Not that she had anything to worry about, Paul had thought as he and Dani had walked past her and conversed briefly before coming into this room to set out their study notes. Parents could hardly stay on top of kids one hundred percent of the time, even with cell phones. And yes, when no one was around, he and Dani did hold hands. They'd kissed hello and goodbye a few times. But Paul was just as glad that so much of his time was occupied with school and soccer. Sure, he was interested in girls, but there was shyness that he couldn't explain, which he felt around girls, especially the ones like Dani who showed a girl-boy interest in him. The fact was that, even though it was possible to sprain an ankle or even break a leg in soccer, he felt far more comfortable playing that than he did sitting here with Dani.
But she was fun to hang out with. They both liked fantasy movies like Lord of the Rings, and they both liked to read science fiction. Dani was one of the smartest girls in their class, and she had a solid A going in history, while he had missed some of their reading assignments even though the subject interested him. But soccer practice always came first. So when he and Dani saw each other in the hallway between classes, he'd asked if she wanted to study after school. His mom had dropped him off at the Ordway house ten minutes earlier.
Dani was blonde, energetic and witty, and today she wore her hair in a ponytail. She wore jeans, flip-flop sandals that showed off her painted toenails, and a white blouse that revealed as much midriff as her mom would allow, which wasn't much.
She had seemed to view him with some concern when he first showed up and rap-rapped on their front screen door, though she hadn't said anything at first. And Dani's mom, when she welcomed Paul with a pleasant "Hi," had seemed similarly to scrutinize him the same way, as if he didn't look quite himself but they weren't sure why, and he must not have looked bad enough for either of them to come right out and say something
Until Dani's point-blank question over their homework.
She said, "Do you want me to get you a glass of water?"
He closed his eyes and massaged his eyes with the fingers of one hand. This was embarrassing.
"Yeah, please. That would be nice. I'm sorry about this, Dani. I don't know what's wrong."
"Don't be silly. You don't have to apologize. I'll be right back." She grinned on her way out. "Maybe you're just intimidated by brainy females."
But of course he did know what was wrong.
He hadn't felt this way since before his mom and dad's divorce. He felt lightheaded, his stomach balled up with cramps. He had that old feeling that the only thing in the world that would save him at this instant would be to run away fast as he could. But he could not do that.
When he and his mother had lived at home, he'd felt this way all the time, especially when Mom and Dad were arguing. It had been a way of life for him then, but from the day Mom had moved them out until this day, that anxious impulse to flee had diminished to nothing. But that's how he felt now, sitting at the table in Dani's home.
Paul felt uncomfortable. The windows facing the backyard, where her brother and some of his friends played, looked out at the mountain range beyond the rooftops of Devil Creek. Paul had become familiar with the foothills near his house. He wished now that he hadn't come here to study with Dani, that he'd just gone home after school. Then he could have run up one of the mountain trails he knew, and maybe he would never stop running, never turn around and come back. He was glad that no soccer practice had been scheduled for this afternoon. He would have turned in a rotten showing.
And he wasn't the only one who had been bent out of shape by the sudden appearance of his father at school that morning.
He hadn't seen his mom for the remainder of the school day after breaking the news to her in her office. It was usual for them not to see each other during the course of a normal school day.
Sometimes he rode the school bus home, but the road they lived on was one of the last on the bus route and what was a quick car drive became a forty-five minute journey when he took the bus. Mom nearly always worked late in her office, like most of the teachers did, and he had soccer practice three afternoons a week. Usually, he and mom would meet by the Subaru in the parking lot. If Mom got there first and was waiting for him, she would generally be sitting behind the steering wheel, grading papers or reviewing other schoolwork. He often thought that his mom had as much or more homework on any given night than he did! If he showed up first at the car, he would pass the time visiting with friends or, if no one was around, working on his homework or, more likely, catching up on his science fiction reading. But the one thing that was nearly always the same was the smile Mom would have for him, and he nearly always enjoyed their ride home when she would ask him about his day and he would tell her, with the radio playing softly as they drove along.
But today, Mom had seemed really upset. Her mouth was pinched at the corners, where he could see tiny lines that weren't usually there.
They nearly had a fender-bender, pulling out of their parking space in the half-full school parking lot, because Mom wasn't paying attention. She'd said a word that she would have jumped all over Paul for using, and after making absolutely certain that their way was clear, with Paul confirming this aloud from the passenger seat, she had backed out. Most of the drive home had been spent in a mutual silence between them. The radio was on, lower than usual, but the '80s-style soft rock did provide a relaxing atmosphere in the Subaru, Paul had to admit, much as he usually found that music innocuous at best.
They hadn't gone a quarter mile after leaving the school before his mom tried to reach with a number on her cell phone. After an entire minute, she dropped the phone back into her purse.
"Paul, you haven't heard from Mike yet today, have you?"
"No, but I usually don't. I did try calling him a couple of times."
"Me, too. I've been trying once every thirty minutes since your . . . since Jeff showed up at the school."
Paul said, "That's not the way Mike usually is. He always returns my calls."
