I dialed and listened to the ringing. Mama loved to have people over. I pictured her out by the pool, maybe wearing her bathing suit with one of her short black cover-ups and high-heeled flip-flops, surrounded by lots of people, laughing. She might not even hear the phone ringing.
“Hello?”
“Mama?” I could hear splashing and people talking and laughing in the background. Mama was out by the pool. It was nice out there on summer nights. The air felt like velvet.
“Stephanie? Well, hey, Sugar.”
“Hey, Mama. I just wanted to call and say hello.”
“Well, hey yourself. We’re having some drinks and hors d’oeuvres out here by the pool. It’s such a pretty night. You having fun?”
“Yeah,” I said in a small voice.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. So, who’s there?”
“Matt is here, and he brought some friends from college and we’re just visiting. Everyone asked about you.”
“Tell Matt hey. Did anybody call me?”
“Oh, listen, the phone rang off the hook the first two days you were gone, all your little friends calling. Let’s see, Katie, Jessica, and Lindsay.”
“They did?” I felt warm and loved and really homesick all at the same time.
“I told them you’d be home Sunday. How are you and Daddy getting along?”
“Okay. He made me go riding.” I instantly felt like I was tattling on Daddy. I picked at a piece of carpet beside my leg and it started to come unraveled. I wondered if any of Matt’s friends were staying in my room.
“Don’t let him make you do anything you don’t want to do, Sugar. What about Lynn? Is she being sweet to you? And Diana?”
“Diana’s a spoiled brat,” I heard myself say. “Lynn’s okay. She’s not as pretty as you.” I felt heat rising to my face and knew I should stop myself saying this stuff, but for some reason I couldn’t. “Diana does wild stuff and tries to get me in trouble with her.”
“Is that right? She takes that mood medicine, and hasn’t she had some discipline problems? I’ve been worried about you spending time with her. Let me talk to your father,” Mama said. Then there was a loud splash and Mama squealed. “Hey, stop that! You got my invitations soakin’ wet!” But I could hear the laughter in her voice.
“No,” I said quickly. “Daddy’s busy right now, and I better go.”
“If you want me to call your daddy and straighten this out I will.”
“No, never mind, Mama, everything’s fine. I better go. Don’t call Daddy, okay? I really don’t want you to.”
“You’re sure, now?”
“Yeah. I’ll see you this weekend.”
“Okay, Sugar. We miss you.”
“Me, too.” When I hung up I felt even worse than I had before I called. A dozen carpet loops were popped loose in a line that led under my bed.
It sounded like everyone was really having fun out by the pool. If I was there I probably could have had Katie over and maybe Mama would take me shopping again. I was sitting on the floor, picking at the rug when Diana came back upstairs to get a sweatshirt.
I just couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“Why didn’t you at least ask me if I wanted to go in the truck?”
Diana threw her hands up at the ceiling. “I didn’t think you’d want to. They can only take one person, and it happened so fast.”
I glared at her. I had a terrible stomachache. I had not given up on friendship with Diana, and I had felt like I’d really made progress the night we’d let the wolves go. Even though what we’d done was wrong, there had been bonds formed between us. But now it was like friendship had these unwritten rules of loyalty, and Diana didn’t pay any attention to them. If you shared some really special experience, there was a bond between you. If someone told you a secret of theirs, you’d share one of yours. If someone did a nice thing for you, you tried to do something nice for them. I had a feeling if I did twenty nice things for Diana, it wouldn’t make a bit of difference. Why couldn’t Diana figure that stuff out? I wished I’d never followed her up the mountain.
“If I help get the wolves back, it will be like it never happened in the first place.”
I stared at Diana. “But it did happen. And what about me? What about our friendship?” Diana pulled the sweatshirt over her head. “What about it?”
