by Gwen Cole
“So soon?” I say, still glancing around and trying to remember what has changed. Not a lot—just little things, like the place of his bed and the absent posters on the walls. It seems so bare now. With the door closed, I feel close to him.
“Well, yeah,” he says. “I tend to heal fast.”
I lean against his desk and shake my head. “Even though I’ve had a couple of days to process it, you being …”
“Not normal?” He only stares at the floor between his feet, his expression voided.
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“But it’s true.” Kale looks small sitting on the bed, and when he shrugs his shoulders, I really see how tired he is. Worn out. “I don’t ever remember being normal.”
“It’s not all that great.” I finger the books on his desk and the worn bookmarks protruding from them. Pencils stand up in the old mug with a chip, showing the white porcelain surrounded by green. Kale broke that mug when he was twelve. His mom was going to throw it out, but I had no idea he saved it from that fate. There’s so much that I don’t know about him, and I’m starting to realize it even more than before.
Pictures are tacked on a bulletin board above his desk. There’s a lot of us and Libby. My eyes linger on the ones of Kale and me, trying to remember what I was thinking and what I felt. It certainly wasn’t what I feel now, but maybe close.
A few of the pictures of Kale and Miles are only a couple years old.
“How long have you known Miles?”
“A few years now. He’s the only person in school who bothered to put up with me.”
“You said telling him about your time-traveling was a mistake. How come?”
He gives a small smile. “You really want to know?”
“Of course.”
“Well … we stayed late after baseball practice one evening. It was the start of the season last year and I wanted to get more pitches in before our first game. I don’t know—I think it might be because I worked up a sweat and couldn’t feel the cold coming on, but when we were done, we packed up our bags and started back toward the school. Suddenly it just hit me. I dropped my bag and couldn’t move, tried to stop it from happening. He knew something was up because I was starting to freak out that I was about to expose myself to him.”
He pauses, thinking about it.
I ask, “So what happened?”
He clears his throat and continues. “I told him, ‘Please don’t tell anyone.’ Then I was just gone. I ended up somewhere in the nineties so it was an easy year, but the whole time I was there, I couldn’t stop thinking about Miles and if he would ever talk to me again.”
“I guess he did—talk to you, I mean.”
Kale nods. “Oh yeah, I called him when I got back and he came right over with my baseball stuff I left behind, nonstop asking questions. Almost as much as you the other night.” Then he looks at me different and asks, “But what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Did you leave any friends behind when you left?”
I run my teeth over my bottom lip and shake my head. “No. Nobody worth mentioning, anyway. I had some friends in middle school, but things changed when we grew up. Well … I changed. I guess they didn’t like who I turned out to be.”
“I like who you turned out to be,” Kale murmurs. He stares a moment before shrugging. “I mean, I always have.”
I hear Bryce downstairs in the kitchen. Even so, the house still feels too quiet. “At least I’ll have a couple friends when I start the school year. It’s better than where I left off. Wish you were going to be there, though.”
“Wish I was, too,” he says, staring at the floor again, looking like he wants to say something else but doesn’t. He has that look a lot, like there are things he’s thinking but will never say. Not even to me.
“We’re still neighbors and we’ll see each other,” I tell him. The floor creaks underneath my feet when I move and sit down next to him. “Even if it means you’re my only source of a social life.”
“What social life?” Kale looks up, smiling wide enough so his dimple appears.
“Exactly.” My hearts pounds faster, my mouth dry. “But it’s different with you. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“I do.” There are bits of blue in his gray eyes, something I haven’t been close enough to see in a long time. “When I’m around you,” he says, “I don’t care if I ever see another person.”
My smile slowly disappears, too nervous to do anything but keep his gaze. The room is deafening, and the only thing I hear is something pounding against my chest.
For the shortest moment, I think Kale might kiss me. And it’s the scariest moment in my life. How can something that should be simple be so confusing and cause so much anxiety?
Downstairs, the door slams shut and Kale flinches and looks away. We hear a truck start up outside and the tires crunch down the gravel driveway. Five years ago, being alone in the house with Kale wouldn’t have meant a thing to me, but not now. Not when there’s nothing but air between us and my heart is telling me to do something reckless.
I can’t lie to myself and say he’s just my next-door neighbor. Not anymore.
“I should get home,” I hear myself say. “Uncle Jasper gets cranky when he doesn’t eat dinner and he won’t start without me.”
He nods, almost too quickly. “Okay.”
Once we’re out of his room and downstairs, it feels like whatever happened upstairs never did, and my heartbeat returns to normal once I get outside. The sun is just over the trees now, shining an orange-yellow light into the woods. Kale follows me out the door after slipping on his shoes.
“I thought Uncle Jasper gave you Aunt Holly’s old Rabbit,” he says, looking over to where his car sits alone.
“He did,” I say, “but I felt like walking. Driving point-four miles seems like a waste of gas when I have legs that work just fine.”
Kale groans. “You’re making me sound lazy.”
“And I’m making myself sound like I actually care about saving gas.”
