In Honor

by Jessi Kirby

  Sam leaned over and patted her leg. “So her plan is for us to get up while it’s still dark, dive down so we can see the stars, then watch the sun come up. From the bottom of the Blue Hole.”

  Rusty raised his eyebrows, impressed. “Nice.”

  I didn’t say anything, but I flashed on a line from Finn’s letter: Watch the stars disappear, and I looked up at the sky, almost waiting for a reaction.

  Corrie gave a nod, finished off her beer, and stood. “Anyone want another?” I’d barely gotten halfway through mine, but the boys raised their hands, so she went to the cooler and returned with another dripping round.

  Wyatt laid his hand on the arm of my chair. “So,” he said, bringing me back to the moment. “You should dive with us.”

  “Did you miss the part where I’m from Texas? We don’t scuba dive there.”

  “Know how to swim?”

  “Yes.”

  Wyatt furrowed his brow, like he was thinking. Then the idea came to him. “I could breathe for you.”

  I briefly pictured us locked together beneath the water. “Like mouth to mouth?” He had to be joking.

  He laughed and raised an eyebrow. “I could do that, too, if you want, but no. What I meant was, we could put an extra hose on my tank that you could breathe from, give you a weight belt, and have you dive with me so you can watch the sun rise.”

  It sounded amazing and beautiful and scary all at the same time and was exactly the type of thing Finn would have done without hesitation. Would have convinced me to do too. I glanced across the fire at Rusty, who was watching me with a smirk that made me wonder how many beers he’d had. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t look away either.

  Corrie bumped my shoulder. “You should, Honor. It’ll be gorgeous. When else are you gonna get a chance like this? And it’s not complicated. I can walk you through it, but basically you just have to relax and breathe.” She smiled with the warmth of a good friend, and out of nowhere I missed Lilah. If I’d opened the letter earlier, she’d be the one next to me in the passenger seat. We’d listen to Kyra Kelley the whole way and snap pictures of each other with the wind in our hair. But she was on her way to school, thinking I was too, with no idea about any of this.

  Sam interrupted my thoughts. “Corrie’s a good teacher. You’ll be in great hands.”

  Wyatt tipped his head to touch mine and held out his hands in the firelight. “These ones are pretty good too.”

  I took one of his hands in my own and examined it. “I guess they are. As long as you wash them after you pee.”

  He pulled it back and smiled into his lap. “I’m not gonna live that one down, am I?”

  “Not a chance. But I’m in. I’ll try it.” It came out more confident than I felt, but they were right about having a chance like this. Finn would’ve said so too.

  Corrie clapped her hands, Wyatt nodded, satisfied, and Sam stood to wedge another log into the orange-hot coals. “Rusty, you in too? We’ve got enough gear.”

  “Yeah, maybe so.” He shrugged. “If we stay the night.” His eyes met mine for a brief second, and I saw in them . . . what? Disapproval? Jealousy? What?

  Two more logs on the fire and a case of empty beer bottles later, we were most definitely staying. The camp sounds of kids playing and adults talking and clanking pots and pans had died down and given way to the kind of calm that makes you want to speak softly. An occasional pair of flashlights floated by on the road as campers made their way to the restroom, and we sat within the orangey glow of the campfire.

  Corrie and Sam had pulled their chairs close, and she slung her long legs over his lap. They tipped their heads way back, laughing at themselves and trying to pick out constellations from the stars spread thick in the sky. Sam pointed. “I know that’s something right . . . there. You see that thing that looks kind of like a cross?” Corrie sat up and moved her head closer to his squinting to see what he was talking about.

  Wyatt and I had our heads leaned back on the now-cool metal chair frames, eyes to the sky. You could make any number of crosses with the myriad of stars dotting the sky above us. All around us, really. Aside from the shrubs dividing the campsites, nothing else obstructed the view, which gave the feeling we were under a dome made of tiny glittering lights.

  Rusty’s voice surprised me. “It’s Cygnus.” I’d thought he’d fallen asleep in his chair a while ago. While the rest of us switched to water so we could wake up at ‘dark thirty’ for our scuba dive, he’d kept on, getting quieter with each beer, while we compared everything we could about Texas and California.

