Authors: Kate Brauning
“No sleeping after a head injury. Watch a movie or something. I’ll come check on you in a bit,” Mom said.
I carried my hot chocolate with me. I probably wouldn’t drink it, but leaving it on the table would hurt Aunt Shelly’s feelings.
I crawled up onto my bed and crossed my legs. My drink had cooled off a little, and I took a sip. She’d made it sweet, but not too sweet.
As much as I wanted to sleep, I put in a movie, then drank half the hot chocolate before pulling a pillow onto my lap and reaching for the television remote. I’d been wanting to watch
Psycho
again, but that movie wouldn’t sit well right then.
The floor creaked and I looked up. Marcus stood in the 111
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doorway. I’d left the door open, hoping he’d follow me. Angie and Candace tagged along behind him, carrying throw pillows.
“Marcus said you were going to watch a movie,” Candace said.
“That was a good guess. Climb up.” I made room on the bed. Aunt Shelly wouldn’t make them stop watching a movie if I turned it on. They lay down on their stomachs at the foot of the bed and Marcus sat next to me.
“Any chance you put in
Jurassic Park
?” Marcus asked.
I smiled. “Nope.” We leaned back onto the headboard and I hit play.
As rain poured down on the wealthy leaving the opera and Henry Higgins shouted about Eliza being an incarnate insult to the English language, I leaned my head on Marcus’s shoulder.
“I need to talk to you,” I whispered.
My tone told him what about and he turned to meet my eyes. His breathing paused. “Um. Can it be tomorrow?”
After this afternoon, it could wait until tomorrow. I nodded.
He moved his shoulder lower for me. The girls shifted in front of us, working their feet under the throw blanket. Marcus started playing with his phone, eyes on the screen, but moved his other hand to the bed between us. Without looking, he moved his hand until his little finger, rough and warm, brushed the side of my hand.
112
A sprinkle of rain fell during the night, but the air was muggier and the sky hung even lower by morning. Ceiling fans beat the air quietly, moving a slight breeze through the house. Since our house was dug into the ground, it didn’t absorb much heat, especially away from the kitchen windows, but it was still muggy and uncomfortable. We almost never used the air conditioning, but this was insane.
My phone beeped with a text from Claire.
Did you tell him you were done yet?
I turned my phone off and set it on the desk where I couldn’t see it from the bed.
All afternoon I’d been on my computer trying to write a blog post, but I kept getting distracted and clicking random links. I couldn’t write, couldn’t pull my thoughts together, couldn’t care about movies with this hanging over my head.
Today was the day, and he might hate me for it. He’d resent me for hurting him.
I’d given up on blogging and was reading when I heard her voice. Sylvia Young was in my kitchen. Marcus laughed at something she said. Last I’d seen, he had been mining ore in the Andromeda galaxy. Clearly plans had changed.
I closed the browser and snapped my laptop shut. My neck and shoulder were stiff and painful from skidding around in the truck, and I really wanted to stay in bed, but I straightened my tank top, ran a brush through my hair, and went out to the kitchen.
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Aunt Shelly was making lemonade in a sunny yellow glass jar. She’d love to be June Cleaver.
And that would be fine with me. June Cleaver wouldn’t spy on her niece.
Marcus leaned on the counter and Sylvia stood by the table, twisting her blonde hair around her finger. Again. Powder blue backless heels, this time. They made her legs look tanner and her shorts look shorter. Naturally.
“Oh, hi, Jackie,” she said. “How are you?”
“I’m fantastic,” I said. “Reading
Where the Red Fern Grows
, and it’s just as heartbreaking as everyone says. How are you?”
“Oh.” Sylvia smiled awkwardly. “Well—I’m good, thanks.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “We’re going to play a game. You want in?”
I looked into his brown eyes for a second too long and I knew why he was letting Sylvia Young play cards in my kitchen.
It wasn’t a bad idea, but I still didn’t like it.
“Sure.” I poured myself a glass of lemonade and, after hesitating, poured some for Marcus and Sylvia. I then resolved to think of them as “Marcus and Sylvia” never again.