"He'll be at home," said Robin. "Look at how busy he's been. I won't be surprised if he hasn't been holed up at home all day, working on some big project for the newspaper and just wanting to be left alone."
"Mom, now that Dad's here—"
"Don't call him that."
"But is there . . . going to be trouble?"
He hated the way his voice sounded. He sounded like a kid needing a hug from his mom, which was no way for a fourteen-year-old to feel. But that was exactly how he felt.
"Honey, I don't know if there's going to be trouble or not. I don't know what's going to happen. I wish I did, but I don't."
The honesty of her answer made some of his queasiness recede. He heard worry in her voice, and his emotions turned. He didn't even mind that she was calling him "honey." A wave of protectiveness warmed over him.
"Mom, don't worry. Look at everything we've been through together. We're better off than we were in Chicago, right? I mean, we have Mike, and Chief Saunders likes you, and everyone in the community—"
She interrupted him, touching the palm of her hand to his cheek.
"You're such a good kid, Paul. You don't deserve this."
"Mike will know what to do," he said.
And that was enough conversation to see them through the rest of the ride home, with car noises and the sounds of ABBA soothing his senses.
But Mike wasn't at home.
Robin said, "Honey, I'm leaving for awhile. I'm, uh, going to the newspaper office. Maybe he's there." Again, he heard worry in her voice.
That's when he came up the bright idea of calling Dani on his cell phone, to see if it would be cool if he came over and they studied together. She had to check with her mom, who said sure. The drive to the Ordway house again passed pretty much in silence between Paul and his mom.
Yes, something was troubling her. And she wasn't the only one.
He couldn't explain why, even to himself, but he didn't want to be left alone at home. He
got the definite impression that his mom wanted to drive to Mike's office alone. He and Mom had been through so much together, just the two of them before Mike came into their lives, that they could often communicate without speaking, or so it seemed. So he didn't want to be a pain to his mom. And there was nothing about home itself that was bugging him. He just didn't want to be alone. He was feeling a weird combination of being on edge, but drowsy too. He'd never felt quite this way before. But he didn't mention it. Mom had enough on her mind, and spending time at the Ordway home, studying with a girl who was sweet on him, should counteract whatever was making him feel so strange.
Unfortunately, it didn't work out that way.
He was feeling drowsier than ever, but strangely it wasn't a drowsiness that made him want to take a nap. It was more of a dream-like sort of sensation, with everything happening around him . . . he just wasn't sure if everything was real or if he was dreaming.
What a stupid idea, he told himself. How can I be dreaming when I'm wide-awake and sitting at this table in the rec room of the Ordway home, waiting for Dani to bring me a glass of water?
At the same time, he felt wired. He didn't know anything about drugs, and he intended to keep it that way for the rest of his life. That sort of junk only seemed to ruin lives, as with millions of people during the crack epidemic of the 1990s. And there were the media figures—actors, musicians—who screwed up the best days of their lives with drugs. He had too much to lose. Nothing mattered more than going to Europe and playing soccer, and letting drugs get in the way of that wasn't even an option, even though drugs were around at school, though nowhere as prevalent as they'd been at the school he attended in Chicago. He had smoked marijuana once when he was twelve, between classes with Bobby Figueroa, but he still clearly recalled his rude awakening when he'd fallen asleep at his desk in Mrs. Leland's class, and the scolding he'd gotten at home, the disappointment in his mother's eyes. That had all been bad enough even without them knowing that a couple of hits of pot were responsible. No, he wanted nothing to do with any of that stuff. He knew nothing about it. But he imagined that when the kids who did drugs spoke of being wired on harder drugs like speed, the way he felt now was what they meant.
Massaging his eyes during the short time that Dani had been out of the room, which was less than a minute, didn't do a thing to ease the pressure he felt building behind his eyes, making them ache. The pressure building between his ears came first in waves, then in pulsation, so that he felt as if the cranial cavity of his skull was weirdly vibrating with some foreign energy.
That's when the drums started.
A steady beating of tom-toms. Somehow he knew that's what it was. The rhythmic sounds weren't coming from close by, but not from far off either, as if carried on a breeze that played tricks with the sounds, carrying the incessant boom-boom!-boom-boom!-boom as if the sounds were drifting across a lonely prairie, into the teepee.
Teepee!?
"Paul, here's your glass of water."
"Huh? Uh, oh, thanks. Thanks, Dani."
She handed him the glass and sat down across from him and watched as he took a long sip.
"Don't drink it too fast."
"I won't. Thanks."
Her show of concern made him feel a little better, and he realized that this was the first time the two of them had ever been alone like this, without her friends hanging around. Without his friends hanging around too, for that matter. He hadn't even been nervous on the way over. Not that he would ever have admitted something like that to anyone, but it was true that the only time he felt self-conscious and awkward was when he was around a girl he liked.
He'd told this to Mike one time, and Mike had chuckled and told him that it didn't get any easier for most guys as they grew older, so get used to it.
Dani was a good person, and she'd had a good idea, asking him if he wanted a glass of water. The coolness of it as he sipped had a calming effect and, when he set the glass down, the beating of the tom-toms between his ears was gone.
She said, "You're getting some of your color back."
