Reckoning

by Molly M. Hall

  “Anyway,” Rick continues, “I was determined I wouldn’t let the chance slip by me again, so I asked you to the party.”

  “I’m glad you did,” I murmur. Trying to stay focused, I think about Rachel and the comments she had made earlier. Although she had her opinions about this evening, I also had mine. Deciding I may as well jump in the deep end now and find out just how cold the water is before getting too carried away, I plunge in feet first. “But don’t you have a girlfriend?”

  Rick shakes his head. “No. I have a lot of friends who are girls, but no girlfriend. Not right now, anyway.” He glances at me quickly, before looking away.

  I look at him in surprise, the water not nearly as frigid as I thought it would be. A tiny bloom of happiness starts to unfurl inside me. “But what about Prin…that girl with the dark hair I always see you with?”

  He thinks for a moment before answering. “Brooke?”

  “I don’t know her name, but she’s always…like…got her arm around you and stuff. So I just assumed…”

  “Not even. We’re just, like, really good friends. She lives next door. Honestly, there’s nothing romantic there.”

  “Seriously? I’m surprised.”

  “Really?” He pauses, his brows drawn together in thought. “Yeah, I guess I can see how you might get the wrong idea. She’s a real touchy-feely kind of person. Especially with her friends. But we’ve never been more than that. We just don’t see each other that way. It’d be like dating my sister.” He grimaces, one lip turning up at the corner.

  The bloom opens wider in my chest. “Good to know,” I say.

  “What about you? Boyfriends…long list of admirers?”

  I laugh. “Hardly!” Shaking my head, I add, “No. No boyfriend.”

  He smiles. “Good to know.”

  We both laugh and, for the first time all evening I start to relax. The tension that has been gnawing at my stomach begins to ease. Maybe this won’t be as hard as I thought. We actually have a history, vague as it is. Rick takes a seat next to me and suddenly we’re talking. And it isn’t that God-when-will-this-be-over strained small talk that leaves you longing for escape, or any of those boring one-sided monologues about cars or video games or football that seem to go on and on while I pretend to be interested. It’s real, genuine conversation. Exchanging thoughts and ideas, asking questions, learning about the other person. Just how I’ve always imagined, or hoped, it would be.

  We talk about what we’ve been doing since middle school and what our interests are. I’m surprised to learn how much we have in common - like a love of sunrises, if, that is, he can manage to get out of bed; warm weather; evenings at the movie theatre; Japanese animé; big plates of French fries; awesome music playlists. And our mutual hatred of long airplane rides and research papers, and those ridiculous television commercials for prescription meds.

  “If you experience hallucinations,” Rick says, his tone a perfect parody of the commercial voice-over, “swelling of the gums or throat, your brain begins bleeding out of your ears or your eyes spontaneously combust, contact your doctor immediately as these may be a sign of serious side effects. Yeah. I want some of that.”

  I’m laughing so hard tears are streaming from my eyes. I can’t remember the last time I’ve enjoyed myself so much. Or when I’ve felt so at ease with someone other than Rachel. I know a lot of has to do with Rick’s laid-back charm, not to mention his zany sense of humor. He can probably make just about anybody feel comfortable. He has that relaxed and easy-going quality – the embodiment of the whole Life Is Good theme. I watch him and think about his earlier words and how relaxed he seems to be talking with me. Apparently he’s gotten over his inability to talk to girls.

  I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. I feel happy and…normal. Like maybe, for the first time, I don’t have to be on constant alert, guarding my words and actions. And everything else – the unexplainable, mystifying, incomprehensible – belongs to another life. Another Kat. And I can just be…me.

