by Claire Luana
“She’s so cute,” Zoe whispers to me as we head into the bread aisle. “I hope I’m that cute when I’m old.”
“Are you kidding? Your grandma is adorable. You will totes be that cute,” I manage to reply, though my thoughts are mired in the mud of Ryan Kearney.
“Do you think we’ll still be friends when we’re old ladies?” Zoe asks.
“Without a doubt.” I give Zoe a sideways squeeze, and it seems to mollify her. She pulls out the list and takes charge, leaving me to push the cart. Somehow, it’s made it worse, meeting Ryan’s grandmother. Seeing how she regards him so fondly, her weathered hand lingering on his shoulder. He’s clearly her world, and by keeping secrets—Deputy Romano’s suspicions, my vision—I’m going to take that world away. I’d always thought Orion was the monster in my story—Orion and Zeus. But now I’m not so sure. Maybe all along, the monster has been me.
Chapter 26
We’re all crowded into Brandon’s SUV, our camping gear piled to the ceiling behind us. We’re only supposed to be gone for two nights, but it seems like we brought enough stuff for a week. Half of the back is filled with firewood. When Zoe and I suggested it might be overkill, Brandon and Ryan looked so outraged that we backed off. What is it with boys and fire?
Zoe and I met the guys in the Walmart parking lot, where we transferred our gear and left Zoe’s car. We couldn’t exactly have loaded our stuff directly into their car—not with our parents thinking this was strictly a Mer-Zo camping trip.
The day is bright and blue, and Ryan has found the ‘Road Trip’ mix on his Spotify app and is blasting it through the car’s speakers. Brandon is drumming the steering wheel and singing along, his voice unabashedly out of tune. Nice to find something the guy’s not perfect at. I should be feeling on top of the world. I love road trips—there’s something about the wind and the sun and the road that makes me feel so free. I love camping. I love Zoe. I…like…Ryan. My mind trips over the words. We’re headed to break the curse. This should be the best frickin’ day in my entire life. Yet I can’t untie the heavy knot in the pit of my stomach. Or banish the memory of Ryan’s booted feet sticking out from behind that pillar. Even if we are successful at breaking the curse, this trip will very likely end in tragedy. My mind flashes to the ride back…with just three of us. And even if I find some miraculous way to break the curse and save Ryan, what’s waiting for him? Deputy Romano’s face surfaces, his words echoing in my mind. A warrant to inspect Ryan’s truck. How long does it take to get a warrant?
I look out the window, glad my sunglasses shade the tears pooling in the corners of my eyes. The Fates have dropped me smackdab in the middle of a rock and a hard place. And I don’t have the first clue what to do.
I feel a poke in my side, and I turn. Zoe is raising an eyebrow at me in a what-the-hell-is-up-with-you look. I can’t keep secrets from her. She knows me too well.
I force a smile and give her the thumbs up. She scrunches her lips suspiciously, and I can tell that this is not over.
“I have a proposal.” Brandon looks at us through the rearview mirror. He’s wearing silver-mirrored aviators and a form-fitting T-shirt and I must say is looking pretty fine. How Zoe is keeping her cool right now is beyond me.
“Do tell,” Zoe replies.
“We each share our most hilarious camping story—and whoever gets the least laughs has to cook dinner.”
Ryan looks back with a crooked grin. “I thought the girls were handling dinner.”
“What a sexist thing to suggest, Mr. Kearney,” I say with outrage that is only half-faked. “I’ll have you know Zoe and I excel at all sorts of traditionally male tasks.”
“You are excellent kidnappers, which I do think of as a traditionally male task,” Ryan deadpans.
Brandon explodes in laughter in the driver’s seat, putting his fist out to give Ryan a fist bump.
“Har har,” I say. “Fine, Brandon, we’ll play. But, Ryan, I like my burgers medium well, all right? It’s important to get the consistency right.”
“Hope you build that fire right, then,” he shoots back. “It’s all about the even flame distribution.”
“Okay,” Brandon interjects. “Who wants to go first?”
