by LP Tvorik
As I always did, I tacked my own silent, shoddy prayer onto the end of Daddy’s. Gemma thought I was an atheist, but I didn’t believe in nothing. I believed something was listening when I closed my eyes and poured my heart out into the void. I just didn’t think it was a wizard man in the sky.
Thank you for saving Tommy’s life. Thank you for Momma who loves me and Daddy who helps people. Thank you for making me smart enough to want the stars. Thank you for giving me the spot. Thank you for the food and the roof and for letting me laugh. I’ll find a way to pay it all back someday, I promise.
I kept Tommy entertained with funny faces as we slowly worked our way through dry chicken breast, unseasoned green beans, and boxed mashed potatoes. Nobody said anything about the meal not being very good. Not even Daddy. We all knew better.
After dinner, Tommy went to enjoy his hour of Playstation time, Daddy went to his study to work on his next sermon, and Momma and I did the dishes.
“Hey, Momma?” I asked, bussing the last of the plates to the counter by the sink and pulling open the dishwasher.
“Yes?” she asked absently, listlessly spooning leftovers into little plastic containers.
I hesitated, flipping the sink on and rinsing the dishes, hoping that I could mask the depth of my question by asking it on top of the everyday task. “Are you okay?”
“What?” Her tone had a bite to it, and she stopped working. I glanced at her over my shoulder.
“I’m just wondering if you’re okay,” I said, turning back to the sink and running another plate under the faucet. Streaks of mashed potato, chicken skin, and watery bits of green bean slid off the plate and down the drain and I wished life was so easy to clean up. “You seem kinda sad and—”
“I’m fine, Alexandra,” she snapped, cutting me off. Tears bit at the area behind my eyes and we didn’t talk at all, after that. Momma shoved the leftovers in the refrigerator and left me to finish tidying up. I put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, washed the big pots by hand, and wiped down the counter. I was just finishing up when Momma came back in. She stared at me for a moment, something powerfully sad shining out at me from her hollow, tired eyes. The fingers of one thin, graceful hand worried at a button on her crisp white blouse.
“I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” she said, tears brimming in her eyes.
I didn’t really understand why she was crying. She snapped at us often enough. It wasn’t a big deal. Usually it was justified. Me and Tommy could get pretty raucous.
“It’s fine, Momma,” I said, drying my hands on a towel. “No big deal.”
“It is a big deal,” she argued feebly, stepping forward so that she stood right in front of me. I was already a couple inches taller than her, but I felt small when she pressed her soft palm to my cheek, peering up into my eyes.
“You’re a sweet girl, Aly,” she said. “My sweet, smart, beautiful girl…” she trailed off, choking on tears and I didn’t know what to do.
“Momma, are you okay?” I asked, every muscle but my mouth frozen.
“I’m okay, sweetie,” she said. Her arms went around me, one hand cradling the back of my head, gently pushing my face into her shoulder. I returned the hug, on the verge of tears myself. I felt relieved. I guess I thought I’d brought her back. That it was that easy.
I should’ve known better.
‥ ‥ ‥
I got to the spot just after ten. Of course, it was abandoned. Nothing but the me, the stars, and the swirling mist that hung over the water.
Over the years, the spot had accumulated a healthy pile of comfort objects. There was a cooler buried in the mud beneath the cave. Two lawn chairs were hidden amongst a pile of vines in the roots of the oak tree. Two years ago, Nate and I had hung a swing from one of the branches, and the next day when I took Tommy out there, I’d acted like I was as surprised to see it as he was. He thought it was magic. I dunno. I guess it kinda was.
Nate knew my brother and I came here during the day, but Tommy didn’t even know Nate existed. Sometimes I wanted to tell him, but I didn’t. Tommy wasn’t much good at keeping secrets. He always got excited and gave up the ghost, like with Momma’s Christmas present the year before and the dent we actually put in Daddy’s car when we dropped his bike on it.
I was starting to wonder if Nate had the same problem. He’d grown increasingly less careful about our pact of secrecy over the last year or so. In a way, I understood. I felt the same pull. We were closer to each other than to anyone, and it was strange to see him at school and pretend I didn’t know him.
