Avalon High (5 page)

“Dad,” I said. “I’m just going to the park. It’s only two miles away. There’s one four-way stop and a traffic light before I get there. I’ll be okay.”

My dad didn’t go for it. He let me drive, all right. But with him in the passenger seat.

When we got there, a T-ball game and a lacrosse game were going on. The parking lot was crowded with minivans and Volvos. My dad said that’s because most of the people in Annapolis are ex-military, and they all want to drive the safest car they can find.

I wondered if Will’s dad drove a Volvo. You know, since Will had said he was in the navy.

Oops. I hadn’t meant to think about Will.

My dad told me to call him from the pay phone over by the restrooms when I got done with my run—God forbid my parents should get me a cell phone—so he could come back and get me. I said I would, then gathered up my iPod and water and climbed out of the car. There were only a few people on the running path, mostly walking their Jack Russell terriers or Border collies (back home, the most popular dog is the black lab. Here, it’s Border collies. My dad says it’s because ex-military types want the smartest pet they can find, and that’s the Border collie).

Will’s dog, Cavalier, is a Border collie. I’m just saying.

It was late afternoon, and still plenty hot. As I broke into a jog, I was instantly covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

But it felt good to work my muscles after a long day of being cramped behind various desks. I sailed past the dog walkers, careful not to make eye contact (my dad would have been appalled), intent on the beat of the music I was listening to. I went around the running path once—dodging a T-ball and nearly running into a kid on
a tricycle. It wasn’t until my second and final time around that I remembered to glance down into the ravine—out of habit, really, more than that I expected to see anybody in there—and practically tripped over my own feet and fell onto my face.

Because Will was there.

At least, I thought it was Will. My glimpse of him, as I tore by, was fleeting.

Still, after I was done with my second lap, I doubled back, just to make sure. Not because I wanted to go down there and talk to him, or anything. I mean, the guy is clearly taken. I don’t go after other people’s boyfriends. Not that, you know, if I tried, he’d go for it, or anything. The truth is, I don’t go after boys at all. What’s the point? I’m not the type of girl they ever think of in that way, anyway.

But what if he was in trouble, or something? What if the reason he was at the bottom of the ravine was because he’d tripped and fallen down it? Hey, it could happen. And maybe he was lying down there, bleeding and unconscious, needing the kiss of life? Administered by me?

Okay, whatever. So I wanted to talk to him some more. So sue me.

I found myself on the part of the running path that overlooks the ravine, and there, down below, was someone who looked a lot like Will. How he’d gotten down there without getting torn up by thorns or tumbling down the steep sides of the ravine, I didn’t know.

But I figured I’d give it a try myself. To make sure he was all right, I told myself.

Yeah. That was it. To make sure he was all right.

Whatever.

It actually wasn’t that bad, once I got past the initial wall of brambles. It was even cooler in the deep part of the woods than it was on the running path.

And once you were in among the trees and headed down the ravine, you couldn’t see the running path at all, much less hear the cars from the highway. It was like a primeval forest, where the trees all grew really close together and practically no sunlight at all reached the forest floor, making it a damp, mulchy mess beneath your feet.

It was the kind of place you’d expect to meet a monster like Grendel.

Or possibly the Unabomber.

It
was
Will, I saw, when the trees thinned out enough to allow me to see to the bottom of the ravine. He wasn’t unconscious, though. He was sitting on one of the big boulders that jutted up from the creek bed below. He didn’t appear to be doing anything. He was just sitting, staring down at the burbling water in the creek.

Probably someone who’d chosen such an out-of-the-way and hard-to-get-to—I had scratches from the brambles all over my ankles—place to sit and think really wanted to be alone.

Probably I should have just left him there without disturbing him.

Probably I should have turned around and gone back the way I came.

But I didn’t. Because I am a total masochist.

I had to pick my way along the stones that stuck out of the burbling little creek to get to the boulder he was sitting on. The water wasn’t deep, but I didn’t want to get my running shoes wet. I called his name when I was only a few feet away from him and he still didn’t seem to notice me.

Then I noticed why. He had headphones on. It wasn’t until I jostled one of his feet, dangling above my head, that he started and glanced sharply down at me.

But when he saw it was me, he smiled and turned off his iPod.

“Oh,” he said. “Hey, Elle. How was your run?”

Elle. He’d called me Elle. Again.

Was it wrong that my heart did some more flopping
around inside my chest?

I examined the boulder he was sitting on, saw how he’d climbed it, and joined him. I didn’t ask if it was okay first, either. I knew it was okay from his smile.

The smile that was making my heart sort of hurt. But in a good way.

“My run was okay,” I said, sitting down next to him. But not too close, you know, because I figured I smelled a bit gamy from my run. Not to mention the fact that I’d sprayed myself with about a pound and a half of DEET before I’d left the house, since East Coast mosquitoes seem to love me very much. And DEET isn’t exactly the
eau d’amour
, if you know what I mean.

Will didn’t appear to notice, though.

“Listen,” he said, holding up a single hand as a signal for me not to talk.

