by Julia Swift
Today marks day five of sleep deprivation. My eyes open. It’s like I’m lying six inches under the mattress. The last time I had a streak like this, I was a metal mouth. Dad said I’d thank him later. After every adjustment, the pain was so awful, so crazy intense, I didn’t sleep for more than an hour. That was the first time I realized my parents really fought sometimes. I heard horrible things late at night that hung in the air, couldn’t be unspoken. Why did he always have to travel? Why couldn’t he get a job writing at home? There are plenty of people who commit crimes right here, poor people who deserve a better life that he can write about, he doesn’t have to fly off to places with strange names where animals piss in the water they drink and people pay bribes to get things done. He almost ended up like the Times’ reporter in Indonesia, the one no one ever heard from again. She didn’t want that call, that visit from the State Department or the senior editor, or worse, hear on CNN that he was dead. She wanted him home. She didn’t care he could die in a car crash on the Ben Franklin Parkway or drop dead from a heart attack while mowing the lawn on a hot afternoon, that she could understand. Being in another country where she couldn’t be close, that she never wanted. Sentenced is how she put it. Funny how from all that I never thought he wouldn’t make it back, I only heard them fighting. I knew they’d never split up, but the first time you hear a fight like that, you never forget. I was glad I had braces then, they were my excuse for not being happy, for being sorry I knew. At least now my teeth look good. Dad was right about that.
It’s still dark. Mom is still sleeping. She never gets out of bed on weekends until lunch. I’ll leave her a note. It’s not raining, but my palms are already sweaty anyway. It must be a date.
*
“Hey.”
I wonder if she’s wearing her toe ring inside her boot.
“Sorry I’m late. Which way, Ranger Will?”
I like hearing her say my name. We’re off on whatever this is.
*
We stop at a clearing. Not much of a view unless you have a thing for housing developments.
“View’s better up top.”
I promise her she won’t be disappointed.
“From far away most things look better.”
I thought we’d take the low-key, roundabout route. But she insisted on the steep trail. Just when I think I know what’s she’s going to do next, I’m wrong. She’s impossible. But in a good way. I offer her Gatorade, she shakes her head shyly and takes off up the hill.
“Have you brought anyone else up here?”
“It’s where I come when I want to be alone.”
Before I can stop myself, or even consider stopping myself.
“To get away from my mom.”
“After I died, my mom wouldn’t leave me alone. She started treating me like I was five years old and didn’t know how to do anything on my own.”
I want to tell her the truth about my dad, that it wasn’t my best friend who died, but now is not the right time.
We hike the rest of the way, no more talking. It’s like being on a date at the movies and you don’t have to worry about talking because the movie is on screen, only now there is no movie.
At the top we sit on a huge boulder. I point out how you can almost see the Earth bend. I put my hands back behind my head. We’re finally here. Chill. It’s peaceful. Quiet…
Ow. My face hurts. It burns. Wait a sec. That’s not my pillow. It’s a rock. Why’s an ant crawling on my arm? Something’s not right. I’m not in bed, I’m… I’m still on top of the mountain. Did I oversleep, am I dreaming… Oh no. No. No. No. No. Please no.
I look without moving my head, spot the tree line. I touch my nose, it’s sunburned. I stretch my legs. I move quietly, pray she didn’t realize. Glance at my watch, it’s noon. She definitely knows I fell asleep, must think I’m an idiot. She doesn’t know I haven’t slept well for days because all I want is to be near her. Hold on, I don’t see her. Did she take off? What’s worse – she left me sleeping or she waited all this time? I’m afraid to look. I roll over, slowly. There she is. Her back to me, perched on a rock, watching hawks fly overheard. I can tell she’s okay being alone. She’s used to it. I hope she can get used to me being alone with her.
14
Sasha
Walking downhill goes fast, too fast. I don’t want us to reach the bottom. Then he’ll leave. Walk away and it will be over. Sometimes I’m afraid everything in life is like that. You plan, you’re nervous, you push yourself through, then when you achieve your goal, it’s over. There’s nothing left to feel.
I have to remind myself that I’m here with Will. He’s right next to me, a captive audience for at least ten more minutes. What am I going to do about it? Better than I have been doing. I mean, he fell asleep, not exactly a great sign for a date. But it didn’t feel bad when it was happening. It felt kind of amazing. Like we were lying in bed together on a lazy Sunday afternoon. I’ve never done that before, spent the whole day in bed with someone. Up there on the mountain with Will, it felt good when he fell asleep, like he was safe with me, like I was a good holder. Even though he hasn’t even touched me yet.
Why does he have to touch me first? I’m supposed to be bold.
Okay, I accidentally on purpose bumped my shoulder into his. I know it sounds like I’m ten, but I had to test the waters. He smiled. Why doesn’t he take a few fast steps, block my path, take me in his arms and kiss me? Because life doesn’t work like that. But it could. If I made it.
I’m speeding up, he’s speeding up to keep up with me. I didn’t count on that. I can adapt. Be bold. I stop. He stops.
I walk up to him and kiss him.
I really kissed him.
