by Gwen Cole
“I don’t know if he should.” Jeremy adds, “He might run off on us. Last year my dog ran off the moment the fireworks started. We couldn’t find him for days.”
I stare back at Todd, daring him to say something.
He says, smiling, “Sounds about right.”
I take a step forward, but Bryce puts his hand on my chest, pushing me back. “Leave it alone, Kale.”
Jeremy and Todd laugh about something again, muttering words too low for me to hear. I hate the way they look at me. I hate the way my own brother looks at me.
My gaze settles on Bryce, voicing thoughts I’ve held in for too long. “Why, so you can pretend our family is like theirs? So you can pretend nothing is ever wrong?” I ask, keeping my voice low. Looking into his eyes is hard because they’re too similar to Dad’s.
I turn to go, but he grabs my arm.
Todd says from behind him, “You sure you don’t want him to come, Bryce? We could always use him to—”
“Leave him alone, Todd. He gets enough shit as it is.”
“So that’s what you see me as?” I shrug away from him. “A pity project?”
Then Bryce shrugs right back and asks, “What else am I supposed to see you as?”
His friends laugh, but this time he joins them. Jeremy and Todd grab the bags of ice and push past me and out the door.
And without saying anything, Bryce follows them.
I stand in the hallway and listen as they all pile into Bryce’s truck. They shut the doors and the engine roars to life.
Then they’re gone.
And I wish I was.
All over again.
5.
Harper
Within six hours, I’m standing next to a river in the middle of the city, surrounded by skyscrapers except for this little forgotten park where Grace said we’re meeting her friends.
There’s a wide bank along the river where people lounge in the grass or sit on coolers they brought with them. A few people are wading into the water, the ones not thinking to wear shorts have their jeans rolled up to their knees. Somewhere there’s a guy playing guitar, and there’s laughter and accusing voices from those making jokes, and water splashing from girls trying to get out before their boyfriends realize they’re wearing white T-shirts.
“Grace!”
We both turn at her name being called, but she reacts before I do—she’d been expecting it.
A guy our age walks over to us wearing a black short-sleeved button up shirt. His dark hair and angular eyes remind me of a girl back home who was Japanese American.
When he smiles at Grace, I have no doubt about their relationship with each other. Even I have to admit they make a cute couple, like the kind you always root for in those stupid TV shows you can’t help but watch. Which I would probably now be watching if I weren’t here.
“What took you so long?” he asks, giving her a quick kiss on the lips. When they break apart, he adds, “Another minute longer, and that girl over there was about to drag me into the woods without my consent.”
“You poor thing,” she says, patting his cheek, keeping one arm around his waist. “Maybe if you didn’t spend so long on your hair, you wouldn’t have that problem.”
“You love my hair,” he says low.
It feels like I’m watching something I shouldn’t be.
“Not if it’s attracting other girls.”
“You know it’s not just my hair that—”
Grace puts a finger on his lips. “We have company.”
They both turn, and I can’t tell if they’re messing with me. So I just smile and stand there, not knowing what to say.
“This is Miles,” she says. “Don’t be afraid to be bold with him.”
Miles cocks his head and looks back at me. “She must like you, because she doesn’t give that kind of advice to anyone.”
“Thanks?”
He nods assuringly.
“And Miles,” Grace smiles at me, “this is Harper.”
Some sort of recognition dawns over his face. “Wait … Harper Croft?” Miles asks. “The Harper Croft?” He quickly looks at Grace. “Are you messing with me? Is this really her?”
“Am I missing something?” I ask.
Miles says, “We never thought you actually existed. Well, Grace did—for some reason—but your name comes up so much I really thought you were imaginary.”
“Miles, he showed us a picture,” Grace says, looking up at him. “How is that not enough proof?”
“Photoshop?”
“You have serious problems.”
I finally step in. “Wait, how do you know my name?” But what I’m really asking is, how do they know me?
“Kale,” Miles says. “Sometimes your uncle, but mostly Kale.”
Grace nods in agreement.
Kale.
Miles and Grace talk again—more to each other than to me, just as before—but I can’t grasp anything they’re saying. Since I got here yesterday, I kept wondering if Kale would remember me, or even care that I’m around again. I know he’s not the same boy he used to be—just like I’m not the same girl. Time changes so many things, and I was afraid this would be one of them.
“You guys know Kale?”
Miles says, “I’ve been friends with him since I moved here a few years ago. And Grace has known him since we started dating.”
“A year next month,” she adds.
“Will he be here tonight?” I feel stupid for asking. We live next door to each other, so why can’t I just go over to see him? Or better yet, call and text him.
Miles shrugs one shoulder and glances around. “I haven’t heard from him in a few days, so I’m not sure.” Before I can ask him anything else, a few boys come over and talk to Miles and Grace—people from school I’ll probably know better in the fall. The sun has set now, and it’s almost dark enough for the fireworks to start. While Grace talks with another girl nearby, I slip away to the edge of the water, dipping my fingers in to see if it’s cold. It’s warmer than I thought it’d be.
