by Gwen Cole
Grace wishes him luck and he leaves.
“So,” Miles starts, “anything new? Since the last time I saw you, that is. Other than needing a haircut.”
I rub the back of my neck, feeling a draft coming from somewhere. “Nothing, really. Libby called once and she might be staying with my mom.”
“Like, permanently?” Grace asks.
“Sounds like it.” I catch a glimpse of Harper coming toward us. My stomach tightens. Getting nervous all over again. She stops next to me and I hear myself say, “I think it’ll turn out all right, though.”
Grace and Harper delve into a conversation like they’ve been friends for more than a couple weeks. I shouldn’t be surprised. Harper was always like that, even when we were kids. She could start up conversations with strangers at the grocery store without thinking.
Within the short time my mind drifts, Miles says something to Grace that makes her blush—something that is very, very hard to do. As he likes to prove countless times.
But then he smirks and leans in to kiss her and I feel my face heat. Harper and I glance at each other before looking away.
It’s impossibly hard to pretend nothing happened between us.
We’re saved when someone talks into the mic, announcing the show is about to start. People cheer and push their way to the front of the stage. Packing in more tightly than I could’ve imagined.
Miles leans in so I can hear him over the yelling crowd. “You guys want to get closer to the front with us?”
“Nah, you guys go ahead,” I say. “We’ll hang out here.”
He nods and they both disappear in the sea of bodies. We’re about halfway from the stage, but still close enough to see the band. A few more people push by us, knocking Harper into me. I grab her arm to steady her, feeling her soft skin under my fingers.
She flashes a smile. “Thanks.”
“Are shows always like this?”
She steps away again, our arms close to brushing. “Usually, yeah.”
The music starts up, a piano riff along with some soft drums that slowly build. The lights flash over the screaming crowd, more deafening than the band.
But I don’t take my eyes off Harper.
The room pulses with life. The music hits its climax. The floor shakes with bass and people jumping.
But my heart is only pounding because of her. I want to close the distance between us. To be near her. To feel her fingers twined with mine.
Just when I gain the courage to say something, a gunshot goes off somewhere behind me. I flinch and bump into someone standing next to me.
“Dude, what’s your problem?” he yells.
“Kale, are you all right?” Her hand is on my arm, her eyes worried. “It was just someone setting off a firecracker or something.”
My head starts to spin inside itself. Too fast.
Cigarette smoke fills my lungs, reminding me of somewhere far away.
Somewhere white and red.
Lights from the stage flash above. Flares in the night sky. A warning of something worse to come.
Someone screaming. Everyone screaming.
More gunshots go off behind me and I close my eyes. Try to make them disappear. Make myself disappear.
I don’t want to go back there.
I’m cold. My hands shake, and I’m too afraid to open my eyes.
To see something I don’t want to.
I don’t want to be there. Not now.
Not when I’m with her.
I can’t.
Everything flashes black.
Then someone whispers my name. “Kale.”
Then louder. “Kale!”
I open my eyes. Harper is crouched next to me on the floor, trying to find me when I’m right here in front of her. My body trembles. The clash of cymbals causes me to flinch again. My hands won’t cover my ears because they’re still shaking.
“Kale, look at me.”
Harper’s hand rests against my face, willing my gaze to meet hers.
“It’s okay,” she says, staring into me. “Take my hand. I’ll get you out of here.”
Her skin feels so warm against mine. I let her pull me up and lead me through the crowd. I can’t get enough air. The cymbals crash once more and the lights flash. When my head starts spinning again, I can only hear the racing beat of my heart.
I’m barely able to hang on. To this time and to this life.
A door opens ahead of me and fresh air hits my lungs. Every time I blink, something flashes that I don’t want to see. The images overcome me, and soon I can’t open my eyes at all.
All I see is Adams lying dead in the snow. Staring up and mouthing words I can’t make out. I scream at him but my voice doesn’t work. I can’t move or close my eyes. I can only stand there and stare while his blood melts the snow beneath him.
“Kale, open your eyes.”
I can’t open my eyes because they’re already open. I want to close them, not open them. I want to disappear and never come back.
“Please, Kale.” Harper’s voice pushes through my thoughts. “Don’t leave yet.”
I open my eyes to a silent world. I’m sitting in an alleyway, my back pressed against a brick wall. Harper kneels in front of me. My heartbeat starts to slow, my hands shake less. My jeans are damp because I’m sitting in a puddle left over from the rain.
I’m still here.
I’m still here.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
She gives me the smallest smile. “It’s not something you have to apologize for.”
I take a deep breath, rubbing my hands over my eyes, but they keep going until my fingers are buried under my hat. “I thought I was gone for sure.”
“But you’re not.”
The music hums from inside the building. I drop my hands and stare at my jeans. I’ve never felt so weak. “Only because of you,” I say.
I know Harper is the only reason I’m still here. Without her, I would be gone.
Seventy years into the past.
There’s no doubt.
It starts to rain again. A few drops fall from the sky, slapping softly against the pavement around us. “You don’t have to be ashamed, Kale. A lot of people who’ve been in war go through things like this.”