“Ace high.” Marcus shuffled and then dealt. War usually only had two players, but in this house we had learned ways around the rule. We each turned our first card face up. Sylvia’s card took the other two. Then Marcus and I both turned up jacks, I won the war, and Sylvia took the next two cards.
After watching her for a minute, I said, “So, you said you moved from St. Joseph, right?” I smelled her lilac perfume as she leaned forward to lay down a card. I liked the scent, actually, but I really wanted to hate it.
“Right.”
I might as well ask. “Where’d you go to school?” I took the third set of cards.
“Edison.” She sighed when Marcus took her jack with an 114
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ace. He looked at me.
I stopped, holding my card in the air. That was Ellie’s school.
She had to be the same Sylvia Ellie’s email had mentioned.
“Did you know Ellie Wallace? She transferred from Manson last year.”
Sylvia took a long drink of her lemonade. Too long. Her hand gripped the glass. “I saw her around. I barely knew her.
Really sad, though.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Have you heard anything new about it?”
“No. I knew she was from this area, but I didn’t know she went to your school. Your turn, Jackie.”
I laid down my card. “Saw her around” was not the same thing as playing on her volleyball team. Maybe Sylvia had quit the team. Or maybe she and Ellie hadn’t gotten along well.
We’d been playing cards for twenty minutes when Mom came in and asked me to help her make dinner.
Twenty minutes of war was enough. Marcus headed outside to help Chris and Candace close up the henhouse and Sylvia followed him. Of course she did.
“You don’t like Sylvia, do you?” Mom turned on some rock violinist’s newest album and then poured a cup of dry oatmeal into a bowl.
“She seems fine,” I said, starting to mince an onion. She hadn’t wanted to talk about Ellie, but it was horrible, so that might be why. “What are we making?”
She added two pounds of ground beef, one of ground turkey, and one of venison to the bowl. “Meatball subs. Why is Sylvia only ‘fine’?”
I poured a puddle of olive oil into the heating frying pan. “I don’t know her very well. She definitely seems to like Marcus, though.” The onion hit the pan and sizzled. Sautéing was a good excuse to not make eye contact.
“I noticed that. Do you think he’s going to ask her out?” She 115
How we Fall
kneaded the oatmeal and spices into the meat.
“I guess we’ll see.” I watched the onions searing in the pan.
“He hasn’t dated anyone since that Amy girl, right?” She turned to look at me, and I whirled around to dig in the fridge.
Anything to hide my face.
Last year, Marcus’s parents had pushed him to date someone. For some reason, they were obsessed with it. He needed normal teenage socializing, they said. Personally, I thought it was a ploy to get him to stop playing video games.
We’d talked about it and he said he didn’t really want to date any of the girls he knew. But his parents kept at him, so he asked out one of the girls who played basketball. She said yes, and wanted to get all serious after one date, so he quit seeing her. Our solution to the problem was Amy.
Amy was me. He’d tell his parents he was going to go see Amy and drive off, and then I’d head out to “do chores” or something vague, and he’d pick me up down by the creek. Marcus and Amy did a lot of swimming in their day. They’d broken up shortly after his parents relaxed about his social life.
“Yeah. Amy.” I shut the fridge and crushed two garlic cloves with the flat side of the chef’s knife.
“Did you hear what they found out about that white truck?”
she asked.
I minced the garlic, relieved she was done talking about Marcus. “No, what?”
“Apparently the owner doesn’t fit the description of the man you saw.”
Weird. “Do they have any idea who the guy is?”
“The sheriff said to keep an eye out for the truck again. He’s going to try to get someone from Kansas City to talk to the owner and see if he loaned the truck to anyone, but I doubt it’s actually going to happen.”
Sheriff Whitley wasn’t known for following up on details.
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Uncle Ward could holler into his cell phone all he wanted, and as soon as he hung up, Whitley would forget about it. Even if he did remember and was industrious enough to get ahold of the Kansas City police about the issue, a dented truck in the Missouri sticks wouldn’t be high on their priority list.
