SEVEN
IHAD A ROUGH night. Between being verbally attacked by a total stranger and physically attacked by a cougar, I’d need a skin of granite not to let it affect me.
I dreamed about the old woman and the cougar, and those were definitely nightmares. But I also dreamed of what I’d felt when that cat looked me in the eye. What I’d smelled and felt and seen.
I dreamed of what had happened in the shed with the marten. My blackout. No, not a blackout. A vision of what had happened to the animal.
I’d talk to Mom about it later. I always went to her with things like that, because she wouldn’t go all Native mystical on me and talk about vision quests and whatever. Not that Dad or Daniel would do that—they’d been around us long enough to know better. But still, well, I’d just be more comfortable talking to Mom about it.
It’s like my love of nature. Some people say it’s because I’m Native, and I know they’re not trying to stereotype me, though sometimes I really wish I was into model airplanes instead. I love animals and yes, I’m Native, but as my teachers would say, correlation doesn’t imply causation. I have a park ranger for a father and an environmental architect for a mother. They met at a rain forest conservation rally and have raised me out in the woods. It’d be bizarre if I didn’t turn out the way I did.
But what had really happened tonight? With the cougar, it was obviously adrenaline with a chaser of shock, and maybe a little post-traumatic stress thrown in for good measure. One best friend had died in front of me last year. Another almost did tonight.
I could rationalize it while I was awake, but once I fell asleep, I was running again, ground and wind whooshing past. I smelled the musk of animals, the tang of the earth, and blood. I smelled blood and it made me run all the faster, heart speeding up not with fear but something else, something that gripped my belly like … like hunger.
I bolted upright. Sweat poured down my face, and I gasped for breath as my heart pounded. My legs ached like I really had been running.
I pushed off the covers, got out of bed, and went to the window. I stood there in the moonlight, hands pressed against the cool glass as I scanned the forest, looking for … I don’t know what I was looking for, only that I was looking and I was aching and I wanted something. Wanted it so bad.
The window was open a crack, and I could smell the rich, loamy night, just like in my dream. I bent to open it farther, then crouched there, my heart galloping. I let the cool air and the scents wash over me and, gradually, my heartbeat slowed and the sweat dried and I was left standing there, confused and shivering, until I went back to bed, pulled up the covers, and fell asleep.
“You could have stayed with my mom today,” I said as Daniel navigated the potholes and ruts. “You’ve got to be hurting.”
“Nope. Don’t feel a thing.”
“Tough guy,” I said.
“No, well-medicated guy. You really think I’d let you go to school without me? I’d show up tomorrow and hear that I got pinned running from a cougar, only to be saved by you rushing in and staring him down.”
“Um, yeah, that’s pretty much how I remember it.”
“Exactly why I’m going. To get my version out first.”
I laughed. “Not a chance. But I will include the part about you throwing me to safety. The girls will love that. Especially Nicole.”
Daniel gripped the steering wheel, his gaze straight ahead.
“So it’s still a no, then?” I said. “Look, if you aren’t interested, I’ll stop teasing you, but you did say she’s cute …”
“Yeah.”
“And it’s been over a year.” Not just a year since Serena’s death, but a year since he’d gone on a date. That was starting to worry me. “All I’m saying—again—is ask her if she’s going to my party. Yes, obviously she is, and obviously, as the host, you’re not asking her for a date, but it would just … open the possibility, you know. Let her know you might be interested, and see how things go. No pressure.”
“We’ll see.”
We pulled in the parking lot to see Corey talking to a girl who looked, from the back, like Sam. As we drove closer, though, I could see her dark hair was sleek, not spiked, and her clothes had colors, which meant they’d never be found in Sam’s wardrobe. Then I caught a glimpse of her face and realized it was our elusive tree-climbing hiker.
Corey waved us over. He said something to the woman and she turned, smiling. That smile evaporated when she saw us. Her gaze darted about, like she wanted to make another escape. She settled for pasting on a big, phony smile.
“Hey, guys,” she said. Then, to me, “Does your dad still want that report, because I was super-busy yesterday. I can try to squeeze it in today.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “He’s got other problems right now.”
“Another cougar,” Daniel said to Corey. “I saved her.”
“A mountain lion?” the woman cut in. “What happened?”
“This is Mina Lee,” Corey said. “She’s a reporter doing a story on Salmon Creek.”
“Cool,” I said. “What paper?”
“It’s an American one,” she said, as if kids from hick-town Canada wouldn’t recognize the name. “We’re doing a series on unusual small towns, and this one certainly qualifies. I’m particularly interested in getting the point of view of young people like you. Your opinion of this place must be a lot different from your parents’.”
When we didn’t react, she leaned forward, conspiratorial. “It can’t be easy living out here. Two hundred people …” She shook her head. “It must be so isolating.”
“It is.” Corey turned to Daniel. “If there were more kids here, I wouldn’t need to hang out with you. And we wouldn’t need to hang out with girls. Even if they are hot girls, and, well, being such a small town, there’s not a lot of competition for dates, so they’re stuck with us and—” He looked at Mina. “I like isolated.”
Mina studied us, trying to figure out if we were making fun of her. Honestly, unless it was a rainy Saturday night and no one had wheels to drive into the city, we didn’t mind living here. I could tell that wasn’t what she wanted, though, so I played along.
“It can be a bit much,” I said. “No Starbucks. No clubs. No Aéropostale. Hell, we have to drive an hour just to hang out at the mall. Epic inconvenience.”
The guys struggled to keep straight faces as they nodded.
“And then there’s the”—I lowered my voice—“medical research.”
Her eyes glinted. Bull’s-eye.
“How do you feel about that?” she said. “Living with such secrecy and under such intense security. I mean, they built an entire town to hide their work.”
“I worry that they’re hurting bunnies,” I said.
“We aren’t supposed to talk about the medical stuff.” Daniel looked around, mock-anxious. “We get in a lot of trouble for that.”
Mina nodded. “I understand. But I’d love to chat. Privately.”
She set a time and place for us to meet her after school, then handed me her card and told us to bring along any other kids who wanted to talk.