Sublime Karma

by Peyton Garver

  “Didn’t think you were,” Coach mumbled. The first pack of the men’s team appeared with Ryan, several strides ahead of the next closest runner, leading them out of the woods and across the field.

  Looking from Ryan, she examined her open hands, comparing them. Then, with her thumb, she traced the scars on her left palm. She visualized the utility knife splitting her skin, the crimson line just beginning to seep out as tiny bubbles that bled into one oozing line. Even in her thoughts, she could imagine the relief she would get from the searing pain of the pressing blade. She craved it.

  “Now!” Coach yelled breaking the silence.

  Blinking, Brie gasped, hastily fisting her hands, looking at Coach.

  “Sprint! Give it everything! Faster!” he shouted, waving his arm as if to sweep them in. Coach checked his stopwatch again as the first pack of boys reached the far end of the track, nearing the homestretch.

  No longer on his radar, it was as if she was invisible, a nobody.

  Chapter 7

  “Crap.” Jake let his head fall back back against the passenger headrest. “My dad’s already home. He’s gonna be pissed. Teag’s been home alone all night.”

  Troy parked his Mustang in front of Jake’s house. “All night? It’s not even dark yet. We’re only about an hour later than usual. He’s really gonna be pissed about that?”

  Jake nodded. “Yeah, he’ll be pissed about that. I texted her after practice, as soon as I got my phone out of my locker, but my dad thinks I’m testing limits. And, it’s not an hour. It’s an hour and a half.” He stared at his father’s car in the driveway and chewed the cuticle on his thumbnail.

  “You want me to come in and vouch for you? I mean, it’s not like we didn’t come straight here—”

  “No. No, it’ll be fine. Just forget it.” Jake hopped out of the Mustang, pushed the door shut, and leaned down to the open window. “Hey, thanks, man. I’ll text you later. Can you pop the trunk, so I can grab my gear?”

  “Sure.”

  Jake hesitated and expelled a deep breath before turning the doorknob. Here goes nothing.

  “You know you’re supposed to come straight home after practice,” were the words Jake heard before he even stepped into the house.

  “I did, Dad. Practice ran late today. Coach made us watch a video of the team we’re playing next week for homecoming. He didn’t even give us a heads up, and I couldn’t get my phone until he let us go. I texted Teag as soon as I was able.”

  “Get it right, Jake. You can’t keep screwing up. I need to know ahead of time so I can trade off shifts with my manager.”

  “Dad, I told you, I didn’t even have a heads up. I didn’t know ahead of time. It doesn’t matter what I do! You’re always gonna think I’m a screw-up.” He grabbed his gear from the den and left. Already regretting the exchange with his father, he followed the path behind his house into the woods.

  He walked slower when his text alert went off. Teag. He felt his scowl soften.

  Dad called me before he came home he wanted to talk to you. He said you didn’t answer your phone I had to tell him you weren’t here that was before you texted me that you were on your way. Jake I’m sorry if I got you in trouble I didn’t know what to say

  Jeez, Teag, I’m sorry. You don’t need to be.

  Teag you didn’t do anything you need to be sorry for

  Jake groaned. She’s going to think I’m shutting her out again, like this morning. He continued his text.

  Dad’ll get over it and you know I don’t like you being left alone either I’m sorry I was late

  He stared at the screen. Wait for it. Wait for it. Wait for—. And, just as he predicted, his phone vibrated with the next message.

  I wish you two would stop! I’m twelve now! I’m old enough to stay home by myself!

  A short chuckle escaped him. He knew she’d be angry. But, that was one thing he and his dad agreed on. After what happened ten years ago . . . Jake shook his head and sent another text.

  Don’t be mad Teag

  He slipped his phone into his pocket. From the clearing at the end of the trail he could see the back of Brie’s house. He stared at it for a few seconds then looked up at the deer blind, trying to remember when he’d been here last. The door panel at the top of the ladder was open. He always remembered to latch it shut. He adjusted his guitar that hung on his back, shrugged his backpack further onto his other shoulder, and climbed up. He stopped at the top of the ladder and looked at the figure huddled against the opposite wall. “What’re you doing here?”

  Gasping, Brie snapped her book shut. “I . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t know this was your place.” She pushed herself up from the floor.

  “Brie, don’t go. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound . . . just stay. Please?” He hoisted himself up onto the platform.

  She shook her head. “No. No, I’m sorry, I had no idea. I should go.” She slipped her novel into the front pocket of her hoodie.

  “Please stay,” he repeated, quieter. “Really, I’d like you to.” He dropped his gear to the floor, picked up an old board from next to the wall, and shoved it into a notch against the back wall. “Makeshift bench,” he motioned her to have a seat.

  “Jake, I’m sorry . . . about what I did in class today,” she blurted. “That was mean.”

  “I was an ass. I deserved it. After how I treated you on the bus, I should be the one apologizing.”

  She changed the subject. “I really didn’t know this was your place. It’s just that I could see this tree house from my room.” She pointed toward the clearing beyond the edge of the woods.

