The Shadows We Know by Heart

by Jennifer Park

  I should speak, say something, but I’m afraid he’ll run. He wears wildness like a cloak, and every movement is animal-like, from the way he tilts his head at a distant noise to the way his nostrils flare when the breeze blows.

  I tell myself this is what I wanted. I wanted to see the boy again, wanted him to find me.

  But when he takes a step toward me, I forget everything I wanted and run.

  For a moment the only sound is the crashing of my body through the brush, when only seconds ago there was silence. Heart racing, lungs heaving, I try to get my bearings and listen for sounds of hammering or sawing from Matt and Dad. But even if they are there, the pounding and rushing of blood in my ears has drowned them out.

  A familiar whoop echoes in front of me, and I slide to a stop.

  Before I can pull myself out of my frozen state to run again, a hand comes over my mouth, an arm around my waist, and I’m dragged down into the brush behind me. The boy doesn’t move, just keeps me pressed hard against his chest, his head next to mine. I try to yell past his hand, but he makes a shushing sound near my ear and points into the trees.

  A massive dark shape moves in the distance, slow and purposeful.

  It’s the big one, the male. Fear, sharp and metallic, coats my mouth like sand. I can’t help it, I shrink back against the boy, pushing both of us farther back into the shadows.

  The shape stills, not more than twenty yards away.

  The boy tightens his arm around my waist and his hand leaves my mouth, sliding down to wrap around my shoulder. His heart is racing, but not nearly as fast as mine. I’m the one who shouldn’t be here.

  It’s killing me to sit like this. The urge to run is overwhelming, overshadowed only by the desire not to be seen. My body shudders as my hands wrap around my stomach and over the boy’s arm. He flinches at the contact but doesn’t loosen his iron grip on me.

  It feels like years since I’ve blinked, waiting for the dark shadow to move. An ache pulses behind my eyes, and the only thing I have to distract me is the faint, rhythmic brushing of the boy’s thumb over my collarbone. I guess he’s trying to calm me, or maybe it’s just a nervous tic, but it’s almost as distracting as the realization that the Bigfoot are watching us. Spying on them safely within view of my house is one thing. Being miles into the forest and knowing they are watching you in their territory is another thing entirely.

  Finally the Sasquatch moves, his gaze directed beyond us.

  “Where is he going?” I whisper.

  The boy is silent, his features focused. The shadow drifts silently through the trees, and when I hear the telltale sound of a hammer, my skin grows cold.

  “He’s going to them, isn’t he? Matt and Dad?” Once again the boy doesn’t speak. His gaze has shifted to me, though, and he stares hard at my mouth, his own lips moving softly, speaking words with no sound.

  For the first time I wonder if he can even talk. What if he can’t? But then, who would he talk to if he lives with creatures that technically don’t exist?

  When the Bigfoot disappears, I stand, and the boy’s arms slide off like water. I duck down, moving out of the brush, but he grabs my arm and pushes himself in front of me. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes.

  Sympathy, along with something sharp and nameless, surges through me. We’re so close now, I can see how green his eyes are, just as rich as the forest around us. His eyes drop from mine, and strands of sun-bleached hair drift across his face, at odds with the deeper browns that hang across his shoulders.

  He reaches out a hand to my face. Air freezes in my lungs. He doesn’t touch my skin but slides his fingers through the hair behind my ear, tugging a stray leaf from the tangles. His hand drops, the leaf tucked into his fist. His eyes never leave mine.

  My chest burns with the lack of oxygen, reminding me to breathe. I wish he would look away so it wouldn’t be so hard.

  The loud bang of metal makes us both jump. Then a procession of bangs follows. Moments later a gunshot rings out. I push past the boy and start to run. I know where I’m going only because I can hear Matt yelling. The deer blind comes into view, and just as I see the Ranger, the boy jerks me behind a tree, but not before I see a rock come flying out of the trees to land on the metal hood. There are several littering the ground around the Ranger, and just as many dents in the shiny red metal.

