by Rachel Coker
“Whoa.” Cliff lay on his stomach, watching the creatures in awe. “They’re baby frogs, right?”
“Right.” Frank switched off his flashlight. “But they don’t like the harsh light. Besides, it’s more fun to watch them swim in the dark anyway.”
We watched them in silence for a long time—all of us spread out on our stomachs. The way they sporadically darted back and forth, into the murky shadows and then back into the moonlight, was mesmerizing.
My head began to swim in circles too, bewitched by the moonlight and sweet evening scent. The woods felt heavy and peaceful around us. The whole world lay still.
“Hey,” Frank whispered after a while. “I think he fell asleep.” He nodded at Cliff, who was lying beside me with his face buried in his arms.
I nudged him with my elbow. “Cliff?”
He didn’t move; his breathing grew heavier.
Frank made a face. “Ah, let him sleep. I’ll carry him home later.”
My fingers messed with the little curls on Cliff’s neck just above his pajama collar. He would have slapped my hand away if he had been awake, but there are zero no-touching rules when you’re sound asleep. “He’s probably really tired.” I glanced up. “After all, it is twelve o’clock in the morning.”
“Mmm.” Frank watched him in silence for several seconds. I wanted to know what he was thinking, but I was afraid to ask.
Instead, I rolled up my sleeves and pressed my elbows into the cool dirt. With one finger, I drew a tic-tac-toe board in the soil. I glanced up at Frank. “You go first.”
He grinned, and drew a big O in the right corner.
I frowned. “You know you’re supposed to start every game in the middle square. It’s the best guarantee of winning.”
He shrugged. “I’ve won this way before.”
Okay. I rolled my eyes and drew an X in the center.
Frank whistled softly as he contemplated his next move. “Would you rather be rich or be famous?”
A smile crept across my face. “Neither. I’d rather be smart.”
He made a face and drew another O in the dirt. “That wasn’t an option.”
“Still. It was better than either of the alternatives.” I rested my chin in my cupped hands. “Would you rather be an astronaut or a doctor?”
“Um, a doctor.” He held up a hand. “But only a pet doctor. A veterinarian.”
“Oh, right.” I squished the cool dirt between my fingers, letting it cake under my nails. I could see Frank as a veterinarian. Actually, that sounded really great. He could do what he loved every day of his life—rescuing animals and taking care of them. And he would get paid for it.
Frank squinted at me in the darkness. “Would you rather be a character in a book or a movie?”
“Movie. But only if it’s a major hit and I could be played by a famous person.” Not that I really knew of that many famous people. But still.
He nodded. “Same.”
I pressed my lips together. The forest around us was quiet and still; the three of us seemed to be the only ones in the world.
I thought about Mrs. Greene and the chicken incident. About her talking about her life and how she met her husband, and how when he read to her, she knew what he was saying was true. I wondered if I would ever know anything to be true like that.
Frank was watching me and waiting. Oh, my turn. “Sorry,” I muttered, marking an X.
“What are you thinking?” he asked softly.
I sighed. “Would you rather die and not know where you’re going or live forever on earth with no hope of going anywhere at all?”
A frown crossed his face. He cleared his throat. “I’d never really thought about it. I guess when you’re eighteen it feels like you’ll be living forever anyway. Like it’ll be ages until you have to start worrying about that.”
“Yeah, I guess.” My head hurt just thinking about it. The world beyond ours seemed big and scary. If astronauts can’t see the end of it, just how big would a God and a heaven beyond it be?
Frank chuckled and drew his last O. “Three in a row. What did I tell you?”
I jolted to attention. Sure enough, three Os. I grinned sheepishly. “I just wasn’t paying attention.”
“Says the loser.”
He stared at the ground for a while, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Then he glanced up at me. “Can I ask you … I know this probably isn’t …” He took a quick breath and lowered his voice. “Is there something wrong with Cliff? I mean, everyone says he’s … Well, they say he’s crazy, and he certainly acts like no one else I know. I was just wondering …” A crease formed on his forehead. “I mean, have you taken him to any doctors or anything? To figure out what the problem is?”
