Insight

by Jolene Perry

  “I’m, um… I’m going to break it off with Brigitte.” He rubs his hand across the back of his neck.

  I can feel my forehead tense up. Is this the beginning of what I see between us? Then I remember the picture from her. “She likes you. Be nice about it.”

  His eyes widen a little. “Are you trying to make me feel worse? And why would you care? She’s not exactly nice to you.”

  “Still.” I’m used to people not liking me. “She likes you. Be nice.”

  He looks down. “I guess, uh, thanks for the warning. You might want to stay home sick tomorrow. I might.” He chuckles. “I’ll, uh, let myself out.”

  “Uh,” I tease needing to do anything to settle my nerves at being so close to him. “Okay.”

  “You’ll never give me a break, will you?” An eyebrow rises, and he mouth breaks into a crooked smile—one that tells me he doesn’t mind.

  “Sorry. Force of habit.” I can talk to him. We’re okay.

  “Work on that. Guys aren’t bright. We need breaks.” His eyes hit me, but they don’t look teasing. They look soft, and maybe like they’re looking for something. From me.

  He came here. He wanted to talk to me. And…he took my hand.

  “Later,” I say. I don’t know what else to say or do. I hear the front door close behind him. Madness. How is it that one little thing—meeting a boy and seeing one picture—can be changing things so much? I can’t believe what I’ve shared with him. I want to call Dad, but it’ll have to wait until tomorrow. I don’t want Mom to wonder why Dad’s suddenly my go-to person instead of her.

  ***

  “So, Landon stopped by. That would make it seem like you’re friends.” Mom’s drying her hair with her towel.

  “Yeah.” I begin flipping channels, unwilling to share any excitement yet. Like if I let myself say it out loud, it becomes more real. And when it doesn’t work out, it’ll just make it worse. “I guess we kind of are.”

  “You guess you kind of are.” Mom’s staring, the corner of her mouth twitches as she attempts to hold in what’s probably one of her all-knowing mom smiles.

  I keep looking at the TV. Avoid. Avoid. Avoid.

  “That sounds suspiciously like the beginnings of something.”

  “I have no idea, Mom.” I slump a little and rest the remote on my knees. “I’m confused.” I can tell her that much at least.

  “Anything I can help with?” She sits next to me, on the edge of the sofa.

  “No.” Not without me telling her more than I can. “I want to talk about Ethan.”

  “Really?” Her eyebrows rise up in disbelief.

  “I don’t know.” At least I can be honest with that.

  “Is it weird for you? For me to like someone like that?”

  “No… Yeah, but I like him and I feel good about it. Does that count?” Even if a small weight settles at the thought of sharing you?

  She puts her arm around my shoulders and pulls us together. “That counts for a lot.”

  I try to ignore the flashes of her lips against his when we touch, but I can’t. I don’t want to know this. “You’ve dated before, Mom.”

  “Not like this.” Mom’s face is relaxed, wistful.

  I’ve rarely felt bad about not sharing my visions with Mom. It seems like it would be a burden for both of us. But I feel bad now. I could tell her that I see his face for her. I could tell her what a good heart he has—I felt him looking at his daughters.

  We could talk about Landon and my face and Dad. Our close relationship suddenly doesn’t feel as close as it always has. And now it feels like I’ve lost something, even though nothing between us is different. I have no idea how to get it back.

  FOURTEEN

  “Knock, knock!” Landon’s voice comes through the doorway.

  “Shouldn’t you be at school?” I call from the couch. I should probably be at school too, but my nose is still stuffy, and I don’t have any problems catching back up.

  Also. Landon’s come knocking twice. In two days. I get this nervous thump/twitter thing going in my chest, that I really wish I could push away. I’m still afraid of hope, and I’m terrified to talk about Lacey.

  “Brigitte will definitely be hazardous today, so…no.” He walks into the living room.

  “Didn’t go well?”

