Where Silence Gathers (7 page)

Eight

SAUL. FRANKLIN. SWAN LAKE.
Every time, the computer rejects my words. I sit in a booth in the diner, inhaling the scents of grease and sweat while I try to unlock my father's secrets. The weekend has come and gone and still I haven't been able to find the right word.

Loretta Roan—Georgie's mom—walks over, glowering. She has big platinum curls, staggeringly red lipstick, and one too many buttons undone. There's no mystery as to where Georgie gets her flair. “Anything besides the coffee, darlin'?” she asks.
Shouldn't you be in school?
her tone really asks. I shake my head. After a long look, she moves to pour the town pastor another cup. I take a drink from my own mug and my lip catches on the chink of missing glass. It seems like everything in this town is either chipping, rusting, or breaking.

The front door opens and a gust of wind blows a stack of napkins off the long counter. A moment later someone slides into the seat across from me. Her perfume tips me off before her voice does. “Considering there aren't any mines to work in anymore, graduating high school is more necessary than it used to be.”

“Not now, Georgie.”

“When, then? When it's too late? When you finally decide to get your head out of your ass?” She smacks the table to get my attention. “I'm not Briana. I'm not going to bake you cookies and tell you nicely that you're ruining your life.”

“I'm not—”

“Sorry, not in the mood to listen to bullshit right now. We can finish this later. Come on. A bunch of us are going to the lake. Some of the guys are going to build a bonfire. Should be fun, right? Oh, and we already called Saul and Missy.” Georgie scoots out of the booth, adding “Hey, Mom” as Loretta hurries by. She lifts her coffee pot in a quick greeting.

There's only one reason we build bonfires in Franklin. “The last time I got drunk, Saul gave me the job of cleaning our attic. No thanks.”

“Good. Someone has to drive me home. Which reminds me, we're taking your car, since mine conked out again and Briana's brother stole hers. Now get up.”

Sighing, I allow Georgie to pull me out of the booth. I grab the laptop, still thinking of possible passwords, and follow her to my car. Briana is already sitting in the passenger seat, reading a book. They must have walked here from school. Georgie steals the keys out of my hand and sashays to the driver's side. As she opens the door Briana lifts her head. That bright smile stretches across her face, blinding me, and Shame squeezes my shoulder while I get in the backseat. His touch makes me remember how I left her the other night.

“Hey, you,” Briana says, twisting, completely unaware. “I brought your jacket. You forgot it at my house.” She tosses it to me.

Alexandra
.

Neither of my friends notices me stiffen. My grip makes the jacket bunch up. Georgie starts the car, and we leave the diner behind.

“Are you sure you want to go tonight?” Briana asks, marking her page with her finger as we squeal down Main Street. Really, the town's only street. “I mean, we don't have to. We could just stay in and make a—”

Georgie snorts. “As if. We're going to have fun tonight, even if I have to force you guys. Plus, I need someone to protect me from Billy. He's been more persistent than usual.” She grimaces. The rest of the way to the lake, she talks about L.A. and how annoying the boy from school is. Briana nods and makes noises of agreement and I watch the world pass us by.

Then we're bumping down a back road, and water glints in the distance. “Ready, girls?” Georgie demands, practically bouncing. She's pulling my jacket onto her bony shoulders. A group of kids are already here, teeth glinting in the twilight as they laugh and talk and pretend that this life is enough for all of us. The bonfire reaches for the sky with quivering orange fingers.

We get out. I wrap my arms around myself. The Bentley twins wave at us. Rachel Porter stands beside them, the violet streaks in her hair glinting in the firelight. A muscle tightens in Briana's jaw, and when she leaves to talk to her, she's followed by Apprehension and Longing.

Georgie must have disappeared without my realizing it, because a few seconds later she hurries back and puts a beer in my hand. She ignores my protests as she abandons me again. Billy Jenkins stands by the flames and greets her with a wide grin. I don't need to see her face to know she's grinning back. Protect her, indeed.

