“Jeez kid, you’ve got guts!”
“I have seven days left.”
Oliver sat on the couch, motioning for Benji to join him. “May 23rd?”
“Yeah, at night.”
“She give you a time?”
“11:59.”
Oliver folded his hands in front of his face, pressing his nose against his thumbs. “I see.”
“You mean you believe me?”
“It’s not that I believe you.” His voice was muffled from his hands. “I simply believe it’d be ignorant of me to think I know everything about this world. And if you trust this girl enough to come here, of all places, then perhaps there’s truth to what you say.”
Oliver cleared his throat. He waited for the man to speak, but he never did, so Benji continued. “I opened it after an argument with a friend. She was mad at me, and she told a secret that turned my mom against me. I was frustrated and—”
“Until you accept that life will go on without you, you might as well be living this week dead. That’s something I’ve learned up here.” He set his arms down. “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”
Benji ran his fingers through his wavy hair. “Leave Wishville.”
“And what’s stopping you?”
“My friends always get in the way. And when I come back from the bridge, it’s like I’m stuck here.”
“That’s a lie. You’re standing in the way of yourself.”
Benji could have left during the night, without any written plans. No one would’ve predicted it. If he wanted to, he could’ve left tonight, but he didn’t. Despite how much time he had left, he stayed.
Maybe Oliver was right.
“You’re not letting yourself leave because you know you aren’t ready yet.”
He pictured his failed escape. He practically gave up after one try. Every day, every hour, every minute since then was a missed opportunity to leave.
“No one wants to be forgotten. You’re attached to Wishville because you don’t have a legacy to leave behind. So let me ask you again. What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”
Benji didn’t have to think. “I’ve always wanted to do something different. To bring some color to this place.”
“Accomplish that, and passing the bridge should be a piece of cake.”
“And then what?”
“You’ll be ready for anything that comes.”
“You mean, I’ll be ready to die?”
Oliver chuckled. “Look, I’m not some kind of all-knowing being. But I do think that your purpose is to bring some change to this devil of a town.”
“All of that? Change Wishville, leave town?” Benji tapped his foot against the floor. “Mr. Stricket, I only have seven days.”
“I hate Stricket. Call me Oliver. Now tell me, Benji. Is this really what you want?”
“What?”
“Are you sure you want to leave?”
Benji nodded.
“Say it.”
“I want to leave.”
“This is your choice, okay?” A storm struck the ocean of his voice. It was rapid, unpredictable, defensive. “If you leave, I have nothing to do with it.”
“How about you?” Benji frowned. “Are you ready to die?”
Oliver leaned into the couch. “Well, there is this one regret I’d like to resolve first. But it’s not important.” His shoulders were tense. “This is about you.”
They sat in silence on the highest-standing building in town. Together on the forbidden hill. Benji couldn’t understand how everyone saw Oliver as crazy. He wasn’t normal, but he was kind. And kindness wasn’t a valid reason to make him an outcast.
“I should go.” Benji stood. “Oliver?”
“Yes?”
“Could I come back tomorrow?”
“You’re always welcome here.” He didn’t stand. “But whatever you do, don’t tell anyone about your visits.”
CHAPTER 13
grass
James tuned out the haunting chatters of the hallway as he entered his combination. Inside his locker was an organized arrangement of textbooks, sorted by the order of his classes, and a stack of books on the second shelf, stacked from least enjoyable to his second-favorite. He spun his books around so the spines no longer faced him, the sight of their familiar titles nauseating.
Chloe appeared next to him with a glass container in the cup of her hands. “Aw darn, you beat me.” She reached inside the glass and pulled out a cookie. “Thought I was always the extra-early one.”
James nodded, a vague sign of acknowledgment. He pulled out his English textbook from the far left side of his locker and slid it into his empty backpack. By the time he shut his locker, Chloe had already moved on to her second cookie.
“What are you staring at?” She chuckled, cookie crumbs smeared across her chin, chocolate chips blended around her mouth like dark lipstick. “You want one?”
James retrieved a cookie from the glass. It was warm.
“Whoa, there. I was kidding.” She stepped away, playfully shielding the remaining cookies with her open arm. “Since when do you eat sweets?”
His jaw tensed as he sunk his teeth through it.
“So, what do you think?”
“Dry.”
Sam joined them in their hallway gathering. He could tell something was brewing in her mind by the way she picked at the callouses on her fingers and hummed a solo violin piece as Chloe spoke proudly of her overbaked cookies.
“Probably my best work.” Chloe shut the container with a snap of the lid. “Sam, you good?”
She stopped humming. “What?”
“You dying or something?”
Sam threw her back against the lockers and glued it there. “Just tired.” There was no explanation. No rant. Sam’s two-word statement must have been the record for her shortest complaint.
While Sam lurked in her own mind, Chloe trying to coax her out of it, James ate the last bite of his brick cookie.