“Harper?”
I look up to see a blond guy standing over me—someone I feel I should recognize. I stand and wipe my wet hand across my jeans, noticing the weird smile he’s giving me. “Yes?”
“I don’t know if you remember me,” he says, “but you came over to my house a few times the last summer you were here.”
I reel through the foggy memories, and a name finally surfaces. “Conner,” I say. “You always used to push people into the pool.”
Conner smiles and gives me a single nod. “I guess I’m more memorable than I thought. Your uncle was over at our house a few weeks back, and he mentioned you were coming to live with him. It’s good to see you again.”
“Yeah, good to see you, too. Now I’ll know more than two people when school starts.”
“Well, look,” he says. “I’m having a few friends over next week, and I can introduce you to more people. You won’t be the new kid at school. You can be the newish kid. Trust me, it makes all the difference.”
“A few friends, huh? If I remember correctly, the last time you had a few friends over, your kitchen caught fire.”
“Technicalities,” he says, grinning again. “So what do you say? There’s not much to do around here anyway.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I needed to hear,” Conner says, turning to go. “See you around, Harper.”
As I watch Conner go back to his group of friends, I spot someone new coming out of the woods, and the way he moves makes me pause only long enough for me to realize it’s true.
It’s Kale.
Even when time has changed us both, I know it’s him. Even twenty years from now, I could still pick him out of the crowd. There are some things that stick with you forever, even if that something is a person. He definitely looks different—the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his shoulders curve, even the way he stands. Older.
Despite the differences, it
’s so familiar—how it feels like he’s here but he isn’t. It’s the same way I felt all those years ago. Seeing him is something special, because you don’t know the next time you’ll get to. Even though Kale’s habit of disappearing for days at a time probably ended years ago, the presence of it is still here. It makes me wonder.
Kale stands there looking at Miles as he talks with his friends, the expression on his face unreadable. He’s wearing an unzipped sweatshirt, exposing a black T-shirt underneath, his hands buried deep into the pockets of his jeans. His dark hair lays across his forehead the same way it used to—something that hasn’t changed.
His eyes shift to me.
And for a split second—before Miles yells his name, dragging his attention away—the smallest of smiles touches his lips. It disappears as quick as it came—leaving only a memory in its wake.
Then when Kale talks, I feel like something is wrong, and it hits me. He’s not smiling. The Kale I used to know smiled almost constantly—it came as naturally to him as breathing. Everyone smiles when they talk, even in the slightest way, at the beginning or end. But Kale stands there and listens, saying a few words in response without changing his expression, even when his friends laugh.
I start toward them, trying not to look at Kale and trying to ignore the fact I’m trying not to. Get ahold of yourself, Harper.
I catch his eye as I come closer, wondering what I’m going to say to someone I haven’t seen in six years.
“Kale,” Grace says, “can you please tell Miles that he owes me ten bucks? We had a deal.”
“A deal we never shook on,” Miles argues. “Doesn’t count.”
“You’re full of shit,” Grace says, but she’s smiling.
Miles looks over at me when I get close, then glances down at my feet. “Your shoes are untied.”
I don’t look, knowing he’s right. But when I open my mouth, Kale says for me, “They’re always untied.”
I finally look at him, silently cursing the sun for making the day turn to night so I can’t see the color of his eyes. But even without them, I get this feeling in the pit of my stomach that makes me smile, even if it’s small and barely noticeable. It’s only the edge of what I cannot contain.
I don’t know what to say to him, so I say, “Hey.”
“Hey,” he says back.
I want to hug him like old friends do, but he doesn’t make a move toward me.
“How’s Libby?” I finally ask, grateful that Miles and Grace are talking to each other again and not paying us any attention. “Uncle Jasper said she’s staying at your mom’s for the summer.”
“She’s good,” he says, “but she hates that she won’t see you until school starts.” Still no smile, something that would normally follow that sentence and tone. “She tried to back out of going, but Mom wouldn’t let her.”
“It’ll be good to see her again. I texted her earlier but it’s not the same.”
He nods.
This isn’t the reunion I’d imagined. I hate the space between us and the forced talk. But it’s impossible to pick up where we left off. Too much time has passed. That’s becoming clearer and clearer.
Miles is talking again. I don’t hear what he says, but Kale pulls his eyes from mine and says, “You said that last year, and I don’t have to remind you what happened,” not missing a beat.
“But this year I’m serious,” he says.
Grace rolls her eyes and leans over to say, “Miles wants to get into the Demolition Derby. He tries every year, and every year—”
“—I get really close,” he says, looking at me like I’m the one he needs to convince. “No matter how many crashes this car is in, it’ll just keep going. I really feel like this is my year.”
“And notice,” Kale adds, “that ‘crashes’ is plural.”
“You’re just jealous because your piece of sh—”
“Careful,” Kale warns. His mouth curves up in the slightest way.
