To Break a Covenant

by Alison Ames

  “Of course you are. Now that you’re doing better with math—”

  “Nina. I don’t want to go to college.”

  She looked at me then, genuinely surprised. She almost laughed a little. “What?”

  “I don’t. I can’t afford it, and I don’t …” I waved my hand halfheartedly. “I don’t know, I just don’t want to.”

  “Clem. We’ve been talking about going to school together since sixth grade. Even Lisey wants to at least move away with us.”

  “I know, and I don’t—I don’t want us to be apart, but—”

  “But what?”

  “But I don’t know! I just—now that it’s more real, I …” I couldn’t figure out how to finish the sentence.

  She folded her arms and looked at me. “So, what. You’re just not gonna go to college.”

  “I don’t know yet, Neen. I didn’t say I’m definitely not going. I just—”

  “You just don’t want to go with me.”

  “What? Why are you being so—”

  “I thought we had a plan, Clem.” She was talking too loud, her voice high like she was about to start crying. “I thought we were going to leave together, go out into the world and do something—”

  A tear slipped down her cheek and she swiped it away.

  “Whatever. Fine. Stay here forever. I just thought we wanted the same thing.”

  We did want the same thing. We wanted to stay together. But it needled me that she was so set on this one specific thing—this idea that we had to leave. She always had such a clear vision of the future that I never needed my own, but for the first time, I didn’t agree with it.

  “Well, why don’t you go to a state school?”

  “Great, perfect, so you’re going to have me ruin my future—”

  “Wow, it would ruin your future to stay in the Basin? It would ruin your future to not have to pay fucking tuition at—”

  “Scholarships, Clem, don’t be obtuse—”

  “I don’t have the grades for scholarships,” I snapped. “I don’t play a sport. I am academically average at best. There is literally nothing about me that would compel anyone to give me a free ride, let alone an Ivy, except maybe the fact that my dad got yanked into a thresher and shredded like cheese when I was a kid. What do you think, do you think that’ll do it?”

  She sank back onto the floor like I’d slapped her.

  “Good things don’t happen to people who leave town, Nina,” I said, staring at the floor, trying to will the anger away.

  “What are you even talking about? Are you really trying to blame the Basin—”

  “What do you think happened to your mom?”

  As soon as it left my mouth, I knew I’d gone too far. We didn’t talk about Nina’s mom. We didn’t talk about the people who disappeared. I knew better. The I’m sorry I needed to say lodged behind my lips and I couldn’t get it out. Nina’s mouth crimped into a tight flat line and she wouldn’t look at me.

  “Okay, well,” she said, her inflection indicating that she hadn’t really meant for anything to come after those words. “I’ll just—”

  She pushed herself to her feet. Her face was flushed and her eyes were still glittery. She kicked the book across the floor to me. “In case you change your mind.”

  Then she turned on her heel and left the trailer, shutting the door quietly so as not to wake my mother. I balled up one of the sheets of paper and threw it hard at the wall. It bounced off and fell behind the TV. I flopped back onto the floor.

  After about half an hour of staring at the ceiling, I kicked my feet into sandals and banged out of the house. I wanted to go to the cemetery, but if Nina decided to look for me that was the first place she’d go. I walked for a while with the sun beating down on me, sweat rolling down my face, and gradually I realized I was heading for the bridge.

  The Moon Basin River Bridge is high and arched and made of stone, shrouded by willow trees that have been dying slowly for years. It’s a narrow footpath, worn smooth and treacherous, and the sides are low enough that you could easily fall over them. Or jump if you wanted.

  It was cool in the shade of the willows and I settled down on my back, hiking my shirt up to let my skin touch the stone. I lay there, feeling my way through my anger, watching the light shift as the wind swayed the willow branches ever so slightly. I could feel my sweat puddling under me.

