Aftermath

by Sandy Goldsworthy

  Suddenly, I felt in control. It was like the Jet Ski moved on its own, centering and balancing over the water with me gripping the handles. My body lifted off the seat only by a few inches, but I felt like I was flying.

  It was exhilarating.

  The fear suddenly dissipated, and I landed gracefully in the water. I understood now why people were drawn to larger waves. My heart raced with the adrenaline rush and I wanted to do it again, but the boats were no longer nearby and the water began to calm again.

  ***

  Stunt Boy and the dark-haired guy floated next to Matt and his Jet Ski. When I reached them, I realized the guy that did the flip earlier was Prince Charming.

  Figured. I knew he couldn’t be from around here.

  “Nice jump back there,” Stunt Boy said.

  “Thanks,” I answered. When I looked at Prince Charming, he had a slight grin.

  “I’ll catch you later,” the blond guy said. Then he and Prince Charming left.

  “Need help?” I asked Matt.

  “Yeah.” He reached for my extended hand. “That was an incredible jump you had. Where did you learn that?”

  “I don’t know. It just came to me.” Who was I kidding? I had no idea. I expected to fall off, not land perfectly. Matt grabbed my hand, and a smile crept up on his face. I saw it for an instant, just before he pulled me into the water beside him.

  When I surfaced, I splashed water at him. He caught my hand, pulled me into his arms, and kissed me. This kiss was better than before, and I found myself feeling that slight tingle as our lips separated.

  Chapter 21

  Ben's Story

  Molly nudged my arm as she walked past me.

  I was sitting on a boulder at a teenage bonfire. It was expected, though I didn’t want to be there. Waiting for Emma and hearing her thoughts while that boy, Matt, flirted with her all afternoon, wasn’t what I had in mind for my Saturday plans. I’d rather catch a college football game instead of torturing myself.

  I got up and followed Molly down the tall grass path, giving sufficient space so it wouldn’t appear peculiar.

  How are you doing? she asked.

  Bored, but fine. And you?

  It’s a typical Saturday night. She shrugged. By the way, quick action on that Jet Ski this afternoon. Emma didn’t have a clue she was being helped.

  That’s what I’m here for. She would have gotten hurt if one of us didn’t intervene, I answered.

  Molly reached a cooler partially hidden behind a tree and some brush.

  I came up behind her, as she flipped open the cover and searched for a beverage. “Anything good in there?” I asked. She pushed cans around like she couldn’t find the right one.

  “Just looking for a light beer,” she said.

  A high school-aged boy with short, almost shaved, dark hair, approached. Even without my immortal skills, I could tell he played football by his stocky build.

  I dug my hand in, mixed up the selection, and pulled out a lower-calorie beer. It tastes like water, I said, handing the can to Molly.

  I know. But I need to watch my girlish figure. Being human isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I heard her chuckle in my head.

  I pulled out two other beers and handed one to the guy behind me.

  “Thanks,” he said. I recognized him from school. His formal name was Thomas John Lambert. He was a senior and a family friend of Emma’s aunt.

  “Yeah, no problem,” I replied, noticing a glance between him and Molly.

  “Ben, this is TJ,” Molly quickly said. He extended his hand, as Molly continued. “Ben is my neighbor… Ben Parker, Claire’s brother.”

  “Yeah, moved in with your aunt, or something, huh?” TJ added as we shook hands.

  I nodded, reading his thoughts of Molly as I downloaded his memories. I noticed Molly cringe when my hand touched TJ’s. After a second, I understood why. “My parents, ah… my dad, actually, got transferred to China for a few years. My sister and I wanted to finish high school here in the states, so we moved in with my aunt.” I repeated the cover story we had in place.

  “That’s cool. I hear you play soccer.”

  “I do.”

  “So you know Justin,” he said. I glanced at Molly. Images of her on TJ’s arm flipped through my head, as the downloaded data was categorized in my mind. My brain was like a computer storing information for later extraction. This data on Molly would definitely be used again, even if only as bribery.

  “Yeah, I know him. Goalie,” I answered, ignoring Molly’s mental pleas.