Diana was acting like nothing at all had happened the other night! Normally if a snappy comeback popped into my head, I’d chicken out before I said it. Or, I came up with comebacks way too late, after people left the room or later that night lying in bed. But tonight, everything came spilling out. “You know what, I tried to be like a sister. I tried to be a friend. Daddy told me about your medicine and stuff, so I really, really tried. I mean, I covered up for you and everything. But no wonder you don’t have any friends. All you do is hurt people. No wonder everyone avoids you. No wonder your own daddy doesn’t answer your texts.”
Diana’s eyes got all glassy. “What are you talking about? You don’t know anything about my dad.”
“Yes, I do. Your mom told me you’d texted and called your dad but he hasn’t answered.”
“Mom has no idea how my dad feels and neither do you. And stop trying to steal my mom!”
“Steal your mom?”
“You’re always acting like you’re having these personal little conversations with her. You’re not! Okay? Butt out of my life!” She clattered down the stairs. The door slammed behind her. I heard Lynn call after her to be careful. Then I heard Lynn knock on Dad’s bedroom door and Daddy said “What?” in a mad voice.
Now look what had happened. Everybody was mad at everybody else.
19
DIANA
Doc’s old green pickup jounced over roots, sank over ruts, and ground over gravel. I was wedged in the jump seat beside Russell. Maggie and Doc sat up front. Tree limbs scraped the doors and poked through the open windows.
I thought about the fight with Stephanie and chewed my fingernail until a little bloody piece of cuticle came off. Where the heck would Stephanie sit, anyway? The four of us were already stuffed into the cab like sardines.
My thigh was touching Russell’s. When the truck went over ruts we sometimes jostled each other.
“How do you drive this thing? I mean, there’s not even a road,” I said to Doc as we bounced over a rock the size of a basketball.
“That’s why they call them all-terrain vehicles,” said Russell.
“Duh,” I said, making a face at him.
“This clearing is as far as I can take the truck,” Doc said. “We’ll have to go the rest of the way on foot.” He cut the engine. The truck was tilting at an angle. The door squeaked loudly as it fell open.
Maggie climbed out, tucking her gray braid under her hat. “Okay, Diana, lead us to the spot.”
Doc went around the back of the truck and got out the dart gun. He dropped a clear baggie with extra darts in the front pocket of his faded flannel shirt. The yellow feathery ends of the darts looked like canary tails. “Here’s the deal,” Doc said. “If we find them, and if I get a shot, it takes five to ten minutes for the anesthesia to take effect. And during that time Waya or Oginali could probably run three miles. So, Russell and Diana, have you got on your running shoes?”
“Yeah,” Russell said. His face looked excited. Expectant.
“But if you catch up to them, don’t get too close,” Doc said. “Once we shoot them there’s no telling what they’ll do. Lead on, Diana. Wasn’t there a Greek goddess of the hunt named Diana?”
“That’s right,” said Maggie. “Diana, the Huntress.”
I blushed. Diana the Huntress sounded pretty cool. Then I glanced at Russell, embarrassed. “Uh, whatever.” But I took long-legged steps through the woods and imagined myself with a golden bow over my shoulder. A quiver of arrows on my back.
I’d seen the wolves just before a dense copse of trees with pear-shaped leaves. If Stephanie hadn’t seen them too I might hav
e thought I’d just seen shadows. Actually Stephanie had seen them first. If she hadn’t seen them, I may not have seen them at all.
As I led the others uphill, I scanned the shifting bands of light slanting through the trees, weaving through tree trunks. Leaves swished as the four of us brushed by low-hanging limbs. Sticks on the ground popped and cracked as we zigzagged through the woods. A little brown rabbit raced away through underbrush, its white tail bobbing.
“Look, how cute,” I said to Russell.
“Lunch for Waya,” he said.
“Ugh!”
“I’m just saying. The nature of the beast.”
“That’s the truth,” Maggie said. “You can’t judge the wolves for being what they are. People have always laid this whole evil thing onto the wolves, and it’s totally a myth. Although, I do think that a lot of the old Cherokee stories give human characteristics to the wolves.”
“Yeah, like in that story about the two wolves fighting,” said Russell.
“What story?” I said.
“Tell it,” said Doc.