  I had reacted too strongly. I knew that. I wasn’t signing a blood oath to leave the Basin by taking the PSATs. And even if I was, what exactly was keeping me here? Was I actually against leaving, or …

  The possibility that I might actually believe the shit Moon Basin sold the tourists had never occurred to me, but it had bubbled up from inside me like it had been there all along. Good things don’t happen to people who leave. Was that thought really my own?

  It was natural to believe the Basin was haunted. It was just part of us. Some towns were lobster towns; we were a ghost town. Ghost tourism, ghost key chains. I went to Moon Basin and all I brought back was this T-shirt (OR WAS IT???). It was our industry. It sustained us. But there weren’t lobsters holding anyone captive up in Maine somewhere. This couldn’t be the reason I didn’t want to leave. It couldn’t. Moon Basin was haunted, but it wasn’t evil.

  Right?

  I tried to calm down and organize my thoughts. Be rational. What would it really look like to leave the Basin?

  Maybe after I’d worked at the radio station long enough Cecil would give me a raise. I’d make enough money so that my mom could work less, and I’d see her more. I could move to the city, meet someone, bring her home. Or maybe I’d move to Connecticut with Nina when she got into Yale. Her in law school, me doing—something. They had community radio at Yale, probably. Maybe I could be a swimming instructor, a lifeguard at the beach, knifing through the waves to rescue chubby toddlers who’d floated out of their parents’ grasp. I could drive a cab. I could get serious about art and apply to school somewhere, a correspondence course, maybe.

  I closed my eyes, putting my arm over my face. It all seemed so theoretical, so impossible, and I didn’t know why. I didn’t want to think about it. I just wanted to let things happen. If I woke up one morning and decided I wanted to leave after all, I could figure my way out from there. It just seemed stupid to do all this preparation for something I didn’t know I’d want—if I’d even be able to do—when the time for it actually came.

  I felt the presence before I moved my arm. The dappled light changed, becoming a solid heaviness above my eyes, and I spoke without looking. “I’m sorry I was such a dick.” My words were muffled on my own skin. I pulled my arm away from my face and opened my eyes. “Oh, hi. Shit. I thought you were someone else.”

  The girl standing above me blinked her huge dark eyes. My body registered that she was pretty before my brain did, and I scrambled upright as I tried to formulate another sentence.

  She smiled, teeth brilliant against her deep black skin. “As far as apologies go, that one is a little weak. Direct, but not very …” She flourished her arm. “Elegant.”

  I wriggled my way around as gracefully as I could until I was sitting with my back against the low stone wall that bordered the bridge. “Ah. You think I should go with ‘penis,’ then.”

  She snorted a laugh. “Member.”

  “Fuck stick,” I said solemnly, and she dissolved into giggles.

  “There it is,” she said, taking a breath. She drew herself up, and all of a sudden, a high, fluty English-accented voice was coming out of her mouth. “I do apologize for being such a terrible fuck stick when last we spoke.”

  I laughed. “That might be enough to earn forgiveness, actually.”

  She sat down next to me. “What did you do?”

  I made a face and shrugged. “I was a fuck stick.”

  “Well, yeah, but. Specifically.”

  She tilted her head like she really cared about the answer, like we were already friends. The way she talked, it was like we’d picke
d back up in the middle of a conversation, and it made me feel like maybe I could trust her.

  I decided to roll with it. “I yelled at my best friend because she wanted us to study for the PSATs today and I don’t want to go to college.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “At all?”

  I folded my arms. “Maybe not. And it’s none of your business,” I added, keeping us both in line. Just because it felt like we were friends didn’t mean we actually were. Yet.

  “Sorry,” she said, not looking at all sorry. “It’s just surprising.”

  I didn’t say anything. Who was she to be surprised? She didn’t know me.

  “I just moved here,” she said. “Yesterday.” She was making an offering, letting me know she understood I didn’t want to talk about me anymore.

  “Cool.” I was still a little pissed, but more at myself for sharing in the first place. She was brand new in town; I couldn’t fault her for trying to make friends.

