All We Left Behind

by Ingrid Sundberg

  “We should go back,” he whispers, looking away, and his breath falls against my chin, rolling into the mist.

  “We don’t have to,” I whisper, ferns brushing the backs of my legs. His silver eyes pierce me, blue-flecked, unsure, and all the things I was too afraid to do with him before come rushing through my mind.

  The moss beneath us is spongy, full of trapdoors and bog.

  “We could . . .” I breathe, watching his mouth, hearing the swollen fog hush through the saplings.

  “We’re late,” he says, turning abruptly.

  My throat squeezes, embarrassment lodging itself in my chest and making it hard to breathe. Abe slogs away, back through the tree brush from where we came.

  It was stupid of me to walk him into these woods. Stupid to think that there was any of Lilith’s power in me. Stupid to think that just because Kurt screws around, I should too.

  The orange leaves glitter around us like confetti and I tell myself to forget Abe. To forget the gold spades and this haze inside me, and the two years of missing and wishing I was brave enough to be the girl he wants me to be.

  I have Kurt, and that’s all I should want.

  Only, I don’t have Kurt.

  And Abe has every right not to be interested. So why did he follow me into these woods?

  Kurt

  After fifth period, I head outside to call Josie. To check in. Make sure she’s okay. I lean against my car and pull out my cell. Marion’s father’s clothes are in my backseat, bunched up and flecked with sand. It makes me smile and think of the ocean. Makes me feel like I’m not covered in ash.

  I hear a whistle and look up to see Vanessa walking toward me in a black skirt that shows off her legs.

  “Well, well, what have we here?” she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

  “What’s what?” I ask, and she slides those legs between me and my car.

  “Empty ride.” She runs a finger over the roof. “Kurt Medford.” Finger over me. “What, indeed?”

  “Can’t,” I say, stepping away from her.

  “It’s not a game day,” she counters.

  “True, but—”

  “But nothing.”

  She kisses me like I’m playing hard to get. I don’t kiss back. I just let her do it.

  “You gone soft, Medford?” she says, pulling away. I roll my eyes and nudge her off.

  “Bad timing,” I say, but Vanessa laughs.

  “What’s her name?”

  I shake my head. She throws a hand on her hip and stares me down. It isn’t confrontational. She knows I’ve been with other girls. She just wants to make a game out of it.

  “No.”

  “Aww, come on,” she fishes, pressing against me, but I don’t bite. Vanessa shifts and black hair flies in my face. I feel her hand in mine and suddenly she’s snatching the cell phone from my fingers. “Who you calling?”

  “Hey!”

  She steps off and looks at the number.

  “Josie?” She raises an eyebrow. “Now who might that be?”

  “No one.”

  “Sure, she isn’t.”

  I try to grab my phone, but she hides it behind her back.

  “Oh, you’ve got it bad for this Josie girl!” Vanessa laughs. “I think I’m a little jealous.” She’s got me pawing all over her to get the phone. “Really, Medford?” She presses her mouth to my ear. “You don’t want to go for a drive? I doubt Josie would believe that for a second.”

  I ball up my fists and walk away from her.

  “Hey! What’s your problem?” she snaps, and I pretend to ignore her and walk to my car.

  “I need that phone,” I yell back, because damn it, I do, and she cackles, waving my cell in the air like a useless gum wrapper.

  “What, this ol’ thing?” she mocks, and I’ve had it. I throw my car door shut with a slam. When I look back at her, she’s gone small. One of her arms is wrapped over her chest like I’m dangerous.

  “Jesus shit,” she hisses, glaring at me.

  “My phone,” I say firmly, and she holds it up in her hand.

  “Fuck you.” She chucks my phone over my shoulder into the woods.

  I don’t move. If I move I’m going to fucking strangle her.

  “Well, this is unfortunate,” she says darkly, lifting her chin. “You were a good lay, Medford. Too bad your dick has to come with the rest of you.”

  She stalks off and I turn to the woods. The grass is tall and I didn’t get a good look at where my cell landed. Fucking Vanessa!

