“Be right back.” Raven hopped out and slammed the door behind her. Devon finally opened her eyes and saw the ranch house at Reed Hutchins’s vineyard Raven had taken her to before. But this time, a rusted black Rover was parked in the circular driveway in front of the Volvo. Devon recognized it instantly: The car Hutch had been unpacking the last day she had seen him.
Raven disappeared inside the house.
Without thinking, Devon got out of the car and approached the Rover. The front window was open and the door was unlocked. Devon opened it and sat in the driver seat. She ran her hand across the cracked leather steering wheel. Hutch had driven this car to school. Somehow it had gotten back to his grandfather’s house. She’d ask Raven about that part. The floor and seats of the car had leftover dirt and twigs and grape stains. It smelled like a mix of dried dirt and men’s aftershave. In the cup holder next to her, Devon found a crumpled up piece of paper—white, not Keaton green.
“Ready?” Raven called from the front door. “Great car, huh?”
Devon quickly pocketed the piece of paper. “Yeah, really cool. How old is it?”
Devon casually ran her hand across the dashboard, around the wheel, like she was interested in taking it for a test drive. Maybe Raven would take the bait.
“Who knows? It’s Grandpa Reed’s. Kind of the junk car for all the heavy lifting and hauling around here.” Raven got back in the Volvo and Devon followed, even though she would have preferred to sit in the Rover all day. That aftershave, though … maybe Grandpa Reed wore it? It smelled almost old fashioned, musky, too overt for Hutch.
Raven started the Volvo and Devon held onto her speaker again as the car bounced back down the hill. “Feel like surfing?”
Devon shook her head as the beach swam into view through the trees. The waves boomed. Seagulls coasted on the wind above, not flapping, surveying the water below.
“You sure?” Raven asked, turning into the parking lot. “I’ve got an extra board.”
“No thanks.”
Raven pulled her surfboard off the roof rack and shimmied into her wetsuit in the parking lot. Waves crashed like thunder. The gulls squawked and squealed.
Devon pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her head as she eyed the rocky beach for a place to sit. She grabbed her backpack and a towel from the sandy backseat.
“Oh, can you grab my board wax? I think it’s on the floor back there.” Raven used the long string hanging from her wetsuit to zip the suit up her back. She tied her hair into a tight knot.
Devon reached back into the car. She dug past a damp towel covering the seat, protein bar wrappers, aged sunscreen tubes, a few loose homework assignments, some pamphlets. One of them caught Devon’s eye. Pregnant? You Have Options.
Devon froze. Did this mean that Raven was the one Hutch stole the pregnancy test for? Had her brother gotten Hutch off the hook for shoplifting because Hutch was stealing for his sister? Devon’s mind raced with questions. She had to ask Raven about this, but how?
“Found it?” Raven called from the outside.
Devon looked below the pamphlet and found a round hockey puck-sized mound of wax. Sex Wax, the label read. Sex Wax under the pregnancy pamphlet. Jesus. If that wasn’t irony, Devon didn’t know what was.
“Got it,” she called back. She tossed the puck to Raven over the top of the car.
“Thanks.” Raven started scraping the wax against her board. “Oh dude, I forgot to ask. What’s up with you and that lacrosse guy?”
“Grant.” Devon couldn’t make eye contact with Raven. Not now.
“Yeah, Grant. I wouldn’t have called that one. He doesn’t strike me as your type. But you never know about people, huh?” Raven tossed back the wax. “See ya in a bit.”
She strapped the surfboard leash to her ankle and ran down to the beach, over the rocks, and skidded into the surf like a rock skipping over water.
“Yeah, you never know,” Devon said as she watched Raven duck under a wave.
DEVON DUG A TALE of Two Cities out of her backpack, but there was no way she was going to get any reading done today. Instead she stuck her bare feet into the warm sand and watched the surfers out on the water. They sat in a cluster behind the breaking waves, straddling their boards and bobbing along with the tide. In their full-body black wetsuits, they looked like a family of ducks out for a swim. Devon couldn’t tell anyone apart, except for Raven’s signature nest of hair atop her head. Devon watched as Raven paddled next to a blond dreaded surfer. Bodhi, no doubt.
