Drawn

  “I know what it means. I don’t think I am one.”

  “You are to Damon.”

  My face blazed, probably redder than the ketchup bottle. “Why are you so worried about Damon?” I almost said, “and me”.

  Adam stretched his arm across the back of the bench. “He’s my little bro.”

  “I’m not his girlfriend or anything.”

  I kind of hoped Adam would disagree, but he just stared at me again, through a slit-eyed half smile that didn’t tell me much.

  Calm. Cool. Laugh. “It’s not a big deal, anyway.”

  His face darkened. “Yeah. It is. It’s a very big deal. How can you not know what’s got him so torqued up when you did it?”

  My knees and elbows started to shake. “I didn’t. I don’t know why he’s mad at me,” I whispered.

  Then the thunderclouds passed and Adam smiled, the same lopsided grin as Damon, but without the dimple. He put his elbows on the table and locked his knuckles against each other under his chin. “You ever been diving?”

  “You mean, like, off a diving board?”

  He shook his head. “In the ocean. Scuba diving.”

  “I’ve never been out of the state.”

  He snorted. “A lot of people have never been out of the state. You should go.”

  “Out of the state, or diving?”

  “Both.” He grabbed his soda and drained half in one gulp. “Damon and I learned to dive in Australia. On the Great Barrier Reef.”

  “You’ve been to Australia, too?”

  “We traveled a lot before…” He drifted off, then took another bite of his burger. “Before we moved back here.”

  I looked away, out the window, at the line of cars turning into the parking lot. “So tell me about diving.”

  Adam took another drink, then leaned forward on his elbows. “Right after we got certified, Damon and I convinced the ‘rents to let us do a dive alone, just the two of us. It was pretty shallow, clear water, and the instructor and dive master were right there on the boat. We talked them into it.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Thirteen.”

  My age. “You went into the ocean all alone?”

  “With Damon. It was supposed to be about a thirty-minute dive. The instructors gave us full tanks, but said to be back up when the gauge was at half.” He stuffed some more fries in his mouth.

  “Please don’t tell me sharks were involved.”

  He laughed. “No sharks that time.”

  That time?

  “We’d only been down about ten minutes and we just started exploring the reef when Damon yanks on my fin.” Adam popped the last bite of hamburger into his mouth. “I look back and he’s giving me the ‘out of air’ sign. I can tell by the look on his face he’s not joking. And that’s not really his kind of joke, anyway.”

  “What did you do?” I felt around for another fry but I’d finished them all.

  “What they taught us. We grabbed each other’s dive vests and passed my reg back and forth.”

  “Then you got to the surface.”

  He shook his head. “Can’t do that. When you’re at depth, nitrogen builds up in your blood. You have to ascend slowly and stop a lot, so the gas can come out in your breath. Otherwise you end up with the bends.”

  “What happened?”

  “Don’t worry. We’re still alive.”

  Well, duh.

  “It turns out his valve didn’t seat properly on the tank, so it leaked like crazy. We didn’t pay close enough attention when we put the gear together.”

  “You’re not making me want to go scuba diving.”

  “The point of the story is that Damon thinks I saved his life.”

  “You did.”

  He frowned and looked away. “I’m not a hero. What was I going to do? Tell my brother, ‘No, I’m not sharing my air with you’? Watch him suffocate? Drown?”

  “Still.”

  Adam looked at me and scratched the side of his face with four stubby fingernails. “Damon is just as messed up as he thinks I am. But he has this debt mentality. He thinks he has to hold it all together for Dad and me.”

  I felt like I’d run out of air.

  “He has paid and repaid for my screw-ups. He needs to get a grip and move on with his life.”

  “What does this have to do with me?” I picked at the greasy rim of my French fry cup.

  “You knocked him off balance. Spun him around. You’ve got to fix it.”

  I shook my head. “I have no idea what I did. Or how to undo it.”

  He leaned toward me and shook his head. “You really don’t know?”

