Page 33 of We Already Dug the Grave

There was another click, and I stuck up my middle finger just as the flash went off.

“Are you done now?” I tried to sound the way I used to sound when we bantered, but my words held too much bite, overcompensating for the butterflies in my stomach.

“I think so,” he said. There was a rustle of fabric as he shoved the camera into the pocket of his baggy army surplus coat.

I turned back to the sound of the creek, hoping he’d sit next to me, maybe we could prop against each other the way we used to.

“Come on.” Casey nudged my back with his leg. “Get up.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Too bad. I didn’t drive over here to watch you sit and mope.” Another rustle of fabric, then a small beam of light sliced through the darkness.

Of course he’d have a flashlight. Casey should’ve been a Boy Scout. He was always prepared.

“Let’s go.” He walked past me, through the trees.

“Fine.” I pushed to my feet and followed him through the brush, to the edge of the shallow creek.

“Remember when we used to skip rocks?” He bent and picked up a stone.

“Yeah.” I remembered when I skipped stones and Casey threw rocks at the water, never quite able to get the hang of it. I kept this to myself.

He reared back and sent the stone flying. It landed with a splunk, sinking immediately. Guess some things never changed. “So.” He shined the flashlight over the creek bank. “You going to tell me what’s got you upset, or…?”

Light glinted off the perfect skipping stone. It was thin and flat, wide but not too heavy. I picked it up.

“Nothing. I told you I’m fine.” I cocked my arm and sent my rock sailing. Casey pointed the flashlight, and we watched as my stone arced over the water before skittering across the surface and finally disappearing.

“Still got it,” he said, and I smiled. For a moment, my life wasn’t falling apart.

We silently tossed a few more, mine skittering gracefully, his plopping. “Milly, come on. I know you. Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing. Just stupid family drama.”

“You mentioned that the other day, about Frances. What’s going on?”

I frowned.

“It’s just…” Maybe it was okay to tell him part of it without breaking my promise. Wouldn’t it feel good to get at least some of it off my chest, like letting air out of a balloon before it burst? “Frances said she might not go to the Tennessee Math & Science School.”

“What?” His arm fell to the side, taking the light with it. “What do you mean? She’s gotta go. It’s all she’s talked about for years.”

“That’s what I said. But she won’t listen.”

He swept the light across the ground as he spoke. “I wouldn’t worry. You know what an introvert she is. It’s probably nerves.” Casey stopped, suddenly. He bent his knees, squatting to the ground. “What the hell?”

I watched as he stood, the flashlight tucked under his arm, something cradled in his hands. “Take the light,” he said. “Shine it over here so I can get a better look.”

I did as he asked and before I knew it, he was holding up a baby turtle. It was no bigger than the first stone I’d skipped, and it was tangled in fishing line, trapped in a knot of sticks and leaves. The little creature’s eyes stared blankly, and for a horrified second I worried it was dead, relieved when its front legs twitched.

“Poor thing.” Casey pulled a pocketknife from his coat, the same knife he’d pilfered from his dad years ago and used to carve our initials into the climbing tree. I held the light as he carefully cut away the fishing line, then sat the tiny turtle on the ground. Silent minutes stretched out as we watched the little turtle, unmoving near the water’s edge, each of us letting out a deep breath when it finally scurried away.

Casey looked at me. I could feel it. His stare always had weight to it.

“What?” I faced him.

“You’re beautiful when you smile like that, you know,” he said, dipping his chin.