Shadowlands

by Kate Brian

  Just then, Joaquin appeared at the end of the walk. I hadn’t even noticed him turn onto the street. “Everything okay?” he asked, leaning one hand casually on the fence post.

  I pushed myself to my feet, still annoyed by the way he’d treated me at the boardinghouse and laughed me off earlier. “I was just leaving.”

  “What did I do?” Joaquin asked, raising his hands as I shoved the gate wider to get by him.

  “Like you don’t know,” I shot back.

  “Rory, wait,” he said, taking my wrist, but much gentler this time. He glanced meaningfully up at Tristan, but I had no idea what he was trying to communicate. “We need to tell you something.”

  “I just told her, man,” Tristan said, rising and pushing his hands into his pockets.

  Joaquin blinked, annoyance flashing across his face. “You did?”

  “Yeah. About Olive’s drug problem,” Tristan replied, his tone pointed.

  Joaquin dropped my wrist and crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  Tristan jogged down the steps and crossed the walk in two long strides. “Yes, it is.”

  “No. It’s not,” Joaquin said with a sardonic laugh.

  My pulse raced with curiosity. For a second, they just stared each other down. Joaquin’s nostrils flared. Tristan’s breath grew quick.

  “Would one of you just tell me what the hell is going on?” I demanded.

  “We need to talk,” Tristan told Joaquin through clenched teeth. “In private.”

  He turned and walked back toward the house. After a long moment’s hesitation, Joaquin followed. They stood under the shade of an orange tree, their heads bent close together as they argued in low tones. I tried my best to hear, but the buzzing of the lawn mower was now annoyingly close and I could make out only a few words.

  “But she saw me at the station with—”

  “Doesn’t matter! She’s not—”

  “And then Krista was in the middle of—”

  “I’m telling you, I tried and she can’t—”

  “Fine!” Joaquin blurted suddenly. “Whatever you say, golden boy.”

  He turned and stormed toward me, his face contorted with anger, but he paused on the sidewalk and seemed to make a decision. He put both hands on my shoulders and leaned in close to my ear. I was so startled I almost recoiled, but his grip held me firmly in place.

  “Rory, if you want to know anything…if you have any questions at all…you come see me, okay?” He leaned back to look me in the eye, and for the first time the superior glint was gone. He was all sincerity. My heart thumped in surprise. “Anything at all,” he said. “Got it?”

  I nodded slowly, baffled and intrigued. “Got it.”

  He released me and shot Tristan a sort of defiant, triumphant glare before slipping by and speed-walking up the street. I turned to ask Tristan what that was all about, but he was already gone. All I saw was the door of the gray house closing me out with a resounding thud.

  “He probably forgot he said he was going to pick me up,” Darcy theorized later that night, pulling the long sleeves of her white cardigan sweater over her hands as we walked up the steep path toward the bluff where we’d watch the fireworks. The sun was rapidly sinking in the west, and a cool breeze made us all shiver. “At one point we were talking about just meeting on the bluff. I bet he just got mixed up.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Aaron said. “He’s going to feel like a stupid git when you tell him.”

  Or he really is a stupid git. But I decided to keep my mouth shut. I wanted to have fun tonight, and that meant not fighting with Darcy. Aaron looked so adorable in a white-and-blue striped rugby shirt and tan shorts, his floppy brown hair tossed by the wind. It made me wish Joaquin was gay so Aaron would have a shot and Darcy could move on.

  “Hey, thanks. You look pretty, too,” Aaron said suddenly, slinging his arm over my shoulders.

  I blushed. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

  “I never miss an admiring glance, especially when it’s focused on me,” he replied with a smile. “But I’m serious. The dress suits you. You should wear dresses more often.”

  I glanced down at the sundress I’d borrowed from Darcy, with its cap sleeves and a swishy skirt that tickled my thighs as we walked. I’d even ditched the braid, going with a low ponytail instead. The whole getup made me feel lighter somehow. More free.

  “Maybe I will,” I replied.

  As we got to the top of the bluff, and the crowd of fresh-faced, tanned locals and visitors came into view, I took a deep breath of the floral air and sighed.