“Hey, Alex.”

A shadow falls over me, and I tense before seeing who it is. “Oh, Mark. I didn't know you were in town.” My fists unclench.

Georgie's cousin smiles. He graduated from Franklin High a year ago, but like most people from this town, he seems unable to leave it completely. He towers over me, and my neck begins to hurt from looking up. Mark has the friendliest face, though. I don't think I've ever seen him frown.

“Just for the night,” he replies, running a hand through his thick curls. “Georgie invited me. How have you been?”

“Fine,” I lie. “And how are classes at Green River going? Is Andrew still your advisor?”

“Classes are great, and yeah, Andrew is the best. Just one more year to go and I'll have my degree. I'm actually thinking of moving back up here and—”

“Mark! Get over here!” Georgie, of course. Mark turns toward her and holds up one finger.

But I'm already retreating. “Actually, go ahead. I'm going to get another drink.”

“Are you sure?” A wrinkle deepens in his forehead. “I mean, we can talk. I haven't seen you in a while, and I was hoping we could catch up.”

“Find me later,” I say. Before he can say anything else, I slip away.

Someone else calls my name, and I just wave. Blue coolers rest by the water. Faith Carson—the pastor's daughter—lifts the lid and digs out a bottle. Georgie is surrounded, and her hands move as she talks animatedly. Briana is off to the side, a quieter force, but still a part of the hum in the air. Even though they have secret pains like Francis and unfulfilled dreams, they manage to act as if it's okay. They can exist with the shadows.

But how do you exist in the darkness?

Smoke curls through the sky. Resentment materializes at my side and wraps his arm around me. “How's the pity party going?” He squeezes. I don't shake him off or respond; I just pop the lid of my beer and take a long swig. A bitter taste greets my tongue. The Emotion says something else that I don't hear, and then I'm alone with his lingering essence and the contents of all those coolers. An antidote to the poison of the past.

Georgie will have to get another designated driver. Tossing aside the empty beer can, I walk to the coolers and get another one. The ice numbs my fingertips. Too bad it can't numb the rest of me. I glance around and grab another beer for good measure, then slip away to the edge of the beach. I lean my back against a tree and watch the bonfire. It grows brighter and bigger when Billy adds more wood, and more cars pull up, their headlights sweeping across the lake. I drown my sorrows. Laughter drifts through the air. Marty Paulson suddenly leans over to puke, and Faith shrieks.

Time loses meaning. Maybe it's a minute, maybe it's an hour. I pull some blades of green-brown grass out of the ground and watch the breeze carry them away, thinking about how easy it is for something to be firmly rooted one moment and gone the next.

“Alex! Where's Alex?”

Briana's voice. She'll be looking for me. Letting out a loud belch, I haul myself up. It's dark now. How did that happen? I start to make my way toward her. Halfway to the bonfire, though, I stumble and fall. Briana calls my name again, but I just roll over. The damp sand clings to me. For a few moments I stare up at the starless sky, tapping my fingers against my chest so some part of me is still moving. Clouds drift in front of the moon. I wonder if Nate Foster is looking at the same black expanse.

A face fills my vision. It takes me a moment to recognize it in the dim. When I do, though, my heart beats harder and faster. “Oh. You again.”

“Hello, Alex.”

The sound of his voice lurches me into motion. We've only spoken once, but I know what's coming. He'll start talking about Nate Foster, and mercy, and letting things go when all I'm capable of is holding on tight. I push myself up, swearing, and stumble through the trees to escape him.

He follows me effortlessly. “Alex. Alex, stop.”

Briana calls my name again, though her voice is fainter. My breathing becomes ragged and my head swims, and part of me realizes it's fruitless to try outrunning a creature that isn't human. That doesn't stop me from trying. But I'm not holding my liquor too well tonight, and soon I'm having trouble remembering why I should be avoiding Forgiveness in the first place. He isn't even attempting to stop me anymore. Instead he just keeps up with my pace, a silent presence.

