“Rachel, sweetie, it’s past your bedtime.”

My mother is hovering behind me while I sit on the couch, the TV on at low volume.

“I’ll go to bed in a minute,” I tell her, my eyes glued to Conan O’ Brien on the screen. I love Conan, but I’m not really watching him, not paying attention. It only looks that way.

“Rachel,” my mother warns, pressing her hands on the back of the couch. For a moment I imagine her hands coming down and strangling me. Sometimes I wonder if that’s what both my parents want to do with me. My mother, because she’s afraid of me, my father for the same reasons but different causes. Very different.

“In a minute,” I tell her, and I know how I sound. Bratty. Like a teenager. And I am a teenager now. I passed twelve a few months back.

For so long I wanted to be older. But now I realize what being older brings. What being older means.

It’s shameful.

I am so ashamed.

I’m tense, bracing for the argument to follow. That’s all we do now, my mother and me. We yell and argue and it goes back and forth until she has to drag my father into it.

And then I shut up, because that’s what I know how to do. That’s how I am to grow. In the corner, a hidden weed. I can’t take up too much space, I can’t be known. I can only slink back and be quiet and let them forget I exist.

Only he doesn’t forget. I wish he did. More than anything I truly wish I didn’t exist to him.

But my mother sighs. She’s tired. She leaves me and goes out on the porch to light a cigarette, waiting for my father to get home. I don’t know why she does that, why she doesn’t go to sleep until he gets home. She can’t fear him too. She loves him too much. Or maybe I don’t know the difference. Maybe I’m too young to know and too old to ignore it.

I don’t feel like arguing today. There’s too much I should be thinking about. My homework that I didn’t do, that’s due tomorrow. The fact that Angela Chase is having a birthday party this weekend and I wasn’t invited (and really why should I be—I barely talk to her, I barely talk to anyone). I’m looking forward to seeing Shane tomorrow in first period.

The thought of him is really the only reason I can smile these days. At first, I thought it was silly but I’m starting to understand that Shane isn’t just my friend anymore. He’s more than that. I don’t think he knows it, but it’s true.

But I could never have the nerve to tell him. That’s not what girls are supposed to do anyway. They’re supposed to wait for the guy to tell them.

I sigh, feeling my heart do this fluttering thing, like I’ve got hummingbirds in my chest. It’s so freaking weird how I can alternate between feeling so alive and wishing I was dead at the same time.

I go to my bedroom and close the door. I don’t know why I bother, but I do because maybe today it will stay closed.

I get dressed even though I know there’s no point, but it’s all I have. I put on my pajama pants, my tank top, a flannel shirt, and I crawl under the covers.

I pull them almost up over my head and I face the wall.

The lights are all off.

I try to sleep.

I breathe in and breathe out.

I pray to dream, to be taken away.

But time speeds up, maybe hours pass, and then the door creaks open.

I don’t have to open my eyes to know a narrow path of light is shining at my back.

He comes in the room. Shuts the door behind him.

I pretend to sleep.

I shrink in my mind, invisible.

I am not here.

I never will be here.

I cease to exist.

* * *

“Are you still coming over?” Shane asks me, hooking his thumbs under his backpack as we leave Mrs. Robson’s class. School is done for the day.

“Of course I am,” I tell him, giving him a smile.

He watches me carefully. He’s always watching me. I don’t mind. It makes me feel good to know I’m interesting to him, that I’m something he thinks about, cares about. Sometimes that feeling, the one in my chest, the one I get from looking deep into his eyes, erases all the bad stuff in my life. It makes me forget.

Sometimes, in the morning, when all I feel is shame and disgust, when I look at myself in the mirror and hate everything I see, I remember that Shane likes who I am, likes what he sees when he looks at me. And if he can feel that way about me, I can’t be that bad.

“You’ve just been quiet lately,” he says as we walk outside to his school bus. We live on opposite sides of town so when I’m not on my school bus, I’m on his. My mother works as a librarian so she’s always working after school, and my dad, well, I’m glad he’s usually working too. The funny thing is, neither of them care where I am. I guess because I’m always with Shane and they trust him and the Nelsons. They always know where to find me.

