Rippler

by Cidney Swanson

  “You can’t see Yosemite Valley from here,” Will said apologetically.

  “I don’t miss it,” I whispered. I felt suspended on top of the world, dangling aloft over one of its edges.

  Will smiled. “Come on.” He scrambled up a large boulder, sat, and pulled open his sister’s pack. He thumped a section of rock next to him. “Sit close and we won’t have to talk loud.”

  I scooted to where I could feel his breath, warm on my bare shoulder.

  A chipmunk joined us on the boulder, inquisitive. Will flipped through the book, looking for additional sections with English translations. The chipmunk turned its head to one side and made a dash to retrieve a bit of potato chip by Will’s feet.

  “I see words that remind me of Spanish or French,” he said.

  I nodded in agreement. “Some of this looks like Latin. Maybe we should try a translating program online?”

  “We could try Latin–to–English and see what comes up.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Flip back a couple pages. There.” I pointed at the small neat handwriting—another English translation.

  Leaning our heads together, we read:

  In a dark, cold room, three boys with eager fists approach three other boys.

  “Give us your blankets,” says the largest boy, Hans.

  The smallest, Wolfi, is clever but not strong, and he passes his blanket to Hans. “It is scratchy. And it smells of rotten vegetables. Take it.”

  Hans sniffs the blanket, discovering the small boy has told the truth. He drops the coverlet to the ground. “Give me yours,” Hans demands of another of the boys—the one with brown eyes.

  “I’m sharing with Karl and Wolfi,” replies the brown–eyed boy. He stands his ground, although he is afraid. “You find someone else to share with.”

  Hans shrugs and turns as if to concede. Then, as a smile warms the brown eyes, Hans turns suddenly, delivering a savage kick to the stomach.

  “Pepper!” cry Karl and Wolfi.

  Hans grabs the blanket as Pepper struggles for breath.

  The translation ended and I stopped reading, looking up. The beauty of the Sierra Nevada spread about us no longer spoke to me. I felt sick.

  “It’s like the scratchy–blanket thing really happened,” said Will. “Assuming this is someone’s journal.”

  I nodded.

  “You okay?” asked Will.

  “This book isn’t just a journal: it’s someone’s experiments written down. What if the other ones happened too? About the food and the poison? It’s revolting.”

  “A twisted experiment in Eugenics and Behaviorism.” Will gazed out over the Sierra. “Survival of the fittest. What do you want to bet this was Germany in the 1930’s?”

  “It’s not written in German,” I pointed out.

  A tourist bus pulled in, brakes squealing. The chipmunks fled our boulder.

  “Time to go?” asked Will.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  I felt shaky as I stood. Will offered to help me down off the boulder, and I took his hand in mine. It felt callused but warm.

  I couldn’t let go.

  Will smiled, gave my hand a quick squeeze and released it, fishing his sister’s keys from a pocket. His very angry sister’s keys. Would she take him away from Las Abuelitas?

  I couldn’t let him go.

  “Do you think your sister’s packing up your place right now?”

  He frowned. “The thing is, if Mick’s curious enough about you, she won’t want to leave. She’s got scientific curiosity, but she’s paranoid. She could go either way.”

  I felt cold stealing across my neck and shoulders in the warm evening. “It’s my fault. I don’t want you guys to move.”

  “Yeah,” Will said, opening my door.

  Yeah, it was my fault or yeah, he didn’t want to move either?

  He started the engine. “Man, I am starving. Pizza Factory in Oakhurst? Mick’s buying.”

  I nodded, grinning. I could always pay her back later. If she’d speak to me. If they stayed. I shoved the thoughts away.

  At Pizza Factory, we talked about cross country, classes, the French Club’s trip to Europe in December. We didn’t talk about packing or Will’s sister. We didn’t talk about saying goodbye.

  We arrived back at my house as the stars were popping out. At my doorway, Will brushed a hair off my face, lightly. Neither of us spoke, and then he was gone.

  I should have fallen asleep as soon as I crawled in bed, what with an exhausting hike, a near–death experience and a belly full of pizza. But my mind refused to shut down.