  “Yup, that’s him. My sister’s been dating him for about a year. Good guy. You play defense?”

  Benjamin, you can leave now. Molly’s thoughts were getting louder.

  I nodded for both of their sakes. “Left defender.”

  “Nice,” TJ said. Molly reached for his arm, “Well, it was good meeting you.”

  “Yeah, nice meeting you too,” I answered, and they walked away.

  Seriously, Molly. You hooked up with him already?

  What do you mean already? I’ve been here for well over a year, Benjamin, and who says I can’t have a little fun while I’m at it?

  I shook my head and returned to my new group of friends.

  Chapter 22

  Emma's Story

  The afternoon sped by.

  Before I knew it, classmates staying at the campground said goodbye. Even though I wasn’t sure when—or, if—I’d see them again, it wasn’t a tear-jerking send off. I would miss my soccer teammates, but I didn’t really like Aimee Wilkinson and her posse of clones.

  After a typical parental lecture from Mr. Warner about not drinking and no co-habitation when we returned, we were free to go to the island bonfire. Lewis started the engine, Matt untied the ropes, and Frank helped Melissa, Jenna, and me into the boat.

  The sun sank into the tree line as we docked on the sandbar, and the guys secured the boat to a nearby tree. A group of people, about my age, sat on boulders surrounding an oversized pit with roaring fire. The comforting smell of burning wood filled the air.

  “Glad you could make it,” Drew said. Lewis introduced everyone, but Drew barely glanced at us girls. “Good timing. Fireworks are at sunset.”

  “Fireworks on Labor Day?” Frank questioned. “I thought that was only done on the Fourth of July.”

  “You bastards never had fireworks on Labor Day?” Drew asked.

  Frank smirked, and Matt shook his head.

  “Hey, man… Us bastards spend a lot of money in your little hick town.” Lewis chuckled.

  “Spoken like a true rich boy,” Drew answered and nudged Lewis. Laughter erupted between them, and I realized they must have known each other for years to put up with the friendly banter. “So you seriously don’t have fireworks for Labor Day?”

  Frank shook his head this time.

  “The fireworks are actually a lake thing,” I intervened. All eyes turned to me. Even Drew, who barely noticed me before, stared. I felt my cheeks warm, but I continued anyway. “The Inn sponsors them. They started it back when it was a dormitory for factory employees, way before it was a resort. Now it’s an annual tradition… There’s an employee appreciation party tomorrow. This is the kick off.”

  “How’d you know that?” Drew asked. His blank stare and arrogant nod made me feel uncomfortable, and I suddenly lost my voice.

  “Her aunt owns the place, man. You didn’t know that?” Lewis answered. “Joke’s on you.”

  Drew shook his head and smiled.

  I eased into a grin. For the first time since I could remember, I wasn’t the poor Highland Park kid on Cavell Street. Instead, I was one of the rich kids.

  If only Aimee Wilkinson could see me now.

  “Let’s party!” Frank said. “Where’s the beer?”

  Drew pointed toward some tall grasses. “Cooler’s down that path, around the bend. You’ll see it.”

  As I glanced in the path’s direction, Prince Char
ming came toward us, a beer in hand. I looked away before I got busted staring again.

  “Want something? Water?” Matt asked. “I mean, I know you don’t drink—”

  “I’ll take a beer,” I answered quickly. “I mean, why not? Everyone else is.”

  Matt looked stunned, but he didn’t say anything. He and Frank took off down the path and passed out beers a few minutes later. The guys continued chatting about everything and nothing that mattered, at least to me, anyway.

  “Come on.” Melissa pointed to an open boulder near the fire, and Jenna and I followed. Jenna spread out a blanket on the sand, while Melissa and I shared the oversized rock.

  “Check him out,” Jenna said, referring to the dark-haired guy I called Prince Charming.

  “I know. I saw him at the rental office,” I whispered back. When I looked in his direction, he looked up. Our eyes met for an instant before I turned away. “He’s got a girlfriend,” I added, remembering the brunette that looked like she belonged on the cover of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition, not on the shores of Lake Bell.