I listened. For a minute I thought he wanted me to be quiet so he could say something. Like, you know, how much he loved me. Even though he’d only seen me a few times. And had dinner with me once.

Hey, stranger things have happened. All Tommy Meadows and I had had in common was a deep appreciation for
Spider-Man
comic books.

But it turned out Will didn’t want me to be quiet so he could declare his love for me. He actually wanted me to listen.

So I did. All I could hear, besides the babbling of the water, was the chirping of birds and the hum of cicadas in the trees. No cars. No planes. You couldn’t even hear
the shrieks of encouragement I knew the parents of the lacrosse players and T-ballers had to be letting out. It was like we were in a different world, a sun-dappled oasis away from it all. Though, really, we were only two or three hundred yards away from the Dairy Queen off the highway.

After a minute of this, feeling stupid, I said, “Uh, Will? I don’t hear anything.”

He glanced my way with the tiniest of smiles.

“I know,” he said. “Isn’t it great? This is one of the few places around here that people have left alone. You know? No power lines. No Gap. No Starbucks.”

He had, I noticed, eyes that were the same color blue as my pool, when I got the chlorine and pH balance exactly right. Except that my pool is only eight feet at the deepest end, and Will’s eyes seemed fathomless…like if I dove into them, I’d never get to the bottom.

“It’s pretty,” I said, about the ravine, looking away from him. Because it isn’t a good idea to think about how blue some guy’s eyes are, if he’s already taken, the way Will is.

“You think so?” Will said, looking around the ravine. Clearly, he hadn’t ever thought of it that way before. As pretty, I mean. “I suppose. Mostly…it’s quiet.”

Except…he hadn’t been sitting there enjoying the quiet.

“So what were you listening to?” I asked, picking up the iPod he’d turned off and laid aside as I’d joined him on top of his boulder.

“Uh,” he said, looking faintly worried as I clicked it back on. “Nothing, really.”

“Come on,” I said teasingly. “I’ve got Eminem in mine. Yours can’t be that bad—”

Except that it was. Because it turned out to be a collection of troubadour love ballads. From medieval times.

“Oh my God,” I couldn’t help blurting out in horror, as I stared down at the words scrolling across the screen.

Then immediately wished I could die.

But, instead of being offended, Will just laughed. Really laughed. Like threw back his head and laughed.

“I’m sorry,” I said, mortified. “I didn’t mean—It’s okay. I mean, lots of people like classical…stuff.”

But when he finally caught his breath, instead of telling me where to get off for being so horrified by his musical taste, he said, shaking his head, “Oh, God. If you could have seen your face. I bet that’s exactly how you looked when you opened up that filter basket and found that snake….”

Feeling a little irritated—mainly because his laughter reminded me of Nancy’s warning, about being too funny around guys—I said, “Sorry. You just didn’t strike me as the type to sit by yourself in the woods listening to”—I looked down at the iPod screen—“
Courtiers, Kings, and Troubadours
.”

“Yeah, well,” Will said, growing suddenly sober and reaching out to gently tug his iPod from my hands, “I never thought I was, either.”

As he said it, I saw the shadow I’d noticed that day at
my pool pass across his face again. And I knew I’d said exactly the wrong thing.

But since I wasn’t sure what the right thing to say was—except that I was pretty certain he wouldn’t appreciate my speech about how everyone in the Middle Ages had lice and bad teeth—I just kind of sat there.

Besides, I had a good idea that whatever lecturing there was to do on the subject of Will sitting in the woods listening to medieval music, Lance and Jennifer had already covered that day I saw them in the arboretum with him.

Still, I got the feeling that Will’s gloomy expression didn’t have a lot to do with having been busted listening to lame music. I mean, I have been known upon occasion to crack out my dad’s Bee Gees collection when I was feeling completely nihilistic or whatever. But no amount of teasing on the part of my brother Geoff had ever made me look as…well, hopeless as Will did just then.

Which made me realize: Will shutting down like that wasn’t about my having caught him listening to lame music. It was about something much, much worse.

Wondering what it could be—and hoping it wouldn’t be something that might end up making it difficult for him to take me to the prom, if he and Jennifer broke up or whatever—I took a deep breath and plunged. “Look. This isn’t any of my business. But are you okay?” I asked him.

The shadow had disappeared from his face by then. He seemed surprised by the question.

“Yeah,” he said. “Why?”

“Uh. Let me see.” I ticked off the points on my fingers. “Senior class president. Quarterback of the football team. Valedictorian?”

“Probably.” He grinned. My heart lurched again.

“Valedictorian,” I added to my list. “Going out with the prettiest, most popular girl in school. Likes to sit by himself in the woods listening to medieval love ballads. You see the whole one-of-these-things-is-not-like-the-other part?”

His grin grew broader.

“You don’t beat around the bush much, do you?” he asked, his blue eyes twinkling in a manner that I couldn’t help feeling was very bad for my well-being. “Is that a Minnesota thing, or just an Elle Harrison thing?”

