And none of us know, so—”
“Besides,” Tanna’s hand fluttered against my back, her fingers pressing into the cotton of my shirt, “it doesn’t work like that.”
“And then I think all kinds of stupid shit, right? Like, what if I’d just had sex with him at prom? Could something as far back as a few weeks ago have made a difference?”
“No way, Mags.” Tanna’s voice was a whisper. Like she wasn’t sure if she was right or not.
“But if we’d done it that night, like he’d wanted to, instead of me holding out for the week his parents were going out of town … If I hadn’t been so against becoming a total cliché, he wouldn’t have died a virgin.”
“Oh, God, Maggie, you think …” Shannon’s voice fell, dropped away with her thought. Then it came back, even stronger. “You can’t blame yourself for anything like that.”
“Who else is to blame?” My question strung out in the air between us like a thread, ready to break.
Tanna and Shannon were silent in the darkness.
“No one.” I tipped my forehead against my knees and tried to hold back my tears.
“Maggie,” Tanna said, rubbing my back in slow circles. “You have to stop this.”
I choked on a sob, then let it all the way out. Sitting there between them, clutching tight to the edge of my blanket, watching the clock tick me from the-first-Tuesday-without-Joey into the-first-Wednesday-without-Joey, I needed an escape.
So I focused on the calming memories of what had been, scrolling through the years, the stages, the people we once were and had come to be.
But somehow, that made everything feel worse.
“I’m just really tired,” I said. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”
“Are you sure?” Tanna asked, her hand slipping away from my back.
“Yeah,” I said, the word shaking out into the darkness. “Please.”
I lay back then, closed my eyes, and did the one thing that always helped me when I was feeling alone.
I remembered my favorite night with Joey.
The most important night of all.
The night we became us.
I’d always loved the sky. The night sky, though, was the best. The purplish-blue blanket that folded itself over my little town, it promised me things. Whispered to me when I was in that hazy state of almost sleep where anything seemed possible.
Like Joey and me.
Together.
After so many years of my secret longing, it was fitting that it all started under the veiled and sparkling shelter only a night sky could offer.
“Favorite midnight snack?” Joey lay next to me in the bed of his new black truck, which was actually used, his shoulder bumping mine as we played Twenty Questions in the middle of an abandoned back field on the outskirts of town.
“Bozie’s Donuts.”
Joey’s head tipped toward me, his hair falling across his forehead. “No way.”
I smiled and bit my lower lip to keep myself from looking as excited as I felt to be so close to him. He smelled good. Like cut grass and honeysuckle. And I wanted to taste him.
“I mean, seriously, no way.” As Joey shook his head, his eyes remained plastered to mine. “That’s too creepy.”
“Last time I checked, there’s nothing creepy about Bozie’s Donuts.”
Joey chuckled. “Wait’ll you see this.”
He sat up and slid across the open tailgate of his truck, disappearing in the thick blackness that blanketed the night around us. I readjusted myself on the inflatable camping mattress Joey had unrolled in the truck’s bed and scooted closer to the center, listening to the sound of Joey’s footsteps as they mingled with the crooning chirp of the crickets. He got into the truck, and I heard rustling, then the soft sound of music before the slam of his driver’s side door rippled across the open field. He hopped into the truck’s bed, a white bag swinging in his hand.
“Check it out.” He held the bag in the air.
I laughed, surprised to see the Bozie’s Donuts logo. “That is a little creepy.”
“I thought we’d get hungry while we waited.” Joey opened the bag and took a deep whiff.
“You ever gonna tell me what we’re waiting for?” I raised myself on my elbows, feeling the shiver of my hair against my neck.
“It’s a surprise.” Joey held the bag toward me. “You like devil’s food?”
“Are you kidding?” I sat up and reached into the bag, feeling my way around some frosted donuts and a twisted pretzel donut before finally finding the perfect specimen. “They’re only the best.”
“Creepy.”
I laughed, wishing he would sit right next to me again. That he would lie down, turn to me, and flip this thing between us into full speed.
After taking a few bites of the sweet donut, I looked at Joey. He tipped his head back, staring up at the sky as he wiped crumbs off his hands and swallowed his last bite.
“You have to give me a hint.” I decided to lie down again, hoping the action would lure him closer. “Is everyone meeting us out here? Is that what we’re waiting on?”
“Nope.” Joey slid toward me. “Tonight’s just for you and me.”
I smiled. Then pinched my lips together. Tight. It had been awkward, this thing between us. Whatever it was. Joey and I had hung out alone a zillion times. I mean, we’d grown up together, the six of us, and we’d all spent time in small groups or pairs while the others were busy. But when Joey had stopped me after school exactly one week earlier and said he had a surprise planned, that he wanted me to be his first passenger after passing his driving test, he was nervous. And nothing made Joey nervous. I knew from the way his voice wavered, how his eyes looked everywhere but right in
to mine. And that had gotten me excited. I’d never told anyone about my long-standing, secret crush on Joey. Ever. Because I knew what feelings like mine could do to a friendship. And I couldn’t lose him.
“Joey, look!” I flung my hand into the air, pointing at a brilliant trail of light streaking across the sky.
“There we go,” he said, lying down and scooting his body right up against mine.
“Should we make a wish?” I stared at the fading light. “Shooting star, and all?”
Joey’s hand reached out, his fingers twining into mine. “We’re going to have plenty of wishes to make tonight.”
As soon as he spoke, another star flashed across the sky. “Did you see that?”
“It’s a meteor shower,” Joey said. “And the show is just starting.”
“No way!” I wiggled a little with my excitement, causing the truck to sway beneath us. “I’ve never seen a meteor shower. I’ve always wanted to.”
“Same here,” Joey said. “I thought it would be the perfect way to show you … well, how I’m feeling.”
I turned toward him, but not all the way. You never want to go all the way. “How you’re feeling?”
Joey rolled his eyes. “You really gonna make me work for it?”
“I just want to hear you say it.”
“I’m having feelings. Different than normal.” Joey traced his thumb along my lower lip. “For you.”
“Good feelings?” I licked my lips, tasting the sugary coating left over from my donut. The song on the stereo changed, and I recognized the beginning beats of the Dave Matthews Band’s “You and Me.”
Joey leaned forward, his breath a sweet, delicious heat that had me spinning under another leaping star.
“Definitely.” His voice was a whisper, but it washed through me.
And then he kissed me.
It was insistent from the beginning. That kiss, there was nothing soft about it. Like he’d been waiting his whole life to finally make it happen. And it swept me away, carried me further than anything ever had. I rode the wave as long as I could, feeling his fingers twisting through my hair, the way his body pressed against mine, how his eyelashes brushed against the upper part of my cheek. I’m not sure how long it lasted, our first kiss. All I know is that it was long enough to flip the earth inside out. To turn everything around forever. I no longer cared about the beauty of the plunging stars. All I wanted was to kiss him again. And again. And again.
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