  After a half hour of walking the tree line I admit it’s probably a lost cause. Only I don’t go back to class. This feels like a challenge. It’s like I need to prove to myself I care enough about my sister to find it. That I won’t let her down this time. I drop low and look under a few more bushes. Then get up and circle the next three trees. My back feels tight, like I need to stretch. I roll my head and need to run. Clear my head.

  And then, just like that—my luck changes.

  Next to a string of rocks is my phone, caught in a bunch of grass. I pick it up and start laughing. It’s a miracle it didn’t hit one of the rocks and smash into a hundred pieces.

  Which is when I see Abe—

  And Marion—

  Walk out of the woods.

  Kurt

  I walk straight for them. Abe sees me and slows like he’s preparing for something.

  Me, clearly.

  He nudges Marion and I hate that she looks at him first. He steps to the side and hooks a hand in the elastic of his gym shorts, nodding in my direction. Her face goes pale and I stop walking.

  She can come to me.

  “Hi,” she says, stopping a few feet away with Abe behind her. Her neck red with whatever this is.

  “Hi,” I say back. But all I can think about is how well she lied to her father and that everything out of her mouth is going to be bullshit.

  “We, um . . .” Her lip trembles and that’s all she says. I taste blood and salt water in my mouth, and I shake my head with how uncool I am right now.

  I spit in the grass and she flinches.

  “Look, Medford—” Abe starts.

  “Don’t speak.” I point a finger at him and he shuts up.

  “Abe,” Marion says cautiously. “Go to class.”

  He checks me to make sure that’s okay, and I stare him down. Ready to pound the shit out of him.

  “Abe,” she says again. “Just go.”

  It’s her voice that gives him permission, and he speeds away toward the building.

  I can’t look at her. Everything in me is fists and knots and I’m so pissed I know I should leave. I can’t be here. I need to clear my head. Run.

  I turn my head and go.

  Marion

  I grab his wrist.

  My heart races and I don’t know what he will do. But I won’t let him go. His pulse screams under my thumb and he tries to pull away from me.

  “What are we?” I ask, and his nostrils flare.

  “What the hell was that?” He nods to Abe dashing away.

  “Forget that,” I insist, and he shakes his head like that was the wrong answer.

  He twists, making a show of wanting to be out of my grip. Only he’s stronger than me. I’m not the one holding him back.

  “What is this?” I say again, motioning to the two of us, but his glare makes the ocean swell in my throat.

  “It’s nothing!”

  “It’s not nothing,” I say, my voice thin. “Yesterday was . . .”

  I try to swallow, but it’s the whole ocean. I’m not sure I even know, much less am able to describe, what yesterday was to me. I dig my nails into his arm. I want to throw the dark-haired girl in his face. How I saw him kiss her. But somehow that feels like it will only push him further away.

  “Yesterday was important.” I cough. “I’ve never . . .”

  But of course he knows that.

  He was there.

  Inside me.

  It was s
tupid to take Abe into those woods after I saw him with Vanessa. I don’t know what I was trying to prove by walking into that fog, but now that Kurt’s in front of me I’m desperate to keep him. His lips know me in a way that no one else’s have.

  “Kurt, I—”

  He rips his hand from my grip and his eyes turn dark.

  “Do you think you’re the first virgin I’ve ever slept with?” He tosses my hand away, and the tendons in his neck pull taut. “You’re not.”

  He backs away from me.

  “Kurt, this—”

  “And you won’t be the last.”

  * * *

  I can’t breathe.

  The metal rivets of the stairwell dig into my legs. I press the heels of my palms into my forehead, but the pressure doesn’t help.

  I should go to class. I should get out of these freaking gym clothes. I should pull myself together and get over it.

  Only, I’m not sure how to contain myself, how to be around anyone right now. I suck in air through my teeth, and exhale.

  Air through my teeth.

  What was I doing?

  I pull my hair into a ponytail, twisting the elastic tight. Hair back, twist tight.

