Chapter 13
WOLF
I don’t dream. I nightmare.
If my sleep ever gets interrupted by a dream, it’s always a bad one. The kind that leaves you soaked in sweat and gasping for air, wide awake at two in the morning. I dream about wandering into a massive crowd and the people ripping me apart, limb by limb. I dream about diving into the ocean, the shadow of a huge shark just behind me, sharp teeth on my back. I dream about things hunting me, killing me, eating me alive.
So I don’t like sleeping very much. Or at all. I force myself to get five hours, but some nights are impossible. Some nights, all I have are my rings, and the moonlight, and the sinking, awful feeling that I’m never going to be able to escape whatever’s hunting me. Sometimes, the dreams feature Mark. Mark watching as I’m torn apart. Mark laughing as I’m shredded to nothing more than skin. Mark, holding the torch to my dry pile of wood, watching me go up in flames.
Tonight, though, is a different night.
The nightmare takes place in school, for once. I’m walking down a long, impossible hallway, and Mark is at the end of it. Everything is eerily quiet, his face all smiles. I walk towards him, knowing I have to, knowing I can’t escape him even if I try. And as I’m walking to him, Beatrix comes between us. She’s telling me to stop, begging me to. And then Mark transforms into a beast, a monster, something huge and dark that lunges for her and bites her head clean off, blood and bone crunching, and I’ve lost her – my insides freeze over – I’ve lost the only girl who’s ever made my heart jump, the only girl who argues with me, pushes back against me instead of giving in, the only girl who held me without question, accepting my fear without judgement or laughter –
The only girl I’ve ever wanted.
The only girl who will never want me.
And then there’s fire – fire everywhere, the scent of gasoline and blood fresh in my nose, and I’m upside down, the dirt in my hair, and Mom won’t move, I keep calling her name but she won’t move, or say anything, and the blood pool beneath her keeps getting bigger, and bigger -
I bolt awake, sweat cooling on my clammy skin. The moon outside is full and ripe, but the light it gives off feels cold and uncaring. I throw my blankets off and pull on a shirt, desperate to get away from my bed and my scraps of the nightmare still hanging there.
This new house is too quiet, too big and empty at night. Even in the day it echoes, my footsteps louder than I’d like. The paintings on the wall are just impartial snapshots of oil and watercolor, not a single family photo there to greet me.
I wander down to the kitchen and open the fridge, rummaging around for a soda.
“You’re up late.”
The voice is undoubtedly Dad’s. I groan inwardly, and straighten. He’s sitting at the kitchen table by the French windows, in the dark, the only thing in his hands a necklace I recognize instantly – Mom’s amethysts.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“That’s no way to speak to me,” Dad says with a sneer. “Why don’t you come sit down?”
“I’d rather not.”
“Nightmares keep you up again?”
I narrowed my eyes. “How do you know that?”
“Because they keep me up, too. But for different reasons, I assume. Mine are about your mother, and yours are about, I don’t know. Being homosexual, or somesuch.”
I don’t even allow him the pleasure of seeing me flinch. “And people wonder where I got my asshole genes.”
“It’s true,” He agrees. “You got everything negative from me. Your mother was an angel.”
“She was a person,” I correct him. “She was impatient, she was too hard on herself, she –”
“She was none of those things,” Dad says immediately. “Time has warped your perception. She was good, and kind, and we didn’t deserve her.”
“You’re the one who’s time-warped,” I snap. “Speak for your own damn self. Sure, you didn’t deserve her. But we did.”
Dad straightens, his eyes burning.
“You deserve nothing. You were the burdens that drove her to carelessness – she was worried the whole morning about your ear infection, she was sleep deprived the whole night before, worrying about you –”
“Fine!” I shout. “You want to bring that up? Fine. I’m the reason she died. Are you happy? Does that make you feel better about your sorry, self-pitying ass? Does it make you feel good to blame me for losing the only person you ever fucking cared about in this world?”
The silence after my shout rings. Dad stares me down, and for a second I swear to God he’s getting ready to deck me.
“This is how you three honor her memory?” Dad asks, so cold it chills me to the bone. “By wasting your youth on….parties and drugs? Wasting it on….on men.”
This time, I can’t hide my flinch. Dad stands, his full height amplified by shadow.
“You disgust me,” He hisses. “And its nights like these that I wonder why I still care about you. It’s nights like these that I wished it would’ve been you, not her.”
I stare at the wall, past him. Through him. I’m used to it, to the these exact words, said over and over again in so many different ways, at so many different times since she’s died. I learned to put up a barrier between the hurt and me. But tonight, I’m left raw and bleeding, and his words burn like salt in my wounds.
He leaves. He doesn’t stick around to take his words back. He never does. And after this long, I’d never believe his sincerity if he did. He genuinely believes everything he says. He believes I should’ve died, back then. He wishes I did.
It’s only when he’s gone do I dare to move, to breathe. Fury and helplessness war with each other in my lungs, and I throw the soda can at the wall, watching it dent. Useless. Everything feels so useless, when I talk to him.
I promised myself long ago I’d never think of him as my father again.
But sometimes I want to. Sometimes, I desperately want to.
*****
BEATRIX
When I want to, I do a great job of forgetting people.
It took me a week, but everything Wolf-related in my mind went into my mental trash can. The way he looked at me in the dress – gone. The way he glared at me when I tried to stop him from ‘bullying’ that freshman – gone. The way he dumped a vase of puke on Eric to get him away from me – gone.
The way he held me in the garage, smelling like oil and cinnamon and laughing – gone.
Wolfgang Blackthorn was officially a zero in my head; someone I was convinced I’d never think about again. He wanted to be enemies, so I erased every nice memory I had of him, stored it so far back in my head I’d never remember them again. It helped a lot of big tests were coming up, and I had to study for all of them. The flood of information served as nice, fertile dirt to bury him under.
I was going to study, ace these tests, spy some more on his brothers, and – once my scholarship was secure - live out the rest of my time at Lakecrest minding my own business, all the way to NYU’s doorstep.
Dad hadn’t fully recovered from his locked-room episode. He’d linger there for a day before coming out and making a bunch of food for me, and then disappearing again. The food was an improvement, at least. I don’t know what he did in his room, but I knew sometimes, when TV wasn’t enough of an escape, he’d start writing again. He used to be a novelist, after all, before the depression got so bad he couldn’t put two words to a page anymore and his editor and publishing house dropped him. If I pressed my ear to his door, I could hear the steady ‘click-clack’ of keys on a keyboard.
Man, it’d be nice if he started writing again. I used to love reading the stories he’d write for me when I was a kid – chock full of dragon-slaying princesses and evil troll-witches. But maybe that was childish of me. Wishing for those stories was just that – wishing. And wishing was pointless. I’d learned that much already.
I tried not to think about how Mom was coming home less and less. I tried not to think about the word ‘divorce’, because everything was teetering on a razor’s edge already and if the ‘d’ word came into it, I felt like everything would come crashing down. Maybe Mom felt the same way – which is why she was staying out so many nights when she didn’t have work. Maybe she too knew that divorce would collapse what was left of our family into nothing more than dust and bones.