  “Glad you came?” Aaron asked, giving me a squeeze.

  “Definitely.”

  We walked toward the gazebo at the center of the outcropping. Most people seemed to be gathered near its steps, and as we got closer I saw why. There was a big table offering trays of cupcakes, cookies, and fruit bars. A couple of standing coolers held lemonade and iced tea. Just beyond the gazebo, I saw Tristan’s house, sitting at the highest point on the island, the American flag out front whipping in the breeze. I saw myself standing there that day Olive and I had gone for a run together—saw me looking down at this very gazebo, feeling, if only briefly, that all was right in the world as I waited for her to catch up. I wondered where Olive was tonight, and I hoped that wherever she was, she was feeling that way now.

  “Why don’t you guys find a place to sit and I’ll get us some food?” Aaron suggested, handing me the plaid blanket he’d brought along.

  “Sounds good. Darcy?” I asked.

  She was standing on her toes, craning her neck, searching the crowd. I rolled my eyes and grabbed her hand.

  “Come on,” I said. “Let the guys come to you, remember?”

  She sighed, bringing her heels back to earth. “Did I say that?”

  We walked around the gazebo and saw that people had set up chairs and blankets facing the water. I unfolded our blanket, and Darcy helped me flatten it out on the grass. We settled in next to each other, and I leaned back on my hands.

  “Too bad Dad decided to write tonight,” I said with a sigh. “He used to love fireworks.”

  “I know, right? Running, writing, apologizing…it’s like the last five years never happened,” Darcy replied. She sat up on her knees, her butt leaned back on her feet, scanning the crowd.

  “Weird, right?” I said, warming to the topic. Darcy and I almost never talked seriously about anything. “Do you think he’ll—”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t just sit here,” Darcy interrupted. “I bet he’s looking for me.”

  I groaned. So much for that.

  “Then let him find you,” I suggested. “Didn’t Mom always say that if you ever get lost, the best way to be found is to stay in one place?”

  Darcy chewed on the inside of her cheek. “She did say that.” She took a deep breath, and for a second I thought she was going to relax, but instead she jumped to her feet. The sky overhead had darkened to a deep purple, and people were starting to move from the gazebo, closing in around us. “I’ll just do a quick loop of the crowd.”

  “Darcy,” I said, pushing myself up. “Look at yourself. This isn’t you. Why are you going out of your way for someone who’s clearly blowing you off?”

  Her green eyes flashed. “I can’t believe you just said that to me,” she said, crossing her arms over her stomach.

  I tried to think of some way to take it back, but it was too late now. And besides, I was right and she needed to hear what I thought.

  “I’m sorry, but I think Joaquin is a total player, and I just don’t want you to get hurt,” I told her.

  “If you care so much about me not getting hurt, then maybe you should stop flirting with him in front of everyone,” she spat out.

  “What?” I said, my face screwing up in confusion.

  “Oh, please! Drop the innocent act already, Rory!” she cried, throwing her arms up and letting them drop down at her sides. I s
aw a couple of passersby whisper about us but couldn’t have cared less. “First I see you guys hugging, then this morning he’s whispering in your ear in front of the house? You like him, Rory! Admit it!”

  “What do you do, spend all your time in your window seat spying on me?” I shot back. “And for your information, I didn’t ask him to do either of those things!”

  “Oh, no? Well, what about Christopher? Did you ask him to break up with me, or was that all him, too?”

  A single firework popped overhead, a bright, white, earthshaking blast to announce the start of the show. Everyone around us cheered and clapped. Darcy and I simply stood there, facing off.

  She knew about Christopher. She knew. I felt like the bluff was slowly crumbling beneath my feet.

  “How…how did you…how long have you known?” I stammered.

  “Oh, only since the day I overheard him begging you to go to the winter formal with him,” she shot back, leaning forward at the waist.

  Another firework exploded, followed by a series of merry crackles. I shook my head, completely thrown. Christopher and I had that conversation at our house right after school. Darcy was at cheerleading practice, like she was every day. Or she was supposed to be.