  I ease back into the seat, tucking one leg beneath me, enjoying the warm night air, the sound of Rick’s voice, the smell of grass and trees and summer. I love the fact that he can talk about himself so easily. For someone like me, who’s spent her entire life carefully guarding her secrets, it is a novelty. Rare and wondrous. Before long, I’ve learned that his birthday is September 19, and that he has one sister, Megan, currently attending college in California. His parents divorced two years ago. His dad remarried last year and his step-mom is nice, but distant. He hasn’t seen his mom in over a year since she had gone off on a wilderness retreat in Canada and then decided to stay, moving in with the instructor. He wants to be a sports therapist and has already signed up for AP Biology and Physics for his senior year, and is hoping to do volunteer work at one of the local sports therapy offices in town over the summer. And he loves snowboarding, chocolate, cookie-dough ice cream and old Marvel comic books. Important, personal things. Simple things. The things that make him the person he is.

  “So what about you?” he asks, shifting on the bench to look at me directly. “I should let you talk for a change. You’re probably sick of listening to me. Here I said I always wanted to get to know you, and now I never shut up.”

  “That’s OK,” I protest. “I don’t mind. I like listening to you.”

  “Thanks. I don’t usually talk this much, but you’re a good listener.”

  I shrug one shoulder, not sure what to say.

  “So what’s your favorite ice-cream flavor?” he asks.

  “Well, I’m not so much into ice-cream, but I could devour a bowl of potato chips any day. It’s a salt thing.”

  “Yeah? Well, maybe we can go out for a scoop of vanilla-potato chip-crunch sometime.”

  “That’s disgusting!”

  He laughs and agrees. “But seriously, tell me about you.”

  I look across the park. “Not much to know about me.”

  “I don’t believe that. I think there’s a ton to know. You just don’t share it very much, do you?”

  “No. I’m not a big talker.”

  “That’s cool. I like that. Most girls I know won’t shut up for even two minutes. It’s like you know their whole story, and everyone else’s, before you’ve even introduced yourself. If you can actually stand to listen to it for that long.”

  I can’t help but laugh, picturing some girl blathering on and on while Rick’s eyes slowly glaze over.

  “There’s just so much drama,” he continues. “With everything. School. Friends. Family. Hair. It’s never ending.” His shoulders clench in a mock shudder. “But you don’t seem to be a part of all that. You never did.”

  “No. Who needs it? I just try to stay out of it all.” My life is already a paranormal soap opera, without the added element of teenage drama queen. Combining the two might result in my head exploding.

  “So what do you like to do? I noticed you’re not part of drama club anymore.”

  “It’s not really my thing. I only did it before because my parents made me.”

  “Do you still draw? I remember you always used to carry around a notebook and pencils.”

  “Yeah, I still draw all the time. And I read, and listen to music a lot. And I go for runs or long walks.”

  I watch the light from an airplane, distant and miniscule, move slowly across the black expanse of sky before disappearing behind a thin veil of clouds.

  “I’m really glad we could get together tonight, Kat. This has been great.”

  “Yeah, it has. When I found out Rachel couldn’t come, I almost decided to stay home.”

  “Well, that would have sucked. Then I still would’ve been waiting for the chance to talk to you.”

  “You could have talked to me any time. I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

  ‘Yeah, well…” he shrugs, biting the corner of his bottom lip. “Sometimes you just gotta wait for the right moment, you know?” His brown eyes look into mine, and he smiles. “Anywa
y,” he continues, looking away and scuffing the grass with his shoe, “I always thought there was a lot to learn about you; a lot going on in your head. Even though you keep most of it to yourself. But just sitting here talking tonight proved I was right. I hope I get the chance to learn a lot more. I’d really like to know everything about you.”

  As thrilling as it is to hear those words, I instinctively tense. Because there are some things he can’t ever know.

  “So, when’s your birthday?” he asks, surprising me with the question.

  “Believe it or not, today.”

  “No way! You’re kidding, right? That’s totally awesome. Happy birthday!”

  “Thanks.” My phone buzzes with a new text message and I reach for my bag. Seeing who it’s from, I smile. “Rachel. Checking up on me. She was totally convinced I’d have a great time tonight.”

  Rick raises his eyebrows, pretending to be shocked. “And you weren’t? I’m so hurt.”

  “No!” I protest. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just…”

  “No, no,” Rick says, holding up his hand and turning his head away. “Say no more. The truth is out, and the damage is done.”