So. Raven knew about Devon and Grant. Was it public knowledge? Were they officially a couple now? She was going to have to remember to make peace with Grant if this “official” label was going to stick. That is, if she wanted it to stick. Why didn’t Raven think he was her type? She hadn’t exactly had enough boyfriends to identify a type at this point.
Off to the side of the group of surfers a figure bobbed alone. He ducked under a wave and when he came up he shook his head, sending water flying from his blond shaggy hair. Was that Matt? Devon smiled. It was another chance to see a side of Matt most people didn’t get to see at Keaton. He spent so much time surfing and now she got to see him in his element. She envied him his surfing. To have something that he craved every day, something that he loved that much. Although he would probably never admit it, Matt must get that buzz that surfers talk about. The idea of battling roaring waves on a piece of foam; the chance to be a part of the water, to bring everything you are and throw it into the ocean, and to come out cleansed by it.… Before her days at Keaton were over, Devon promised herself she’d at least give surfing a try.
A wave approached the group and Devon watched Raven pop up on her board and weave expertly up and down the wave, while other surfers paddled out of her way. Before she got too close to the rocks near the shore, Raven dropped down to her board and paddled back out for another wave. She was graceful, and she clearly had the respect of the other locals. Having an older brother at the center of the surfing community didn’t hurt either.
The pamphlet in her car, though. Devon wished she had grabbed it. She wasn’t jumping to conclusions, was she? Okay, what do you actually know? She had to get her thoughts straight before talking to Raven. Hutch definitely stole a pregnancy test for someone. And she knew that someone was not Isla. She also knew that Raven bonded over peanut butter products with Hutch over the summer—while he was broken up with Isla, so the opportunity for them to hook up was definitely there. She cried more often than not at the mention of Hutch’s name.
Was this a bunch of coincidences, or was this a time where her mother would say, “There are no coincidences?” If Raven was pregnant with Hutch’s baby, would that be enough to drive Hutch to suicide? And, if Devon’s theory was correct, what if it wasn’t suicide? Was it enough to make someone want to kill Hutch? Like a protective older brother, perhaps? Could Bodhi have killed Hutch because he got Raven pregnant?
Okay, so maybe there was a lot of speculation here.
Devon resolved to talk with Raven on the ride back to school. She would be the comforting-older-sister type Raven probably wished she had right about now. And she could ask about Bodhi. Did Bodhi really have murder in him? Something about surfers, so attuned to the tides and harnessing the ocean—no. But a pissed-off older brother could be capable of a lot. And Devon still didn’t know why Bodhi left MIT. Could he have been kicked out for violent tendencies? Now she was just making stuff up. Forget about all that; she’d start with confirming if Raven was pregnant with Hutch’s baby.
Another wave approached and Devon saw Bodhi and then Matt both turn and paddle for it. The wave swelled and Bodhi stood up. He aimed his board toward the wave break and drifted to the top lip of the arcing wave until Matt dropped in on Bodhi’s wave, cutting him off, and riding it the rest of the way. Bodhi yelled something at Matt and then quickly let the next wave push him to shore. Matt was walking through the rocky shallow water when Bodhi caught up to him. “Dude!” Bodhi barked at Matt.
/> Devon shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand. Bodhi didn’t sound happy.
Matt reached into the water and unhooked his foot from his leash. He nodded at Bodhi, oblivious. “What’s up, man?”
“Did you not see me there, ’cause you’d have to be freakin’ blind to miss what you just did.” Bodhi was carrying his board toward Matt now.
Deeper in the water, Raven caught a small wave to join Bodhi on shore. A few others followed her. Devon stood. This was bad.
“What are you talking about, dude?” Matt kept walking out of the water with his board.
“Are you kidding me?” Bodhi ripped the Velcro off his ankle and dug his board straight down into the wet sand. “You know better than to take my wave. Or do I have to teach you again?”
Matt turned. “Hey, chill. I support you, remember?”
Bodhi laughed, incredulous. “You support me? That’s hilarious. I told him it was a mistake to go into business with you. And from what I hear, he should have listened to me.”
“What are you saying?” Matt didn’t back off.
