Wandering Wild

by Jessica Taylor

  No matter what Wen thinks, I do feel bad about Rona. For putting a barrier between us like I did that night and for being out here while she’s locked away.

  I’ve got enough money to set Rona free. If I believed in signs, I’d call that one. At least Felix is bringing only imaginary bars into my world. Still, I want that money to save me.

  I sit inside the truck until the last lights go out inside the jail, but my guilt never dims.

  CHAPTER 23

  When the rain starts, it plummets from the sky in heavy drops that smack against the roof of the tent trailer and drip through the old patches that aren’t holding—which is every last one of them.

  Not a drizzle for months and then an outright downpour.

  Weather’s the one obstacle we can’t con our way around. Sure, that compass inside me leads camp southwest during the snowiest of months, and I’m not afraid to take us north when the heat gets unbearable. Nobody dares argue with Boss about the convenience of my talent.

  Rona hates the rain, how we all pack ourselves inside our tent trailers, RVs, and campers, and catch the leaks with pans, and duct tape the holes the best we can. She hates the way we stake everything to the ground, keeping our world from blowing away in the wind.

  Maybe she’s watching rain fall from the window of her cell. If her cell has a window at all.

  By early afternoon, the clouds overhead are dark and thick with hours’ more water.

  “That’s it.” Wen closes up his book and sets it beside his pillow. “I’m going to scream if we don’t get out of this tin can.”

  We decide to take the Chevy into town to hide from the water for a while.

  Wen dumps the Cool Whip container onto the floor. There’s definitely something going on with our money, so we can’t leave it behind in the trailer anymore. The truck’s not a good spot, either, with its doors that won’t lock right and the probability of getting towed. I split the money into two thick stacks that we stow on our own bodies. It isn’t safe, but it’s the safest option we’ve got.

  Wen buttons his shirt over his half of our cash. “Are we going to keep this up forever?”

  “No.” I run my fingers around my waistband, making sure my bills are disguised. “We’re going to set ourselves a trap.”

  When we walk outside, Sonia and Emil are standing there, looking like drowned rats, and Wen invites them along. I suppose I can’t blame him; it’s miserable here, and Emil is his friend, and Sonia is very pregnant. I get inside the truck without uttering a complaint, at least verbally.

  Downtown is packed with cars, so we take a parking space at the end of the block and walk under the eaves of the stores. The wind blows the rain sideways until my jeans are dark with water halfway up my knees. Every step swings the ice-cold fabric against my skin and weights the money closer to my hips.

  A car creeps closer, idling in the road beside us. I look over and my breath catches.

  Spencer’s on the other side of the rain-streaked passenger window. His chin dips, and our gazes connect. He gives me a weak smile, but I look away. His tires roll down the road, keeping a car length ahead of us.

  Wen shakes his head at Spencer and then me. Emil and Sonia stare into the stores along the sidewalk. They don’t seem to notice.

  Spencer never said he really would skip college in favor of traveling the world. But a lie by omission is a lie just the same.

  Emil cups his hands against the fogged-up windows of the first coffee shop we pass and peers inside. “It’s warm in here. Look at the windows.” Bells jingle on the door as he holds it open for Sonia. “Let’s go in here, babe.”

  “Ooh,” she says. “They have flavored marshmallows.”

  Raindrops streak with Spencer’s red brake lights as he double-parks in front of the next storefront. I stand perfectly still for what feels like an eternity, watching the warm white air billowing from his car’s tailpipe. I can feel his urgency, him waiting for me to find a way to join him.

  It doesn’t make sense, but all I want to do is get inside that car.

  Just then Sonia and Emil disappear into the coffee shop, handing me the kind of freedom that tastes much better than any designer marshmallows.

  “Make an excuse for me, will you?” I pat Wen on the cheek and run toward Spencer’s car.

  “Tal, no,” whines Wen. “Oh come on, Tal.”

  The heat hits me as soon as I open the door, warming through my wet clothes and drawing me inside. We both stare for one infinite, wordless moment across the console.