  “I don’t want to talk about that.” He stops at the edge of the living room. “But no. It didn’t.” His hands slide into his pockets. “Will you do something with me?” He motions toward the door with his body, asking me to come with him.

  “What do you have in mind?” I don’t move. As much as I’d love to spend time with him, I’m scared about what I might see if we touch. I’m scared of wanting more than I can have. I’m afraid he’ll realize there’s something wrong with me. I’m afraid he’ll talk about Lacey. I’m afraid I’ll say something about Lacey. I’m afraid he still likes Brigitte. Seeing the fear/Micah vision also doesn’t sound great. And the list goes on…

  “I need out on the water.” He looks so normal. Not like he’s trying, not like’s he goofing around. Like he’s just here.

  My chest loosens, allowing me to breathe again. “On your boat?”

  “Yes.” He smiles. “On my boat.”

  I could think of nothing that would tempt me more than that. Out on the water. The fist picture I saw from Landon floods my mind—hovering over the water, flying. I want it for myself and stand up. “Let me switch my pajamas out for jeans.”

  “Those look like boy’s bottoms,” he comments as I walk to my room.

  “Boys’ pajamas are more comfy than girls. If you want me dressed when you decide to pop in, call first.” We’re now talking through my door.

  “I don’t know your number, and I think you’re one of those people who would probably always say ‘no’ over the phone.”

  He’s right. I slide on my jeans, my Keds, and walk back out.

  “Let’s get out of here.” He starts to the front door.

  “So, driving around in a boat is supposed to make us healthy enough to go back to school?” I ask.

  “Being on the water always makes me feel better. So, yeah.” He opens the front door and lets me out.

  “You’re using a great amount of self-restraint today,” I comment as we walk down the hill. He hasn’t asked me about pictures or touched me.

  “Why do you say that?” He’s a step behind.

  “Because you haven’t…” our kiss, his hands, wanting me, the boathouse…

  “Landon!” I turn and face him. “It’s not funny!” I have no idea where he touched me. His touch was too light.

  He’s laughing. “On the plus side I totally believe you because I was barely, I mean, barely touching you.”

  “Great. But I thought we were already past that hurdle.” I cross my arms.

  “So, what is it that you see?” He bends toward me, putting our faces dangerously close. Our noses almost touch the warmth of him brushes across my face. I almost lean in for my kiss right here. I’m crazy. And anyway, I saw it. I know where it happens. My fingers start to shake.

  It’s going to happen.

  I turn and start walking again, hoping he won’t see my red cheeks.

  “What?” He jogs to catch up and leans his head over my shoulder.

  I can smell his juicy fruit gum again. Without meaning to I breathe in ignoring his request but don’t stop.

  “Come on.”

  I turn to face him and stop in my tracks when something catches my eye. Shadows waver, and I know something moved in the woods this time. I know it. Something behind a tree. “Shadow.” I point.

  Shadows are trying to find the people with gifts…

  The words hit me hard, and I really need to find a new group for that history project. I swallow hard, trying to dispel the enormous lump forming in my throat.

  “What?” He spins around. “Don’t go looking for things in the trees, Micah. You’ll find something every time.”

  “Well,” I say,
my heart thumping hard. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.” I can’t look at Landon now. I’m staring into the trees at nothing, or something I don’t want to face. Or both.

  “You’ll get used to the woods here. Maybe you’d feel better if you tell me what you see when you touch me.” He chuckles.

  I push out a sigh, and start walking again. I smile because we’re close, and he’s following me, and wants to be here. He’s right anyway, if I’m looking, I’ll find something in the woods. It’s time to stop looking. I’m crazy and obsessed with a project from school, and turning a weird coincidence into something it most definitely is not.

  “Please?” He walks sideways so he can see my face.

  “I’ll tell you when it happens.” I shrug in a desperate attempt to seem casual with the lack of space between us. Anyway, it’s the answer I gave him before, and it seemed to work.

  “Wait. Does that mean you’re there?” An eyebrow rises.

  I look away quickly. Crap.

  “Awesome.”

