Song of the Fireflies
J.A. Redmerski
For Michael N. and Alexander D.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Read on for an extract from The Edge of Never
Read on for an extract from The Edge of Always
About the Author
Also by J. A. Redmerski
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter One
Elias
They say you never forget your first love, and I have to say that they are right. I met the girl of my dreams when we were both still fans of tree houses and dirt cakes—she made the best dirt cakes in Georgia—and today, seventeen years later, I still see her smile in everything good.
But Bray’s life has always been… complicated. Mine, well, I guess the same can be said for me, but as much as she and I are alike, there are just as many things that make us so very different.
I never thought that a relationship with her, other than being the best of friends, sometimes with benefits, could ever work. Neither did she. I guess in the beginning, we were both right. But by the end—and damn, the end sure as hell blindsided us—we were proven wrong. I admit a few dozen mistakes along the way are what led us here to this moment, holed up in the back of a convenience store with cops surrounding the building.
But wait. Let me start from the beginning.
Fourth of July—Seventeen Years Ago…
The kind of crush a nine-year-old boy has on an eight-year-old girl is almost always innocent. And cruel. The first time I saw Brayelle Bates flitting toward me through the wide-open field by Mr. Parson’s pond, she was marked my victim. She wore a white sundress and a pair of flip-flops with little purple flowers made of fabric sewn to the tops. Her long, dark hair had been pulled neatly into ponytails on each side of her head and tied with purple ribbons. I loved her. OK, so I didn’t really “love” her, but she sure was pretty.
So, naturally I gave her a hard time.
“What’s that on your face?” I asked, as she started to walk by.
She stopped and crossed her arms and looked down at me sitting on my blanket beside my mother, pursing her lips at me disapprovingly.
“There’s nothing on my face,” she said with a smirk.
“Yes there is.” I pointed up at her. “Right there. It’s really gross.”
Instinctively, she reached up and began touching her face all over with her fingertips. “Well, what is it? What does it look like?”
“It’s everywhere. And I told you it’s gross, that’s what it looks like.”
She propped both hands on her hips and chewed on the inside of her mouth. “You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not. Your whole face, it’s really ugly. You should go to the doctor and get that checked out.”
The tip of her flip-flop and her big toe jabbed me in the back of my hip.
“Owww! What was that for?” I reached around and rubbed the spot with my fingertips.
I noticed my mother shake her head at us, but she went back to her conversation with my aunt Janice.
Bray crossed her arms and snarled down at me. “If anyone out here is gross, it’s you. Your face looks just like my dog’s ass.”
Upon hearing that, my mom snapped her head around, and she glared at me as if I was the one who had just cursed.
I just shrugged.
Bray turned on her heel, sauntered away with her chin held high, and caught up with her parents, who were already many feet out ahead of her. I watched her go, the throbbing in my hip a reminder that if I was going to mess with that girl again, there would be more pain and abuse where that came from.
Of course, it only made me want to do it again.
As the pasture filled up with Athens’s residents, come to see the yearly fireworks display, I watched Bray do cartwheels in the grass with her friend. Every now and then I saw her look over at me, showing off and taunting me. She did get the best of me, after all, and it was only natural for her to gloat about it. I got bored fast sitting with my mom, especially since Bray seemed to be having so much fun over there.
“Where are you going, Elias?” my mom asked, as I got up from the blanket.
“Just right over there,” I said, pointing in Bray’s direction.
“OK, but please stay in my sight.”
I sighed and rolled my eyes; Mom was always worried I would get kidnapped or lost or hurt or wet or dirty or any number of things.
“I will,” I said and walked away.
I weaved my way through the few families sitting in the space between us in lawn chairs and on blankets, ice chests filled with beer and soda next to them, until I was standing in front of that abusive girl I couldn’t get enough of.
“You really shouldn’t do cartwheels in a dress, you know that, right?” I asked.
Bray’s mouth fell open. Her pale-skinned friend, Lissa, who had long, curly, white-blonde hair, and who I knew from school, smiled up at me. I think she liked me.
“I have shorts on under my dress thank-you-very-much,” Bray snapped. “Why were you looking, anyway?”
“I wasn’t looking, I just…”
Bray and Lissa burst into laughter.
My face flushed hot.
Bray had only just moved here from Atlanta a week ago, and it hadn’t taken long for her to fit in. Or rather to pretty much own the place as far as the kids went. She was the kind of girl so damn mean and intimidating and pretty that the other girls knew they had better befriend her or else end up her enemy. She wasn’t a bully; she just had this way about her that demanded respect.
“Want to go sit by the pond?” I asked. “The fireworks look cool reflected off the water.”
Bray shrugged. “I guess so.” Then she got to her feet; Lissa was already standing up, ready to go, before Bray had even made up her mind.