I don’t know how I replied. I know I must have said something, but I don’t have any idea what it might have been. What did it matter, anyway? He’d said it again. Elle.
Elle.

I felt reassured by his flippant response to my question. No, he hadn’t really answered it. But if he could joke around, he obviously wasn’t thinking about ending it all, or whatever. Maybe that look on his face hadn’t meant anything. Maybe he was just a guy who liked sitting alone, listening to medieval music. Maybe he didn’t have a pool, and so that’s what he had to do to float…you know, mentally.

And here I came along, totally busting in where I wasn’t needed. Or wanted.

Feeling stupid, I tried to extract myself as quickly as
possible from the situation.

“Okay,” I said, starting to get up. “Well, see you around.”

But I was stopped by a strong set of fingers that wrapped around my wrist.

“Wait a sec.” Will looked up at me curiously. “Where are you going?”

“Um,” I said, trying to be casual about the fact that he was touching me. He was touching me. No boy—other than my brother and Tommy Meadows, who asked me to couples-skate during a class trip to Western Skateland—had ever touched me before. “Home.”

“What’s the rush?” he wanted to know.

“Uh,” I said. Maybe I hadn’t heard him right. Did he actually want me to stick around? “No rush. I just figured you wanted to be alone. And my dad’s expecting me to call. For a ride home.”

“I’ll give you a ride home,” Will said, climbing to his feet, and pulling me up with him…so unexpectedly that I sort of started to lose my balance, and wobbled a little on top of the boulder….

Until Will put out his other hand, grabbing me by the waist to steady me.

We stood that way for a heartbeat or two, his hand around my waist, the other holding my wrist, our faces just inches apart.

If someone had seen us, they’d probably thought we were dancing. Two crazy teenagers, dancing on top of a boulder.

I wonder if they’d have suspected that one of the teenagers—namely, me—wanted to stay in this position forever, memorize every line of that face so close to mine, reach out and stroke that soft dark hair, kiss those lips that were hovering just inches above mine. Was Will thinking the same things? I couldn’t tell, and I was looking right into those fathomless blue eyes. I thought I felt something—something indescribable—pass between us.

But I must have been wrong, because a second later, Will was saying, “You all right, there, now?” and letting go of my waist and hand.

“Sure,” I said, laughing nervously. “Sorry.”

Except that I wasn’t sorry. Especially since both places he’d touched me were tingling, like they’d been scorched…only in a good way.

We started to climb from the ravine, Will leading the way, politely holding back brambles and giving me a hand up the steeper parts, which were hard to climb in my running shoes. If he noticed how, every time his fingers met mine, sparks seemed to shoot up my arm, he didn’t let on. Instead, he talked about my parents.

Yeah. My parents.

“You three are funny together,” was what Will said.

“We are?”

This was news to me. I mean, I know my dad
looks
funny, with his Dork Strap and all. But he hadn’t even been wearing that when Will came over. And my mom’s not particularly humorous-looking. She’s actually pretty attractive. Until she opens her mouth about broad clear
brows and all of that.

“Yeah,” Will said. “The way they teased you about keeping the pool filters so clean. And the way you razzed them back about the snake. That was funny. I could never joke around with my dad like that. All he ever wants to talk to me about is where I’m going to go to school next year.”

“Oh,” I said, relieved we were off the subject of my parents. “That’s right. You’re graduating in the spring.”

“Yeah. And my dad wants me to go to the Academy.”

Which was the local shorthand, I’d learned, for the Naval Academy. Only nobody ever calls it by its full name around here. It’s just “the Academy.”

I wondered what it would be like to have a dad who was in the military, and, you know, organized. I bet Will’s dad would never make him a sack lunch that included potato salad.

On the other hand, I bet Will’s dad wouldn’t have just ignored the air hose warning on the inflatable rafts.

“Well,” I said, wondering how Will would look in one of those white uniforms I saw the middies wearing around town. Pretty good, I guessed. Really good, actually. “It’s an excellent school. One of the hardest to get into in the country, and all.”

“I know,” Will said, with a shrug, as he held back a particularly thorny branch for me to pass under. “And I’ve got the grades and test scores and everything. But I’m not so sure I want to go into the military, you know? Visit new places. Meet new people. And kill them.”

“Well,” I said, again. “Yeah. I could see how that could suck. Did you, um, mention that? To your dad?”

“Oh yeah.”

“And?” I asked, when Will didn’t say anything else. “How’d he take it?”

Will gave another shrug. “He pretty much freaked.”

“Oh,” I said. I thought about my own dad. He and Mom were always telling Geoff and me to become professors because professors get summers off and only have to teach a course or two a semester.

But I would rather eat glass than have to write academic papers all the time like Mom and Dad do. And I tell them so, regularly.

But they don’t freak when I say it.

“Well,” I said. “What do you want to do instead?”

“I don’t know,” Will said. “My dad says Wagner men have always been in the military”—he raised his hands and made quotation marks in the air as he added sarcastically—“making a difference in the world.” Then he dropped his hands. “And I want to make a difference in the world. I really do. But I don’t want to do it by blowing people up.”