Chapter 27 #2
“Thad, don’t make me guess here.” My voice was unexpectedly sharp.
“Sorry.” Thad watched water crash against our rock.
“Lately, maybe it’s because I’ve been here so long, I feel like I finally get Nil.
The darkness of it. Like with Rory. He was so pissed, and I can’t stop thinking that our yelling attracted the hog.
Like Nil was drawn to the hate, you know?
” Then he laughed, an empty sound. “I know, it sounds insane.”
“No, it sounds like you feel guilty.” I paused.
“Thad, Rory’s death was not your fault. Yes, y’all yelled.
Yes, Mama Hog got angry, or felt threatened, or whatever.
But Rory’s the one who fell out of the sky mad and sour, and he’s the one who set that awful day in motion.
It’s totally terrible that he died, but his death wasn’t your fault.
But hey”—I stopped long enough for him to look up at me—“if you want to beat yourself up about it, go ahead.”
When Thad stayed quiet, I grinned. “You know I’m right.”
“Maybe.” He smiled slightly, then dropped his eyes to his hands, which, thankfully, weren’t clenched in knots. “I’m just tired of the bad stuff. The death, the blood. The waiting.”
“The tick-tock,” I said.
“Exactly.” His voice was oddly choked.
For a few minutes, neither of us spoke. Darkness lingered over Thad like a cloud, and I didn’t know what else to say. We hadn’t spoken this much in almost two weeks.
“Look, I know I’ve been preoccupied lately,” Thad said. “Since Rory, I’ve been trying to get my head straight.”
I looked at him, abruptly overwhelmed by all Thad had gone through.
Not just watching a boy die after carrying him for miles, but dealing with Nil, day in and day out, for 290 days.
Watching people come, watching people go.
Watching people die, and maybe not just Rory.
Probably not just Rory. And here I was, thinking his distance was about me. I’d never felt more shallow or foolish.
“It’s okay.” I laid my hand on his arm. Despite myself, I got a little thrill when he didn’t pull away.
“I’ve only been here twenty-four days, and sometimes it gets to me.
I mean, I was just sitting here, thinking about everything I miss.
But when I thought about what I didn’t miss, it made me feel a little better.
So—well, not going all sunshine and daisies here, but maybe try focusing on the good stuff for a while so the bad isn’t so dang overwhelming.
Like you said yourself, ‘focus on the good, live in the moment.’ Samuel made it; so did Sabine.
Natalie and Li are on Search, and we haven’t seen any gates around here, so maybe they’ve caught one wherever they are. ”
Thad regarded me with an unreadable expression. I almost stopped, thinking again how crappy I was with the whole rah-rah thing, but I was determined to finish.
“I’m not saying ignore the Dark Side, and I’m not saying it’s not here. I’m not blind, or stupid. But there’s bad stuff everywhere, not just on Nil, and you can’t let it all in. Plus, it’s not all bad. I mean, look. How many other people are sitting by the ocean right now with this amazing view?”
“None.” His eyes were so blue, it almost hurt to look at them. Almost.
“Sorry for getting so deep,” I said, feeling stupid even though I’d just said I wasn’t. “You started it.”
“I did.” Thad smiled. This time it reached his eyes; the ghosts were gone.
The shift was subtle, but definitive. “Hey, sorry I’ve been such a crappy island guide lately.
After Rory, I realized how thin we are. We need more than one person who can stitch, more than one person who can fix the gliders, that sort of thing. A little cross-training, eh?”
No more tormented Thad. Now it was determined, all-business Thad.
“And thanks for giving Rives the heads-up on Bart,” he said. “He’s one to watch out for.”
Funny, I thought. Bart said the same thing about you. Then I had a thought. “You think he’s the saboteur? The one who messed up the Shack?”
“Maybe. It hasn’t happened since we set up watch, and that’s all that matters. But back to what you told Rives, I wouldn’t worry. I doubt Bart has the balls to steal someone’s gate.”
“I don’t know,” I said slowly. “Doesn’t seem like stealing someone’s gate takes guts. Seems more cowardly to me.”
“Could be.” Thad didn’t look worried. “But either way, he’s got to prove he’s worth taking on Search, and that’s part of what I’ve been working on. Not babysitting Bart, but organizing work details, educating everyone on hot spots, spreading information.”
“Two things.” I spoke carefully. “First, I noticed you’ve been on a tear, helping everyone. But sooner or later, you’ll have to look after yourself.”
“I know.” His voice was quiet. “That’s what I’m planning for. I’ve got Priority soon.”
For a second, Nil looked gray, like Thad’s eyes full of ghosts. Nil without Thad was unimaginable.
“You said two things. What’s the second?” he asked.
“No more sorry, Charleys. I was fine on my own.”
“Oh, I know that.” He flashed his easy grin. “So are you saying you don’t need an island guide?” His tone was teasing, but I heard the flicker of disappointment, or maybe that was just what I wanted to hear.