  A fierce roar echoes through the forest. I flinch, and the boy moves me around the tree, away from view of the blind. When he moves closer, I stop breathing again. He glances at me curiously before he leans away to peer around the trunk.

  Another gunshot echoes through the silence, and this time I’m the one jerking him back. I switch places with him so fast I can see the surprise pass across his features when it’s his back up against the tree. Placing my hands on his chest, I press hard. “Stay. Here.” Maybe he understands, maybe not, but I have to find Matt and Dad. I don’t want them shooting the boy by accident. “Stay. I mean it.” I dart around the tree as his fingers grasp for my arm. I yell for Dad before I change my mind and let the boy pull me back, just to avoid the coming confrontation.

  “Leah?” The shock in Dad’s voice is evident. I will pay for this. “Where are you?”

  “Here.” I run through the trees to where they stand beneath the base of the deer blind.

  “What are you doing here?” Dad whispers harshly, jerking me behind him. Matt eyes me like I’ve sprouted horns or something until another rock hits the Ranger. Dad hasn’t let go of my arm, and his grip is only tightening. “We’re leaving.”

  “What?” Matt says. “We’re just going to let this guy get away with this? Come on, Dad, we can’t just leave. Look at the damn Ranger!” Another rock comes flying out of the trees, leaving a softball-size dent in the hood.

  “Now. Get in.” Dad drags me along, basically propelling me into the backseat face-first. He doesn’t even wait for Matt, just cranks the motor and swings around, letting Matt jump in as the Ranger slows.

  “What about our tools? You’re just going to leave it all here?”

  “We’ll come back later,” Dad says, pressing the gas and slamming me against the backseat. I scramble for a handhold, finally sitting up against the faded leather. When Dad catches my eye in the rearview mirror, I wish I’d stayed down. Or maybe stayed in the woods to begin with. My sanctuary has been ripped apart and stained with violence, and I can’t help but feel it’s my fault.

  The list of things I’ve done wrong today seems to be growing.

  I spin around, grasping desperately for a secure grip so I can look back as we careen down the trail.

  The boy is standing there, right where I stood only moments ago, his eyes hooded and fists clenched.

  And just before we turn a sharp corner, a dark, massive shape joins him, and then they are both gone from sight.

  chapter five

  This time I’ve done more than simply break a Cardinal Rule.

  “Have you lost your mind?” Dad jerks me from the backseat after the Ranger slides to a haphazard stop in the backyard. “What were you—why—you’ve crossed a line, young lady!”

  Here we go, I tell myself as I fall into repentant daughter mode. “Dad, I’m—”

  “I don’t want to hear it. There is nothing in this world you could say to justify your presence in those woods. Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?” I stumble as he yanks on my sleeve, but Dad never slows in our stampede to the kitchen. Somewhere in my mind I register the fact that Mom is pulling into the driveway.

  “We have these rules for a reason, Leah. They’re not there for you to test, but to protect you.” The fact that Dad personally escorts me up to my room is the first clue that this is more than simply breaking a house rule. “Don’t come out of this room. I don’t want to see you right now.”

  The second clue is when Mom tromps up the stairs minutes later, grocery bags and car keys still in hand, and stares at me through the open door. “I thought you were sick.”

&
nbsp; “I . . . the aspirin helped. I just went for a walk.”

  “You went into the woods by yourself? What if you’d gotten hurt? Run across hogs or got bitten by a snake?”

  “I stayed on the trail, Mom. I was careful.”

  She sighs. “But you know the rules. They’re there for a reason. What else happened? Your father seems excessively upset and neither of them will stop arguing long enough to answer my question.”

  “Something—someone was trying to mess with us, throwing rocks, being stupid. Probably some kids or something.”

  Mom’s eyes widen, and then she abruptly shuts my door and hurries down the stairs.

  Matt’s raised voice echoes up through the floorboards, answered by Dad. Their words are muffled, angry, and minutes later my brother’s in my room. “What the hell were you doing out there?” Matt slams the door behind him.

