Page 90 of The Last Special Thing

Amelia’s eyes scanned the events as they unfolded, but the rest of her body remained tense. If she were a statue, no one would notice her. The last thing a girl on shrooms needed was a cop’s attention.

Art dragged his fingers through his dark hair. Madisson crumpled against the wall a few feet from Max. With her head in her hands, her small frame shook uncontrollably.

Amelia’s chest tightened. She wanted to go to Madisson and comfort her. She wrung her hands in apprehension.

Fear won. In addition to the police, crossing the street was monumental. She had a dark feeling that if she stepped onto the road, she would be run over in an instant, like a disappointing game of Frogger.

She turned around on the wall to face the beach. She couldn’t look at them anymore. It was too sad.

On the edge, she took deep breaths, then swung her legs.

Out, back, out, back.

The blue ocean glimmered, full of opportunity and light.

Joy ribboned through her, and her friends became a distant memory.

Someone sat beside her.

“I thought I lost you. I was so scared,” Art said.

“You said you would be right back.” Her words were thin.

“I know, I tried, but Max got into a fight. It was crazy. We went in for one drink, and Madisson was outside since she didn’t have a fake ID. When we came out, this clown was talking to her. I mean, between you and me, Madisson doesn’t necessarily tell people off. She will let them flirt with her, and she doesn’t think anything is wrong with that. But I think there kind of is, you know? That’s why I love you. I trust you a million percent. You would never let another guy even think he has a chance with you.”

Amelia didn’t acknowledge his stream of consciousness. He could have talked for days, and she would have floated through it. His voice was swept up in the tides. When they were together, there was nowhere else she wanted to be. But soon, it would end. She would be going off to UCLA. Things would be different.

“What’s happening inside your head, Amelia?” He gave up the monologue.

“This moment,” she said, reaching over to his hand, tears welling up. “This is special. Being at the beach, being with you. This may be the last special thing.”

“What do you mean?” His eyebrows drew together.

She took a deep breath and tried to form the words. “All the special things in my life may be over after this. I don’t know what will happen when I move, and even today, when I turn back around, Max will be in a cop car, and Madisson will be a mess. Right now, in front of us, could be the last special thing.”

Art pressed his fingers to his temple, a sigh through his lips.

She wanted him to view the world her way. Pointing to the sky, she said, “There’s the double rainbow over there.”

Gesturing to the cliffs, she asked, “Do you see how those sparkle?”

Arms wide open. “The rays of the sun are dancing on me. How incredible is that?”

Staring deep into his eyes, blue and promising as the ocean, she explained with sincerity, “All this is special, and I’ve never even noticed it before. When I turn back around, all of this will be gone!”

“You haven’t ever seen it before,” he corrected. “The rocks are covered in bird shit. There aren’t any rainbows. The sunshine is fucking blinding, but it’s not dancing.”

So, her version wasn’t exactly real, but what was real anyway? In the world in front of her, there were rainbows, sparkles, and sun rays, and she desperately wanted to cling to that version of her life. She didn’t want to turn around.

But he did. Art, prone to chaos, twisted around. He sighed. She sighed back. They were back to being a boat and a train, like the acid trip.

After a heavy silence, he said, “I’m going to check on Max.”

Pushing himself up from the ledge, he left her. Sadness flooded her, but it would be worse to follow him. Pastel raindrops dripped off the double rainbow, crying into the infinite sea.

Time passed, but she couldn’t keep track of how much. Her stomach rumbled, a growing mix of angst that she was alone, and that she hadn’t eaten since a croissant on her way to Art’s that morning. She pulled out her phone. He answered on the first ring.

“Amelia?” he asked.