What I mean is, I haven’t run into anyone quite like him.
“But I’ve seen you go out with people,” he says. His expression turns stony. “I’m different though? Because we kissed? Or is it because of the fights? Because of Tyler?”
It probably should be the fights. Last year, I saw him in the office with Jamie Peterson, sporting swollen knuckles and busted lips. Seems like a good reason. Too bad it’s not my reason.
“Do you believe this?” he asks when I take too long to respond. He turns up his hand until I can see Dangerous scrawled onto his pale skin. “Do you believe I’m violent?”
“Is it still up for debate? How much trouble have you been in this year?”
He shakes his head and stalks forward, his expression cooling. It scares me. “Tell you what, Sera. You want me to tell you all about how dangerous I am? I’ll do that. Let’s play that game.”
I’m not sure I want to play anymore, but when I take a step back, my shoulder blades bump into a tree trunk. And he’s right there, frowning at me.
“That Tyler thing? It was one of my first soccer games in Marietta. Mom and Dad move a lot. All part of their free-spirit stoner ways. Soccer was something I could do in any town, so I did.” He drops his chin, deepening the shadows on his face. “That hit on Tyler was clean. Just a chance collision, but some hits go bad, and this one did. He broke his leg in three different places. Did you know that?”
“Yes.”
“His teammates came after me for months. Did you know that part too?”
I swallow hard.
“I let them go at me in the beginning,” he says. “Couple of black eyes. Bruised kidney. I’m big enough to handle a bit of roughing. Plus, I saw where they were coming from. If it had been my team captain?” He snorts, as if that doesn’t warrant explanation. Then he tips his head so he’s looking right at me. Maybe right through me. “Let’s be clear, Sera. At first, I let them have at it. They wanted someone to blame, and I looked like the right guy for the job. I figured it would blow over…”
He figured wrong. Nothing blows over in Marietta. Marietta has a million perks, but the high school scene features all the small-town drawbacks. My shoulders droop, arms gone heavy.
“Back then, the situation was fine,” he says. “I was handling it. I had the metal shop, and yeah, maybe soccer was a bad idea, but I could still play football…until I couldn’t.”
“What do you mean you couldn’t? I thought you were cleared.”
“It doesn’t matter. No more sports. That was what they decided—my parents and the coaches and the school board and probably some asshole PTA members. They loved that mighty we. We think it’s best. We all want the same thing. We all know you don’t mean to be a danger.”
I don’t know what to say. Nothing will help. Nothing will change what happened. I think of touching him, but he looks as if he might implode, so I stay still.
Lucas closes his eyes. “I never gave a shit what the rest of them thought, but when my parents decided I was a danger? Screw it, you know? If everyone’s determined to be afraid of me anyway…”
“That’s when you decided to fight back,” I guess.
“Maybe. Or maybe I decided I believed them too.”
It’s not what I thought about him. It’s worse because it makes me feel more. Pain spreads up from my middle, squeezing tight in my chest. I think that’s my heart. But hearts lie.
I can’t stand the idea of who I am right now, the girl with shaky knees and stars in her eyes. But when Lucas turns to walk away, I can’t stand that either. I’m torn between impossibilities.
“That word on your arm isn’t you,” I say.
I don’t even know if it’s true, but it means something to him. He draws closer, and then his hands move to my hair, thumbs tracing the line of my jaw as he looks at me. “I’m going to get you out of here, Sera. And when we are home, I’m not going to sit by and shut up if you vanish again.”
My knees turn to jelly. To liquid. To nothing at all. Any second, my legs will turn to dust, and I’ll drop.
“I don’t want to make promises out here. Let’s just get through this,” I say, but it comes out like a whimper.
His thumb drags down the column of my throat. “You don’t have to promise me anything.”
I kiss him this time, my good hand finding his, lacing our fingers together. Our palms connect, and Lucas tightens his hold around my waist, and everything just…disappears. No forest, no killer, no danger. It’s magic. I don’t care if it’s a trick of the light; I am spellbound all the same.
