Earth/Sky (Earth/Sky Trilogy) (8 page)

Swallowing the marshmallow, Nash said, “
I’m a champion at marshmallow catching. When it becomes an Olympic sport, you can brag that you knew me in training.”

“I’ll do that,” I said.

“So, I bet you’re hating Spooner.”

“Just m
y lack of cell phone service,” I said. “I miss it.”

“It’ll pass one of these years,” a girl called from another log.
“It’s getting closer and closer with each vote.”

“Yes,
and once again, I would like to apologize for my father,” said Diego. Savannah whispered that his father was violently opposed to cell phones in Spooner. He was heavily involved in the movement to keep them out.

“I mean, don’t they realize how they’re crippling us for the modern world?” London was saying.
“We’re not going to stay here forever, and we should know how to use them when we leave!”

“I’m staying here forever!” Billy shouted.

“And that is no surprise,” London retorted.

It was growing dark very quickly.
Muscular arms braced the log on either side of me, and Zakia stuck his head over my shoulder. “Room for one more?”

I breathed in the smell of earth from his skin.
He was dressed in clean jeans and a T-shirt, with no dirt on him anywhere but the smell of his day’s work was still exuding from his skin. Not knowing what Adriel could dislike about this friendly guy, I resisted the impulse to lean back into him and breathe again. There was nowhere for me to move, not with the girls at my sides and Nash sprawled in front of us. Still wanting him by me, I said, “Cram in somewhere, Zakia, it’s good to see you. You must be tired from those planters.”

“Nah,” Zakia said, coming around the log and sitting between my feet a
nd Savannah’s. “It’s easy work, even with the wrong shovel.”

“They sh
ould just get concrete planters,” I said. “It’s a waste of money to put in wine barrels to rot over and over.”

“Those are donated,” Zakia
explained as I drew back my weenie to check its progress. How did you know when it was cooked? I’d never done this before. Some people were letting theirs char, but that filled them with carcinogens. I was going to undercook mine and give myself a food-borne illness. Deciding I wasn’t hungry, I offered it to Zakia. He took the stick, his hand very cool even though he was sitting right by the fire. “Thanks, Jessa. Aren’t you hungry?”

“I made some dinner for my grandfather before I left and
ate there,” I confessed. I’d claim a bag of chips or a candy bar later.

“Cupcakes!” a boy howled.
Kitts had arrived with a plastic container.

Swallowing a
giant bite of the hot dog, Zakia said, “There’s an alumnus of Spooner High who owns a winery south of here. He donates his old wine barrels to decorate the school. They aren’t worth much except as planters.”

“I think they make the school look pretty,” Savannah said.

“They’ll be even prettier when I stick some flowers in them next week,” Zakia promised. I shouldn’t have offered him a hot dog that I feared would make me sick. So I’d rather he be sick? Too late now. It was nearly gone.

“The girls think we look like sheepdogs,” Nash said to Zakia.

“No, we think
you
look like a sheepdog,” London corrected. “Zakia has long hair, but it’s not in his face.”

Nash threw a marshmallow up
into the air and opened his mouth to catch it. As he chewed, he said, “We’re getting left out of current culture. I mean, basically the smartest one here is Jessa.”

I flushed when
everyone stared at me. A girl said in irritation, “I don’t think it’s
that
bad. Have you seen people out there? They’re always looking at their phones, in restaurants with dates across the table, in movies, while crossing the street. What do they need to find out that badly, Jessa?”

Unco
mfortably, I shifted on the log. “Some people are rude or careless, but not everyone. You have a world of information right there at your fingertips. Maybe you’re not sure about trying a new restaurant, so you just look up the reviews. If you’re lost, the phone can find you. Bored in line at the DMV and you can play a game to pass the time. It’s a tool, a really helpful tool, and it also makes it easy to keep up with friends.”

I could have said more, God, I could have talked for an hour, but it would look like I was haranguing.
In one week, I had fallen completely out of touch with my Bellangame friends, with the world in general. This must be what it felt like to be Amish. Conversation went on as I looked into the fire. Well, maybe half-Amish. I hadn’t driven a buggy down here. Could people be half-Amish? I had no idea. My cell phone could have answered that question in a snap.

“No, I would love to,” Zakia was saying to Kitts
, who had squashed in with us. “I tried to talk them into it, but they won’t let me.”

“Won’t let you what?” I asked
.