  I want to find the angle, to be the maestro of some great scam. But I also want to give in to temptation.

  Spencer pulls away from the curb, joining the stream of traffic. “I’m so damn sorry about the other night. I—”

  “Just drive,” I gasp.

  I look back and see Sonia through the foggy coffee shop window, her chin cradled in her hand, and her smoky, kohl-lined eyes staring right at me.

  We’re a safe distance from the coffee shop before Spencer speaks. “I’ve got to pick up Mags at Ice-Skating for Tots. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Sure.”

  His fingers inch close to mine and stop short. He leaves them frozen, but when I don’t meet him halfway, he returns both hands to the wheel.

  The storm becomes a drizzle, and he slows the windshield wipers. “I thought I might never see you again. After the other night.”

  “I thought the same thing.”

  He pulls the sedan into a parking space in front of an indoor ice rink and leaves the engine running. “I’ve got some explaining to do, I guess.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “All my parents have ever talked about is college—all my life that’s the way it’s been. And they didn’t say it like it was a choice. College has always been a certainty.” He plays with the vents, flipping them up and down. When he catches me staring, he stops. “I’ve been on this prescribed path for as long as I can remember. You probably don’t understand—and that’s not a slam. I’m glad you don’t know what it’s like to be tied to someone else’s plans for your future.”

  But I do. I know about being wild and free until the day traditions show up at your door and rob you of your dreams.

  The anger I’ve been feeling for him ebbs away. “I’m sorry, Spencer.”

  Not only for that other night. For the life he wants and won’t have.

  “No, I’m sorry—” He focuses on the entrance to the ice rink. “Shit. She’s already done.”

  Margaret’s rubbing the fog from the windows and peering into the parking lot.

  “I’ve got to go inside to get her.” He opens his door but hesitates. “Just so you know, I was never trying to lie to you about my plans. I think I was lying to myself.”

  He jogs toward the entrance before I can say a word.

  Margaret skips ahead of Spencer down the concrete steps, in a sky-blue leotard with a turtle-shaped backpack and a pair of red ice skates slung over her shoulder. As Spencer buckles her into a booster seat, he says, “Mags, you remember Tal?”

  “Her brother does magic.”

  I fold my hands over the headrest and smile. She’s determined not to forget Wen’s little sleight of hand. “That’s kind of a secret. Do you think it could be a secret only the three of us shared?”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re friends. Friends keep each other’s secrets.” This feels dirty.

  Spencer slides into the driver seat and flicks his eyes to the rearview mirror. “Hey, how about ice cream? I bet that would make you forget the magic trick.”

  Margaret finishes her mint chocolate chip, and Spencer sets her up at the pinball machine with a handful of quarters.

  He settles in the booth across from me. “Food’s always the best motivator when it comes to Mags.”

  His little manipulations remind me of the way I sometimes work my brother.

  I pluck a maraschino cherry from the top of Spencer’s melting banana split. “So, why JSU?”
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  “SJU.” He grins. “Stonewall Jackson University, named after the Confederate general. Let’s see. Lots of reasons. It’s competitive as hell. It’s in Charleston—so not too far away. My parents went there.”

  “When?”

  “For college. Mom was poli-sci, and Dad was art history. Had the time of their lives, met each other, got married, moved up to Massachusetts while my mom went to law school, and then they moved back here.”

  “What do you mean, back here?”

  “Cedar Falls is my mom’s hometown. She had an offer from a Philadelphia firm. My parents actually chose to come back, if you can believe it. I mean, she’s ambitious and so is my dad, but they could have done so much more. It’s like they don’t think they missed out, though. At least, as far as I can tell.” That piece of hair falls into his eyes as he looks up at me. “Your parents must let you do whatever you want, huh? You’re so lucky.”

  “I don’t have parents.”

  He covers his mouth and says through his fingers, “I am such an asshole.”