Chapter 19
When we get back to camp, time crawls. Mr. Walker sleeps fitfully, and we stare at each other under filtered moonlight, waiting for the right time. It’s colder tonight. I’m shivering, and sometimes, I can hear a faint tapping that’s probably Emily’s teeth chattering.
I scoot back and catch my left hand on my hip, hissing. It’s a combination of scrapes and blisters from the sled handle, and it’s turning into a real problem. I’ve had plenty of time to dwell on the pain and softly touch around the worst of the scrapes in the darkness. It’s a little warm to the touch. Emily didn’t say much when I asked earlier for her opinion, but I don’t think it’s good. Lucas ripped off one of his T-shirt sleeves for a bandage. It’s better than nothing, I guess.
Jude discreetly dragged a six-pack of water away from the cooler when he headed off for another bathroom break. He’s earning all the letters on his arm tonight. Between the water and telling Emily, I have no idea how he’s pulling it off without getting caught. I never saw them speak, and Emily hasn’t strayed from Mr. Walker’s side, but she knows the plan. I can tell by her expression alone.
Mr. Walker starts to snore low, deep rumbles. Jude lifts his hands in question, but Emily raises one finger. We wait for days. Years. I count the snores because there’s nothing else to do. I’m at eighty-three before Emily finally stands up.
It’s time.
The four of us inch backward from the camp in slow motion. Jude’s fashioned a pack out of an extra shirt I don’t remember seeing, and he’s got the water strapped to his chest like a baby in a sling. The food is gone, save the cracker set and yogurt we left behind.
Maybe twenty yards away, Lucas snaps a stick under his boot. We freeze, and the hair on the back of my neck rises. Did Mr. Walker hear us?
My ears ache, straining for noise. Crickets sing. There’s a muffled hoot in the distance. Mr. Walker snores on.
We tiptoe slowly, inching from tree to tree, following the sound of each other’s footsteps. North. God, I hope it’s north anyway. I’m totally trusting Lucas and Jude on this one. They referred to the sun setting and a couple of other things, and it was all blah, blah, science, blah in my ears.
I scrape my arm across branches and trip over roots at first, but soon enough, I figure out a way to move that doesn’t feel so dangerous. There isn’t much light, but there’s enough to see the tree trunks, columns of black interrupting the gray. I drag my good hand along the bark of each one to steady myself, keeping my steps light until I’m sure there’s nothing to trip on.
Lucas holds the lead, but he moves faster than I’d like. I don’t complain. I want out, and we can’t get out if we tiptoe from one tree to the next. He doesn’t slow until we’ve been walking for at least an hour. I think. Honestly, how would anyone know out here, but when we cluster up around his back, we’re all breathing hard and smelling ripe.
“Are we lost?” Emily asks.
Lucas shakes his head. “No, I just thought…”
Jude snickers. “Please tell me you still remember where north is.”
“Would you just shut the hell up?” Lucas is looking off ahead. He’s very still. Focused. “I thought I heard something.”
Heard what?
I look around, ears straining again. The darkness that had faded in
to the background suddenly rises up like a living thing. Ferns dance around my feet like giant spiders. Soot-black branches groan and creak overhead. Shadows reach for my arms, my face.
I’m going crazy, seeing things where there’s nothing. But I don’t hear what he’s hearing.
“Let’s just keep moving,” Lucas says.
“We’re still heading north, right?” I ask.
“We’re doing good, Spielberg. How’s the hand?”
“Fine.” The lie goes bitter in my mouth. My hand is definitely not fine. It’s seeping and throbbing in time with my pulse. I need real first aid.
Jude and Emily fall back a little, and Lucas nudges my shoulder. “Keep me company in the lead?” he asks.
I laugh. “I can try to—”
I’m cut off when he takes my good hand. The darkness recedes just a little, and the air tastes sweet and clean. Pine needles maybe?
“Do you think Mr. Walker woke up yet?” I ask.
Something clatters off to the west. Lucas stops, and my heart trips. There’s cracking and rustling together. It’s pretty far off, but I’m sure I heard it.