“I don’t know,” I tell him. “I’m just…” How do I even explain to him what’s been going on? I couldn’t. I can’t. “I guess I’m not sleeping well. It’s fine. So, what do you want to do today?”

He stares at me for a few moments as if he doesn’t believe me or something. But as we get on the bus, he lets it go.

“We could go for a ride,” he says.

“It looks like it might storm.” I glance out the window at the dark clouds moving in from the west.

“You love storms.”

“So do you.”

“Okay, well maybe we can borrow some dusters in case it rains.”

“I don’t care about the rain,” I tell him. Honestly, I don’t care about much except for him. We can do whatever, muck the stalls, collect chicken poop for Jeanine’s compost, paint the barn—as long as I’m with him, it doesn’t matter. We’ll have fun.

“Okay, we’ll go for a ride then. Maybe check out that old barn, the spooky one by the pond.”

I shiver. That barn is like a hundred years old and I think Shane’s dad said it used to be a shelter during the gold rush days. I think it’s haunted.

“Maybe,” Shane says with a cheeky smile, “we can have a sleepover there one night. Do you dare?”

I let out a nervous laugh at the thought of sleeping next to him. Of course, that could never happen. My parents would never allow it. Our hours together after school and on the weekends are all I’ll ever get.

I love being around Shane. I love being around his brothers, his grandpa, even his grumpy father. I love the horses, the ranch, the wide open spaces. It’s across town but it feels like it’s a world away. The river separates my life at home from a life with Shane and when we cross over it, all my troubles melt away.

The bus drops us off at the foot of the long, dusty drive, and though it’s early June, it’s already super hot and we’re both sweaty and gross by the time we get to the house.

Jeanine opens the front door, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

“Are you guys hungry?” she asks us. “I can whip up some snacks.”

Shane looks to me in question.

“I’m fine,” I tell her. Jeanine is always trying to get me to eat, says I’m just skin and bones.

“We’re going for a ride,” Shane tells her as we toss our backpacks onto the porch, our heavy books thudding against the floorboards, nearly knocking over the stack of cowboy and rubber boots lined up against the wall.

Jeanine purses her lips at the sight. “Okay, but be careful. It might storm later. And be back in two hours.”

“Yes, ma’am,” we tell her in unison before turning around and running down to the stable.

The stables are my favorite place to be in the whole world. I wish I could bottle the scent of manure and hay and wood and smell it every time I was feeling down. Shane kind of smells the same way, but combined with fresh air and sunshine. I would never tell him that I like the way he smells—he’d probably think that’s weird or creepy, but it’s true.

The stalls are empty because it’s summer and the horses are out to pasture, so we grab their halters off the hooks and run out into the field. I usually ride Teddy, a short and stocky quarter horse that’s this funky red roan color, like he’s been dipped in rust and sprinkled with icing sugar, while Shane has this gorgeous Arabian called Moonshine. He’s completely black except for a star at his nose and looks exactly like the horse in that old movie The Black Stallion.

Sometimes getting the horses is easy. Today it’s hard. They’re keeping their distance and acting all spazzy.

“Maybe it’s the weather,” Shane says as he tries to approach Moonshine before the horse starts trotting in the opposite direction. “I heard horses can sense all kinds of shit.”

Luckily it doesn’t take me long before I round up Teddy. He’s old and what Hank would call “bomb proof.” Then Shane eventually corners Moonshine, talking to the horse in calm, easy tones like he’s some kind of horse whisperer. But it works and I’m impressed. Is there anything he can’t do?

It’s not long before we’ve got them saddled up and are heading out to the right of Cherry Peak, riding down along the river for a bit before we take them up through a forest that skirts along the side of a ridge.

We don’t normally go this way because the ground is all rocky, and there’s not a lot of open space to gallop and really let the horses fly, but this is where the old homesteader’s barn is located. Even the trail there is somewhat spooky, with lots of undergrowth in the forest and low hanging trees.

Finally, we come to a clearing on the crest of a hill. The trees have tapered off and right below us are the remains of the old barn, vines overtaking the dark, splintered wood, knee-high grass surrounding it. Beyond the barn you can see the river far below, like an icy blue thread as it joins an arm of Kootenay Lake. I grew up in a town north of Edmonton in Alberta and we never had anything as beautiful as this.