Devon noticed that both of them were puffing their chests out, and she could see a red patch growing up the back of Matt’s neck spreading to his ears. She crept toward them, careful to not draw attention to herself.
“I’m saying that if you can’t respect me out there, then I know you’re not respecting me up there.” Bodhi pointed to the looming mountains behind them. “We’re done.”
Matt pushed at Bodhi’s chest. “That’s not your call, local.”
Another surfer—shaved head, lots of tattoos—leapt out of the water next to Raven. They both quickly unhooked from their boards, and dropped them on the sand.
“You don’t want to do this, man,” Bodhi said. Now he had backup, but that didn’t seem to faze Matt.
“Oh no, I do. I really do.” Matt unzipped his wetsuit.
Shaved Head moved in front of Bodhi. “You’re lucky we let you surf here this long. Tourist.” Before Devon could process what was happening, the guy took a swing and connected with the side of Matt’s jaw.
Matt stumbled back momentarily, but came back quickly with a hard punch to Shaved Head’s ribcage. Bodhi’s right hand jabbed at Matt and caught him in the eye. Matt reeled back and then prepared to lunge at Bodhi until Raven appeared between them.
“Stop it!” she shrieked. “Seriously, stop. It’s not worth it. This is stupid.” More surfers stood behind Bodhi now. Devon could see their muscles bulging underneath their wetsuits, and they eyed Matt like a dog waiting for a treat. Devon realized she was holding her breath, digging her nails into her palms. Just one word from Bodhi and they’d spring into action.
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking this is over,” Matt said with a hand over his eye.
He turned and took off across the beach with his board, through the parking lot. Devon watched him go. Had he seen her there? She wanted to run after him, help him get back to school, get some ice, but he was already out on the road. This crowd was entirely Monte Vista locals, and Devon was nervous about outing herself as a Keaton student.
She looked down and realized she was wearing a sweatshirt with KEATON blazed across the front in huge letters. Too late for that.
The surfers gave Bodhi pats on the back or quick nods before getting back in the water. Bodhi flashed Devon a slight smile, which she took as a sign that it was okay to join their group. Raven was focused on Shaved Head, who had a hand clamped around his rib cage and his eyes squinted in pain. As she stepped closer Devon could hear Raven talking in a small, sweet voice.
“It’s going to be okay, baby. I’ll take care of you.” Raven said to Shaved Head.
She kissed him on the lips and wrapped her arms around him. He wrapped a hand around her waist and pulled her closer, nuzzling her neck.
Time stood still on the hot beach as Devon watched them. So, she thought, that’s what an official couple looks like. Almost like Hutch and Isla had once looked, but even more tender and intimate. Maybe Devon was wrong about everything. Maybe Hutch wasn’t Raven’s type.
* “Egan’s Skilled Helper Model: Second stage: Help the subject identify what they want. Which options are open to the helpee?”—Peer Counseling Pilot Program Training Guide by Henry Robins, MFT
† “The Peer Counselor should help the subject shift away from socializing after the first few minutes of the session to focus on the subject’s emotional needs. A subject that continues to socialize is avoiding the real issues.” —Peer Counseling Pilot Program Training Guide by Henry Robins, MFT
‡ “Using terms like ‘we’ and ‘our’, help the subject tackle issues that may be daunting to address alone.” —Peer Counseling Pilot Program Training Guide by Henry Robins, MFT
CHAPTER 9
Name: Devon Mackintosh
Session Date: Sept. 24
Session #2
Mr. Robins was already writing notes in his notebook when Devon sat down.
“Devon, right on time. Have a seat,” he nodded in the direction of the chair across from his desk. Devon sat down and pulled out her own notebook. Her Mont Blanc pen wasn’t in the pocket she left it in. Damn, Cleo strikes again! This game was getting old. Devon reminded herself to get her pen back during Cleo’s next session. “So? How’s it going this week?” He scrunched his nose, pushing his glasses further up.
“Good, I think. I mean, I guess it’s normal counseling stuff, two steps forward, one step back.” She smiled politely and sat up straighter. The more committed and serious she could seem the less he would question her, was the hope.