“
Grow flowers from seed in the planters. The school wants them to look good immediately. And they’re worried that students will pull up the seedlings, or toss garbage in the planters and crush them. So we’ll be getting a delivery from the Garden Center next week of annuals for me to transplant. When those die back, they’ll just deliver another load or substitute plastic until spring. It’s too bad. Lotus has a lot of seeds that she’d be willing to donate.”

The music was turned up
once more and people began to dance. Nash offered his hand and I took it reluctantly. Hearing songs that I’d danced to in happier times was depressing. The Plug Nickels, Lady Whoha, BBG, these were bands I associated with home. Spooner had nice people, for the most part, but this place just wasn’t
me
.

Marshmallows kept flying over from those
on the logs for Nash to chase. After his tenth crash to the ground, I pleaded a restroom visit. He got up only to hurl himself down after another one, and I faded away into the darkness around the still water. There I walked along the curves of the reservoir, guided by the small lights on the campgrounds.

Overhead, the sky wheeled with stars.
I hadn’t known how many were truly up there until now, in a place without so much light pollution. Only the strongest could pierce through where I once lived, but here they all had a chance to shine. Wanting to scrub them from the sky, I continued walking. The noise of the party faded.

Sometimes life hurts so badly that it leaves a person without the words to describe it.
That was how I was feeling, emotion minus the mental commentary. Wind moaned around me. In my heart, I flowed with it through the trees and over the black water to crash into the swooping climb of the hill I’d ridden down. This place was so remote, so lonely, like the regular world had forsaken it.

Tired of walking, I stopped and faced the water to close my eyes and let the wind tousle my hair.
This change in circumstances had drained me of everything, and for a long time, I just stood there. It was so hard to remember that even in the darkest place, the sun was shining somewhere else.

The
wind was racing over the water when I heard an odd sound. The trees had creaked the same way with every gust, but this was a sharper and deeper sound from above. I turned around and looked up. Trees loomed over the campgrounds. Cresting them was some quickly moving shape that was gone before my brain could register what it was. A kite? A kite must have shaken loose from the trees and risen into the air only to be yanked back down by its tail caught in the branches.

Uneasiness stirred within me.
There were probably panthers or something like that out here, and I was making myself easy prey. I turned to go back to the party and walked right into someone. Crying out in shock since I had thought I was alone, I realized it was Zakia. He had come up soundlessly. At my cry, he said, “It’s okay, Jessa! I’m just walking people out and I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“Walking people out where?”
I asked.

“A rough crowd showed u
p a few minutes ago at the fire,” he said as we started back. “The ranger is arguing with them, but it’s best just to leave. I thought you’d gone with London and Savannah, but then I saw your scooter.” Although I could not see his face well, the worry in his voice was palpable.

“Who are they?” Jagged laughter and raised voices echoed out from the fire in the distance.

“The Gap has some wild ones, and attracts wild ones from elsewhere. The ranger called the police from his house phone, but it takes a while for them to respond-” Something crashed, followed by cheers. He stopped. “They’re turning over the portable restrooms. We’ll go another way to the parking lot.”

Taking my arm, he
steered me away from the water and the fire. His hand had gone from cool to almost cold. Once past the lights, I couldn’t see a thing. “Where are we going?”

“We’ll take the path here.”

There was a path? I could barely see my feet. Trusting him, I walked along hurriedly into the nothingness. Wind rocked the trees around us, and part of an angry shout gusted by. “-leave or you’ll be arrested-”

A branch creaked above.
I looked up out of reflex. Something about the sound was angry. Then another branch creaked farther ahead. “Are there . . . panthers in this region, Zakia?”

“There was a mountain lion sighting last year,” Zakia said.
“Killed some sheep. It hasn’t been caught yet.”

“How can you see where we’re going?”

“I can see in the dark.”

The blackness
soon turned to gray, and then a dirty yellow as we stepped into the parking lot. The cars that had been parked every which way were gone. I looked to the crowd of adults by the fire and Zakia whispered at me to only look at my scooter. He walked me all the way to it and waited for me to get out my helmet. Concerned that he had no car, I said, “How are you going to leave?”

“I live half a mile from here.
Go, Jessa, right now. I’m going to wait for the police. The ranger is a friend of my family and I don’t want to leave him here alone. This could get ugly real fast.”

A fresh round of shouting and another
crash cut through the air. I put my helmet on and didn’t bother with the strap, wanting too much to be away. Without even thanking Zakia, I turned on my scooter and rolled down the path. Parked outside the entrance to the campgrounds were motorcycles and dirty old vans that had not been there earlier. I accelerated to the maximum speed, wishing it were faster. A siren was going in and out from the road up on the hill, and then it came steadily in its descent. The road climbed gradually under me, and I pulled over as a squad car drove past with its lights flashing.