Lissa was a nice girl but clingy at times, and I admit I was the one who started a rumor about her being albino because of her white hair and sheet-white skin. I felt bad afterward. I hadn’t expected the whole school to call her that every single day. When Bray moved to town, she told a group of girls off on her first day for making fun of Lissa. Afterward, Lissa naturally clung to Bray like Velcro.
And just like that, as if I’d never called Bray ugly and she had never kicked me, we walked side by side toward the pond and sat together for the next two hours. My friend Mitchell joined us eventually, and the four of us lay on our backs on the grass and watched the fireworks explode in an array of colors in the clear black sky. And although Lissa and Mitchell were there with us, Bray and I carried on with each other as if we were alone. We lau
ghed at stupid jokes and made fun of people walking by. It was the best night of my life, and it was only just beginning.
Shortly after the fireworks ended and the darkness settled across the pasture again, most of the town had already packed up and gone home.
My mom found me with Bray, Lissa, and Mitchell.
“Time to go,” she said, standing over me.
Bray was lying next to me, her head pressed against the side of my shoulder. I hadn’t really noticed it much, but my mom sure did. I saw a look in her eye—upside down, since she was standing behind us, which made that look all the more scary—that I’d never seen before. I raised myself up from the grass and turned around to face her.
“Can’t I stay and hang out a while longer?”
“No, Elias, I have to work in the morning. It’s already late.” She gestured with her free hand for me to get up and follow.
Reluctantly, I did as I was told.
“Oh come on, please, Ms. Kline?” Mitchell said on the other side of me, looking goofy with a front tooth missing and a light brown mullet lying against the back of his T-shirt. “I’ll walk home with him.”
Mitchell was a year older than me, but I did not need him to walk me home. This made me mad, probably because it embarrassed me in front of Bray.
I glared at Mitchell, and he looked back at me with apologetic eyes.
“I’ll see you guys later,” I said.
I took the ice chest from my mom to relieve her of some of the load she was carrying, and I followed her through the pasture toward our truck parked along the dirt road. Aunt Janice waved good-bye and sputtered away in her old beat-up Corsica.
My mom went to bed right after we got home. She was the manager at a hotel and rarely got any time off. My dad lived in Savannah. They had divorced three years ago. But I had a great relationship with them both. I often stayed at my dad’s in the summer, except this year he had to go to Michigan for his job, so I was staying with my mom all summer for the first time since their divorce.
I think it was fate. Bray never would’ve ended up outside my bedroom window that night, tapping on the glass with the tip of her finger, if my dad hadn’t gone to Michigan. I wondered how she knew where I lived but I never asked, figuring Mitchell or Lissa must’ve told her.
“You’re already in bed?” Bray asked with mock disbelief as she looked up at me.
I raised the window the rest of the way, and the humid summer air rushed in past me.
“No. I’m just in my room. What are you doin’ out here?”
A sly little grin crept up on the edges of Bray’s lips. “Want to go swimming?” she asked.
“Swimming?”
“Yeah. Swimming.” She crossed her arms and cocked her head to one side. “Or are you too chicken to sneak out?”
“I’m not afraid to sneak out.”
Actually, I kind of am. If my mom catches me she’ll whip me with the fly swatter.
“Then come on,” she said, waving at me. “Prove it.”
A challenge. Fly swatter or not, I couldn’t back down from a challenge or she’d never let me live it down. She’d go to school and turn my friends against me. The whole town would think I was a chicken afraid of his mommy, and I’d grow up an outcast and never have a girlfriend. I’d end up homeless and die an old man living underneath a bridge—these are the things my mom told me would happen to me if I ever dropped out of school.
OK, so I was overthinking this whole sneaking-out thing.
I bit down on my bottom lip, thought about it for a moment. When I noticed Bray about to start running that mouth of hers again, I tossed one leg over the windowsill and hopped outside, landing in a smooth, crouched position, which I was quite proud of.
Bray grinned, grabbed my hand, and pulled me along with her away from my house.
Admittedly, I thought of the fly swatter all the way back to the pond in the pasture.
Chapter Two
Elias
Bray was so free-spirited, she didn’t seem to have a worry in the world. I noticed this about her the moment we reached the outskirts of the pasture and she broke away from me and ran out toward it. Her arms were raised high above her head, as if she was reaching for the stars. Her laughter was infectious, and I found myself laughing right along with her as I ran behind her. We jumped off the end of the little rickety dock and hit the water with a loud splash. She didn’t even stop to take off her flip-flops, nor I my shirt, beforehand.
We swam for a while, and I splashed her in the face every chance I got, until she finally had enough and swam back to the dock.
“Have you ever kissed a girl before?” Bray asked, taking me by surprise.