Maybe she knew it would hurt Dad most of all, in ways that might not be reparable.
So yeah, for a brief week and a half, I forgot all about Wolf Blackthorn. I had too much going on. Getting up earlier to run with Burn started to get easier, and I almost stopped completely hating running. Panting and sweating wasn’t so bad after you did it a bunch and your body got used to it. Fitz and I agreed to stop the whole ‘fake tutor’ thing, even though I kept letting him believe I was crushing on Wolf. It lead to a couple of awkward situations, the least of which was Fitz trying to force Wolf’s number on me.
“Go on, stop being stubborn about it,” Fitz sighed. “It’s just a cellphone number.”
“What would I even say?” I asked. “’Hey, it’s me, this girl you don’t care about, creepily texting you with your number I got. Somehow’. “
“You wouldn’t be the first girl to try it.”
“Fantastic.” I threw my hands up. “Just what I wanted to hear.”
It turned out pretending to like Wolf was a lot easier than hating him. Or maybe my hate for him was mistaken by Fitz as love. Whatever the case, I barely needed to act different at all, and Fitz never once questioned me. We walked to lunch together, which was weird in and of itself, but Fitz insisted it was for ‘tutoring’ me in how to get his brother’s attention.
“Are you ready for the tests?” He asked. “There’s a thousand and seven of them this week. If you need something -” He quirked his eyebrows. “To, you know, get through it – I’m your guy.”
“No thanks. I think I’m good without your illicit substances,” I sighed. “But you never know. I could pretend to be dumb again for a hot two seconds and tank my academic career.”
“Don’t even joke about that. Who would start giving me a run for my money if you played dumb again, hrm? Do you know how boring it is being the smartest one in this place?”
“I’m sure it’s agonizing.”
“Agonizing!” He agreed loudly. “I was on the verge of shriveling up and dying before you came along.”
I picked up a burrito and rolled my eyes at him. “I’m flattered.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to prepare you for the flood of romantic nonsense that’s gonna come your way whenever Wolf finds out you like him back.”
I tried to hide my flinch. If only he knew the truth.
“I-I seriously doubt he likes me.”
Fitz doubled around, shaking a chocolate milk in my face. “Bee, look at me. Do I look like the type of guy who would lie to you?”
His golden hair caught the sunlight and his freckles scrunched with his devilish grin. I sighed.
“Yes. Always.”
“Fair enough. But do I look like the type of guy who doesn’t know what’s going on around him at all times with piercing emotional accuracy?”
He posed with the milk, and waited. I groaned.
“I dunno. Maybe?”
“I’m his brother, Bee. I still remember when he gave his first Valentine’s card in kindergarten to Elise Baker. I know what he acts like when he’s got it bad.”
“Asshole-ishly?” I guessed.
“Terrified! The poor guy’s so divorced from his attraction to other people he barely knows how to handle it! So he stuffs it in the back and hopes it goes away, until it builds and builds and then explodes like Mount Vesuvius. That’s just how he is.”
“So what you’re saying is, it’s hopeless.”
“It’s not hopeless,” He corrected. “It’s just…annoying. I’d love it if he could deal with his shit in a, you know, normal and healthy way, but after Mom –“
He stopped, and the air suddenly got heavy. Something was lying just beneath the surface of his words, tantalizingly close to coming out. His smile faded, bit by bit. But he shook it off and smiled so bright again I was nearly blinded.
“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re studying to be a psychologist, huh? God knows he needs one of those.”
“Fitz, what happened with your Mom?” I pressed.
“You already know,” His eyes got sharp. “Don’t pretend you don’t.”
“I mean – I know she…” I flinched. “I know she – “
“You can say it,” He demanded. “Died.”
A few people heard him and started staring. I sat down at my usual table and lowered my voice.
“Sorry. I know she died.”
“When I was eight,” He barreled on. “In a car accident.”
I felt like a jerk for pressing him. What was I thinking? “I’m so sorry, Fitz.”
“It’s fine. I didn’t get the worst of it.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I wasn’t there. Not like Wolf was.”
My chest felt like it was trying to cave in on itself. “Wolf was –“
“There, when it happened. They pulled him out of the wreckage. Or, they tried to. But he wouldn’t let go of Mom’s hand.”
Ice and fire waged war in my veins. Is that what Wolf really meant in the garage? ‘The first time since Mom died’? I’d thought it was ‘the first time since Mark’. But maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe the truth was so much sadder than what I’d inferred.
“And your dad,” I regained my voice. “Your dad didn’t send you to counseling? Or at least get counseling for Wolf?”
“Oh, he tried.” Fitz opened his milk. “But Wolf refused to talk to any of them. It used to be a lot worse. He used to wake up screaming. I guess time helps – he hasn’t done that in a while. But on the downside, he can’t, you know, stand shaking hands with someone. So. There’s that.”
I felt like my brain was frozen, glitched as it tried to process everything.
“You should’ve seen it,” Fitz laughed. “The one time I tried to give him gloves. A nice Yves Saint Laurent pair, very sleek and stylish. Black leather, with clips. I thought it would help with the whole skin-to-skin thing. But he just threw them in the fireplace. Said it was pointless to try to hide behind a piece of clothing. Didn’t even give them a chance.”
Fitz put his head in his hand, scowling at the graffiti etched into the table.
“Sometimes it feels like he doesn’t want to get better.”
Those words freaked me out – it sounded exactly like the things I used to think, back when Dad was first diagnosed. In the darkest parts of me, when I’m down and out, I still think like that. Reading the psych textbooks helped me, so much so that I knew I’d be lost in despair if I didn’t read them.
“Fitz,” I put my hand over his. “Listen – I’m the one trying to go to NYU for psychology, right?”
He snorted. “Yeah.”
“You know how many of those textbooks I check out a week.”
“A hundred million.”
I chuckled. “Yeah. A hundred million. So when I tell you it’s not a matter of Wolf wanting to get better, you understand me, right?”
Fitz shrugged. “Not really.”
“Nobody wakes up one day and says ‘I want to get better’,” I shook my head. “Well, sometimes they do. But that’s a very rare occasion. And getting better isn’t as easy as going to see a shrink three times a week. It doesn’t work like that. If one part of your body is hurt, you don’t just put a band-aid on the spot and call it a day. You wash the wound, you put antibiotic ointment in there, and you wrap it up. You change the bandage, you put more ointment on. Over and over, until it’s healed. Sometimes it gets infected, and you have to go get that taken care of, with pills and stuff. And then sometimes, no matter how hard you try to keep it clean and dry, it gets re-infected. And then, maybe after it’s all healed, the scar’s skin is too tight, or you lose all feeling in that area, or maybe it aches so bad you can’t get out of bed some days.”
I took a breath.
“That’s what it’s like. It’s not easy, okay? And it’s even harder to know where to start. All you can do is offer a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on. Sometimes it’s not even that dramatic; sometimes all you can do is sit down and watch TV with them. Sometimes all you can do is throw a microwave dinner in and bring it to them with a glass of juice. Sometimes, you can’t do anything at all.”