  “It’s what?” I wasn’t even sure he’d said a real word, and I was so tired, I didn’t want to put in the energy to figure it out. I didn’t move, but kept looking for a cross.

  “Sig. Nus. It’s a swan, not a cross.”

  Sam jabbed a finger at the sky. “That’s it! That’s the one! Cygnus. I’ve heard it called the Northern Cross, too, though.”

  I sat up in time to see Rusty tip his bottle back, swallow hard, then nod. “Yeah, that too. Cygnus is the name of the swan.” I didn’t know what was more surprising: that he figured out where Sam was pointing or that he knew the proper name of the constellation.

  Corrie kept her head back, still looking. “Is there a story about it? I always used to love the stories about how people or the gods or whatever became stars.”

  It was quiet a moment as we all pondered a possible story for the cross/swan. It was Rusty, again, who spoke. “Yeah, there’s a story.” I waited for the smart-ass line that had to be coming. His way of giving Sam and Corrie a hard time. Instead, he sat forward in his chair, elbows resting on his thighs.

  “There were a couple of buddies, guys who woulda done anything for each other. And they always liked to one-up the other doing wild shit. So one of ’em came up with the idea to race their chariot things across the sky, around the sun, and back again.” He paused, and I caught a shift in his tone. The others were still looking up at the stars, listening to his story like kids getting tucked in. I watched Rusty. He twirled his empty beer bottle in the dirt in front of him, then continued without looking up. “So one of the guys crashed his cart and ended up stuck at the bottom of this river. And his buddy, Cygnus, saw it and dove down to get him, but the guy was all tangled up in the weeds at the bottom. Well Cygnus dove down again and again, trying to get his friend loose, but he couldn’t do it no matter how hard he tried. So he finally gave up and sat down on the bank of the river and begged Zeus to do something ’cuz he knew his best friend was gone.”

  He paused, and I knew the others were silently waiting to hear the end of the story. I couldn’t have said anything if I wanted to. In that moment, his words sat on my chest, heavy with something I could feel but didn’t wholly understand. Something that hurt in a more real way than anything else had in the last few days. Something the two of us, sitting there, shared.

  He looked up and held my eyes as he started again slowly. “So Zeus took pity on this guy, Cygnus, because he was so broken up about his friend. And he made him a deal: He told him that if he turned him into a swan, he’d be able to dive down and get his friend. So he could have a proper burial and be sent off to wherever in peace. The catch was, he’d have to give up his immortality to do it. And stay a swan until he died.” He paused and I looked up at the sky, hoping no one could see how hard I was working to hold back what felt like a warm flood rising behind my eyes.

  Rusty went on. “Cygnus didn’t give it a second thought. Traded his life to honor his friend. And then when he died, Zeus stuck him up in the sky as a swan for being such a stand-up guy.” He gave the beer bottle another spin, and when it got away from him, he didn’t bother to grab for it. “Anyway, that’s the story of that one.”

  I stared up at the four stars that were Cygnus, and couldn’t help but picture Rusty and Finn, wild and inseparable. When they hit the field together, they may as well have been racing chariots across the sky. They were all fire and glory when they played.
People called them the dream team and did stories and news features about the best friends who were also the best pair of cornerbacks in Texas high school football. There was no such thing as one without the other.

  For the first time since Finn’s death, I was sad for someone besides myself.

  More than a few beats passed before Corrie sat up. “Aww, I like that one. Sad, though. How do you know it? No offense, but you don’t seem like the astronomy type.” She smiled and we all turned, waiting for his answer. I knew, though. My brother was the astronomy type.

  Rusty turned his head to the side and spit. “Heard it from a friend.” He stood. “I gotta take a piss.” To anyone else, he probably just sounded drunk, but I recognized the edge in his voice. I watched him disappear into the dark and wondered for a second if I should follow or try to talk to him about Finn, but I didn’t have it in me. Instead, I wiped my damp cheeks as discreetly as I could and sat up in my chair.