Maggie took a breath, then started telling the story. “An old Cherokee said that a fight was going on inside him, and it was between two wolves. One wolf was evil. He was anger, jealousy, and lies. The other wolf was good. He was kindness, generosity, and truth. The old man said that same fight between the two wolves is going on inside every person.”
I stopped and looked back at Maggie. “Which wolf wins?”
Maggie pointed to Russell. “He knows this story. He’s heard it before.”
I turned to Russell. “Which wolf wins?”
“The one you feed,” said Russell.
“The one you feed,” I repeated. I stopped and leaned my palm against a tree. The ridges of bark felt rough, and small pieces came off on my fingers. I knocked the bark from my hands, thinking about the wolves leaping to freedom in the cold moonlight. I replayed that awful cell phone conversation with Dad. I heard my own voice telling Stephanie to butt out of my life. Had I been feeding the wrong wolf? I blocked out everything else and let the sounds of wind swishing through the trees fill my mind. I decided Dr. Shrink’s Moronic Mood-o-Meter was a six, but if I concentrated and took slow breaths, I could make it go down to a five.
We continued walking, all the time my eyes searching, until some time later when I leaned against another tree. With the back of my wrist, I wiped sweat from the damp hairs at my temples. I looked up at the sun sinking behind the trees. The canopy of branches grew darker. Birds cackled and chortled around me, like kids in class after you’ve said something stupid. I yanked off my left shoe and shook out a stick the size of a chicken bone that had been digging into the sole of my foot.
How many miles had we covered, threading through tree trunks, climbing over rocks, tangled roots, and underbrush? Five? Ten? My ankle was killing me.
“Time’s running out,” Doc said.
“Let’s split up,” Maggie said. “Doc and I will head to the top of the ridge for one last loop. Russell, you and Diana meet back at the truck at sunset.
Russell agreed. I was too tired to do anything except nod. I watched Russell as he squatted at the base of a tree a few yards away.
I was pretty sure Russell had started wondering if I’d made up seeing the wolves. He probably thought I’d led them on a wild goose chase. What if I had? What if the shadows I’d seen in the woods had been only what Stephanie and I wanted to see? What if we had been hoping so much that we’d wished them into existence?
“That story Maggie told,” I said to Russell. “About the wolves.”
“Yeah?” Russell, who had been scanning the woods, cut his eyes at me and blinked. Would he forgive me if he knew I had let the wolves go?
“What that story means is that all of those evil and good qualities are inside each of us,” I said. “And the wolf that wins, or the qualities that win, are the ones that we feed? The ones we let grow?”
“I guess,” Russell said.
I thought about what Stephanie had said today. About me never being able to be a friend and about Dad not answering my texts. How could that be? He was my dad. He was supposed to love me no matter what. When I’d talked to him this morning it didn’t seem like he loved me at all. And Mom, she was always supposed to pick me. No matter what. But Stephanie was prettier, she was sweeter, she didn’t have to take pills to get through the day. Maybe Mom had already started liking her better.
I took a few deep breaths. I’d always thought that people just were who they were. But the Cherokee story made it sound like people had a choice.
Wolves didn’t—couldn’t—choose. When Stephanie and I put the log in their pen, the wolves had no choice but to leap to freedom and run away. It was their nature. Their instinct. When they got hungry, it was their nature and instinct to kill and eat that farmer’s chickens.
People aren’t animals. That’s what the Cherokee story was saying. We have a choice. I stopped at the river’s edge and grabbed onto a small twisted dogwood that arced over the water. “Russell,” I said.
“Yeah?”
“Would you ever move back with your dad? I mean, if you got mad at Maggie, or you couldn’t stand living there anymore?”
“I did go back there once.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. One time last year I went to this friend’s house and forgot to call Maggie and tell her where I was. We were playing basketball in his driveway with the floodlights on, and I lost track of time. So Maggie didn’t know where I was until like eleven o’clock. She grounded me for two weeks, and I thought that was outrageous, so I went to my dad’s. I was there like three days, and then I went back to Maggie’s.”