  Back. Tight.

  I should burn this hair off with the stars.

  “You can’t be here.”

  I look up and it’s Miss Kay, my freshman-year social studies teacher. She has thin eyebrows and hair so straight it gives her pencil skirt curves. She doesn’t look angry, but her voice is matter-of-fact.

  I nod and wipe my cheeks, which are sore and puffy.

  “Go to the nurse,” she says, handing me a pass. I take the thin piece of paper. “It’s just high school,” she says as I stand. “You’ll live.”

  Kurt

  At practice we do suicides and I run till there isn’t anything in me but pain.

  Legs.

  Lungs.

  Fire.

  Line.

  Repeat.

  The A-squad finishes and goes to get water. I join the B-squad on the line. I don’t wait for the whistle. I run. Pain in my calves.

  “Keep up,” I yell, lapping them. A few of them curse, and I run over and circle the group. “What was that, you slow pieces of shit?”

  They don’t answer.

  “You’re never going to start because you can’t fucking run!” I yell, and they glare at me. I speed ahead to the goal line.

  Air screaming through me.

  There’s a whistle, and Coach is yelling, but my ears buzz and I push harder. I yell at the B-squad and sprint harder. Faster. Lapping them double time.

  Harder. Faster.

  “Medford! Off the field. Now!” It’s Coach, but he’s not showing these guys shit. They’re never gonna be fast enough if they don’t—

  Conner grabs my shoulder and knocks me off balance. I stumble. Dig my cleats into the dirt and stay up. For the first time I feel the sweat drooling off my back.

  “Knock it off, Kurt,” he says, and I smack him away and head for the line. He grabs my arm and shoves his chest into me.

  “I’m not kidding, stop!”

  “Fuck off!” I push him hard and sprint.

  “Medford! If you don’t—” Coach’s words shoot past, lost.

  My heart pounds in my ears.

  I bend. Touch the line. Body screaming. Legs pumping.

  Smack!

  Weight steamrollers me. Weight and shoulders.

  The ground spins and blood floods my head. My body pulsing from pushing harder, faster, long—

  I can’t breathe.

  Fire shrieks through my skull and my weight shifts.

  “Whoa, shit!” I hear Conner’s voice and someone grabs me.

  I don’t fall, pressed against them. My weight hooked on their shoulders.

  “God, you need to deal with your shit!” It’s Conner’s voice in my ear.

  “Fffffuu—” I pant, but can’t . . .

  Someone’s swearing. Coach maybe. The voice is far away.

  Conner moves under my weight. “Your sister may be gone, and your dad’s a prick, but you can’t take it to the field like this and run till your heart shits out!”

  My ears pound and stars prickle at the edge of my vision.

  “Do you even know what you said to the B-squad?”

  I try to tell him to piss off, but there’s dirt in my lungs. I need to run. Get air.

  “Medford! What kind of fucking stunt are you—” The voice is far away.

  “That Coach?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

  “You need to sit,” Conner says, shifting my weight to my feet. “Can you walk?”

  But I don’t think my feet are feet. Everything’s too light.

  “Whoa, whoa!” Conner pulls me back against him. “Okay, forget that, just breathe.”

  My temples bang and black shoots through my—

  “Kurt! Damn it, breathe!”

  There’s a thud at my back and phlegm coughs up my throat.

  “You think you’re some goddamned hotshot, Medford?! You think—”

  It is Coach’s voice.

  Closer.

  But then there’s a ringing and lightness and—

  “Oh, shit.”

  Marion

  Lilith corners me at the end of the day.

  “Mar-i-doodle, wait!” she says, skipping over to me as I’m on my way to the locker room to get my street clothes. She smiles, pretending everything is normal after our little spat this morning. We haven’t really talked since she said all those things in the coffee shop either, but like always, she acts as if nothing is different, that our friendship is everything but negative space. “Why are you still wearing your gym clothes?”

  I flash her my pass to the nurse. “Wasn’t feeling well.”