“Help me,” I snap after a while, tripping over a branch. Forgiveness doesn't reach for my arm, but I move away as if he has.

“Help you with what?” he asks finally.

Pine needles crunch underfoot. “To find it.” I stop in a circle of trees and look up again, straining to see in the faint moonlight.

“Find what, Alex?”

Forgiveness is next to me now, so close I can feel the temperature of his skin: warm, like the lake after the sun has reached inside the depths with its bright fingers. I hate how this creature says my name. Hate it, and like it.

“The damn rocket!” I snarl at his exquisite features. “What else?”

The Choice doesn't answer, and I don't wait for one. I'm whirling again, rushing through the night, trying to forget and remember at the same time. Then the tree line suddenly breaks and we're on the edge of a playground. My chest heaves and I stare at the red plastic slide. A memory flashes, an image of Mom waiting for me at the bottom.
Come on, honey. I promise I'll catch you.

I throw up.

Gentle hands hold my hair back while I cough and gag. Forgiveness is careful, so careful, not to actually have contact with any other part of me. Shuddering, I make my way to the swings and settle on one. The chains whine.

“Why don't you just touch me?” I sigh, resting my forehead against the cold links. I close my eyes again. Everything would be so much easier if the choice was just taken from me.

“You know why.” Forgiveness surprises me by sitting in the other swing. It's an odd sight, such an unearthly being doing something as mundane as swinging.

At this, I meet his gaze. Maybe it's the beer, or maybe it's the part of me that likes to dangle off bridges and hold guns, but I hear myself saying, “I think you want to.”

“I think you're drunk.”

Nothing seems to rattle him. I push my feet against the ground to make the swing sway. The cries of the rust-covered chains are the only sound between us. “If you're not going to help me, then leave,” I growl when the silence becomes too loud.

Forgiveness angles his body toward me, and now his expression isn't so detached; his dark eyes burn and brand my soul. I wait, thinking I've finally gotten to him, but after a moment he only tilts his head back and focuses on the struggling moon.

It's strange to think that all this time, Revenge was my only companion while someone else waited on the sidelines for a weakness to show. Now that Nate Foster has been released, and I finally have a chance to right the wrong that was done to my family six years ago, that weakness has revealed itself. Forgiveness is water through a crack in a dam, the sensation of fear on a stage when all the lights are shining down, a beam succumbing to all the earth's weight in the mines. I open my mouth to once again tell him to get out of my life—

“Alex.” There's something different about his tone, a razorlike edge when before it was soft as a cloud. Tensing, I follow his gaze to the road. A car is parked by the curb, lights and engine off. There are abandoned cars all over Franklin; that's not what's unusual. What's unusual is the fact that there's someone sitting behind the wheel, a dark silhouette turned toward us.

Whoever it is, they must see that I know I'm no longer alone. Without warning, the engine roars, the lights flare, and the tires squeal. I stand and watched the taillights disappear—the two glowing red squares look like angry, accusing eyes. It reminds me of what happened on the road with the Taurus. I shiver, rubbing my arms. Within seconds, the car is gone.

There's an irritating, flicking sensation at the back of my mind. That silhouette seemed so familiar …

“Do you know who that was?” Forgiveness asks.

I keep staring at the empty road. Unease stirs in the pit of my stomach. How much did they see? To anyone else, my conversation with Forgiveness would have looked like I was talking to air. This town is full of crazy people; I'm not worried about being locked away. But once again I think of the Taurus from days ago, the shattering mirror. These aren't coincidences. Someone is watching me.

Someone knows.

Nine

“Oh, say can you see! By the dawn's early light!”

“Just get in the car, Georgie,” Briana sighs. Together, she and Mark lower our friend into the backseat. Georgie nearly stumbles into him during the process. I would offer to help except I'm not entirely sober myself just yet, so I get into the passenger side and shut the door.