“Why’d you go back?”
“Dad’s cooking sucked. Just kidding. I don’t know. Ever since Mom died … sometimes I hate him.” There was a silence. “It’s like we remind each other.”
I let that sink in for a minute, nodding my head. A few minutes later, I headed through the woods again, leaving Russell leaning against the tree, squinting at me. The sun edged lower, mingling in the branches of the trees. The trunks of the pines were thick and straight, a deep chocolate brown, while the other trunks were slender and mottled gray. Leaves rustled and sticks snapped under my feet. A shadow moved across my eyes, and I looked up and saw the serrated boomerang shape of a buzzard wheeling just above the treetops. Ahead on the ground was a nondescript ripple in the landscape. A wilted hump of dead leaves. Or bedraggled gray rags. I stopped.
I narrowed my eyes and hurried closer. It wasn’t dead leaves. It moved slightly. My heart tightened into a knot.
Russell crashed through the underbrush behind me. I waved at him to be quiet. His footsteps stopped.
Now I could make out a gray snout and throat, a hooded head, powerful shoulder, rib cage, haunches, and tail. It was Waya. She was stretched on the ground.
I stepped closer and glanced around for Oginali but didn’t see her. Waya was panting. Something was wrong. I took one more step, and another.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I won’t hurt you.”
Waya’s ear moved, as if to say, “I hear you.” The panting stopped. Her rib cage rose up and down, ever so slightly.
I took a few steps closer. Russell moved past me, then began to talk softly to Waya. “Good girl, it’s just me, Russell. How’s the girl doing?”
Russell knelt beside her. He kept the soft talk going, a steady stream of comforting sounds. Waya opened her eye a tiny slit and closed it again. Her eye didn’t look golden anymore, but dull, as if everything had drained out. I watched the small movements of her rib cage. A matted spot on Waya’s shoulder looked dark and wet.
“Someone shot her,” Russell said in a low voice.
Waya’s rib cage stopped moving.
“Russell, she’s stopped breathing!” Hot tears sprang to my eyes, and Waya and the trees went out of focus. Waya was dying! Guilt hit me like a wave, breaking over my shoulders. “This is my fault,” I said.
/> “It’s not your fault,” said Russell. He didn’t even look up at me. He touched Waya’s flank with a steady, gentle hand. Waya whined, but it was faint, as if she were already going away.
“I’m the one who let her go!” Words and tears streamed out together. “Stephanie and I, three nights ago. We didn’t know this would happen. I would never hurt her on purpose, never in a million years.”
Now Russell did look at me. I never wanted to see a look like that again. And now Maggie would look at me like that, too. And Doc. And Norm. And even Mom.
“Go find Doc and Maggie,” Russell ordered. “I’ll stay here with her.”
I turned and ran.
20
STEPHANIE
Nick had been kneeling at the edge of the pond, baiting hooks on two bamboo poles with bologna. When I told him about the wolves, he stopped and stared at me with his mouth hanging open.
“You’re kidding!” Nick said. “Everyone’s been spending all this time looking for them and y’all haven’t said anything?”
“Stop looking at me like that!” I said, and I grabbed one of the poles. Without my usual caution, I tossed the bologna in the water, then watched the greasy quarter-sized rainbow that formed where the bologna sank. I’d thought it would be such a relief to tell someone, but I didn’t feel any better, the way he looked at me.
I wished I hadn’t said those things to Mama about Diana earlier tonight. I didn’t like what Mama said about Diana being on medicine and having problems and not wanting me to spend time with her. Mama didn’t even know Diana.
I threw a pebble in the pond and watched the widening circle of ripples move outward. I’d read in my science book this year that a tsunami was like a gigantic version of a pebble being thrown in a pond. Underwater earthquakes radiated energy that moved five hundred miles per hour through the water and crashed on beaches thousands of miles away.
“If we could just find them, everything would be okay.” This was exactly what Diana had said after dinner, and I hadn’t believed her, but now here I was saying it to Nick.
Summer of the Wolves Page 11