Fitz was quiet. I fell silent, suddenly feeling awkward about how much I’d talked. I’d sounded preachy. I knew there was nothing worse than someone trying to tell you about how hard it was for someone else, when they were the ones suffering, too.
“So you’re saying…there’s nothing I can do for him?”
“Just be there,” I said. “That’s all.”
Fitz studied his empty milk carton. I noticed the faint eyebags around Fitz’s green gaze. It struck me, then, that the Blackthorn brothers were going through a lot more shit than people knew. I was so convinced their lives were perfect and easy, and yet sitting in front of me was clear evidence that they weren’t. For all their money and connections and popularity, they were still just boys, recovering from the loss of their mother, confused and as lost as any of us.
“Do you wanna,” Fitz ran a hand through his hair. “Do you wanna come and smoke with me? To get my mind off all this shit? I’d rather not be alone.”
“You can’t hide in drugs forever, Fitz,” I said. He smiled, though something about it was a little broken, cracked on the edges.
“I know. I know that better than anyone. Just let me have this now, okay?”
I nodded, but refused to come with him. He finally gave up when he spotted Keri – trotting over to her and forcing his smile to be cheery. Had he always done that? Or was I just noticing it now?
****
When people are sad, they deal with it in a lot of different ways. For Fitz, it was drugs. For Dad, it was closing the doors on the world. For Mom, it was staying out more.
For me it was, and always would be, hiding in the library.
The smell of books was the smell of my childhood, of old imaginary friends and new, hidden between the pages. Libraries meant quiet - gentle and soothing quiet - like the quiet of a low tide. Everything was orderly, too – the Dewey decimally sorted books, the A to Z labelling, the fiction and nonfiction and vampire romance sections. Everything had its place. When life got too confusing, I came to the library, because nothing about the library was confusing. The librarians would help you, no matter what you were looking for, they always had at least one answer, or a semblance of an answer. And sometimes, that was a lot more than the world outside could give me.
Unfortunately, Fitz knew about this. He knew my hideout was the library. Doubly unfortunately, he’d told Burn.
“Bee,” Burn’s low voice made me put my book down, and once again I was struck by just how damn big Burn was. He was tall enough to reach the topmost shelf, easily.
“Oh, uh, hey,” I closed my textbook. “What’s up? Are you alright –” I stopped myself. He hated that phrase. “I mean, uh, how’d you find me? Wait, let me guess – Fitz.”
“Fitz,” Burn agreed with a nod. “Come with me.”
“If you want me to run my ass off again after this morning, in which you worked me like a racing horse, I’m gonna have to decline.”
“It’s a surprise,” Is all he said. His face was placid, calm as always. His eyes were sleepy, giving nothing away about what he was feeling or thinking.
“Is it a good surprise?” I asked.
“I think you’ll like it.”
“Simple and mysterious at the same time,” I sighed and stood up, packing my books in my bag. “I don’t know how you do it, Burn.”
“Talent.” He answered. I followed him out of the library, admiring his height. He was like a giant striding among walls of books. Even the librarian gaped a little, then waved nervously goodbye to me.
Burn led me across campus, over the short grasses and around the statues of important old dead guys, until we reached the parking lot. He opened the door of his convertible, and I hesitated.
“Wait. The surprise is off-campus?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to sell me on the black market for my liver?” I asked as I settled in the passenger seat.
“No.”
“Fair enough.” I clipped my seatbelt on as he got in. “Take me away. Just. Not very fast, please. But also make it quick – I should probably get home in an hour or so.”
“Demanding,” He sighed. I smiled.
“They don’t call me ‘Annoying Annie’ in this school for nothing.”
He drove past the fancy sign that read LAKECREST PREPARATORY HIGH SCHOOL. I flipped it off.
“They don’t call you that.” He said.
“Well, they should. I’d prefer a mean nickname to all the weird looks and half-baked rumors.”
“You’re lucky.”
I’d spent enough time around him at this point to translate the Burnese; I was lucky that’s all it was. And he was right. It could be a lot worse. But that didn’t mean I had to be grateful for it.
“Just because it isn’t super bad doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck,” I said sagely. Burn grunted and took a left turn onto the highway, and I forgot how to breathe. Or, more accurately, the wind stole the breath from my lungs in that way that happens when you’re in a fast-moving thing and your windpipe is left open to invaders. I figured out how to breathe again, and let the wind whip my hair around. I watched the world flash by in autumn colors, the trees giving one last dying gasp of saffron yellow and burnt orange sugar.
We entered a richy-rich suburb; you could tell from the way all the houses had roman columns on their porch and random, sleekly modern glass walls. Only rich people had glass for walls.
Burn pulled over, and told me to wait. I did, twiddling my thumbs, only to groan when I saw who he was bringing back with him in the side mirror; Fitz, and Wolf. Together. One at a time they weren’t so bad, but together? Fitz thought I liked Wolf. I’d told Wolf we were squarely enemies. How the ever-loving hell was I going to pull this acting stint off?
“If it isn’t our lovely mascot,” Fitz jumped into the convertible without opening the door.
“Hi,” I managed. I didn’t look at Wolf, and he didn’t look at me either, though out of the corner of my eye I did see him hesitate with his fingers on the door handle.
“Why is she here?” He growled at Burn. Burn doubled around and slid into the driver’s seat.
“Because. She’s my friend.”
There was a silence. Friend? Yeah, I could say Burn and I were definitely friends. He was easy to get along with, and helped me feel better about stuff. I think that qualified us as friends.
Or, it didn’t. It couldn’t. A friendship wasn’t based on one person trying to get information out of the other. I’d started talking to Burn because of the agreement with Mr. Blackthorn. None of what we shared was built on a neutral standpoint. It was all me, trying to get what I wanted, through him. I knitted my hands around each other in my lap.
Fitz laughed like something was funny. Wolf gave up and got in the backseat.
“You don’t have friends, Burn,” Fitz corrected.
“I do.” He said. “You should try it sometime.”
“I have plenty of friends!” Fitz argued.
“Ones that aren’t friends with you for your drugs,” Wolf grunted. Fitz laughed again.
“Oh, you’re one to talk, Wolf. Your last friendship didn’t exactly go down so well now, did it?”
He was talking about Mark. It was a low blow. Wolf flinched.
“That’s enough,” I snapped. “Stop being nasty to each other. Burn has a surprise for us, so all of us need to grow up and try to act like we deserve it.”
Fitz huffed. Wolf went silent. Burn started the convertible again, and we drove. I couldn’t help but sneak looks back at Wolf in the side mirror – the wind whipped his dark hair around. He closed his eyes once or twice, looking serene and almost peaceful, like the wind was sweeping him away to a better place. My stomach churned. Who gave him the right to be so damn handsome? I thought I’d locked all my positive thoughts of him in the bulletproof safe in the very back of my mind, but now they were threatening to break out all on their own, just by seeing him. It was garbage.
“We’re not going to Seamus again, are we?” I asked Burn, desperate to tear my attention away from Wolf’s profile. “I don’t have his money for the dress, so he’ll probably break my kneecaps. With a teacup.”