  “Just walking. I was coming to find you, so I don’t know why it’s such a big deal.” I’m sure not going to explain what I was doing out there. I can’t even imagine Dad’s reaction to that.

  “Between you showing up and that guy throwing rocks, Dad’s about to lose it, and he’ll probably start with you if Mom doesn’t start with him first. You picked a hell of a day to get caught breaking the rules, Leah.”

  “He’s overreacting.”

  “Yeah, tell that to our parents. You’ll be lucky if you leave this room again before Monday morning.”

  “It can’t be that bad.”

  Matt shakes his head like it is. “I’m going to see if Dad has called the sheriff yet. The damage is ridiculous. I mean, who does that? Who throws rocks at people in the freaking woods?” He swings the door open again, closing it just as loud as he did the first time.

  His voice echoes up through the floorboards, but this time Dad doesn’t argue with him. Finally Matt stomps up the stairs and slams the door of his room, leaving the house in silence.

  It’s barely midday and it looks like I’m stuck in this room for the rest of it. It’s probably too much to hope that I’m staying in here tomorrow. Dad may be furious, but there’s no way in hell he’d let me skip church. I’m sure the sermon will be related directly to me and my actions, worded so that no one else realizes I’m getting a thirty-minute lecture in front of half the community.

  After a while Dad’s voice drones downstairs, his businesslike tone suggesting a phone conversation; high-pitched at times, and then so low I think he’s not speaking at all. I could go down and try to explain myself, but he’s right, there’s no possible reason to justify my presence that far in the woods, or in the forest at all. Plus, Mom knows I lied about being sick, so I’d have to see that look of disappointment on her face again.

  I drop to the bed, resigned. It’s been ten years since the incident that led to the rule about the woods, although why we would move here afterward, literally next to a massive forest, is still a mystery to me. I stop my thoughts before they go too far. If I’m not in the solace of the trees, I can’t think about it. Those are my rules, the only ones I truly obey.

  It’s only when I open my eyes that I realize I fell asleep. The shadows are long on the walls of my room, painting patches of bright orange and deep blue across the faded wallpaper. The house is so silent my ears start to ring. Then the door opens suddenly, revealing Matt, hair damp, wearing fresh clothes and a look that makes me slightly nervous.

  “Come on, get dressed.”

  “What are you talking about? I am dressed.”

  “Something else.” He eyes my dusty boots and grass-stained jean knees.

  “Last time I checked, it doesn’t matter what I’m wearing because I’m not leaving this room.”

  “Mom and Dad are gone. They said they’d be back late, and I’m not staying here. Come with me, it’s better than staying here with your nose stuck in a book.”

  “They left? Why? Did Dad call the sheriff?”

  “Yes, don’t know, and yes.”

  “Dad will kill me if I leave this room.”

  “Do you think it can get any worse? You’re not freaking five years old. He’s not going to throw your toys away because you broke the rules. You don’t have a car or a phone, so worse would just be longer in this room than you already stay anyway. What’s the difference?”

  “Are you going to yell at me the whole time? Because if you’re still mad at me, I’d rather just stay here.”

  “I’m not, I’m just pissed at Dad for letting that guy go, I think he’s too hard on you, and I don’t want to stay in this boring house on a Saturday night.”

  “Where are we going?” I ask warily.

  Matt glances down at his watch. “People are usually in the parking lot by now. I’m sure we’ll find something to do.”

  “At the high school?”

  Matt nods, checking his watch again. “I’m leaving in ten. If you’re coming, meet me downstairs.” He gives me half a smile and closes the door.

  Against my questionable better judgment, I change clothes and find Matt in the kitchen. I feel like I’m about to break a Commandment or something. “I don’t guess it’d do any good to tell them you made me leave if we get caught.”

  “Dad said late. That means way past dark, and I doubt he checks to see if you’re in your room. It’s not like you’d be crazy enough to disobey him a second time.”

  “Obviously you think I am.”

  “Obviously.” Matt grins and grabs the keys to Mom’s car off the hook. “Off to the dark side we go.”

  “They’re going to see the car is gone.”

