I’ll Meet You There (20 page)

“Disgusting, aren’t they?” muttered Chris. This was our bit, giving Dylan and Jesse
shit for acting like an old married couple. Chris called it self-preservation.

I laughed, but my heart wasn’t in it. “Yeah.”

Dylan turned onto a narrow dirt lane bordered by cornfields and parked among the jumble
of cars at the edge of a large clearing, her headlights slicing through the sudden
darkness. Fields surrounded us on three sides, with the creek at the far end, boxing
us in. I could just barely see its inky water, slithering beyond a wall of brush.
The only light came from the fireworks people were setting off and a sliver of moon
that played hide-and-seek behind a charcoal cloud. Smoke from the fireworks settled
over the land like a thick mist. Everything—the moon, the fireworks, the fields—had
an otherworldly beauty, and I shivered, greedy for these bits of loveliness the universe
was throwing our way tonight.

It was the usual Creek View crowd, and as we got out of the car, people called out
to us or raised bottles of beer in greeting. I let Dylan be our official spokesperson
and kept my eyes down or unfocused. I wouldn’t let myself look for him. If he was
with her, making out in his truck or lighting fireworks, then fine. Whatever.

Chris handed me a sparkler. “Ready?”

I nodded and he brought his lighter close to the tip. It lit and sparks began to fly,
kissing the night. I twirled, and the sparkler spit light around me in fire-colored
swirls. I heard the sound of my laughter, and for a second, I was ten years old again,
running around with my dad.

Dylan and Jesse and Chris lit their own sparklers, and we sort of skipped around until
they died out. The air filled with pops and screeches, fire and color coming from
all directions. It was magical, those sudden bursts of rainbow light. I longed for
my razor blade and shimmery paper. Or maybe colored chalk and black cardboard. I wanted
to put this down on paper so it wouldn’t end.

I caught myself scanning the crowd, and I closed my eyes. Pining away got you stuck
in a dark bedroom at the back of a trailer, with a bottle of Prozac and some cheap-ass
boxed wine to keep you company. I had friends. A scholarship. A job. I needed to wake
the hell up.

Wake. Up.

“Okay, guys, stand back!”

I opened my eyes and watched as Chris set a firecracker on the hard-packed dirt. As
soon as he lit it, he darted toward us, like it was about to sting him. The flame
sparked, then the firecracker spun on the ground, faster and faster, letting out a
high-pitched scream while it shot out hot, bright light. White, yellow, pink. I had
to cover my ears, it was so loud.

That’s when I saw Josh, walking away from the field. Alone.

He looked pissed off, his face dark and stony except for the shards of light cut into
it, sparks from the fireworks. He stumbled over something but kept going, his back
rigid.

And suddenly the redhead and him not kissing me in the rain didn’t matter—I had to
make sure he was okay.

“Be right back,” I said to Dylan. I didn’t know if she’d heard me, but I took off
after him.

“Josh!” I called.

He seemed to slow for a second, then went on, walking faster. The air filled with
the sound of dozens of firecrackers being shot off at once.

Someone grabbed my hand. I turned around.

“Blake, let go—”

He shook his head, his mouth set in a thin line. “He just wants to be alone. Trust
me.”

Blake let go of my hand, and I looked back at Josh. All I could see was a dark outline
walking into the shadows along the creek.

“But—”

“He’ll be okay. When he’s like this, best thing to do is just let him go off.”

“When he’s like what?”

Blake shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Like Josh. The new Josh.”

“What happened?”

He threw his hands up. “He said the security here was shit, and we shouldn’t be exposed
like this, and I was all, ‘Dude, it’s cool,’ and then he just bolted. I tried to follow
him, and he told me to fuck off. His words, not mine.”

How many Joshes were there? I was starting to lose count.

Blake waved at someone in the darkness, then turned back to me. “Alexis is here. Gotta
go, or she’ll kill me for talking to a girl that’s not her.”

He gave me a sheepish smile and backed away, and I knew he was thinking of his party
and how clingy he’d gotten after one too many beers.

“See you,” he said.

“Yeah.”

