They continued onward. Ivy was tiring, but didn’t want to say anything. Herron was maintaining a good pace. Ivy wouldn’t have known he was injured at all from how he pressed on. They flew for hours and eventually, Ivy noticed the sun was beginning to set.
She said to Herron, “It’s going to be dark soon. Shouldn’t we start to think about stopping?”
“You know,” Herron said, “if we keep on going, we could be there in another three hours or so. Do you think you can keep going?”
Ivy desperately wanted to say yes, she could. But she couldn’t. She looked down, ashamed, and shook her head.
“That’s okay. Come on, let’s head over to the grassy beach and we’ll camp there.”
“I’m sorry, Herron. I just can’t. I’m too tired.”
“It’s all right.”
They made their camp. Herron set up the heatstone and put the dinner on to cook. Ivy decided it was warm enough that she didn’t need her tent. She liked sleeping under the stars. She liked when Herron would identify constellations for her and tell her stories about them, legends about who they were supposed to be, what parts of their lives the stars were supposed to influence. She still thought he was kind of a know-it-all, but she really did enjoy listening to the things he had to say.
He was quiet that evening, though, and she was tired enough that she didn’t engage him in much conversation, either.
“Is it safe to swim in this water?” Ivy asked.
“Here? Yes.”
“I’m achy and sweaty and I would love a nice, warm bath, but a swim is good enough.” She flew down to the shore and stripped down to her underclothes, then flew over the water and dipped a toe in. “Oh, it’s cold!”
Herron grinned at her.
She took a deep breath and plunged into the water, then bobbed up a moment later and shrieked. “It’s really cold!”
Herron laughed.
Ivy swam around for a bit, definitely not feeling sweaty any longer. Then she leaped out of the water and beat her wings hard, drying them off and getting some lift. She twirled around quickly, shedding some of the water. She flew back to the beach and collected her clothes, then flittered over to the camp.
“Make sure you dry off before you get into your bedroll,” Herron told her, watching her.
Ivy’s underclothes were filmy and translucent now, adhering closely to every curve of her body that they covered. They’d been traveling together for days and days now, and there isn’t a lot of privacy to be had on the road, but she thought she felt him watching her now more intently than he’d ever done before. Every time she turned to look at him, he turned out not to be looking at her. She decided she must have been imagining it, dried off, changed into clean clothes, and climbed into her bedroll.
Herron was still talking about the stars when she fell asleep.
-
Halfway through the next day, Herron pointed to the left shore, toward The Plateau. “Over here,” he said.
They flew over to the rocky bank and touched down. Behind Ivy was The River, and in front of her was the great wasteland of The Plateau. It stretched on and on in front of her and to the left. To the right, though, the gray, stony flat land abruptly gave way to a white, snowy plain. There were pine trees encased in shining ice, with snow blown across one side. There were no footprints to be seen, but Ivy could see a pine forest in the distance, leading up to a stony gray mountain. It was beautiful.
“We’re here,” said Herron.
chapter 23
“Wow. I can’t believe he hit you,” Gen said.
“That wasn’t the worst part of it,” Jim said. “It was the whole, ‘your mom wanted you and I wish you’d never been born,’ part. I mean, that wasn’t exactly how it went but that’s kind of the gist of it.”
Gen shook her head in disbelief, then rubbed Jim’s back. They had picked a different spot for a treat after school today, skipping the, in Gen’s opinion, much better custard place for the much crappier Dairy Queen. But at least it wasn’t near the hotel.
“He bought me a new computer.”
“What? Again?”
“Yeah. Every time he gets called out for being a terrible parent, he buys me something. It’s an awesome computer, though: a Commodore Amiga 2000!”
“Another Commodore? Don’t you already have one of those?”
“I have a Commodore 64. It’s a whole different machine from the Amiga. The Amiga is more like the Apple Mac. It’s amazing. It’s even got expandable architecture. That means that you can upgrade the parts that it came with when they make faster, better parts. I was reading about it in Info Magazine and they said that it wouldn’t be obsolete until the turn of the century! Can you imagine that?”