Oh. Wait. I need a minute. We’re walking again, but I can barely breathe. I kissed him, and he kissed me back tenderly but it was so sweet I kind of lost it and kissed him hard, and I think I shocked him. In a good way. He hasn’t stopped grinning. I feel like I’m still floating up on the mountain. We are almost down the hill, but I’m not letting him go. Being bold works, and I’m going to keep pushing it, me, because this is worth any worst-case scenario, and what would I usually be doing now anyway? Watching television? Hanging out, not listening to Lisa? Avoiding my dad? No, I’d be daydreaming. But now I’m living. What do me and my dream guy usually do in my daydreams that we can do in public? I know.
“Wanna get out of this place?”
“Where?”
“Anywhere we can go and be back by dinner.”
I’m embarrassed I said dinner. That’s not bold. Maybe he won’t notice.
“Let’s just go to the station and get on the first train.”
He says yes. I get the feeling he’d say yes to just about anything. And not just because he’s into me, which, by the way, I’m pretty sure he is since when the train arrives, he grabs my hand and leads me to the top level of the train. As we sit by the window, he picks up my legs and stretches them over his. I’m beginning to realize most people are waiting for someone to come up with any idea that will pull them out of their rut. People rarely take chances on their own, but if someone crazy like me suggests something, people will jump at the chance to do something new. I can’t believe it took me this long in life to understand how things work. I feel like I can do anything. Not just go to college, but go all over the world. And wake people up along the way.
Everyone in the train is staring at my legs draped over his. And that’s okay because it feels amazing. Outside the window, the sage brush of the Angeles National Forest makes the whole trip feel like we’re on one of those rides at a fair where you go around in a circle and see the same painted backdrop. It’s not the cool national forests with bears and deer. It’s one big fire hazard. It’s too dry for anything but snakes and ants. Once I saw a warning for mountain lions and I thought I heard something up in the trees, but it was probably just a snake. The forest is one big empty barrier between me and the real world, the city.
The train slithers down t
he mountain pass and everyone leans back without realizing it. If you put us on solid ground now, we’d see how silly we all look, but in the train, no one but me even notices we are leaning.
The train flattens and I can see the city crawling up the hills across the valley. We’re almost to the next stop. We realize if we want to have any time to explore, we have to get off now or we’ll never get back before dinner.
“Do you need to call your parents?”
“No, my mom’ll pick up some fried chicken and leave it in the kitchen for me.”
“And your dad won’t care?”
Will shakes his head no. My dad would expect my brother to be gone, but if I’m not there, I actually have no idea what would happen because I’m always there. I don’t want Will to worry and think I need to get home soon. We can be back in time and anyway, I want to be able to see Will again tomorrow. But I’m not supposed to be thinking about tomorrow, I’m supposed to be here now.
We get off the train in Pacoima. We’re the only ones getting off, everyone else is getting on, like they want out of here, but it looks better to me than home. There are buildings over one story, well, a few. But there are people packed into every square inch of this place. On the street, in the buildings. I don’t see any parks or open land, just the monster of the Angeles National Forest looming above us, but we are on the other side now with real life. Everything is dirtier and smellier and so much more alive and exciting. I know Will can feel it, too, because as we walk, we’re shoved up against each other with our arms around each other’s waists, and every time he turns to look at something I can feel it everywhere.
We buy a burrito at a small taco stand on the street. Will orders in Spanish. I wish I knew Spanish. I take French in school, whole lot of good that’ll do me in L.A. We share the burrito, it’s saucy and spicy, way better than fast food. I buy a soda as Will spots a flyer taped to an electric pole for a cool band playing tonight. But I know I can’t. Ever since the accident, whenever anyone talks about music it drives me crazy. It would be one thing if they played an instrument, but everyone at school wastes so much time talking about music. I don’t have time to waste anymore. I like to listen to music, and I sing to myself all the time, but standing with a bunch of people staring at other people playing music. I don’t get it.
“I’m too restless to stay in one place, can’t we just wander?”
He kisses me.
I’ll take that as a yes. A big, yes. I hand him the last sip of soda. He tosses the bottle and we’re moving again. The streets are crowded. It’s hot and no one wants to be cooped up in their apartments. One day I want to live closer to the city where people live in apartments and not houses. Who cares if you have more space inside if there’s nowhere to go outside?
I can feel Will jerk to the side and then his body becomes tense. I look to see what he sees, down the side alley, two guys breaking into a store. I can see the front of the store from the street. A game store, closed on Sundays.
“If you’re going to take a risk like that, why not go after something worth it?”
I’m not quite sure why, but before we can talk about it, he’s pulling me down the alley. Well, not really pulling me, but his hand is in my back pocket so we are pretty much attached. I back away as he walks right up to the door the guys jimmied open. We are alone in this alley in this strange town.
“Come on.”
Quietly he opens the door.
“Wait.”
He does, but now I don’t know what to say. I just know I don’t want him to go after those guys. He could get hurt.
“They might have a gun or knife or something.”
Will disappears inside the store. I’m standing there in the alley like an idiot. Or is he the idiot? I’m supposed to be more bold. But something tells me this isn’t bold, it’s dangerous. There’s a difference, right?