Worried my scooter wasn’t strong enough to take the increasing grade of this
road, I pulled back on and started up it. The motor whirred but the wheels stubbornly turned on. I was a mess of nerves by the time it leveled at my left turn to the curving road. Both lanes were empty. The wind blew hard and I fought to keep the scooter steady in the gale. Everyone from Spooner High was long gone; no red taillights glowed in the distance.

Something caught my eye, a large shape skimming just over the treetops.
Then it dipped down and disappeared. The wind died and a rumble replaced it. A van was behind me, honking its horn and wanting to go around, but I had no shoulder or rest area to pull off. Nor could I wave the van on when I couldn’t see around the blind curves in front of me. The horn blared without cease. Windows rolled down. “Move the hell over!”

Glancing over my shoulder, I recognized one of the vans I’d passed outside the campgrounds.
The engine revved and the van crept up to tailgate. Then it roared and went into the other lane. But it didn’t go around. Staying only a little ahead, a woman leaned out of the passenger side window and hurled a beer bottle at me with a laugh. It struck down in front of the scooter. Swerving to avoid it, I jammed my brakes as the van veered into my lane and clipped the scooter hard.

I lost control
with the blow. The scooter spun wildly over the lanes, tipping farther and farther with me helpless to do anything. I couldn’t even scream. It happened in slow motion, the edge of the road coming up fast as I whirled around and no guardrail to stop me. Moonlight shined down on the dark forest below.

I rocketed over the side. T
he scooter dropped out from between my legs. I was falling, the wind rushing up to slap me in the face and steal the breath from my lungs. My arms flailed overhead in the air, an animal instinct to grab onto something though nothing was there. I tumbled down and down to the trees, and any second now I was going to fall through them, strike the ground and die . . .

I love you, Mom and Dad.

Something gold and massive roared up from the blackness, and it caught me.

Chapter Four: The Miracle

I had died. And yet I breathed.

The forest rushed beneath me, like I was the wind passing over it.
My hair gently streamed back from my face. Something was holding me around the waist, but I didn’t have the sense to turn and see what it was. Though I was moving at incredible speed, it was not frightening, only curious. I watched the trees sweep away and was still.

Music.
The chords of some unearthly orchestra teased at the very edge of my hearing. It was both soothing and tantalizing, and as my speed increased, so too did the volume of those eerie but beautiful chords. It was of no instrument I’d ever heard, not a piano or a harp or a flute, yet somehow all of them simultaneously. Then we slowed and I wanted to cry out for that music fading away.

I was pulled higher, coming level with the winding road, and then it was far below.
Climbing up and up into the starry night, the music growing fainter until my body crooked and turned. Now I was going down, far faster than I had with the scooter, and the chords returned. I closed my eyes to the song for the impulse was irresistible. It lulled me deep inside myself, to a place of peace I never knew existed. All of my life was gone, erased by these chords, and my only conscious wish was to listen for eternity.

And then they were gone
. I was standing alone on the sidewalk in front of Grandpa Jack’s house. Two squad cars were parked at the curb, and every light inside was blazing. My lower left leg stung fiercely. I looked down to tattered jeans and blood. My shoe was missing. When I staggered up the walkway, my wounded leg screamed with pain. The door would be unlocked, of course, and it was. I let myself in. A gray-faced Grandpa Jack looked up in shock from his recliner. My helmet was on the coffee table. The room was packed with cops and neighbors, all crying out and rushing forward to surround me.

In seconds I was seated, a man introducing himself as a retired doctor and checking over my leg.
A light was shined into my eyes. Questions tumbled over each other from too many mouths, and I could string few of them together into sense. Nor did I want to, still stretching after that music gone quiet.

The word
hospital
was spoken over and over. Possible concussion, she must have walked back all this way, have her checked out, someone drive out there and tell everyone the hunt’s called off, she’s in shock . . . I reached for those chords, grieving that I could no longer remember the melody. The time on the doctor’s watch caught my attention. How was it midnight? It couldn’t have been nine o’clock when I left the campgrounds.

“What happened?” I asked woozily.

Grandpa Jack’s face swam into view. “Zakia called to make sure you got home. You should have been here by the time he did. So the cops started hunting, and found your helmet and skid marks right at the edge of the road on those cliffs. The scooter was down below. Looked like someone hit you, do you remember?”

