After the awkward exchange in Bugle’s, we’re now sitting in Henry’s car eating our ice cream. With almost every other spoonful he looks up at me. I try not to make noise. I’ve been known to make these kinds of happy noises when I get lost in the way something tastes, like a constant humming-moaning sound. Henry may have even been the one who pointed that out to me.
“No good?” he asks.
“No, it’s great. Why?”
“Can’t be that great—you’re too quiet. Want to taste mine?”
“Yeah.” I take my spoon out, but before I know it he’s moving his spoon toward my mouth.
“Here.” He feeds it to me and then waits for me to finish it. “Good, right? They are the best here. I’ll miss this place.” He takes his spoon back and continues to eat. “Why didn’t you tell me about Gaige?”
“Well, I didn’t think . . . forgot, I guess. I mean, I went to camp with a lot of people, not just him. So . . .” Okay, rein it in, Evan. “Are you going somewhere?”
“What?”
“You said you’ll miss this place.”
“No, just one day. We talked about this . . . one day we’d get out.”
I don’t like the idea of Henry leaving without me. But that’s not why I get quiet. I’m quiet because I’m trying to process what’s going on between us right now and what was that spoon thing? Spooning? We’re spooning now?
Henry says, “You’re not going to offer me any?”
We share food all the time. But we’ve never shared food like this. Do I have to do that spoon move now? What is this move? I feel like it’s all too much for me.
He’s waiting. So I put my spoon in the sundae and make sure to get a scoop with ice cream, hot fudge, whipped cream, and nuts. It’s a skill to get that perfect spoonful.
I lift it and start to bring it up to Henry’s mouth. Fuuuuuuck, why did I wear so many damn shirts! I’m sweating so badly again and now my hand is practically shaking.
Henry leans in and takes the spoonful into his mouth. He never breaks eye contact.
“Mmmmmm, that was the perfect ratio.”
He reaches under his seat to pull out a plastic grocery bag. He puts his empty ice cream cup in it. I quickly finish and toss mine in as well.
“He remembered you.”
“Who?”
“Gaige. All the way from Cali.”
“He’s checking out colleges here.”
“His family is like yours?”
“Well, they’re not Greek.” I laugh nervously as I search my brain for something else to talk about. “Why did you keep needling Tess so much back there?”
“Ugh. I don’t know. It was a dick move, right? Something about the way she was talking about shit. It really bothered me. I don’t know.”
He finally starts up the car and begins driving. “Where to, Ev?”
I think about how the monastery would be good right now. I’ve wanted to tell him about it for a long time but never had the nerve.
“Ev?”
“I’m thinking.”
“If you don’t come up with a place I’m just going to keep driving till we get to California.”
“Would that be so bad?” I laugh nervously, but kind of mean it.
Henry gets silent for a split second, then says, “No. It wouldn’t be bad at all.” Then he’s quiet for what seems a really long, uncomfortable time.
“Hey! I’m just driving here. Waiting.”
“I got it.” I take a breath and say, “Have you ever been to the old monastery? It’s on your side of town.”
“I’ve been by it. It’s abandoned, right?”
“They store large farm equipment in part of it, but there’s a whole other section that’s just like they probably left it. It’s like a museum. There’s a room with nothing but statues. Like a party of statues.”
“How do you know this?”
I think for a minute and wonder if I should tell the truth. Is it time to tell someone, to tell Henry—everything about me?
“Because I broke in. It was unlocked, but—”
“And you never told me? I live just blocks away and you didn’t ever think to say, Hey, man, how about you come with me to this cool place . . . By. Your. House! Wow. So many secrets.” I can’t tell if he’s teasing or not.
I can feel my nervous energy. The bottom of my feet tingle and my toes start to go numb. I’ve thought about telling him all the time. Telling him everything, not just about the monastery but about what happens at home, about what I’m feeling, what I’m feeling about him.
“Even after all these years, Ev, I still don’t feel like I know you sometimes. And I tell you everything. I told you about the stuff with Amanda when that shit show was going on, and yet I’m always left wondering with you. Like Tess. Now Gaige.” We’re both quiet for a bit before he starts again. “Do you know that in all the time we’ve been friends I’ve never been inside your house? Not once. And oh yeah, by the way, my mom has invited you over for dinner tomorrow. I think meat loaf and something.”
“You don’t tell me everything. You couldn’t possibly.” His driving has sped up. “Slow down, maybe.”
