The Knowers (The Exiled Trilogy)

by Merry Brown

  Friday finally arrived. There wasn’t a rigid regimen waiting for us. The whole goal of the trip, apparently, was for us to “experience nature.” That meant wandering around, exploring, and being spontaneous.

  Of course we couldn’t let any kind of nature take its course. We were soundly warned and threatened with expulsion if any guy found his way to the girl’s tent area and vice versa.

  I was looking forward to this trip; time with Lizzy and the added bonus of being out of the house for most of the weekend.

  We loaded up the buses. I got on Lizzy’s bus with the hope of hanging out with her on the ride up. As soon as I got aboard I could see I wouldn’t get any time with her this weekend. She was surrounded by three or four girls and deep in conversation. At least my guitar would keep me company.

  When we got there I found out I was sharing a tent with two other guys in my P.E. class, Jarrod and Kyle. They both seemed nice enough, but were obviously intimidated by me. I was surprised I didn’t have a tent to myself.

  If John and Michael had transferred to the new school, we’d be here together, messing around. Instead, I’m staying with two guys who I know wish I wasn’t assigned to them.

  The thought of being here with so many and yet feeling alone made me want to escape the noise and games. I wandered for a while through the forest until I found a large boulder just off the path, a little way up the massive mountain.

  The pine trees were arranged in jagged rows, their needles and cones covering the ground. The air was quiet, save for the occasional bird-song. Nature always filled me with longing. It was such an excess; as if too much beauty existed in nature, there wasn’t enough left over for the human race. We were left fighting for the few remaining scraps.

  Being in nature usually cleared my mind, a fact my foggy head won’t let me recall. Therefore I spent next to no time in nature, ironically, because it was the one place I really needed to be!

  For the longest time I watched the forest, playing my guitar and humming softly to myself. I let her immense grandeur wash over me, calm me. I watched the forest for its hidden secrets and its unseen seeing eyes.

  In the middle of my fit of abstraction I saw a pair of familiar eyes staring back at me. I rocked back and nearly fell off the boulder. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone.

  “Care if I join you? I heard you playing and wanted to hear more. You really are gifted, you know,” Lizzy said.

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mind me. I’m just going to read my book.”

  No, I didn’t mind at all.

  She sat down on a smaller boulder to the right of me, her book in hand.

  She read and I played.

  I tried to go back to my thoughts, but it was impossible. I kept expecting her to put her book down and talk to me, comment on the trees or weather or something. Nothing. She was silent.

  It was peaceful here, in the woods, with her. Or at least it should’ve been. Instead, my stomach started to twist and turn like I’d eaten too many sweet-tarts.

  I watched as she set her book aside and stretched her arms over her head. She lay down, staring into the clear blue sky.

  She closed her eyes after a while and I studied her face. We were just talking about Greek art in history. The Greeks thought something was beautiful if it was symmetrical. Most faces weren’t, of course. The nose would have a bump or dent, ears not in exactly the same place, something out of place. I stared at her, trying to see her flaws, looking for her scars. Not even a zit!

  Her completely clear olive skin seemed to reflect the sun. I felt the sudden overwhelming impulse to hold her, feel her.

  I couldn’t stand it anymore; I had to hear her voice. “It’s utterly amazing here,” I said, my heart pounding in my ears. “The beauty is overwhelming, impossible to take in.”

  “Yes, utterly amazing,” she hummed.

  “So unlike Bakersfield, that barren wasteland,” I said dryly.

  “I couldn’t disagree with you more.” She had propped herself up on her elbows. “The valley has such a vast sky that goes on forever. On a clear day you can see how the mountains completely surround our valley.”

  “On a clear day,” I interrupted. Not too many of those.

  “That’s not the valley’s fault.” She continued down her list. “The color of the light brown dirt, the way each unique tumbleweed blows down the field when the wind picks up, shall I go on?” she asked with a smile.

