All We Left Behind

by Ingrid Sundberg

  But then it would be my legs under those eyes. My broken flip-flops left in the sand.

  I look past Lilith to the lake. It ripples silently, reflecting the dusky sky. Only, my gaze is drawn to the edge of the water where a reflection of black trees disrupts the surface. It’s in that patch of darkness that you can see the slimy rocks and the mud and all that the lake is hiding. It’s where one might fall in and silently drown.

  Lilith loses interest in her performance and drapes herself against me, half-drunk and searching for balance. “I love you,” she says, nuzzling my neck.

  “I know,” I say, holding on to her weight. She hums for a moment and I watch the skin of my uneaten apple curl back in the fire, turning black with the heat.

  “I wasn’t kidding,” she says, her voice getting low. “When I said this should be our best year. I meant that. We’ve only got so much time left. We should drink. Have fun. Live it up. You know?”

  “Absolutely,” I agree, the sparks behind us blinking from orange to ash.

  “Exactly!” She squeezes my arm, and the sentimentality in her voice is gone, replaced by her normal frisky charm. “So, seriously . . .” She turns us in one motion, like we’re attached at the hip, and faces us in the direction of a group of soccer players. “Mar-i-doodle, this is the first big party of the year. And, I thought, you know . . .” She nods to the boys. They’re the same group of soccer players that has been touching elbows and waists and hair. “Well, I thought this could be a good opportunity.”

  My neck goes tight when she says the word “opportunity.”

  She’s not talking apples.

  She’s talking cherries.

  Kurt

  The bonfire’s blazing when I come out of the woods. I hear the clank of beer bottles and I’m surprised to see how many people have already shown up. I didn’t think I was out in those woods for very long, but maybe I was.

  The driveway’s turned into a parking lot and I hear music up ahead. It’s that angry metal crap Conner likes, where yelling is called singing, and the band can’t play to save their lives. I’ve tried to educate Conner on good music, but he keeps insisting this shit’s the shit. Well, at least he got one part right.

  I snag a beer from a cooler along the way and halfway through it I see the golden eagle on the label. My stomach turns and everything in my mouth goes sour. Fucking freshmen! I curse under my breath and tip the bottle over, Mom’s favorite seeping into the dirt. Guess, I’m really not drinking tonight.

  “Medford!”

  I turn to see Vanessa walking in my direction. Her mouth is glossy and she deliberately tilts her head so her black hair slides off her shoulder. I chuck the eagle over the cars and into the woods, ignoring the crash of glass that echoes back.

  “Where have you been?” she demands, moving in so close I could kiss her.

  “Around,” I say, checking out the front of her and remembering the way she moved when we skipped class last week. I took her to the dugout behind the baseball diamond, where her mouth had that waxy lipstick taste. The rest of her was soft though. The rest of her was worth enjoying.

  “Well, good thing I found you, then,” she says. “Getting around and all.”

  I roll my eyes. She likes this game, but I don’t want to play it. She knows there’s only one reason this works. And when it stops working . . . well, then it stops working. I thread a finger through her belt loop, pulling her in, and she hangs an arm over my shoulder.

  “Geez!” She flinches, her arm hitting the sweat on my neck. “What did you do? Work out or something?” She sounds annoyed but her fingers play with my hair.

  “What? You don’t like me sweaty?”

  She smiles mischievously. “I like being the one to make you sweaty.”

  I laugh and look over her shoulder to the row of parked cars. I could take her to Conner’s SUV, but he’s pissed at me.

  “I don’t have my car,” I say, knowing we could find someplace else, but there’s something in the air, and for whatever reason, I don’t want the easy and the booze. Not tonight.

  “Kelley has a car,” she says, batting her lashes, and I smile at her persistence.

  “Well, do you have the keys to Kelley’s car?”

  She tosses her hair again and the strap of her tank top falls from her shoulder. She probably just wants to go into the woods.

  “No,” she admits, moving in to kiss me, but I smell beer, and the last thing I want right now is lipstick and golden-eagle breath. I pull away as smooth as I can and throw on a teasing smile.