  Will is just like me.

  How crazy was that? Will couldn’t leave town. I couldn’t lose him.

  I had to keep him here.

  I jumped out of bed, shoved my legs into the first pair of jeans I found and pulled a hoodie over my nightshirt. This couldn’t wait until tomorrow. I had to sneak out of the house.

  I smiled because all I needed to sneak out of the house was a little running water.

  Sylvia did my bathroom like those magazines with bathroom–as–artwork on the back cover. And right now, what I needed was to run some water out of my artsy faucet into my artsy basin.

  I flicked on the lights and started the water. Sitting on the edge of my tub, I gazed at the cylinder of moving liquid, but the florescent lighting overhead didn’t exactly cast the room in an inspiring glow.

  I rummaged through a drawer of scrunchies and cotton balls and found what I needed. Striking a match, I lit two votives, one on either side of the sink. Then I flicked off the fluorescents.

  The column of water descended noiselessly into the basin, and with a luminary on either side, the water seemed to catch fire, pulsing and glowing with each flare and gutter of the burning candles.

  I thought about all that water running while I was gone, probably breaking fourteen California laws on conservation. I stood to plug the drain and turn off the water. The water in the basin shimmered in the candlelight.

  It was magical. Elemental. A dance of fire and water.

  I caught a ripple passing across the mirror behind the sink and looked up to see myself fade.

  Weird.

  I glided downstairs, past my dad and Sylvia. They tidied the kitchen while discussing me and Will. I wanted to hear the conversation, but I wanted to get to Will more. Dad opened the sliding glass door, and I dashed outside, relieved I didn’t have to try walking through walls at the moment.

  Passing invisibly down the dilapidated highway towards Will’s house, I saw pairs of nocturnal eyes flicker my direction before taking flight. Did they sense a disturbance as I passed? I laughed. Without a mouth. Strange—no wonder animals ran from me.

  As I neared the Baker’s cabin, I began to have second thoughts about knocking on their door. They could be sleeping. They could be packing. And how the heck was I planning to force them to stay? The thought of Mickie’s temper made me want to run back home.

  I saw lights on inside and heard voices in the yard out back. I ghosted behind the old house and saw Mickie, standing where the houselights cast a glow upon her. She glared at her younger brother. I pulled back into the shadows, all thoughts of rematerializing gone for the moment.

  Gazing past the siblings into the cottage–sized dwelling, I saw stacked boxes. They were moving. I felt a deep ache inside, even without a body.

  “I won’t go,” Will said. He was turned from me, but I could imagine the stubborn expression playing across his face.

  “You damned well aren’t staying,” Mick replied.

  “I’m eighteen. You can’t force me to go anywhere. Not if I don’t want to.”

  “Is this about her?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  My heart squeezed.

  “You know how complicated our lives are right now,” said Mickie. “This is not the time—it wouldn’t be fair to her.”

  “I’m not having this conversation with you. Even if there were anything to talk abou
t.”

  Mickie let loose a string of highly uncomplimentary adjectives ending with the word “idiot.”

  Neither spoke for over a minute.

  “Aw, Mick, don’t.” Will moved closer to his sister. “Don’t cry.”

  She was crying?

  “Listen.” He spoke gently. “There’s been no sign that we’re being tracked. It’s been almost two years since the Pfeffer disappeared. Maybe we’re safe now, Mick.”

  Mickie sat down on a large log. She drew in a long and shaky breath. Will sat down beside her and cautiously put one arm over her shoulder.

  “There’s something I haven’t told you,” Mickie said, her voice flat, dull. “Three researchers who studied Helmann’s Disease just died from a gas leak. They studied Helmann’s, Will; not even Rippler’s Syndrome. Things are escalating.”

  Chapter Seven

  OVERHEARD

  A shiver ran along my spine. It took me a moment to realize what that meant—that I had a solid spine again. The shadows hid me as I listened.

