Burning (23 page)

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Authors: Elana K. Arnold

Tags: #Teen & Young Adult, #Literature & Fiction, #Social & Family Issues, #Friendship, #Romance, #Contemporary

BOOK: Burning
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James was polite, as well. He looked expectantly at me, waiting for an answer. I realized how very thirsty I was.

“Yes, please.”

He nodded and left again, returning with three glasses of water balanced in a triangle in his hands. While he was gone Hog Boy threw himself into the reclining chair and pushed up his feet. Pete leaned his back against the wall and slid to sitting on the carpet, his arms around his knees. I perched on
the end of the couch, near Ben’s head, and laid my hand on his hair. Slowly, I brushed my fingers through it. He sighed as if it felt good.

When each of us had a glass of water James asked, “So what happened?”

“There was a fight,” I began, unsure how much to reveal. I did not want to frighten the boy. “When will your mother return?”

“She and Dad won’t be back until late. They drove into Reno to give our new landlord the deposit on our new place. We’re moving into an
apartment
,” he told Pete. I noticed then that aside from handing Hog Boy a glass of water, he had avoided that boy completely.

“Yeah, I think Mom and I probably are, too,” said Pete. “Maybe we’ll be neighbors.”

“So you and your mom decided to go to Reno? For sure?” Hog Boy looked thrilled.

Pete nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t really—you know—want to move too far away from Melissa.…” He pulled his lower lip between his teeth, clearly uncomfortable.

Hog Boy looked as if he was preparing to say something terrible, but I had no desire to hear what it might be. I spoke first. “If your mother is gone and there is no doctor in town, what do you suggest we do with your brother?”

“I’ll be fine,” Ben groaned. He struggled up to a sitting position as if to prove that he did not need medical care. “James, you’ll take care of me, right?”

“Sure! Of course. But … what happened?”

I felt that I should press them to take Ben to a doctor, but
he did look better now that he had drunk some water, and neither Hog Boy nor Pete seemed terribly anxious to take him anywhere.

“Good question,” said Ben. “Why’d they stop kicking me?”

“They were
kicking
you? Who was kicking you?” James looked indignant, as if he couldn’t believe anyone would kick his brother. He adored Ben, that was obvious.

“And how did you guys know where we were?”

Hog Boy shrugged, looking guilty. “Lucky guess?”

“You were telling me earlier how my family found us,” I prodded Hog Boy.

“Your
family
did this to my brother?”

“Hard to believe, huh?” said Pete. “It’s like the Montagues and the Capulets.”

“Yeah,” snorted Hog Boy, “except Romeo is one mean little motherfucker.”

My instinct was to defend him, and of course nothing is ever as simple as Hog Boy seemed to want it to be. Romeo was many things—a talented musician, a dedicated brother and friend, a fiercely loyal protector of his family. Nothing had changed … except that he no longer saw me as inside that circle. By his logic, once I had betrayed them I was an outsider, no longer deserving of protection.

But a dark purple bruise was forming around Ben’s right eye, and I could not summon words to speak in Romeo’s defense.

It felt so strange, in my heart, to feel the final snipping of ties that had been fraying for many years, some of them—like
my tie to Romeo—probably never properly strong to begin with. That tie I let go gladly, feeling that there was more room to breathe without it wound about my heart. Letting go of the constraints of shame and insularity … I wanted to let those snap, but they were made of tougher stuff and would take more time to break. But others—the ties to my sisters especially—these were made of thin gold wire and they felt as if rather than loosening they were tightening, cutting into the meat of my heart.

Pete and Hog Boy were telling James about how they’d appeared at the mine just in time to rescue Ben from Romeo and Marko’s assault—and I could see how it must have looked that way to them, as they did not understand the implications of what I had done.

“You mean they backed off just because the two of you showed up?” James sounded doubtful.

I cleared my throat. “They left because I shamed them. I made them
marimè
.”