Burn rolled his sleepy eyes. “Not Seamus. Somewhere more interesting.”
I slumped in my seat. His version of interesting was probably another trail, even harder and wheezier than the one we ran every morning. But to my surprise, he took an exit that led to Baskerville – a small suburb east of Seattle known for its empty plains of…well, nothing. It used to be a farming community, but that got shut down quick with the advent of the dot com industry and all the kids moving into the city for work. So now we drove past fields and fields of fallow grass, little barns and houses dotting the landscape. The Cascade Mountains threw shadows on the horizon, tall and majestic and lonely.
“Why are we in the boonies, Burn? You know me and Mother Nature broke up years ago.” Fitz complained. Wolf couldn’t take his eyes off the mountains.
“Are we coming out here to hunt ghosts or something?” I asked. Burn rolled his eyes. It might’ve been exasperation, but at least there was more way motion on his face than usual. I took it as a good sign.
Finally, Burn turned the convertible onto a little dirt road carving through a huge empty field. I squinted – in the distance I could see what looked like an old army barn – the kind they keep planes and stuff in.
“Oh no,” Fitz suddenly moaned. “No, no, no –“
“We’re going to do it,” Burn said. “Finally. Together.”
“No! Are you crazy?” Fitz yelled. “Let me out of this car! Let me out right now!”
“Are you gonna walk back?” Wolf inquired. Fitz slumped down so far in his seat he touched the floor.
“Burn, I don’t ask for much as your brother. I just want a quiet place of my own, a nice cup of tea, a book –“
“A computer to hack,” I chimed in.
“A joint to smoke,” Wolf added.
“A class to sleep through,” Burn said.
There was a pause. Fitz groaned.
“You make me sound like a monster.”
“A whiny monster,” Burn agreed.
“Where are we, anyway?” I asked.
“An old friend’s,” Wolf said. “Of our mother’s.”
Fitz stopped groaning at that. Burn pulled the car over to the side of the barn, and got out. I followed. Wolf got out too, but Fitz crossed his arms and laid sideways over the backseat, his freckled face scrunched up.
“I’m not getting out.”
“You are,” Burn insisted. Fitz sat up quickly.
“You know I hate this place! I specifically avoid it every year you and Wolf go. You used her –” Fitz pointed at me. “As distracting bait! I can’t believe you, you – you charlatan!”
“Small words,” Burn requested.
“It means you’re a filthy liar and a huge asshole!”
“I try.” Burn deadpanned.
“It would be nice,” Wolf said. “If you joined us for once.”
Fitz’s eyes darted between me and Wolf, then back to me again. I was still utterly lost as to what was going on.
“You’ll get out,” Burn said. “And you’ll do it. Like the rest of us.”
“I’m not like the rest of you!” Fitz hissed. “I don’t like flinging myself off into five thousand feet of air –“
“Air?” I muttered. Suddenly it made sense. The aircraft barn, the big open space –
“There you kids are!” A rough voice greeted us. An older man with tanned nut-brown skin smiled at us with all his wrinkles. He tipped the brim of his baseball cap to me. “And you brought a lady with you, this year. Good afternoon, darling.”
“H-Hi?” I tried. “I’m Bee.”
“Bee – well isn’t that a pretty name. I’m Jakob Petersen, owner of this fine establishment.” He smiled, his eyes going wide. “And Fitz! By the devil – I thought we’d lost you to the sands of time, my boy. Turns out those sands just made you taller and more handsome, didn’t they?”
Fitz grumbled something that sounded like a ‘hi’. The man nodded to Wolf, and shook hands with Burn, who towered over his average height.
“You gotta tell me your secret, Burn,” Jakob said. “How’d you get Fitz to come back after all these years?”
Burn nodded to me. “Bait.”
“Thanks,” I said. “It’s great knowing how much I’m worth around here.”
Jakob laughed. “More than your weight in gold, Bee. I haven’t seen Fitz in nearly ten years. He must like you something fierce to turn up out here again.”
“She’s amusing,” Fitz barked. “Unlike everyone else here!”
“Stop being sour about it,” Wolf snapped. “You got fooled. So what? Roll with it.”
Fitz slapped a palm to his forehead. “I never thought I’d see the day where you, Mr. Stick-Up-Your-Ass, would be lecturing me on the merits of going with the flow.”
“This is a sky diving facility, isn’t it?” I asked. Jakob nodded.
“You betcha. Blackthorn kids here used to come with their mom – god rest her soul – every year for her birthday. She loved the adrenaline. Can’t say I knew a woman who loved it more than she did, that’s for damn sure. You still taking care of her bike, Wolf?”
Wolf nodded, avoiding my eyes. We both knew he’d let that bike fall in the garage that day – saving me from injury instead. I was still mystified by that. He cherished that thing more than breathing.
“Let’s get this show on the road, then.” Jakob clapped his hands. “How many we taking up today – four?”
“Three,” Fitz squeaked.
“Four,” Burn insisted.
“Four it is. You kids wait in the office while I get everything ready. There’s a water cooler and a chip machine in there if you get hungry or thirsty.”
“Thanks, Jakob.” Wolf said. Jakob smiled.
“No worries, Wolf. It’s good to have you all here again.”
Burn led us over to a small trailer that’d been refurbished with an air conditioner and a few couches. Wolf settled on one, resting his head on the back of it. Fitz fiddled with the chip machine, stuffing Fritos into his face nervously. Burn leaned against a wall and waited, and I skimmed my fingers over the brochures piled by the door – Petersen’s Sky Diving Company.
“Are you afraid of heights, Fitz?” I asked. Fitz laughed, brittle.
“I’m not afraid of heights.”
Wolf looked up. Burn looked over. Both fixed their stares on him.
“Okay,” Fitz relented. “So I’m a little afraid of heights. But you have a fuckin’ phobia, Wolf! You know what it’s like! Why are you forcing me to do this?”
“Because,” Wolf droned. “Every time we did it when we were kids, you got so scared before it happened. And when it was over, you got excited and wanted to do it again.”
“I don’t remember that!”
“You probably blocked it out. It happens a lot to kids going through traumatic experiences.” I offered helpfully. I skimmed through the brochure, eager to lap up the extensive safety tips Jakob had included. Heights wasn’t my thing – any sane person was afraid of them – but least sky diving wasn’t anywhere near my house, or my family. If I was diving through the sky, I couldn’t be home, and no matter how much my conscious nagged at me to get home and make dinner for Dad, I just didn’t want to. Not today. Just for one day, I’d take a break. I deserved that much, didn’t I?
“Okay, Madam Shrink, then what do you suggest I do?” Fitz asked.
“Deep breaths,” I said. “One at time. Oh and whatever you do, don’t look down.”
“Fantastic,” He threw his arms up in defeat. “I can’t wait to die in the prime of my life by falling fifteen-thousand feet straight down.”