  “Well,” I say playfully, running a hand under her shirt, over her stomach, which makes her moan hungrily. “Why don’t you find me when you have those keys?”

  I inch my hand dangerously close to her breasts and she leans in for a kiss. I pull away, teasing, but she manages to pin me. The taste of wax spreads over my mouth, and I let her do it. It’s not so bad, especially if I don’t breathe.

  “Keys,” I repeat when she releases me. I drop my hands and smile sideways, heading for the fire without looking back to see if she’s pissed or likes the challenge. All I know is that I don’t want to deal with her right now.

  I forget about Vanessa and walk to the lake and put my feet in the water. It’s freezing. But the bonfire’s behind me so I don’t really mind. The water is flat. So flat it feels like it will go on forever. It makes me want to chuck a rock in it. Or ten rocks. Anything to cause a ripple.

  “Hey!”

  It’s Conner behind me, followed by a smack at the back of my head that stings like my feet in the water.

  “Stop being a douche and join the party!” He holds out a beer and I take it to humor him, ignoring the black label and gold wings.

  “How far do you think that other shore is?” I ask. “Straight through. If I swim?”

  Conner frowns at me like this is a trick. “I’ll give you two football fields,” he says, and I shake my head.

  “No way, that wouldn’t even get you to the center of the lake.”

  “I’m sorry, let me clarify.” Conner smacks me again. “What part of ‘don’t be a douche’ did you not understand?”

  “Shit, all right.” I step away from him.

  “Two football fields,” he repeats. “That’s how far you’re going to get with whatever chick you take out there. If I see you in that water without a girl, I will pound the shit out of you.”

  “All right. Point taken.”

  “Good. Now drink.”

  I look at the bottle and almost turn it over so the eagle is pointed at him. But I don’t want to play the mom card.

  “Bottoms up!” I say, raising the beer and tilting my head back. I down the whole thing. It’s sour and cold, and tastes better than I want it to. I hand him the empty bottle when I’m done. Maybe he does see the eagle on it then, but if he does he doesn’t say anything.

  So much for not drinking.

  Marion

  Lilith scans the boys in the crowd, her eyes purposeful and gleaming. She’s serious about this.

  “Lil, what are you—”

  “This is going to be soooooo much fun,” she interrupts, already bouncing up and down.

  “I don’t know.” I eye the soccer team. “I can’t say I’m into shin guards and sweaty jerseys.”

  “Oh, trust me.” She leans in. “It’s what’s under the jersey that you’ll be into. And bonus if it’s sweaty!”

  “Ew!”

  “No, no!” She squeezes my side. “The correct answer is, please, sir, can I have another?” I squirm as she tickles me and we both laugh. But then she stops, zeroing in on a target. “Oh yes!” She claps her hands together, far too amused with herself. “Oh, girl, you are gonna love me.”

  “What? Who?” I look past her. There’s Rory Hackett, who has ginger freckles and a canary nose. He’s cute, if you focus on his legs, but I could say that about any of the soccer players. Next to him is Conner Aimes talking ten words a second. His baseball hat is flipped to the side, showing
off a sweaty forehead of hair. Troy Beal is the best looking of the three. At least he’s got that hot musician slouch, minus the cigarette.

  I pinch Lilith. “Who?’

  “Patience, grasshopper.” She bats my hand away, laughing. “Your future awaits. Stay here.” She skips off before I have a chance to stop her, and my stomach flutters like a hundred moths swarming a lamp. Only she walks right past the three soccer players and heads for the lake. Those moths in my stomach do a nosedive when I see who she’s walking toward. All 150 of them fly straight for the bulb’s hot pane of glass, burning their wings up in the light. I have to check myself, because she couldn’t possibly be heading for—

  Only she is.

  She stops next to Kurt Medford.

  He stands ankle deep in the water with his arms crossed over his chest, and the fabric of his T-shirt is so tight I can see the muscle definition underneath. Lilith offers her flask and he takes a drink, laughing, like they’re old friends, and I wonder what she knows to say to him that makes him look so at ease.