Gen shrugged. She had no idea, but she loved listening to Jim talk when he was excited.
“It’s pretty amazing. I wanted one since the last generation came out, but they’re pretty expensive.”
“So you forgive him, then?” Gen asked.
Jim sighed. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess. What can I do? It won’t make him talk to me. If I’d have left it in the box, it would still just be sitting in the box. He doesn’t care whether I would protest by not opening it. I don’t think he does, anyway. Or maybe he would just take it back without telling me if I left it. I really don’t know, but I can’t imagine it would result in him actually speaking to me.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter,” Gen said. “Parents aren’t supposed to do this to their children! You should come and have dinner with us tonight.”
Jim looked at her, surprised.
“Let me call my mom and make sure it’s okay.” She stood up and walked all the way back to the building to the pay phone, then stuck her hands in her pockets, fished around, and walked all the way back to Jim and said, “I don’t have any change!”
Jim smiled at her and gave her a quarter.
“Thanks!” Gen kissed him - a quick smack on the lips. He loved how affectionate she was. He was quickly becoming more comfortable with all the PDA, she was just so free with her affection. He liked her a lot.
She rushed back to the pay phone and made her call.
Jim watched the traffic go by. Every so often, an interesting car or motorcycle would pass by and he would follow its path with his eyes. He sat on the bench on the sidewalk and enjoyed the weather and the traffic-watching and finished his Blizzard. He got up to throw the empty container away, then realized his hands were sticky. He wasn’t about to go licking his hands, so he waited for Gen to get back. He didn’t want to leave their bikes sitting by themselves.
After a minute, Gen returned and said, “It’s all set! You can come over for dinner tonight. We’re having lasagna! There will be plenty,” she said, mimicking her mom’s voice.
Jim said, “Wow, thanks. That’ll be fun. And I get to spend some more time with you, right? I don’t like heating up my own dinner every night in the microwave and eating alone. I miss having a real dinner.”
Gen hugged Jim tightly. He didn’t put his arms all the way around her. “What’s the matter?” She asked.
“My hands are all sticky from the ice cream.”
“Hmm, let me see.” She took his right hand in hers and brought it close to her face to look at it. She could smell the vanilla on his fingers. She looked him in the eye and grinned at him, then took his fingers one at a time into her mouth to suck them clean. Jim gaped at her, shocked.
She slid the final finger from her lips and he shivered.
“Uh, wow, I… uh…”
Gen winked at him. “Don’t mention it.”
“Hey, um, we haven’t really talked too much about… stuff… Are you still… I mean, have you ever…?”
“A virgin?” Gen said. “Yeah. I do not want to get pregnant. I’m not going to get trapped into being a young mother. I just can’t do that. I’m going to finish high school and go to college and I’m going to have a proper
career. I’m not going to let anything stop me.” She looked at him. “And I’m guessing that since you’ve kind of hid away for such a long time, that you are, too.”
“Yeah,” Jim said, embarrassed.
“Well, there’s lots we can do without doing that,” Gen said, giving him a sly smile.
Jim’s face flushed crimson.
“Speaking of which, the fall dance is next week.”
“Oh, uh, yeah,” said Jim. “Did you, like, want to go?”
“That’s not how you ask a girl to a dance,” she laughed. “You have to get down on one knee and have proper posture and be formal.”
Jim’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and then he started to kneel.
“No, no,” Gen laughed, stopping him. “I was only teasing. You don’t have to kneel or anything. Jeez. You’d think you never asked a girl out before.”
“Actually, I kind of haven’t. I mean, you did most of the asking and the directing here.”
“Hmm,” Gen said, thinking about that. “I guess you’re right. Well, when you know what you want, you gotta go get it, right? And what I wanted was to be with you.”
Jim’s face remained dark red.