“Glad to hear it. But, I’ve got to admit, I have some concerns with the work we’re doing.” He folded his hands and leaned on his desk. Uh-oh. “It’s Matt Dolgens. Apparently he’s been skipping a lot of classes the last week or so. I’m thinking I should take over working with him. He might be a little more than you’re ready for.”
Devon arranged a smile on her face, but it felt plastic and crooked. “That’s an interesting idea.” If Matt suddenly had to stop seeing Devon and start seeing an actual faculty member, she’d come off like the enemy he’d been trying to make her out to be. “But, isn’t missing a few classes here and there somewhat expected given what he’s been going through? Hutch was his best friend.”
“We’ve been told that Matt has been seen talking with Bodhi Elliot in Monte Vista lately. I’m not sure if you know him, but Bodhi is an alum with a troubled past. The concern is that if Matt gets in with the wrong element, his behavior could take a turn for the worse. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how vulnerable he is right now.”
Images of Matt and Bodhi—smoking a joint behind the pharmacy, fighting on the beach—flashed through Devon’s mind. Exactly which one of them was the wrong element was difficult to discern. She kept her head down, studying her fingernails. Next question. Next question.
“I take it from your silence you know something about this,” Mr. Robins said, leaning back in chair. Devon wanted to tell him to lose the smug grin; he didn’t know a fraction of what he thought he did.
“I’ve met Raven, Bodhi’s sister. As far as I can tell, she’s a smart girl and excited to be at Keaton. I’ve never met Bodhi, so I can’t really say much about him.”
“I’m not at liberty to go into details, but Bodhi didn’t leave Keaton with the best reputation, and we weren’t exactly happy to see him back in Monte Vista.”
“But that doesn’t mean anything about Matt. Maybe they just surf together or something?”
Mr. Robins took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Devon, we’ve got to watch out for peer sympathy getting in the way of you making informed decisions. That’s an inherit blind spot with this program.”
“But I’m not.…” Devon stopped herself. Getting too defensive right now would only confirm Mr. Robins’ theory. “I understand the concern. It’s just that I feel like Matt is finally starting to trust me, and to open up, and to make some progress in working through his grief. I�
�d really hate to cut that off now. You mentioned in your training how important it was so establish a good rapport with your subject. Can I try one more session with Matt? See if I can help with this attendance thing?”
Mr. Robins glanced at his watch. He pulled a handful of pages from the back of his notebook. “Fine. But if we see any other red flag behavior from him, I’ll be meeting with Matt personally.”
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Now, if we could take a minute to review your notes.” He stole a glance at the clock on the wall behind Devon. What’s he waiting for? “Everything looks good. You say Matt presented with anger and disbelief about Jason’s suicide, all perfectly normal.” He flipped to the next page. “Isla with feelings of guilt, and Cleo ashamed of her behavior in Monte Vista. Everything sounds good.” He scrunched his glasses up his nose again. “On paper.”
She swallowed, her heart picking up a beat. “Great. Glad you think so.”
“But there’s more than what you’re telling me, isn’t there?”
“What?” Play dumb. Play dumb. Devon tried to force herself not to blush. He knows you’re lying.
“Matt’s absences indicate that he’s going through more than anger and disbelief. And I think you know what it is.” He let the words hang in the air while Devon’s insides squirmed.
“Really, I’m not sure—”
“Devon, if you and Matt are dating, I need to know about that,” he interrupted. “I realize counseling can often bring people closer together, so if you two have.…” He waited for her to fill in the rest. Ha! Devon: 1; Mr. Robins: 0! He has no idea.
“Mr. Robins, that’s not what’s happening. Matt and I, we really don’t see each other outside of our sessions.”
There was a knock on the door. Headmaster Wyler walked into the room without waiting for an answer. “This still a good time?” he asked.
Mr. Robins pulled a chair for the Headmaster. “Yes, glad you could make it.”
What is he doing here? In his ever-present khakis and sweater vest and perfectly cropped salt-and-pepper hair, Devon wondered if Wyler looked the same as a Keaton student years ago. She pictured a seventeen-year-old version: soccer legend, bio whiz, and sweater vest collector. And now living back at the school he attended three decades ago. I’ll bet the outside world wasn’t all that kind to the Sweater Vest King.
Keaton School 01: Escape Theory Page 15