Chapter 39
I wake the next morning with no news from Dara or Xander about a broken curse. Xander doesn’t even send his usual video vlogs. Not even a selfie of him covered in Starburst wrappers.
The lack of notifications presses against my chest like a weight, deflating me back into my mattress. Another day floating aimlessly through the throes of a Penango summer without a light guiding me to shore.
Even my aging earbuds refuse to reach a full charge, and a fresh crack in their case forecasts their impending expiration.
Last night, we dragged out dinner as long as possible, keeping Xander and Dara in public, testing fate. We hoped the waitress would eventually acknowledge Xander, or the chef would give a nod to Dara. Some proof that the tree forgave us.
But they were ignored. Nothing happened.
We left the Bean preaching patience. It’s my least favorite word these days. More waiting. More built-up anxiety. Everything is relying on patience. I guess if a decades-old curse was going to break, it wasn’t going to happen in the time it takes to eat a burger.
I roll over and check my phone again. There’s still nothing from Xander. But there is a new email from my counselor. I sit up, rubbing my eyes as I read:
I’ve prepared your transcript and my recommendation letter for the scholarship committee. Please send me your second letter and essay as soon as possible.
The message shoots me out of bed like a lightning bolt.
The essay.
My limbs go cold. I’ve been so occupied with Xander and Murray that I forgot to start my essay.
I open my laptop and log in to the Tennessee housing portal to get myself back on track.
I can already hear Murray’s voice in my head, the same one that haunted my entire college application process last fall. It didn’t exactly cheer me on. No proud hugs. No “I’m happy for you.” Just him yelling at me for even thinking about leaving Penango, like it was some personal attack.
I swore I wouldn’t let a boy ruin this last chance at escape.
I’m starting to learn my lesson.
Kind of.
A red dollar amount flashes on the screen, bold and blinking, beneath a warning:
Last day to pay your housing deposit to reserve your spot in fall housing. Nonrefundable.
I run the numbers in my head. The deposit is basically the entire amount of money I made so far this summer.
But the bigger problem is that I need both the deposit and the scholarship to make Tennessee happen. If I pay the deposit right now and don’t get the scholarship, I’m screwed. If I don’t pay and get the scholarship, I’m still screwed. These decisions aren’t mutually exclusive. I need both.
I stare at the blinking price until my vision fuzzes over, then click Submit Payment with an aggressive track-pad slam. The confirmation message pops up immediately:
Payment received. Expect communication about your housing soon. Applications are processed in the order they are received.
In summary, more patience required.
I take a deep breath and do a quick balance check in my head. How much money do I have left? I open my banking app.
$6.51.
Not even enough for a burger at the Bean. Certainly not enough money to drive to Tennessee. And definitely not enough to tour half the country with Whitley.
My hands go slack in my lap. The number stares back at me. My ticket out of Penango is paid for. I just don’t know if I’ll ever get to use it.
At work, I can’t wait to tell Whitley what’s gone down in the last twenty-four hours. Nothing about what Dara shared was normal, like she swore it would be. The tree is what cursed me, not Xander. She was wrong about him.
But Whitley never shows up at the health department.
She doesn’t answer my calls either. Maybe she caught the coyote last night and is out celebrating.
If that’s the case, I need in on the party, anything to distract myself from the fact that Xander, Dara, and I are still invisible to parts of the world.
I reach Whitley’s house at twilight. My tires bob over the curb at the uneven driveway. The heat wave that’s suffocated Penango since the Fourth of July finally retreats south, leaving behind cool air and flickering lightning bugs.
I knock on the front door.
No answer.
I knock again. Still nothing.
After a few more moments of silence, I let myself inside.
Bennie lies on the living room sofa with white bandages wrapped tightly around his hind legs. His ears perk up when he sees me, and he lets out a few soft whimpers.
“Hey, Bennie,” I say, patting his head. His warm tongue licks my palm. “Where is Whitley?” The ceiling fan spins aggressively overhead. An empty plate with specks of breadcrumbs rests on the coffee table. The kitchen counters are stacked with dirty dishes.
It’s no sign of a celebration.
“Whitley?” I yell. “It’s me. Stetson.”
A mattress creaks down the hall, followed by a faintwhisper. I follow the sound.
Whitley sits on her bed with her ankle propped up on a stack of pillows. The skin around her foot is purple, swollen, and twice its normal size. My stomach drops.
“You let yourself in?” she asks. Her voice is flat.
“What happened?”
She doesn’t answer right away.
“I fell out of a tree while I was coyote hunting last night,” she says, wincing as she rolls on her side to face the wall.
“Oh my god. Are you okay? Why didn’t you say anything?” I step closer.
“You were busy.” She sniffs.
My head jerks back. “So? When has that mattered before? I would’ve come and helped.” I scan her body, checking for more bruises, but there’s nothing else visible.
“When have you ever lied to me before? Or broken a promise?” She talks to the wall.
Her words hit hard like they’ve inflicted their own injury on me.
I blink rapidly. My cheeks flush. “Huh? Whitley, what’s going on?”