  “I really don’t.”

  “Julie. The picture you drew of him, under the tree? That was our house, in Africa. Right down to the color of the stupid cat.”

  * * * * *

  Adam bumped down the kickstand with the heel of his boot. As the engine died a whiny buzz like a wasps’ hive assaulted my ears. Near and far, vibrations pulsed and screamed as though a hoard of killer bees mauled some desperate, howling beast.

  “Quiet tonight,” Adam said.

  I stepped off the bike and slung my bag over my shoulder. “That’s sarcasm, right?”

  He shook his head. “Really. Sounds like there’s only a few bikes out.”

  I followed him across a dirt field to an empty stand of rickety bleachers. He hopped over the first row and reached down to help me up. Adam had hands like Damon’s, too. Only a little thinner and not as tan. Someone as fair and red-headed as Adam probably couldn’t even get a tan.

  We went all the way to the top row and sat down.

  A scant quarter moon and a freckling of stars dotted the cloudless sky, and pale funnels of light streamed down from a dozen poles spaced around the dirt track. Brown clouds erupted here and there as riders twisted their bikes around banked corners and landed them one wheel at a time on the other side of small jumps and ravines. I recognized Damon’s bike on the far side of the track.

  “Are they racing?” I asked.

  “Huh-uh. It’s just open ride. Practice.”

  The others might have been practicing, but Damon rode like all of hell chased him. His bike revved and screamed. He took the straight runs full-out and hit the turns so hard he and the bike lay almost flat against the ground. I glanced ahead of him; a high, steep bank approached. Two other riders swerved to the outside of it, but Damon headed straight for it.

  “He’s not going to—”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Damon sped up on the track leading to the jump, and he leaned forward, like he couldn’t get there fast enough. The bike shot up the hill and went airborne. His front tire angled to the left and the beam from the far light pole shot through the space between his body and the seat of the bike.

  I couldn’t breathe as he twisted through the air. Oh, please God. Don’t let him crash.

  He landed on the other side. The back tire slipped to the side, but Damon recovered and blazed down the dip in the track and up the other side.

  I looked over at Adam. He leaned back on his elbows and smiled at me. “That’s my boy.”

  “He does this all the time?”

  “Heck, yeah. It’s a blast.”

  Adam nodded at the corner of the track to the far right. “There. He’s done.”

  Damon stood over his bike just outside the track. He pulled his helmet off and looked up toward us. I couldn’t make out the expression on his face, but I didn’t have to.

  “He’s not happy to see me.”

  “Sure he is.” Adam chucked my shoulder. “Trust me. He needs to see you.” Then he stood up.

  “Where are you going?”

  “For a ride.”

  I fought an urge to grab his leg.

  He grinned, really wide, with teeth. “See. You are an enigma. You’ll ride off into the night with a guy you hardly know, but you’re scared to talk to the one you do.” Then he descended the bleachers two rows at a time and met Damon halfway
to the track.

  I could only imagine what Damon said, but he punctuated it into Adam’s chest with his finger. Adam grabbed the helmet and took the dirt bike away from Damon, then leaned toward his brother and stabbed Damon’s shoulder with his own finger. They both looked up at me.

  I wondered if I could jump off the back of the bleachers without breaking both my legs.

  Damon trudged over to the seats and hit the steps hard enough to shake the whole thing as he climbed. He sat down next to me with his elbows on his knees.

  Lots of stuff ran through my head. How’ve you been? You’re an amazing rider. Are you ready for the Olympics on Saturday? How’d you do on Hirsch’s test? But I didn’t say anything either. Nothing seemed right. Not for this.

  We watched Adam swing his leg over the bike, put on the helmet and enter the track. He rode as hard as Damon, but even crazier. He weaved around and between other riders, went off the track in places, and jumped over things that didn’t seem meant for that.

