“All right,” I say, skeptically. “Sure.”
“Okay. If you can shred the newspaper, I’ll try to figure out our base structure.” Allie holds up a thin piece of cardboard, bending it into something vaguely resembling a circle. She frowns, staring at it with her head tipped to the side.
I grab the first stack of newspaper and use my bad arm to hold the paper down and my good hand to clumsily rip thin strips.
“Have you seen Bick today?” Allie asks, reaching for a piece of tape.
“Nope,” I say, shredding another strip of newspaper. “Why?”
Allie looks up from her cardboard. “He wasn’t in biology, and we had a big test—it’s for twenty percent of our grade. What’s weird is that we were talking about how he’d already finished studying for it just before you arrived at his house yesterday, so I can’t figure out why he didn’t show up.”
“Hmm,” I say, glancing up at her. “That is kind of bizarre. I can text him.”
I set the newspaper down and fish my cell out of my pocket, quickly typing in Where are you? before dropping it back on the table.
“Do you think this is enough?” I ask, gesturing to the pile of newspaper. Already my shoulder is throbbing.
Allie shakes her head. “No, I’ve done papier-mâché before. That’ll barely cover two spider legs. Do at least twice as much.”
I nod and slide another chunk of newspaper under my arm.
Allie pulls out a long stretch of tape and wrestles with getting it over a gap in her cardboard contraption. “So…how are you feeling about the big Townsend family get-together? I assume Logan agreed to it…”
“Yeah…he did. Thankfully.”
“Huh?” Allie glances up from her cardboard. “Are you saying that he wasn’t exactly into the plan at first?”
I shove a pile of shredded paper to the side of the table. “No, not really. But I don’t think that just changing his password will be enough to get Daemon off my back.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling you!” Allie rolls her eyes. “But why the sudden total-and-complete agreement? Before it felt like you were basically just gonna ask me to shut up.”
I look down at the next newspaper. “I got a third rose this morning. It had my new Facebook picture attached.”
“Oh?”
“With my eyes blacked out.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” I say, sighing. “Completely creepy.”
“You don’t think Daemon’s like, stalking you, do you?”
I cringe. “I have no idea. I mean, I’m sure he’s not actually a stalker. He probably just wants to screw with me. Freak me out.”
“This is serious,” Allie says. “Maybe after you and Logan talk to him, if he doesn’t back off, you should report all this stuff to the cops and get a restraining order or something.”
I rip another piece of paper, thinking about how Allie and Adam are starting to sound alike. “Yeah, I don’t know. I think we’ll probably just talk to his uncle next if he doesn’t stop being such a creep. Involving the cops seems kind of extreme.”
“I guess.” Allie sets down a rounded, taped mass of cardboard and steps back to stare at it.
My phone buzzes against the table. I pick it up, assuming that it’ll be Logan confirming the details for Sunday, but then nearly drop it when I read the message.
“What? What does it say?”
“It’s from Bick.”
“Yeah? And?”
I hold my phone out.
I’m at the hospital.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Turn right at the stop sign,” I say, from the passenger seat, my hands gripping the warm pizza box.
The news that Bick got into a car accident last night somehow spread all over school even though I didn’t tell anyone besides Allie and Logan about the text. But he said he was totally fine and that they’re releasing him tonight. If anything, he made it sound like the worst part was how crazy his parents were driving him, so I insisted on picking him up and bringing him home.
“Okay, we almost there?” Logan flips his blinker on and comes to a stop at the shiny new sign.
My stomach drops when I look at it. I’m anxious to get to the hospital, but Bick said he didn’t want visitors until six o’clock because he had some tests to run, so I talked Logan into distracting me until then.
I force myself to stay positive. “Not yet. Still a little while to go on my magical mystery tour!”
“All right, captain,” Logan replies, grinning at me. Then he turns and heads further down the hill, around a ninety-degree corner, and then across the bridge.
“That’s the Green River,” I say, pointing down at the water rushing beneath the bridge. Beside us is a big red barn that was converted into apartments and a pretty white silo painted Argus Farms. It belongs on a postcard, with its green fields and red-and-white painted buildings.
“As in the Green River Killer?”
I shrug. Did he have to ask that? With everything going on, I so didn’t need to think of that. “Yeah. But like I said, I don’t think they ever found any bodies in this part. It was further upriver and downriver they did.”
“That’s…pleasant.”
I snort. Pleasant. Spooky. Whatever. “It’s right again,” I say, pointing at the sign. On my lap, the pizza box warms my legs through the thick denim of my jeans.
Logan nods. “So, you’re bringing me to the romantic, non-body-dumping portion of the river?”
I laugh. “Like I told you before, nobody around here even thinks about the Green River Killer anymore. Water under the, uh, bridge.” I pause, realizing what I just said. “So to speak.”