“Tell me something I don’t know right now and I’ll tell you something.”
I try to laugh it off. “See, you don’t tell me everything or you wouldn’t have anything to share.” And then I look around. “Where are we going?”
“The old monastery. I want to see this statue party.”
Toes completely numb now. Once we go inside, I’ll have one less secret from him. And then, what could happen next? Fuck. I try to wiggle my toes to get the feeling back.
Aside from the light cast from the Subaru, it’s pitch-dark out there. We’re driving in the middle of farm country and it’s quiet and flat for miles.
“Well, I’m waiting.” He’s clearly not going to let this go.
“So, I’m starting?”
“Stop stalling, Ev.”
I’m thinking hard. What can I tell him that isn’t so . . . humiliating? Revealing? When he gets tired of waiting for me to find something to say, he blurts out, “I’m not going to college. At least not for a year.” He’s looking straight ahead at the road.
“Wait, what? How is this just coming out now? When did you decide this?” I’m genuinely stunned. “What about the scholarship? Do your parents know that—”
Henry jumps in, “Look. My mom and dad both know. They’re not thrilled, but they’ve agreed to it. The scholarship is . . . it’s not my thing. Everybody else seems more excited about it than I am. It’s starting to feel like tennis is my job now. I love playing. We have so much fun when we play, right? I don’t ever want to not love it.”
“Sorry.” It feels like I should say more but I don’t know what.
Henry nods.
We come to a clearing and I see the roof of the monastery pop into view. He pulls into the long, bumpy gravel driveway and it becomes clear that his car needs new shocks.
“Is there anywhere to park up there?”
“I don’t think so. I ride my bike here after hours, and there’s a gate that’s locked. We can climb it, but we can’t drive onto the grounds.”
“Why have I never seen this side of you? I’m just going to park over here and we can walk the rest of the way.”
He pulls off to the far right side of the drive. He parks half on the gravel road and half on a grassy downward slope. I may just fall out when I open my door.
“What side?”
“This living-on-the-edge, breaking-into-an-abandoned-building side. It’s probably best if you get out through my door.” He climbs out and extends one of his arms to me. This is ridiculous.
“I got it, Henry.” I grab onto the steering wheel to give myself some leverage, slide out part sideways, and wind up folding into myself. I fall onto the gravel and hit the parts of my body that aren’t already badly bruised. The pain is mild compared to the embarrassment I feel right now.
“Are you okay?”
I leap up as fast as I can and start brushing off gravel dust. “Totally fine. Let’s get up there. Can’t wait for you to see this place.” I lead the way.
Henry tries to seem stern as he says, “Do not for a second think that I’ve forgotten you owe me something I don’t know about you!”
“And don’t think that we’re done talking about you not going to college.” I’m running toward the gate. I can hear Henry’s shoes on the gravel—he’s running behind me. He catches up and we’re now side by side. He grins as his longer legs take full stride and he’s passed me. Even though he’s only about three inches taller than me, in moments like these it might as well be a foot. He leaps and touches the gate before me.
“Ta-da!” He throws his head back and closes his eyes toward the pitch-black sky. His hair, which is usually flopping onto his forehead, is all swept back. I steal a look for a brief second. Here stands the guy who has never judged anything I’ve said or done, even though I don’t tell him anything. Yet there’s a part of me that feels he may already know stuff I’m not telling him. And he still doesn’t judge.
“Let’s climb this sucker.” He’s starting up the fence. “I’ll go first and can help pull you to the top.”
“Henry, I’ve been here hundreds of times and have climbed this fence without incident.” I grab onto two wrought-iron bars with both hands. Extra firmly. I don’t want a repeat of the car exit. “I don’t need help doing something I know how to do.”
He’s halfway up. “You’re telling me that you’ve never poked yourself with these sharp things on the top?” He’s now starting to pull himself over.
“They’re called forged spear points, and I have never been poked or hurt in any manner by this fence at all.”
“You’re such a dork. Of course you know what they’re called.”
I am at the top and I can feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. I’ve flipped myself around and my back is now facing Henry. I steady myself on the cross bar just below the spears. Henry is on the ground and I can feel him looking up at me. I may have lied about not being injured on this gate before. But I will not be injured by this thing tonight. I hold on tight and let go of the bars, pushing off the cross bar with my feet and landing on the ground below in a crouched ball, right next to Henry.
“Dude, you didn’t even look to see if I was there. You could have landed right on me.”