I waited for him to leave, then headed off in the direction I’d seen Josh go. It didn’t
matter what Blake said; it was almost like I didn’t have a choice.

It must have been hard for Josh—I had two perfectly fine legs, and even I kept stumbling
over roots and rocks and whatever else was on the ground. The clouds had shifted,
bathing everything in bright moonlight, but it was still difficult to see more than
a few feet ahead of me. The creek was to my right—I could hear it—but the path Josh
had taken led away from it, toward the train tracks. I’d almost given up when I saw
an opening between two large bushes.

I pushed through, and I was suddenly at the edge of a field beside the train tracks.
Josh was leaning against a run-down picket fence, staring at the tracks, his arms
crossed, his face hard. I could still hear the firecrackers in the distance.

“Josh.”

His head whipped around. “Who’s there?” he asked, his voice harsh.

I took a few steps forward. “It’s Skylar.”

He peered into the darkness, and when he saw me, he looked away. “What are you doing
here?”

I couldn’t tell if he was angry or annoyed. Definitely not happy to see me.

“I saw you take off and…”
And what?

Following Josh had been an instinct. For weeks, it was like my body was always aware
of where he was. But everything about him right then said he didn’t want me around.
Probably wished I was the redhead.

He turned and placed both hands on the fence, leaning into it.

“Are you okay?” I asked.
Just go. You’re the last person he wants to see.

“I’m fine.”

Another firework went off, and he flinched, just slightly. The only reason I noticed
was because I was making a point to. The moonlight was bright enough that I could
see the tendons in his arms popping out as he gripped the fence.

I leaned against it, close, but not too close. “What’s wrong?”

Josh shook his head.

“Can I help? I mean, is there something you need or—”

Another firework went off, and he let out a frustrated grunt and hit his fist against
the fence. “I’m so fucking tired of this.”

“This?”

He swept his hand over the sky, the fields. Everything. “This.”

I should go. Just … go. Go.
But I couldn’t move.

“Why are you here, Sky?” His voice was low, accusatory.

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

Our eyes met and something flickered in his, but before I could figure out what it
was, there was a sudden, loud burst of fireworks—the air exploding with sound and
light. It was as if everyone in the clearing had thrown their stash into a pile and
lit the whole thing. Fear lashed across Josh’s face, just for a second, and he turned
away from me, staring out at the dark field on the other side of the fence with the
intensity of a German shepherd. I reached out and grabbed his hand.

“It’s okay,” I murmured.

He looked at me, and I kept my eyes locked on his, and we stood like that, facing
each other, my hand gripping his or his gripping mine—I didn’t know because I think
both of us were terrified at that moment, but for different reasons. When the fireworks
finally stopped, he nodded and let go.

“Thanks,” he said. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “I’m such a fuckin’ pussy.”

“Right. Because pussies volunteer for the Marines during a war.”

He snorted. “There was a signing bonus.”

“That is so not why you joined.”

Josh turned to me, his eyes searing. “Are you with him?”

It was so unexpected, his question, that all I could do was stand there for a second,
stunned.

“With … who? What are you talking about?”

But I knew, of course I knew. Was he jealous? Something fluttered in my chest, and
I bit back a wild desire to smile.

“Garcia,” he said. Market. Chris hugging me in his truck.

“
No
.” I stepped closer. Just a few inches between us now.

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he crossed his arms, gazed up at the sky. In our
silence, I could hear the sound of the rain pounding on the Paradise pavement, his
voice close to my ear, singing.
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget.

There was another firework, a red one that bled onto the sky, and he stared at it.
I could see its fire reflected in his eyes, like dozens of arteries. Then it was quiet.
Neither of us said anything for a bit, and then I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed
to know.

“That girl outside Market … is she, like, part of your group?”

“Not really.” He ran his hand along the fence. “She’s just this girl I’ve hung out
with a few times.”

“Oh.”
So this wasn’t the first time.
Ouch.

He looked at me and his voice softened. “She’s not … I mean … you know. It’s nothing.”