  I snuck a sideways glance at Damon. He took off his jacket and tossed it onto the seat. Drenched with sweat, his shirt clung to him, and his hair matted where the helmet flattened it. He rubbed, flexed and shook out his forearms.

  “Are you okay?” I asked so quietly I wasn’t sure he even heard me.

  He looked over for a second out of the corner of his eye, then nodded. “Arm pump.”

  I chewed on the inside of my cheek and kept my fingers wrapped around my knees so I wouldn’t wring them or pull off the cuticles till they bled.

  Adam jumped over the same hill Damon did, and landed really hard on the back tire.

  Damon groaned. “He’s going to blow the shocks again.”

  What am I doing here?

  I looked away, but heard Damon sigh like a deflated hot-air balloon. When I turned back, he held his head in both hands, elbows on his knees. “I’m not mad at you,” he said.

  He’s not mad. Seriously?

  “Wow. I’d hate to see it if you were.”

  He turned his head ninety degrees and looked up at me. The coldness he’d worn on his face for weeks melted into a grin. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Then he laughed.

  “That’s funny?”

  “No,” he said. Then he put his hands over his eyes. “Yeah.”

  Damon laughed like the village idiot and all I could think about was the three weeks of misery he put me through. And I didn’t even know why.

  I still didn’t know why.

  “Come on,” he said. “That’s hilarious.”

  It ignited in a half second and erupted just as fast, this I-could-kill-him-and-never-regret-it rage. It flamed up out of my stomach, shot like an electric jolt through my limbs, and I punched him in the arm.

  He still didn’t stop laughing. “You’re going to hurt your hand.”

  I half-growled and half-shrieked and drew back to hit him again.

  He caught my wrist in mid-swing.

  “You made me cry!” I shouted.

  Then I wanted those words back in the worst way.

  Too late.

  I jerked my arm away from him and stood up. I’d walk home. I didn’t know the way, but I didn’t care.

  “Julie.”

  I didn’t stop or look back. I got down the bleachers as fast as I could and started across the field.

  “Julie!” He thundered down the aluminum steps behind me. Then he got in front of me and held both my arms.

  “Let go,” I yelled.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Nothing else he might have said could have started the tears again like those two innocent words. I turned away when one spilled outside the corner of my left eye.

  Damon stepped forward, wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against his chest.

  Everything in me broke open then, and the tears flooded along with this strange ache of relief. I put my hands on his back, but he pushed me away again.

  “Oh, man. I’m all sweaty.”

  “I don’t care,” I told him. Then I started to laugh.

  Damon stared. “You make no sense at all.”

  “Yeah. I’m an enigma.” I stepped back into his arms.

  It felt like I’d come home.

  CHAPTER 22

  “I broke it.” Adam pushed the lame dirt bike out to the parking field where I sat sidesaddle on the motorcycle. It made a sort of clicking and scraping sound as the front wheel turned.

  “Not surprised,” Damon said.

  This sick wave went through me, like I’d just watched my dog get hit by a truck.

  Damon kneeled down to look at the wheel. “You’re fixing it this time, you know.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re pushing it home, too.”

  “Is that very far?” I asked.

  Adam sighed. “A couple of miles.”

  Damon stood up. “I’ll take Julie home.”

  “You don’t have a license for a motorcycle, right?” I asked.

  “Neither does he.”

  I looked up at Adam and he grinned.

  I forgot that. What if we’d gotten stopped? My breath caught in my throat. I have no way to get home that’s not illegal.

  “Don’t sweat it,” Adam said. “We’re safe drivers.”

  “Says the guy who just broke his own bike.” I looked at Damon.

  Damon cracked his knuckles. “I’ll go home and get the mountain bike and ride you that way.”

  “Dude, that’s like five miles,” Adam said.

  “I’m not going to make her do something she doesn’t want to.”

  “How very noble of you.”

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  Adam looked at his watch. “Eight thirty. Let me take her. At least I had a license.”

  “For what? Three weeks? And I’m not pushing your trashed bike home.”