“Actually, it’s usually only twelve thousand feet for casuals.” I flipped through the brochure and showed him all the facts. “Also, there’s only a .0007 percent chance you’ll die skydiving, compared to, like, a car crash which is –“
I realized what I was saying and shut up quickly. The Blackthorns didn’t seem to be bothered, though. Fitz groaned and collapsed on the couch next to Wolf.
“Stop being a diva,” Wolf said.
“Stop being a holier-than-thou jerk!” Fitz snapped back.
“So you guys do this every year?” I asked Burn. Burn nodded.
“It’s better than visiting her grave.”
“Why?”
“It just…feels wrong. She never liked being cooped up.”
The sound of something loud and rumbling echoed through the walls. Jakob walked in seconds after, dust blowing in with him.
“Alright! The chopper’s ready. Let’s get you guys up there!”
Wolf and Burn and I got up to follow, Fitz moaning as he shuffled out behind us. It hit me as we got closer to the source of the noise – this was really happening. My stomach uneasily twisted. I was going to jump off a helicopter into open air. Fitz was right – this was crazy.
"It's the perfect day for jumpin'!" Jakob yelled over the noise. He led us into the aircraft barn, where a black helicopter waited, the kind that was bulky enough to fit a lot of people. Military helicopters, I guess they were? I had no idea. The sound was incredible - the massive blade whomping every time it went by. Wolf talked with Jakob about the engine of the thing as Burn got in the open door. Fitz patted the side of the helicopter and shouted mournfully.
"Nice to meet you, murderer. I'm Fitz. Please, if there's any goodness left in your cold metal heart, don't kill me."
"We'll be fine," I said, walking up behind him. "Wolf and Burn have done this a ton. And Jakob's a professional."
Fitz shot a 'if only you knew' look at me. "I thought you'd have realized by now - just because Wolf and Burn do something a ton doesn't mean it's safe. Or sane."
"Look, Fitz, I'm in the same boat. Er, plane."
"Helicopter," He offered.
"Helicopter," I put a hand on his shoulder. "I've never, ever done this before. You have way more experience than me, and I’m scared shitless."
"Then why are you agreeing to this? You could just wait in the car. Burn would let you get away with it, I know it."
"Because," I shrugged. "Skydiving is better than what I'd be doing right about now."
"And that is?"
"Making dinner for Dad. Checking if he's had his pills. Trying to have a conversation with him that doesn't piss him off or make him feel like shit."
Fitz goes quiet.
"Besides, I used to hate running. But then I went running with Burn every morning, and sort of started to like it. Even the first time I did it, when I was wheezing and in agony, he showed me something to enjoy about it. So. I think maybe he knows his stuff."
"Or maybe he's a freakin' adrenaline junkie."
"That too,' I laughed. “But hey - you're an actual junkie."
He heaved a sigh. "Ugh. You can't be a junkie if it's only pot."
"And sometimes pills."
"Yes, thank you, how could I forget; and sometimes pills."
I laughed. Fitz smiled wryly, looking a little more like the devious, energetic guy I was used to seeing in the halls every day. For a moment we might as well have been back there, ribbing each other with wittiness and sass.
"Okay." Fitz breathed in, then out. "You said deep breaths."
"Yeah. Slowly. Although, as we get higher up in elevation, you might need to breathe faster or you'll pass out."
"Great. Cool. You're making this so much easier."
I reached out and booped his nose. "You're welcome."
I left Fitz to breathe and stood next to Burn as he watched the blades rotate.
"Nervous?" He asked, his deep voice cutting through the noise without having to be raised one iota.
"Of this? A little."
"No, I meant Wolf."
He nodded to Wolf, who was still talking to Jakob.
"I'm not!" I insisted. "I'm not...nervous about him."
"You are. Always."
Was I really that obvious? The answer hit me; no, Burn was just really good at people stuff. Despite his few vocalizations, he was great at watching them and figuring out their deal. I was no exception.
"Well it's not my fault," I protested. "It's a little hard to be anything but nervous when someone stares like Wolf does, like he wants to set me on fire."
I could've sworn Burn smirked, but it was gone quickly when Jakob called out to us.
"Alright! Get in and strap in, and we'll be off!"
We all clambered in the open side door, four seats behind the pilot's for passengers. I chose a seat next to Burn and prayed Wolf wouldn't sit next to me, but he did. Fitz was on the end, mumbling what sounded like a prayer.
"Here we go!" Jakob yelled, and the helicopter glided forward. It had wheels, which was clever, I realized, or else how would a helicopter get out of a barn? The rumble of the engine was deafening, and I winced. A pair of heavy plastic headphones suddenly came into my view. I turned to see Wolf offering them.
"Thank you," I mouthed. He nodded. I put them on, the sound becoming muted. All that was left was the spectacular view as we took off, leaving the plains of grass far below us. The earth became a patchwork blanket of fall colors and crops and suburbs. The sun hung low on the horizon, golden and swollen. The sky was as blue as blue could be. The wind whistled through the cabin, teasing Wolf and Fitz's hair and ruffling Burn's shirt. It played havoc with my hair, tangling every which way, and I secretly felt bad for Wolf, since the wind kept blowing it around his face. I tried to tuck it away, but it just got free again.
"This is your captain speaking," Jakob's voice came in loud and clear over the speakers, even with my headphones on. "I'm going to close the doors from here on out, since it gets pretty tempestuous. After that you can get out of your seats and start putting on your gear. Wolf, Burn, I expect you'll help the newcomer?"
The doors of the helicopters slid shut, the howling wind dulling to a bare whistle. I took my head phones off and smoothed my hair back. Wolf and Burn immediately got out of their seats, rummaging around racks and cabinets in the back of the helicopter. Fitz stayed firmly in his seat, eyes shut and hands clasped together.
"Hey," I put a hand on his shoulder. "It’s okay. We're in this together."
Fitz looked at me, eyes so wide and damp I could've sworn he was ready to cry. It was weird, seeing him near-tears when I'd been so used to his confident, quippy self at school. I couldn't resist the urge to hug him.
"It'll be okay! C'mon, we can do this. It'll be over before you know it."
"One way or another," He croaked. I laughed and helped him out of his seat. I stole a glance out a window - we were definitely much higher up now. My insides danced like a conga line.
"You get her," Burn said, pointing Wolf in my direction. "I'll get Fitz."
Wolf nodded, and they both approached with armfuls of gear. Fitz immediately got antsy, refusing to put on anything Burn offered, but Burn eventually strong-armed him into it, with much fuss.
"Get off me, you hairy giant!" Fitz snapped.
"That insult doesn't work anymore," Burn said slowly. "Get a new one."
"You....you massive douche!" Fitz tried. Burn shook his head and clipped a harness on Fitz's quivering chest. Wolf and I, however, were a bit more....strained. Okay, a lot more strained.
"Here," Wolf offered me what looked like a pair of synthetic pants - the kind you saw clam gatherers and fishermen wear. I struggled to put them on over my uniform skirt - secretly cursing Burn for not letting me go back home and change first. Wolf slid a jacket over my shoulders, and zipped it up to my throat, his fingers pausing at the top and his eyes lingering on my chin, and - wait, I had to be hallucinating. Not my lips, right? He definitely wasn't looking at those. Did I have a bit of food there? I got paranoid, and turned my face away, rubbing at them.