Of course, this brought about more questions than it answered. And it did not sit right with me to explain all this to these
gazhè
. Ben deserved a full explanation; I would see that he got it. Later, when we were alone.

A good way to deflect attention from yourself is to ask a question of another. So I turned to Hog Boy. “You said before that it was your fault Romeo and Marko knew where we were. Would you explain that?”

“Jesus, Hog Boy, you never do know how to keep your mouth shut.” Pete spoke with real anger, unusual for him.

“Fuck you, Pete,” answered Hog Boy.

“What happened, Hog Boy?” Ben spoke.

“It was like this. All of them had left the store to go looking around town for Lala, and so I went inside to tell Pete and Melissa about what had gone down.”

Pete nodded. “He came rushing in all wild eyed and practically hopping from foot to foot. Melissa and I were … hanging out … in the back room, and Hog Boy just came bursting in without knocking. I’d just told Melissa that my mom and I decided we’d be moving for sure to Reno. Anyway, he said that you were missing, Lala, and that your folks were looking for you, and that he’d seen you riding off with Ben on the motorbike. And then he and Melissa and I started talking about where you might have gone off to.”

“And I guess that’s when I fucked up,” said Hog Boy apologetically, “but I never would have guessed that the little rat bastard was listening.”

“Romeo?” I asked.

He nodded. “I didn’t know it then, but I guess he followed me back into the store. He must have heard everything I said—about how I’d bet that Ben took you down to the old mine. You know, because it’s private … and it has the pond.…”

I kept my face carefully neutral.

“But then Melissa decided to go back up to the register,” Pete explained, “and when she opened the storeroom door, we caught sight of him leaving the store, and we put two and two together.”

“Your dad drove up just then and Romeo flagged him down. They must have found the other guy, too, somewhere
in town, and then they split.” Hog Boy was quiet. “I’m really sorry, man. You know I’d never have said anything if I’d known anyone was listening.”

“I know, Hog Boy,” Ben said, half smiling. “You’re a lot of things, but you’re no rat.”

Hog Boy nodded, as if satisfied. “And we would have gotten to the mine right on their heels, too, if Petey’s piece of shit wasn’t such a piece of shit. The engine kept flooding and it took him like ten minutes to get it started.”

“Sorry, bro,” said Pete rather sheepishly.

“Not your fault.” Ben closed his eyes again and lay back, his head in my lap.

I felt a shock of mingled pleasure and shame. His head on my lap—as if he found it comforting. And I remembered the expression on Romeo’s face when he had last looked at me—disgust. I had disgusted him.

Ben’s head grew heavier in my lap. He was asleep again. James had gone into the kitchen to dispose of the melting ice cubes and returned with a damp washcloth. He laid it across Ben’s forehead; it dripped cold water onto my skirt.

It was pleasant here, with Ben and his brother. Even the others, Hog Boy and Pete, did not bother me. They were all gathered around Ben, watching over him. This was a family of sorts.

But it was not mine.

I felt again the tightening of those golden threads around my heart, and I could have gasped from the pain.

“Hog Boy,” I said, “Pete. Which of you can offer me a ride?”

It was all foggy, everything that had happened since Romeo and his brother had kicked my ass out at the mine. I remembered that part only vaguely, which was probably a good thing. I remembered knowing that I would lose. I remembered my foot making contact with Romeo’s knee, and a warm feeling of satisfaction filled me as I thought about it.

And there was a hazy memory of Hog Boy and Pete showing up, the relief of knowing that even if I passed out Lala wouldn’t be alone.

More clearly I remembered Lala and being in the water with her. The feeling of holding her, of kissing her, the look on her face as she let me look at her body—I remembered everything about that. And what it had cost her. I remembered that, too.

I woke more than once to the worst headache of my life. I felt like puking but couldn’t seem to muster the energy to actually do it, so I just lay there—wherever “there” was—with the bitter taste of bile in my mouth.

I heard voices, but I wasn’t sure if they were real or just
in my head. More than once I heard the snort of Hog Boy’s laugh.

