Chapter Thirteen
THIRTEEN
The rain picks up first. It pounds the tent in a flurry of punches, one blow after the next.
Then the wind kicks in, screaming through the trees and sending the tent fluttering like a broken kite.
If there weren’t five of you sitting on its floor, your flimsy shelter would be twenty feet up a tree right now.
The lightning too is like nothing you’ve ever seen.
It strobes in extended flashes, making any movements inside look like stop-motion animation.
In the midst of everything, you are all speechless.
There is no time to argue anymore; only time to huddle together and try not to die.
It seems so easy, all of a sudden, to be killed by an indifferent world.
And in this moment, you wonder how anyone is still alive.
Outside, you hear the cracking of what sounds like a tree limb, and you brace for the impact you’re sure is coming.
“Teen’s Head Crushed by an Enormous Branch,” the headline will read.
“He Tried to Get Better at Life, and Life Destroyed Him with a Falling Tree.” You hear it crash to the ground somewhere else that’s not your body.
You close your eyes then, and you try your best to disappear.
And you keep your eyes closed. You’re not sure how long.
Somebody is yelling. Someone else is crying.
You can’t tell the voices apart. You only know that when the rain finally starts to ease up, your face is hot and covered in sweat.
And you feel someone’s fingers gently pushing your hair around on the back of your head.
“I think it’s okay,” says Diana. “Not so bad, actually.”
Her voice is soft. You turn around, and her face is close to yours.
“What are you talking about?” you ask.
Your body is pulsing with adrenaline.
“Your cut.”
You had forgotten about the cut, but now that she’s dabbing at it with a T-shirt, you can feel the sting again.
Her body is near to yours, and she smells like campfire and vanilla shampoo from two days ago.
The rain has completely stopped, leaving behind an eerie soundlessness punctuated only by dripping.
There are tears in your eyes, but you’re not sure if it’s because of the pain or her fingers in your hair.
Others gradually unfold from their fetal positions, and rise like the kids in your childhood theater class when you had to pretend to be flowers growing. In a daze, they leave the tent, one at a time, wandering out into a new world. But Diana doesn’t go. Instead, she stays next to you.
“I saw him last night,” you say.
“Where?”
“By the fire. He was saying strange things.”
She dabs at you again, and when she brings the T-shirt down, you see it’s covered in dried blood. If you were home, you’d go to your mom, the nurse who’s never off duty, but here, in this moment, there are no adults to help you pretend the world is safe.
“Do you think he’s coming back?” you ask.
More than anyone else’s, it’s her opinion on this that you want to hear. She knows how to read people. Or at least she used to.
“You know what I think?” she says finally. “I think we can’t keep doing this.”
“I know!” you say. “That’s the whole point. Without him—”
“No,” she says. “You and me. We can’t keep pretending.”
“Oh,” you say. “That.”
“Is that really what you want to do out here: just pretend we’re strangers? Pretend that Sean’s not gone, and that you didn’t abandon me when everything was at its worst? Is that your plan, Case?”
She pulls her hands away and brushes them together. You don’t want to look at them and see your own blood.
“I don’t know,” you say.
“Just tell me right now if that’s what you want to do, and I’ll cut you loose. I can do that. I’ve been doing it my whole life. Just tell me.”
“Diana…”
“You really hurt me.”
You take a breath.
“I’m sorry,” you say. “I just…”
You want to say more, but nothing comes out.
And while you try to build the courage to continue, there’s a commotion outside, a chorus of rapid voices.
You hear the crunch of footsteps moving closer to the tent.
Diana doesn’t look away from you, but you’re still unable to speak.
She reaches up to her face, and just before someone tugs open the tent, she wipes away what must be a tear from her own cheek.
Then Fran dips her head in. She looks at the two of you funny, then she regains her composure.
“Guys,” she says. “I think you need to see this.”