  “You’re really not, Spencer.” I sigh and watch the traffic outside. “I have a guardian. Rona. The woman who got arrested—small town like this, I’m sure you’ve heard about it.”

  He nods. “I’ve heard. It’s not on my mom’s docket. But I’ve heard. So, what about your dad?”

  “He’s dead,” I say. Spencer cringes and opens his mouth, but I put up my hand. “It’s okay. I never knew him. He died when I was two. And my mom—” I try to smile. “Don’t I wish I knew where she was. She cared more about her own freedom than me or my brother. She abandoned us, and Rona let her.” I realize I’ve told him something I couldn’t even tell Wen. “Nobody else knows that about my mom. Not even my brother.”

  All the secrets I’ve been stowing away in the shadows inside me for years, they’re out there—and somehow Spencer’s still looking at me the same.

  There’s a safety in knowing I can tell him anything without consequences.

  Except Felix. That future is the one thing I can’t admit, not to Spencer, not to myself. He can’t know my camp thinks of me as something to be bought and sold. A commodity, as Wen would call it.

  “So your future,” I say, “it has to be that school?”

  “I guess it doesn’t have to be SJU, but if I’m going to college, it might as well be there. It would be selfish to go anywhere else when SJU would make them proud. They’re not trying to be jerks about it. It made them happy, and they think it’ll be the same for me.”

  I stare at the black-and-white tiled floor. He’s not selfish like me. He’d give up the whole world to go to that school and make his parents proud.

  “What about your own happiness? Do you ever think about that?”

  His banana split has become a milk shake, and he pushes it to the side of the table. “Lately, I keep looking back at all the moments that told me I didn’t fit in here. Rewinding to that fight with Jeremy and Craig, that year in Spain, even that kid on the parade float.”

  That float, it’s been sitting at the edge of my mind ever since Spencer made me remember that day and this town.

  The plastic seats creak as he slides forward. “Does that sound crazy? I mean, am I a crazy person for thinking like this?”

  I drum my fingers on the tabletop. “What if I told you the kid was me?”

  He slowly lifts his chin. His crooked smile becomes a laugh. “You must think I’m pretty gullible.”

  “If I wanted to tell you a lie, I’d make it worth my while. I got bored and snuck up on the float.”

  “All right, then.” He reaches across the table, and his knees bump mine as he takes my chin in his hand. “If it’s true, look me in the eye and say it.”

  For one of the first times ever, I’m not lying to a markie, but I’m too stunned to speak or dodge away. “I can prove it,” I finally say. “The float was a cloud. I wanted to know what it felt like to fly through downtown on a cloud.”

  We step into the parking lot after Margaret’s quarters run out. There’s a weightlessness that’s come from letting go of that secret, and my feet move lighter across the pavement.

  Spencer pats down his jeans. “I think I left my wallet on the table.”

  As he jogs inside, I briefly wonder if I stole it when he wasn’t looking. A habit I couldn’t kick.

  I open the back door for Margaret, and her turtle backpack falls onto the rain-dampened asphalt.

  She shrieks and tugs at her black curls. “My turtle!”

  “It’s okay. Turtles are supposed to get dirty.” She looks unconvinced, so I dust off the turtle’s shell. “See, no harm done.”

  I take a knee and shovel the scattered items inside—a pack of gum, a yo-yo. As soon as my hand closes around a picture book, the wind picks up, and the pages flip open.

  Staring back at me is an illustration of an owl.

  I stay low to the ground, the gravel biting at the ripped knees of my jeans, as I blink at the page, as if the thing will flap its wings and lift itself out of the book.

  “Tal?”

  I squint up at Spencer.

  “We should go,” he says.

  “Yeah.” I shut the book and shove it into Margaret’s bag. “We should.”

  As we coast around the winding roads toward camp, my mind is bursting with all the stories from my childhood—of the Falconer, owls, and compasses. I know better than anyone that at least one of those myths isn’t real.