Stop staring, Harper.
But Miles smiles, knowing how to push Kale in ways only a close friend would. It makes me miss what we had with each other. It makes me miss him and wonder if we’ll ever have that again. Even when we’re standing mere feet away from each other, there’s still this wall between us that only time and distance could’ve made.
The first firework goes off over the river, and everyone moves toward the water, finding a place to sit or stand to watch the show. The boom echoes, followed by another a second later. Miles and Grace sit down in the grass together, looking up at the blackening sky that’s now full of color.
Kale isn’t next to Miles anymore, and I look around, trying to spot him. Every face is lifted to the sky, the fireworks lighting up the features of the strangers around me. Except one.
He’s walking away toward the woods, his shoulders stiff. I step around the people on the ground and go after him. He’s about to disappear into the woods when I call his name. The fireworks keep going off, but he hears me and turns around.
“You’re leaving?”
“I have to get home.”
I’m stupid for following him, especially since I don’t have anything else to say. “I guess I’ll see you later then.” I want to kick myself.
Kale nods and turns to go, but then something changes his mind and he turns back to me. “I remember what you promised me,” he says, flinching when another firework goes off. “But is it still true?”
That day by the river. He still remembers. But that would mean nothing has changed.
“Of course it is,” I say, not hesitating.
Kale nods, glances up at the sky with hunched shoulders, and then he’s gone.
I stand there and think back on that day. It suddenly doesn’t seem that long ago.
We went swimming in the river and Libby had to leave early, so it was only me and Kale. We were lying in the grass, letting the sun dry us.
We’d been quiet for a long time when he looked over, his eyes stormier than an angry spring rain. “You never ask me where I go,” he said. “Everyone else does, but not you. Why?”
“I don’t care where you go,” I said, “as long as you come back.”
Kale always kept his disappearances a secret from me—from his family, too, though I wasn’t sure.
A few seconds passed before he spoke again. “I’m sick of people asking about it. But when I’m around you, I feel like I don’t have to deal with it. It’s nice.”
“I’ll never ask where you go, Kale. I promise.” The river flowed by, the clouds skimmed the sky, but he never once took his eyes off mine. “But you have to promise me something in return.”
“What?”
“Promise me you’ll always come back.”
And he did.
6.
Kale
I couldn’t stay.
The moment the first firework went off in the black sky, I knew I couldn’t do it.
To me, they are flares in the night.
Warnings of something worse to come.
It’s hard keeping both worlds separate when something like this happens. When one place reminds me of the other. So much that my skin goes cold, and I can’t think, and I could be seconds away from traveling. It’s been happening more and more often.
As I walk away from the river, my back toward the colors in the sky, I focus on the path in front of me.
I feel Harper behind me. Watching me leave.
Because it’s what I do best.
I reach the parking lot. My old, discolored Mustang sits waiting for me and I get in. The engine roars to life, drowning the sounds that make my hands shake. I turn the radio up loud to mute them completely and just focus on leaving the parking lot.
I shouldn’t have come tonight, but part of me is glad I did. I left before Dad got home—I couldn’t sit in that house another minute longer, waiting for him to walk through the door. Something that would only result in stiff questions from him and single word answers from me. Making that distance between u
s even clearer.
But seeing Harper again made me think of what I used to be like before everything went to shit. I hadn’t expected to see her tonight, even though Uncle Jasper told me she was coming back.
Sometimes time goes by faster than I think it does.
The days blur together in a never ending pattern.
But seeing her again … I don’t know, it just put me at ease. Just for a moment, it reminded me of the days when my life was easier. So much less complicated. Days when I never had the deaths of my friends on my mind.
I can still feel his blood on my skin.
Even after taking a shower until the water ran cold, I couldn’t seem to get it off. No matter what I did, there was still red.
The truth can’t be scrubbed away.
I grip the steering wheel harder and slam on the brakes. It sends a cloud of dust spiraling into the wind, my brake lights shining behind me until it’s gone and everything is still.
I breathe heavily.
My heart pounds against my chest.
Even though the summer is warm, my skin is cold—a constant reminder.
I found out a long time ago that it’s easier to keep my life here separate from where I go. When I’m here, in my time, I can’t allow myself to think about what happens when I leave. I can’t think about the things I see, or the people who die.
It’s the only way I can stay sane.
But it’s never been this hard.
These days it’s nearly impossible.
I can’t stop thinking about Adams. And I can’t stop thinking about the hundreds of other guys I’ve seen die right next to me. Hearing their voices one last time until they become forever silent.
I close my eyes and press my head to the steering wheel.
I miss the easy days when travel didn’t mean war. It was just me in different times—playing with kids in the street and watching debuts of movies I considered classic, but they considered brand new. My favorite decade is the seventies, just because I never know what I’m going to find or see.
I don’t want to go home.
But I have nowhere else to go.
The moment I walk in the door, I can feel it’s not a good night.