"Listen, it's not my fault they had chili and rice in the cafeteria today, okay?" I said.
"That wasn't -" Wolf shook his head. "Whatever. Just clip the ends of the jacket to your pants."
I did, Wolf putting his own synthetic pants and jacket on. I guess it was smart - clip your ends together so they didn't go flapping around in the wind. When Wolf was done with himself he checked my handiwork. Something about him scowling at my hips made me nervous.
"It's too loose," He kneeled, eyes level with some very sensitive parts of me. He didn't seem to notice, though. "I said 'clip', not 'casually attach'."
"Well exxxxccccuse me," I shot back, determined not to sound nervous as his fingers danced over the hemline of my pants. "But it's a little hard to get things right the first time if you don't elaborate with your damn words what you want from me."
"I want you to preferably not die," He said. "How’s that sound?"
"I could've sworn enemies were supposed to want the opposite."
"Just because we're enemies doesn't mean I'm going to stop worrying about your safety," He growled, yanking a clip tighter. "In fact, I'm going to worry about it more, since you're my one and only enemy. A prized, rare commodity. An object of great value."
"You sure know how to make a girl feel like a living, breathing person."
He smirked. "I try."
Mercifully, he stood up. He handed me a backpack that looked suspiciously like it had a parachute inside - nearly bursting at the seams. I put it on, and Wolf immediately doubled around to secure the numerous clips and buckles that hung off the front. This was no better than the hip stuff! His fingers were dangerous close to my chest, and I was the only one who apparently noticed it, or cared. Wolf's face was nothing but stone, his eyes laser focused on securing the buckles.
"There," He said. "Take a pair of goggles from the cabinet. And a helmet. And a mask, if you want."
"Mask?"
"Some people don’t like the feel of gravity and the wind blowing their face around."
"Touché." I walked over and put the goggles on. "What if a bug got in your teeth?"
"There are no bugs this high up."
"Fine - what if a bird got in your teeth?"
He rolled his eyes, securing his own backpack. Fitz squirmed as Burn finished putting his backpack on, too. We all looked very orange and very bulky.
"We look like dorks with these goggles," I giggled. "Or, I do. Wolf still manages to make them look like a hot fashion accessory for the season."
Wolf rolled his eyes again.
"If you keep rolling your eyes, they're going to fall out." I said.
"Finally," He droned. "Then I wouldn’t have to look at you, anymore."
"Rude!" I chirped, adjusting Fitz’s lopsided goggles for him. "Do you ever think what your mom might say if she was here? She'd hear you talking and go; ‘Wow, what a rude boy. I can't believe my Wolf grew up to be such a stinker’."
"She wouldn't say that," Wolf argued.
"She would," Burn agreed. "She called you stinker all the time, especially when you pooped your diapers."
Fitz and I couldn't help but burst out laughing. Wolf sighed and adjusted the straps of his backpack.
"What-"
"-ever!" I finished for him. Burn did that tiny, half-visible smirk again.
"Alright," Jakob's voice came in over the intercom. "Ya'll ready back there? Let's get this show on the road. Follow Burn's lead, okay? He knows this like the back of his hand."
Burn motioned for us to huddle together. Fitz and Wolf reluctantly put their heads in, and I followed suit.
"We're going to go down pretty fast," Burn said. "We'll be holding hands - make sure you don't let go until I say so. You can't hear anything up there, basically, so I'm going to give a thumbs up when it's time to deploy the parachutes."
"How do we deploy them?" I asked.
"The big pull-tab that's hanging off your right shoulder. You just yank it, and the parachute comes out. But you can't yank it too soon while we're together, or our lines will get tangled. So Wolf will let go first, and open his parachute when we're away. You're next, Bee. Then I'll help Fitz with his, and I'll go last. That way, if someone's parachute doesn't deploy or they mess up, I can grab them and we can go down together."
"Oh we're going down together," Fitz whispered. "Straight to hell."
"Hush," I said. "We'll be fine."
"You say that now, but when they open the doors -"
The doors to the helicopter slid open just then, and the wind nearly knocked the breath out of me. The sky was a gorgeous silken tableau of puffy white clouds and porcelain blue - the ground below us seemed so distant. You could see the shadow the clouds threw on the ground, the houses so far away they looked like tiny, colorful building blocks.
I suddenly felt like puking. Casually. Casual puking because this was really, actually happening and oh my god if it went wrong I was going to be a pancake -
"So," Burn edged to the open door. "We jump out one at a time. Wolf will go first, then Bee, then Fitz, then I. Same order as the parachutes. Wolf and I will make our way to you two, so don't worry. Just hang tight, try to enjoy yourselves. If that's even possible."
He looked at Fitz, who had gone completely white and completely silent at the sight of the open door. Wolf put himself closer to Fitz, not touching, but close enough it almost seemed like a touch.
"Remember what Mom said?" Wolf asked.
Fitz shook his head tersely, his teeth gritted and his jaw flexed with the effort of not freaking out.
"It isn't the fall that's bad," Wolf said. "It's the landing."
"That's not helping," I argued. To my utter surprise, Fitz straightened, his whole face relaxing as he closed his eyes. He stayed like that for a moment, and then opened them again.
"Okay." He said. "Let's do this."
I was so confused - Wolf's words had an effect on Fitz like no other. What exactly did that phrase mean to them? It had to be something important. Burn raised his voice again.
"Once you deploy the parachute, it'll take you about four or five minutes to land. We'll be aiming for Jakob's property - it's got a pattern cut into the grass, so it should be pretty easy to spot."
"Pattern?" I asked.
"A giant JP," Wolf said. "His initials. There’s some traffic cones around it, too."
"Wolf will be falling first, so you just follow him. You can't control the speed of the fall, but you can control the direction you fall. If you pull the same tab on your right that you pulled for the parachute, you'll angle left. If you pull the tab on the left, you'll angle right."
"Right, left," I muttered, frantically trying to get it through my head. "Left, right. Got it."
"Whatever you do, try to aim for open ground. Don't land on any trees. By the time your feet touch ground, you'll be going slow enough to run it out. Questions?"
I shook my head. Fitz whimpered a little.
"Alright, let's go." Burn motioned to the door. Wolf took the first step towards it, and I was struck by just how confident and determined his jade eyes were, so focused on the sky. Jakob shouted through the intercom.
"First drop-off! Three, two, one - go!"
Wolf stepped off the edge, and my heart squeezed painfully. Fitz and I scrabbled to look over the edge - there he was, falling like an orange meteor through the sky. I felt Burn pat my back.
"You're next, Bee."
"Oh god," I sucked in a breath. "Oh god, oh god."
"It's okay," He said. "Just go. Wolf's down there, waiting for you."
We were so high up. Every bone in my body screamed at me not to jump, to stay in the safety of the helicopter. I could change my mind. I could not do this. This was stupid, my instincts shouted. This was dumb as hell!
But Wolf was doing it. My enemy was doing it. The guy who was scared to touch anyone was doing it like it was the easiest thing in the world -
It suddenly hit me.