  No one, and I mean no one, has ever defended the virtue of my hometown. It was the butt of national, probably international, jokes. Was she joking?

  “I’m serious.” She could see the question on my face. “Bakersfield has a subtle beauty,” she said as she lay back down.

  “Beautiful?” I really tried to make sense of that word in reference to my town. I just couldn’t make it fit.

  “Yes, Beautiful. Don’t you know, Will? Beauty will redeem us all,” she said in a soft murmur.

  “Beauty will redeem us all,” I repeated. I knew she believed it. Believed it fervently, and I had not a clue what she meant. I did know, in this moment, she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

  The sun began to set, and I was reluctant to admit it was time to find our way back to the camp site.

  The dinner menu was textbook camping food: hot dogs, self-cooked over the fire, chips, fruit, and soda. After a sufficient amount of hog dogs were lost to the flames, it was time to torture marshmallows. More people used their allotted marshmallows as make-shift lanterns than ate them on their s’mores.

  There’s something mesmerizing about pushing a marshmallow on a stick, putting it in the fire and watching it catch, turning from pure white and squishy to black and crispy.

  Lizzy and I ate and joked around. She teased me over my inability to keep a marshmallow from sliding off my stick and into the fire, and I poked back about the lame toasting stick she found.

  Around 11 p.m. Ms. Codwell rounded up the campers and led the way to a huge field. We were to lie on our backs and look up at the stars for ½ an hour without saying a word to anyone. When the time was up we were to find a partner and explain what we saw.

  Silence is hard. Some were unable to handle it. I could hear hushed whispers and giggles along with the occasional ray from the ones who’d smuggled their phones on the trip.

  Of the few rules we had, the biggest was that cell phones, iPods, video games, and any kind of technological media were banned. They were not to be taken on the trip. It was funny to see girls walking around, empty handed, not knowing what do to.

  I liked my media, but could go without it for a while. Not everyone felt the same. I realized I never saw Lizzy on a cell or with earphones on. She was always with people. Wherever she was, she was there, not appearing to wish she were somewhere else.

  I knew I was supposed to be watching the night sky, but I opted for watching Lizzy watch the stars.

  As I studied her, an immense sense of contentment spread over me. I’ve been generally ill-at-ease for so long now, peacefulness was an odd sensation. Like a wave of cool spring water splashed on throbbing feet after a long day on the trail.

  I closed my eyes, taking in this wonderful new sensation. I opened my eyes with a smile on my face to see Lizzy turned on her side, watching me. I had an irresistible impulse to reach over and touch her face.

  Before I could act Ms. Codwell announced, “Time’s up. Now pick a partner and tell them what you saw.”

  Skyler came over to partner-up with Lizzy just as Lizzy turned toward me. I wanted to say to Skyler, Go Away! Find your own partner, I was here first. I didn’t want to lose this time with Lizzy, but I knew that’s exactly what was going to happen.

  Instead of making Lizzy choose between the two of us, I began to pull myself off the grass to let the two of them “share their feelings about the stars.” Lizzy reached over and grabbed my hand, sending an electric shock through my spine.

  “Don’t leave, William. Why don’t you stay with us? We can
all share together.’’

  My hand still in hers, I sat back down. She gently took her hand back and closed her eyes, inhaling slowly as if trying to shake off something . . . something foreign. Could it be the same unknown feelings running through my body?

  Skyler started. I tried to listen, but all I could hear was the hammering of my heart. All I could see was the unusual amount of effort Lizzy was expending to listen to Skyler. Lizzy was not the kind of person prone to distraction. I knew her well enough to see she was fighting to forget whatever was on her mind, to be present for Skyler.

  When Skyler finished emoting, she excused herself to find the bathroom. Lizzy and I turned to each other and both began laughing. Quietly. Nervously.

  Time passed, but I didn’t notice or care. We sat there silently together. She was pulling up individual blades of grass and twisting them between her fingers, releasing their fragrance and placing the used strands on my boots.