“Need or want?” I copied his tone, smiling.
“Either,” he said.
“I wouldn’t mind an island guide, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Sounds like want,” he whispered.
Our eyes locked, and as Thad leaned forward, a shout from the beach ruined the moment.
“Thad!” Heesham’s voice. “You ready, man?”
Thad closed his eyes, then turned to Heesham. “Five minutes,” he called. When Thad looked back at me, his eyes were playful, the way I remembered them from my first day at the Cove.
“So, Charley with an e-y, what do you miss the most? What are you wishing you had that’s not here?”
Nothing, I thought, watching humor flash inside Thad’s sapphire eyes. Absolutely nothing.
“Power,” I managed.
“Too general,” he said. “Try again.”
I thought for a second. “Okay, hot showers. This morning, when I took my latest Cove bath, I couldn’t stop shivering.
I used to take showers so hot the whole bathroom would steam up.
Once the steam actually set off the smoke detector in my room.
I’m serious,” I said as Thad laughed. “What about you? What do you miss the most?”
Thad watched the white foam curl around his ankles.
“Riding up the lift with my board hanging from one foot. Seeing the white below me, knowing I was about to shred it.” He paused.
“The first run of the day, when the snow’s like powder and the sun’s so bright it hurts.
Launching down the mountain, flying so fast nothing can catch me. I miss that.”
The ache in his voice was palpable. I stayed quiet, feeling sadder for Thad than me. Nothing I’d missed for 24 days could hold a candle to being denied for 290.
Thad kept going. “A cheeseburger, thick and juicy, with bacon. And fries.”
My mouth watered.
“Sprite,” I said. “Fountain Sprite, on crushed ice, the kind you can crunch in your mouth when the Sprite’s gone but the ice still tastes sweet.”
“Barbecue chips.”
“French toast. With butter and syrup.”
Thad grinned. “Chocolate bars, preferably a Crispy Crunch.”
“Umm,” I said, tasting imaginary chocolate. “Chocolate chip cookies. Warm from the oven, when the chocolate’s still gooey. With milk.”
Thad groaned. “When we get back, can I come to your house? Because I really want one of those cookies. How did we get stuck on food?”
When we get back, he’d said. I lifted my eyes to his. We? I thought.
“What?” he asked.
For a second, neither of us spoke. Then I said, “Socks.” I smiled.
Thad looked surprised. “Socks?”
“Socks.” I nodded. “I miss socks. My feet freeze at night.”
“Watching or catching a Canucks game. Hell, I just miss hockey, period.”
I laughed. “My iPod.”
“Echo that,” Thad said nodding. “Got Nuffin here.”
“Did you just quote Spoon?” I asked.
“So Charley knows Spoon.” Thad grinned. “What else do you have on your iPod?”
Thad and I had similar taste, which was cool, but we both had lots of bands neither of us had heard of. I wished I could look them up on iTunes, but of course, I couldn’t.
“Hey, listen, I could talk tunes all day, but Heesham’s setting up island ball and I said I’d play. Come with me?” His voice was anxious, like he wasn’t certain I’d say yes. Boys.
The minute our feet hit sand, Thad smiled devilishly.
“Race you back,” he said. “Winner bakes the other a chocolate chip cookie when we get home.”
“You can bake?” I asked.
“I have hidden talents.” He grinned.
I laughed. I’ll bet you do. “You’re on.”
We lined up beside each other, two track stars toeing an invisible line.
“On your mark,” Thad started, “set … go!”
I hung with him until the end, when Thad easily pulled away.
Huffing and puffing, I jogged up to Thad, who was breathing hard, hands on his hips. “Did you quit on me?” he asked.
“Did you hold back?” I shot back.
“Nope. You quit. Or at least you didn’t kick it at the end.” He laughed as I made a face.
“No way. You’re just fast.”
“Well, we’ll have to work on that. Fast is good on Nil.” Thad’s jaw hardened despite his smile.
“I’m getting that idea.”
Looking away, Thad pointed. “Perfect timing.”
Up the beach, Heesham and Rives were pounding two wooden poles into the sand.
A net stretched across the middle. Talla held a green ball; it appeared to be woven from the same green strips I’d tried to fashion a net from on my second week here, only these strips were cross-hatched in a tight pattern, perfectly forming a ball.
A volleyball.
Heesham cupped his hands. “Court’s ready. If you’re game, bring it.”
“Is he talking about volleyball?” I asked cautiously. Nothing here was exactly what it seemed.
Thad nodded. “Yup. Nil style. Be my partner, and I promise to bake you a full batch of cookies when we get home.” Thad’s devilish grin was back.
“You’re on.”
“Ever played before?” he asked.
“A little.” I smiled.
“Oh, yeah,” Thad said, his grin widening. “Let’s bring it.”