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Maybe now we’d manage to stumble across a boat, if we just walked far enough. And maybe it would be something more than a crappy little skiff. Maybe there’d be a cramped cabin….
My memories of that afternoon with Gabriel were starting to feel as hazy as the fog over the gray river. But the desire to go belowdecks with Shane was crystal clear.
As if my recent failed attempt at tussling with someone from the other side of the tracks had taught me nothing at all.
Well, it’s not like I plan on marrying the kid. I just want to set the boat rocking.And given the way he’d sighed into my mouth back when we were locking lips, I’d wager he would be down for it. But not right this second…given the way he was staring at the spot on the river where Surfer Boy had gone through the grinder. There wasn’t any splatterhouse gore to see, but there might’ve been an odd sheen to the water’s calm surface where the guy’d gone under.
“C’mon,” I said. It sounded forced, way too chipper. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Why bother? We’ve tried following the river—both ways—and we’ve tried walking away from it altogether. But we always end up right back where we started.”
“Then we need to try harder.”
“Fine.” Shane was just humoring me, but at least it would get us moving. He gestured vaguely at the gray landscape. “Lead the way.”
Of course, it would be harmless to turn my back on the kid. He was about as dangerous as the Easter Bunny—but old habits die hard. I mirrored his gesture and said, “After you.”
With an eye-roll, he shrugged and set off across the crunchy gravel. I fell into step beside him. We walked for some time before Shane finally broke the silence with, “Heather had an amazing sense of direction. Once, we were at this party, and things got a little too weird….”
Did he plan on elaborating? He was gazing off into the fog with a faraway look in his eyes. After a long while, he said, “I was tripping pretty hard, and she’d taken more hits than me. Even so, she got us back home. Eventually. Though the sun was up by then, and we saw people getting into their cars in their stuffy business casual, with their huge travel mugs of Starbucks, heading off for work.”
“So you were close in age. Your sister and you.” It was a calculated risk, talking about the girl like she was long gone. But apparently my hunch was right.
“Heather was a year younger, but that wasn’t why I always thought she’d outlive me. She was the smart one. Not, y’know…gullible, like me.”
Whoever had made him feel that way…I wished I could reach back through time and teach them a lesson they’d never forget.
“She wasn’t book smart,” he clarified. “More like street smart. I was the one with all the grades—hah, you can see how far my perfect report cards got me. Anyway, Heather always had this way of knowing exactly when to bail so as not to get caught. And she knew exactly where to score, and where to steer clear. Only thing was, Heather never backed down from a challenge. Dumb challenges, I mean—the dumber, the better. Like, how many Cheetos can you stuff in your nose? Or, bet you can’t get that guy to give you his underwear.
“So, when Luke Branston’s parents were out of town in the middle of January, and he dared her to hop in the swimming pool….”
Shane looked so small. So defeated. Should I put an arm around him…or did he want to feel his pain alone?
“She wasn’t even high at the time,” he said defensively. As if that somehow mattered. “And where was I? Studying for my SATs. Because I’d bombed them the first time, and God forbid, with all mypotential, I end up at a junior college.”
So, by my calculations, his sister would’ve been sixteen—seventeen, tops—when she took her last dare.
“Maybe if I’d been there…not that I’d have stood any chance of rescuing her myself, obviously. But if someone had called 911 just a minute or two sooner…. Funny, though, you know what really haunts me about the whole thing? The dress she was buried in. This stupid pink floral getup. Heather wouldn’t have been caught dead in the thing—pardon the obvious pun. Everything in her closet was black. But there she was, laid out in this ridiculous flowered monstrosity of a dress, all stiff and full of creases, right off the store hanger. She even had one of those pointy plastic tag holders poking out from the shoulder. And there I was, listening to everyone tell my parents how good she looked…and wondering if anyone even knew my sister at all.”
We plodded through the gravel for what seemed like hours—probably just a few awkward minutes—and finally, I said, “Did you ever get to college, then?”
Shane shot me a humorless grin. “What doyouthink?”
7
We walked away from the river. Since aiming for something had only brought us right back to square one, we just put one foot in front of the other. Shane was quiet, and I found myself missing his chatter.
When he finally did pipe up, though, he surprised me by saying, “Tell me something.”
“Okay…what?”
“What’s the last thing you remember? The very last thing?”
You hear that, Gino?
Some things, people just don’t need to know. “It wasn’t as exciting as getting high at some rich fuck’s party, I’ll tell you that much.”
“Exciting?” he scoffed. “No, that ship sailed ages ago. The first few times you jack up, the anticipation is half the fun. But eventually, it just feels more like…dread. Remembering that time you were well and truly blissed out and trying to recapture the feeling. And all the while, knowing you never will again, and you’ll only wind up disappointed—even though it probably wasn’t half as good as you’re remembering anyhow. Chasing the proverbial dragon…. Oh, shit.”
