“I think I still have Arizona blood.” He pulls his knees up. “Not used to this cold.”
“Just wait. It’ll snow soon. Just like that it’ll go from the decent fall weather, pretty colors, to snow. It’s probably snowing up in the mountains right now if we’re getting rain here.”
Jacián gets to his feet. His clothes drip. “Do you ever ride?”
“Sure. We don’t have any horses right now.”
“I bet I know where you can borrow one.”
Kendall smiles and gets up too. They walk to the porch together. “You should get inside. You want me to drip-dry out here? I can call my mom for a ride. I doubt they’re out in the fields when it’s like this.”
“Either way, you won’t be welcome in any vehicle like that. You can just take a shower here. We have enough bathrooms. Is that weird?”
“A little. I didn’t even think to bring a towel to sit on like I usually do when we play games in the rain.”
“It’s okay. Seriously.”
Kendall feels the chill working into her system too, now. “Okay. Yeah. Thanks.” Gingerly she pulls her sodden sweatshirt up over her head and drops it like a rock to the porch. “I’ll need a plastic bag for my clothes.”
“No problem.” He takes off his shoes, peels off his socks, and squeezes out the hems of his shirt and shorts, trying to get as much water out of them as possible so he doesn’t drip all over the house. “You remember where Marlena’s bathroom is upstairs? ‘Cause you’re going to have to make a mad dash.”
“Yep.” She does the same with her clothes and footgear. Thanks to the sweatshirt, her shirt is only wet, not soaked, but it’s still sticking to her. When Jacián glances at it, she blushes. “Okay, I’m going to make a run for it.”
“Don’t forget to bring your clean clothes with you, or you could have another problem,” he teases.
Kendall’s face turns hot. “Good point.” She opens the door and runs nimbly through the house, grabbing her backpack as she goes, and then dashing up the stairs.
A shower never felt so good. Even being alone in the house with Jacián, knowing he’s naked in another shower somewhere nearby, doesn’t mess with her brain. “Thank you, soccer,” she says reverently. She feels terrific. It’s been too long. She lathers up and thinks about how much better she feels now than she has since . . . well, since the last time she played soccer with Jacián.
“I wonder if I could get him to dance,” she muses out loud as she runs her fingers through her wet hair, trying to comb it.
* * *
She emerges, hair still wet, back in her school clothes, and it feels awkward now. She wonders what she’ll find when she gets back downstairs. She creeps down and hears something in the kitchen. She slips into the room and sees Jacián standing at the counter in jeans and with a towel around his neck.
There’s no denying the guy works out. He’s listening to a message on the answering machine from Mrs. Obregon, saying they’re staying in Bozeman for dinner and not to wait to eat. He deletes it.
“Hey,” Kendall says.
He reaches into the refrigerator and pulls out two Granny Smith apples and a hunk of cheese. “You hungry? I’m starving.”
“Yeah, sure.”
He pulls a jar of peanut butter from the cupboard and a knife from the drawer and starts slicing apples.
“I should probably get home soon . . . ,” Kendall says. “I’m sure you have stuff to do.” She can’t stop looking at his chest.
He pauses in his cutting. “You need to go now? I’ll drive you.”
“No! I mean, no hurry. And not unless you want to. I can call my mom.”
“It’s okay. I want to.” He continues slicing and moves on to the second apple, and then opens the block of cheese and slices that. Hands her a plate. “Here. Apple. Peanut butter. Manchego. Take your pick.”
She takes some of each. “So, ah, I’m not sure if you know this, but you’re not wearing a shirt.”
“Distracting, isn’t it?”
“You’re pretty sure you’re hot, aren’t you.” It feels more comfortable when they are at odds, somehow.
“You said it.”
“And I’m sure I’ll regret it. Do you always walk around like that?”
“Yeah, always. You mean this is the first time you noticed?” He drags an apple slice through a glob of peanut butter and takes a bite. “No. Just on laundry day. I’m out of shirts.”