  “Too bad,” Jenna responded. For the tiniest of moments, I felt like I knew him. Like it wasn’t the first time I saw his face at a campfire. But for the life of me, I couldn’t recall a time that I’d ever see him before today, or when I’d ever been on the island, especially at a bonfire.

  “Hey, what about Frank?” Melissa asked. We watched Frank slam a beer as if in competition with Drew, and then crush the can in his hand. “Ah, never mind.” When I looked back at my prince again, the same feeling returned. I felt déjà vu a few times in my life, mostly here at the lake, if I remembered correctly. But I never figured out what was so familiar.

  “Yeah. I know.” Jenna laughed. She popped open her beer and raised it. “Cheers,” she said and clinked cans. I chugged a big gulp of Coors Light. It bubbled and burned down my throat. I didn’t like beer, but I kept up appearances anyway.

  By the time Matt, Lewis, and Frank joined us at the fire, my drink was almost gone and I felt completely relaxed.

  “You okay?” Matt asked, as Jenna eagerly accepted another beer.

  “Yeah.” I couldn’t tell him how I really felt. Could I?

  “You’re not mad or something, are you?”

  I shook my head and realized my vision was a bit blurred.

  “Come on,” he said, reaching for my hand.

  “Where we going?” I asked when I stood.

  He smiled. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  “Okay,” I answered.

  He stared at me, not blinking. “You sure nothing’s wrong?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” I smiled weakly. There was everything wrong. I just wasn’t mad.

  He leaned down and kissed me gently. I wasn’t used to public displays of affection. I could feel my cheeks burn before our lips parted.

  Matt held my hand and led me down the beach. It was quiet and secluded where Lewis docked. Matt helped me inside the boat and then climbed in behind me. He pulled two beers out of his sweatshirt pocket and placed them in cup holders between the front seats.

  “Want one?” he asked, popping open one for himself.

  I shook my head.

  He took a drink and sat down.

  Away from the fire, with the sun fully set, I shivered and wished I wore jeans instead of shorts. I took a seat beside Matt and tucked my legs beneath me. An explosion of color in the sky distracted me from the chill in the air.

  “Hey, that’s cool,” he said, pointing to the starbursts in red and blue above us.

  I agreed. His eyes never met mine, as he took another drink.

  Popping sounds echoed in the dark before shades of pink spread across the sky, illuminating the boats parked beside us. A silver pontoon with a raised fishing chair, a couple of Jet Skis, and a shiny, new-looking ski boat lined the shoreline. Minutes passed as we watched the fireworks and listened to the “oohs” and “ahs” let out by friends and strangers at the fire pit nearby. The quietness between splashes of light was both peaceful and uncomfortable.

  Was it me? Why was being with him suddenly so awkward?

  When the grand finale rumbled above us and the sky brightened in rainbow colors, Matt finished his beer and put his arm around me.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  “A little.” A lot, actually.

  Matt stood up quickly and returned with two blankets in hand. He wrapped one around me and tossed the other on the seat. “Better?”

  I nodded.

  When he sat back down, he put his arm around me again and gave me a kiss.

  “I didn’t mean to make you cry earlier,” he said.

  I looked away. I didn’t want to think about earlier—or the day before, or the day before that. I didn’t want to remember why I cried.

  “It’s okay,” I mumbled.

  Matt lifted my chin and shook his head. “No, it wasn’t. I’m sorry.”

  His apology was simple and touching, but it wasn’t his fault I was a sobbing mess the past few days. “I’m going to miss you,” I whispered.

  “Me, too,” he answered. The air thickened between us in the quiet, dark night. When Matt kissed me again, he didn’t pull back. Instead, he moved me into his lap. I tasted beer on his tongue, as the kiss intensified. His hand wandered to my back and even though I was kissing Matt with the same energy I used to, it wasn’t the same and I wasn’t into it.

  Things weren’t supposed to be like this.

  I fidgeted, but Matt didn’t notice.

  I shouldn’t be thinking of moving and leaving my friends behind. My mind shouldn’t be filled with thoughts of the recent days and past memories of Dad and my life in Highland Park. I should be ecstatic to be on the senior trip, to be here, alone with Matt. But I wasn’t.

