I yanked away from her. My feet tangled in the blanket again, and I crashed to the floor. Adam’s hands were on me before I even registered what had happened, and he pulled me up. He’d always been steady and strong. So very alive.
I didn’t want to be there. Not anymore. Not with any of them.
I pushed my way past Adam, through the foyer, and bounced off the doorjamb as I made my way out the front door, stumbling down the porch steps to the walkway.
This time I didn’t make it far. Adam, again. He caught me.
I was spinning. The whole world was spinning. And I wondered if that’s how it had felt for Joey.
My breath exploded out of me as I hit the ground, Adam on top of me. Sticky prickles of grass and blinding sunlight invaded my senses, bringing me back to reality, sucking me under waves of pain.
Adam pressed his heaving chest into mine. Tears streamed from his eyes onto my cheeks, chin, and neck.
“Maggie,” he whispered, “he’s gone.”
I shook my head, straining against the tears that burned my own eyes.
Adam buried his face in my neck, his hot, heavy sobs drowning me.
I looked straight at the sun, the burning, spiraling sun, and hated every wave of its energy. If only it had hidden behind a thick batch of storm clouds today, we never would have gone to the gorge. If not for that faraway star, Joey would still be alive.
My father peeled Adam and me from the sticky ground, balancing us as we shuffled to the house. My mother was waiting with the quilt, and she draped it over me when I sat on the couch next to Adam. I watched my father go for the phone, pick it up, and dial. Then he disappeared into his office, his voice trailing behind him as someone answered on the other end of the line. I looked down and saw my knee poking through a gaping hole that sliced through the patches of fabric.
“Mom,” I said, sucking in a deep breath. “I ruined Grandma’s quilt.”
My mother patted the bare skin of my knee. “That can be fixed.”
Adam’s parents arrived less than fifteen minutes after my father called them. Twelve, to be exact. I knew because I’d been staring at the clock like it was the only tether still tying me to Joey, even if each second ticked me farther and farther away from the last moment I had had with him. My last moment with Joey. Nothing about that thought felt real.
“Adam! Oh, dear God, thank you.” Mrs. Meacham rushed to the couch and wrapped her arms around Adam, pulling him close. Mr. Meacham kneeled in front of them and hugged them together. “You’re okay?” Adam’s mother leaned back and looked Adam up and down.
“There’s blood,” Mr. Meacham said, gently gripping Adam’s arm and inspecting his skin.
“It’s not mine.” Adam rubbed at the spot and then quickly pulled his hand away.
“Oh, God.” Mrs. Meacham melted into the couch cushion, holding her hand to her heart, her brown curls quivering. “Joey. I feel like that boy is one of my own, you two have been friends for so long. I have no idea how Trisha and Mike are going to handle the news.”
I closed my eyes at the thought of Joey’s parents. I saw them in a hundred different ways all at once: playing cards at the dining room table, sitting together on the porch swing, reading on the back patio. Smiling. They were always smiling. Pressing my fingertips into my eyes, I erased their happy faces, groaning at the thought of them hearing the news. Would the police just knock on their door and tell them that their son had died?
“Mom.” Adam gripped my hand in his, pulling my fingers away from my eyes. “Can you not do that right now?”
“Oh.” Mrs. Meacham wiped tears from her face and sucked in a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just … Do they know yet? Has anyone called them?”
“We figured it would be best if we let the police handle that,” my father said. “Since we don’t know exactly what’s going on.”
“You told us they left the scene,” Mr. Meacham said. “Is that true?” Mr. Meacham looked from Adam to me and back again.
“Yeah,” Adam nodded, looking to the ground. “I had to … Maggie couldn’t stay, Dad. I had to get her out of there.”
“I just don’t understand how you could leave Joey—”
“I didn’t leave Joey, Dad.” Adam’s voice shook with anger. “There was nothing I could do for him. But Maggie needed my help.”