Jude almost stumbles into our back. “What the hell, Lu—”
Lucas stops him with a raised hand, then points in the direction of the noise. He touches his ear, and we all listen.
Silence.
Silence.
Crack. My next breath sticks in my throat. There’s another noise I can’t place after—a sound that goes low and then high. Almost like a bird or an animal.
Or a voice.
It comes again—a high-pitched grunt, like someone is struggling or in pain. Moving in from the west. Another vocalization, and this one’s definitely human.
“No. No.” Emily whimpers. I feel her fingers at my back, twisting in my shirt. I clutch Lucas’s hand tighter while Jude swears over and over. We’re all clustered so tight, we’re breathing the same air, and we still aren’t close enough.
“Let’s move,” Lucas whispers.
We’re moving again, ever north, but fear makes us a stumbling mess. Lucas slams into a tree with a cry. A few feet after that, Jude goes down with a whump. We drag ourselves on. My foot hits a dip in the ground, and my ankle pops, but it’s fine. I’m all right.
We are all grabby hands and harsh breathing now, desperate to escape the owner of that strange voice. We are so close that I don’t know whose sounds are whose or what fingers are on me or which arms I’m grabbing. We’re like one body, moving in an awful, terrified synchronicity up the tree-strewn mountain.
I bang my bad hand and jerk back with a hiss. My foot slips, and everyone scrambles, snagging my arm, even my hair, to keep me from falling.
Tears smear my vision. We’re not going to make it. He’s going to hear us.
Something calls in the distance. “Hello? Hello?”
It’s a girl, a girl, so it can’t be Mr. Walker. My insides unfurl.
Emily gasps. “Is that Madison?”
“I thought you said Madison was dead,” Jude says.
“That’s what we thought,” I say. “There were flies everywhere, so we couldn’t cross the—wait, how did she cross the river?”
“Hello? I need help!”
The thin, raw voice lays me open. It’s definitely Madison.
“Help us! Please, please help!”
Adrenaline slams through my veins, throbbing in every joint. I force myself to answer. “We’re coming!”
Jude snags my arm. In the watery snatch of moonlight filtering through the branches, his eyes gleam. “What if it isn’t them? What if it’s another trick?”
“Please!” Madison calls.
“Jude, it’s Madison!” I shake him off at the sound that follows. I’m not close enough to be sure, but I think it’s sobbing.
Lucas doesn’t seem reluctant after that sound. We all jog down the west side of the hill we just climbed.
“Slow down,” Lucas hisses.
“They need help! Listen to her!”
“You don’t need a broken leg to go with that hand.”
I stumble as if on cue, going down on my right knee in the center of a fern. I smell leaves and my own sweat when I look up.
“OK,” I say, gulping in a breath that goes down like a pill that’s too big. “Slower.”
The clouds clear when we get closer. Or maybe I just shift into some sort of adrenaline-fueled super vision. I’m only sure of the fact that it’s brighter. My feet are suddenly visible. Tree trunks aren’t just muddy black lines on a charcoal canvas—they’re trees.
And then I see Madison.
Long hair and a streaky shirt. She’s sobbing. Holding out a stick like she might beat us to death if we get too close. The moment she recognizes us, she drops the stick and rushes Lucas. Her arms wrap around his middle, and he stands there, shoulders hunched and hands awkwardly patting her shoulders.
She pushes him away suddenly, her face and hair splotched with stains.
“Hurryhurryhurry.” She says it all together, her raspy voice crawling up my spine like centipedes.
“Are you hurt?” Emily asks.
I try another angle. “Where’s Hayley?”
Madison pushes clumps of hair back from her filthy face and starts to pace and mewl. “She’s back—she’s—hurry. Hurry.”
Goose bumps prick up my arms in angry rows. She sounds bad. Half-crazy. Lucas must hear it too because he frowns when she takes his arm in her filthy fingers.
I move closer, but my stupid hand whacks another tree, pain lancing into my shoulder socket. I bite back a howl, and Emily slows beside me, her face pale and round in the darkness.