There was a sound in my head all the time, a high-pitched ringing that wouldn’t go away. It got louder and softer but it never went away entirely. And there was something else—this sensation of an enormous orb of light, bigger and brighter than the sun. It was there behind my eyes, but at the same time immeasurably far away and just outside my reach. The orb seemed to come closer, closer, as if it would consume me in its giantness and brightness, and then it would spin away until it almost disappeared.

It was the scariest thing I had ever experienced in my life. On the one hand, the thought of being swallowed by the light was terrifying. Once inside it, I knew I would be lost forever. On the other hand, the prospect of
it
disappearing seemed intolerable. Even though I had just found the orb, the thought of existing without it made me feel panicky and sick to my stomach.

I lay paralyzed, half recognizing the voices of the people I loved all around me, unable to communicate with them, completely mesmerized by the glowing orb.

When I woke up all the pain was gone. I felt great. Better than I’d ever felt in my life, I guess. It didn’t feel like I’d been in a fight at all. I rotated my head, raised and lowered my shoulders, and jogged in place. With each step I bounced a little higher until I could have just floated away if I’d wanted to. But I didn’t want to. Because I saw
someone—I saw
her
—just a little ways away, under a tree that confused me.

It wasn’t a tree that grew anywhere around Gypsum. It was a giant, easily fifty feet high, with a great big canopy that must have spanned more than a hundred feet. The shade it threw was amazing, black as night and thick like syrup, and Lala was underneath it. I couldn’t really see her because the shade was so dark, but I knew it was her. Don’t ask me how, but I knew.

The tree’s trunk was massive. The leaves were bright, waxy green, and there were millions of them. I knew that if I spent the rest of my life trying to count them, I still wouldn’t come close to the total number.

The leaves rustled in the breeze. Ahh. There was a breeze. And it felt cool, and damp, as if blowing in from the ocean. And as soon as I thought the word “ocean,” I could smell the salt in the air. If I listened, I could hear them—great, rolling waves, crashing on some far-off beach.

I walked toward Lala. Immediately I felt the luxurious sensation of thick grass beneath my bare feet. It was cool, a little damp, perfect. And as I walked toward the tree, the grass sprang up after each step I took as if it didn’t mind a bit that I had stepped on it.

Bare feet. I looked down at my feet—and realized shoes weren’t all I wasn’t wearing. My legs were bare, too. Shit—I wasn’t wearing
anything
. No pants, no shirt—I was totally naked.

I paused for a minute, contemplating how I felt about this. I wasn’t cold. I wasn’t hot. I felt just right.

And yeah, I was naked, but after the initial shock had passed I was okay with that. The breeze blew over my body like a caress, and I liked the way it felt. It ruffled the hair on my legs, and higher up, too, between them. I felt myself stirring there and looked down. I wasn’t hard, but I wasn’t soft either.

I started walking again toward the tree. Lala was there—waiting for me. She had sat down in the shade. When I got close enough, she stood up.

I thought for a minute about trying to cover myself. But then I stepped into the shade and I saw she was naked, too.

Her hair was down. It fell in long curls across her shoulders, covering her breasts. I could see the curve of them, soft and round.

Between her thighs was a triangle of dark hair. I pulled my eyes up to her face. Her dark eyes were shining and she smiled at me. And then she held her hand out. I stepped forward and took it. We turned together, side by side, our hands clasped, the tree solid behind us.

My other hand I held loose at my side, and I breathed in deeply. Lala breathed in, too, with me.

And then there was something in my hand, something round and warm, something that grew hotter and hotter until it almost burned me up, but I couldn’t let go. I looked down to see what I was holding—it was the same glowing orb, and as I stared at it, it grew and grew.

I looked over at Lala and saw that she was holding something, too, in her free hand—it was round and white like ice, shiny and hard. At first I thought it was a lump of gypsum,
but then it started to grow, too, just like the fiery globe in my hand. It was the moon.

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