It had to stay the way it was, though. To be honest, I was afraid to let Nate meet Aly. I knew he liked Alex. Sometimes I thought maybe he loved her as much as she loved him. But what if he hated Aly? What if he hated the make-up and the constant studying and the fierce need to be liked by everyone? Aly was as much a part of me as Alex, and if he came to hate one it was only a matter of time before he came to hate the other.
I couldn’t take that risk. Not with my best friend. Especially not when I just as nervous that I wouldn’t like him. He was a jerk at school. Kind of a scary jerk. What if he sucked into his group of friends and I ended up some serial truant with a shoplifting record and a cigarette addiction? No college would accept me! Not even the ones where Daddy wanted me to go.
I didn’t bother to put my shoes back on after crossing the stream. I left them in the sand and climbed up onto the rock, stretching out on my back.
I’d grown since discovering the spot. Back then I could lay on my back with only my feet dangling over the end. Now my whole lower leg hung down against the front end. Now, when Nate was with me, we had to lay pressed against each other to avoid rolling off opposite sides. I didn’t mind the change.
The moon was full so there weren’t many stars up. I lay, staring at the washed out sky, and worried. About Tom’s bully, who he said I didn’t have to worry about but of course I did, because what was Tom going to do about a bully like freakin’ Freddy Whitehouse? About Momma, who logic told me wouldn’t just wake up tomorrow cured of her sadness. About Nate, who kept getting himself into trouble and who wouldn’t tell me what was—
“Hey, Al.”
I jolted upright with a startled gasp, pressing a hand to my heart, and he laughed, crossing the stream in one leap and sending up a spray of water that misted my bare legs.
“Hey!” I grumbled, laying back. “Be careful.”
“Sorry,” he said, but I knew he was smiling. I could hear it in his voice. Just like I heard the disappointment as he splashed over to the cave and opened the cooler. “What the hell, Alex?” he said, his tone bereft as the lid thudded shut. “No food?”
“Well, you haven’t been showing up,” I grumbled, trying not to sound as guilty as I felt. “I’m not just gonna lug food back and forth for no reason.”
In reality, I had wanted to make a point. I wanted him to know that I was angry. The plan had felt better in theory than in execution, though. There was something about the way his stomach growled as he crossed the stream and climbed back up onto the rock beside me. Or maybe it was how quickly he sank into remorse.
“I know, Al, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, lowering himself down beside me, the warmth of his body pressed against mine from shoulder to knee. His foot knocked into mine gently. “I swear I tried to come. Don’t be mad.”
He’d have known even if I hadn’t made a point with the empty cooler. Nate always knew when I was mad. Mad, sad, happy, nervous… he always had a finger on the pulse of my emotions. The only one he couldn’t seem to detect was the warm, fluttering excitement that ghosted through my veins every time we touched. Every time our eyes met. Every time he laughed at something I said.
Sometimes I thought maybe he saw it, and sometimes, when the moonlight was just right, I thought I saw the same want in his eyes when he looked at me.
Most of the time, thoug
h, we existed in this perpetual state of comfort. Comfortable touching. Comfortable conversation. Comfortable, constant bickering. Back then, with my body waking up and my mind stretching out to test the boundaries of my universe, I didn’t want to feel comfortable and safe.
I wanted to feel alive.
“I’m not mad,” I muttered, and I knew he knew I was lying.
“Yeah you are. I’m sorry I couldn’t come, Al. Something came up where I live.”
“What came up?” I asked, turning my head and studying his profile in the moonlight. His jaw clenched as he blinked up at the sky and I knew he felt my scrutiny.
“Just some stuff, Al. Nothing serious. I just couldn’t leave, that’s all.”
“Is something the matter? I can help, you know. I’m really smart.”
“I know you are,” he said on a quiet laugh, rolling his head on the rock to flash me a grin. “I swear it’s nothing.”
