At the second tap, I turn my head toward the sound. A third tap followed by a fourth and I cross the room. It’s close to midnight, it’s Friday and it’s August. Old habit and expectation cause my pulse to quicken. Two more taps, and on instinct, I open the window.
I search the dark ground but spot nothing. Maybe I’m hearing things that aren’t real. Maybe—
My head tilts as I spot the tiny visitor on my windowsill. Inching along is a fat, multicolored caterpillar and seeing him is like reaching through the fog of memory. I’ve seen him before, but where?
“Hey, Tink. It’s about time. I ran out of rocks.”
My gaze snaps to the towering oak tree next to the house. Crouched near the trunk on the thick branch reaching out toward my window is Jesse Lachlin. He’s in jeans, a white T-shirt and a blue baseball cap. A surge of panic that my father will find him floods me, but then Jesse slowly smiles—his pirate one. With that one gesture, the heaviness overwhelming my body lifts.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper.
Perched precariously on the branch, he shifts his footing and my heart slams past my chest. He shouldn’t move. If he moves, he’ll fall and then he’ll die and that will be bad. “Don’t move!”
His impish grin widens. “Why?”
“You’ll fall.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Yes, you will.”
“Come on, where’s the faith? We’ve climbed higher in weaker trees than this.”
Yes, we did, but . . . “We were also seven, fifty pounds and more flexible.”
He chuckles. “Speak for yourself. I’m still flexible.”
I don’t know why, but I smile. “You were never flexible. You had the climbing grace of a rock. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be kissing the ground.”
“Then come out here and show me how it’s done.”
My grin falters. I’m not seven. I’m seventeen. I’m longer, heavier and I haven’t climbed a tree since the summer before our freshman year. My last summer being friends with Jesse. “Why are you here?”
Jesse places his hand on a neighboring branch. “As I said earlier, we’re friends.”
“And I told you we aren’t friends.”
“I need a friend right now and something tells me you need one, too.”
“You have friends,” I say slowly.
“Yeah, but they aren’t here, and if they were I’d send them home. You’re the friend I need. Come on. Climb some trees with me.”
I want to, but I don’t know how.
“Just give me tonight, Tink.” The hopeful plea in his voice is nearly my undoing. “If you decide after this we can’t be friends, then I’ll accept your decision. No anger between us, just two people who were once friends.”
The caterpillar crawls in Jesse’s direction. A memory flashes in my mind of sunshine and my chubby fingers holding a caterpillar just like him. An elusive sixth sense consumes me; this is important, somehow, but I don’t know why. “My father will hear if I go down the stairs.”
“Then leave the way you did in the past—go out the window.”
“I’ll fall.”
“No, you won’t.”
Causing the blood to drain to my toes, Jesse edges away from the fleeting safety of the trunk and holds out his hand. The impish grin returns and in his green eyes is the spark I always adored.
The branch curves a foot from my window. It’s a hardy branch, and I’ve shimmied myself out this window hundreds of times in my life. Each time without thought. Each time with confidence. My mouth dries out and a tremor of fear runs through me. “I’ll fall.”
“Not gonna happen. Give me your hand, and I’ll help you reach the ground safely.”
That sounds good, but . . . “I don’t trust you.”
“I deserve that.” Sadness rolls over his face. “And you have a right to not trust me. But c’mon, Tink, somewhere deep inside you have to know I’d never let you fall.”
My hands go cold and clammy, and I rub them against the dress pants I wore to work. I look down and realize that this is not a tree-climbing outfit. “Give me a sec?”
“And put on some decent shoes, Tink. I’m starting to think you don’t own anything sensible.”
I keep my window open but close the curtains and hurry through my room. I trip over my feet as I yank off my pants, throw off my shirt and trade them for jeans, a sports bra and a tank top. I toss my hair into a messy bun then have to rummage longer in my closet than I should for a pair of tennis shoes. Back on my bed, it’s hard to tie them as my hands are unsteady.
I’m sneaking out. I’m climbing down the tree. I’m going to hang out with Jesse Lachlin. I lift my head and pause. What am I doing? This is stupid and reckless, and if Dad finds out he’ll be furious, but he’s always furious. Am I to be Mom and to spend my life being nothing more than a pawn to calm Dad down when he throws a fit? I rise to my feet.
No. That’s not who I’m going to be. I open the curtains and accept Jesse’s outstretched hand.
The moment my fingers lay in his, Jesse doesn’t wrap his hand around mine like I expect. Instead, he slides his fingers along my skin and then grips my forearm. “Take my arm.”
I do. His skin is hot under my touch, and his pulse beats under my fingertips. Jesse’s grip on me is firm, steady, and I exhale slowly to try to calm my racing heart.
“You’ve done this a million times,” he says. “You can do it again. Place your other hand on the windowsill for support, pull yourself up onto the frame and then put one foot on the branch followed by another. I swear, you did this with your eyes closed all through third grade to freak me out.”
I did, but somehow I was braver when I was younger. I shake out my other hand to try to stop the nervous tingles.
“Don’t overthink this,” he says. “Just do it.”
I shouldn’t do this. I should let go of Jesse, shut my window and go to bed, but I need to do this. Not for Jesse, but for me. I’m in control of my life. Not my father. I can leave whenever I want, and I’m choosing to leave now.
A hand on the windowsill, one foot on the frame and I dig my nails into Jesse’s skin. I let go of the window and make the massive step from my house to the tree, landing in a crouching position in front of him.
My vision narrows at the enormous distance between me and the ground. I’m going to fall. Panic sets in, nausea turns my stomach and my hand flails in a balance check. An arm snakes around my waist, and I’m tugged into solid warmth. My breath rushes out of my body, and when I glance up, serious green eyes stare into mine. “I got you.”
Jesse’s grip rivals steel bands. Settled on a narrow limb, I’ve never felt more secure. A tornado could blow through this tree, through this town, and could destroy everything in its path, but Jesse and I would still be crouched here together. His strength keeping us in place.
“You good?” he asks.
No, not really, but I keep my doubts quiet. I scan the branches, and it’s like looking at a treasure map I once had memorized. A few years have passed, the tree is older, but the layout is overall the same. “I’m good.”
“You sure?”
Nope. “Yeah.”
“Are you sure?” he asks again.
“Don’t make me put you in a choke hold and force you tap out.”
Jesse gives me a crooked grin, releases me and shifts back toward the trunk then onto a parallel branch. Using my fingers to feel along the thinner branches above me for support, I inch toward the trunk. A quick survey of the tree finds the finger and footholds I used as a child.
I’m rusty, I’m slow, but I make it down the two stories without breaking my neck. I have to jump the last part, and the solid ground is a gift. Seconds later, Jesse lands beside me. The moment his feet hit the ground, an electrical shock runs through me. Resonating from the ground and shooting up through me from my toes.
Jesse jerks and his green eyes widen as if he felt the same thing. “You okay?”
My entire body tingles with the aftermath of the energy spike. “Yes. Are you?”
“Yeah.” Jesse slips off his cap then rakes a hand through his hair as if waking himself from a dream. “Let’s do this.”
“Where exactly are we going?”
“Same place as always.”
I’m dumbfounded as he walks toward his land. “And where is that?”
“Second star on the right then straight on till morning.”
Second star on the right. I haven’t been Tink to his Peter Pan for a long time. But watching Jesse head off to the land the two of us conquered in battles that belonged in our heads creates a sense of nostalgia I can’t ignore. I start for the land that calls to Jesse, the land that used to call to me. It’s definitely time for an adventure.