"Burn," I turned to him. "We're going to hold hands, right? Wolf -"
"We usually do this alone," Burn said. "So this will be the first time we've had to hold hands."
"Will he be -"
"He'll be fine." He assured me. "If it's with you, he'll be fine."
I felt my eyebrows furrow. "What does that mean?"
"We don't got much time, if she wants to catch up to Wolf!" Jakob called out over the intercom. "Get going!"
"Okay," I did a little shimmy-shake out of sheer terror. "Okay. I can do this."
"Just walk off the edge," Burn said. "Make sure your feet are straight. You fall for a while to get away from the helicopter, and then you make your body parallel to the ground."
"Okay." I sucked in a breath so huge it hurt my lungs. "Okay!"
"Next drop-off!" Jakob announced. "In three, two, one -"
I couldn't do this on my own. No way. But I had Burn here, and Wolf, and Fitz, who was just as scared as I was. It would be fine. .0007 percent chance of dying. That's less than a car accident. I'd driven a car a million times -
"Go!" Jakob shouted.
"Shit," I hissed. "Shit shit shit -"
I took a step off, praying to God the chopper's blades wouldn't mince me up like ground beef. The wind immediately knocked the breath I'd been holding from me, the feeling of nothing below my feet making me burst out in a heatwave of panic. My whole body felt so hot, then went frigid cold as the wind fought to get inside the synthetic pants and jacket. My organs felt like they were in my throat. Every extra bit of skin on my body rippled with the force of gravity dragging me back to earth.
I put my feet straight for a few seconds. The wind naturally evened me out, my body now parallel to the ground. Wolf's form was getting closer, fast, and that’s when I realized just how fast we were going. He was slowing himself down, somehow, I think by making his body flat and big so the wind had more to resist. I was so scared I couldn't move, my teeth chattering as the chilly air battered my face. I squeezed my eyes shut, not ready to believe this was real. I was an idiot. I was a fucking idiot for doing this -
I felt the warm embrace of another hand touching my own, our fingers intertwining. I opened my eyes to see Wolf at my side, a strangely serious look on his face. He nodded, and relief flooded me knowing we were touching - this wasn't so bad. Having another person around while you fell a trillion miles a second made it not so horrific. He knew what he was doing - he'd done it a lot. I was safe, for the moment.
With Wolf's hand in mine, I looked around. A few low-hanging clouds drifted below us, and our bodies passed through just the barest wisp of a cloudy edge. I squealed - though the sound was lost in the air - as my left elbow got damp instantly. Wolf's right arm fared the same. I never knew that's what a cloud felt like - cold and wet and yet light as cotton candy. The synthetic material did a great job of wicking the wetness away, gravity doing its part, too. We were bone dry again in no time.
I felt the rough bump of another hand on mine, and looked to my side. Fitz, his eyes squeezed shut, reached blindly for me. I locked my hand in his, Burn on his other hand. Burn and Wolf didn't lock hands, leaving the air open, so we formed a sort of horseshoe in the sky. Burn smiled at me, or as best he could when the g-force was messing with his cheeks.
All that was left was the sound of the wind in our ears, rushing so loud and fast it drowned out everything else. All that was left was for me to look around. Looking down seemed like a bad idea for my nerves, so I focused instead on the view towards the horizon. The lower clouds went on forever, a beautiful, velvety blanket of them stretching on into the sun. The Cascade Mountains were hulking purple beasts, craggy and dotted with early snow. I never noticed just how big the shadow they cast was - it consumed towns, entire forests. And the forests! I knew Washington had a lot of old trees, but I hadn't realized just how many! Silky and green, the pines clumped together, sharing so many thousands of years between them. If I stretched my imagination really hard I could almost smell them. The view was, to say the least, incredible. And the feeling of it all - of being so small and insignificant - was a lot like the feeling I got when Burn and I would stand on the cliff in the mornings and watch the sun kiss the world awake. I felt...unimportant. I felt light, and airy, and free. I felt like nothing mattered - not my grades, not my college future, not my awful spying on the Blackthorns - nothing. I'd done nothing wrong up here. I had no responsibilities up here - not to Dad, not to Mom, not even to myself. For a few minutes, I felt untouchable. Nothing could get me in the sky, not even my problems.
I watched the sun as I fell. So what, I thought, if Mom and Dad divorced? Would it really be the end of the world? This was the world - this huge thing below me, reduced to nothing more than toy-like dioramas of forests and towns. There were a hundred million problems waiting for me when I landed, but when you got high enough, all those problems seemed so small and insignificant. The sun didn't care about divorce. The sky didn't care about grades. No one cared, except me and the people in the below-world.
I wasn’t a scholarshipper up here; I wasn’t a teacher’s pet, a wannabe psychologist, a girl who left her friends behind, or an attempted good-daughter. I was just…me.
I was so lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed Burn giving us all a thumbs up. Shit. It was time. This was the do-or-die thing. Do or die at .0007 percent, of course. Everything Burn said rushed through my head at once - left is right, right is left. Pull the right tab over your shoulder. Aim for the giant JP on the ground - which I could now almost see - carved into the grass. Don’t hit trees. For the love of God and your legs, don't hit the damn trees, Bee. Wolf moved to let go of my hand, since he was the first one to parachute, but something in me squeezed his hand tight, willing him to stay. Willing him to stay here with me.
He looked at me, and for once the fire in his eyes was warm. Not burning, no scalding fire – only a gentle heat, and even though we were enemies, even though we’d promised to hate each other, I couldn’t help but let that heat warm me from the inside. It made me feel like everything was going to be okay. I let go, and he pulled his hand from mine and peeled away from us. He parachuted, and our falling speed quickly left him behind. Burn pointed at me with his free hand, and I let go of Fitz's. Wolf made it look easy - the sudden loss of three other stabilizing bodies was huge. I was on my own again, in the wide cruel sky, the wind ready to toss me around. If I messed this up, I would be dead. Donezo. Gone.
Right side tab, I repeated to myself. I yanked it hard, but nothing happened. Panic gripped my throat, until I took a deep breath.
The Blackthorn's mom was right - it wasn't the falling that was hard. It was the landing.
I could do this. I had to do this.
Wolf’s warm gaze played back like an echo on my eyelids.
Everything would be okay.
I pulled again with all my might, and instantly felt the yank back as the parachute deployed. My neck protested with a lightning crack of whiplash, and the feeling of all my organs falling back into place was bizarre, yet welcome. I was just floating now, arcing slowly above the forests and houses. Was that our town below me? I could see cars moving in a steady stream, people going about their lives.
I kept breathing in and out, my eyes searching for the massive JP pattern in the grass. I saw it – carved in a distant field, the helicopter parked on it, and tugged on my left tab. My parachute tilted a little, catching the wind at a different angle and steering me towards it. I could see Wolf’s parachute as he touched down and the cloth crumpled with the lack of air. He’d made it. I’d make it, too.