“Maggie was the only person on top of the cliff with Joey when it happened,” my father said. “She doesn’t remember anything. At least nothing significant. I think Adam was focused on getting her away as fast as he could, to keep her from seeing … anything.”
“It’s like I was losing her, too,” Adam whispered, squeezing my hand. I squeezed back and tugged away quickly, unsure why the action sent an electric jolt up my arm. “It scared me when she couldn’t remember, how she couldn’t answer any of my questions. I was afraid of what might happen if she stayed with him. Joey was so … still. And I knew he wouldn’t want her there.”
Adam’s words tripped me up. I remembered when he first found me in the woods. The vision was a quick flash, but his eyes came back to me, how the swirling currents of green were wild with something that ran much deeper than fear. Everything else had faded into a dark, shadowy nothing.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice soft. “For taking care of me.”
A silence that felt like a heavy weight blanketed the room, and I wished I’d just kept my mouth shut. I wondered if we were all thinking the same thing: Why didn’t anyone take care of Joey?
“You can’t recall anything, dear?” Mrs. Meacham’s voice was tinged with pleading. It made me want to scream.
I shook my head.
“She can remember some of the stuff that happened right before they climbed up the trail,” Adam said. “But nothing else.”
“I’m sure it’s the shock.” Mrs. Meacham looked at my mom and shook her head. “Nothing to worry about.”
“What about you?” Mr. Meacham tilted his head toward Adam. “What do you remember?”
Adam’s eyes flitted to me, and then quickly away. “Dad, now’s not the time to—”
“It’s fine.” I wasn’t sure if that was true or not, but I needed to find out. “I want to know, too.”
Adam sighed and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. He didn’t look at anyone, just the ground, as he started talking.
“We all saw Joey and Maggie when they got to the top of the cliff. They walked out to the edge, like always, to make sure the water was clear. Maggie looked a little pale, kind of freaked, and Joey was talking to her.”
I strained, trying to remember. What had Joey said? What had happened in those last minutes? No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t see Joey. Couldn’t remember one single word he had said.
“They turned, and we waited. Just like always. Then, a minute or two later, Joey flew over the edge. But that part wasn’t like always. He was kind of twisted, his fall was awkward.”
“What exactly do you mean by awkward?” Mr. Meacham asked.
“Off balance. His arms were spread out. Like he was trying to steady himself. But he couldn’t do it in time. And he hit the ledge.”
I pulled my legs to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, burying my face in the patches of old fabric that I’d pulled over my knees. Joey hit the ledge?
“His head.” Adam’s words were hoarse. Strained. “He hit the ledge with the side of his head. And then he was in the water. We all raced out to get him—everyone except Shannon, who grabbed a phone—and got him to the bank as fast as we could.”
What had I been doing? I asked myself. While my friends were trying to save my boyfriend’s life, where was I? Why hadn’t I scrambled down to help?
“When we realized there was nothing we could do, I climbed up to find Maggie. We’d been calling to her, but she hadn’t answered. I found her a good way from the cliff, hiding just off the trail. And when she said she didn’t remember anything, I panicked.”
As I listened to Adam’s shaking voice, I
wasn’t so sure if I ever wanted to remember. Remembering might make everything feel worse than it already did. And I wasn’t sure I could handle that.
“Were you drinking?” Adam’s father asked, his eyes tight.
“I don’t think now is the time to delve into all of that,” my father said.
“There is no better time.” Mr. Meacham shoved a hand in the pocket of his tan golf shorts. “The police will be asking the kids all kinds of questions in the very near future.”
My stomach dropped and the room started to spin. “I don’t want to talk to the police,” I said, tilting my head up from my knees even though I felt as if I might be sick.
“I don’t mean to sound harsh, Maggie, but you’re not going to have a choice.” Mr. Meacham pinched the bridge of his nose. “And the first thing they’re going to ask is why you two left the scene.”