  Jake glanced in that direction. Much of the backyard was surrounded by an eight-foot-high stone wall, and from this position, up in the tree, it was easy to see the pool house, pool, flagstone patio, and hot tub. Jake had always liked how the landscaper left the land outside the wall untouched: an outcropping of rock and a scattering of older trees, mostly oak, that gradually blended into the woods. There was even a small stone tenant cottage on the far side of the house. He’d seen the house and grounds so often, he didn’t pay attention to it anymore. To him, it was all just part of the landscape, until now. He looked back at Brie, who was still talking.

  “. . . and when I saw the tree house, I just thought it was someplace where I could be alone.”

  He watched her, his smile growing.

  “What?” She lowered herself onto the bench, sitting so her back was against the side wall.

  He paid attention to the way she moved, the way she positioned herself: feet up on the bench, knees pulled to her chest, massaging the palm of her left hand. She could have been in one of those video clips they had to watch in Sociology last week, when they had to interpret body language. These were classic barrier signals. What was she hiding? “Um, did you say tree house?”

  She looked around the small shelter. “Well, yes. Did you build it?”

  “Yeah, my dad and I built this eight years ago. It’s not really a tree house.” He looked out over the railing and then back at her. “Have you ever hunted?”

  “Hunted? Like, animals hunted?”

  “Yeah, like animals. Deer?”

  “Uh, no. Why would I do that?”

  His grin grew. “This is a deer blind.”

  “You hunt deer here?”

  “Not anymore,” he laughed, motioning toward her house. “Too close to the development. Up to three years ago, I’d hunt here. That path right there,” he pointed to the trail, “leads to my house.”

  “Wait. So, these are your woods?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, surprise,” he chuckled. “Most of the houses that line this side of my street have property lines that come back about two acres. I mean, the houses are kind of close together, so it looks like our yards are small, but the lot
s are deep into the woods.” He shrugged and looked over at her. “My neighborhood kinda backs right up to yours.”

  “I have no concept of the size of two acres.”

  “Think about it like one-and-a-half football fields stacked end-zone to end-zone, long and narrow.” He extended his hands parallel and pointed in the direction of his house.

  A dog yipped and whined at the bottom of the ladder.

  “Roxy? How’d you find me, girl?”

  Jake followed Brie to the rail. “You want me to bring her up here?”

  “I don’t know. Can you? She’s getting kind of heavy.”

  “I think I can handle it.” Jake climbed down, scooped up the dog, and carried her up the ladder. “A husky,” he said, matter-of-fact. “She wasn’t really that heavy.” He set the dog down and, taking a knee next to her, sank his fingers into her thick coat to scratch her neck.

  “Siberian husky,” Brie said. “My brother bought her for me, before I moved here. She’s almost five months. I think she likes you.”

  “She’s a beauty.” He looked up from the dog. “You like it here? In Frederick?” he asked.

  “No. I mean, it’s just . . .”

  He nodded. Dumb question, stupid! He already knew the answer. “Must be tough to start at a new school in your senior year.”

  “I don’t fit in there. When I registered . . .” She shrugged and fell silent.

  “What?”

  “I dunno.” Her face reddened. “You probably heard about that article. I—”

  “Yeah, I heard about it. Everyone knows you didn’t say that stuff. That was someone’s idea of a joke, and most people didn’t think it was funny. It was just a couple of jealous skanks.” Probably Sarah and her lackeys. He shook his hair from his face.

  “Someone else said that to me today.” A faint smile appeared then faded. “I thought, maybe if I joined something, it would be different.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I joined the cross country team,” she blurted.

  “Yeah, I know. I saw you at practice.” When Roxy abandoned him and nosed at Brie, Jake shifted onto the bench.

  “You did?” Brie pulled Roxy closer. “I’m not sure the girls’ team captain cares much for me.”

  “Who, Kelly? She’s just afraid of a little competition, and losing her spot as captain.” And, Ryan’s hook-up. “She just got captain this year. Ryan’s been the guys’ captain for two years now, ever since he transferred from some boarding school.”

  “Wait, Ryan went to a boarding school?”

  He studied her a second, then shrugged without answering.

  She broke the awkward silence. “Yeah, I wish I’d known that the guys and girls run separately.”

  “Come again?” He relaxed against the opposite wall still trying to get a read on her, to figure her out.

  She laughed. “In practice, I followed Ryan. I had no idea the girls ran as a separate team. That was so embarrassing.”

  “Wait a minute, you ran with the guys? How’d that work out for you?”

  “Better than running with the girls.”

  Half-smiling, he watched her.

  “What?”

  He shook his head. “Nothin’. You like running?”

  “Yeah, it’s like when I run, I don’t know. I can’t explain it. It’s like things start . . . things just . . .” she sighed. “It’s something to do, after school.”

  “You like your classes?” Jeez, it sounds like I’m interviewing her.

  “I guess Shakespeare’ll be okay,” she said with a teasing smile. “And, my fifth period class, Independent Specialty Art, I like that class.”

  “You’re in Independent Art? What’s your specialty?”

  “I don’t know that I’m that good, but sketching, pastels, and painting—mostly watercolors. That’s not why I think I’ll like the class though.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Everyone just does their own thing, you know? Like I sketch, someone else might be painting, and then someone else might be doing photography. And, the girls at my table? They’re nice. They’re not fake.”