“But I didn’t. We have to go around back. Follow me.”
“I could practically walk here from my house. Why haven’t I explored this place? Even more annoying . . . why didn’t you tell me about it again?”
“Shh, Kimball. We’re done with that story.”
I lead us past the front entrance, which looks like a cross between Wayne Manor and a church. We round one side of the building and I guide us with a sharp right in order to go past the hedge wall. Henry’s walking beside me like everything is perfectly normal. “It’s hard to believe that they store old farm equipment in here. This place looks like it should have something a little cooler going on. How did you discover it?”
My phone vibrates again. I take it out and look down at the screen, trying to move in front of Henry so he doesn’t notice. “Told you, one of my bike rides.” It’s my mother. I turn the phone off and stick it back into my pocket.
“Let’s take this path to the building and then we can wind toward the back, where the tall windows are.” I motion down a trail that goes past a large fountain to the east side of the monastery.
In the back there are two very large sets of windows on either side of an even larger set of double doors, in the center of the wall. I point to the last set of windows. As we get closer to that part of the building, we’re farther away from the already sparse lighting on the property. Henry takes out his phone and turns on the flashlight function.
“Scared?” he says as he shines the light right into my eyes.
I squint and push his hand away. “Idiot. Point it down at the window.”
Henry laughs and points his phone toward the window, and the light shines right inside the room. Once he sees them, he almost jumps back.
“Shit!”
“I told you. There’s got to be at least fifty of them.”
It almost looks like some of the statues have been moved. I’ve never seen them this close to the actual window before. The two closest to us are almost touching the glass. Henry jiggles the handle.
“Do the windows open in or out?” He’s still jiggling.
“Out. Is it locked?” I grab the handle on the other side. Locked. “Hmmm. Strange. They’ve never been locked.”
“Maybe the party got out of control.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to try the other doors.”
“Wait for me. It’s dark—let me shine the light where you’re going. . . .”
I jiggle the handle. Open.
“Any luck?” he says from his side.
“It’s open.”
“Maybe they’re on to you. Maybe we’ll have company.”
I turn around and grab his phone.
“Hey. . . .”
“I turned mine off. This is easier. I know where I’m going.”
This room is not part of the statue room. It’s a different room altogether, floor to ceiling, wall to wall of wooden dark-stained, built-in bookcases stuffed with books in every possible direction, a very tall intricate coffered ceiling, and what looks like stone floors. There’s a very large old and dusty area rug, and a long wooden carved desk on one side that almost looks like it could have been an altar at one time. There’s this gold-leaf finish on it that’s very faded and worn off. The high-back desk chair is carved from the same material as the desk, and it has a deep-red velvet back and seat cushions, also faded.
“I feel like I need a library now. I didn’t realize that I was missing one,” Henry says in his normal, nonwhispering voice.
“You’re killing me here.” I’m still whispering. “Let’s try to lay low.”
“No one’s here.”
“If someone locked those windows, then someone was, or is, here.” I move toward the door, “Maybe this leads to the other room.”
“Here.” Henry grabs his phone away from me. He opens the door and shines the light into what looks like a hallway. “This has to be the door to the statue party. It’s the room right next to the library.” He jiggles the door handle but it doesn’t move. He keeps trying. Nothing.
“Pull on them,” I say.
He sticks the phone in his mouth, grabs both handles, one hand on each, and pulls. The doors open. He takes the phone and shines the light into the room.
“Success! Let’s go.” He closes the doors and we stand there as he shines the light slowly around us. This room is much larger than the office/library one, but it feels smaller. Partly because of all the statues, but also because the ceiling in here is lower. His phone light makes all the dust particles flicker. The walls are all paneled, and on the left wall, from where you enter, there’s an all-stone fireplace. The floor is a tiled, ornamental pattern that’s very faded in spots. But where it’s still intact, it has three borders that go all the way around. All three have some sort of braiding. Each row of braiding is a little different.
“I love this place.” Henry looks right at me. “Let’s live here.”
I’m glad he can’t see me blushing furiously in the dark.
He has no idea what he’s saying or how it’s affecting me. Confusing me. At a time when I don’t have the luxury of confronting any of it.
Instead I go into tour guide mode. “Let me show you around.” I motion to him for his phone. Holding on to it, I start to move among the statues. The phone casts a light on them that makes the stone look even more eerie. Depending on the projection and angle of the glow, the faces can look graceful or menacing. The light between the statues makes the air seem as if it’s shimmering.