Normally Benji would show up right before the bell rang, pushing time to its limits. He was the type to walk slower if he was on track to arrive five minutes early. He enjoyed seeing how close he could come to being late without actually being marked tardy. James assumed he did it for the thrill. Something to quench that everyday thirst for adventure that would otherwise devour him from the inside.
But today, Benji walked passed them with a familiar spark in his eyes. The kind of spark James saw him wearing on the bridge that day.
It was 7:34. Twenty-six minutes before class. Some kids were already at school for morning club meetings, socializing, studying for a first-period test, or with an intense fear of showing up late. But Benji? Coming this early was unheard of.
He rushed by, hands tucked in his sweatshirt pocket. His focus glazed right over them.
“Benji!” Chloe called.
He stopped, and the stiffness of his arms gave James the impression he knew they stood there all along.
“I made these last night.” She lifted the glass container. “Come try one.”
Benji looked at James, his smile softening before turning away. “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t have much time. I’m sure they’re great though.”
“You’re early.” Chloe ran her hand down her braided hair. “What do you mean you don’t have time?”
Benji was trapped in the hallway sea. Students washed around his sides, joking about Coach Hendrick’s new green whistle, complaining about the morning fog. He was disconnected from his friends, but he made no effort to step closer and penetrate the water that divided them. “I’ll see you guys later.” As he merged with the flow of middle school traffic, Sam banged her fist against the lockers.
“That kid.” She pulled her hand away, shaking it with a wince. “Thinks it’s all about him.”
Before Chloe could say anything, Sam pushed off into the sea Benji had disappeared in only moments ago. As James watched the two of them move away, his blood simmered. The isolation was warm, comforting, and he wanted to go there too.
Chloe undid her braid. “I feel like I missed something.” She combed her fingers through her hair to loosen the unnatural coils. “Are they still mad about lunch yesterday?”
James remembered all the lunches they shared together. How many hours was it combined? How much time did he waste wandering the halls, chatting with three kids whom he shared nothing in common with? He watched the ocean through the hallway window. The waves twisted in unison with the movement of students in the hall, and he joined them, submersing himself.
One, two, three . . .
Chloe called after him, but he didn’t hear. The only noise that filled him as he walked alone to class was the roaring of numbers in his head.
Nine, eight, seven . . .
James and Sam sat alone at their desks before the bell rang, distracting themselves to the point that they didn’t notice each other. James pulled out his book after a few moments, simply by habit, but managed to stop himself before opening it. His fingers tightened around the cover of Sharpner’s Peak.
Two, three, four . . .
He set the book down.
His classmates trickled into the room, but his counting was too loud for him to notice. By the time Chloe walked in, his mind was in another world.
As usual, Benji arrived seconds before the first bell rang. James stopped counting when he realized that Benji had come to school early, but not to class. Benji slipped into his seat, sweating, holding his heavy breaths in an effort not to draw attention to himself. To most, his appearance was normal, unnoticed, but when James looked closer, he saw grass splattered across Benji’s socks like paint.
CHAPTER 14
calendar
Benji’s desk drawers were crammed with useless junk. Old exam scores. Some candy wrappers. A school calendar.
Wait, a calendar. That could work.
He lifted it from the drawer of rubbish like rescuing a drowning child from the water. Each student had received one on the first day of school. He never used them, no one did, but this week would be an exception.
Benji sat at his desk with a red pen. He flipped to the May page and inhaled the dusty air.
Wrapping his cold fingers around the pen, he brought it closer to the 23rd day. In two heavy strokes, he drew a large X through the pristine, empty square. Such a random day. He knew no one with a birthday on the 23rd. Not one holiday on that date. Yet here he was, witnessing such a random day become the most important one in his life.
“Six days left.” He folded the earlier month pages over the spine before slipping the calendar into an empty drawer of his desk. “I won’t die in this town.”
He unpacked his backpack, shoving his homework into the top drawer of his dresser, which he had designated to be his homework drawer. All of his work from the past week was sitting there waiting for him. He had placed them inside with the intent of eventually catching up, but now that the clock was ticking, was there even a point? He added today’s assignments onto the heap of papers and shut it. His back muscles loosened.
The sketchbook on top of his desk caught his attention. He turned a few pages, observing the colorful landscapes and buildings. One by one, he flipped through, soaking in the details, until all that greeted him were white pages. After shutting his sketchbook, he tossed it into the drawer along with his worthless homework assignments.
The final task on his list for today was to make dinner. By the time Rebecca got home there was a cold platter of fish on the table, and a side of salad and green beans straight from the can. Nothing extravagant, but it was the best he could do. Rebecca stared at Benji, and he stared back, pulling the widest grin he could handle.
“What’s all this?”
“Thought I’d make dinner.” Benji slid two plates onto the table before plopping into his usual seat. “And I wanted to apologize. About trying to leave and all.”
Rebecca nodded as she sat. “Actually, I think I might’ve been harsh on you as well. I was—you know—worried I might lose you too. You’re what keeps me living.” She plated her meal and took a few bites of undercooked fish. “I’m really shocked you did all this. You’ve never been the type to apologize first. I don’t remember you being so mature.”