  “My name’s Piper.”

  She looked so hopeful. I relented. “Clem.”

  “Clem?”

  “Short for Clémence.”

  “Mercy.”

  I glanced at her. “Yeah. My dad was French.”

  “It’s pretty.” She stretched her legs out and pointed her toes, flexing her calves. She looked strong, like maybe she was a runner or something. She cracked her neck and looked at me. “I want to go to college. You have to go to college to go to law school.”

  “That’s true,” I said, hoping my annoyance was obvious. I wondered if I should just get up and leave, but I didn’t think I could be that mean. Maybe I could bore her into leaving.

  “My mom’s a lawyer,” she offered after a minute. “I sort of don’t have a choice.”

  “I hope she doesn’t think she’s gonna get any work here.”

  “She does tax law.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “Also, she’s still in Boston. My parents are divorced. Are you saying there’s not any crime here?” There was a playful edge to her voice.

  “I’m saying there’s no crime lawyers here,” I said, a little more nicely.

  “How does that work?”

  “I don’t know. There’s never been, like, a trial. I guess maybe people just plead guilty if they get arrested. Sheriff Nelson’s not exactly known for being chill.”

  She laughed a little rumbly laugh in her chest. I felt myself softening toward her again.

  “So why are you here?” I asked. Why would anyone move here is what I meant.

  She pulled her foot up close to her, resting her chin on her knee. “My dad’s an engineer. The town council wanted him to come and check out the mine and make sure everything is stable.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean, why?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, bemused. “I guess I mean, why now? Like, are we in danger?”

  “Jesus, I hope not,” she said.

  I laughed. It was a stupid question; the mine was closed off for a reason. I should have asked if we were in more danger than usual.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “How long has it been since the explosion? Maybe the city just figured it was time.”

  “Since ‘64, I think,” I said. “Did he tell you the whole story?”

  “Just a little,” she said. “It sounds wicked, though. I’m dying to learn more.”

  “Well, the museum’s in the motel,” I said. “Anson Perry will talk your ear off if you let him.”

  “Might take him up on that.”

  “So it’s a short-term thing, then?”

  “I guess it depends on how big the mine is.”

  I nodded. No one really knew how big the mine was anymore. The company maps only showed the original tunnels, and even before the explosion, the miners were branching out into new areas. It was honestly surprising they’d only hired one guy to check out the entire thing. Then again, the sheriff was very, very serious about keeping people out.

  “I get a haunted summer vacation, at the very least,” she said.

  “We could show you around if you want.” I was surprised by the words, by the fact that I’d said them at all. I still wasn’t even totally sure if I liked this girl. There was something about her, though, something that felt almost familiar, and it made me feel like I wanted her around. I sucked my lips against my teeth, creating a vacuum seal as I tried not to take the invitation back.

  She looked at me with some trepidation. “Are your friends gonna be mad you invited a weird stranger to hang out with you?”

  “Nah,” I said, pushing myself up off the bridge, trying to convince myself as much as her. “Nina will probably like you more than me right now. College dreams and all.”

  She laughed. “Is it just the two of you?”

  “And Lisey,” I answered. “She’s … well, we love her. She’s a little—” I waved my hand like sparkles were coming out of my fingers. “You’ll see.”

  “She sounds delightful,” Piper said as she stood up, and she sounded sincere.

  “I should probably try and patch things up with Nina,” I said. The sun was getting lower in the sky, blue giving way to tendrils of orange bleeding into pinky-purple dusk. Old Town was west of us, so the sun set through the ash, and it was always gorgeous. “Do you live nearby?”

  “In town,” she said. “The big yellow house right on the edge near—”

  “Near the gas station.” I nodded. “Cool. Maybe we’ll come by tomorrow?”

  “Sure,” she said.

  We walked together through the cornfield, and then we went our separate ways.

  I knocked on Nina’s door when I got home and no one answered, so I crossed the yard to our place and let myself in. The smell of butter and tortillas frying hit my nose immediately, and my heart squeezed.

