There Will Come a Time (13 page)

It's cold out, so we're both in hoodies and sweats. Our breath rises in small puffs in front of us before we race through it. Her lamp provides enough light, like a little bouncing spotlight. A few stars scatter across the sky above us and a quarter moon hangs as if someone painted it. It's a perfect night.

I tell Hanna about the fashion show I've been roped into, but I leave Lily out. I'm not sure what to make of her. Besides, I just had one conversation with Lily. You can't compare one talk with the thousands I've had with Hanna.

“What's Pete making you wear?” she asks.

“I have no idea.”

“I'll be there with bells on.”

“No, really, you don't have to.”

“And miss your fashion debut? I'm there.” Then she asks, “How's Sebastian?”

“Fine, I guess.” The night air is fresh and smells a little like damp grass because most of the homes we pass have their sprinklers running.

“You haven't talked?” Her voice rises as if she's concerned.

“I just saw him today.”

“What's going on with him?”

“He's good.”

“So is he seeing anyone? That girl from last year?”

“Mindy?”

“Yeah.”

“That lasted a month.”

“Oh. Who broke it off?”

“I don't know.”

“You don't know?” She turns her head, beaming the light in my face like I'm under interrogation. “How do you not know?”

“He never said.” I point in front of us. “Forward.” The light shines ahead.

“And you didn't ask?”

“No.”

We need to cross the street. Making sure a car isn't coming in the dark, I take her elbow with my hand and guide her across.

“Thanks,” she says.

“Yep.”

Even though we're now sloping downhill, she actually slows instead of speeding up.

“I don't understand you. If it were my friend, I would've found out everything.”

“What's to know? They broke up. He's fine.” At least I think he's fine. He's never spoken about her, but I've never asked. Maybe I should check in.

“But maybe he needed to talk it through.”

“We did.”

“How'd you even find out they broke up?”

It takes me a minute to remember back. “It was right before band practice. He told Charlie and me that Mindy wouldn't be coming around anymore. We said okay, then started playing.”

“Oh my gosh!” She throws her arms up in the air. “I'll never understand guys.”

“What?”

She laughs.

“Next time, I'll make sure to send him to you.”

“Please do.”

I think about bringing up River from the other day, like why she was hanging out with him for the second time. But she hasn't mentioned him, so I avoid the subject.

Instead I ask, “How's school going?” knowing she'll carry
the conversation. That's the trick with most girls. If you're ready with a steady flow of questions, she'll keep it going. Grace actually gave me that tip. She said most girls liked to talk, even the shy ones. They love it when the guy asks questions because it shows he is really interested. Honestly, asking questions is a whole lot easier than actually having to come up with what to say. It works every time.

I spend the rest of our run navigating us over and around the tree roots that have broken through the sidewalk. A few times, I have to reach out and steady Hanna. She continues talking, her voice adding to the rhythm of our feet on the pavement.

“Ready for the final stretch?” Hanna asks at the base of our street.

“That a challenge?”

She takes off. “Maybe.”

I catch her and blow past, not stopping until I reach her house. Turning around, I see she's only halfway up.

“Brat,” she says when she reaches me, and leans forward, her hands on her knees.

“You told me not to hold back.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Oh, so you wanted me to throw it.”

“No, just not annihilate me.”

Hanna straightens up, takes off the headlamp, and smoothes
down stray pieces of hair. “Ugh. I'm a mess. Time for a shower.”

From where I'm standing, she's anything but a mess. In the subtle light, I can see that her cheeks and nose are red. Her eyes are shining. Her black leggings cling to her, showing off her legs. She smiles up at me, looking for me to agree with her.

“You're beautiful,” I say, and I'm suddenly shy, so I look at the ground. “But you already know that.”

“Thanks,” she says.

I look back at her, and this time she avoids my eyes. “It's just a compliment. Don't let it go to your head.”

She pushes me. “No take-backs.”

I hold up both of my hands. “No take-backs.”

It was a rule the three of us had. When you said something nice about someone, you couldn't take it back. It was also true when we said something mean.

“Good job.” She holds up her hand for a high five. I give her one.

“See you later,” she says, and turns to go to her house.

“Later.”

I jog across the street, feeling tired and energetic at the same time. I don't know what made me tell her, but I don't regret it. It's true. Hanna's always been beautiful, especially because she doesn't even realize it.

•  •  •  •

After I shower and am ready for bed, I take out Grace's journal. Lily's comment earlier about remembering the details has me wanting to spend time with Grace. I open it and reread the part where she says she doesn't want to be a twin. This time I'm not so angry. If I'm honest with myself, I've thought the same thing. I remember when we were kids I went through this phase when I wanted a brother instead of a sister. I started calling her George. She retaliated by calling me Marcie. We used the names later to tease each other.

I turn to a different page, and as I read, I can hear Grace's voice in my head.

I have so many fears. I'm afraid of failing, of looking bad, of disappointing people. I'm afraid of risk. I'm afraid of spiders and praying mantises. I'm afraid of public speaking. I'm afraid of losing people I care about. I'm afraid that I won't be remembered, that when I die, I'll be a small exhale, a tiny ripple. I'm afraid of heights and tight spaces. I'm afraid of driving on the freeway in traffic. I'm afraid of really tall people. I'm afraid of tiny dogs and scary movies and being home alone. I'm
afraid of being afraid. It's paralyzing, all of these fears. Sometimes I sit in the dark of my room and count to fifty because I think I see something in the shadows. I'm tired of being afraid. I want to be more like Mark or Dad or Jenny. They are never afraid. I'm the freak of the family. The scaredy-cat. The one who doesn't belong.

