by Jessica Kapp
Everyone laughs but Mary and me.
“There are no other cities on this island,” Craig says when it’s quiet. “We’d have to go to the mainland, and to get a signal from that far away, we’d need better equipment than what we have now.”
“Ferry tickets aren’t cheap either,” says Sasha. “They’re the only way on and off this island. And I’ll give you one guess who owns the ferry system.”
I collect my points and start the next round.
“You’re making a commitment to the lifestyle when you move here. There’s little incentive to leave,” says Burk. “The doctors get fat checks and the people get skinny.”
“PharmPerfect gives people the life they’ve always wanted,” Craig says. “Problems can be solved with a pill. It’s the perfect place…”
“With perfect people,” Sasha and Burk finish.
Craig drops the dreaded queen of spades and Sasha slugs him in the leg. “Asshole.”
Mary gasps.
“Sorry!” Sasha hits Craig again, this time in the shoulder.
“Ow! That’s my pitching arm.” He massages the spot. “You’re lucky I don’t play anymore.”
“Gavin told me you had quite an arm,” I say. The group stops talking and my voice sounds louder than I intended.
“I did.” Craig bobs his chin. “There was a time when I took more than twenty pills a day. My synapses were working overtime. My body was a machine. I scored off the charts in tests and threw hundred-mile-an-hour pitches. Everything was going my way until my liver started to fail.”
Sasha rubs his back and Mary sits up as if she hasn’t heard this story either.
“I had a new one put in,” Craig says, sucking in a breath. “I didn’t know where it came from until Ry told me.” Ry keeps his eyes on the ground. “That’s when I came here. Started helping Gavin, Burk, and Ry.” He nudges Sasha with his elbow. “I needed to make it right.”
I nod, afraid my voice will crack if I speak.
“All right,” Sasha says, touching her Mohawk. “Let’s finish this game before Burk has to go back to his real home.”
“Does your family own this farm?” I ask Burk.
Burk and Sasha exchange a look.
“He’s a Nordic native,” I say, “so I just figured…”
“Close. But wrong family.” Sasha gestures in the direction of the kitchen.
“You mean Gavin’s family owns this property?” I glance at the kitchen and catch Gavin’s eyes, his playful smile. My cheeks flush and I turn back to the game.
“His grandparents moved out here when his folks did and bought the land from my family. That’s how Gav and I became friends,” Burk says, playing a card.
“There used to be more farms and trees until PharmPerfect threw money at people so they’d give up their land,” says Sasha. “But not Gavin’s grandparents. They didn’t want to sell. They preferred the country life.”
“Does Gavin?” I ask.
Sasha shuffles her cards around. She only has three, so I know she’s just buying time. I don’t like the way her lips curl. The sly smile can’t be because of her stellar hand.
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter,” I say.
She looks at me over the top of her cards and I’m trapped in her gaze. Her eyes say she knows it does matter—that I want to know more about Gavin. My heart jumps a little.
Craig slaps his card down and Sasha plays a heart. He throws the rest of his cards at her. “Damn you, Sasha!”
Mary presses an ear into my thigh and covers the other one with her hand.
“Dinner’s ready,” Ry calls out.
Everyone rushes for the table. There’s salsa and ground beef in bowls with tortillas on a plate next to some shredded cheese. Gavin sits across from me. We’ve established a regular seating pattern, but this time I notice my crate is turned on its side when I go to sit. Just how I like it. He smiles and I mouth thank you.
We’ve worked so well together this past week, sharing information about the Center and the mission to save whoever’s next, I feel like we’ve developed a trust—an appreciation for each other.
Underneath the sound of chatter and people pouring drinks and scraping food, Gavin leans forward to whisper something to me. “You still up for doing all that laundry?” He gestures to the massive pile behind me.
“I thought you said it was too much for one person to handle.”
“It is. But we’re running out of clean clothes.”