  “Suck-buckets,” she says, trying to touch my forehead and fawn over me.

  “I’m fine,” I say, batting her hand away.

  “Good,” she says, ignoring my tone and returning to her bouncy upbeat self. “Because, guuurl, Kurt has got it bad for you!”

  My stomach turns. “Kurt wants nothing to do with me,” I say, slipping past her into the locker room.

  “Oh, you are so wrong about that.” She follows me in and the room stinks of towels and mold. A shower is running and the musk of steam makes me gag. “I’m not kidding,” she says as I open my locker. “He came up to me looking for you this morning. Kurt, who doesn’t look for anybody.”

  I pull out my street clothes and undress, throwing off my smelly gym shirt and shorts. I stand there half-naked, and I can’t ignore how Lilith and I are just like my skin—all surface, years of time and surface.

  “Why aren’t you more excited about this?” She frowns, tossing a hand to her hip, and I pull on my pants. “Seriously, I thought you liked him.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” I blurt, yanking on my shirt.

  She steps back as I struggle to get the cotton over my head. My arms flail and I attempt to punch elbows through holes. Once the shirt is on, I right myself and she’s still waiting.

  She raises an eyebrow. “So, what exactly is it that I don’t know?”

  I could tell her I’m not a virgin anymore. That’s supposed to be the magical golden ticket that will change us, but I feel further away from her now than ever. I throw my dirty clothes in the locker.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know,” I say honestly. She looks at the floor and starts picking at the strap of her purse.

  “Well?” she asks delicately. “Are you going to tell me?”

  I shut my locker and think about all the inches of skin that would be. How I took off my clothes with Kurt, exposed myself, and that blew up in my face.

  “I’m here for you, you know . . . ,” she says, looking at me kindly, but Lilith’s no longer safe.

  “Here for me so you can what?” I snap. “So you can run your hands all over me and tell me I’m some kind of touch-hungry pariah? No thanks!”

  “It wasn’t like that,” she
counters, but I head for the door.

  “I don’t know what anything is like around you anymore,” I say, feeling out of control and needing to be out of this room. But Lilith races in front of me, getting in my face.

  “Where do you get off, Marion?” Her eyes blaze. “Do you think tiptoeing around you has been a picnic for me?! I don’t even know what’s going to set you off anymore. You’re like a minefield of ‘look over here, and don’t talk about that, oh, and holy shit, Lilith lost her virginity and I totally saw it, but I’m going to pretend for five years that I didn’t.’ What’s that about, Marion? Huh? Tell me, how am I supposed to be your friend?!”

  I can’t breathe. Shower steam crams down my throat and everything is spinning. I can’t be here. Lilith’s eyes are so hard it feels like maybe I’m seeing her for the first time, seeing who she really is.

  “You ever think that maybe we aren’t friends?” I say coldly, and it surprises me to see her flinch. “Maybe we haven’t been for a long time.”

  Her eyes water and she purses her chalky red lips together. Part of me wants to hug her and say I don’t mean it, but I don’t know if that’s true. I don’t know how to be her friend, or for her to be mine. Just because we grew up together doesn’t mean we’re supposed to be friends forever, does it? Maybe we’re just too different now. Maybe not being friends is who we were always supposed to be.

  Kurt

  My head throbs, right behind the eyes, like someone cut them out. I blink, and light scrapes pain through my skull.

  “Jesus,” I hiss, turning on my side, nausea budding in my throat. The paper mattress under me crinkles and I hear Conner’s voice.

  “Hey, man, are you okay?”

  A fuzzy figure moves beside me and what looks like yellow confetti drops from his lap when he stands.

  “Did I pass out?” My voice cracks, tongue dry as cement. “Water?”

  “Yeah, here.” Conner puts a Dixie cup in my hand and I gulp it down. He gives me a second and I drink it, too. “You scared me,” he says, his tone serious. I rub my face, and my vision clears enough to see a pamphlet in his hands. It’s yellow and wrung-out. Torn to bits. Small yellow pieces litter the floor.