  “Yes. But I’m not grounded.”

  “How will I get back in the house if they’re here waiting?”

  “That magnolia tree is pretty close to your window. It’d be a jump, but you could make it.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “Do you want to get caught?”

  “So you’re making me break more rules because you’re on my side? It’s like you want me to be grounded until I’m eighteen.”

  “Exactly.” He winks as he slides into the driver’s seat, cranking it back to accommodate his long legs. “Besides, I think you’ve been the good preacher’s daughter long enough.”

  I almost tell him he’s got no idea how long I’ve been breaking Dad’s rules, but explaining that is the last thing that’s going to happen.

  We tear down the dirt road, my white knuckles gripping the seat when Matt slings us onto the two-lane highway. Pine trees line the road, full of shadows that tease my eyes. Shapes zip by, more than I can count, and every one could be something or nothing. Ten minutes later Matt swerves into the parking lot of the high school, where a dozen cars and trucks are parked randomly around a group of students, all of whom I recognize. It’s impossible not to know everyone in a school this small.

  Matt rolls down the window on my side as the car grinds to a stop on loose gravel. “What’s up?” He nods at a group of boys.

  “Hey, Matt,” Kelsey Wright calls, waving from across the parking lot. Matt waves back casually, his most winning smile pasted on his face.

  Ben Hanson saunters over and leans on the door. His dark-eyed gaze drags across my legs before he meets Matt’s eyes. “What are you two doing? No church tonight?” he says with a smirk.

  “Dude, it’s Saturday,” Matt jokes back.

  “What are you doing out of the house, preacher’s kid?” Ben turns his attention back to me.

  “Nothing,” I say too quickly, ignoring the comment. But Ben wouldn’t know I’m not supposed to be here, so why am I sweating this? “Just, you know, out.”

  Ben blinks. “You? Out? Does your daddy know what you’re doing?”

  “Lay off her, dude.” Matt rolls his eyes. “Hey, where are we going?”

  “Well, let’s see. Shelly Johns’s parents are out of town, so there’s that. Rob Kelly’s brother is getting us . . . libations.” Ben eyes me cautiously, as if I might call my dad immediately and tell him they’re all about to get drunk. Anger flushes my body,
sending heat prickling along my skin.

  “Wow, Ben. That’s a big word. Are you old enough to use that?”

  Matt laughs loudly, causing Ben’s face to darken, then grin. Something flashes in his eyes, and for a moment Ben looks at me like I’m someone other than Matt’s little sister and Pastor Roberts’s daughter. I would be lying if I said it didn’t make me nervous in a butterfly-fluttering way.

  “I’m sure you’ll get the chance to prove yourself before the night’s over, little Leah.” Ben slaps the roof of the car. With a whoop he signals the rest of the group to load up.

  “Is this usually what you do on a Saturday night when you tell Dad you are over at Ben’s house or out on a date?” I say when Ben walks away, gritting my teeth over the way he continuously calls me something other than simply Leah.

  “Yep.” Matt puts the car in reverse, swinging around to follow the caravan out of the parking lot. “Small-town Saturday night.”

  “Isn’t that a song?”

  “Isn’t everything?”

  “Probably. Is this going to be one of those pasture parties where everyone just stands around talking, listens to music, and drinks? Is that really fun to you?”

  “Just call it a party, okay? You make it sound cheesy.”

  “Um, it’s in a pasture. ‘Pasture party’ makes sense. You don’t want me to call it that, have it somewhere else.”

  “Well, Shelly Johns lives in the woods, so technically it’s not exactly a ‘pasture party,’ ” he says, emphasizing the words with his fingers.

  “But drinking and explicit music and generally everything Dad would disapprove of?”

  “Um . . .” Matt bite his lips and nods. “Well, it’s not Sodom and Gomorra kind of stuff, but yeah, he’d have a minor cardiac arrest if he knew what we were doing.”

  “I heard some of the football boys got extra inebriated and decided to jump naked over a bonfire a few weeks ago after the win. You know anything about that?”