I sighed but didn’t press him further. If I did, we’d end up fighting, and the last thing I wanted to do was spend what little time I had with him in a fight. Letting my foot swing, I knocked it against his in a slow rhythm as we stared up at the few stars bright enough to pierce through the light of the moon.
“Any constellations tonight?”
“Uhh,” I squinted up at the sky, studying the little flecks of light. “You can kinda see Draco.”
“The dragon?” Nate asked, shifting close to me as I pointed, like that would somehow help him see what I was seeing. He smelled like equal parts cheap soap, fresh sweat, and the clean, heady scent of the forest that lingered on both of us after we spent the night in the fresh air.
“Yeah, that’s his head, see?” I traced the four stars before shifting my finger to the dragon’s belly. “And that one, sorta nestled in there, is Ursa Minor.”
“The bear,” he said skeptically, angling his head on the rock so that it touched mine.
“Or the little dipper,” I said.
“That I can kinda see,” he said brightly. “I see a dipper. Not a bear. Definitely not the dragon.”
“That’s cuz you’ve got no imagination,” I said, trying to breathe through my mouth because the scent of him turned my insides to jelly and my brain into peanut butter.
“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. He was silent for a long time, and I listened to the crickets chirp and the frogs croak—a sphere of natural music that contracted around us a little more with each passing second. “Hey, thanks for your help with that question, today. Mr. Quinn is a dick.”
“You shouldn’t sleep in his class,” I said, pulling away and propping myself up on an elbow. He grimaced at the sky as I poked him in the shoulder. “You’re smart, Nate. You need to shape up and stop being such a jerk. Actually study.”
He laughed at that, the sound cut short as he shifted uncomfortably on the rock, wiggling his shoulders against the surface and wrapping an arm around his middle. When he finally spoke he sounded thoughtful, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “If I get my ass in gear,” he said, “we could hang out at school.”
My turn to laugh.
Our school was heavily stratified. There were the athletic guys who played football and basketball and the athletic girls who played soccer and field hockey. There were the pimply-faced nerds who played Dungeons&Dragons in the library during the lunch hour and the girls who wore short skirts and platform heels. There was me and my cluster of oddballs who kept to ourselves and followed the rules and didn’t bother anybody or impress anybody. Then, finally, there were the kids who didn’t really belong in school. Kids who looked a little older than they were, who wore ragged clothes and smoked in the parking lot and cursed at teachers. And their ringleader wanted to be my friend? In real life?
Ha.
“That’s funny,” I said, flopping onto my back and poking his ribs with my elbow. He hissed and pulled away like I’d actually hurt him. “Can you imagine what your friends would think if you started hanging out with the goody-goody preacher’s daughter?”
“That I’m a lucky sonofabitch,” he muttered angrily. Then, before I could work up the courage to ask what he meant by that, he sighed and shook his head. “Forget I asked. How’s your mom doing?”
“Still sad,” I shrugged, thinking of our strange breakthrough. I didn’t want to jinx the progress by talking about it. “Let’s talk about something fun. We’re bumming each other out tonight.”
“Okay,” he said thoughtfully. “Best case worst case?”
My spirits lifted, and I nodded. Best case worst case was my favorite of the games we’d made up.
“I’ll start” I said, squinting at the stars. “Best case scenario, Mr. Quinn gets fired for stealing school supplies and both of us actually survive eleventh grade civics class.”
Nate laughed at that, the sound dripping over my nerves like honey. “Worst case,” he said, “his replacement is a crotchety old wind bag who keeps us after the bell.”
“Best case, the crotchety old windbag and I form an unlikely bond and she mentors me and helps me with my college applications.”
“Worst case, she convinces you to abandon your passion for science and study politics.”
“Best case, I become a high level politician, get a security clearance and learn that aliens are real.”
“Worst case, your first day on the job you piss the aliens off and they attack. Everyone’s dead. Way to go, Madam President.”
I laughed, humming thoughtfully as I tried to think of a way to spin the story. Nate was better at playing the best case side than me. He could make anything sound good. Then again, maybe I was just biased. “Best case,” I said hesitantly. “I survive the apocalypse and finally have some peace and quiet.”