I glanced nervously at her to my left; we both moved our feet back and forth in the water.
“No. Have you?”
Her shoulder bumped against mine hard, and she giggled and made a horrible face at me.
“No way. I wouldn’t kiss a girl. Talk about gross.”
I laughed, too. Really, I didn’t realize what I had said until after she pointed it out; I was too blindsided by the kissing topic to notice. But I played it off smoothly as though I was just being weird.
“I’ve never kissed a boy,” she said.
There was an awkward bout of silence. Mostly the awkwardness was coming from me, I was sure. I swallowed and looked out at the calm water. Every now and then I heard a random firework pop off in the distance somewhere. And the song of crickets and frogs surrounded us.
Not knowing what to say, or if I was supposed to say anything at all, I finally added, “Why not?”
“Why not what?”
“Why haven’t you kissed a boy before?”
She looked at me suspiciously. “Why haven’t you kissed a girl before?”
I shrugged. “I dunno. I just haven’t.”
“Well, maybe you should.”
“Why?”
“I dunno.”
Silence. We stared out at the water together, both of us with our hands braced against the dock’s edge, our bodies slumped between our shoulders, our feet moving steadily in the water and pushing poetic ripples outward across the surface.
I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, right next to the corner of her mouth.
She blushed and smiled, and I knew my face must’ve been bright red, but I didn’t care and I didn’t regret it.
I wanted to do it again.
Next thing I knew, Bray jumped up from the dock and ran back out into the pasture.
“Fireflies!” she shouted.
I stood up and watched her run away from me beneath the dark star-filled sky and she grew smaller and smaller. Hundreds of little green-yellow dots of light blinked off and on out in the wide-open space.
“Come on, Elias!” Her voice carried my name on the wind.
I knew I’d never forget this night. I couldn’t have understood why back then, but something within me knew. I would never forget it.
I ran out after her.
“We should’ve brought a jar!” She kept reaching out her hands, trying to catch one of the fireflies, but she was always a second too late.
On my third try, I caught one and held it carefully in the hollow of both hands so that I wouldn’t crush it.
“Oh, you got one! Let me see!”
I held my hands out slowly and Bray looked inside the tiny opening between my thumb and index finger. Every few seconds my hand would light up with a dull glow and then fade again.
“So pretty,” she said, wide-eyed.
“Just like you,” I said, though I had no idea what made me say that. Out loud, anyway.
Bray just smiled at me and looked back down into my hand.
“OK, let it go,” she said. “I don’t want it to die.”
I opened my hands and held them up, but the firefly just stayed there crawling across the ball of my thumb. I leaned in to blow on it and its tiny black wings finally sprang to life and it flew away into the darkness.
Bray and I spe
nt the whole night in the field chasing the fireflies and laying on the grass, staring up at the stars. She told me all about her sister, Rian, and how she was a snob and was always mean to Bray. I told her about my parents, because I didn’t have any brothers or sisters. She said I was lucky. We talked forever, it seemed. We may have been young, but we connected deeply on that night. I knew we would be great friends, even better friends than Mitchell and I had been, and I had known him since first grade, when he had tried to con me out of my peach cup at lunch.
And before the night was over, we made a pact with each other that would later prove to see us through some very troubled times.
“Promise we’ll always be best friends,” Bray said, lying next to me. “No matter what. Even if you grow up ugly and I grow up mean.”
I laughed. “You’re already mean!”
She elbowed me.
“And you’re already ugly,” she said with a blush in her cheeks.
I gave in, though really I needed no convincing. “OK, I promise.”
We gazed back up at the stars; her fingers were interlaced and her hands rested on her belly.
I had no idea what I was getting into with Brayelle Bates. I didn’t know about such things when I was nine. I didn’t know. But I would never regret a moment with her. Never.
Bray and I were found early the following morning, fast asleep in the grass. We were awoken by three cops; Mr. Parson, who owned the land; and my frantic mother, who thought I had been kidnapped from my room, stuffed in a suitcase, and thrown on the side of a highway somewhere.
“Elias! Oh dear God, I thought you were gone!” She scooped me into her arms and squeezed me so tight I thought my eyeballs were going to burst out of the sockets. She pulled away, kissed me on the forehead, embarrassing the crap out of me, and then squeezed me again.
Bray’s mom and dad were there, too.
“Have you been out here all night with him?” Bray’s dad asked with a sharp edge in his voice.
My mom immediately went into defensive mode. She stood up the rest of the way with me and wrapped one arm around the front of me, pressing my head against her stomach.
“That daughter of yours,” my mom said, and already I was flinching before she finished, “she has a mouth on her. My son would never have snuck out unless he was influenced.”
Song of the Fireflies Page 1