  “I read it in the Fresno Bee. Two days ago. I didn’t know how to tell you or what we should do about it. I hoped time hiking in the Park would help me clear my mind.” Mickie sniffled, passing the back of her hand across her nose. “And I wanted to give you a nice memory to keep of your new friend. Will, I was thinking about moving already, even before finding out there’s another rippler in this town.”

  “How do you know they were killed? Did the paper say it was murder?”

  “Will, come on. Gas leaks? It’s like whoever’s behind this isn’t even worried about covering their tracks.”

  “You’re telling me the truth, Mick? This isn’t some crazy way to get me in the Jeep right now?”

  “Like I’d make this stuff up?”

  “You hid this from me.”

  “I hid it so the news wouldn’t wreck your trip to Yosemite.”

  Will hurled a rock far into the dark night. “Geez, Mick, when are you going to stop treating me like a kid?”

  She put her head in her hands, elbows resting on her knees.

  Will sighed heavily and looked at his sister. “Aw, crap. I’m sorry. I know you’d do anything to keep me safe.”

  “Not lie to you, idiot.”

  “Yeah. Okay. I said sorry.”

  Mickie shambled to one of her garden beds and began pulling weeds, something I’d seen Sylvia do when she was stressed.

  “Maybe there really was a gas leak, but it wasn’t intentional,” said Will.

  “Not intentional?” Mick hurled a large weed past the cabin. “You know that’s bullsh—”

  Her expletive was drowned by my yelp of pain as my eyes closed too late, trapping dirt missiles between my eyeballs and eyelids.

  Will was at my side immediately, herding me towards the kitchen. I heard Mickie shuffling in behind us, heard her open the refrigerator.

  “Milk works better,” she said.

  The water Will guided over my eyes had already removed the dirt, but not the scratchy feeling. Mickie moved her brother, held my head in one hand, and slowly poured milk over my eyes. The relief was amazing.

  “Thanks.” I sneezed as milk ran up my nose.

  “A towel, here, Will?” Mickie’s voice had a defeated edge.

  “Where’d you learn that? About milk?” I asked.

  “Raising this idiot,” Mick mumbled, passing me a towel.

  I dabbed at milk, tears, mud, and a bit of leftover mascara draining from my eyes. Glamorous.

  “Didn’t see you there hiding in the dark,” said Mickie.

  I couldn’t tell if her remark was an apology or an accusation.

  “‘S’okay,” I mumbled beneath the towel.

  “What did you hear out there?” Will asked me.

  Mickie muttered, “Oh, here we go,” and collapsed on an ancient papasan chair, cradling her head in her hands.

  “Something about dead people who studied Helmann’s,” I replied.

  “It’s past your curfew,” Will said. “Did you ripple to come over here?”

  I nodded, a proud smile spreading across my face. I wanted to whisper to Will how amazing it was, gliding through the night like a shadow, but seeing his sister, I wiped the grin off my face.

  Will turned to Mickie. “There’s one option you haven’t considered, yet.”

  She looked up at him wearily, across a row of boxes filled with books and kitchen pots. “Killing you myself so I don’t have to worry about someone else beating me to it?”

  Will laughed.

  His sister scowled.

  “Mick, you’ve finally met someone who can ripple,” Will said. “Besides me, obviously. Just think about how much more there is to learn here. Not to mention, your objectivity would be a million percent if you didn’t have to rely on me for all your info on rippling.”

  “There’s no such thing as a million percent. I swear I’m homeschooling you next year.” Mickie growled and I realized what she reminded me of: a mama bear with a cub. She would do whatever it took to keep Will safe.

  “Aren’t you curious?” Will asked. “Knowledge is power, man.”

  Mickie looked from me to her brother, frustration and desire mixing equally on her face. “Yeah, well who taught you that?”

  She wanted to know more about me.

  “I’d be honored to be part of your research,” I said.

  “I’ll sleep on it,” Mickie said. She rose and walked down a short hall and kicked open what had to be her bedroom door.

  “Her door sticks bad,” Will muttered.

