Instructions for the End of the World (15 page)

I hear Nic following after me, but I'm in too good a mood to talk to her right now. I'm thinking instead about which swimsuit to wear. There's the one Dad approves of, a navy blue one-piece I wore to swim team last summer and that is all worn out in the butt from sitting on the edge of the pool, and then my black one, and then there's the new one he doesn't know about, which I bought with my own birthday money, the little yellow string bikini with the white beads at the ends of the strings. Of course I will wear it. I'm just a little worried about Nicole later telling Dad I wore it in front of guys.

But seriously? If there was ever a time and place for that bikini, this is it.

Unlike Nicole, I actually have a chest. Like a real, C-cup chest that guys notice. I put on the bikini with a pair of cutoff shorts and am walking past Nic's bedroom when she comes out wearing her own stupid swim team suit from last year. It makes her look like a ten-year-old girl, flat as a pancake.

“What?” she says when I grimace.

“Don't you have anything else?”

“No, what's wrong with this?”

I shrug. “Nothing.”

She goes back in and puts on a tank top and shorts over it. Then I watch her worrying over her hair in the mirror, and I realize that I never see Nicole fixing her hair. Half the time she either braids it or puts it in a ponytail while walking to her next task, not even looking to see if she's done the job right. I seriously don't understand how she can care so little about her appearance.

Except now she does.

A few minutes later we all cram ourselves into the nasty old van. I am sitting in the backseat with Kiva, who, if I'm being completely honest, I will admit I have a little thing for. We kissed a tiny bit at the Sadhana party, and it was pretty awesome, but that was all. I haven't seen him much since then, and never alone.

The seats are stained and scratchy, and there's a smell like an old skunk. I search for a normal seatbelt, but there is just one of those lap-style ones, so I put it on and try to act like I'm cool with all of this. We are rolling through the woods to the main road when Kiva lights up a joint and takes a long hit on it, then offers it to me.

Okay, so I've never smoked anything before. Not even a cigarette. Someone offered me a hit at the party, but I waved it away like I saw another girl do, and no one seemed to care. This time feels different, more important. The smell is weird, but I don't want to start off looking like a dork before the fun has even gotten started. There's no denying that Kiva is cute, with wavy, dark-blond hair that hangs to his shoulders, and a dark tan, and pale blue eyes. He told me before that he's sixteen, so only two years older than me, definitely within reach.

So I take the joint and put it to my lips, trying to imitate what he did. Then I am coughing uncontrollably, my throat burning, my eyes watering.

Nicole looks over her shoulder at me with the same blank expression she wears when deciding whether she's going to shoot an animal.

WOLF

I reach back and take the joint from Nicole's little sister while she's struggling to catch her breath. I put it out and stick it in the side door, because the last thing we need is to get pulled over with a van full of pot smoke, and also I'm sure our guests aren't big stoners.

“Hey, give it back,” Kiva says.

“Not while we're driving, idiot.”

“Okay, Grandma,” he shoots back at me.

Kiva and I have never been all that close, but I've known him for as long as I can remember, and in that way he feels like a brother. He can be impulsive and dumb, but he's mostly harmless, and I don't want to see him in trouble.

I'm painfully aware of Nicole beside me, her brown legs smooth in the summer light, her thin arm close enough for me to brush against. Her hands, resting in her lap, are long and capable, with thin, squared-off fingers. Working hands, but attractive ones. I wonder if her palms are rough or soft, and I don't know which I'd hope for. Either would be perfect I think.

Up front Laurel and Pauly are arguing over the music on the radio, something about who the singer is, and I stare out the window at the passing landscape to wonder how I got here. I hadn't intended to spend the day with this group, but when Laurel said they were going to stop and invite Nicole and her sister along, I changed my mind. She could see straight through me, as if she knew I'd come along when she mentioned Nicole.

It's going to be over a hundred degrees today, so there isn't much else we can do besides swim. Even working on the cabin in the forest shade would be miserable, and I feel a lightness in my chest that I haven't felt in a long time. I'm glad to be here with my friends, on this sweltering day, hurtling toward possibilities. I feel young, or maybe youthful, instead of impossibly ancient.

We reach the lake and park along the side of the road to avoid paying the parking fee. It's a Thursday afternoon, but still there are quite a few people at the best-known beaches, so we grab our stuff and hike through the woods for a quarter mile to reach a hidden cove few people know about. It's partly shaded, a little beach barely emerging from the woods before plunging into cold, deep water, perfect for a day like this.

I carry the food basket, since I was responsible for packing it. Up ahead, Pauly has the cooler and everyone else has towels and blankets and backpacks. Nicole sticks close to me, and her silence is comfortable. I like that she doesn't try to make small talk while the rest of the group chatters away on the trail ahead of us.

There are lots of questions I want to ask her, but right now we're all hot and breathing hard from the uneven up- and downhill trail.

When we reach the beach, I'm happy we're the only ones there. We haven't even finished putting all the stuff down before Kiva has pulled off his shirt and jumped howling into the water. Nicole's little sister, looking precocious in a yellow bikini, follows him.

I get the glass bottle of kombucha out of Pauly's cooler and bring it to Nicole, who is spreading her towel out on the sand. She peers at it for a moment before taking it and drinking, then makes a face when she's done.

“That's not tea,” she says.

“It's kombucha. Sorry, I should have mentioned. I've been making it all summer. Everyone at the village thinks it has healing powers.”

“It's
what
?”

“It's a fermented drink made with this thing that's like a mushroom?”

She blinks, frowns.

“Don't worry, it's nothing dangerous. Just sort of a fizzy tea drink. There's water, too, if you want some.”

I take a long drink myself and then offer the bottle back to her. She takes another drink, tentative at first.

“It takes some getting used to, I know.”