“Oh! Crap. Laundry. I need a plastic bag.” Kendall jumps off her bar stool. “I left my wet stuff hanging in the shower.”
Jacián reaches for a drawer and pulls out a trash bag. “Here.”
“Be right back.”
She returns moments later to find all the food gone. “Wow.”
“I was really hungry.”
“Apparently.”
He grins. “I’m a growing boy. What do you want from me?”
“I don’t know, maybe the rest of the food that was on my plate?”
“Dude, you left.”
“Next time I’ll take my plate with me.”
“Next time.” He raises an eyebrow. “Tomorrow?”
She looks at him. So conflicted. She knows her parents could use her help, but harvest is almost done. And if she begs off, she knows her mother will say yes. After the relief her brain is experiencing right now, she wants to get back out there and continue playing until she collapses.
And then there’s just one more nagging feeling. One that she pushes back every time she has a pleasant conversation with Jacián. She knows it’s stupid. But when she thinks about how much Nico might have suffered, or might be suffering. . . . How can she do anything fun—especially with another guy—and feel good about it?
It just feels wrong.
“I didn’t know it was such a loaded question.” Jacián is leaning on the counter now, looking at Kendall intently during her silence.
She swallows hard. “It’s not. It’s . . . I don’t know. I’ll have to see.”
Jacián nods. “Okay.” He goes into the adjacent laundry room and comes out wearing a Phoenix Suns sweatshirt.
“My dad’s a big fan,” he explains, rolling his eyes. “You ready?” he asks. He pulls his truck keys from his pocket.
Kendall nods.
He drives her home in silence. When he gets to her driveway, he says, “You know, if you ever want to talk about it, I . . . I could listen. Or, you know. Whatever.”
“Thanks. I don’t know if . . .” She grabs her backpack, which weighs a ton because of the wet clothes. “Thanks,” she says again. And because of his sincerity, she reaches over and squeezes his hand. And then she slips out of the truck and doesn’t look back.
That night Kendall sleeps hard and soundly for the first time since Nico disappeared.
WE
ANGER. Again We are stalled, turned back from Our plan. Our souls pound and rock the metal, the wood, the room, and the building. Revenge is near. Thirty-five. One hundred. Thirty-five. One hundred! In agony, We scrape a new message.
Touch me.
Tell no one.
It’s me.
TWENTY
The sun shines again. It’s Friday, and Nico’s desk is still in its place.
She almost doesn’t notice it—the words.
But she does. How could she not?
There’s nothing else she can do. She brushes it with her fingertips when she passes the desk to sharpen her pencil. And again when she throws something in the trash. And she hears it, barely. The whisper. Nico’s voice. Touch me. Tell no one. It’s me.
At lunch she waits until everyone is outside, and then she moves to it. Cautiously she slips her fingers over the new graffiti, back and forth, as Nico’s voice fills her ears.
Her heart pounds. How can this be happening?
She rests her cheek against it, closes her eyes, and absorbs his words. It’s not as strong, not as overpowering this time. It starts out gentle and builds, hovers, the euphoria that comes over her.
/>
By the time lunch is over, Kendall doesn’t want to pull away. She stays where she is, unmoving, not listening to Ms. Hinkler, not caring what anybody else in the class might think about her unauthorized move. Not noticing the puzzled looks from Jacián and Eli and the others. Nothing matters but the words and the solace they bring.
When Jacián and Marlena nudge her at the end of the day, Kendall pulls herself away. It’s like the afternoon was only minutes long. And now she has to leave him, leave Nico, for the entire weekend. The incredible high drains slowly, and by the time the three of them are at Hector’s, Kendall feels like she just came off of a very big sugar rush. She’s lethargic and her brain is muddled.
“What’s up with you today?” Jacián asks as they stretch for soccer. Marlena sits wrapped up in a blanket on the porch, watching, her foot propped up on the railing.
“Nothing much,” Kendall says. Her voice sounds far away.
“You got tired of sitting by me?”