“See!” Logan exclaims. “Now that’s why I picked you for the class project. You really have a way with words.”
“Don’t I?” I chuckle.
“So…” Logan drums on the steering wheel. “Can I ask where we’re going yet?”
“Fine…” I sigh. “I’m bringing you to a state park. Flaming Geyser. It’s kinda cool, if you’re not expecting a fiery ball of flames.”
I point to the park gate, and Logan turns right, heading through the entrance and across another bridge.
“And what, exactly, should I be expecting? Other than delicious pizza”—he points to my lap—“and the sheer absence of dead bodies.”
“Something more akin to a pilot light.” I shake my head. “I still can’t believe you haven’t come down here yet! You live right above it.”
“I didn’t even know there was a park down here.” Logan winds through the narrow paved road, trees sprinkling the grassy fields on either side. We pass a little ranger shack, and then cruise down the road at a slow and steady ten miles per hour. To our left, a group of people are flying elaborate remote-control airplanes. We leave them behind, eventually gliding into a parking space where the road dead-ends at a white gate with a stop sign.
We open the pizza box and each take a slice, grabbing napkins to use as pseudo-plates.
“I’m so sorry I forgot my candles and fine china. If you’d like me to use the dome light to set the mood, I’m more than willing.” Logan winks.
I nearly choke on my first bite of pizza and barely manage to use a napkin to stifle my oh-so-attractive coughing.
“So what’s number six?” he asks, shaking his head as he takes a bite of pizza.
I swallow my food and take a sip of soda to clear my throat. “Ironically? Jeeping.”
“And you’re sitting in a Jeep! I’ve cured you already!”
I roll my eyes as I set the soda can down in the cup-holder.
“But seriously,” he says, “You’re afraid of four-by-fouring?”
“Yeah. Adam has a Samurai, and Bick has his big souped-up pickup. They love going to this place up in the hills, and Allie goes with them all the time. But I’m too freaked out to go.”
“Would you go with me?” he asks, setting his pizza down on the napkin.
“Do you even know how?”
He nods. “Yeah. We used to go in Tillamook Forest, just outside of Cedar Cove. Me and a few other guys got pretty good at it.”
“I don’t know,” I say. Is he talking about the guys I saw on Facebook? His old friends? I blink, pushing all Facebook-related impressions of Logan’s past from my mind. “I just keep picturing the whole thing flipping over and crushing me.”
He puts his hand over mine. “Hey. You can trust me.”
I take in a deep breath. “The quad thing didn’t work out so well,” I remind him.
“It would have, if the wheel hadn’t broken. You know it was fun while it lasted. I had no way of knowing the wheel would break off like that.”
“Yeah, I know…” My voice trails off. We still haven’t talked about the fact that the bike was sabotaged, though by now, Adam must have told him. I saw the way he looked when I showed him Daemon’s Facebook messages. What would he do if Daemon actually messed with that quad?
“Harper?” Logan says, picking up on my doubt. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“I wouldn’t say that…”
“Then what is it?”
“I have to ask…” I stare down at my slice of pizza. “Do you think Daemon had anything to do with it?”
“With what?”
“The wheel.”
“Harper,” he says, his voice firm. “Look at me.”
I tear my gaze away from my half-eaten dinner and meet his eyes. “Daemon wouldn’t do that. He likes to mess with people, sure, but he’s not going to hurt you physically.”
“Swear?”
Logan nods. “I promise.”
“Good,” I say, relief wooshing through me. “And yeah. I’ll go. Four-by-fouring, that is.”
He grins. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
He leans forward and kisses me, stealing my breath away, making me forget what we’d just been talking about.
Ten minutes later, we’ve both scarfed two pieces of pizza, and we’re ready to move onto the walking portion of our distraction date. I glance at my watch. Still an hour before I can go pick up Bick.
I slide out of the car, round the back, and accept Logan’s hand when he reaches out for me. We walk, side by side, down a narrow cement path that later turns to dirt. Orange and yellow leaves crunch beneath our feet, until the sound of the river’s rushing water drowns out the rustling.
We pass the salmon ponds, round a corner, and then I say, “Ta-da!” with a flourish of my arm.
Logan peers into a small crater, to where a little flame dances.
He chews his lip. “It’s like two inches tall.”
“Three. I told you it’s all about managing expectations.” I laugh, feeling good for the first time in hours. If I were home, I’d just be worrying about Bick, my speech, Daemon…and a million other things. Somehow, just being with Logan changes me in every way that matters.
Logan slips his hand into mine, as if sensing that I’m thinking about him. “So that is the infamous flaming geyser, huh? Still kind of hard to believe.”