  Will insisted on walking me home. The jeep would have drawn attention to the fact I was breaking curfew, and he wasn’t having me go by myself, which I told him was nice but a bit pointless. I could’ve just rippled again and kept perfectly safe.

  He shrugged and smiled. “Maybe I like your company better than my sister’s at the moment.”

  My heart squeezed. “I was afraid you’d be packing up,” I whispered. “I came over to check.”

  “We were packing. Well, my sister was,” he said. “But I don’t think she’ll go through with it. Not after the way we both played the knowledge card on her.” He laughed. “You were brilliant! ‘I’d be honored?’ Genius!”

  “I would be honored, dweeb,” I said, elbowing his ribs.

  He chortled. “Okay, okay. So I’ll text you tomorrow morning.”

  “You’re sure you won’t be leaving?” I asked.

  “I’m starting school on Monday,” he said. “With or without Mick.”

  “See you Monday,” I said.

  Will took off at a run into the weird glow of fog visibility lights. The warm night air rippled around him and he was gone.

  When I awoke the next morning, Sunday, I had two text messages: one each from Will and Gwyn.

  “i know micks curiosity will get the best of her c u monday”

  I sent a smiley face to Will and flipped to Gwyn’s message.

  “ok sam spill the beans how was yosemite i heard u came back alone i mean w/o his sister!!! i m gettin kittens in Oakhurst. come with! tell me everything!!!”

  I pointed out she couldn’t legally drive me.

  “hello! tell your folks i m 17,” she replied.

  My folks didn’t ask, and within an hour Gwyn and I were humming down the road in her mom’s Mini Cooper. Before we left my driveway, she started the cross–examination.

  “So, Yosemite? Tell me everything. The whole town says you came back with just Will last night.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Why would the whole town even care?”

  “Um, well, in case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a distinct lack of entertainment options here.”

  Sam as entertainment? This was new. I tried to figure out what I could reveal, what I had to hide. “They had a fight,” I finally said. “And she took off and we were supposed to meet up at the car, but then she left a note saying she’d gotten her own ride home.”

  “Wow. Fighting with your sibling takes on
a whole different dimension when there’s no Mom or Dad to force you to get along.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “They get along pretty well. I think Mickie has kind of a short fuse, though.”

  “Bet she gets that from her bad–dad,” Gwyn said.

  “Probably.”

  “So, I asked Ma about Will.” She looked at me anxiously. “How much do you like him?”

  My smile gave me away.

  “Uh–oh,” she said.

  “What do you mean, ‘uh–oh’?” I demanded.

  “I’m not sure you’re going to like what I have to tell you.”

  “So stop being dramatic and just spit it out.”

  She lowered her sunglasses ‘til they rested on the tip of her nose and then looked imperiously over the top of them at me. “Moi? Dramatic? Please.”

  I sighed. She was impossible to hurry in this mood.

  “So you know how Ma has all these rental properties?” asked Gwyn.

  “No,” I said. “I thought she just owned the bakery building.”

  “Yeah, that and about a dozen others,” said Gwyn, taking a curve fifteen miles–an–hour over the speed limit.

  My eyebrows leapt up. “Really? No offense, but you guys don’t exactly live like real estate tycoons. And what does this have to do with Will?”

  “I’m getting there,” Gwyn said. “And you’re right. The living–simple is this totally Chinese thing: you work your ass off so your kids can get ahead.” Gwyn rolled her eyes dramatically.

  “That sounds nice,” I said, wondering how I’d get us back to Will again.

  “Yeah, Ma has this plan I’m going to be a doctor so she’s saving for med school. Which I’m totally not doing. I’m moving to Hawaii and opening a yogurt stand. You can work there for me if you want.”

  I chuckled. “Okay, Gwyn. Just cut to the chase and tell me this bad stuff your mom told you about Will.”

  “Fine.” She paused. “So here’s the thing: Will and Mickie rent from Ma, and their rent is paid every month from one of those tiny countries in Europe that have banks people use to hide their money because it’s illegally acquired or dirty somehow. Slovakia. No. Sweden, maybe?”

  “Do you mean Switzerland?” I asked.