“We know,” the pastor says, “but—”
“But it’s time we start moving on,” Mom finishes.
My heart stops then kick-starts again, punching against my rib cage. Each beat tears into me. “Move on?” My voice is barely a whisper.
“Sweetie,” Mom starts.
Heat rises in my neck. I jump off the couch. “Move on?” I scream. “How are we supposed to move on? She’s dead, Mom. Dead. What? Should we just wipe memories of her away, too? Pretend she never existed?” I’m panting for breath.
Mom turns her face into Dad’s chest, her sobs sounding more like howls. Her whole body quakes. The heat drains back from my face, and an icy chill settles in its place.
“Anna,” Dad says. His voice is calm, cold. “Please, go to your room.”
I want to argue, apologize, yell. I don’t know what I want, but I know I can’t fix what I just said. I lift myself from the couch and walk stiffly to the stairs. As I climb toward my bedroom, I can hear Pastor Willitz’s voice behind me, trying to calm my hysterical mother.
I throw myself onto my bed and grab Storm’s book. Flipping through the pages, seeing the familiar words, the letters and shapes that have become so much a part of my life since last night, dread settles over me. How could I have been so naïve? I can’t do this, will never be able to complete the list. I look at #9: Road Trip! I don’t have a car, and I can’t drive Storm’s old Monte Carlo, if it will even still be there when I go back downstairs. There is no way Mom and Dad will let me take a road trip. They don’t even trust me to drive to and from school.
#11: Go to a dive-in movie. The ticket is pasted there, mocking me. Carolina Beach, North Carolina. It may as well be on Jupiter—my chances of getting there would be about the same. I’ve never heard of a dive-in movie before. I could probably find one closer, not have to drive all the way to the coast. But it wouldn’t be the same. I know that it isn’t just a dive-in movie, but this particular one. Why else would the ticket be there?
#13: Sleep in the UNCW dorms. There’s no way.
#3: Get a tattoo.
#4: Go inside a lighthouse.
How did I not see this last night? So many of these things I won’t be able to do. Not in Muscatine, not without my parents letting me go.
I hear the front door shut, followed by soft footsteps on the stairs. A knock on my bedroom door. I brace myself for the fight—now that Pastor Willitz is gone, the parentals are free to tell me exactly how much trouble I’m in.
“Come in,” I call. I try to make myself look apologetic.
The door creaks open and a head peeks in. I jump off the bed. “Cameron! I thought you were my mom.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“I’m surprised they let you in.”
He looks at me, confusion painted clearly on his face. “They aren’t home. But why wouldn’t they let me in?”
I stare at the door in disbelief. They just left? I’d been ready for a lecture, yelling, fighting, sure that as soon as Pastor Willitz left, the parentals would be in my room to discuss what happened. But for them to just leave? I have no idea what that means and it scares me more than any punishment they would’ve given.
“No reason,” I lie. “What’s up?” I try to sound casual, but my voice betrays my nerves.
He has a goofy, crooked smile plastered on his face and a shiny, wrapped box in his hands. He presents it to me with a flourish.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Open and find out.”
I slide my finger under the tape and pry the paper open, taking care not to rip it only because I know it drives Cameron crazy that I’m taking so long. The box beneath the paper is plain brown, giving no indication of its contents. I pop the lid off.
Inside, lined up neatly, are three plastic-wrapped packages. Pulling one out, I say, “What’s this?”
“Number two. Take pictures of everything. If we’re going to do it, we gotta do it her way.”
Polaroid film. Of course. My mind fills with all the pictures on Storm’s bedroom wall.
“Cam,” I say. I can’t explain it, not really, so I just tell him flat out, “We can’t do the list.”
“What? Why?”
Tossing the notebook at him, I say, “Look at it. Get a tattoo? I’m only seventeen. How many tattoo artists in town do you think will work on me? And half those things I can’t even do in Muscatine.”
“And?”
“And… my parents won’t even let me drive around town. You really think they’ll let me drive a thousand miles to the coast?”
“Probably not.” He crosses the room and sits next to me, almost too close. “So?”
“So what?”
“Just so.” He gives the book back. “Maybe you don’t get the whole list done. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t start, right?”
“I don’t know,” I murmur.
“Right?” he asks again, his voice leading.
“I guess so.”
He hops off the bed, the enthusiasm he arrived with back again. “Good. Now that’s settled, put on your swimsuit. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
He’s gone before I can say, “Wait.” I stare blankly at the closed door a minute then shrug to myself. I strip out of my lifeguard suit—apparently Cameron’s observation skills are lacking—and pull out a bright bikini from my bottom drawer. Slipping on a sundress and some flip-flops, I grab the film and dash for the stairs. I’m three steps down when I turn back.
I have to find the camera, and for a second, I panic at the thought that it was in my car when it hit the tree. But then I see it, nestled into the bookshelf like a decoration. I grab it, throw it into my purse, and run down the stairs to where Cameron is waiting.