“So are you going to ask me?”
She didn’t think his face could get redder, but it did.
“Would you like to go to the dance with me?” he asked.
“Of course I would!” She leaped into his arms. “How exciting. Our first big high school dance!” She pulled away and took Jim’s hand. “And thank goodness, too, because stupid Charlie Wilson asked me.”
Jim looked at her, surprised. “Charlie Wilson? What did you say?”
“I said that I had to check with my boyfriend,” Gen giggled. “My boyfriend!”
“What did he do?”
“He started babbling and said he was late to something, then he ran away!”
Jim chuckled. “Huh. Boyfriend. Charlie Wilson.”
“Yeah. Charlie can suck it. I want to go with you.”
Jim looked at her and said, “You’re pretty.”
Gen hugged him again. She rested her cheek against his shoulder. “You are, too.”
-
Jim kept refusing the third helping of lasagna that Gen’s mom insisted that he take. Finally, he stopped arguing and let her put it on his plate, but he was too full to eat any of it.
Gabrielle Summers was a very welcoming hostess, and a fantastic cook. Jim hadn’t had a dinner this good in… Well, probably since his birthday, he realized. “I’m really grateful for you having me over, Mrs. Summers,” he said. He looked over at Gen’s dad. “And Mr. Summers.”
“Don’t mention it,” Gen’s dad said.
“Of course, any time at all, any time you want,” Gen’s mom said. “It’s not good for a boy to be locked away in that big old house all by yourself all the time. You’re like Rapunzel. You need to get out and see people. You can come over any time you want.” She looked at the empty seats around the table. “After all, George and Greg aren’t here and I don’t know how to cook for only the three of us!”
Jim laughed. “Okay. I’ll think about that.”
Gen’s dad leaned slightly toward Jim. “Gen mentioned that you are taking her to the dance at school.”
“Uh, yes, Mr. Summers. I mean, if that’s okay.”
Geoff held Jim’s gaze for a long moment. Gabrielle scolded him, “Geoffrey.”
“No hanky panky. No drinking. No drugs. No smoking. And you have her home by eleven. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Then Gen’s dad turned away from Jim and focused his attention back on the television and his food.
“Don’t mind him,” Gen’s mom said. “Do what he says, definitely, but don’t let him scare you.”
Jim looked at Gen, who was sitting at the table with her forehead in her hand, shaking her head slightly. She looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back.
-
Gen’s mom dropped them off at the school on the night of the dance. “I’ll head home, so just call when you are ready for me to come and pick you up. I love you, Genny!”
Gen tried not to groan and almost managed it. “Okay, mom, I love you, too.” Then she opened the door of the car, took Jim’s hand and they slid out. Gen closed the door and her mom drove off, then Gen fixed Jim’s tie.
“You look marvelous,” she said, imitating Billy Crystal. They held hands and walked into the school. “Ugh,” she groaned as soon as the opened the door and “Take My Breath Away” by Berlin was playing.
“This is an okay song,” Jim said. “It’s from Top Gun!”
“Yeah. I know.” They stopped at the table outside the gym and paid their four dollars, then went into the darkened gym. There were streamers in orange, yellow, and red, and a DJ booth along the far wall. There were kids swaying back and forth to the slow music.
“What do you wanna do?” Gen asked Jim.
“Do you want to dance?”
“Sure.” She took Jim’s hand and led him to an empty spot on the dance floor. He put his hands on her waist, she put her hands on his shoulders, and they swayed back and forth until the song was over. Psychedelic Furs’ “Pretty in Pink” came on next, and Gen said, “This is a good song!”
“I guess it’s all right, but I don’t know how to dance to it,” Jim said.
“You just take my hand and move your hips a little!” She watched him and laughed. “And your feet, too!”
He tried to move with Gen to the music but he felt ridiculous and self-conscious.
“Oh, don’t worry,” she said. “Nobody is judging you, and, seriously, look around at everyone else. Nobody knows what they’re doing!”