“What so proudly we hailed at … something, something!” Georgie hiccups and leans against the window. Rolling her eyes, Briana digs into Georgie's pockets for the keys, her arms jutting at awkward angles to reach them.

“If you wanted to get in my pants, all you needed to do was ask,” Georgie slurs. Ignoring this, Briana gets in. She's our designated driver tonight, since she only had half a beer. Smart and good to a fault, that's our Briana.

Mark is still in the back, helping Georgie lie down. His eyes meet mine. “Are you all right?” he asks.

“Fine.” I force a smile.

“Well, if you need anything, call me. Okay?”

“We will, Mark,” Briana says. After another moment of hesitation, Mark eases out and shuts the door. Then he stands back, hands shoved in his pockets. As Briana settles behind the wheel, she lets out a breath. Her bangs lift and fall. “So, did you have fun?”

The engine comes to life and Briana smiles at me, but it looks strained. When I hesitate, she adds, “You weren't around for most of the night. Did you meet up with someone in the woods?”

We reverse, and then we're heading home. Mark disappears into the darkness. Listening to us, Georgie giggles. She's always been a happy drunk. “Rendezvous in the woods, huh? Go, Alex! Living life to the fullest. Was it Mark? He was really excited to see you, you know.”

Neither of us responds, and Georgie starts singing again, drowning out Elvis. Even drunk, she has a nice voice. We don't speak for the rest of the way, me because I'm thinking about that silhouette watching me and Briana because silence is more natural to her. Then my apartment is towering over us, blocking the moon, and stillness fills the small space. The engine idles and Briana leans across me to open the door. Good thing, since I would probably have trouble with the handle. “We'll pick you up tomorrow,” she says, giving me a meaningful look.
No arguments
, it says.

I flap my hand at her. “Yeah, yeah. Just don't let your brother touch my car. Love you, nerd. Later, skank.”

Georgie blinks, trying to look indignant and failing. “I don't know what you're talking about,” she slurs.

“Tell that to Billy Jenkins.” I slam the door before she can come up with a response. Briana gives me one last wave. Georgie has her face flattened against the window, smearing the glass with her saliva as she tries to convince both of us she doesn't like Billy. The taillights vanish when they turn the corner.

Quiet.

Something crashes in the distance. The sound echoes as I whirl to face it. One of the garbage cans in the alley is tipped over, its insides spilling out onto the ground. The light at the top of the pole flickers. My heart skips a beat and I remember shattering plastic and lurking shadows.

Fear is already beside me, of course, his elbow brushing mine. “What kind of person are you?” he muses, head tilted. “Are you the type to go look for the source of that noise … or will you run?”

He doesn't know me very well.

A hand touches my back as I stalk toward the trash cans, and resolution leaks through the dread. Still, I forget to breathe while I dare to peek around the corner … and catch sight of a tail. Relief is in the sound of my exhale. I step into the alley.

In another life, it must have been a lab. In this one, its fur is so matted and full of forest debris that it's nearly unrecognizable. “Well, you're not a raccoon,” I mutter. The dog freezes. It raises its eyes and spots me, a glob of drool falling out of the corner of its mouth. Ribs stick out beneath its once-brown fur. Before I can do anything, the dog bolts. I stand there and watch it vanish into some bushes. The quivering leaves are the only proof that it was real.

Just then, a breeze stirs my hair. A familiar scent of mint encircles me. I look around, searching for Forgiveness, until I realize that it's coming from me. From my skin and clothes.

I need to wash his smell off. Need to wash off that brief moment of vulnerability on the swings. Glancing around—for once I'm alone, no Emotions, no mysterious strangers—I shoulder my bag and hurry around the back. The stairs shudder loudly under my weight, but Angus doesn't appear in the window; it must be later than I thought.

Inside, there's a note taped to the mirror that hangs above our shoes.
Missed you. Dinner is in the fridge.
I touch the scribbled words with my fingers, assuring myself that these are real, too. I haven't ruined everything. Not yet. I can still turn back if I choose to.