“Huh? No. I just . . .” She trails off, wondering what she’s going to say. “I just feel closer to Nico when I’m sitting there.”
Jacián grabs a ball and starts dribbling. He doesn’t say anything.
Kendall goes through the motions of doing some exercises but when Jacián passes the ball to her, she misses, or doesn’t make the effort to return the ball.
“Come on,” he mutters.
Kendall shakes her arms and does a quick jog in place in an attempt to clear her head. “Sorry. I’m not sure . . .” She tries to concentrate, and slowly, as she focuses and puts some effort into the sport, the fuzziness in her brain clears. By the time she’s fully into playing, questions start bombarding. As she runs, the questions sound out at every step.
What is happening to me?
How is it possible?
Is this what Nico was feeling when he was so distant, those days before he disappeared?
She stops short and lets Jacián steal the ball as she realizes how strange everything was today. “Oh my God,” she says in a strange voice. “Oh my God. I’m going insane.” She flops to the grass, her head pounding, as Jacián comes running over.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
Kendall looks up at him for a long moment. She shakes her head no. And then she bursts into tears. “Something is happening to me!” she sobs.
Jacián drops to the ground next to her, facing her. He reaches out, and she clings to him, burying her face and crying into his neck. He holds her, pats her back, pushes her hair from her face and whispers in her ear. “It’s okay, Kendall. It’s okay.”
“Something weird is happening!” she cries again. “I don’t want to disappear. I thought I might want to . . . to be with him, but I don’t. I don’t want to. I’m so scared.”
Jacián smoothes his hand over Kendall’s hair. “Nobody else wants you to either,” he says.
Marlena, on the porch, hops up on her good foot to get a better look at what’s happening. Jacián waves her off. She scowls and then retreats inside the house to watch from the window.
“I’m so scared,” Kendall says again, a whisper this time.
“Tell me why,” Jacián says. “Do you know something? Did something happen?” He pulls away and looks at her. Wipes the tears from her cheeks with gentle fingers.
Kendall thinks for a long moment, trying to decide. Knowing anything she says about the desk will sound completely loony. “It’s crazy. I’m going crazy. I swear. I can’t tell you why. I—I don’t even know why.”
“What can I do to help you?” Jacián asks. His eyes are filled with concern. There is nothing left of his hardness, his anger from when Kendall first met him.
She can’t tell him. “I just . . .” She bites her lip and then tries to laugh at her own ridiculousness. Because, thinking back on the day, it all seems so crazy. Like she was hypnotized or something. And now it’s like she has snapped out of it. Like it’s probably all just her imagination. “I just need to stop thinking about Nico for a while, I think. Not forget him, just . . . try to let him go a little bit.”
Jacián swallows hard and looks off into the woods for a moment, like he doesn’t know what to say. Then he nods. “Okay . . . um . . .”
“Yeah. So. Can you help me?” She sniffs and wipes her eyes. “Sorry about all the crying.”
“Sure. And I don’t mind. Once in a while, I mean.” He laughs. “I don’t get what I can do to help you, though. Keep you occupied? Like, maybe you and I could go riding tomorrow.”
“Yeah, like that. That sounds good. I’m going to tell my parents that I need to have some time away from all that thinking that happens when I’m working on the farm. They’ll let me. They’re worried.”
“And Sunday, you’re coming for Marlena’s birthday party?”
“Yes,” Kendall says. “Yes. Thank you. Okay.” She sighs in relief. “That sounds good. I hope you don’t get sick of me. You’re a real champ to do this.”
“Well, it’s a hardship, that’s for sure. Just looking at you makes me want to go and . . . do something.”
“Ooh, zinger.”
“Yeah, pathetic. I’ll work on that.”
Kendall hops to her feet, a little embarrassed and ready to end this episode of the ongoing drama. “Okay,” she says. “Ready to finish this game?” She offers a hand.
“The rules say the game’s not over until you assault me with a flagrant foul, you know.”
“Hey, it wasn’t flagrant.” She slaps his head.