“Does that mean you’re volunteering to help me?” My heart pounds and I can’t decide if I want him to say yes. Does he want to be alone with me too? What if he says no? The silence seems to last forever.
“I guess so,” he finally says, his voice indifferent. When he looks down at his food, my excitement fizzles like a firecracker in the rain.
• • •
After dinner, Mary stands on a crate next to Ry and they sing while washing dishes together. They’re actually pretty good, and I’m kind of sad to miss the rest of the show. But Gavin’s right. We need clothes, more than just the bare essentials. We’ve been washing our undergarments with the hose outside, and using the trough to clean our faces. I’d be tempted to give up my big toe for a bath right now.
Next to the pyramid of fabric, I find a stack of duffle bags and stuff fill one completely. I don’t know whose clothes I’ll be washing, but I make sure to include my tank top and a pair of jeans in my size. Hopefully, they’re not Sasha’s, but I’m prepared to fight for them either way.
There’s a shelf by the laundry sign-up sheet with soap and a scrub board. We had washing machines in a supply closet at the Center. This feels so primitive, but I kind of like the idea of simplicity these days.
I decide to make a break for it before Gavin notices. Craig drew me a map to get to the waterfall, so while Gavin’s busy talking to Adrian and Burk, I slip out the door and down the hallway. I don’t want him to feel obligated to help me. Especially when I’m not sure I want to be alone with him. The idea makes me feel nervous and sweaty. One more reason I need fresh clothes. After climbing the ladder, I ease the hatch back in place, making sure it doesn’t clang.
It’s hard to run with the extra weight on my back, but I sprint as long as I can until my thigh muscles feel like melted cheese. The burn helps me work through the backlog of thoughts pecking at my brain. I’m angry I let my heart get caught up in the idea of having a foster family, for believing in the people who raised me. Nothing would satisfy me more than making the Center trainers—and Ms. Preen—suffer.
I imagine my friends sitting on the bleachers, watching our trainers run around the track with laundry strapped to their backs. Meghan, always the control freak, would be in charge of the stopwatch. Parker would bark out orders for them to run faster, and Paige and I would sit back with the others and enjoy watching them gasp for breath.
It’s at least twenty minutes before I make it to the waterfall, but when I finally do it’s worth each second and every ache. The water flows over a ledge that looks higher than the rock-climbing wall at the Center and there is a small meadow on the other side. The trail winds under the boulder where the spill starts, and I reach out to touch the waterfall as I pass through. The cold mist tickles my cheeks, waking every nerve in my face.
I drop the duffle bag to undress. I leave on my panties and slip into my crusty tank top so I can wash it while I swim. Ry claimed the waterfall made laundry more fun. I decide to test his theory and jump through the curtain of water streaming down from the rocks.
My knees curl to my chest in a cannonball. When I hit the water, cold jolts through my body like I’ve been awakened from a deep slumber. I swim to the edge and grab the bar of soap I’d set out. It smells like apples.
It smells like Gavin.
Rolling the bar around in my hands, I make a thick lather for my face and hair. Then I rub the bar all over my body and tank top before tossing it onto the land. The water is frothy around me, and I dive under, making sure all th
e bubbles rinse away.
Under the surface, the waterfall sounds like thunder, yet it’s too peaceful to elicit fear.
When I pop up, I swim toward the bag of laundry, which should be an arm’s length from the shore—only it’s gone.
Chapter 10
I swim back toward the middle of the water and wait. Whoever took the laundry has no idea how long I can tread.
In a burst, a body flies through the waterfall and lands inches from my head.
Gavin pops up, laughing. “Decided to do laundry on your own?”
The water coats his bare chest in a glossy sheen, sliding off the lean muscles of his arms as he wipes his face. I swim to shore; suddenly very aware I’m in my panties. And we’re alone. Is he here to do laundry, or is this weird fluttering in my stomach mutual?
“You didn’t sound too excited to help,” I say, keeping my voice even.
