Tegan continued to stare at me. This was approximately ten times more awkward than I thought it would be.
“Or we can watch something else,” I said.
“You…love me?” said Tegan.
Okay, words. Words were good. I could do words.
“I think so, yeah,” I said. “I mean, I know that’s kind of a taboo phrase when you haven’t been dating long, and I don’t expect you to say it back to me, it’s just, it’s the only word I can think of to explain how I feel about you, and—”
Tegan grabbed my collar and pulled me down. Her lips met mine. I absorbed her, breathed her in, and nothing had ever felt so right.
Tegan finally pulled away, but her lips lingered close. “Tell me more about this terrible movie.”
I turned down Aaron’s standing offer to drive me home. I wasn’t ready to go. Not yet.
Instead, I walked to the Monolith.
I had made this walk so many times, but right here, right now—this was something else. The streets might have been empty, but there was life everywhere. In the boughs of tall trees, rippling and swaying like an ocean above me. In the cicadas singing their invisible symphony.
In the anxious beating of my heart.
Why was I anxious? Because I was alive, and it was exciting—if slightly terrifying. But whatever lay ahead of me, I had a feeling I could handle it.
When at last I reached the Monolith, I navigated the labyrinth. Stepping through trash, winding around old construction materials, climbing the winding stairwell until I reached the top.
Someone had beaten me there.
Noah sat cross-legged at the edge of the concrete overlook. A gentle breeze nipped at his Flaming Lips T-shirt, sweeping his hair out of his eyes. He turned his head at the sound of my footsteps.
“Oh hey,” he said.
“Hey there,” I said. “Come here often?”
Some people try to think of the most awkward things they can possibly say. For me, it just came naturally. It was a gift.
Noah laughed softly. The humor faded into a sigh. “Not enough.”
He turned back around and gazed off into the panorama. I joined him. I sat with my legs dangling over the lip, casually kicking the wide-open emptiness.
“What was he like?” I asked.
Noah blinked and looked at me. “Who? Shane?”
“Yeah. I mean, I thought I knew him better than anyone. But now I feel like maybe I didn’t know him at all.”
Noah shook his head. “No, you knew him, all right. He was exactly the guy you remember.”
“But—”
“Just because he had a secret, that doesn’t make him any different. He was awesome and insecure and hilarious and obnoxious. Really, he was kind of a marvelous dickhead. But I think that was part of his charm.”
“What did he talk about?”
“You.”
“What? Really?”
“Oh yeah. Shane loved his big-ass little brother. It was kind of insane.”
If Noah was just trying to make me feel good about myself…
…he was doing a really good job of it.
In that moment, the Monolith lived true to its namesake—an anomaly independent of space-time. I found myself gazing into the Memories of the Past. The Mysteries of the Future.
And Now.
Now was everywhere. It was everything. So many doors, so many possibilities, intertwining and reaching infinitely.
“What do you think’s gonna happen?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…everything’s different now. Like, I think it’s a good thing…but it makes me nervous. I feel like I just pounded three energy drinks in a row, and my heart is about to explode.”
“I think that’s normal. Everyone is afraid of change. That doesn’t mean it’s bad.”
“But how can you be sure?”
“You can’t,” said Noah. “That’s kind of the whole point.”
“Huh,” I said.
I resolved to shut up. Talking was just making me feel stupid.
“Esther disbanded the JTs,” said Noah.
What the…? I tried to blink the dizziness out of my head. “You’re shitting me.”
“Oh, it gets better. She actually attended a GSA meeting.”
“YOU’RE SHITTING ME. YOU’RE SHITTING MY ACTUAL PANTS.”
“Nope. True story.”
“How’d it go?”
“She actually sat through the whole thing without saying a word. Just listened.”
“No. Way.”
“I mean, she looked like that blueberry girl from Willy Wonka—like she was about to explode at any moment—but still! All things considered, it was kind of a watershed moment for her.”
Noah smirked, and I laughed.
I stared out into the small forever that was Happy Valley. The river was still there, dividing the north and south parts of town, and the mountains encompassed it all in a cereal bowl. But it was far from Shitty Puffs. Buildings and houses and streets and trees of every shape and size—old and new—came together. Misfit puzzle pieces clicking into place. Paintbrush strokes blending into one. All part of the Masterpiece.
Part of me wished that Shane was here to see it.
The other part—the greater part—felt him here with me.
He might have died, but he was far from dead. He was a part of me. And he was everywhere. I could see his footsteps—his fingerprints—in every facet of my universe.
And there were so many doors ahead of us.
First, I should thank my agent, Jenny Bent. She is not only Master of What She Does, but she’s a genuinely good human being. If you want evidence, find me at a book signing or a Taco Bell or somewhere and ask me how she became my agent. She’s also the only person I know who loves Girl Scout Cookies as much as I do. Secondly and coequally, my editor, Laura Schreiber, who is a true visionary and is also mind-blowingly ambitious. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t totally skeptical about the major editorial change she wanted to make with Neanderthal. (It somewhat resembled raising Lazarus from the dead.) I’d also be lying if I said the book wasn’t a million times better as a result. I am grateful to her entire editorial team, Hannah Allaman and Mary Mudd, for their thoroughness and awesometacularness, and for the little meta-jokes in the margins that legitimately made me laugh. And a special thanks to all the wizards and ninjas in the background who made this book an actual, successful book: Frank Bumbalo, Emily Meehan, Dina Sherman, Elke Villa, Holly Nagel, Cassie McGinty, Phil Caminiti, Mary Claire Cruz, Sara Liebling, and Guy Cunningham. And lastly, the two most important people in my life. First, my mom, who gave me terrible parenting advice such as “follow your dreams” and “be a writer.” And lastly, my very own Tegan—Erin Rene. She’s basically cooler than me in every way imaginable.
PRESTON NORTON is: bisexual, slightly genderqueer, married. His partner, Erin, is trying to put him on a diet, and he’s revolting (both contexts apply). He has taught seventh grade and ninth grade English, mentored drug addicts, and mowed lawns (in no particular order). He is obsessed with 2001: A Space Odyssey and QuentinTarantino.
Neanderthal Opens the Door to the Universe Page 33