“A van clipped me,” I said.

“Did you get a good look at it?” a cop rumbled.

“Not really,” I said.
I couldn’t even say what color it had been. “It looked like one of those from that crowd who crashed the party.”

Voices spilled over
each other as I sank into the love seat. Those weren’t Gap people but from farther north, did someone call off the hunt, the ambulance is on its way, do you think she wants some water? All I wanted was that music, and in trying to recreate it in my mind, I slept.

I woke
up in a bed that wasn’t mine. The room was dim. A little yellow light glowed in from a cracked door to a hallway. A nurse flashed by the crack, on her way somewhere else in a hurry. How I’d gotten to the hospital was an extremely faint memory. An EMT had asked some questions about my name and school. I wasn’t sure if I had answered him.

Having to go to the bathroom, I got out of bed rather than use the call button.
I wasn’t hooked up to any machines, but my leg was bandaged around the calf. It felt strong enough to hold me, and it must have been okay since I’d gotten from the road to the house. I didn’t remember a single step of that walk.

Staggering to the bathroom, I opened the door.
The light went on automatically. I inspected my reflection, expecting myself to look gaunt and awful. My hair was a mess and my cosmetics were smeared, yet there was something serene in my eyes.

I had gone over the side
. I knew that much. The scooter dropped out from under me . . . I must have caught myself on the edge or on some foliage just beneath it, hauled my body back up, and started to walk since calling for help was not an option. While washing my hands, I examined them for scratches. There was nothing, not even dirt.

Wind was
rocking the trees outside the window when I exited the bathroom. This room was up on the third floor. I looked into the dark, feeling like I was not alone. Yet nothing moved out there as I pulled the hair back from my face. My paper nightgown crinkled. The color of the sky was a tired black, the tinge it got when dawn wasn’t far away.

I had not caught myself on anything.
Something caught me. Maybe it was the canopy of a tree that broke my fall. At the speed I’d been plunging, however, I should have had more injuries than some road rash on one leg! I ran my hands over my arms in expectation of discovering some ache or pain. I was fine. Returning to the bed, I settled myself on the lumpy mattress and went to sleep. In my dreams, I flew.

Grandpa Jack and a doctor were standing by my bed when I woke
up the next time. A tray of breakfast was on the table. I blinked to clear my eyes and the doctor looked down with a brisk smile. She was in her forties, and her earrings were iridescent oak leaves. Behind her, the windowsill was covered in bouquets and stuffed animals that hadn’t been there in the night. “Jessa, how are you feeling? I’m Dr. Walters.”

“I’m okay,” I said.

“Like I was just telling your grandfather, you’re quite lucky to have walked away from that accident with just some scrapes.”

My memories of the conversations in the house last night were hazy.
“Is- is Zakia okay? He stayed at the campgrounds to help the ranger while they waited for the police to show-”

“He’s fine,” Grandpa Jack said.
His color was back to normal, although he looked very tired. “His whole family turned up to help in the search, all the Coopers and the Kreelings, too. They know that terrain well, especially Lotus, and they were the ones to find your scooter. Expected to find you next.”

“I don’t remember walking
back to the house,” I said. I
should
remember that.

“That’s normal.
You were in shock,” the doctor said. “I’m glad your feet led you home. Do you remember the accident?”

“
Some of it. They wanted me to let them pass, but I didn’t have a shoulder or a rest area to pull over. So they yanked over into the other lane to go around and threw . . . I think it was a beer bottle? A woman threw a beer bottle. Then they hit the front of the scooter . . . and I started spinning . . .” I trailed off lamely.

Grandpa Jack’s hands tightened on the bar of the bed.
“The ranger didn’t get any of their names, and they peeled out when the cops showed. They weren’t from Spooner, and they’d better think twice before coming back.”

The doctor checked over my leg and had me move it in different directions.
There wasn’t much pain. Making a note on a clipboard, she said, “Take it easy for the week and let that heal. Over the counter drugs if it hurts should be enough, and use icepacks to reduce the inflammation. Watch for infection, but I think this will heal cleanly. Are you feeling up to visitors?”

“
Visitors?” My parents couldn’t be here. They were on the other side of the planet.

“I’ve got a lobby full of horrified Spooner High kids,” the doctor explained.
“How about I send in a few to visit while I talk to your grandfather about checking you out of here?”