I look up from the page, sad to think that she dealt with so much fear. We used to count together when we were scared as kids. I am not as brave as she thought. I'm still not really ready to know Grace's unfiltered thoughts. What if she becomes more lost to me? Her journals complicate things because they reveal parts of her that she withheld from me, from all of us. These are the parts of Grace that she kept silent and safe. I wonder if Hanna and I, or my parents, are violating that space by reading them. I know they've read some of the journals in her room too.

Even this Top Five list of hers. How serious was she about it? Did she really think she'd accomplish them? She had a million Top Five lists. And here we are implementing one as if it was her dying wish. But I can't back out. The list has special meaning now, even if I don't want it to, and not just because Hanna and I are doing it together.

During one session, Chris said I should practice following through on my commitments. I think he meant school or with my parents. But it just as easily applies to the list. I need to see it through. Maybe I'll find some kind of closure.

I read another page.

Mostly, Hanna is the best friend, but sometimes she's the worst. We're superclose, almost like sisters, and maybe that's the problem. There are times it's as if we're in some competition I didn't know about. Like today, she was totally flirting with River when she knows I like him. It really hurt my feelings. Does she have to have every guy falling all over her?

I close the book and stuff it inside the drawer. I put my headphones in and try to sleep, but the image of Hanna and River in her backyard comes to mind and will not let me rest.

I
wasn't planning on telling Dad and Jenny about Grace's list, but the bungee jumping requires two things: parental consent and money. It's more expensive than I currently have the funding for. I bring it up over dinner a couple days before the jump, figuring the less time they have to mull it over, the better.

I clear my throat. “So, I found a journal of Grace's that had a list of five things she wanted to do this year. Hanna came up with this idea to honor Grace by completing her list. That's why we went surfing. Next up is bungee jumping. There's a place just north of here, where Sebastian's cousin went, so it's totally safe and everything. We're going to go on Saturday before it gets too cold. Well, it's never really crazy cold here, but it could be. It's in the mountains.” I pull out the form I had printed off the bungee
jumping site and hand it to Dad for his signature. “And I need to borrow some cash. I can pay you back. It's sixty-five bucks. Can you pass the chicken?”

I feel both of their eyes on me as Jenny passes the meat. It's probably the most I've said at dinner, at any time actually, in months. Dad reads through the form and hands it to Jenny so she can give it a glance over.

“Bungee jumping? Why would she have wanted to do that?” he asks, his voice softer than usual.

I shrug, willing myself to relax. “The list is like that. Full of surprises.” I tell them what else is on it.

“A 5K. That's why you and Hanna have been running?” Jenny asks.

“Yep.”

“Can I see the journal?” Dad asks.

“It's in my room.” I stand up to get it.

“That's okay, after dinner,” he says, flustered. He reads the form again.

“Bungee jumping. That's exciting,” Jenny says.

“Maybe I should go with you,” Dad says. “It's from a bridge? I don't want you doing anything that could . . .” He stops and Jenny places her hand on his. “How dangerous is it?”

“Zero danger. It's not even that high. Not like jumping in Costa Rica or Africa or something.”

Jenny nods her head. “There was that girl who jumped a couple of years ago over those famous falls, what's their name, Victoria Falls? In Zambia? The rope broke and she landed in the river with alligators.” Jenny stops when she sees the look I'm giving her. “She lived of course. Besides, that's another country, and the safety precautions in the States are much better. It's fine, honey. Want some more rice?”

“No, thank you. Is there a river under the bridge?” Dad asks.

“Yes,” I say, but I have no idea if there's actually water in it this time of year.

“Can I come?” Fern asks.

“Not this time, sweet pea,” Jenny says.

“But I want to do Grace's things.”

“They're all grown-up things,” Jenny says, “but maybe we can come up with something special to do for Grace.”

“Okay. I want to see an alligator. If you see one, Mark, take a picture.” Fern tells us about the difference between alligators and crocodiles and how someday she wants to be a zookeeper, but only if she doesn't have to clean up the poop. I get that; no one wants that job.

Dad reluctantly signed the release form after reading every word on the website and with Jenny's encouragement gives me the cash, so I head out to Heaton Flats Campground with Sebastian and Grace on Saturday morning. We meet our
instructors, two white outdoorsy guys named Whitney and Rick, at the Forest Service Gate.

We're not the only people bungee jumping today. There are five Korean kids from West LA, three white ladies about Jenny's age, a married Latin couple, and us. The instructors tell us that we need to get moving because it's a five-mile hike to the bridge.

We start together, then splinter off into our smaller groups within the overall group.

We are at the base of the San Gabriel Mountains, and even with the slight elevation, the temperature drops significantly. I'm glad to be moving to warm up. It also means we probably won't run into rattlesnakes or tarantulas or scorpions. They usually come out when it's hot.

The trail winds along a narrow river, keeping us to the right of the water. It leads us into a huge gorge with tall jagged granite walls. They're stunning, with lines of different colors stretching from a deep adobe to a light pink, carved out from floodwaters over the years. The constant rushing of the river makes us have to speak louder than usual. Five miles isn't that long, but this isn't a flat five miles, and some of the trail is on the sandy riverbed, over boulders, and across rocks.

About two miles in, we run across some men camped by a section of the river that collects in a small pool. They are bent over the water with pans and are sifting through the sand.
Whitney says hello to them and tells us after we pass that they are miners. Go figure. I wonder if they actually find any gold or silver or whatever it is they're looking for.

Sebastian, Hanna, and I have a conversation that loops and winds along with the trail.

“Hanna, what's your take on alien life-forms?” Sebastian asks.

“Seriously?” She looks at me sideways.

“He's very serious,” I say.

“I don't know.”

“You've never thought about it?” he asks, surprised, as if everyone thinks about aliens with the frequency he does.

“Not really.”

“Oh.”

“But I guess there could be. The universe is pretty big, right?”