He laughs once, glancing toward the woods. “Let me walk you home then. After all, it is my fault you had to come over here.”
“You don’t have to.” I look over, meeting his gaze.
“I want to. Come on.”
I follow Kale into the woods and along the narrow path we know so well. The birds fly between the trees, catching bugs in the evening light. When we come to the bend in the river, where there are no trees to filter the light, the sun shines down full, reflecting off the water and turning it into a mirror. I slow down, almost able to see to the bottom from how clear it is.
I feel Kale next to me, close enough to touch. But I don’t look at him, afraid I’ll lose my nerve. So instead, I ask, “Feel like going for a swim?”
“You really like swimming, don’t you?”
“You already know that. Come on, we’ll be quick.” I slip off my shoes and stuff my socks inside, acting before I change my mind. I’m not going to mess this up again. I’m not.
“Seriously, right now?”
Kale stares at me like he did last time. Like I’m joking. “Why not? Besides, we haven’t played Sinking Ship without Libby before, and without her here, maybe one of us will actually win.”
I take off my T-shirt, keeping my tank-top on.
“I don’t even remember how she did it,” he says. “I think she almost made me drown once from laughing so hard.”
“I don’t know either. But now we have the chance to see which of us is better.” When he still doesn’t make a move, I say, “Come on, Kale. I promise, this will be the last time I ask you.”
Kale lets out a quick breath, a sign of him giving in. “All right, fine.” He kicks off his shoes, leaving them next to mine, and slips his T-shirt off. I try not to stare at his chest and flat stomach, or the lines of his hips that disappear into his jeans. The bullet gaze is barely visible across his ribs. It’s hard to get used to this Kale. The one
who isn’t a boy anymore.
I step into the river, feeling the slippery stones under my feet and the cold water creeping up my skin. When I reach the middle where the water comes up to my neck, Kale is right behind me. We wade out in the middle, barely able to touch the bottom. There’s a large rock on the river bed, right beneath us. We don’t have to look down to know it’s there.
“Are you sure about this?” Kale asks, his dark hair splashing black against his face.
“I don’t know, but let’s do it before I change my mind.”
We both take deep breaths and sink down at the same time, grabbing hold of the rock at the bottom to keep us anchored.
The world underwater is a quiet one, one unlike any other. The sunlight shines through the water, right down to where we’re floating at the bottom with our hair pulled by the lazy current.
We were smiling on our way down, but now, the distractions from the top world are gone and the watchful eyes of the clouds are forgotten. Everything above us slowly fades until nothing is left. Down here, it’s only us. And something neither of us can ignore it any longer.
When he comes closer, I don’t feel the knot in my stomach like I did before—when we were in his room and I couldn’t think of anything except how hot the air felt and the lump in the mattress I sat on.
Here, nothing feels more right.
Here, I want to kiss him.
Kale pauses halfway, his eyes bright under the sun. We’re inches from each other with only the water between us, feeling thinner than the air. Even though my lungs burn, I can’t think of anything else but him.
He gives me one last, longing look, and the moment our lips touch, I never want us to part. A racing jolt sprints down my spine and through my stomach. Nothing I’ve ever felt before. Is this seriously happening right now?
It’s a small kiss, like he’s afraid to break whatever we have between us. Soft and careful, but something amazing. Saying more than words can describe. I want it to last forever.
I might drown down here, but I’ll drown happy.
Kale pulls away and I open my eyes again, not ever remembering closing them. My lungs burn for air with my heart pounding hard, but I don’t want to rise yet, almost afraid our secret world will keep our secrets with it. That once we break the surface, this will have never had happened. Like trying to remember dreams.
But when Kale finally lets go of the rock, I follow him up.
It truly is another world. I hear the breeze and river, and I can smell grass and everything that comes with summer. And whatever disappeared between us below the water is back, creating an invisible wall we can’t see around. I don’t know why it’s there, but I don’t want it. This awkwardness. It’s what I was afraid of.
Kale’s chin is level with the water, his eyes still staring with uncertainty.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“You don’t have to be,” I say, shaking my head once.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not something you should be sorry for.” I start for the shore, feeling nervous again, which is weird because it’s Kale, and I’m never nervous around him. I can still feel the trace of his lips on mine. Just thinking about it makes my face hot.
When I’m almost out of the water, Kale’s voice makes me pause.
“Harper?” He can’t be more than a foot behind me. “I was going to say, I’m sorry for not doing that sooner.” I turn around, and he gives me a cute, nervous smile. “Is that okay for me to say?”
“Yeah,” I nod, my heart still racing, “It’s more than okay.”
Because it is.
Kale lowers his eyes and walks past me onto the shore, pulling on his T-shirt. With his hair wet and away from his face, I notice a thin red line over his right eyebrow. “You can tell Uncle Jasper I can help him with the car tomorrow,” he says, not noticing me looking.
“How did you get that?” I ask, pointing above my own eye.