“I think it’s infected,” she says.
“Yeah,” I say because I already knew that. And there isn’t one thing I can do about it until we get out of here, so I focus on our newest mess. Madison definitely fits the word.
Head to toe, she’s streaked with dark stains I don’t want to identify. Her knees droop, and her legs are pale and thin as sticks. I force myself to reach for her, and my hand shakes at even the barest pat at her sticky, slender arm.
“We’re here now,” I say. “Everything’s all right.”
“No,” she says, licking cracked lips with a swollen tongue. Her eyes are like bruises. She’s dehydrated. I reach for my water, but she can barely hold it. “Ms. Brighton—she’s—Ms. Brighton is—”
“It’s OK.” I pat her again, try to ignore her tacky skin. “We know. We saw.”
Emily pulls her away, and I can see the way Lucas’s face relaxes. Jude still holds back, staying a few feet behind us with his arms tightly crossed over his middle.
“Madison?” It’s Jude. His expression reminds me of Before Jude, the one with attached headphones and eyes that drifted over us like wallpaper. “How did you get across the river? Where is Hayley? Did you see Ms. Brighton?”
“There was a zip line.” Madison clenches her fists with a sharp breath, and my stomach doubles up. “We followed the river for a while and found a zip line.”
“Where is Hayley?” I ask because she’s not here. I don’t ask about Ms. Brighton. I already know too much.
Madison’s eyes go huge and round.
“Where is she?” I ask again.
“It was an accident,” Madison whispers. “Help me.”
She says it again, and blood drains from my face until my cheeks ache and my lips go cold. Mr. Walker’s words ring in my ears. Words about a dead girl and everyone getting it wrong. Is Hayley dead too? What do we have wrong this time?
“Hurry,” Madison says, her voice scratching again like sandpaper. “Hurryhurryhurry.”
Chapter 20
Emily and Jude take the lead following Madison, partly because my lungs are burning and partly because Lucas is holding my hand and keeping us back from the group.
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I step over something. A root, a branch, some horrid nature thing. I hate trees now. The smell of them, the feel of them. I’m pretty sure as long as I live, I’ll never voluntarily step foot in a forest again.
Emily falls with a cry, clutching her ankle. She’s back up fast but obviously favoring her left foot. I knock into Lucas’s side. He scrapes past a briar. No sleep makes you clumsy, I guess.
Lucas pulls me closer, “You all right? Your hand?”
“I’m fine,” I say softly. “Better than Emily. A hell of a lot better than Ms. Brighton or even Mr. Walker.”
He leans in, those rough fingers grazing the back of my arm, his hair brushing my neck briefly. “We could head north, Sera,” he whispers. “Right now. Just you and me.”
“What?” I catch myself and drop my voice, pulling even closer. Our gait is awkward like this, but I can’t let them hear us. “We can’t do that. We can’t just leave them.”
“We can.” He looks around, shakes his hair out of his eyes. “I’m getting paranoid as shit around here. Especially with you at the center of all this.”
“So?”
“So, I’m growing a chivalrous side or something,” he says, stepping over a log. He helps me next, whispering, “I want you out of here, Sera.”
“Because I’m too weak to take care of myself?”
He stops dead, his mouth so soft that I’m tempted to test it with my thumb. “No,” he says. “Because you’re the only one here who matters.”
I hold my breath, and Lucas looks up at the sky like he’s praying. Maybe he is. I can hear the click of a hard swallow. The hollow of his throat is right in front of me. Right in front of me.
I feel druggy and heavy, like I’m going to lean in. At the last second, I put up my hand, and it lands on his stomach, palm flat and fingers spread. I feel his heartbeat in my knees.
“Whatever this is, it’s seriously messed-up timing,” he says, sounding strained.
I jerk my hand back and press it to my own chest. My heart is thumping at a crazy rate. Too fast. “It’s a chemical thing because of the danger. Jude says so.”
He laughs. “What?” I don’t know how to explain, but he steps back, and I feel cold. “Last chance. We split off now and run. Will you come?”