I dropped my eyes. Why does everyone always seem to think he has a problem? Emotions flooded through me. Red-hot anger at someone thinking my brother was crazy, ice-cold sadness at the fact that people always recognized he was different and that was all that seemed to matter to them, and several other feelings that I couldn’t name. Confusion, I guess. And embarrassment.
The silence slowly built around us. I realized with a jolt that I hadn’t answered Frank’s question. I peeked up at him and opened my mouth to speak, but stopped when I saw his face, twisted in what looked like regret. He glanced down as my eyes met his and messed with the laces on his shoes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
I shook my head to stop him. “It’s okay.” I shrugged, folding my arms across my chest. “I don’t know what’s wrong with Cliff. We’ve never talked to any doctors. I guess Dad and Mama have always just kind of hoped he’d grow out of it. But he’s ten now, so I guess he won’t.”
Frank looked away. I exhaled, releasing all the tension in my body. The air felt welcoming and cool again. I tapped my fingers on my arms, looking down at Cliff’s sleeping head close by my knees. “The only thing I know for sure about Cliff is that he’s the most amazing and special person I know.”
Frank smiled softly. “I think you and Cliff are both very special.” He dipped his finger into the pond, drawing little circles in the water. “That’s why …” He paused. “That’s why I asked you both to come here tonight.” He looked up at me. “I’ve never shown this little pond to anyone before. I just like to come out here to be alone sometimes and to sit and think.” Another pause. “But tonight, when I came out here, it was all quiet and still and all the baby tadpoles were darting around and I couldn’t help but wish …” His voice grew husky. “Well, I suddenly wanted you both to be here too. I guess that seems silly.”
My eyes lowered. “I don’t think it seems silly at all.” It seemed nice. Really nice, actually. He was quiet again. I was quiet as well, and I could feel the silence stretching around us, wrapping us up into this big blanket of something that felt thick and tangible and real.
Maybe that’s what our friendship was. It was the feeling that we didn’t have to speak or explain. We could sit in the darkness and watch the tadpoles just as easily as we could lie out in the heat and breathe in the smell of peaches and gravel, all without saying a word.
I ran my fingertips through the cool water. The reflection of the crescent moon quivered on the surface of the pond.
“And look at this moonlight.” Frank smirked. “You look absolutely smashing, Scarlett.”
I laughed and inched myself closer to the water. “Dad has a Bing Crosby record I listen to sometimes. It has a song called ‘Moonlight Becomes You.’ Juli thinks it’s silly, but I’ve always believed that everything looks better by the light of the moon. Don’t you think?”
A crisp evening breeze fluttered the tips of my hair. I wrapped a curl around my finger and began to sing softly. “Moonlight becomes you; it goes with your hair. You certainly know the right thing to wear. Moonlight becomes you, I’m thrilled at the sight. And I could get so romantic tonight …” I trailed off, my face heating. Of all the ways to appear immature and childish, singing an old-fashioned song in a midnight grove is proba
bly at the top of the list. I cleared my throat. “I guess I have a sentimental attachment to old music. It’s just so much softer and happier, don’t you think?”
Frank didn’t answer. He was staring at my hair. It was loose and, I hoped, still falling around my shoulders in tousled waves.
Self-consciously, I brushed it out of my face. “I know, I know. I have really messy hair.” A half smile pulled at my lips.
He met my eyes with a grin. “You must have been a really cute kid, Scarlett.” His face suddenly grew serious, his eyes big and solemn. “Can I ask you one more question?”
“Shoot.” I tried to keep my smile loose, although I suddenly felt pinned under his stare.
Frank’s face turned serious. “This may sound kind of mean, but why don’t you have friends?” Seeing me tense, he leaned forward and grabbed my hand. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like … I just … you and Cliff are just so great, but no one seems to ever, you know, talk to you or anything. Why doesn’t everyone want to be close to you all the time? If they took the time …” He trailed off, and I was subconsciously aware that he was still holding my hand, even though he seemed to have forgotten about it. “I know you had some problems with Cliff when he was little. Is that it?”