“Worst case…” Nate trailed off, folding his hands behind his head. I shifted, resting my own head on his arm. Just because there wasn’t much space on the rock. Not because I liked the way it felt. Definitely not. “Worst case,” he said again, his tone brightening. “The quiet drives you crazy and you start talking to inanimate objects.”
“Best case, my best friend’s name is Melanie. She’s a deflated basketball, mounted on a broomstick and she’s a good listener.”
He barked out a laugh again, the sound clipped, dying quickly as if he’d startled himself, and I had to fight not to press a hand to the warm feeling that settled into my belly. “Worst case, Melanie is an alien imposter. She’s been using your crazed ramblings to learn about the human race.”
“Uh, you lose. That’s a best case,” I said, laughing. “I got to meet an alien.”
Nate laughed again, and we fell into silence.
“I’m sorry I didn’t bring food,” I said finally, exorcising the guilt that had been gnawing on me since he arrived. “I’ll bring some tomorrow.”
“It’s okay, Alex,” he said on a sigh, reaching across his body to poke me in the ribs. “I don’t come here for the food.”
Chapter five
nate
I woke just before the sound of the bell pierced through the hard, cold air of the classroom. Blinking away sleep, I peeled my cheek off the surface of my desk and, yawning, slipped out of my chair.
If I had to rank sleeping locations, the spot would be number one and Mrs. Parker’s English class would be a close number two. Unlike Mr. Quinn, she never startled me awake for the sake of the class’s entertainment. Unlike Trish and Ronnie and Paul and Deb, she never shook me awake to fend off a nightmare. Hell, she never woke me up at all. It was like she didn’t even know I was there.
Slinging my mostly-empty bag over my shoulder, I trudged past her desk, giddy with excitement. Lunchtime. Food.
“Nathan, why don’t you stay back a minute.”
I bit back a groan, drawing to a halt by her desk. The rest of the students filed past me and I turned a glare at my teacher. “It’s lunchtime,” I growle
d warningly.
“I understand that, but the food can wait.” She said it sweetly, completely unphased by my very clear, very real anger.
No, it damn well couldn’t. If I missed stupid lunch I wouldn’t see another square meal for twenty four hours. Why was that so hard to understand? Honestly, sometimes it felt like everyone I knew was conspiring to starve me to death.
Still, Mrs. Parker was the least awful teacher I had. I didn’t want to piss her off.
“Fine,” I bit out, slumping into a chair at the front of the classroom. She’d see it as attitude and disrespect, but mostly I just wanted to sit before my stupid knees gave out. God, I was fucking hungry. Maybe I could lift a couple power bars from the gas station down the street on my way home. The owner had only installed one camera and it pointed at the register, not the aisles.
Mrs. Parker didn’t say anything about my disrespectful posture. She just stared at me, cocking her head to the side and narrowing her eyes like she was studying some kind of fascinating, otherworldly specimen. Study away, lady. Whatever gets me out of here faster.
“Stay here,” she said sternly, pinning me to the chair with a glance as she stood from her desk. “I’ll be back in two minutes. If you’re gone when I get back I will come find you, so don’t even think about leaving.”
She left, and I contemplated dipping out. She’d be pissed but I could probably cut the lunch line and stuff some food in my face before she found me. That sounded like a lot of work, though. That plan involved some running or, at the very least, brisk walking. Too much effort.
Mrs. Parker returned less than two minutes later with a Styrofoam tray, which she set on the desk in front of me before returning to her seat.
“Lunch detention with Mr. Gideon down the hall has the meals delivered,” she explained, nodding her head toward the tray. “We’ll eat together while we talk, okay? That way we don’t have to rush.”
Suspicion crept up my spine, but the smell of the food wrapped around my head and made me stupid. It was all I could do to fumble the plastic spork free from its filmy wrapper, spilling the toilet-paper napkin and salt and pepper packets onto the desk, and use that instead of digging into the meal with my bare hands like the animal she probably thought I was.