  “Shut up,” I say with a laugh.

  “Hey, I’m just calling it the way I see it.”

  Shaking my head, I click open the text message.

  Having fun??

  I chuckle silently, noticing the time with a shock: 10:27. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe it’s almost 10:30.”

  “Seriously?” He glances at his watch. “Wow. I feel like we just got here.”

  “I know. But we better go. I have to be home by eleven.” I smile apologetically.

  “No problem. We’ll head back.” He stands and extends his hand.

  Charmed by the gesture, I place my hand in his, thrilling at the touch of his skin. His fingers are warm, the skin alternately soft and callused. He squeezes my hand, then releases it, shoving his hands in his pockets. We walk slowly out of the park and I reach for my phone to let Rachel know I’m ready to go. Even though I wish the night didn’t have to end, I’m not crazy enough to try and break curfew. Even though I’m really tempted. Then it hits me.

  “Damn! I left my phone on the bench!”

  “I’ll get it…” Rick starts to say, but I wave him aside.

  “That’s OK. I’ll grab it.” Turning, I dash back to the bench, and just as I reach for it, it buzzes. I smile, thinking I’m really going to have to give Rachel a hard time for these interruptions. The thought crosses my mind that I should totally blow her mind and tell her we made out. I can just imagine her expression. I click on the message, and stare.

  It is just one word, but it makes my heart climb into my throat.

  KATRIONA

  A gentle breeze moves through the trees and gooseflesh creeps up my arms. I look around cautiously, my ears straining for even the slightest sound. Nothing. No dreaded flashes of a ghostly pink dress. No brain-numbing whispering. Just an empty expanse of green, dotted with trees, the stark silhouettes of houses rising behind.

  My phone buzzes again, the vibration rippling through the nerve endings in my hand like a low-voltage jolt of electricity. I feel a sudden desire to fling it as far away from me as I can.

  Reluctantly, I look down and click on the message.

  RUN

  Turning around, I see Rick, smiling back at me, waiting patiently. A scream of anguish and frustration begins to build deep inside of me and I hear a noise to my right, like the whooshing of wings. Jerking my head to the side, my eyes widen in shock, and I duck, narrowly missing a massive black bird as it sweeps past me, angling upward. I think I hear Rick say something, but his words are drowned out by the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears. I glance up, looking for the bird and see a large, dark shape sweeping past the top of the trees. I have no idea how any of it is connected – the girl, the texts, the bird – but instinctively I know they are. And it isn’t good.

  I look at Rick again, the wonder and magic of this evening still singing through my veins, and my shock turns to anger. Hot, fiery, rebellious anger. This will not happen. Not tonight.

  Clenching my jaw, I glare up at the sky. LEAVE ME ALONE, I scream in my head. Whatever issues this dead girl has, it has nothing to do with me.

  Rick begins walking toward me. “Everything OK, Kat?”

  I swallow, gathering my emotions back into a tight bundle. “Fine.” I force a smile onto my face, jogging back to him. “Just Rachel sending me another message.”

  I step into the pool of light beneath the streetlamp, anxious to leave the darkness behind. Suddenly, the light flickers, an odd sizzling sound emanating from the globes. I stop and stare, watching as several sparks shoot out the sides. The bird, the largest crow I have ever seen, swoops down from the trees, one shining, jet black eye looking directly at me. Sound disappears and time seems to fold in on itself, slowing to half-speed. The same weightless feeling I’d experienced at school creeps over me, and I tense, fighting off the panic.

  I stare at the bird, watching it descend lower and lower. It’s wings beat once, moving slowly down and back up again. Sparks continue to jet from the streetlamp, each brightly pointed flash of light spewing out in a torpid, glowing trail, before dropping slowly and silently to the ground. The bird is nearly on top of me. It sweeps past, close enough that I can feel the rush of air beneath its wings, gently lifting my hair. Then it arcs upward, higher and higher, before turning and diving back toward me again, it’s beak open in a silent cry.