  “What about Ian? Seventh period? He’s nice, right?” His eyes met hers.

  “Ian? In History?” She smiled. “He’s really sweet.” She laughed. “I think he’s afraid of Mrs. Cowley.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “On my first day? When I asked him if there was a course syllabus, Mrs. Cowley gave us a stare down, over her glasses, and he shushed me!”

  Jake chuckled. “Not Mrs. It’s Ms. Cowley. He is right to fear her. She hates guys.”

  “Oh, she does not.” Brie laughed.

  With a silly grin, he nodded. “Believe me, she does. She really does.” He fell silent.

  “What?” she asked, her smile fading under his now inquisitive look.

  “So, you and Ian, huh?”

  “Me and Ian, what?” she asked. “Oh—you think Ian and I, we’re—?” Her eyes widened.

  “So, you’re not?”

  “I like him. He’s really nice. We’re friends.”

  “I could be your friend.” Oh, smooth, real smooth. I could be your friend? Jeez. Who says that? He felt himself cringe. “So, who sits at your art table?”

  “Lorianne, Mia, and Ari,” she blurted.

  Jake felt his brow furrow. Ari? “Really?” He laughed, playing it off. “Lorianne, a cheerleader who could pass as Tyra Banks’ younger sister. Mia, an artist, violinist, and a member of the National Honor Society.

  “How do you know all of that?”

  “About Mia? Well, she is in your specialty art class.”

  “No, the other stuff.”

  Jake laughed. “What if I told you I’m in NHS and I was in orchestra.”

  “Wait a minute, you’re in orchestra?”

  “Was. I was in orchestra. I played the bass. Gave that up for this.” Jake held up his guitar.

  Biting her lower lip, she gave him stifled smile. “What about Ari? What’s her story?”

  “Ah, Ari. Now, she is the ultimate conforming nonconformist.”

  Brie giggled. “Your sociology thesis.”

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “Anyway, like I was saying, a cheerleader, NHS member, nonconformist and,” he looked straight into her gray eyes. Pushing his lopsided, dimpled smile to the max, he cocked his head, adding, “an athlete.”

  She smiled back. “I guess they are nothing alike. I never thought of it that way. They just seem nice, real. I like them.”

  “Yeah, they are. And, you’re right, they’re not fake. With them, what you see is what you get.”

  “I’m not sure how to say Mia’s last name, she signs her paintings Mia N-G-U-Y-E-N.”

  “It’s Vietnamese. Most of the teachers say it like Win. She seems to go with it.” He shrugged.

  Brie nodded, accepting his explanation and then glanced at his gear. “Were you planning on playing your guitar?”

  “I was planning on writing a song.” He sniggered. “While I was in a pissed off state of mind.”

  “Oh, an angry song,” she teased. “Don’t let us stop you.” She kissed Roxy on the top of her head.

  He gave a her lighthearted smirk. “Suddenly, I’m not so pissed off.” He finger-combed his hair back off his forehead, then positioned his guitar on his knee and started singing. His eyes on his fingers, he picked the melody to “Hey There Delilah.” He looked up from his guitar strings. Singing the chorus, his eyes sought hers. When he finished, he jerked his head back swishing his hair back out of his eyes, again. He relaxed, leaning over his guitar. She was quiet.

  He raised his brows. “Well?” Say something. “What’d you think?”

  “What did I think?”
she repeated, giving him a coy smile. She blushed, but voiced it anyway. “I think I’m jealous of Delilah.”

  Whoa. Really? He flashed her a smile. “You wanna swap numbers?” he held out his phone.

  “Sure.” She entered her passcode on her phone, handed it over without waiting for the screen to open, and then accepted his phone.

  “Oh, sorry. My passcode is eleven seventeen.”

  “Eleven seventeen?” she repeated.

  “My birthday.” He shrugged with a grin.

  “Your birthday’s next month?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Why have a passcode, if you’re gonna tell everyone?”

  “I don’t tell everyone.” He looked at the text thread still on her screen. Ian? He glanced at her, then navigating out of her texts to her contacts, he entered his information. “Thanks,” he said, swapping back.

  She smiled back.

  He pocketed his phone. I could be so much more than your friend.

  She checked her phone when her text alert sounded. Her smile faded, and she cast a glance toward her house.

  “Something wrong?” Jake asked.

  “Uh, no,” she said too quick. “Dinner time.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got to get going, too. I’ve gotta patch things up with my dad.” He drew in his breath. “Uh, Brie, you have my lunch period. Sit at my table tomorrow, okay?” He felt his face warm.

  She paused, but nodded. “Okay.”

  “Here,” Jake said handing Brie his backpack. “If you take this, I’ll take her down.” He nodded toward Roxy, then ducked into his guitar strap, slinging it across his back.

  Brie followed them down the ladder.

  Jake set the dog on the ground and reached for his backpack. Pulling her arm out of the strap, Brie’s hand brushed against his. His eyes darted to their hands and back to her eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched up.

  Her face flushed, and biting her lower lip, she looked from his eyes back to the ground with a shy, self-conscious smile.