“This one with the outstretched arms is leading the way.”
I light up the statue so that Henry can see him, especially the face. The eyes don’t look like they are staring blankly. They actually look alive, and if you move slowly, you can imagine them following you. I move toward the front and shine the light on three female statues close together. “These ladies with their books and goblets are holding my future. Now as you can see”—I slowly spin the light all around the room—“there are a lot of guys who seem to be in various positions of battle. These guys I call the Army.”
I cast the light toward Henry. He looks around and then looks right at me. He’s an arm’s length away. “Why the Army? Why not . . . the Town?”
I hesitate for a minute and then, before I can stop myself, I answer, “They’re fighting for my life.”
He doesn’t look away. Usually, this long a gaze—a direct eye-to-eye gaze with anyone—makes me incredibly nervous. I normally can’t hold it for more than a second or two. In this moment, this heart-stopping, palm-sweating moment, I force myself to keep my gaze steady.
“I think this qualifies as the something I don’t know about you.” Continuing his eye lock. “What do you do here?”
“Sometimes nothing. Other times I draw. Sometimes pretend that everything is normal. Just a single normal day when nothing goes wrong.”
I wonder if his eyelashes get stuck together when he blinks. There are so many of them. Upper and lower. He’s not blinking. He sits down right there in the middle of the room. I follow his lead and sit opposite him. He crosses his legs, leans in, and rests his elbows on his knees. I’m in a similar position, except my hands are behind me, palms to the ground. I’m leaning back.
“Why aren’t you fighting for your life?” Now he’s whispering.
I don’t say anything. I look around the room for a minute, then back at Henry. He reaches into his back pocket. He takes out a crumpled piece of paper and hands it to me.
“Here. I feel like I owe you something else.”
I take it from him and unfold it.
“Our list of places we promised we’d go to.”
I look at it and then back at him. The flashlight function on his phone is casting shadows on his face in a way that, with his high cheekbones, makes him look like he belongs with the statue party. My hands start to shake, just a bit. Not noticeably but enough to make the paper move. I grip it tighter.
“I remember.” I try to steady my voice. “I remember when we started this list.”
“I carry it with me almost all the time. Ev, remember when we first wrote these down?”
“We were kids. What, seven?”
“Eight. We hadn’t known each other that well at the time, but you spent the weekend at our house. You slept on the floor in my bedroom in a sleeping bag.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It took a lot of convincing. Your mom was not thrilled.”
“It helped that she was witnessing to your parents. She thought she’d convert them. I think I may have been used as a Trojan horse.”
“It was the very first weekend without Dillon. That dog meant more to me than anything. I’ve never cried like that since. I was so embarrassed—and in front of . . .” He stops talking and stares at the floor. He runs his fingers over the tree patterns. “You got up and climbed into bed with me and held me till I fell asleep.”
He looks at me. I don’t say anything.
“Ev, you did that all weekend every time I couldn’t stop crying—when I saw his bowl, or his leash. You said that what we needed was to go someplace new. A new start, even if it was for a day.”
He starts to laugh a little.
“Like the underwater petting zoo and submerged airplane in Mermet Springs.” We both laugh. “What the fuck was that?”
“I don’t know.” I’m looking right at him and feel closer to a human being than I ever have before.
“This list, even if we never went to anywhere, made me feel better. You made me feel better.”
It’s my turn to look at the floor.
“Ev, how do you get your bruises?”
Shit.
I try to remember to breathe. I’m grateful it’s mostly dark in here.
He scoots closer to me. “You have never tripped or fallen once when we play tennis, or when you ride your bike.”
“I’m prone . . .”
“It always happens when you’re at home.”
I’m staring at the statues and I shift my body slightly away from Henry. He takes the waistband of my sweatshirt in his hand and pulls me in a bit. I put my head down, still turning away. He nudges himself even closer and starts to slowly lift the shirt over my head. I feel paralyzed, scared, thrilled. I stop him.
“Henry. Please.”
How is it possible to be cold and be sweating at the same time? He’s close enough that I can smell the mint chip ice cream on his breath. Henry whispers, “Ev, I want to be the one who helps you feel better.”
Using whatever willpower I can grab onto, I pull away and say, “No. This isn’t what you want. What I want.” The truth is, it’s exactly what I want but I’m so scared of wanting it and even more scared of actually having it.
Henry immediately lets go of my sweatshirt. And the moment is over.