“But none of them probably have to fight themselves to stay in the present.”
“Is that what it’s usually like, when you go?”
“No, it’s never happened like this before.” I finally look up at Harper, wondering what she thinks of me. “It’s usually just my dreams at night. That’s why I can never sleep for too long.”
The rain comes down in full, sprouting droplets around us.
Harper’s knee is pressed to her chest, her arms folded around it. She ignores the rain soaking her hair. “But you did last night,” she says.
“I did.” I smile and shiver at the same time. I push myself up and Harper stands with me. Drops of water drip from the bill of my hat. “Again, only because of you.”
“You keep saying that,” she says.
“Because it’s true.”
My body trembles with cold, and for the second time tonight, Harper takes my hand. “Come on, let’s go home.”
After dropping off Harper, I go home and expect to find Dad already in bed. But when I walk through the door, he’s asleep on the couch.
I’m still on edge from earlier tonight, but I can’t make myself walk past him.
I gently shake his shoulder. “Dad?”
His eyes blink open and he sits up, taking me in. “Kale?” He glances at the clock. “You’re back.”
I just look at him. “I said I would be, didn’t I?”
He glances away quickly and gets up. “I meant early,” he says.
“Oh, well, it didn’t go as long as I thought it would.”
He looks over me, still trying to wake up. “You should get to bed then. I don’t want to be woken up by you banging around somewhere.”
But before I turn to go,
I ask, “Is everything all right?”
“Yeah … yeah, everything’s fine. Go to bed.”
Dad heads for the stairs and I stand there, wondering how to make things normal between us.
26.
Harper
I spend a good part of the night staring up at my ceiling, thinking about Kale and the other world he has to live through. Even though he denies it, I know things aren’t well at home for him either, and I hate feeling like I can do nothing to help him.
When morning finally comes, shining through the trees still dripping from last night’s rain, I go downstairs to find Uncle Jasper sitting at the table. Toast and coffee are already in front of him while he scratches letters into today’s crossword. The mug sitting on the table shows a giraffe wearing a winter hat.
After grabbing a bowl and some cereal, I get the milk from the fridge and slide into my chair. The tile is cold under my bare feet and the wooden chair isn’t comfortable to sit in this early in the morning.
“Did you have a good time last night?” Uncle Jasper asks.
“Yeah, I guess.” I pour some cereal and I feel like he’s waiting for more of an answer, so I say, “It was good to get out of the house.”
Without looking over he says, “What’s a four-letter word for ‘too old to be fun’?”
I look at him pointedly. “You know what I mean.” I watch him pencil in more letters, trying to remember if he ever did them when I was younger. “When did you start doing crosswords?”
“A few years ago.” He pauses and looks up, one hand slipping into the handle of his mug. “It helps to keep my mind distracted from the times when she would normally be here.”
It’s an answer I wasn’t at all expecting. “Does it work?”
A small, sad smile appears. “Sometimes.” He puts his pencil down and his eyes shift between me and a certain spot on the table. “You know, when I first found out about Kale and his ability, I asked him something very selfish of me. Of course, now I know he can’t change the past and I would do anything to take back what I asked of him. But even though I knew there was probably nothing Kale could do to change anything, I wanted to see her again. Just once more.” Uncle Jasper takes a deep breath, trying to smile.
“You shouldn’t feel guilty for asking that,” I say. “Anyone would have done the same thing.”
“But I do, especially these days when he’s going through something much worse than I ever have.” He picks up his pencil again, but he doesn’t write more words into the squares. He’s thinking about something else. “I keep confessing things to you, and I don’t know why. All you do is sit there and it just comes out.”
“Maybe I should become a therapist,” I joke.
“Or maybe you should study something actually worthwhile.”
I laugh a little, still thinking about Kale and what happened last night. “Does Kale ever have, like … panic attacks, or anything?”
His hand pauses over the paper and he looks up. “Did something happen last night?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know what. One minute he was fine, and the next he was really freaked out. He was shaking and his skin was cold, and I didn’t know what else to do but get him out of there. For a moment I thought he would disappear before I got him outside. It was like he was seeing something that wasn’t there.”
Uncle Jasper taps the pencil eraser to his chin. “Did something happen right before that? Something that might have triggered it?”
I shrug once. “I think someone set off a cherry bomb or something, but it wasn’t very loud.”
Uncle Jasper nods, like he knows something I don’t. “That was probably it then. Have you ever heard of post-traumatic stress disorder?” I nod and he continues. “It’s common when a person has been through a war, or even so much as a bad car accident—it depends on the person.”
“So, you think that’s what happened?”
“I have no doubt.” For the first time since I’ve lived here, there’s a tinge of real anger behind his eyes. He blinks it away as fast as it came. “It’s something nobody deserves to go through. All we can do is be there for him.” Uncle Jasper gets up from the table and puts his dishes in the sink. His face is wiped of all emotion. “I’ve got to get going. I’ll only be gone for a few hours, then maybe I’ll take a look at those brakes for you.”