Chapter 10
We’ve been driving for twenty minutes now, and I’m recognizing less of my surroundings every minute. I’ve asked Cameron at least a half dozen times where we are going, but he’s determined to surprise me. I play with the hem of my dress, curling the crocheted edge up between my fingers then pressing it flat against my legs. Curl and press, curl and press.
As soon as we left the house, I could tell we weren’t headed to the community pool. Not that I thought Cameron was dorky enough to surprise me by taking me to hang out at my workplace, but he did have me wear a bathing suit. His dad belongs to the Muscatine Country Club—something he swears is only out of necessity because he has to schmooze clients on the golf course, but that we all know he secretly loves. But, ten minutes after leaving home, Cameron drove the truck past the entrance to the country club pool without even glancing at it. As far as I know, there is nothing resembling a pool this far out of town.
“You know,” I say, turning in my seat to face him. I prop a knee sideways on the bench seat between us. “This could probably be considered kidnapping. I hope you’ve got a good lawyer.”
“I think I can handle myself,” he says with a laugh. Cameron’s dad is one of the most well-known lawyers in Muscatine, and since he was in middle school, Cam’s been planning to follow in his footsteps. “Besides,” he continues, “I don’t seem to remember forcing you into the truck.”
“No, but I came under false pretenses and, um… extreme duress.”
He stares at me, a barely concealed smirk playing at his lips. With one hand, he readjusts his grip on the steering wheel, and with the other he pulls a water bottle from under the seat. He holds it out to me. “Pretenses and duress. Right. How does that work, now?”
“Well”—I take a deep drink of the water, and I can feel the cold of it sliding down my throat to my stomach—“first, I thought we were going to a swimming pool, not to the middle of nowhere.”
“Why would you think that?”
I gesture to my outfit. “Maybe because you said, ‘Put on your swimsuit.’”
“But I never said anything about a pool. You know what they say about assuming things.”
“Whatever. But, seriously, where are we going?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “You’ll see. Now, what else?”
“What do you mean ‘what else’?”
“I seem to remember you saying something about extreme duress. What’s that all about?”
I slump back into my seat, a sigh passing through my lips. “Mom and Dad told me they are thinking of selling Storm’s car, and I totally lost it. The things I said to Mom…” My stomach protests the memory.
“In pretty big trouble?”
“I thought I would be, but Dad just told me to go to my room, and then they were gone when we left, so I don’t know what’s going on. I thought for sure you were Mom coming to ground me for life when you knocked.”
He flicks on the blinker, just before slamming the brakes and shifting the truck into a lower gear. The turn to the right is so sharp that I slip across the seat toward Cameron until the seat belt locks me into place.
“Sorry about that. The road kinda snuck up on me there.”
I look around. We’ve only been off the highway for thirty seconds and already it’s like we are in a different world. Trees push in at us from both sides, creating a hazy darkness. I remove my sunglasses. The truck bumps and lurches farther into the woods.
“The road?” I say. “I’m not sure this actually is a road.”
“It used to be,” he says, “when people used it more. Steven used to take me out here all the time before he went off to college.”
“How is Steven?” I ask. I haven’t seen Cameron’s older brother since he was home for Christmas break, and then it was only in passing.
“Oh, crazy as ever. You know Steven. He’s about to start med school, so my parents are thrilled.”
“I bet.”
“Ah, here we are!” Cameron pulls the truck to an abrupt stop and cuts the engine.
“Cam?”
“What?”
I squint out the windshield. “There’s no here here.”
He’s already pushing open his door. “Can you just calm down and trust me? Get out.” With that, he slips out of the truck and slams his door shut. I watch him cross in front of the truck, opening my door when he reaches my side. I hop out.
“I wish I would’ve known you were taking me to the middle of the freaking forest. I would’ve at least considered tennis shoes. Or were you planning on killing me and dumping my body before my shoe choice makes much difference?”
“When did you become such a drama queen?” He reaches his hand toward me, but then stops, his arm hovering in the air awkwardly. Confusion crosses his features for a moment, quickly replaced by the casual ease he usually wears. His fingers grip mine and he tugs my arm. “Besides,” he says, “you shouldn’t lie. We both know you still would’ve worn flip-flops.”
I let him lead me through the trees, grateful for his grip on my hand when I slip on fallen leaves. Up ahead, I can make out the massive shapes of two giant boulders, the overgrown path we are on winding between them.
Cameron lets go of me just as we reach the boulders. “It’s pretty tight here,” he says then turns sideways and slips his slim frame between the rock faces. He’s halfway through the gap when I follow him.
My dress snags at the rocks, trying to trap me in the tiny passage, and I have to work it loose every few shuffles of my feet. At least it’s not one of my favorites; I’m pretty sure it’s not going to survive this adventure.
I can feel the sun hitting my shoulder and the side of my neck, giving the first indication that I’m almost out of this increasingly claustrophobic space. I move forward more quickly.
“Wait,” Cameron says, “let me…” His fingers brush down my arm, fumbling until he finds my hand again. “Okay, come on out, but stick close to the rock.”
“Why?” I take another step, and then the boulders are behind me. My stomach jumps into my throat, and my head spins violently. I press my back to a rock, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be back between the crush of the boulders. “Where are we?” My voice is hysterical.