“I guess I’m just getting older.”
When Rebecca had finished her plate, she set down her fork and sighed. “I’ll accept what you tried to do, but you need to promise me that you’ll never do it again.” She shook her head. “Okay? I don’t even want you thinking about getting near that bridge. Not even—”
“Don’t worry, Mom.” Benji smiled, and it hurt. “I promise.”
CHAPTER 15
audrey
“Um . . . hi?” Lauren faced him at the door. Her hair was a tangled mess, and she was still dressed in her pajamas. Benji knew it was odd for him to randomly show up at her home. He hadn’t been to Lauren’s place since she first moved out of her parents’ house and Rebecca brought her a bag of cookies to celebrate.
“Can I ask for a favor?”
“It better be important, shortie.” Lauren stepped aside. “I don’t like waking up for no reason.”
Benji trailed after her. “I woke you?”
“What, you think I’m an early riser?” Lauren laughed as she shut the door behind them.
Her house was exactly how he remembered it. Light seeped through the many curtainless windows, giving the bamboo floors a dewy glow. The only piece of decoration she had in the room was a single cactus plant displayed at the center of her oak dining table. Lauren had always been a simple person. She never cared for unnecessary furniture, unless coffee and espresso machines counted. She had five of those lined up against the kitchen counter. Benji assumed it was more for aesthetics than functionality. She would’ve been fine without one, considering she spent most of her daylight hours at Seaside Cafe.
“Benji?”
“Huh?”
“The favor.”
“Oh, right!” Benji reached for his head, running a hand through his hair. “I wanna get rid of it.”
Lauren leaned against the kitchen island. “Get rid of what?”
“My hair.”
“Um . . .” Lauren frowned. “You want me to shave your head?”
Benji’s eyes widened. “No. Oh, gosh no. Just cut it.”
“Cut your head?”
“My hair.”
Lauren smiled in disbelief. “Benji, you’ve had that same haircut since you were little.”
“So?”
“Why would you wanna change it all of a sudden? It’s cute.”
“No, it’s not cute. It’s annoying.” Benji flicked his hair so it fell over his face, covering his eyes. “If it’s like this I can’t see.”
“Easy. Don’t push it in your eyes like that.”
He pushed his hair aside, and their eyes met. Tension grew until Lauren finally snapped.
She sighed. “Okay.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “But Rebecca knows about this, right?”
Benji narrowed his eyes. “Does she own my hair?”
“Good point.” She headed toward the hallway. “I’ll do it, but I’m getting changed first. Eat some cereal or something. You know where it is.”
“You know I don’t eat breakfast.”
“Well you do in this house.”
* * *
The hallway was filled with eyes. Eyes of all kinds of colors and shapes—completely different from each other in every way—yet all drawn to the same subject. Benji was too lost in his own world to care, and the eyes were too shy to step into such an unfamiliar land. They backed aside.
A fear infected the students of Wishville Junior High. Benji’s haircut was frightening. Drew eyes to him only to scare the eyes away. This unfamiliar world Benji was in—the place his eyes were lost in—something about it made the students uneasy.
Sam couldn’t watch. She stared at her sneakers and hummed a new song, and Benji, recognizing it, hummed along as he staggered down the hall. Chloe came toward him, smiling at first, but when Benji noticed her, stepped aside as though she had seen a stranger for the first time. Benji progressed down hall. He he saw James shut his locker and disappear toward the classroom door, not a single glance in his direction.
“Is that you, Marino?” Jett blocked Benji’s way in the hall, hands in his pockets and slouching with a spine made of goop. The fear didn’t faze him. “Gosh, you turn into more of a freak each day.”
Benji stopped, Jett proving not to move out of the way. “Well,” Benji said, “you’re not wrong.”
The hallway children shifted through him. Benji was a ghost. They saw him and were frightened, so they now moved past him, trying to convince themselves that he wasn’t real, that he couldn’t exist, that what they saw was fake.
“You cut your hair.” There it was. Jett said it.
Benji nodded. “I did.”
“You cut it . . . weird.”
“You think?” Benji ran a hand through his short hair, his face calm. “Thanks, thought I’d go for something new.”
Jett narrowed his eyes at Benji, and Benji smiled back. Two silver moons rested on his starry cheeks. He didn’t care what Jett said, didn’t bother being annoyed by him. Jett was another classmate, another person he’d miss after being gone. Yeah, he’d miss him. He’d miss the class clown, the failing bully, the insensitive jerk that the school tried to deny their love for. He made class slightly more interesting. Brought a few more colors to the dull school they lived in.
“What the hell’s gotten into you?” Jett’s neck was tense, his brows were twisted, and his eyes searched through the blankness. That’s when the fear came. That’s when he felt it, when it hit him like it did the rest of the hall. He took a step back, gripping the straps of his backpack as a lifeline.
Leaving Wishville Page 9