  I stand and stare, frozen in place, numb with shock and disbelief. My phone vibrates dully in my palm, and I slowly lower my head. As though acting strictly through muscle memory, my thumb pushes the message button.

  NOW

  I look back up at the bird. Then at the streetlamp. And suddenly, I understand. The obscure text messages melding into clear and precise meaning. But my legs won’t move.

  I gasp, inhaling sharply as I struggle to break free of the torpor that has possessed me, and the world abruptly charges back into normal motion, sound and movement taking on a vivid clarity. The bird rushes toward me, it’s head cocked at an odd angle. The sparking and sizzling of the streetlamp grows louder, the globes glowing and flashing like some kind of deranged sparkler on the fourth of July. I take one slow step backward just as the globes explode with a loud bang, hundreds of tiny pieces of glass slicing through the air. I yelp and duck, lunging to the side.

  “Holy shit!” Rick runs toward me. “What the hell? Are you OK, Kat?” He puts an arm around my shoulders, pulling me away from the streetlamp.

  Shaking, I stand up straight. The streetlamp sparks feebly, making an odd humming noise. I cast a nervous glance at the sky. The bird is gone. “Yeah, I’m…I’m fine.” The words sound croaked and strangled.

  “I’ve never seen anything like that!” He steps back, staring up at the light. “That was just friggin’ wild!”

  I watch him, filled with anxiety that he will be totally freaked out, chalking this up as the worst date ever with some weird girl who attracts ridiculously large birds and causes random streetlight explosions. The evening will become a favorite story that he will still be telling years from now. I can’t let that happen. Thinking rapidly, I try to come up with ways to make light of the whole thing. “It must have been a weird power surge or something.” I laugh shakily, willing him to believe it.

  He shakes his head and looks at me, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “I always knew there was something about you. Man, you’re one exciting chick.”

  Something about me…if you only knew, I think. Glancing warily behind me, I gently brush a stray shard of glass from my shoulder. “Let’s just get out of here.” Keep it together, Kat. Just keep it together.

  My mind reeling, I try to focus on Rick’s story about seeing the protective glass shattering at a hockey game once, while I send Rachel a text with the simple message, READY. My emotions are a jumbled mess of anger, shock and confusion, mixed with a
newfound feeling of excitement and anticipation. I hold tight to that feeling of happiness, wishing more than anything that I could recapture the magic of earlier.

  Too quickly, we return to the house, pausing outside the back gate. The party still seems to be in full swing, although the music has been turned down, faint strains of it now issuing from open doors and windows.

  Rick reaches for my hand. “Thanks again for coming tonight, Kat. I had a great time. Exploding lights and all.” He grins, his crooked tooth adding to his infectious grin.

  “Me, too,” I say. And I mean it. More than he can possibly know. Even though it lasted for only a couple hours, I don’t know if I’ll ever feel that normal again. The thought of losing that, of never experiencing it again, makes me unbelievably sad.

  “In case you haven’t figured it out yet,” he says quietly, a slightly timid note creeping into his voice, “back in middle school I had the biggest crush on you.” He looks at me uncertainly, as if unsure how I will react.

  I drop my head, staring at our intertwined hands, my heart soaring. “I just feel like an idiot, because I never knew. And that I totally didn’t recognize you. Alex.”

  He laughs. “Hey, I’m glad you didn’t recognize me. God, I looked like such a total geek.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t that bad. Actually, now that I think about it, you were kind of cute. Even with the hair…and the pants…and those fingerless gloves you used to wear…and those awful oversized tshirts…and weren’t your ears, like, really big?”

  “OK! Stop! And no, my ears weren’t big. Maybe my feet, but not my ears.”

  We both laugh, leaning against the fence.

  He takes a deep breath, his tone becoming serious. “I’d like to see you again, Kat. If that’s OK.”

  I exhale silently in relief, realizing with surprise that I’ve been holding my breath. It was OK. He hadn’t been completely freaked out by everything that had happened.

  He’ll eventually figure it out, Kat. You can’t hide something like that forever. I push the thought aside, focusing on him.