He swims up next to me, holding the rocky ledge. I can see his breath as it steams against the surface of the water. He shivers, probably from the cold, but it makes him look as nervous as I feel, and I smile.
“What’s not to like? Who wouldn’t want to wash dirty clothes in cold water?” he jokes.
“No one forced you to come.”
“I know.” He drifts a little closer. “I wanted to.”
I watch a trickle of water roll down the side of his face, clinging to his skin, unwilling to let go.
The rush of the waterfall seems to fade away. All I hear is Gavin breathing.
“You don’t need to babysit me,” I say.
Our legs bump underwater. The fabric of his boxers feels soft against my thigh.
“If you want,” his eyes flash to the bank, “I can leave.”
We’re so close to each other that I’m scared he can hear my heart pounding against my sternum. His eyes shift back to me, wide and inviting with a soft golden hue. The color of sand you sink into.
And I’m sinking.
I know I should say something, but I’m afraid to break this moment, especially if he’s going to kiss me. I’ve only ever kissed Parker—a quick peck that caught me by surprise. What would this kiss be like? His lips are parted, just enough for me to see a thin black line as if he’s thinking the same thing.
Neither of us speaks. Our bodies turn slowly until we’re facing one another.
He inches my way and I catch the smell of mint on his breath.
Then, someone shouts and Gavin flinches. I glance back just in time to see spray erupt. By the time the faces emerge, Gavin and I are several feet apart.
Sasha, Burk, Craig, and Ry bob in the water.
“Wait for us!” Adrian calls out, jumping in with Mary in his arms.
Did they see what almost happened? Did anything almost happen? I look to Gavin, but his hands are up, preparing to fight off Ry’s advance.
“I don’t see any laundry getting done,” Ry says, trying to dunk Gavin, but he’s too quick and buries Ry’s face in the water with one hand.
For the next hour, we play in the water between loads of laundry. Gavin stays as far away as possible, and I scrub clothes to work out my frustration. Maybe I just imagined we had a moment. I wish I could wash away my doubt. What if it was nothing?
“Everybody out!” Craig hollers from the bank, breaking my thoughts. “Let’s see who can make the biggest splash!”
It’s the kind of thing we’d do when our trainers were away, and it makes me homesick—not for the Center, but for my friends. I climb out and force myself to smile, even though my face muscles are fighting me.
Adrian goes last, and everyone cheers when he comes up for air.
“We have a winner!” Burk says, clapping. All eyes are on Adrian, and I use the moment to steal a glance at Gavin and am surprised when I catch him staring back.
For a few seconds, it’s just us. Like we were never interrupted. A silent admittance that we had a moment…something.
“Who’s up for Marco Polo?” Ry hollers.
It’s a game I actually know, and I raise my hand. “I’ll be it first.”
“Take it easy on us,” Ry says, and I can tell by his tone he means it. I move swiftly, and even with my eyes closed, I can feel the ripple of Gavin’s movements. I sense him lingering close by, just out of reach.
I want to grab him, to let my arms slip around his waist, but not here. Not now.
Instead, I snag Ry’s arm.
“Craig blocked me from getting by!” He whines until I agree to go again.
After a few rounds, Sasha puts an end to the fun. “It’s getting dark, guys.” She motions for us to finish the last load and we begrudgingly swim to the edge. She pulls herself out of the water and pushes her hair back up, like it will make her bigger and scarier if it looks like a shark’s fin.
“Adrian.” She tosses him a few items and continues down the line as we stand around the rim. When everyone has a handful, she walks the last bunch of clothes over to me.
She bends down, whispering as she holds them out. “We didn’t interrupt anything, did we?” She has that same look she did when we were playing cards.
My breath quickens. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Just be careful,” she says. Craig calls out for soap and she’s gone before I have a chance to ask if she meant to be careful of Gavin or of her. I hope it’s the latter. My fists are stronger than my heart.
• • •
Mary leads the way while the rest of us haul wet laundry back to the barn.
“Believe it or not, we didn’t finish,” says Craig. He’s got a bag on his back and a smaller duffle in his arms.