“Believe it!” I shrug, my voice ringing out. “Come on, I’ll show you the bubbling geyser.”
“Let me guess: It’s more like the tiny bubbles little kids blow than giant ones as seen on TV?” he asks, his eyes lit up. He’s having as much fun as me. In a way, I’m glad Bick wanted me to wait until six to come visit. Logan and I needed this. Time to ourselves without all the problems with Daemon and the stress of school and the mystery of dead birds and red handprints.
I snort. “Something like that.”
“Can we see the river first?”
“Sure.” I zip up my jacket and pull my hood over my head as we follow the sounds of rushing water. Then I grab Logan’s hand and pull him along.
Logan happily trails after me, then blinks when a rain drop lands on his nose. “Is it seriously raining? Again?” he asks, studying the sky.
“I’m telling you: If you’d hoped for sunny weather, don’t hold your breath. It’ll be May before we see anything like that.” I take another few buoyant steps, then feel a tug on my hand and realize Logan’s stopped. “You coming or what?” I ask.
“You don’t think we should go home? I don’t want to get stuck out in a rainstorm.”
“Nah, it’ll be fine. A little drizzle and then it’ll clear right up. Come on.”
“Okay,” he says, shifting his gaze from the gray sky to follow me to the river. We climb up on a large boulder, and then stare down at the frothing white water.
“It’s not really green,” he jokes.
“Yeah, actually, I’m not sure where the name comes from. The river we crossed over to get to the haunted maze is the White River. And there’s a little town called Greenwater to the east. I guess people around here aren’t that creative.”
Thunder rumbles in the east, but it’s so quiet, the storm must be miles and miles away.
I turn to Logan, and he slips his arms around my waist. I relax into him, forgetting about the thunder. “Wonder what would happen if you fell in right now,” he says, one side of his lips curled up.
“Har har,” I say, sarcastically.
“Do you think we should find out?” His fingers tighten on my waist, and he pushes ever so slightly.
My heart slams into my throat and I jerk back so quickly, I nearly fall off the rock. It’s only Logan’s hands on my waist that save me, and I slam into his chest so hard the pain in my shoulder makes me cry out.
“Whoa, are you okay?” Logan asks, holding me up.
“Why’d you do that?” I hiss, breathless from the pain as I push him away, cradling my already injured arm.
“I was just joking around,” Logan says in a low voice. “Trying to get you to face your fears. I didn’t think you’d react like that.”
I take in a deep breath and fight the urge to glare at him. “How did you know that water is one of my fears?”
“I didn’t. Not really…” His voice trails off. He gets a strange look on his face, like he’s lost in another world, but then he meets my eyes again.
“It’s number five. I can’t swim. My mom wanted to take me to lessons, but then she—” I stop abruptly, then meet his eyes. I don’t have to finish the sentence for him to know what I mean.
“Ohhh,” Logan says, his face falling. “God, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
I turn away and step onto the path again, looking up at the sky to rein in my erratic heartbeat.
“Look. The rain stopped,” I say, gesturing up to the sky. The heavy gray has lightened considerably, the masses of rain clouds rolling away to reveal tiny patches of blue.
“Mm-hmm.” He steps down from the rock and slips his arm around my waist. “I’m a good swimmer, you know.” He leans down, kissing my cheek. “This summer, I’ll teach you how to swim.”
I allow myself to picture the long, hot summer days stretching out before me, Logan’s eyes sparkling with the reflection of the sun on the river. We’re in the water, and he’s wrapping his arms around me, his skin hot against the cold river water. I want it so badly it hurts.
“So how about this bubbling geyser?” he asks.
I just stare at him.
“Hey. Seriously, I’m sorry if I freaked you out. I had a good hold of you. You weren’t going in.”
I nod, letting go of my annoyance. He turns me toward him, leaning down to kiss me softly on the lips, and my irritation floats away.
We walk down the trail, hand in hand, and I try to relax, to not picture how the water frothed and gurgled when he playfully pushed me toward it.
We wind down the pathways, crossing a few little wooden bridges that creak pleasantly underneath us, until we finally end on a platform, leaning over the railing and peering into the water below.
“Okay, so I know I was supposed to manage my expectations or whatever, but that’s not what I pictured when you said bubbles,” he says.
The bottom of the creek bed has a gray, ashy sort of color, and tiny air bubbl
es sprout almost constantly, rise to the surface, and pop. It’s a never-ending, constant stream of bubbling, like a champagne glass lined with mud.
“I told you it wasn’t going to be that impressive.”
“So then why are you smiling like that?”
I shrug. I hadn’t even meant to smile, but there it is. “I dunno. Because I like being with you even if you sometimes have a kind of sick sense of humor. Isn’t that enough?”
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