Jim looked around, then shrugged and kept on doing what Gen was trying to get him to do. She was right – nothing anybody else was doing looked much different from how they were dancing.
When that song ended, Gen led Jim to one of the empty tables set up on the outside of the dance floor. They sat down and were quickly joined by Mark West and Judy Kemp, two other freshmen they’d gone through eighth grade with. Gen and Judy used to be friendly, but had dropped out of touch.
They chitchatted for a while. Mark and Judy told Jim it was so nice to see him out again, and they hoped he was doing better now. Gen was proud of Jim for handling it so graciously. The music changed again.
“Oh!” Gen yanked Jim to his feet. “The Housemartins! I love this song!” And she pulled him back to the dance floor.
She danced with Jim, singing along, “It’s happy hour again!”
When the song ended, she clapped. “Who’s DJing this? I wouldn’t’ve expected to hear that here. Nobody knows music like this. They only want stupid Rick Astley and Tiffany.”
They walked over to the DJ booth and saw Kevin O’Donnell running the music.
“That was a great song!” Jen shouted to him.
“It’s the Housemartins,” Kevin shouted back.
“I know!”
Gen made Jim dance with her for an hour, they talked to Gen’s friends for a while, then around nine o’clock, she led him outside. They sat on the far end of the steps that led up to one of the side entrances to the school. It was locked from the outside, so to get back in they’d have to walk all the way back around to the gym entrance again.
“Thank you for taking me to the dance. I know you still get uncomfortable, but it’s good for you, and I really wanted to go.”
“You’re welcome,” Jim said, holding her hand and looking at the sky. With the bright lights in the football field of the school, it was hard to see any stars.
“You really should feel more comfortable kissing me on your own,” Gen said.
“I never know when is a good time.”
“Do you want to kiss me?”
“God, yes.”
“Then it’s a good time,” she said.
He leaned in and they kissed, and they kept kissing and making out until Gen’s watch beeped. She gently pulled away and looked
at it. “It’s ten,” she said. “We should probably call my mom soon.”
“Yeah,” Jim said, and they started making out again.
-
Gen’s mom came back to pick them up and went back into the house, leaving them in the driveway together.
“Thank you, that was a really fun time,” Gen said.
“Thank you, too,” Jim said. “I never would have gone if it wasn’t for you. I never would have done any of this. He looked up at his bedroom window. I would just be in there, by myself, depressed that since you were out having a good time at the dance that I couldn’t talk to you on the phone.”
Gen kissed him again. “Well, that doesn’t have to happen anymore. Why don’t you walk me to the door?”
“Okay.”
Jim took her hand and walked her up the porch steps to her door. He leaned in to kiss her again when the porch light flicked on and the door opened. Gen’s dad was standing in the doorway.
“Hi, daddy,” Gen said. “Jimmy was just saying good night.”
“I see that,” her dad said. “Good night, Jim.”
Gen grinned at Jim and hugged him tight. “Good night, Jimmy.”
Jim turned his head and kissed her very deliberately on the cheek. “Good night, Genny-with-a-G. And good night, Mr. Summers. Thank you for letting me take Gen to the dance.”
Geoff Summers nodded at Jim, opened the screen door for Gen, then closed the door behind her.
Jim sighed happily and walked across the street. It was eleven o’clock on Friday night and the driveway was still empty. He went in the house and opened the door to the garage. He looked at his mom’s car under its dusty cover.
He stepped into the garage. “It’s like a tomb in here,” he said aloud.
He pulled the cover off of the old Mustang convertible. The tires were flat. The battery was dead. The black paint and gold stripes were rough and faded. Jim opened the door and slid into the driver seat.
His mom had bought this car before he was born. It had been a rental car before she bought it. She used to joke that even among her very large circle of friends, this car was the best woman in her life. She always told him that he needed to take care of the women in his life so they were never “driven hard and put away wet” like her car had been before she got it.
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