  Would everything really be all right?

  It was what everyone whispered when they went through the receiving line at Dad’s funeral. “You’ll see. It’ll all work out.” Except, I didn’t really believe that.

  The rev of an engine startled us, ending our kiss abruptly. A Jet Ski sped off into the lake, and the quiet returned. A bit of relief came over me.

  “You’re crying again,” Matt said, wiping the tears from my cheek. I wanted to tell him I was sorry, and that I didn’t mean to ruin the moment, when I glanced up at him, I could tell he already knew. “This is it, isn’t it?” he asked.

  I nodded and stared at my lap.

  “Maybe we can visit. It’s only two hours,” he said. His tone was weak.

  “Yeah, maybe,” I agreed. Even though the words were said aloud, we both knew it was over. He pulled me close for one last goodbye.

  ***

  A distant ring woke me the next morning. Light peered through the partially opened blinds. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust and realize I was in the guest room of Lewis’ home. Melissa was on the phone. When she ended the call, she nudged Jenna.

  “Wake up,” Melissa said. “My mom’s gonna be here in a minute.”

  “Already?” Jenna whined from under the pillow.

  I rubbed my eyes and glanced at the clock beside the bed. It was almost nine-thirty. Crap. Aunt Barb said something about errands this morning. I reached for my phone, as it buzzed with a text from her.

  “What time’s your aunt coming?” Melissa asked.

  “Um… she’s here. I guess,” I answered and cleared my throat. I was barely awake. Memories of the night before came back hard—the tears shed with Matt, then the beer I decided to chug after we rejoined our friends at the bonfire. We stayed out late, and I was exhausted.

  By the time I got downstairs, Aunt Barb was having coffee with Mrs. Warner in the gourmet kitchen, and Melissa’s mom was waiting in the car. Jenna said goodbye and gave me a hug before she walked out the door, tears streaming down her face.

  I fought back my own tears and turned toward Melissa.

  “I’m not saying goodbye,” she said firmly. “I’m spending the weekend wit
h you when you’re back to officially move. So, I’m just saying see you later. Okay?”

  I nodded, tears now flowing freely. Melissa squeezed me tight, then turned quickly and left without looking back. Aunt Barb wrapped her arm around my shoulder and stood with me, as I watched my friends climb in the car and drive away.

  “Come. Let’s get your things,” Aunt Barb whispered. She chatted with Mr. and Mrs. Warner while I picked up my bag and wondered where Matt was. After thanking them for their hospitality, I got up the courage to ask.

  “Oh, dear. The boys left already,” Mrs. Warner answered.

  “They left?” I was confused.

  “Well, yes. They had football practice this morning.” She glanced at her watch and continued, “About eight-thirty this morning, but I’ll let Lewis know you said goodbye.”

  “Yes. Thanks.”

  I choked back the sadness I felt.

  Chapter 23

  Ben's Story

  The walls in my bedroom were builder bland and boring.

  Marty McMann bought the model home on the tenth hole of the Carmichael Golf Course five years earlier, when her undercover sleeper assignment began.

  Marty was Barbara Carmichael’s executive assistant and my aunt in our cover story. She was willing to let Claire, my undercover sister, and I live with her. At least, that was the story we told humans.

  I touched the cream-colored wall and watched a caramel shade spread outward, floor to ceiling and around the room. As it reached the cherry wood trim, I realized it was wrong. I rubbed my hands together for a second, trying to visualize a better color choice, and then touched the wall again. An ugly light brown spread outward in a similar pace.

  As the color finished flooding the walls, Claire stood in the open doorway. “Hey, you painted!” she said, glancing around the room.

  “I painted?” I was stunned by her enthusiasm. Could a rookie be so naïve?

  “It’s a great color.”

  “Great?” Melted chocolate ice cream looked good in a parfait glass, with remnants of hot fudge and a sprinkling of chopped nuts, but it looked terrible on walls, especially in my room. I could feel the heat emanating from her embarrassment before I saw her cardinal-red face.