15
Sasha
Will hasn’t come out yet. The door swings back and forth a little. When the guys forced it open, they stuck a piece of metal in the hinge so now it can’t open all the way or close all the way. It’s stuck swinging.
Maybe those two guys own the place. It’s called Tico’s, and they were definitely Latino. They look like they are only around 18, but it could be a family store and they forgot their keys. But then they wouldn’t have left the door open because they’d leave from the front. Maybe all they want is to steal one or two games. But then they probably would have gone in when the store was open and used a razor blade to cut off the sensors before shoving the games in their pockets and making a run for it. I can’t think of any other reason they’d be in there unless they want to steal a lot of money and expensive electronics. If that’s it, they won’t be too thrilled to see Will.
Will is not stupid. I’m pretty sure of that. Maybe he thought of another reason those guys are in there. He’s definitely going to want to tell this story to everyone in school. How he saved the store or chased the guys out, or maybe he went in there to talk them out of making a huge mistake. If someone had made my brother take a second to think about his crime, his life would be totally different now. And where am I going to be in the story? Standing outside going over every conceivable outcome a million times in my head as usual. Or I could stand closer to the door so at least when he tells the story I can say what I heard.
I’m as close as I can get without being hit in the face with the door if they decide to come running out, but I can’t hear anything. I don’t think there’s anything to hear. Oh, there, the guys yelled at each other to hurry. No sign of Will. If he’s going to talk them out of it, he’d better get moving. The more stuff they pick up, the more they’ll have to put back on the shelves. Plus, every minute those guys are in there, their adrenaline must be pumping faster and faster. If he steps out now and surprises them, they could hurt him without meaning to, then they’ll get in trouble for that and he’ll have made things worse. And he’ll be hurt. What if he ends up in the hospital? I can’t even visit hospitals now. Whenever I even think about them, I feel like I’m trapped again. Like they’ll find something wrong and stick an I.V. into my arm. I don’t even want to go to doctors. They have the power to send me to the hospital, and I’m not going back. But if Will got hurt, I have to stop that from happening.
I’m not supposed to stand silent in the corner anymore.
“Hello?”
I’m in the door, making my way down the cramped back hallway piled high with outdated game consoles. If the guys tried to run out now, they couldn’t get past me. I could push myself up against the wall, but there’s no way. I better start walking faster so by the time they find me, I’ll be at the opening to the store.
I hear a snap. Will must have shifted position. The guys hear it, too, and turn to see me. They freeze.
“Hi, I’m Sasha.”
Okay, I know that sounded like a lame party introduction, and I know I’m not at a party, not that I’ve ever in my entire life introduced myself to anyone at a party. I mean I’ve been to parties, but I always end up hanging around Lisa. She might drive me crazy, but I wish she were here now. Where is Will?
The taller of the two guys grabs me. I see his vicious looking tattoo of a pit bull on his forearm before I notice the wad of cash in his hand. Oh no. We are way past talking anyone out of this.
“Tell me where the safe is.”
“What safe?”
“Show me the safe or I smash your face in.”
He thinks I work here? I’m so scared I can’t talk. Pitbull squeezes my arm. His keys hang from a pocket chain I’m imagining squeezing my neck in a few minutes if I don’t do what he says. But then I look at the other guy, who seems freaked. His green eyes stare at the imprint Pitbull’s hands make on my arm. I didn’t even notice until he made me look.
“I don’t work here.”
“You just happened to be here when it’s closed?”
I know I should be scared, but the guy with the green eyes reminds me of my brother. He’s
really thin in that way boys sometimes are before they bulk up eventually. Late bloomers. And he has an intensity, I sense warm colors radiating from him. He lets his bag of games fall to the floor next to his sneakers, which look too big for his body, and pulls the cap over his face. I can see him trying to find a way out of here. He won’t hurt me, I’m positive.
“I won’t say anything. Go, run, before someone catches you.”
The guy with the green eyes takes off through the storage room and exits into the alley. Now it’s just me and Pitbull. He comes closer. I start for the exit, Pitbull blocks my escape.
I scan the room. There’s only one other way out and it’s through the display racks. I have no choice. I flee to the door that leads to the street. Not only is it locked, but there’s a metal security gate on the other side. Even if I had the courage or strength to break the glass, I’d still be trapped. My heart pounds as I turn and see Pitbull steps away from me. I topple a display island packed with pre-owned Nintendo Games to block him from me. Frustrated, he kicks the smashed display case. I duck behind the counter, looking for anything to use as a weapon. All if I find are the handheld plastic devices my brother holds to slay dragons, kill monsters and evil soldiers. They won’t help me here.
As Pitbull leaps over the counter, I let out a scream and race for the back door. I slip on the tile floor and fly through the air, not gracefully, more like when you sit in a chair and tip it too far and then you wave your arms to try and stop, but there’s no stopping until you hit the ground. I land face first, look up and see those big sneakers inches from my face.
“Come on, let her go.”
It’s the guy with green eyes. He came back.