  Corrie stood and stretched, looking at Sam. “I’m going to bed. You coming?”

  “Yep.” He checked the coals in the fire pit. “You guys can just let that burn down if you’re gonna be up a little while.”

  We nodded, and Sam put his hands on Corrie’s shoulders, steering her to their tent. “Wyatt, you’re in the truck tonight. See you before sunrise.”

  When they were zipped into their tent, Wyatt stretched his arms over his head and sighed. “I gotta learn a few of those stories about the stars. You seemed pretty impressed over there.”

  I kept my eyes on the fire. “What do you mean?”

  He looked at me with a puzzled kind of sympathy. “You got all teary eyed. It was cute.” He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me gently into him. “See, it’s perfect, because then you need someone to cheer you up.” His arm around me felt good, and I smiled but didn’t say anything. Just let myself lean into him the slightest bit. He was warm and smelled like campfire smoke, and I rested my head on his shoulder the way you do with someone close to you.

  “Easy there, bro. She’s got a marine for a brother.”

  My breath caught in my throat, and I sat up lightning quick, despite the immediate sinking feeling in my chest. Wyatt laughed and raised his hands in surrender as Rusty walked over slowly from the dark to the now-dim circle of firelight. He was smiling a smile that put me on edge instantly. Don’t, I begged silently. Don’t say anything else.

  Casually, he kicked a pebble in front of him. “Yeah, if her brother saw some guy she’d just met with his arms around her, he’d put a boot in his ass.” He turned his eyes on me. “Ain’t that right, H?”

  I didn’t know what to say. The sympathy I’d felt for him a few minutes earlier went icy. I stared at him and hoped he could see it. Stop it.

  Wyatt spoke up. “No worries, man. We were just talking.”

  Rusty considered this, then sat down in the chair on the other side of Wyatt. Put a hand on his shoulder. “Good. Because her brother ain’t around anymore.”

  Hot, angry tears pooled at the corners of my eyes, and I sat, paralyzed. Wyatt looked over at me, confused. Rusty let go of him and sat back in his chair, shaking his head. “Nope. He ain’t around anymore, because he thought it’d be a good idea to sign up for the marines instead of playing football, and then he went and got himself blown up, probably for no reason at all.”

  “Rusty, stop.” I barely got it out. The anger in his voice had made my own shaky.

  He glanced at me, then back to the fire pit. “They put him in the ground yesterday, and now here we are.” He laughed bitterly. “What are we doing here again, Honor? Going to a concert? The day after his funeral?”

  “Shut up, Rusty.” I stood and wiped my eyes, and now there was no controlling my voice. Tears spilled over, down my cheeks, and I spat my words at him. “Shut the hell up!”

  Wyatt pushed his chair back slowly and stood between us, looking from me to Rusty. “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He put his hands out and turned to me, confusion and worry all over his face. “That really true?” he asked, tentative, like he didn’t really want to know. “About your brother?”

  I bit my bottom lip and looked down at the ground, not wanting to answer. Because no matter how many times I’d said it to people in the last two weeks, people I knew, I hadn’t really believed it. Even yesterday, at the funeral, I’d felt almost like an actor in a movie or something. But standing here, with Rusty throwing it in my face in front of a stranger sent a pain through me that was impossible to ignore. This was beyond forgivable.

  A long moment passed without any of us speaking. A log popped, sending a tiny explosion of embers into the air. I leveled my eyes at Rusty and hoped he could feel how much I hated him right then. “It’s true. My brother’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry,” Wyatt said softly. He reached for my hand, but I moved it away.

  Rusty snorted. “Well, now. Looks like I ruined the mood.” He straightened up and looked over at Wyatt. “I’m sorry, man. She’s all yours.” Then he held out my own car keys to me. “Here you go, H. I’m guessin’ I’ll be sleeping under the stars tonight.”

  I smacked them out of his hand, into the dirt. “Screw you, Rusty.”

  He nodded like he deserved it, turned his back, and walked into the darkness, toward the road.