"I'm feeling better. Thanks."
"And stop saying that."
"Saying what?"
"Saying thanks all the time." She grinned. "You don't have to keep thanking me just because I brought you a glass of water. You're so polite."
"I'm embarrassed, too."
"Well, don't be. We all have our troubles." Dani lowered her voice so that it wouldn't carry through the archway to her mother. "Is everything okay at home, Paul? I mean, you can talk to me about it if you want to, and I won't say a word to anyone."
"No," he lied, "everything's okay at home."
"I remember when my folks divorced." She spoke in a near-whisper. "It was like my world is ending."
"It's nothing like that. Really. I just don't want to talk about it. I mean, there really is nothing to talk about, okay?" Stop it, he told himself. You're babbling like an idiot! He added, "I mean, everything's all right at home. It really is."
Dani sighed. "If you say so. I just wish our parents' generation would get it together and find some way to make their relationships last at least long enough to raise a kid. I hope our generation does better."
Paul said, "Is something burning?"
He spoke automatically because he smelled smoke. It took a few moments to recognize the distinctive scent of juniper, which he remembered from when he had gone camping with his mom and Mike, something they did several times every summer. The smoke was stinging his nostrils, not in an overwhelming way but to a mild extent, the way a fireplace does when it isn't properly ventilated. He glanced at the fireplace and felt like a fool because he knew full well that no one had built a fire there during the past five minutes.
The black interior of the fireplace returned his stare.
Dani's mom appeared in the archway to the dining room. She was a trim, older version of her daughter and still very attractive, around forty, with her blonde hair worn short. She wore modest white shorts and a matching blouse.
"It's getting awfully quiet in here," she said with a smile, and her voice had the same timbre as Dani's, too. "Homework isn't supposed to be this quiet when two people are studying together." She was gently chiding, but curious and checking up on them just the same. Her smile ceased when she got a look at Paul. "Paul, you're still not looking very well."
"I feel okay," he managed to say.
"Would you like me to call your mom? Or we can give you a lift home."
The tom-toms had resumed their beating, but more softly than before. But yes, he heard them, the boom-boom!-boom-boom! drifting into the teepee to mingle in his senses with the hint of smoke from burning juniper inside the teepee.
He no longer felt wired. These things were a muted tapping at the corners of his mind, seeking entry. He centered his focus on methodically replacing his textbooks and folders into his backpack.
"No thanks, I think I just need some air. I haven't been feeling right all day."
He couldn't bring himself to tell them about his father—about Jeff—dropping in and upsetting his world at school that day. That's what this is all about, he decided, and suddenly he felt the need to be gone from there, to be alone, as strong as his earlier impulse before he'd left home with Mom of not wanting to be left alone. He could not understand this. He only knew that he must get away. He must get out of this house. It wasn't anything about Dani or her mom, and it wasn't anything about their home. It was as if the drums were calling him to come outside!
Dani and her mom walked him to the front door, and he managed to keep from wobbling even though his knees felt shaky. Dani's mom had an eye on his every step.
Dani said, "Mom, I think we should drive him home."
Paul spoke hurriedly. "No, really. I'm fine. I can walk home in less than half an hour, and the exercise will do me good."
Dani's mom paused, as if she could take his temperature and feel his pulse just by looking at him.
"Paul, if I thought f
or a second that you were too sick to walk home, I would drive you and call your mother. In fact, I think I should do that even if you are walking home, just in case."
"In case of what?" he said. "Please, Mrs. Ordway. Mom's real busy. If I really wasn't feeling good, I'd tell you, honest."
Right, he thought. I'd yell from the rooftops that I'm hearing war drums in my head and smelling smoke where there's no fire! Then watch everyone really start to worry about me! But he must have done a good job of concealing whatever was happening to him.
Mrs. Ordway said finally, "Okay, but I want you to call me here on your cell phone the minute you get home, and I want you to promise to call me or your mother at the first sign of you feeling really bad."
"I will."
"All right then. Be careful."
Dani's mom turned and left. But not, Paul was willing to bet, out of earshot.
From inside the screen door, Dani lifted fingertips to touch the screen as if wishing she could touch him, maybe even trade a hug, but she obviously didn't think her mom would go for that.
She said, "See you tomorrow."
He thought again how pretty and what a nice person she was, and that next time they were alone, he would not be like this. And he would not be shy.
"See you tomorrow," he returned with a small wave, and he walked off.
Dani and her mom lived on one of the tree-lined residential streets in the center of town. The street was lined with modest frame houses like the Ordways', with nice lawns, and ash and cottonwood trees providing shade.
But no juniper trees, he noted.
He also noted that the scent of smoke and the beating tom-toms—what in the world had made him think they were war drums, anyway?—had faded, either gone or merely submerged beneath the surrounding sounds of the neighborhood, he couldn't be sure.
Some young children were playing loudly in front of the house next door, and he assumed one of them was probably Dani's little brother. A fat lady in a bright red two-piece summer outfit worked in her garden, keeping an eye on the kids. Someone rode by on a motorcycle. Across the street, someone was making noise with a weed-whacker. A dog was barking.
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