She smiles then, barely. “It's not terrible.”

Laurel has stripped down to a pale green crocheted bikini and stops beside us. “Coming in the water?”

“I will in a few,” I say.

Nicole shrugs. “I think I'm going to check out those rocks first,” she says, nodding at the opposite side of the cove, where rocks jut out of the water below a low cliff and a shallow cave.

“C'mon,” I say. “I'll show you.”

I'm eager to get away from Laurel and the wary look I can see in her eyes. Even though we've never dated, never been a couple, I know she still feels a little possessive of me. Like she doesn't want me but no one else is allowed to have me, either.

“Suit yourselves,” she says, then turns and walks to the water's edge, where she pauses for a moment before jumping in.

Everyone is in the water by the time we make our way across the beach and over the rocky area to the cave. “When I was a kid and we came here, I used to pretend I was a caveman living in prehistoric times,” I say.

“How far back does this go?” she asks as we peer into the darkness.

“Not far. I come here and camp every once in a while. It's so quiet out here at night.”

Just then, Pauly yells and does a cannonball into the water, and the girls screech at getting splashed.

“Not quiet now,” she says.

“When I heard you were invited, I figured I should come along to save you from the obnoxiousness.”

“Do I look like I need saving?”

“No.”

“What makes you think I would have even come along if you hadn't been with them?”

I look over at her then to see if she's serious, and she smiles, almost shyly, as if flirting is a thing she's never done before.

“I haven't seen your parents around,” I say. “Will they mind you being gone when they get back?”

Her expression goes tense. “No, they won't mind.”

“Are you sure?”

I don't want her dad getting pissed and not letting her come around us at all.

She sighs and sits down on the edge of the rocks near the water, her feet dangling. I sit down next to her.

“If I tell you something, can you keep it to yourself?”

“Sure.”

She's quiet for long enough that I think maybe she's not going to tell me after all. I watch her as she stares out at the kids in the lake, and finally she speaks.

“My parents are gone, and I don't know when they're coming back. I'm not supposed to tell anyone, but…”

“But?”

“It's really hard. There's, like, no water in the house, and we're running out of food, and we have no easy way to get to the store, and I just hate not being able to talk about it to anyone.”

“I thought you were going to call a plumber about the pipe.”

She shakes her head. “Not enough money to pay one. I sort of stopped the leak with a rag in a glass jar sealing off the pipe, and a bunch of duct tape holding it in place. But I have to re-do it every day.”

“I can help. I mean, maybe I can fix the water problem, or else I'll know someone who can.”

“No, I can't let anyone know we're there alone.”

“We'll make something up to cover for you.”

She sighs again. “I'm tired of lying to people, too.”

“I can take you to the store. I can borrow someone's car, at least. Will that help?”

She looks at me, her brow furrowed, but she doesn't look as stressed out. “Yeah, thanks.”

I wish we were here alone, so I could reach out and touch her. Maybe kiss her. Maybe more.

I definitely want to do more than kiss her. I've been thinking about it constantly since our swim in the Yuba River. Memories of her body, wet, glinting in the sun, moving so easily in the water, haunt me. I'm just not sure she'd ever want me to kiss her or touch her. And I mostly don't want to scare her away. I want to keep her near, so I can get to know her better, so this can comfortably become something more.

“Where did your parents go?”

“I don't know. My mom got mad and left, and my dad went to find her.”

“So you don't know when he's coming back?”

She shakes her head, her expression one I can't read.

“Doesn't he call you or anything?”

“Telephones aren't really his thing.”

“Too convenient?”

“Something like that.” She picks up a stone and weighs it in the palm of her hands. “He wants to see that we can survive without his help.”

“Survive what?”

“Anything. Everything.”

“Like, Armageddon?”

She smiles at this, but her expression is somehow grim too. “Maybe.”

“Is your dad one of those survivalist types?”

“He prefers to be called a prepper.”

“A what?”

“You know, like, preparing for the worst—prepping. I guess the survivalist label has gotten too much negative press or something.”

“So that's why you hunt, and live in the middle of nowhere?”

“You live in the middle of nowhere, too.”

“I live at a spiritual center my mother was one of the founding members of. They chose to buy land out here because it was beautiful and cheap and they thought it was conducive to spiritual reflection.” I say all this without quite meaning to sound serious, but Nicole nods gravely, staring straight ahead.

“My dad's plan is to turn the property into a sort of off-the-grid fortress. He's even going to build a bunker.”

“In case of nuclear war?”

“It could be used for any disaster.”

“Do you believe in all that doomsday stuff?”

She shrugs. “We all have to die somehow, right?”

“For most of us it'll be when we're old, gray, and lying in bed.”

“And the zombies climb through the window.”

I laugh and look over at her to see if she's joking. She flashes a wry smile.

“So your dad has taught you how to survive in the wilderness? That's pretty useful, right?”

“Yeah. I mean, it is, but it's harder than I thought it would be. I feel pretty stupid with the house falling apart around me.”

“That house was falling down long before you got there, so you don't have to take credit.”

“Thanks. That makes me feel all better.”

“I'm kind of handy with a hammer and nails, if you'd like some help doing repairs.”

She glanced over at me, her expression wary. “Why would you want to help?”

“Why not?”

She says nothing to that.

“You know, I could use an extra pair of hands at my tree house for a few things, too. Maybe we could do a work trade.”

“Maybe.”

“How about I come over tomorrow and see what you're dealing with?”

She shrugs. “If you want to.”

I look out at the lake, where the others are splashing each other, yelling and laughing, in some kind of boys-against-girls game. As if she can sense being watched, Laurel looks up at us then, and something about her expression shifts. Her mouth is still smiling, but her eyes aren't.

Nicole must have seen the same thing, because she asks, “Are you and Laurel, like, exes or something?”