  Why would she pick Kurt Medford? Soccer captain. Gorgeous. Out of my league. Sure, I know who he is—everyone knows who he is. But he doesn’t know me. He’s the kind of guy you see from afar, tawny-haired, beautiful; he’s not someone you actually speak to. I see him in the halls at school, sure, but there’s something effortless about him. Intangible. He has that ability to slip in and out of the light, like a mirage you aren’t sure you actually see. But when he’s there in front of you, he’s there—sort of sturdy and brilliant. On the soccer field, running, that’s when you really see him. Every muscle moves with a purpose, every sinew wound tight and then released. It’s his grace, startling and unexpected, that steals the ball out from under the other team’s feet and scores when they aren’t looking. It’s as if you never really see Kurt, until he chooses to be seen.

  Kurt’s gaze flicks over Lilith’s shoulders and my insides go hot. He looks at me longer than I know what to do with and I feel like I’ve swallowed a volcano of stars. The smell of smoke makes me cough and I look away, my hands sweating, and I want to pull my hair off my neck. I never wear it down and its weight is too hot. I twist the locks to one side and peek to the shore, only they’re walking toward me.

  “This is Marion,” Lilith says a few seconds later, nudging Kurt. He frowns, tilting his head away from the fire, and I think about that heat line and which side I’m supposed to be on.

  “Hi,” he says, light sliding over his mouth, and all I can do is mumble a hello and extend a hand for him to shake. It hangs in the air for way too long and I realize no one shakes hands anymore. It’s a stupid gesture I learned from watching my father at business meetings, only—

  He takes it.

  Kurt’s hand is caramel soft and calloused at the same time. He grips me aggressively like the handshake itself is a dare and it catches me off guard. Only I rise to meet him, squeezing back, and I can hear my dad’s words in the corner of my mind saying, You only get one chance to make a first impression.

  “Nice,” Kurt says, surprised, holding my grip. “Sturdy handshake. You don’t usually see that in a girl.”

  “Oh?” I lift my chin to meet his gaze and his blue eyes flicker with fire. “What do you usually see?”

  “Weakness.” He smiles at me then. “I’m gonna like you.”

  Heat flames, and I can’t tell if it’s my cheeks or the pit’s burning embers sparking hot. Only, I want to stand in it. Is this what Lilith meant when she said ‘trust your body’?

  “Have fun,” Lilith whispers, kissing me on the cheek, and I reach out to make her stay. But she’s too fast, slipping away through ribbons of smoke and light.

  Kurt takes a seat on a blanket, and behind him the lake is camouflaged with stars, the water weaving into the sky and drowning the horizon. I line up my toes with the blanket’s edge, needing a line that’s clearly defined. I sit down next to him, and through the flames we watch Lilith drop herself into the lap of one of Kurt’s teammates. The two start making out and her lipstick comes smearing off. A few of the guys whistle and I press my lips together, tasting the red chalk on my mouth as well, wanting to wipe it off on the back of my hand.

  “You’re in my chemistry class, right?” he says, his knee brushing my skirt.

  “Have been all year,” I say, even though all year is little more than a few weeks.

  “You’re lab partners with Abe Doyle.”

  I nod, surprised he noticed.

  “Didn’t you two used to date?”

  “What?”

  “Date. Like freshman year?”

  I laugh, pulling at my hem, which exposes the light hairs on my thigh. I can’t believe he knows that.

  “Um . . . I guess.” I stare at him, trying to figure out why he’s asking. “I mean, that was forever ago. We’re not together or—we’re just friends—well, not really even friends, just lab partners. Do you know Abe?”

  He turns his head away, inviting my eyes to the light that climbs his stubble-flecked chin. “Should I?”

  “No, I mean . . .” I cough, pulling a strand of blond out of my face. Not sure what Abe has to do with any of this. After all, Abe’s the smart, geeky type and Kurt’s . . . well, he’s all muscles and smolder, making my insides burn. He sits up and digs his toes in the sand. “Do you like chemistry?” I ask awkwardly, and he laughs.