  “You were there?” I asked meekly.

  “I told Coach Haskins I wasn’t feeling well and went home. I’d been having a lot of trouble sleeping, in case you don’t remember,” she said bitterly.

  She’d been having trouble sleeping because she’d been crying practically nonstop for the forty-eight hours since Christopher had broken up with her. I still remembered lying in bed, counting the star stickers I’d stuck to my ceiling in fourth grade, clutching my blanket to my chest as I listened to her sob.

  “But if…if you were there, then you know that I turned him down,” I stammered. “You…you know I told him I couldn’t do that to you.”

  Darcy let out a strained laugh as everyone started oohing and aahing over a loud series of fireworks.

  “Oh, yeah, I heard. And thanks so much for your pity,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks, cutting lines through her carefully applied makeup. “That’s just what every girl wants. To hear the love of her life begging her younger, dorkier sister to be with him and hear her say no to spare her feelings. Thanks so much, Rory. And I believe all this happened after you spent an entire afternoon making out with him? I definitely remember him saying something about that.”

  A huge, wet ball was choking off my air supply. “You guys were…you were already broken up.”

  “Oh, we were already broken up!” She threw her hands up. “Wow! Thanks so much for giving our two-year relationship eight hours to grow cold.”

  I brought my hands to my forehead for a second, trying to catch my breath, trying to organize my thoughts. When I looked up at her again, there were tears in my eyes. “Darcy—”

  “No. You’re not allowed to look at me that way. I’m going to go find Joaquin, and if you don’t like it, or if you don’t like him, then good,” she said. “At least that means you won’t try to steal him, too.”

  Then she turned on her heel and cut through the crowd, practically shoving Aaron and his carefully balanced plate of treats out of her way.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, dipping down to place the food on our blanket. “Where’s Darcy going?” He tilted his head in concern as he got a close look at my face. “Rory, why are you crying?”

  “I have to go after her,” I said.

  “Now?” He gestured up as the sky turned blue, then purple, and then bright gold.

  “I know, but…it’s too much to explain. I just have to talk to her,” I said. “Will you help me?”

  “Of course,” he said. “Follow me.”

  He took my hand and wedged through a small opening in the crowd. My back grazed a denim jacket, and I tripped over the metal leg of a lawn chair as I clung to his fingers. The sky seemed to darken by the second as more people pressed in and the fireworks popped, turning the unfamiliar faces around me blue, then purple, then red.

  “Do you see her?” I asked Aaron.

  “Not yet!” he shouted to be heard over the show. “Was she looking for Joaquin? Maybe we should find him, and then we’ll find her.”

  I turned to walk backward, letting him carve a path for me. The redheaded boy from the party at Tristan’s hung out near the gazebo, chatting up a girl with thick glasses. The blond boy from the general store stood with his back against the gazebo’s lattice, still solo, as he watched the sky. A shower of white sparks illuminated the world, and I saw Bea, Lauren, Fisher, and Kevin leaning into the gazebo’s railing a few steps up. My heart stopped. There were a hundred people in the crowd, yet every one of the four locals was watching me.

  I wrenched my hand out of Aaron’s and shoved my way over to the gazebo. “Have you seen Darcy?” I demanded.

  “Who?” Fisher asked.

  “My sister! Darcy!” I shouted. They all stared at me blankly. I felt like hurling something at them. Something seriously, heavy. “Forget it. Where’s Joaquin?”

  “Dunno,” Kevin replied. He shrugged, then turned his back on me and the fireworks, leaning his butt into the railing. “Haven’t seen him.”

  “Well, if you see him, can you—”

  Someone jostled me from behind, and I whirled around, hoping it was Darcy. Instead, I caught a glimpse of a tan corduroy jacket just before it was swallowed up by the crowd.

  My blood turned cold in my veins.

  “No,” I said under my breath.

  It was him. He was here.