Choices. Revenge. Forgiveness.

I find my way through the darkness and shut myself into the bathroom. Seconds later steam fills the air and I climb into the ancient tub. Soap runs down my body and I scrub so hard my skin might come off. The hot water pounds onto every part of me and it isn't enough. Forgiveness haunts my thoughts, so much that there's not enough room for Revenge or Nate Foster. I won't let this happen. I can't.

I'm doing this for you.

“No. I'm doing this for you,” I whisper, closing my eyes. There's no answer, so I turn the water off, wrap myself in a towel, and tiptoe to my room. Uncle Saul snores so loud it's a wonder the walls don't tremble.

As soon as I open my bedroom door, I'm aware of a distinct scent of chocolate in the air. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust, and then I see him, lying on my bed in a slant of moonlight. Wearily I tighten my grip on the towel. “You missed one hell of a party,” I say.

“I wasn't in the mood tonight.”

There's something strange about his voice, something different. For that matter, he's never been in my room before. Growing up, it was always one of his boundaries, another unspoken rule. Yet here he is, lying there as if it's the only place he wants to be.

Instead of asking him about this, I ask instead, “Since when are you not in the mood for a party?” I open the folding closet door and step behind it. Revenge doesn't answer. Once I'm wearing a big T-shirt and some underwear, I step out again. He hasn't moved. He's just staring up at the ceiling, hands folded beneath his head. His profile is sharp and luminescent, beautiful in all its strange solemnity. I frown. “What's up with you?”

Again, no response. Sighing, I ease into the space beside him, careful not to brush his arm. The springs in the mattress squeak. For a few minutes we simply exist. There's a stain in the upper right-hand corner of my room. I focus on it, wonder when it happened. It's round, yellow. Water leaking through the roof, maybe? I've never noticed it before. I tap my finger against my thigh, counting the seconds. No, not the seconds. Though there's a breath between us, I can feel it, steady as the town clock.

“If you're not human, why do you have a heartbeat?” I whisper, turning on my side to face him.

Revenge turns, too. He frowns as if he's never thought about it before. His eyes are still clouded with thought. “I don't know.” He finally concentrates on me. “Did you go tonight?”

Did I go to Nate Foster's, he means. I swallow, the sound audible. “No.”

“Did you … did you see him?”

There's an unexpected shadow of uncertainty to his voice, and I know he means Forgiveness now. Maybe that's why I lie. “No.”

My best friend closes his eyes. Yearning overtakes me. There's so much unspoken, so much undone. I should be used to it, because that's the way it's always been with us. This time I want to tell Revenge that everything is about to change. But he already knows that. Change is inevitable. So all I say is, “Do you remember when I was thirteen and I broke my arm?”

“Yes.” He turns his head to look at me again.

I smile at him. “It was on the first anniversary of the accident. I climbed that tree because I wanted to escape everything. Maybe some irrational part of me wanted to just disappear into the sky. Missy and Saul kept telling me to stay on the ground, that it was dangerous. You didn't. You just stood there and watched me go higher and higher. Maybe it was because you didn't care, or because you can't interfere with human affairs. But I don't think so. I think you hoped I would reach the sky, too.”

Another silence gathers. “What made you think of that?” he asks eventually. He doesn't confirm or deny it.

The truth? Being with Forgiveness. It has to be his essence getting to me, because when I'm around him, all I want to do is be. Be with the people I love, be better, be more than what I am or will be. I want to touch the sky again, after all these years.

It's my turn to evade. Rather than answering his question, I tuck my hand under my chin and grapple for the covers. Tug them over me. “I'll see you tomorrow, Revenge.”

The heat of his breath—chocolaty, of course—thaws the ice of my heart as he murmurs, “See you tomorrow, Alex.”

After a few minutes, my eyelashes turn to steel, so heavy they won't stay open. I dare to lean closer to Revenge … and I pretend. Pretend that he's a normal boy, that I'm a normal girl. It won't last, but nothing ever lasts. For now, it's enough.