  “Migas,” I said, and Nina came out of the kitchen holding a spatula.

  “Migas,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry.” I hugged her. “I was so out of line. I was being shitty.”

  “Well, I was being pushy,” she said, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “So we’re even.”

  “I’ll hang out with you while you study next weekend,” I offered. “Maybe I’ll even learn something.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t be cute. I’m not ready to joke about it.”

  It stung like a paper cut, but I knew she was right. I couldn’t just skip past the hurt feelings. We were both still a little tender, and that was okay. We were still us.

  “I met someone today,” I said, following her back into the kitchen and sliding into a chair.

  She gave a little yelp. “A someone someone?”

  “No, no. At least, I don’t think so. She is really pretty, though. But I don’t think so.”

  She made a face and turned back to the stove.

  “I told her she could hang out with us.”

  “She must be pretty.”

  “Shut up.”

  “What if I object?”

  I felt a brief pang of worry. “Do you?”

  She took the pan off the burner. “Nah. But I’m just saying.”

  “You didn’t ask me if I wanted to be friends with Lisey,” I reminded her. “And look how well that worked.”

  She scooped a mound of eggs into a bowl, topped it with cheese, and handed it to me. “True.” She sat down across from me with her own bowl. “Four is a nice round number.”

  “Square,” I said through a mouthful. She rolled her eyes.

  “Did she just move here?”

  “Yeah, her dad is doing something with the mine. Making sure it doesn’t collapse or something.”

  She put her fork down. “Is that a possibility?”

  “Apparently.”

  Nina grimaced. “Well, I hope he’s really good at his job, then.”

  She was mostly joking, but I felt the tug of anxiety under her words. She could ignore it when people said the mine was dangerous because it was haunted—she didn
’t believe in ghosts. But she had no choice but to believe in actual, physical danger.

  “It’ll be fine,” I said. “You can ask him about it tomorrow, when we hang out with her.”

  Her eyebrows arched wickedly. “I hope she can handle it.”

  We finished our dinner and Nina left, saying she needed to spend some time with her dad. I washed dishes and thought about the mine stretching out underneath the town like some long, twisted creature, looking up at us, waiting for something. When I finally fell asleep I didn’t dream, which felt like a blessing.

  When Nina showed up at my door the next morning she was holding a plastic container filled with cookies.

  “You’re really amping up the new-friend hazing,” I remarked as we set off toward Lisey’s. “I truly don’t know if she’ll be able to handle it.”

  She gave me a tiny sideways glare and then hip-checked me gently into a mailbox. It was too hot to talk; we walked in silence as the sun rose higher in the sky, and by the time we got to Lisey’s we were both drenched in sweat. I scooped up a bunch of little pebbles and started throwing them at the side of the house.

  “One of these days you’re gonna break that window,” Nina said.

  “Listen, I never know when her parents are home, and we don’t have an hour to talk to Mrs. Bossert about crystals today.”

  “The mystical properties of the yoni egg demand a lengthy explanation, Clem.” Nina smirked and leaned against the fence. After a few more rocks pinged off the glass, the window slid up and Lisey’s hair floated out, followed by her face.

  “Hi!” she said, sounding surprised.

  “Hey,” I called, trying to keep my voice down. “Come out.”

  She flashed a hand—five minutes—and pulled her head back inside.

  Three minutes later her front door swung open and she emerged, halfway through a pink shirt, her white belly glowing in the sun.

  “Hey,” she said through the fabric. Her hair crackled with static as she pulled her head through the hole. “What’s up?”

  “New friend,” said Nina ominously. “Maybe.”

  “Definitely,” I corrected. “Probably.”

  “Ooh,” said Lisey. “Let me get my whistle.”

  She darted back inside, returning a moment later with the little silver tube clutched in her hand. “Okay.” She shoved it into her fanny pack. “Rock and roll.”