  I darted after the jacket. The crowd was thick and pressed in around me. A pigtailed girl glared at me as I stepped on her toes, and a beefy guy in a sweatshirt cursed as I elbowed him in the ribs to get through. The sky flashed pink. I whirled around, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of tan corduroy. A gap emerged in the crowd, and there it was, dead ahead. That ugly, puke color. That awful, wide wale. I swallowed hard as the man wearing it turned his head, and I saw his silhouette in profile.

  He had on glasses. Wire-rimmed glasses.

  He turned away from me, and his pace quickened.

  “Steven Nell!” I shouted at the top of my lungs.

  He froze. And then he really started to move.

  Heart in my throat, I kept elbowing through the crowd and chased after Nell. My sleeve caught on someone’s button and tore. I shoved a guy in a plaid shirt so hard he hit his knees in the dirt. My ankle caught on an outstretched leg, and I flew forward, only to catch myself on a skinny girl’s knee.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, hurtling over her.

  He was near the edge of the crowd now, heading back toward town. He was going to get away. But then a whole group of girls in miniskirts and tiny tops traipsed in front of him, arm in arm, gossiping and giggling and taking their sweet time, and he was forced to stop. He was feet away. Inches. I was closing in.

  “Where is she!?” I shouted, my hand coming down on his shoulder.

  He whirled around to face me, and I felt my heart explode. Angry red acne dotted his right cheek. A small scar cut the flesh over his lip. His wide forehead was dotted with sweat and his glasses didn’t have wire frames, but thick, blue ones.

  It wasn’t Steven Nell at all.

  “What?” the guy said, raising his meaty white palms. “What’d I do?”

  I felt my stomach turn, and it was all I could do not to boot it all over his white Nikes.

  “I’m sorry. I…I thought you were someone else,” I told him.

  “Whatever,” he said, shaking his head.

  Then he sniffed, muttered “Crazy person” under his breath, and headed back toward town. I pushed my hands into my hair and forced myself to breathe. Maybe I was crazy. Maybe Darcy was fine. She was probably off with Joaquin right now, kissing the night away. Maybe I should chill the hell out.

  I turned back toward the crowd, intent on finding Aaron and getting on with my night. There was a brief moment of silence between firework
explosions, and then I heard a scream. Darcy’s scream. Her scream as the truck slammed into our car. As he bashed her head in. Her hair tangled over her face, her pale fingers splayed out on the dirt. Her wrist still warm but without a pulse.

  Another firework popped, and my heart slammed inside my rib cage.

  “Darcy!” I yelled toward the pack of people in front of me. “Darcy! Where are you? Answer me!”

  A few people near the back edge of the crowd shot me annoyed looks. Slowly, I turned in a circle, trying to stifle the sound of my breath, the pounding of my pulse in my ears, hoping to hear a shout or another scream, something that would pinpoint her location for me. Everything flashed by quickly. Trees, lights, gazebo, ocean, fireworks, crowd, rocks, rooftops. Trees, lights, gazebo, ocean, fireworks, crowd, rocks, rooftops. Over and over and over again, the sights whirled, but there was no Darcy. I stopped turning and pressed my hands to my eyes, waiting for the world to stop spinning. Waiting for some sound, some clue. But there was nothing. Nothing but the earthshaking explosions overhead, the delighted cries of the spectators.

  When I finally opened my eyes, I focused right in on a streak of white in the dirt a few feet in front of me. My pulse skipped a thousand beats. I raced over and stopped dead. It was Darcy’s cardigan. It lay flat in the dirt next to a garbage can, a man’s muddy boot print pressed into its otherwise pristine fabric. My vision blurred.

  “Darcy?” I whimpered. “Darcy?”

  My hands trembled as I bent to pick it up. Another firework exploded, showering the town of Juniper Landing in red sparks.

  “Darcy!” I screamed as loud as I could. “Darcy, where are you!?”

  Suddenly, the lights of the town dulled, then were extinguished altogether. I took a staggered step back as the air around me began to move, began to creep in toward me. Within seconds, the fog had whipped around my ankles and swirled up to my knees. I heard the crowd behind me groan as the thick, gray mist formed a seal between us and the sky, blanking out the fireworks.