I saw him waiting for me, gathering up his parachute. I pulled the left tab harder, and the ground was suddenly so much closer. Then all at once, my feet hit the ground, and I started running, the force of my momentum carrying me forward until finally the parachute deflated and my run petered out. I felt someone tugging on it and turned to see Wolf there, his googles off and his hair windblown to hell and back.
“You made it,” He said, detaching the parachute for me so I could actually move without dragging it.
“Don’t sound so happy,” I said. “It means I get to keep being a thorn in your side.”
He smirked crookedly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
It was weird – the two of us smiling at each other like some kind of idiots. But the adrenaline was pumping through me so hard and fast I couldn’t help my smile, and apparently he couldn’t either. I helped him bring the parachutes into the aircraft barn, adding them to a big pile. Suddenly the stress of it all caught up with me, and my legs felt too weak to even stand. I collapsed on the parachute pile.
“Are you alright?” Wolf asked.
“I’m fine, I’m just – overwhelmed, I guess. That was incredible.”
“But you were scared out of your mind,” He added.
“Obviously,” I exhaled.
“Was it worth the fear?”
I stared up at the rafters, then at the way the sun shafted over his face. His jade eyes turned almost translucent in the light, golden-green like the leaves of a delicate plant. The sun always made his features more handsome, infuriatingly handsome, and he basked in it as a lion does; uncaring and regal.
“Yeah,” I decided finally. “I think…I think the most important things in life, the things worth doing, are always scary. At first.”
“Like what?”
I flushed. “I dunno! Like…like competing in something. Or confessing to someone. It’s always scary, but then you do it and it turns out to be the best thing you ever did.”
“Even if you don’t win?”
“It isn’t about winning. It’s about trying. About living to the fullest, with no regrets.”
Wolf chuckled, running his fingers through his hair.
“What’s so funny?” I demanded. He didn’t answer, his laugh petering out. From the open doors of the aircraft barn, I saw Fitz land and collapse on the grass on all fours. Burn landed shortly after, helping Fitz up and undoing his parachute. Wolf watched them walk towards us, his voice soft.
“She would’ve liked you,” He said.
“Who?”
“Our mom.”
The silence between us always felt so heavy, but this one was somehow gentle.
“Thank you,” I said finally. “For letting me do this with you guys.”
Wolf offered me his hand up, and I paused. If I took it, would we really still be enemies? Enemies wouldn’t offer to help each other. Enemies wouldn’t take each other sky-diving on their dead mother’s birthday. Enemies wouldn’t laugh with each other. What exactly were Wolf and I, now? And why did what we were matter so much to me?
I took his hand, and he pulled me up with ease. I ended up standing a little too close when he pulled me up, and for a moment I couldn’t breathe, our chests nearly touching.
“Wolf, you –“
“It’s getting easier,” He murmured. “Touching people. It’s still hard to do it with anyone else, but with you –“
“Wolf!” Fitz came running towards us, a huge grin on his face. “Did you see me? I landed like in that one James Bond movie!”
Every ounce of fear was gone from Fitz, though as he drew closer I could see he was shaking. The adrenaline clearly had a giddy effect on him. He flung an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close.
“You saw me, right Bee? I handled that whole thing like the smoothest special agent in the world.”
“Like you were born doing it,” I smirked.
“So brave,” Wolf deadpanned, and Fitz pointed at him accusatorily.
“You shut up. At least I try to get over my fears, instead of wallowing in them.”
“Wolf’s trying, Fitz,” I spoke up. “In his own way. Everybody tries in different ways, at different paces, okay?”
“Well he doesn’t have to do it with a holier-than-thou attitude.”
“That’s just how he is,” I sighed. “You know that.”
“It almost sounds like Bee knows your brother better than you do, Fitz,” Burn said as he walked up.
“Oh stuff it,” Fitz rolled his eyes and tore off his synthetic pants and jacket, dumping then on the parachute pile. “I’ll be waiting in the car. Let’s get back to civilization before I forget how to use a fork.”
Burn made a faux salute as Fitz walked off. Suddenly, the screen door to the little office banged open, and Jakob came out, applauding us.
“Look at you! All in one piece!” He smiled at me. “I saw your landing from the window; you’re a natural.”
“Thanks,” I grinned. “It was terrifying at first, but then once you hit the open sky, you just sort of –“
“Forget everything that’s going on in your head?” Jakob laughed. “Yeah. That’s why I do it. That’s why I keep this place up and running, so other people can experience that feeling, too.”
“Well thank you,” I said. “For everything. It was an amazing experience.”
“Anytime. You’re welcome here anytime – you’re much politer than any of the Lost Boys.” He jerked his head at Burn and Wolf, and I laughed. We shed our synthetic clothes and headed back to the car, my arm pumping madly as I waved goodbye to Jakob. Wolf sat with me in the backseat, Fitz up front fiddling with the music stations while Burn drove. Fitz stopped on some corny country music and air-banjo’d hard at a stoplight. The older couple in their car next to us shot Fitz nasty looks, but that only made him mime playing harder. I joined in with another air banjo, and Fitz laughed as Burn hit the gas and left them in the dust.
The highway at dusk was beautiful – the pink sunlight made the road look like a massive velvet ribbon winding over the hills. Only a few cars were on the road, blinking red and white in the twilight air. There was the smell of fresh pines so green and alive I could almost taste them. It was a beautiful night. Everything looked different from the sky, but at the same time it made me grateful to see the beauty of it all from the ground, up close.
I looked over at Wolf. He had one elbow on the car door, his hand cradling his chin. The wind played with his hair, his eyes riveted to something in the far distance. He was thinking. About his mom? Maybe. About his problem? Maybe. I wanted to know what he was thinking, to ask him. I knew he wouldn’t tell me. And I hated being that person – the one who poked her nose in everyone’s business.
But I guess it was too late for that. It’s exactly who I was.
I looked down at the brown leather of the seats between us. My hand rested on one side of the middle seat, his on the other. Just a few more inches, and –
I looked up to see Wolf staring at me looking at our hands. I felt a hot wave roll over my cheeks.
“I wasn’t –“
“Just one more time?” He asked, voice soft. He turned his hand palm-up, as if waiting for mine.
“But –”
“I know. You said you’d never help me again. And that’s your right. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about –” He cut himself off and shook his head. “No. You’re right. Nevermind.”
His hand started to close, and I darted out and met his palm with mine. Wolf’s face looked shocked, completely thrown off.
“Just one last time,” I repeated, hard, like it would make it real and final. He grinned.
“One last time.”
The sun said its final goodbye and the moon said its first hello. Wolf curled his fingers, hesitantly, slowly, between mine, the two of us fitting together like the pieces of a puzzle. It was cliché. It wasn’t right for enemies to do this. There was a hundred things wrong with it, and yet it felt absolutely perfect. The heat of his skin, the feel of his fingers, the soft music Fitz decided on, the chill of the wind, his smile – this was a moment I wanted to remember for the rest of my life. Even if it was only to help him. Even if it meant nothing. Even if it was fake, a way to make him like me, a way to keep my scholarship – I could still keep this moment to myself.
All the memories I’d tried to erase about him came flooding back, and this one joined them.