And we never had a boy as beautiful as Shane.

“So, are you feeling brave?” Shane asks me, leaning against the horn of his saddle and looking like a cowboy. He flashes me a smile and somehow that makes me feel more afraid.

Afraid of my feelings for him.

“You really want to go inside?” I ask warily.

He shrugs. “Only if you want to.”

But it feels like a challenge and I’ve never been one to back away from one.

“Let’s check it out.”

We ride the horses down to the barn and hop off, tying them loosely to a rotted post just as two ravens sail out of the barn.

I let out a yelp as they fly above us, their wings making this incredible whooshing sound. We watch as they disappear over the ridge, calling to each other as they go with deep, rumbling caws.

“My grandpa says ravens are good luck,” Shane says. He reaches for me and brushes my long black hair over my shoulder. I nearly freeze at his touch even as shivers cascade down my spine. “You have hair like raven wings. I should call you Raven.”

I smile. I like that. I don’t want to be Rachel Waters when I’m around him, daughter of the police chief, a girl that should be invisible. I want to be Raven and fly. I want Shane to keep staring at me like he’s doing right now, as if I’m some wondrous mystical creature.

“Okay,” I say. I think my voice is shaking.

He starts to move toward me, leaning in, and for a moment I think he’s going to kiss me.

Holy…

But then he just tugs playfully at the ends of my hair and says, “Let’s go inside.”

He leads the way, and I follow close behind. I’m not even sure this place is safe to be in.

He pokes his head in through the crooked doorway and peers inside. The whole building is at a slant, looking like it could collapse at any moment. This is the farthest we’ve ever gone before. We’ve never gone inside.

I wait at his back, watching his breath rise and fall. He’s nervous too. It just seems so dark and scary.

But then he breathes in deep and steps inside.

I watch as he disappears around the corner.

“Shane?” I whisper.

“This is so cool,” he says, unseen. “Come on in here. Careful, the floorboards are weak.”

“Are there any spiders?”

“Oh come on, ravens aren’t afraid of spiders. They aren’t afraid of anything.”

I wish that were true. But I go inside anyway.

It’s dark at first, but then as I walk into the barn, I can see the details more. There’s an old rusted stove in the corner, and a three-legged chair. A stack of rotting crates. A bale of hay covered in rat poo and mold. An old lantern hangs from the rafters, the glass cracked. In the far corner of the building, where a bunch of beams have fallen to the ground, Shane disappears.

“Be careful,” I cry out after him.

He doesn’t respond.

“Shane?”

No response. He has disappeared and become one with the shadows.

“Shane?” I call out, my voice getting sucked up with the dust.

Slowly I creep past the fallen beams. My whole body feels like it’s being poked by needles, I’m so afraid. It’s so dark here, with only a little bit of grey light punching through a hole in the sagging ceiling. I think I see a shape moving in the corner, or maybe it’s my eyes. There’s a sound of something scurrying.

I’m about to call for him again when a hand touches my shoulder.

I scream, whirling around, and start punching wildly.

I strike something.

“Ow!’ Shane cries out, his figure appearing in front of me.

“Oh my god!” I put my hand to my chest, as if it can keep my heart from leaping out. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he says, and in the dimness, I can see him grabbing the side of his jaw.

I reach out and touch his face, expecting him to flinch and move away, but he doesn’t.

This is the first time I’ve ever touched his face.

It’s softer than I thought it would be.

My fingers linger at his jaw, not sure where to go or what to do but I know I don’t want to take my hand away. “You’re a jerk. You tried to scare me,” I whisper.

“I know, I thought it would be funny,” he says. He puts his hand on top of my fingers and holds them there. “I thought you’d laugh. I’m sorry.”

His hand drops away but he takes my fingers with it, holding on to them tight.

I feel like I can’t breathe. Waves of electricity travel up my arm to my heart, making it feel light and fizzy.

“It’s okay,” I say, but I’m not even sure the words come out. There’s something happening in this space between us—it’s like the world is turning around us faster and faster and we’re staying still.

Shane leans in and my breath catches in my lungs.

He squeezes my hand with one hand as the other goes to my face, cupping my chin.

Then his lips press against mine.

And my world spins and melts and my heart flies out of my chest on raven wings.

He’s kissing me.