I nod as he walks out.
I pour some milk over my cereal, listening to the diminishing sounds of his truck. It’s hard to be here without Aunt Holly. The house doesn’t smell the same. Uncle Jasper doesn’t smile as much. The food doesn’t even taste right. I can only imagine what it would be like if she were still alive.
There’s a small knock on the backdoor, and I look up to see Kale standing on the other side of the screen. He smiles and gives a small wave. Again, I’m reminded of the kiss we shared days ago.
“You’re still here,” I say, trying to sound normal.
“For now, anyway. Can I come in?”
I nod and continue eating my cereal. The screen door shuts behind him and he sits in the chair opposite me. He looks more tired than he did yesterday.
“Did Uncle Jasper already leave?”
“Just a few minutes ago.”
Kale glances back at the counter. “He didn’t finish his toast.”
“The wrong subject came up.”
“Aunt Holly?”
I nod and push my bowl away, feeling slightly sick. Kale swipes the hair away from his eyes. It’s getting a little too long to keep tame—no wonder he wore his hat last night.
I push my chair back from the table. “You should get your hair cut.” I put the milk and cereal away, having to close the refrigerator twice before it stays shut. Stupid thing is too old—always has been.
“And who’s going to do it?” he asks. “You?”
I give him a one shoulder shrug. “Sure.”
“Really?”
“I’m not too bad,” I admit. “I used to cut this neighbor kid’s hair because he didn’t want to spend the money. Besides, you don’t need much off. Just a trim.”
He mulls over it for a little while and then agrees. “Okay.”
I find the pair of scissors upstairs—the same pair Aunt Holly used when my own hair got too long all those summers ago. When I come back downstairs, I pull a chair in the middle of the kitchen. “Do you want to take your shirt off so it won’t be itchy the rest of the day?”
He flashes me a smile and pulls his T-shirt off. Once he’s sitting in the chair, I wrap a towel around his shoulders and wet his hair using a spray bottle.
I hesitate before touching his hair, and when I do, it drapes like black silk over my fingers. I feel my breathing thin, and I start cutting before my mind has the chance to wander any further. While I’m trimming the bangs that hang over his forehead, his eyes flicker to meet mine. There’s more blue in them today. A gray and blue storm.
Stay focused.
I try to keep my heart even and make sure I don’t cut my own fingers. After I think I’m done, I set the scissors on the table and finish by running my fingers through his hair, checking the lengths of the layers I cut. As my fingers trace over his scalp, Kale closes his eyes and lets out a soft groan.
“You have no idea how good that feels,” he murmurs.
My fingers freeze in place. I step back and take the towel from around his shoulders. Kale catches my wrist, gently sliding his fingers over my skin. He looks up and says, “Thank you. For more than just the haircut.”
I can only nod. With Kale sitting there, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and his hair still wet and dark, it’s the only thing I can manage to do. Kale stands and slips his T-shirt over his head. Needing to put more space between us, I take a step back until my lower back presses against the counter.
Kale meets my gaze again with a strange expression. One that’s a mixture of uncertainty and daringness.
“I—” He glances away, his breathing deep.
“What?”
H
is gray-blue eyes lock with mine. “I really want to kiss you right now. For real this time.”
“And what was it last time?”
“A dream.” Kale takes a step toward me. He’s close now, barely inches away.
“Maybe you should, then.” The words are out of my mouth before I can so much as register what I’ve said. And I don’t regret them.
When Kale leans in and kisses me, I wonder if it will feel like this every time. So new and so horribly addicting. My fingers find the bottom of his T-shirt and slip underneath, softly trailing over his skin where it dips in along his spine. His kiss deepens, his fingers sliding through my hair. I want to pull him in closer to me, to feel every inch of his back and every muscle flexing beneath.
Kale breaks away and gives me a one-sided smile, showing his dimple. “It’s dangerous for me to be alone with you.”
“I could say the same thing.”
The front door slams shut. Kale steps away and leans against the opposite counter. I dig my hands into my pockets as Uncle Jasper walks into the kitchen. The memory of Kale’s skin is still fresh, probably making my cheeks redder than they should be.
“You back already?” I ask.
“No, I forgot my wallet.” He grabs it from the table and nods to Kale. “You get your hair cut?”
“Yeah, Harper just did it for me.”
My uncle eyes the clippings of hair still on the floor and looks up at me. “Huh. Maybe I’ll have you do mine later.” He sticks his wallet in his back pocket and walks out. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he yells as the front door shuts behind him.
Kale and I glance at each other, and I have to hold back a laugh. I still can’t believe what happened. When we kissed down at the river, it felt secret and something neither of us would ever talk about. But here in the kitchen, where we’ve spent countless hours eating, playing board games, and making fun of Uncle Jasper’s bad jokes, it’s more real than ever.
It really happened.
I push myself away from the counter and grab the broom to sweep up the hair on the floor. I need to do something to distract myself. “Did you call Miles about last night?” I ask.
“I called him this morning,” he says. “I told him something came up and we couldn’t stay the whole time.”