I took a deep breath and shook my head slowly. “Cliff’s always been kind of strange. You remember that time in church when he was six and he stood up and recited the Pledge of Allegiance in the middle of the pastor’s prayer?”
Frank nodded, a smile growing on his face. I figured he’d remember that. It was kind of an infamous story.
“Everyone stared at him and started whispering. I wanted to … ..” I bit back my words; I remembered the hot anger that had boiled beneath my skin that day. “The next day at school, I punched Billy Winters in the face for calling Cliff an idiot. I got sent home with a warning from my teacher, and the next day when I came back, all the kids in my class were giving me the silent treatment. Turns out Billy’s little girlfriend, Amanda Berkley, had told all the girls that I was a freak and me and my brother were contaminated with germs.” I ran a hand over the ground and dug in my fingernails. “So I didn’t talk to them anymore, and they didn’t talk to me. Well, to either of us. Cliff and I did our classes separately and then sat together at lunch, recess, and the bus ride. We avoided everyone, and everyone acted like we didn’t exist.”
“Oh.” Frank breathed the word; it escaped from his lips like a half-silent sigh. “I do sort of remember that now that you mention it. But I was never avoiding you—on purpose, at least. I was just never brave enough to talk to you, or to Cliff. Besides, I was older, so there was this whole thing about not talking to younger kids or risking …” He lowered his gaze. “You know how it is in grade school.”
I did know how it was in grade school. I don’t know why I expected him to say anything differently or come up with some good excuse as to why he had avoided me. It’s not like it mattered now. “It’s okay.” I felt my chest deflate though. “I know how it is. That’s life.” I forced a fake smile.
Frank looked up and met my eyes. “No,” he said. “It was wrong of me. If I could go back, I would have talked to you that day when you punched Billy Winters. I would have talked to you every day for the past four years. I would have …” He trailed off, watching me. I could see the golden specks in his green eyes, half hidden under his thick eyelashes.
For a full three seconds, time froze. The air seemed to vibrate, humming some tune that I couldn’t quite hear. Every hair felt like it was standing up on edge under his gaze.
And then Frank climbed to his feet and brushed off his pants, and the moment was broken. The night was silent, except for the sound of crickets, and my heart had gone back to a relatively normal beat.
“Come on,” Frank muttered, lifting Cliff in his arms. He glanced at me. “It’s a good thing your brother’s so skinny.” He nodded for me to follow him and began heading back to the house.
I looked over my shoulder for one last glance of the soft moonlight filtered through the trees. Immature or not, I couldn’t help thinking that there never was a more beautiful night.
Car headlights blinded us as we walked up the driveway. For an instant, I froze, my heart beating. Have Mama and Dad been looking for us? Were they worried?
Juli hopped out of her car. An oversized jacket was wrapped around her thin shoulders. Probably Ziggy’s.
She looked the three of us over: me huddled in my sweater and pajamas, Cliff sound asleep, and Frank hauling him in his arms.
Frank reddened. “Hi, Juli.” His voice sounded hoarse.
“Hello.”
I doubted Juli knew Frank’s name, or even who he was. Even though he’d probably been in all of her classes since sixth grade. She knew absolutely nothing about him other than the fact he was standing on our doorstep at one in the morning with Cliff in his arms. Which probably didn’t impress her much, given her recent appraisal of our little brother.
“Um … So what have you been doing?” Frank stammered. With his free hand, he reached up to push the hair off his forehead.
Juli shrugged. “Not much.” She glanced at me out of the corner of her eyes as she shut her car door. “In fact, I’ve been in my room all evening, haven’t I, Scarlett? Sleeping all night.” She grinned. “Just like you have.”
My stomach churned. Blackmail, seriously? Juli was forcing me into lying about her whereabouts by threatening to tell mine?