My first kiss.

Shane is my first kiss.

I’m so in love with this boy.

Oh my god…I’m actually in love.

The way I feel about him…it now has a name.

I don’t even know how to move my lips back, and for a moment I am completely still on the outside even though I’m a whirlwind on the inside. Then I find the strength, the will to kiss him back, our mouths open just enough that I can taste the orange juice he had earlier.

Finally, we both pull away from each other and it’s only then that I feel like I can breathe.

But I no longer feel like the same person I was five minutes ago.

In the dark reaches of my heart, I feel an impossible hope.

A seedling that Shane planted with his lips.

We stare at each other in the darkness. He’s still holding on to my hand. I think he’s smiling. I’m smiling.

Then there’s a flash of light and the air explodes with a loud BOOM that shakes the whole building, causing something to fall over in the corner.

Thunder.

“Holy shit that was close,” Shane swears. “We have to get out of here.”

He pulls me around the fallen beams toward the door just as it sounds like the building is being pelted with rocks. Hail!

We peek outside as round, white hail, the size of dice, comes raining down, bouncing on the grass. Lightning slices across the sky, making me yelp again. I sound like a silly girl, but I can’t help it.

Moonshine is scared too, even more than me. Spooked, he rears up, the reins attached to the post snapping in half.

“Moonshine!” Shane yells, about to run after the horse but I pull him back into the doorway and we watch as Moonshine gallops into the pines the way we came. Thankfully Teddy is totally unfazed by all of this and remains where he is, even as the hail bounces off of him.

Another lightning strike happens down by the river, the boom of thunder making me cover my ears.

“It’s okay,” Shane says, grabbing my hand again and squeezing it hard. “It will pass.”

“What if it hits the building?”

“We’ll be fine, I promise,” he says. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

And I believe him. Because it’s Shane.

Just like he says, the lightning and thunder move on and the hail stops.

“Wow,” he says, looking around at the white studded landscape. “That was kind of cool.”

I nod. I’m not sure what I’m still hung up on—the storm or the fact that he kissed me.

He kissed me.

“Come on,” he says. “We’ll ride Teddy back.” He unties Teddy and climbs on, holding his arm out for me. “I’ll pull you up.”

Teddy isn’t a tall horse, but even so I’m wary about trying to get on this way. I take Shane’s hand and he pulls me up. It’s awkward, but I manage to sit right behind him in the saddle, my legs pressed against his, my chest against his back. I know we just kissed but this feels even more intimate.

“So much for ravens being good luck,” I say as we start to ride into the trees and back down the mountain. I tighten my arms around his flat stomach.

“You don’t think so?” he asks.

I stare at the golden hairs on the back of his neck, wondering if my breath is tickling them. I wonder what would happen if I put my lips there. I wonder if these kinds of thoughts will ever go away or if I’m destined to think of Shane like this forever.

You love him. You love him, you love him.

I swallow. It feels like I have sawdust in my mouth. “Moonshine ran away on you. What if you never get him back?”

“Moonshine went right back to the stable. I promise,” Shane says confidently. Then he lowers his voice. “And maybe if we hadn’t seen the ravens, I would have never had the courage to kiss you.”

“Oh,” I say softly, my fingers pressing harder into him.

“And maybe you never would have kissed me back,” he adds. “And I don’t think I could have ever truly lived without knowing what your lips felt like.”

Oh my god. He’s being so romantic. My lips are starting to tingle just from his words.

“Shane,” I say to him, resting my head against the back of his shoulder.

“What?”

“What does this mean?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “That I kissed you?”

“Yeah. Are we still friends?”

“We’ll always be friends, Rachel,” he says, and his voice is deep and serious. “Always. But now, I hope we’re more. I like you. I like you a lot.”

“I like you a lot, too.”

“More than a friend?”

“Way more than a friend.”

It feels good to actually say it. So good. We ride in silence for a few moments and I close my eyes, breathing him in, feeling his heart beating through his back. I don’t ever want this ride to end.

“Shane?”

“Yeah?”

“What did you wish for on that wishbone? Remember?”

“I remember,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “But I can’t tell you.”

“That means it hasn’t come true yet.”

“No, it hasn’t.” He pauses. “But it will. One day, it will.”