He hesitates and touches his forehead, like he forgot it was there. “Oh, I tripped on the rug in the hallway and nicked the table. It’s not as bad as it looks.” Once Kale pulls his shoes on, he takes a couple steps toward the direction of his house. “I should get back.”
Any other time, I wouldn’t want him to go. But with what just happened, I don’t know what to say or how to act around him. I think we both feel it. What do you say to someone after kissing them for the first time? Especially someone you’ve known your entire life.
“See you tomorrow?” I ask, because that’s all I can think of.
He nods once more. “Definitely.”
When Kale is gone and I’m left standing by myself, the truth of what happened is something I’m not able to ignore.
I kissed Kale Jackson.
And I think I want to do it again.
23.
Kale
For the first time in six months, I sleep through the night.
A dark, dreamless sleep.
I wake up in the morning and feel somewhat like myself again. The sun is already up, shining through the cracks in my broken blinds. But it’s late enough that Dad and Bryce are already gone for the day.
I don’t feel exhausted, and my muscles don’t ache like they have been. Then my heart pounds when I remember what happened last night at the river. I feel like I can’t breathe.
I push Harper from my mind for a moment so I can think straight.
It doesn’t work.
I grab some clean clothes and walk across the hall to take a shower, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The dark circles under my eyes are less prominent and my skin is less pale.
I forgot what rest feels like.
But I never thought I’d forget what happy feels like. Even though it’s a small sensation in my stomach right now, I still feel it. Slowly growing. A new plant that forgot the sun.
I can only hope it doesn’t go away too soon.
After taking a shower, I eat a real breakfast. Also something I haven’t done in a long time. I make myself eggs and toast, sure to clean up once I’m done.
The phone rings as I finish loading the dishwasher. It echoes through the hallway, one ring after another. I have no doubt it’s Libby again and I almost don’t answer it, not wanting to get in another fight.
I walk into the hallway and my hand pauses over the phone.
It rings once more and I pick it up.
“Hello?”
There’s a pause and I hear a door slam. “Kale?”
I recognize the voice and my lips turning up into a smile. “Miles?”
He says, “I wasn’t sure if you’d be home, but I guess it’s my lucky day.”
“Yeah, I’m still here.” I feel like I’ve said that a lot lately. “What’s going on?”
“Well, I know you wanted to throw some ball tonight, but I think I’ve got a better idea.”
“A better idea, or a different idea?” I ask. “There’s a difference.”
“Possibly the latter,” he says, and I can hear him smiling.
“Well what is it then?” I walk upstairs and grab my keys off the desk, pocketing them and grabbing my baseball cap. I take a long look at my sweatshirt hanging over my chair before deciding to leave it.
I don’t feel cold today.
Miles continues, “There’s a band playing in the city tonight, and Grace is friends with the lead singer, so she really wants to go. And she also wants Harper to come, too, so you have to make sure that happens, because whatever Grace wants—”
“—Grace gets,” I finish, nodding.
“So what do you say?”
I do want to go.
Probably more than anything right now. But tonight will be my fourth night here, and I haven’t made it that long in months. I feel fine. It’s like my countdown is on pause, at least for right now. But tomorrow feels like a long way off.
“Kale? You still there?”
“Yeah … and yeah, I’ll be there.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
I glance up at the old photos of me and Harper, feeling more anchored than ever before.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
I park next to Uncle Jasper’s truck and cut the engine.
The Rabbit isn’t parked in the driveway, meaning Harper isn’t here, which means I’ve put the moment off for a bit longer. It doesn’t make me feel any less nervous about seeing her.
I grab my hat from the passenger seat and put it on, swiping my hair away from my eyes. As I get out, I notice the dark clouds, which have been growing and getting darker on my way over here.
I’ve forgotten the last time it rained.
I only remember snow.
“You finally decide to show up?”
I turn to find Uncle Jasper standing in the doorway of the barn. Seeing him reminds me how our last conversation ended. It’s been haunting me for the last two days. Digging a hole deeper within me.
I should have called before now, or done something.
“If you’ll have me,” I say, staying planted where I am, wondering if he’s having doubts about asking me to help him.
I wouldn’t blame him if he did.
“You don’t even have to ask, kid.” He smiles shortly, then says, “I am sorry for what I said. I was out of line.”
“You were just telling the truth.” I walk around my car, burying my hands in my jean pockets. “You shouldn’t be sorry for that.”
“I’m not sorry for telling the truth,” he says. “I’m sorry for the way it hurt you to hear it.” He looks down and fidgets with an old starter that probably needs to be replaced.
I change the subject by pointing to the part in his hands. “Have you got a replacement for that yet?”
“Just came in yesterday.” He grins and tosses the lump of metal in the corner where others have been thrown in the past. “I could use your help if you’re up to it.”
“Always.”
Uncle Jasper gives me a weird look, his eyebrows drawn together. I feel like I’ve seen that look before, but I can’t recall when. “What’s up with you today?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. You seem different.”
“I got sleep last night, and actually ate breakfast this morning?” I suggest.