I nodded.
My room was flooded with people in an instant, London and Savannah, Nash and Diego and Easton. Her eyes red-rimmed, Savannah settled a teddy bear wearing a get-well shirt into my arms. “We’re so sorry! We didn’t see you anywhere, so we all assumed that you must have left the party already.”

“It’s okay,” I said, uncomfortable to see her so upset.
“I had just gone on a little walk to look at the water.”

“They’ll catch those people,” Nash said angrily.

“You must think we’re all barbarians,” London said. “Honestly, that kind of thing isn’t a regular happening here.”

“I don’t think you’re barbarians,
it was just some jerks in a van. They weren’t even from around here,” I consoled.

As Savannah placed more of the stuffed animals on the bed, Easton said, “I went over to Adriel’s house to tell him this morning when they didn’t pick up the phone, but there’s a note on the gate that his family is out of town for the weekend.”

“The gate?” I echoed.

“The Graystones have one of the nicest homes in Spooner,” London said.
“All the best homes are on the northeast side, private drives and pushed back from the road. Easton and I live just south of that area.”

A nurse leaned into the room and asked if anyone was willing to load up Grandpa Jack’s car with the bouquets, cards, and stuffed animals.
They jumped to help, finding boxes to place everything in and the flood receding as quickly as it had come in. I rested against the pillows with my eyes closed, my mind picking at all that I couldn’t remember from the night. The memories of the party were clear, the flying marshmallows and walking along the reservoir.

Someone knocked on the open door and I turned to see Zakia and little Lotus.
She smiled tentatively and said, “Your scooter is trashed.”

I laughed.
“I figured.”

“I mean, like
really
trashed.” She looked both amused and impressed.

“Okay, Lotus,
you saw that she’s alive,” Zakia said. Lotus grinned and darted down the hallway. Coming in, Zakia sat in the chair by the bed and lifted the lid on the breakfast tray. “What, you don’t like hospital food? Is it better in Los Angeles or something?”

“I haven’t even had a chance to check it out,” I said.
He wheeled over the table and made it extend over the bed. On the plate was a slice of buttered toast, some withered-looking scrambled eggs, and grapes that had seen better days. I shook my head and drank the orange juice. Setting down the cup, I gestured to the plate. “Help yourself. You were up half the night.”

He took the piece of toast.
“I’ve never been so happy to
not
find someone. Then after seeing what was left of the scooter, I figured your body must have been caught in the trees and we’d just have to wait for daylight to find it and bring it down.”

“Thank you for looking.
And for calling my house.”

“It made me nervous how fast those fools were driving away
once they heard the sirens. They junked the campgrounds. My grandfather Barney is friendly with the cops, and they told him there were reports of a group of people doing this at two other campgrounds in the last month. It might be the same group. Just showing up to drink and make trouble.”

“You should have that looked at,” I said about the black spot on his arm.
“Sometimes they can be cancerous.”

“What, this?” Zakia looked at his arm.
“It’s nothing. Just a friendly neighborhood mole.”

“
I remember the party, and you walking me to the parking lot through the dark. And I remember driving up the incline, and the beer bottle that woman threw. I don’t remember climbing over the side and back to the road,” I said, not knowing why I was saying this to Zakia at all. “I don’t remember walking home.”

“Is there something about those events you want to remember?” Zakia said with gentle teasing.

How could I have walked home in the dark like that? In shock and with my famous lack of direction, I should have ended up in Oregon or out to sea. The crowd of my friends returned, London snapping, “Should you really be eating her food?” and Zakia grinning as he ripped off a big chunk of the toast and crunched it loudly. Grandpa Jack came back with a wheelchair and the news that I’d been discharged.

I wasn’t allowed to walk out.
Submitting to being rolled along like an invalid, I got into the mail truck with a dozen hands all extended to catch me in case I fell. Everyone agreed that I should rest for the day, and they’d call or visit on Sunday.

The music
. . . it was completely gone, every last bit of it stripped from my mind except for the knowledge that I had heard those unutterably beautiful chords. I glared at the disco fish when I set it off on my way up the stairs at home, resentful to hear any other music. Then I lay in bed while Grandpa Jack answered the door over and over to neighbors bringing over meals like I was gravely ill or had died.

My parents called that evening
in hysterics. The connection was terrible, but enough information got through to convince them that I was fine and they didn’t have to cut the cruise short and come back. Then it cut out entirely and I set the receiver back in its cradle to fight with the Internet connection. But it wasn’t worth it, and I soon quit to flip around the channels on the television. Grandpa Jack insisted I not help make dinner or clean up after it. He just wanted me to sit there.