  He wants me. He wants me as part of whatever I see. It feels so good that I don’t care how temporary his feelings might be. I want to be close to him. I like being close to him. The pictures from him just continue to move me forward and give me hope to have something I wasn’t sure I’d ever have. Or, at any moment I guess all those same things could make me run in the opposite direction.

  ***

  I sit on the massive bow of the boat, lean back on my hands, and stretch my legs in front of me.

  “Dad hid the key from me again.” He sighs as he joins me. “Sorry.”

  I’m a bit disappointed, but just stepping onto his boat was a big deal. “So, your dad’s a senator.” The thought is still kind of cool to me. It’s even cooler that I sort of know who he is.

  “It’s like my defining characteristic.” He runs a hand through his hair. I almost think he’s irritated, but he looks more resigned than irritated. “I mean, he’s a good dad, and we all get along, but sometimes I think we get along because we have to. Does that make sense?”

  “Yeah.” Mom and I have never been put in the position of keeping up appearances. I can’t imagine it.

  “Dad’s gone a lot, and he has this ego about what he does, which I guess is understandable. I’m glad I’ll be gone for re-election year. It’s a nightmare.” He chuckles.

  “I bet.” I can’t imagine how horrible it would be for someone like me—in large crowds trying to make nice with everyone.

  “It’s more my brothers. Cause I’m the youngest? Everyone expects me to be like them. Especially my dad. But I don’t want to be a doctor, or a lawyer or a politician… My brothers are competitive overachievers.” We’re sitting close, but he isn’t looking at me. We’re both still watching the movement of the water around us. I’m guessing Landon has a lot to say.

  “I’ve been glad many times that I don’t have siblings.” I like the quiet of just Mom and I. The idea of tiptoeing around people at home would really suck.

  “They’re cool, but they’re all at Ivy League schools and want me to do the same. I don’t think I’m ready for school yet. I have no idea what I want to do with myself, and it causes no end of issues between Dad and I.” He brings his knees up and rests his arms there. “Poor spoiled kid, right?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I don’t think that.” I’ve never had to let Mom down. I can’t imagine what it must feel like.

  “Thanks.” Our eyes meet for a second. “I think that’s why it’s easier for me to just do my thing. Party with my friends. There’s no way I can compete with my brothers.”

  “But how could you keep that up after—” Lacey. But I suck in the word, not wanting that to tarnish whatever this is. Not wanting her name mentioned between us, because that would mean I need to tell him what I saw. What I know. What I didn’t do and should have.

  “Lacey.” He nods. “I play that night in my head over and over.”

  “Landon,” I whisper. Please don’t talk about this. Please.

  “She was my first kiss. Hadn’t kissed me since.” He pushes out a harsh laugh, but the way he’s breathing, even and slow, makes me know he’s trying not to cry. “She was good for me, you know? A good friend. Probably the only person who knew me well enough for me to talk to. I teased her about getting together, but after so many years; she felt more like my sister or a cousin or something. It was good for me. She was.”

  I don’t want to know this. My guilt starts to spread through me, weakening me.

  I saw it.

  And did nothing.

  “She went to the party with me. That means I had the responsibility to bring her home. She drank way more than she normally did. I don’t know why because I never asked, but I didn’t think… She just passed out, you know? I found her and lifted her onto the couch so she’d have somewhere comfortable to sleep it off, but when I moved her, she didn’t move, at all. I almost dropped her. It’s like I could tell she wasn’t there anymore.” He blinks and his blond lashes are wet as tears stream down his face. He swipes the back of his hand across both cheeks as he sucks in a breath.

  “I called 911. Then I called my dad. He forbade me to go to the hospital with her. And like an asshole, I listened. He couldn’t have his son at a party where a girl died. Even if she was one of my best friends.”

  “I’m sorry.” I put my hand on his shoulder, and enjoy the picture of us kissing way more than I should for someone who could have at least tried to prevent him this hurt.