I mixed the sautéed onions into the meat and made the mistake of looking out the window. Marcus and Sylvia stood talking in the middle of the yard. The bright evening sunlight lit up her skin. He made a face at something. She laughed and shoved his arm. If standing there grinning like an idiot was any indication, he didn’t mind.
Mom chatted on about the library and how she had to go in and talk to the librarians this week about the summer schedule, but I barely listened.
I couldn’t really blame Sylvia for liking Marcus. The most fair thing of me would be to let it happen. Claire was right—
the best thing for getting over someone was finding someone else. I just had to get over the fact that when I watched her with him, my lungs needed reminded to pull in air.
• • •
After the credits rolled, it was still too hot to sleep. I laid there dozing and waking for an hour, but my fan made little difference so I gathered up my blanket and went out to the living room.
I still hadn’t talked to Marcus.
The living room was always a bit cooler because it was the 117
How we Fall
room furthest back in the hill. I curled up on the couch, mostly hugging the blanket because it was too hot to cover up with it.
My phone buzzed.
Still up?
My phone glowed blue in the dark. He knew me too well.
In the living room. Hot as Hades.
The stairs creaked a moment later as he tip-toed down. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, just basketball shorts. Way to make this harder, Marcus.
He flopped down onto the couch.
“I don’t know how everyone else is sleeping,” I said.
“Maybe they all passed out.”
Marcus’s hair was damp and his face was sweaty. “Eww,” I mumbled, pulling my feet closer to me. “You’re gross.”
“Yeah, well, heat rises. Upstairs is a freaking sauna.”
We lapsed into cranky silence.
Finally Marcus turned toward me and said, “I can’t believe Claire didn’t tell the parents.”
I sat up a little. “I know. I thought she would.”
“She was kinda freaked out.” He shifted on the couch. “I’m surprised no one else has caught us.”
“She’s serious. She says she’s going to tell if we don’t quit.”
He said nothing. I couldn’t see his eyes in the darkness, which made it easier.
“Your mom found out I wasn’t at the pool. She told Dad I was sneaking around with some guy.”
He straightened up. “What? Does she know?”
“I don’t think so. But between her and Claire, we have to do something.”
Silence, still. Finally he said, “Sylvia’s been texting me a lot.”
“Yeah.” Believe me, I’d noticed.
“I can’t believe she went to Ellie’s school.” He turned to look at me again. “You want to go swimming?” Apparently he was 118
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done talking about Sylvia. Fine with me.
Cool water. The night breeze. “More than anything.” I rolled off the couch and went back to my room to dig through my drawer. We’d pulled it off once with Amy. Maybe with Sylvia around as a distraction, we could keep things going for a little while longer. After hesitating, I pulled on my skimpiest swimsuit: a green string bikini with tiny white dots.
I grabbed two beach towels from the bathroom and met him in the living room. We left the house as quietly as possible, and Marcus turned on a flashlight a hundred yards from the house.
The creek cut across the back of our ten acres. It wasn’t a very wide creek, but it had deep spots.
Running through the grass with Marcus felt so familiar I could hardly bring myself to remember that there wouldn’t be a good way to explain this if anyone woke up and found both of us gone in the middle of the night. The adrenaline and expecta-tion made me forget Claire and Aunt Shelly and anything but the good parts of us.
We were even sweatier by the time we got to the creek, but the water was right there. I pulled off my t-shirt and jumped into the creek, the shock of cold water an instant relief from the miserable heat.
Marcus dove in beside me and came up grinning. He’d jumped in wearing his basketball shorts. “A bikini? Not skinny dipping? No fair.”
“Yeah, well, take what you can get.” I splashed him, coming close enough he could almost touch me.
“Oh really. Take what I can get?” He lunged and grabbed my legs, pulling me under. I came up gasping. I yelled and sputtered while I pulled my dripping hair out of my face, but he pushed me up against the bank, muddy and root-covered as it was, and kissed me.
I was going to tell him it was over. I wasn’t even going to 119
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tell him I’d found out I loved him, because him knowing that might make it worse.
His skin burned warm against mine in the dark water. I could hardly see through the water streaming from my hair but I kissed him back, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him closer.