Relief. Crazy, ridiculous relief flooded through me. Which meant I needed to leave,
just get back to Chris and Dylan as fast as I could because it shouldn’t have mattered
who he dated. I began edging away, but there was a faint train horn in the distance,
and Josh beckoned me closer.

“Come here,” he said.

I followed him over to the train tracks. “Is this the part where you tie me to the
tracks like in those old cartoons?”

He shook his head. “You have one twisted mind, Evans.”

I smiled a little, and he leaned over and reached for my hand. “Check this out.”

His skin was warm, and one of his fingers had a Band-Aid wrapped around it. I wanted
to know why—like if he’d cut himself or did he have a blister or what? Somehow it
mattered.

He put my hand against the metal rail. “Feel that?”

We were only touching for a few seconds, but there was a hum in the pit of my stomach.
In the spaces between my ribs. At the tips of my ears.

The metal shivered under my fingers, vibrating from the weight of the train. “Yeah.”

The train sounded its horn again, and the vibrations got stronger as the wheels moved
closer. Josh looked in the direction it was coming from, his whole body tense.

“This is the part where we move far away,” I said, my voice tight.

But we didn’t. In the moonlight, I could see the shadows under his eyes, the way he
looked ready to spring onto the tracks.

“Josh, you’re freaking me out.”

Maybe I was panicking, I didn’t know, but I hated the way he looked—like he’d gone
far away and I wouldn’t be able to reach him. Not then, not ever. I grabbed his arm,
and he looked at me, confused, like he’d forgotten I was there.

“I used to jump these all the time. Remember, I told you?” he said.

I nodded.

His eyes slid to the tracks. “The key is to be ready. You step back and let the first
couple of cars go by, get the rhythm. Spot an open boxcar with your name on it. Getting
in or falling on your ass—it all happens in a matter of seconds.”

I could feel the train in my chest and thought about how dying on these tracks would
be the epitome of a small-town death.

“I like the part where you said we step back. And I hate to break it to you, but you’re
not jumping this train tonight.”

Or ever. What the hell was he thinking?

Josh stood up as the train’s headlight came into view. “Give me a little credit, Sky.
I’m not gonna try to do it in the dark. Even with two legs, that’d be hard as hell.”

I decided to table this discussion for later. Because it was sounding to me like he
intended to try it when it wasn’t dark—and there was no way that would end well for
him.

He put an arm across me as we stepped back, like you do with a passenger when you’re
driving and you suddenly hit the brakes. The train wasn’t that fast—but way too fast
to hitch a ride on. It chugged by, a monstrous mass of creaking, rusted metal with
open boxcars like dark mouths that swallowed the night as they whipped by.

Josh closed his eyes, turned his face toward the wind the train had churned up. I
watched him, my eyes tracing his jaw, the bridge of his nose, his chin.

His lips.

He almost looked at peace. Almost. I tore my gaze away from him, stared at the train.
My body was suddenly this alive, buzzing thing I had no control over anymore. Maybe
I was in as much danger of jumping as he was. For a second, it felt like anything
could happen. Anything.

The last of the boxcars passed us, leaving a perfect, complete silence. Josh turned
to me. “If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you be?”

I opened my mouth to say San Francisco or maybe Madrid—somewhere exotic. But what
came out was, “Here. Right here.”

I looked at him, surprised. He held my eyes for a minute, then looked in the direction
the train was going.

“Me too.”

Fuck
, I thought. Just that—
fuck.

chapter eighteen

It was Florence Nightingale syndrome—it had to be. That’s the only explanation for
why I was suddenly obsessed with Josh Mitchell. Like in
A Farewell to Arms
, I was a nurse falling for her patient. Obviously I wasn’t Josh’s nurse or whatever
(insert crude Dylan joke about “playing doctor”), but ever since graduation, I felt
like I’d been trying to take care of him. Like inviting him to Leo’s or going after
him the night of the Fourth. But I was supposed to be with a slightly geeky, yet totally
adorable San Franciscan who loved art and wanted to use words like
chiaroscuro
and
proletariat
and
existentialism
. Josh was the past, and all I’d ever cared about was the future. And, anyway, that
didn’t matter because he was probably going back to his base at the end of the summer,
and I was going to school.