  I’m silent. Silent when I should open my mouth and tell him. Guilt begins to truly suffocate me.

  The small waves lap against the side of the boat, but the rest of the world is as quiet as we are. Time passes, and Landon slowly relaxes.

  “You know what I want to do more than anything?” he asks. The sadness has disappeared. Or been pushed away for now.

  “What?” Anything to change the subject. I just want to be this close for a little bit longer.

  “What I want to do is to spend a year or two sailing around the Caribbean, the Bahamas, British West Indies, Virgin Islands...” A smile breaks on the edges of his mouth and he turns toward me. “There’s years worth of exploring to do there. And I’d almost always rather be sailing than dealing with the noise of the engine.”

  It would be incredible. To be on the turquoise water and hot weather. “Sounds awesome, but expensive.” I can’t even imagine where you’d get money for a boat from or how you’d keep food. There has to be costs involved in everything. No one can live for free.

  He shrugs. It’s apparently not a problem.

  “What’s that?” I want to know. His shrug meant something.

  He hangs his head in something that looks like resignation, but that pressed together smile makes me know he’s okay with sharing.

  “What?”

  “I get a bit of money when I turn eighteen, like in a few weeks.”

  “Of course you do.” I look up at the huge house on the hill overlooking the ocean. Landon would be lucky enough for something like that. He probably doesn’t have to worry about paying for college at all. Then I realize I just screwed up with that comment. It wasn’t a fair one to make.

  “Don’t do that.” His eyes look into me. “Treat me like everyone else does. I didn’t ask for it. It’s from my granddad. I’d do the sailing thing without it.”

  “I’m sorry.” I realize that it’s not just me who thinks of Landon as living a charmed life. Everyone assumes that things go well for him because of who he is, not what he does. “You’re a good guy. You deserve it.”

  He laughs as he rubs his hands down his thighs. “I’m trying.”

  I wonder what he means by that.

  “Come on.” He takes my hand in his, our kiss floods my thoughts. “Ready to go?”

  “I guess.”

  “Thanks for coming.” He leads me carefully off the boat.

  “It was…an experience.”

  “A good one?” His Landon smile is back
. The one that’s part goofy kid, and part excitement, and maybe, yeah, part hot guy.

  “Definitely.” And if it weren’t for this load of fear I carry about Lacey, and the simple fear that I won’t be good enough, or that he doesn’t want me in the same way, it would have been pretty perfect.

  His hand squeezes mine as we start up the hill, and when our eyes meet, his cheeks turn pink this time. I’m thrilled and flattered, and amazed that we’re here. I also can’t help but wonder how long it’ll last.

  FIFTEEN

  After two days of lounging around and spending time with Landon, the jolt of getting ready for school feels especially horrible. Also, I haven’t heard from Dad, which means I’m worried about Carol. Mom’s either with Ethan, or on the phone with Ethan. It’s just so…weird.

  I roll out of bed and slide into jeans and a tank top as I stumble into the bathroom. Nothing will be able to be done with my hair. It’s a mess of curls and frizz. I grab the front and twist it into a thick braid, letting the rest hang long. I spray a little water over it, letting my hair soak up the moisture, the curls even out into their tiny kinks. It seems like a good day to leave it down. Maybe not so bad. I rub my cheeks a few times trying to wake myself up and step out of the bathroom.

  “Good morning,” Landon says from my living room.

  “Uh…morning.” I stand at the end of the hallway, confused. Already reeling from him being a few steps away from me. Are all girls this pathetic around guys they like?

  “See you, Micah.” Mom winks and waves as she walks out.

  Wait. She’s my ride. I start for the door.

  “Would you ride with me?” Landon asks.

  I hear Mom pull out of our driveway.

  “It looks like I don’t have a choice.” Nervous energy is building up in my chest, and I take a deep breath in a pathetic attempt to relax.

  “I’m sorry this’ll be so torturous for you,” he teases.

  “It’s not. I’m just…surprised.” I realize that my reaction was probably taken the wrong way.