She’s quiet for a moment, then she spins around. I brace myself because the look she gives me is one I’ve never seen before. At least, never seen her give to me.
“I can tell you about yesterday and—” I start.
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t care about yesterday.” She swings her legs off the bed and forces herself up.
“Whitley—”
She limps past me, clipping my shoulder as she goes.
“You shouldn’t be walking. Your ankle is bigger than a basketball.”
“Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do.”
She barely makes it to the kitchen before losing her breath, leaning against the wall for support.
“Chill for a second.” I place my hand on her lower back. “What can I do to help?”
She shoves me away. “I’m fine. Just get me some water.”
I nod and jog to the sink. I fill a glass with water, then open the freezer to find an ice pack for her ankle. It’s empty. The ice tray holds mold instead of cubes. The fridge is also bare except for a few soda cans. I grab one, feeling the cold in my palm, and head back to the living room.
Whitley is on the couch with her legs stretched out. Bennie places his head in her lap.
“Here,” I say, handing her the glass of water. “And this is for your ankle.” I hold up the cold soda. “It was all you had.”
She guzzles the glass of water in a few seconds, then swipes the soda from my hand and presses it against her injury.
“Thanks,” she mutters. Her face is stuck in a grimace. “Where were you last night?”
“I went to West Virginia to find Dara, remember?”
She nods slowly. “Yeah, but do you remember promising to come back to help coyote hunt?” Her words slice through me. “Maybe I wouldn’t have fallen if I wasn’t alone.”
I forgot. Our conversation was only yesterday, but with everything going on, it feels like months ago. The details are blurred. But not enough so that I can’t recognize I’m wrong.
I drop my head. “I’m so sorry, Whitley. I totally forgot. When we realized Dara was like us, we—”
“It doesn’t matter.” She pushes off the couch and hurls the soda can into the kitchen sink. It explodes on impact and sprays fizz into the air.
“Where are you going?”
“For a walk.”
I frown. “Why don’t we relax?”
“We?” she asks. “I want to be on my own.” She exits through the rear storm door. Its metal spring whips the screen back into my face.
“It’s going to be dark soon!” I call after her. “What if we went coyote hunting instead? We could sit in a tree somewhere. It’ll be easier.”
She spins.
“Don’t pretend like you care about that now.
” Her voice shakes. “You were late for our dawn hunts and skipped the dusk ones.” She grabs Bennie’s wagon from under a bush.
“C’mon, boy.” She pats her thigh. Bennie hobbles past me and jumps into the red wagon.
He spins three times before curling up into a ball.
Whitley grips the handle and marches toward the woods.
My shaky hands move through the air without purpose. “Wh . . . Wh . . . Whitley.” I jog after her.
“Why can’t I do this like you’re trying to help Xander, huh? You got me researching witches, for shit’s sake. I’m allowed to go for a walk with my own dog.”
I flip my hands. “I never said you weren’t allowed. It’s just a weird time to—”
She karate chops the space between us. “Do you want to know the real reason we’re not going coyote hunting anymore?” Spit flies off her lips.
My feet falter. “Why?”
“The coyote has a family.” Her voice cracks.
I freeze.
“I went to shoot it, but then three pups came out from behind a tree,” she continues. “I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to take a parent from them.” Her breath hitches. “So I jerked my gun up to miss my shot. That’s when I fell.”
My throat tightens.
“Bennie is all I got.”
I step forward. “You got me too.”
“Not at home. You have your family. And all your boyfriends.” Her voice wobbles. “But me?” She wipes her nose. “At the end of the day, it’s just me and Bennie. I don’t have a single parent that cares. Even the damn coyote has more than me.”
“That’s not—”
“I’m alone.” She stares through me. “And for some reason, that’s what my family thinks I deserve.”
“A lot of people care.”
She scoffs. “Yeah, like how you’ve cared enough about these hunts . . . and to plan anything for our college road trip.”
My insides twist.
I squeeze my arm because I can’t think of any words to say. I want to keep telling her that I care. That I’m here. But I’ve already failed her once.
She yanks the wagon forward.
The next few seconds pass by in silence because I’m speechless. Heat swells behind my eyelids. Whitley disappears into the near darkness. I stare until the last thing I see is Bennie’s white bandages, glowing against the tree shadows.
“Whitley,” I whisper. But she doesn’t come back.
I sigh, then lurch back to my truck with my shoulders dipped.
She’s right. I should’ve been here at the agreed-upon time to help her hunt. But I also had to go after Dara to help Xander. How was I supposed to choose? I kick my front driver’s side tire until my toe throbs.
Life has tossed me into its deep end, and I can barely keep myself afloat for much longer. I’m drowning in the pressure from all my responsibilities.
Maybe this is Penango’s final test for me. If I can make it through this summer, then the county will finally release me from its clutches.
We promise to serve and pledge our love. That’s what the Stillwell Trail High School alma mater says. To always look out for thy neighbor and put Penango above. That’s what I’m doing. I just wish, sometimes, I could get a little love in return.
It’s like the Ardor Tree has its own rifle, and it’s pointed right at my heart.