He doesn't move away.

My car struggles to awaken.

I turn the key in the ignition again, and this time the engine catches. As it growls into the morning, I don't let myself look toward the school doors. Briana and Georgie have no idea that I'm leaving. They'll be waiting for me at lunch.

A sharp pain pierces my chest, as though someone has shoved a shard of glass into my heart, and Regret looms in the rearview mirror. My eyes meet his. We don't exchange a word, but we understand each other. His touch elicits images of others: a girl clutching a positive pregnancy test, a man standing over a grave, a boy clutching a paper with an
F
on it. I'm alone, but I'm not alone in this. I clench my jaw and guide the car onto the county toad that will take me to Green River.

Andrew is on his phone when I get to his office. He startles at the sight of me in the doorway. “Yes, I'll have them to you by this afternoon,” he says, waving me in. He tugs at his necktie. “Uh-huh. Yes, I have it.”

There's a clatter when he puts the phone back into the cradle. The moment he's finished I march up to his desk and slap the flash drive down. “I need to know what's on this,” I say.

“What's … ” Andrew frowns. He adjusts his glasses and leans forward. I'm watching his face carefully, and he's always been a horrible liar. First, recognition flickers in his gaze. Then panic. The office floods with Emotions. “What—” Andrew begins, rising. Before he can touch it, I grab the flash drive again.

“It's Dad's. I found it in the pocket of the shirt he was wearing on the day he died.”

Silence. Andrew's breathing changes, and he looks over his shoulder as if someone might be pressed to the window, peering inside at us. But there's only the peaceful oak tree and its swaying leaves, and the empty road beyond.

“Let's go outside,” he says finally, gesturing for me to follow him. He walks past me to the door.

I stay where I am. “No, I want answers, and I know you have them. You were his best friend. He told you everything.”

Andrew's eyes dart to the hallway. I've never seen him so unsettled. No, not unsettled.
Scared
. He lowers his voice and says through his teeth, “Not here, Alex.”

“Why not? What are you afraid o
f
?” I cock my eyebrow challengingly. Something tells me I'm more liable to get answers in here, where he's so unnerved, than wherever he wants to go.

As an answer, Andrew opens the door wider. “I don't know why Will had that or what's on it,” he says. “But I can find out.” He holds out his free hand. His eyes are almost manic in their desperation.

Lies
, a voice in my head whispers. Faltering, I take a step back. There's a sour taste in my mouth.
This is Andrew
, another voice protests.
Your dad loved him. Your dad trusted him
. It's true. This is my godfather. This is the man who helped me with my math last year when I was flunking the class. Not that grades matter now.

Yet my instincts are telling me that something isn't right here. “I should get back,” I hear myself say.

“Alex—”

Suddenly it clicks. I see it. And I wonder how I ever missed it. “It was you,” I whisper. Time stops.

Andrew is still holding his hand out, but now it seems less for the flash drive and more to stop me from going. “What?” he asks. Confusion links her arm through his and shares his puzzled look.

The shard of glass is still there, wedged into the flesh of my heart. This truth drives it in deeper. I look my father's best friend in the eye and say, my voice hard, “You were watching me last night. On the playground.”

Surprise pops into the room, joining the others. Andrew continues to stare at me. Five seconds tick by. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. After a pause that feels like years, Andrew lowers his hand to his side. He must have gotten a manicure recently, because they're perfectly trimmed and filed. Andrew has a touch of OCD when it comes to his appearance. And his things. Somehow, remembering these tiny details makes the moment hurt even more.

I keep waiting for him to answer. When he does, the words are weak. “I … I'm trying to protect you.”

A few more second pass while I absorb this. He's not even going to deny it. I'm used to lying to people … but I'm not used to them lying to me. I feel what they must feel, a feeble hope for more, of a reasonable explanation for this betrayal.