  The tires slow their roll until we’re right outside the boundary line between Spencer’s world and mine, closer than he’s driven before. He leaves Margaret buckled in and walks around the car to where I stand.

  “You don’t have to walk me in,” I say.

  There’s only so far he can travel before he’s crossing into our camp, and that’s an imaginary line we’ve both drawn in the sand.

  “I know.” He moves his feet through the damp fall leaves. “Can I tell you something about that day? The parade?”

  “Sure.” What I really mean is please.

  “Sometimes I think about you, on that float, how I wanted to do something like that, too—hijack a parade float just because I wanted to fly. Even back then.”

  What he’s said is a gift-wrapped box I’m not allowed to open.

  “Come find me, Tal, if you get bored.”

  “I will.”

  He steps away, but as I turn my back to him, his hands catch my waist, spinning me around. Spencer’s kiss is gentle and quick enough to make me want more of the things I never knew I wanted: markie things like books and borders and his hands in forbidden places.

  CHAPTER 24

  Through the screen around my bed, I watch the Chevy barrel between the trees. Wen doesn’t ever tell me where he’s headed anymore, and I don’t bother to ask.

  Town is off limits for cons after Gypsy-gate, and camp holds Felix and Sonia, my future and my fear. I’m going stir-crazy.

  “Talia,” I hear through my door. “Are you in there?”

  Felix. I could duck low and pretend to be out, but with my luck, he’d sit outside and wait for me to come home.

  I open the screen and cross my arms. “Morning, Felix.”

  He smiles wide, flashing teeth that make him look wolfish and that make me feel like lunch. “Can I come in and talk to you?”

  “Sure. Not that I see the point.”

  I climb on my bed, dangling my legs off the side and tapping my heels against the wood.

  Felix glances at the booth by the dining table but climbs up beside me, the weight of his hips jarring the mattress. I dig my fingers into the underside of the bed to keep from rocking against him.

  “You got lots of books.”

  I lift my chin to the piles stacked around Wen’s bed. “Those are Wen’s.”

  But Felix stares at the one on my bed, right beside his hip. He opens it across his lap, and the pages fall open along the creased spine. To Africa. At first, I think he’s checking out the pictures, but he stares too long
.

  “This is really something.”

  “Yep,” I say.

  “Beautiful place.”

  I can’t help myself from saying, “Doesn’t it bother you you’ll never see it?”

  “There are lots of things I’ll never do.” He closes the encyclopedia and sets it beside him. “I try not to think about them. ’Course it bothers me.”

  It can’t bother him as much as it bothers me.

  “We haven’t spoken much since I’ve been with your camp, Talia. I wish we’d gotten off to a better start.” I concentrate on the crickets outside, the wind through the trees, anything but what he’s saying. Something catches my ears. “When we leave here . . . I can’t wait to take you with me, back to my camp.”

  His hopeful smile chips away at my anger and my fear. He wants me, and he can’t have me. I’m no stranger to wanting, and I’m no stranger to wanting what’s out of reach.

  He wants other things, too—the same things I do—and he’s decided to push those foolish desires aside. That’s where we differ and where we always will.

  That earns him a little bit of something I’ve never given him before: honesty.

  “Look.” I set my hand on top of his. “I’m really sorry, but this isn’t going to work. I can’t go anywhere with you. And I’m sure you’re perfectly nice and all, but I’ll never be yours.”

  He squeezes his eyes shut. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

  “I know. When I said I was sorry—”

  “I can’t go back to my parents without you,” he blurts.

  I take my hand back.

  “The shame—I couldn’t bear it. And I’m ready to take my place as a man in my camp. With you by my side, I can. I was only asking if you’d come with me to be polite. I’m a nice guy—I swear I am, so I wanted to tell you I’m going to have a chat with Lando.”

  I take shallow breaths until I’m able to speak instead of scream. “Are you threatening me?”

  “No, ma’am. I don’t mean it like that. Shit, no.” He hangs his head toward our shredded linoleum floor. “If you hated me—well, I couldn’t stand that.”