  “What about your dad?” I asked. “Could he come?”

  Damon shook his head. “He’s out of town this week.” He looked down at me. “How about your parents? Or your brother?”

  Mom and Dad would kill me, and that’s if I could get a hold of one of them, which I probably couldn’t.

  Mark might come, but then we’d be even.

  I didn’t want to be even.

  “No.”

  Damon stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down at me. “What do you want me to do?”

  I couldn’t ask him to ride me on his handlebars for five miles. Not when his arms already hurt. “You can drive this?” I put my hand on the motorcycle’s gas tank.

  He chuckled and nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Okay, then.”

  “We’ll stick to side streets. Might be more than five miles that way, though.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Damon got his jacket and gave it to me. We drove slow and sometimes cut across churned-up swaths of harvested fields to keep off the streets as much as possible. When we turned onto the road that led to my neighborhood we got off the bike and walked. We didn’t talk, even then, though only faraway night things sang out of the dark.

  I guessed it was almost nine o’clock when we approached my house. Not a car in the driveway or a light in a window. “Amazing.”

  “Is anyone ever there?”

  “Only people who aren’t supposed to be.”

  We stood there under the street light and looked at my house. The crickets sounded like a million tiny can openers.

  Damon shrugged. “I’ve got nowhere to be.”

  Did I?

  No one looked for me or wondered where I’d gone. Or even knew I wasn’t home.

  Like a balloon that slipped from a child’s fist, I rose higher and higher, away from the grasp of the careless one who let me go. The sky beckoned, and the winds swept me up.

  I smiled at Damon. “Me either.”

  “The lake?”

  “Let me get a jacket. You’ve got to be freezing.”

  Damon waited at the end of the driveway while I went in.

  I cracked
open my window, grabbed a heavy sweater off my chair, locked the bedroom door behind me and raced out.

  We got back on the bike. It roared to life and carried us past Pam’s house down to the access road. We parked the bike in the same place, behind the briar, and walked the overgrown path through the woods. The moon didn’t give as much light as last time, and the shadows fell darker and longer. Damon reached for my hand and laced his fingers through mine.

  I hadn’t been on the raft since the last time Damon and I came here. We sat down in the same spots as before, cross-legged and facing out toward the water.

  We needed to talk, but I didn’t know where to start, and he didn’t seem to either. He stretched out his legs and leaned back on his elbows. I watched his chest rise and fall. His eyes left the moon and fell on me.

  He took a fast breath, held it a second, then let it out again and looked back up to the sky.

  I wrapped my arms around my shins and laid my head on my knees.

  Then Damon leaned back and rubbed his eyes with his palms. He turned to me again, opened his mouth. Then he closed it and rubbed his eyes some more.

  Just get it out. Say it, and get it over with.

  “I didn’t know I drew a picture of your house. It was just a coincidence.”

  He snorted. “That was no coincidence. And it wasn’t just the house.”

  “Adam told me. The cat, too.” I watched a falling star blaze across the top of the tree line. “But cats only come in a few colors. Orange cats aren’t that unusual.”

  Damon threaded his fingers through his hair. “Julie, it wasn’t just the stuff in the picture. It was the picture.”

  A frog belched near the shore, then splashed into the water.

  “My mom took that picture. Exactly that picture.”

  I stared at him.

  “The mango tree was in bloom. I was reading under it with Mom when she got up, went in the house to get her camera, and snapped a photo of me. After she got it developed she liked it so much she had it blown up and framed.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “No kidding.”

  “I’ve never seen that picture. I swear.”

  “I know you haven’t. It was destroyed in the rains, along with almost everything else in the house.”

  “After your mom died?”

  He nodded.

  “In Africa?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Before I even knew you?”

  “Now you get why I was so freaked out?”

  A chill swept through me that had nothing to do with the air.

  “How did you do that?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” I rubbed my temples. “I don’t know how this works.”

  He scowled and sat up to face me. “How what works?”