“I’ll volunteer to do the rest if no one else wants to,” says Gavin. He’s walking in front of me, and he looks back, glancing past me first to see if anyone objects, and then pausing to catch my eyes. I’m glad it’s too dark for him to see me blush.
By the time we reach the barn, black has settled over the sky and my body is exhausted.
Sasha, Craig, and Ry offer to hang the clothes on lines that stretch the length of the barn while I take Mary down below.
“Good night,” I say, kissing her forehead. She sleeps on the bunk next to mine, her head only a body length away from my feet. I crawl under my covers and fall asleep before the blanket reaches my chin.
• • •
I dream about my mother.
She pedals leisurely so I can keep up. “You’re doing great!” she says, sticking her feet out to the side. I squeal with delight and try to copy her, but my bike wobbles, and I grip the handlebars tight to steady myself.
Her hair waves behind her like a red flag. “Hang in there, Tabitha, we’re almost home.”
She holds up her hand to make a right turn signal and I look at the sign, the name registering slowly as I put the letters together: Jamison Street. When I finally turn my attention back to the sidewalk, I have to jerk the wheel to keep from hitting a white fence. A little dog yips at me from behind the slats and I shriek. I want to pedal faster to reach my mom. But I can’t.
It’s like a TV show, and I’m powerless to do anything but live through the episode.
Out of the corner of my eye, an SUV approaches, rolling along at the same speed we are. I try to look inside, but the windows are too dark. The engine revs and the car speeds up the road before stopping in front of our house.
Mom hits her brakes when a man gets out, and I almost run my bike into hers. “Who’s that man, Mommy?” I ask, pointing.
“You need to leave,” she whispers, narrowing her eyes at the man coming toward us.
I tug at her pants and she pushes my hand away when the man starts jogging. “Now, Tabitha!”
She turns my bike around and gives me a push. My heart races and I glance back to see if she’s coming, if she’s right behind me, but the air around her turns black.
I wake with a gasp.
For a moment, I’m not sure where I am. I look up, but there’s no ribbon fluttering softly overhead, just coils from th
e bunk above. I take in the smell of dirt and musk and sink back into the bed.
I’m not home. Wherever that is.
Aside from the squeak of a bedspring, the room is silent. I wish I could go back to sleep, but the dream felt so real, closing my eyes seems pointless.
I slip out of bed and tread lightly across the floor and into the hallway. Once outside, I sit on the fence, kicking at the long grass, wondering if I will be resigned to this. If my fascination for the perfect family will consume my life, consume my dreams. Will this unattainable goal haunt me forever? My eyes gloss over.
Gravel crunches behind me. I wipe my eyes with the heel of my palm.
“Can’t sleep?” the voice says.
I turn, barely glancing up. Gavin’s hands are in his pockets. He looks relaxed in flannel pajama pants and a white T-shirt.
“Just a bad dream, that’s all.”
“Care to talk about it?”
“Not really,” I say. But it’s a lie. The images from my sleep rattled me and I want help sorting them out. Still, my instincts warn me not to open up when Gavin’s around. How can he possibly understand how it feels to have your dream turn into a nightmare?
He leans on the fence, staring out past the field as if he can see through the trees. In the dark, the forest looks like a black wall, big and impenetrable. It’s strangely comforting. Walls are what I’m used to.
“Can I ask you something, Gavin?”
“Shoot.”
“Is this really your grandparents’ farm?”
“Did Sasha tell you that?”
“Yes.”
He stands straight, and his hands go back in his pockets. “It’s true.”
“Do they know you’re here?”
“They died shortly after my mom passed away.” He kicks a fence post as if he’s checking its stability.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice small.
“It’s just my dad now. And he probably figures Ry and I got an apartment somewhere.”
“Do Ry’s parents know he stays here?”
“They wrote Ry off when he got hooked on pills. They probably think he’s on the street, living in the Junkie District.”