I mumbled something like “Yeah, sure,” and motioned for Frank to put Cliff down. I wrapped my arm around Cliff’s shoulder. “I think I’ve got him now.” My eyes flickered up and caught Frank’s. “Thanks for coming. I had fun.”
“Yeah, me too.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and turned to leave.
“Oh, wait.” Juli’s voice startled us both. She wrapped her arms around herself and glanced at Frank. “Do you know anything about cars? Because my engine was making a weird sound, and I don’t really want the parents to know that I was driving it tonight.” She raised her eyebrows. “I just don’t think they’d be real understanding, you know?”
“Oh yeah, right.” Frank’s face was a whole new shade of red. He was shaking, probably with excitement over the prospect of getting to help the all-great-and-wonderful Juli with her car problems.
I made a face, unnoticed, and began dragging Cliff upstairs. I tucked him back into his bed and shut the door. My bedroom was empty. Juli must still be outside with Frank.
The blinds were wide open, letting in the moonlight. I crossed to the window and peered into the darkness.
Juli and Frank were standing by the car. Frank had his flashlight turned on and was looking under the hood. He laughed about something and shook his head before closing the hood and unrolling his sleeves. Juli looked embarrassed. She laughed too and ran a hand through her long hair. She gave Frank a little wave before disappearing inside. Frank stood staring after her for several seconds, flashlight in hand, before he turned and left.
The bedroom door opened a few minutes later, and Juli entered. “After all that, there was just something stuck under the hood.” She chuckled.
“Huh.” I pulled off my sweater and crawled back into bed. I didn’t want to look at Juli or listen to her stupid car problems. What did she say that made Frank laugh?
Juli slipped out of her long dress and pulled on an old nightgown. She didn’t seem intoxicated or distant. Traces of the old Juli were present in her smirking face, laughing at her own stupidity. “What was that guy’s name?”
“Frank,” I muttered into the sheets.
“Hmm.” Juli seemed to think this over. “He seemed … sweet. Good-looking too.” She bit her lip, pausing over her bed. “Have I met him before? His face seemed familiar, but I wasn’t really sure.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’ve been going to school with him since you were ten.”
“Really?” Juli’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, I thought I recognized him,” she said, climbing into bed and tucking the co
vers around herself. “Well, I guess he’s one thing to look forward to this summer. Can’t think of much else.” With that, she rolled over and fell silent.
I stared at the ceiling, imagining the swirling tadpoles and Cliff’s sleepy little curls and the look on Frank’s face when he said I must have been a cute kid.
“Scarlett?”
Without raising my head, I called back, “In the kitchen!” My hands flew as I diced the celery and carrots. Chicken pot pie. Yum.
Mama stuck her head in the doorway. “Grandpop Barley’s acting kind of strange. Do you think you could take him for a walk or something? Your father and I are going to a political meeting, and I have to get my hair ready.”
How can Grandpop Barley be acting “strange”? The very definition of Grandpop Barley is “strange.” Though I’d noticed he’d been especially prickly all day—and he didn’t have the excuse of getting too little sleep last night.
I wrinkled my nose. “Take him for a walk? He’s not a dog.”
Mama groaned. “Please, Scarlett.” Her long fingernails tapped on the doorway.
I looked down at the chopped vegetables in front of me. “What about supper?”
“I’ll finish it after I set my hair. It just has to go in the oven, right? Piece of cake.”
Chicken pot pie, actually, and it’s not even put together yet. It was no use fighting with Mama though. She had the will of a team of oxen, Dad often said.
“Fine.” I set down the knife and pulled off my apron. “Where is he?”
“Upstairs getting dressed. Your dad and I are leaving in thirty minutes. Come back when the pie is ready, and you three can eat. Heaven knows where Juli is.” Mama disappeared, leaving the residue of her lotioned hands on the door frame.
I climbed the stairs slowly, wondering where I was going to take Grandpop Barley. The only thing he hated more than baths was people, and people were everywhere these days. Sitting on their porches, playing in their yards, standing by their mailboxes … There was no way to avoid them.