Cameron turns to face me, trapping me between his body and the rock. He squeezes my hand and bends his head down so we are face-to-face. I clamp my eyes shut.
“Anna,” he says softly, “open your eyes.” I shake my head. “Come on, I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”
My eyes pry open, one at a time. I can’t see anything but Cameron’s face, his brown eyes staring unwavering into mine. My breath catches in my throat, and my hands tremble. “This isn’t funny,” I say.
“I’m going to back up a bit,” he says, but I grip his hand even tighter, refusing to let go. “It’s okay, Anna. Just keep your back against the wall. As long as you can feel the rock, you’re not close enough to fall, okay?”
I nod. At least, I think I nod, but I’m not sure my head moves at all. Blood rushes back into my fingertips after I force my hand to release his.
Cameron takes a step away from me, followed by another. He uses the toe of one foot to slip the shoe from the other, then repeats the process on the opposite side. His shirt comes off in one swift movement, and he drops it to the ground. He props the old Polaroid camera on one of his shoes, followed by his glasses.
“Number fifteen,” he says.
“Number… fifteen?…” My voice sounds far away.
“Be brave with your life. It’s not much, I know, but it’s a start.” And then he turns away from me and launches himself off the cliff.
I scream.
Chapter 11
I’m on the ground when Cameron makes it back up to me, my back pressed hard against the rock and my head between my knees. Air is escaping me, and I have to chase it down with each breath, forcing it through my nose to my lungs. Too fast. I know I’m breathing too fast, but it’s all I can do at this point not to panic.
Cameron stands over me, cold water dripping from his swim trunks and hair, splashing by my feet. “Hey,” he says, and I can feel him crouch down beside me. “It’s fine, see? Not a scratch on me.”
I don’t look, but talk to the ground. “You seriously thought this would be a good idea?”
“Well, yeah.”
“And you never considered that maybe you should—I don’t know—warn me first?”
He drops to sit next to me, wraps a wet arm around my shoulders, and gently pulls me upright. I glare at him. He takes his arm back then bumps his shoulder against mine. “Honestly?” he says. “I knew if I told you what we were going to do, you would never come.”
He’s right. There’s no way I would’ve voluntarily come here. “Yeah, because this is insane.”
“It’s fun.”
“It’s insane,” I say again. “Throwing yourself off cliffs is not fun.”
“How would you know?”
“Because—”
“Have you tried it?”
“I don’t have to try it. I have a brain. It’s not like you have to be a genius to know how dangerous and stupid and—”
“Be brave with your life, Anna. Be brave.”
The argument dies on my lips. I can see the words in my mind, scrawled at a diagonal across the pages, taking up the full spread. Written bigger than any other task on the list. Is it because it’s the most important, or because it’s the last?
“I don’t think I can,” I whisper.
“Yes, you can,” Cameron insists. “I’ll jump with you.”
“I’m not sure this is what she meant when she wrote that.”
He stretches his legs in front of him, long and lanky. “Well, what did she mean then?”
“I don’t know. To be brave. You know? Not just to do reckless things. To, I dunno, do things I wouldn’t otherwise. To take risks.”
“So, what part of that doesn’t cover this?”
I glance straight ahead of me. The cliff drops off fifteen feet from where I sit, and below it, I can just see a sliver of river winding by. Before now, I never really thought about what she meant by those five words. “Be brave with my life.” But it seemed somehow bigger than this. I te
ll Cameron so.
“I think you’re right,” he says. “But this is just a start. The first thing in a long line of your being brave. Maybe she didn’t mean you should face your fear of heights by jumping off a cliff. But isn’t that what bravery is?”
“I’m pretty sure nowhere in the definition of bravery does it say anything about cliff diving.”
He laughs, and when he snorts, I laugh with him. “No, not that. But, you know, being afraid of something and doing it anyway.”
I sigh. “You’ll jump with me?”
“I promise.”
“Fine,” I say, standing on shaky legs, “but you better watch yourself, Andrews. You still have your turn to be brave.”
Cameron has jumped three more times already. Each time he dives from the cliff, I make my way that much closer to the edge of the rocks. Now, I’m looking down at the water below, thankful that I didn’t eat before coming. My insides squirm as I watch Cameron pull himself out of the water and make his way back up the steep path toward me.
This is impossibly high. There is no way I can do this. Like, physically impossible—I’m pretty sure my legs won’t let me jump. They are working independent of my brain now, overriding my commands in their efforts to keep me safe. This must be what true fight-or-flight mode feels like—the body taking over in a desperate grasp at self-preservation.
“You ready?” Cameron asks as he hits the top of the trail. He rubs a hand back and forth over his short hair, flinging water in all directions.
“No.”
He stands next to me, close. Arm to arm, he wraps my hand in his. I shiver.
“You ready?” he asks again.
“Yes.” The word is out of my mouth before I can take it back. I’ll never be ready, ever, but I need to do this. I can do this.
“Should we count to four?” Cameron asks.
“Four?”
“Well, I figure three might not be enough time for you to get ready, but by the time we get to five, you’ll probably wuss out.”
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