  I had too much to say, and yet the silence between us was more perfectly placed than any words I could string together.

  And then, almost unconsciously, I reached for her hand as she decorated my shoe. I must have caught her off guard for as I touched the top of her hand she jumped slightly. In the moment I touched her, I could have sworn I saw an actual light emanating from her chest. It was almost gone the instant I saw it. I froze as she looked up at me, smiled, and continued to sit thoughtfully by my side, pulling grass.

  Ms. Codwell blew her whistle, signifying it was midnight and time to head in. As we parted ways she nudged my shoulder with hers and said a soft goodnight.

  I walked to my tent in a daze. Today was a perfect day. I would not ruin it by overanalyzing it. I would just enjoy it for whatever it was. I went to sleep feeling good in my own skin, actually grateful to be me.

  I awoke early to the smell of fire and pancakes. Jarrod and Kyle were still sleeping, so I put on my boots and tried, rather unsuccessfully, to quietly unzip the tent.

  I noted that while most of the guys were still snoring, most of the girls were up; showered with hair and make-up perfectly in place, as if they were ready to go to the mall, not embrace nature.

  I scanned the girls in search of Lizzy. What would I feel when I saw her? What would I see in her today? Last night felt like a dream, the best I’ve ever had. Was it just me? Did I imagine the deep connection we had, or did she feel it too?

  I made my way to the serving table, trying to act inconspicuous as I continued to look for her. I went through the line: giant pancakes and charred sausages. I began to wonder whether she was awake yet or still sacked-out.

  Just then I heard her behind me, laughing with a group of girls who were going through the breakfast line. I recognized the girls from our P.E. class.

  They were all chattering a mile a minute as they got their food and headed for a patch of grass to sit on. Lizzy stopped and said, “Good morning Will. Hope you had a good night’s sleep.”

  For some dumb reason I couldn’t think of anything to say, probably because I wanted to be profound or witty or both, but my mind was blank.

  When she didn’t get a response from me she continued, “I think you know Becki, Cindy, Jackie, and Lisa. We all have P.E. together, and we are tent mates.”

  I recovered myself. “Hey,” I said, half waving to the girls, three of which were half way to the grassy spot they’d spied.

  Becki stayed with Lizzy.

  “How was your night?” I asked, but was sure of the answer from the dark circles under her eyes.

  “We stayed up all night talking,” Becki said. “We finally went to bed around 4…or was it 5? It doesn’t matter. We can all sleep later.”

  It seemed like Lizzy wanted to stay and talk with me, but Becki took her arm and began to drag her backwards to the waiting girls.

  “Well I guess I’m off,” she said with a laugh. I could see her expression change, as if she was saying goodbye to what she wanted to do and focus on what she thought she should be doing.

  I was sure I wouldn’t see her for a long time; or rather, she wouldn’t see me. No matter how hard I tried throughout the morning to not notice, I was too aware of where she was and what she was doing.

  I noticed her hair was pulled on top of her head in a silly-looking lose bun, the strands that weren’t long enough to stay put were framing her face. While the other girls were in short shorts and tight shirts that showed what they had when they bent over, Lizzy wore jeans and a long-sleeve shirt. Very sensible for camping. Come to think of it, she always wore pants or long skirts and long sleeve shirts. I don’t think I’ve even seen her bare arms, or any other part of her, save for that night at Sue’s.

  Before lunch, a bunch of the guys began a game of touch football.

  Jarrod came over to me, interrupting me as I was mentally ogling Lizzy, “You want to join us Will?”

  “Sure,” I said, surprised. Being invited to play a simple game of football isn’t a big deal, but it is to me. People avoided me whenever possible. Could it be that seeing me in this very normal situation, riding on a school bus, sleeping in a tent, made me more approachable?

  Jarrod was an alright guy. I was on his team, along with Kyle. We played hard, and a little nasty. By the end of the game most of us were sweaty and covered in dirt.