  “Not really.”

  “Right.” I backpedal. “Who likes chemistry?”

  “Well . . .” He looks at me, like he’s about to make a joke, but then his gaze softens like he thinks better of it. He shakes off whatever he was going to say and leans his head on his arm and looks at me, perplexed. Not meanly, just interested. I stare back and the heat of the fire slides up my legs. It’s uncomfortable and way too intimate, and all I want is to look away, but I can’t. I don’t know what to say to him. Lilith’s not here to make this easier, so I stare, and he stares back, with those quiet eyes, like he’s searching for something.

  I’m not sure I want him to find it.

  “All right,” he says, a flirty smile spreading over him. He stands up and sand sprinkles my legs.

  “Uh . . .” I look up at him, confused. “All right what?”

  He lifts his arms in a stretch, and a band of skin peeks out between his shorts and shirt.

  “Let’s do this,” he says.

  “Excuse me?” My voice squeaks, and I know my eyebrows have risen far too high on my forehead. “Let’s do . . . ?”

  He nods to the lake. “Go for a swim.”

  I squeeze my arms over my chest and look at the lake. “That water is going to be freezing.”

  Only I don’t think he hears me, because he’s already headed for the shore. I scramble to catch up with him.

  “You’re serious?” I call out as he wades in up to his knees.

  “It’s not that cold,” he assures me, and I look back to Lilith for help, but she’s still preoccupied by the fire.

  “No one else is in the water.”

  “Marion.” Kurt locks his eyes on me. They hold me steady. Hold me firm. “Strong handshake, remember? A little water can’t scare you.”

  Heat flushes my skin and I slip a foot in the water. It’s cold—and yet so perfectly cold.

  He doesn’t look away. “You can swim, right?”

  “Of course I can swim.”

  “Good.”

  He twists with that startling grace and dives under the water without a splash. He dives in with all his clothes on like he belongs to the water and it’s a part of him. He dives in such a way that my legs move before I can think, and I’m underwater, in over my head, and under those stars before I know that I’ve done it. Before I even know I wanted to.

  Kurt

  I dive into the lake and swim hard. I squeeze my breath inside me and swim far and fast. Not sure why I wanted Marion out in this water with me. Maybe to appease Conner. Maybe to get my fix of blond hair and soft legs.

  My hands pull me through the water,
but it takes more effort than running. My skin can’t breathe. There’s water all around me. More pressure. No air. And I can’t shake that image of Marion staring back at me. Saying nothing, like she’s okay with it. Like she’s not going to ask. Other girls, they talk right through that, but this Marion girl—she shakes your hand like she’s got the world figured out and she can stand in it. Like she’s not afraid of the ash.

  I swim till my lungs threaten to split. And then I swim farther.

  Breaking the surface feels like fire, and my body throbs, almost too dizzy to breathe. I buzz. Drink air. Kick myself afloat and turn to see if she’s followed.

  I don’t see her.

  My stomach drops and I tell myself I’m wrong about her. That maybe she’s not solid. That maybe she is one of those soft, wispy girls waiting for the world to save her. Only no one’s going to do that. Especially not me.

  But then there’s a splash and her head breaks the surface thirty yards away. She spits and pulls hair from her eyes, and I can’t help but smile and swim to her. The water’s freezing and ridiculous, and if I hadn’t asked her to swim out here with me, she wouldn’t have.

  “Does it get warmer?” she asks when I reach her. Teeth chattering. Arms pumping through the water.

  “Just keep moving,” I say, treading beside her. “Your body gets used to it and the cold wears off.”

  “Okay.” She nods, watching me. Waiting. My shorts cling to my legs, awkward in all this wet, and I realize, I got her out here, so it’s my move.

  Only, I haven’t got one.

  Her lip trembles and I want to put my mouth on it. Kissing her would be easier than talking. That was the whole point of getting her out here anyway, wasn’t it? To avoid talking. But something about her eyes and the way her arms cut through the water won’t let me.