Jacián grabs her hand and gets up. “Yesterday? Grabbing me around the waist and tripping me? No, that was really subtle, Fletcher. No call. Now,” he says lightly, though his eyes pierce through her, “let’s see if you can keep your hands off me.” He draws his thumb across her jaw, catching a lingering teardrop.
An unexpected longing pierces her gut, runs through her whole body, and her lips part in surprise. “No problem,” she says. Not quite sure she means it.
WE
We had you. For a moment We had you wrapped inside Our core. You were a cricket in Our web.
Our patience is thin, Our souls shellacked in wood. We need you.
Come back, little cricket.
SAVE ME!
I’M ALIVE.
SAY YES.
TWENTY-ONE
Saturday dawns clear. At breakfast Kendall thinks about school and the desk, and knows it has to be her mind messing with her. Playing tricks. It’s the stress, she knows. Hanging around with Jacián and being normal? It sounds awesome. Riding again? Fantastic. It’s been months.
“You’re off the job for the rest of the season,” her father says. “Do you need to visit your shrink again?”
“Nathan,” Mrs. Fletcher chides.
“Sorry. Your psychologist?”
“I don’t care if you call her a shrink,” Kendall says, mouth full of pancakes. “And no, I think I’m okay. I just need to do some of the old techniques again to control this OCD. I know what to do. It’s just all the time I have to think about Nico in school, and then in the fields . . . it was really getting to me. Making me a little bit crazy.” A lot crazy, to be honest.
“I told you, Nathan,” Mrs. Fletcher says. “This kind of schedule for her was a bad idea, after everything that’s happened.”
“Hey!” Mr. Fletcher says. “Why is everything suddenly all my fault?”
“And then the rejection from Juilliard . . .”
“Yeah, thanks for the reminder,” Kendall says. The mention of Juilliard, the lack of future plans, dampens her mood considerably.
“Sorry,” Mrs. Fletcher says, “but it’s true you need to start thinking about another option sometime soon.”
“But, Mother!” Kendall flops her head onto the table. She knows it’s true.
“Now, where are you going to be today?”
Kendall lifts her head. “I’m going riding.”
“With?”
“With . . . Jacián.” She feels guilty saying it. As if maybe Nico is somewhere l
istening.
“Is Marlena going too?”
“No,” she says wryly, “she’s not quite ready to get back on the horse.”
Mr. Fletcher snickers.
Mrs. Fletcher looks concerned. “Does he know how to ride?”
“Yeah. Marlena said they had horses in Arizona. And he rides Hector’s now and then.”
“You stay close to town, okay? Don’t go too far.” Mrs. Fletcher’s voice is nervous.
“Mother, may I remind you that when the two individuals disappeared, they were in town? We’re probably safer the farther out we ride.”
“I know. I just worry.”
“We’ll be fine. Back by dark.”
“Fine. Call me if you need a ride, though I’ll be out working until sundown.”
Mr. Fletcher drains the last of his coffee and shoves his chair back wearily, ready for another day. “Should be done by week’s end,” he says.
Mrs. Fletcher follows him but stops to give Kendall a peck on the cheek. “Have fun. You could use some fun for once.”
“I will. See you tonight. I’ll call when we’re back at the ranch. You and Daddy are going to Hector’s for dinner tomorrow, right? Did he call?”
“Yes, he called. We’re going to try. We lost most of two days this week because of the rain, you know . . . but Dad and I could use a break too.”
“Cool.” Kendall reaches out and hugs her mother. “Thanks for letting me off work,” she says.
* * *
When Jacián comes to pick her up, Kendall has a backpack filled with water and food, an emergency kit, and a blanket to sit on for lunch. She’s wearing jeans and boots and grabs her jacket and a cowboy hat on the way out.
“You get your deliveries done already?” she asks as they head back to the ranch.
“I did them last night and two this morning. Done.”
“Sweet.”
Back at Hector’s they walk out to the horse barn. Marlena waves forlornly from the window. “She’s pathetic,” Jacián says.