Adam looked at me. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“We appreciate you taking care of our daughter,” my mother said to Adam, her voice soft, reassuring. “Don’t you two worry about anything. The police will ask a few questions and leave. They have to follow procedure. Nothing will come of it.”
I took a deep breath, hoping she was right. Hoping they would accept the fact that I didn’t remember anything. Because after hearing Adam’s version of what happened, I decided that I didn’t want to recall my own memories. No matter who wanted to know, I wasn’t about to try to sort through the jumble of flashes and put it all back together again. If it were up to me, I would erase every moment that happened after Joey kissed me on those rocks. If I could, I might even erase myself.
“If it’s all right with you, I’m going to take Maggie upstairs,” my mother said. “A nice warm shower and—”
“No!” I sat forward, looking right at Adam. “I want to stay with Adam.”
“I think it’s best if we take Adam home,” Mr. Meacham said.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Adam insisted.
My father cleared his throat. “What if we call the police? Making the first contact might be the smartest choice, letting them know we’re willing to help in any way we can. We could tell them they can stop by and speak to the kids together.”
I nodded. Anything to keep Adam from leaving. I felt like he was the only thing holding me together, and I was scared that if he was gone everything left of me would crumble into a fine dust.
“It might be a good idea.” Mrs. Meacham looked at her husband. “We don’t want them to think we’re hiding anything.”
“They’re not going to come here,” Mr. Meacham said. “They’ll want to question the kids at the station.”
“You watch entirely too much television, dear,” Mrs. Meacham said. “I’m sure, under the circumstances, they’ll be happy to come to the house.”
“I’ll call them now,” my father said.
I looked up at Adam’s face, at his shimmering eyes, and had an overwhelming need to touch him. To make sure he was real. Because nothing in my world felt real anymore. It all seemed like a dirty trick someone was playing to get back at me for something. Trouble was, I couldn’t figure out what.
I reached out and grabbed onto Adam’s wrist and felt the pulse of blood flowing through his body. He looked at my hand and then covered it with his own.
Holding on to him, staring at the frayed edges of the ripped quilt, I focused all of my fading energy on keeping that moment from turning into the next.
4
Hands Clasped Tight
“What are we gonna say?” I whispered as two uniformed police officers walked past the chairs where Adam and I were seated. It was a wide hall in the entry of the police station, the tiled floor a marbled gray and white that looked like it would be cold against the bottoms of my feet if I kicked off my flip-flops.
“What do you mean?” Adam looked at me, his eyes scrunched tight. The officers’ footsteps slammed against the walls, echoing like the gorge, vibrating my entire body. “We’re gonna tell the truth.”
I pressed myself against the straight back of the chair, trying to mold my body to the hard surface. “Right.”
“We don’t have anything to hide.” Adam’s foot, which had been tap-tap-tapping the floor nervously, suddenly stopped. He swiveled in his seat and leaned toward me, his eyes searching mine. “Do we?”
Adam’s hand gripped my knee, and I placed my hand over his, soaking in the warmth of his skin, reassured that he was sitting there next to me. Alive.
“Mags.” Adam ran a hand through the dried clumps of his sun-streaked hair. “If I should know something, now is the time to tell me. They’re gonna be done talking to our parents any minute, and—”
“There’s nothing more to say.” My bangs fell forward and I swiped them out of my eyes, blinking away the fear that had taken hold of me, and settled even deeper into the raw pain of Joey’s sudden absence. “I can’t remember anything.”
“You really can’t?” Adam pressed his lips together so tightly they disappeared. He quivered a little, and for a moment, he looked like the kindergarten version of himself, lost and alone, like he had when his mother dropped him off for his first day of school. I squeezed his hand, the way I had all those years ago when I’d led him to the reading corner to distract him from being left behind.