  Wyatt waited until we couldn’t see him anymore, then he picked up my keys, handed them to me gingerly. “Uh . . . you wanna stay a little while longer?”

  I shook my head, on the verge of tears again.

  “How ’bout I walk you back over to your car, then?”

  I swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay.”

  We didn’t say anything as we ducked through the bushes, and when we stood next to the car I could tell he was searching, maybe for the right thing to say. But there wasn’t any right thing.

  I shifted the keys in my hands. “Thanks for walking me.”

  His face was warm but serious. “Of course.” He paused. “I know it’s not my business, but don’t let him make you feel bad. Everyone deals with stuff their own way, you know? I mean, that was a real shithead way to act, but you can tell he’s broken up about it too.” He smiled gently. “Anyway, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you being here.”

  Wyatt, who I’d met hours earlier, peeing in my campsite, had somehow said the exact right thing. The kind of thing Finn would have said right before he would have convinced me to do something fun to get my mind off it. “Thank you.” I sniffed. “I’m sorry about Rusty, he—”

  Wyatt waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. Come diving with us tomorrow. It’ll feel good to see the sunrise. Like a fresh start.” He gestured at the car. “I’ll knock on the window.”

  I curled my fingers under the handle and took a deep breath. “All right.” I meant to tell him thank you, but instead I dropped my hand, stood on tiptoe, and kissed his cheek.

  He smiled, then took a step back. “Good night, Honor.” Then he tipped his head, a small good night gesture that left me smiling myself.

  Inside the car, I crawled in the backseat, spread my sleeping bag over it, and lay down so I could still see the stars out the window. I thought of Rusty somewhere out in the dark, and I wanted to hate him for what he’d said. But part of me wondered if he was right—if it was wrong of me to be here on this trip, if going to the concert was just a way of running away. What in the world would I tell Kyra Kelley about my brother, anyway? And why would she care?

  I didn’t have the energy or the heart to answer any of it. Every bit of me felt weighted down and tired. In the end, I settled for locking the doors, ensuring Rusty would have a lonely, uncomfortable night. Where, I didn’t really care. Then I lay back and found Cygnus in the sky, watched his stars blink friendship and loss, honor and sacrifice, until all of it drifted off over the vastness of the desert.

  7

  A muted, repetitive thunk pulled at me from the other side of sleep. When I didn’t move, it persisted. I made an honest effort to lift my eyelids, but it felt like I had
only just closed them, and my mind fumbled for every possible reason to keep them that way: still dark, summertime, no school, nowhere I needed to be, no one who should be waking me up. . . .

  I rolled over, expecting to snuggle down into my covers, but consciousness came down on me hard when my face found the cool vinyl of the backseat. I was in the car. Finn’s car. At a campground in New Mexico, where Rusty had been awful and had walked off into the night and a boy I’d just met tried to make it better. But it wasn’t better. Finn was still gone and I was still alone, and the heaviness of those things made me want to seal my eyes closed with the ridiculous hope that if I went back to sleep, none of it would be true.

  The knocking stopped, but a loud whisper replaced it. “Honor! You awake?” Thunk, thunk. “If you still wanna dive, we’re going.” It was Wyatt’s voice outside the window. Wyatt, who had been sweet and kind, and who I’d kissed on the cheek when he walked me to the car.

  I let the last wisp of sleep slip away, then gave in and pushed myself up on the seat. I could see Wyatt’s smile in the window before he took a step back so I could open the door. I looked in the rearview mirror, which wasn’t much help in the dark, ran my fingers through my hair one quick time, pulled on my boots, and tried to put away the unsettled feeling that lingered from the night before. When I opened the door and breathed in the fresh smell of the dirt mingled with the crispness of the junipers and sage, it lifted ever so slightly.

  “Mornin’.” Wyatt stepped toward me and smiled. “You’re a hard sleeper. Either that or you were just hoping I’d go away if you ignored me for long enough.” He raised an eyebrow, then shoved his hands in his pockets and shivered a little. “You still wanna dive? Sam and Corrie are already over there getting the gear ready.”