  I was more than ready for a hot shower, but would wait until home. The boys’ bathroom at the camp site did offer piping hot showers, but no individual stalls. I’m not too fond of group bathing.

  Instead I put on clean clothes, grabbed my guitar and sack lunch, and headed off to find a place to play.

  I noticed Lizzy had her sack lunch too, but was going back to the tents, alone.

  “What are you up to?” I asked as I hurried to catch up with her.

  “I’m exhausted! I’m taking my lunch back to the tent to crash.”

  I hated to lose this afternoon with her. Here she was, alone for the moment, and not surrounded by girls. When would I get a chance like this again?

  “I’m going to find a spot to eat and play my guitar. Do you want to come? You could bring your sleeping bag and take this wonderful opportunity to nap in nature,” I said as lightly as I could.

  “Well, I don’t know. I really am tired,” she said trying to decide.

  I knew she was. I felt bad even asking her to come, but I wanted to be near her.

  “I do like napping in the sun…. If I come, you have to let me sleep, okay?” She said, pointing her finger at me in fun.

  “Of course, the only sound you’ll hear from me will come from my guitar.”

  She handed me her lunch as she went to get her sleeping bag. I wanted to carry it for her, but she didn’t look like she needed my help and my hands were kinda full.

  As we walked through the forest, I asked her about the girls she was with this morning. As I suspected, she had never really talked to them before yesterday, and today you would’ve thought they’d been friends since birth.

  “That’s what I thought,” I said with a laugh and smile.

  She smiled back. She always smiled back, as if she couldn’t help it.

  “What did you think?” she asked curiously.

  “You are so good at making friends. You’ve lived in Bakersfield for not even a year and you’ve made connections, real connections, with more people than I have in my entire life.”

  “I’m a people person,” she said correctly of herself. No truer statement has ever been made.

  “Yeah, but it’s more than that. It’s like you care about people before you’ve even meet them.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard love your neighbor?” she asked, half kidding.

  “It’s one thing to say it. You actually do it,” I said with a bit too much sincerity and awe. My feelings were growing and intensifying with every moment spent with her. I needed to get it together – I didn’t want to scare her off.

  She just shrugged and kept on walking, trying to stifle a yawn.

  We ended up in the field we star
gazed in last night. It was bright and warm with a gentle breeze. She unzipped her sleeping bag and spread it out on the grass.

  I wasn’t at all sure what to do. Should I go sit on it with her? Find my own spot?

  As I was trying to think through where to place my body, she motioned to me.

  “There’s plenty of room on my sleeping bag, come sit by me. I’d love to hear you play as I go to sleep.”

  I admired her confidence and sense of herself. I could feel myself oozing awkwardness, but there seemed to be not one awkward bone in her body.

  “I’ll try not to be too loud; let me know if it bothers you.”

  She smiled up at me, then laid face down on her plaid sleeping bag.

  As I picked through “Stairway to Heaven,” I thought what a strange sensation awkwardness is. I’d always been confident. I usually knew what to do and rarely felt the need to pretend or “go along with the flow.” I’d always thought my confidence stemmed from growing up early and, frankly, surviving. My confidence was a survival skill I developed and honed through the years. Without it, I would have been eaten alive, like my brother.

  As I thought of my older brother, whom I idolized, the tune I was playing unconsciously turned melancholy. I missed him, missed him more than I could express. If only he’d lived, we could’ve made it through the madness together, but instead I had to fight each and every day by myself.

  Deep in thought I was startled when she reached over and touched my knee.

  “Don’t be sad,” she said so sweetly. Her care for me was overpowering. I stopped playing and reached over to take her hand. She gently squeezed mine and rolled back on her side, drifting back to sleep.

  I began to play again but now my mind was blank. I didn’t want to think through my feelings, I didn’t want to think through Lizzy and her presence in my life, what it all meant. I just wanted to be, here, with her—Lizzy and I in nature—she, sleeping in the brilliance of the sun, while I played my favorite songs for her.