I closed my eyes, playing the day’s events along the backs of my lids like a silent movie. Driving in Tanna’s car, windows down, music blaring, watching Shannon’s hair whip, and dip, and flip all around her head in the crazy, rushing wind as she giggled about how Ronnie Booker had puked all over Gina Hanlon’s purse at the party we’d gone to the night before. Hiking up the trail from the parking lot to the Jumping Hole, the rush of a cool breeze against my skin. Feet running, pounding, crashing.
My eyes snapped open and I sucked in a deep breath. It felt like I was underwater, struggling to find my way to the surface.
“What?” Adam asked, his eyes wide. “Did you remember something?”
“Feet,” I said. “Running and—”
The door to the room where the detectives had taken our parents swung open with a loud click-swoosh, and the gruff voice of the detective, who reminded me of a gorilla, chased my found memory back into hiding.
All that was left was the fear. And the comfort of not knowing.
They filed out of the room in pairs, the two detectives, my mom and dad, Mr. and Mrs. Meacham. Our parents looked like deflated shells of their usual selves. I saw it in their eyes, the way their heads hung low, how their shoulders slumped with exhaustion, like two hours of this news was already too much for them to bear. If there was hope there, masked by the emotion that threatened to suck them under, I couldn’t find it.
When they saw us, their feet stuttered. Stopped.
The long, flowy skirt my mother wore swayed around her legs as if a strong wind had just drifted through. I heard a slight grunt escape Adam’s father’s lips.
The detectives just stared, taking us in.
Me.
Adam.
Our heads bowed together.
Hands clasped tight.
And the way we practically clung to each other like our individual survival depended on the connection.
It was as if they’d been able to forget reality for a moment, to place it in the dark corner of a high shelf while they dealt with the formalities. But seeing Adam and me shifted things, brought it all spilling down, nearly knocking them to the ground.
“We’re very sorry for your loss, Maggie.” Detective Wallace looked at me, creases wrinkling the loose skin on his face. “Your parents told us that you and Joey had been dating for the last two years.”
“Almost two years.” I pressed my fingers into my eyes, realizing they were leaking again. “Would have been two years this fall.”
My mother handed me a tissue, then placed a hand on my knee.
“We asked you here so you can help us piece together the events of the day. We need you to tell us everyt
hing you can about what led to Joey’s accident.” Detective Meyer shifted in his seat. His large body strained the chair beneath him, causing it to moan in protest.
I took in a shaky breath. “I can’t remember much,” I said, wishing they’d allowed Adam and me to be questioned together, wondering what they’d asked him while he was sitting at this very table with his own parents just ten minutes ago. We’d passed one another as he exited the interrogation room and I entered, his eyes saying a thousand things at once: be calm; that was brutal; you can do this; I hate these men. He’d grabbed my hand and given it a quick squeeze before the detectives rushed him along with a firm reminder that we were to be questioned separately. And now, without Adam by my side, I felt lost.
My father cleared his throat, and I realized I hadn’t really answered. “After the climb up the trail, everything just kind of disappears.”
Detective Wallace’s mouth twitched, the thick gray moustache on his upper lip looking like a caterpillar wiggling to free itself from a prison. “Your parents explained that already, Maggie. Occasionally, in the event of a trauma, a person will suffer from memory loss. You’ll probably begin to recall the day in bits and pieces. You can give us more information as it returns to you. For now, we would like for you to tell us what you do remember.”
I looked from one detective to the other, hating the way their eyes pierced my skin. “Okay.”
“Let’s start with the easy stuff.” Detective Meyer flipped through a small spiral notebook and tugged a pen from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “When did you arrive at the gorge?”
I looked at my father whose face somehow seemed ten years older than it had when he’d sat across the table from me earlier in the morning as we ate a blueberry pancake and bacon breakfast.
“It was a little after eleven,” I said. “We wanted to be all set up by noon, to get the best sun.”
“And when you say ‘we,’ who are you referring to?” Detective Wallace asked.
“Me, Tanna, Shannon, Pete, Adam, and … Joey.” My voice broke when I said his name.
One Moment Page 3