“I will.” Zoe launches into a story about backpacking with her brother that I’ve heard before. “So this couple is coming up the mountain, and you can just tell they’re furious. They have this big white poodle trotting beside them—but it’s got this big ol’ smear of brown on its back. And the guy is just livid—he looks straight at Jason and me as we pass them, saying ‘our dog rolled in shit back there!’ And in his high-pitched voice, he goes, ‘And I think it was human shit!’ And we’re all sympathetic, like, ‘Who would do something like that…?’ but the second they get out of sight we look at each other and realize that the couple just passed the spot where Jason had, you know, done his business on the way up the trail.”
Ryan and Brandon are howling in the front. Leave it to a poop or fart story to bring a guy to tears. “So let me get this straight.” Brandon wipes the corner of his eyes. “The dog rolled in your brother’s shit, and then the people were complaining to you about it?”
“Yep.” Zoe nods, laughing.
Even though I’ve heard the story before, I’m still busting up. It feels good to laugh out loud, to release that tension.
Ryan’s phone rings and the sound resounds through the car. It’s hooked into the Bluetooth. “It’s Gran. Mind if I take it?”
“You do you, bro,” Brandon says.
Ryan looks over his shoulder at us and holds up a finger for silence. Zoe feigns zipping her lips. Ryan doesn’t want to have to explain to dear old grandma why there are female voices in the background.
Ryan hits the green button. “Hey, Gran. What’s up?”
“Ryan, where are you?” Gran’s shaky voice fills the car. She sounds distraught.
Ryan and Brandon exchange a look of alarm. “On the road.”
“You need to come home right now.”
“What?” Ryan sits up. “What happened?”
“Oh, Ryan.” She’s almost in tears. I realize what’s happened a split second before she says it. “There’s a sheriff’s deputy here. He has a warrant to search your truck.”
Silence falls over the car, thick and cloying as wet wool.
“What?” Ryan manages.
“They think you hit some poor girl. It’s a misunderstanding, I know it. Just get home right away.”
I can see Ryan’s jaw working, his fingers curling around his knees. “The keys are in my room. Let them take what they need. And I’m sorry, but I can’t come home yet. There’s something I have to do first.”
“Ryan—” she starts, but he punches the red button and the call drops out. The music resumes, a crowing acoustic rendition of Free Fallin’. And that’s just how I feel. Like my life is pinwheeling into empty air.
“Do you want to go back?” Brandon asks quietly.
Ryan shakes his head, his face stony. “This is my only shot at this. We keep going.”
Panther Meadow campground is the closest campground to the slopes of Mount Shasta, located at almost eight thousand feet of elevation. The sun is setting by the time we arrive, sending streaks of orange slanting through the tall firs. Though the campground is “walk in,” the path from the parking lot to the campsites isn’t too long. Half an hour later, we’ve schlepped all our stuff from the car and Ryan’s working on the fire while Brandon and Zoe manhandle together the huge tent Brandon brought. It feels good to be doing something—to replace the tense silence that permeated the rest of the drive. Apparently, we’ve all independently decided to pretend there isn’t a sheriff’s deputy searching Ryan’s vehicle as we speak. It’s fine by me. ’Cause I don’t know what the hell to say.
“It’s like camping with the King of Sheba.” I nod over my shoulder at the red nylon monstrosity as I pull food out of the cooler.
“I think Brandon’s family are like founding REI
members,” Ryan says. “They like their gear fancy and expensive.”
“Must be nice,” I mutter. My family has money, but my parents have still always bought my gear on clearance or secondhand. They always said I grew out of it too fast to spend a fortune on it.
“Yes, it is,” Ryan agrees.
I’m rearranging various items under the picnic table to put them out of the way when I come across two large rectangular cases. “What are these?”
“My bows.”
“You brought two?”
“Sibyll said we’d be facing off against boobytraps and stuff in there. I thought it would be good to be armed.”
“But why two?”
“One for Brandon.” Ryan blows on his little teepee of kindling and little flames whoosh to life.
I’ve been thinking about whether Brandon and Zoe will go into Olympus with us, and I have to say, I don’t like it. I lower my voice. “I don’t want them going in with us.”
Ryan looks up from the fire.
I crouch down, keeping my voice quiet. “It’s not their fight. I could never forgive myself if something happened to one of them in there. You and I will be reincarnated, but them? I think we should leave them behind.”
“They’ll never agree to stay behind,” Ryan protests. “I know Brandon. He won’t take no for an answer.”
“So we don’t let them know they’re staying behind. Until it’s too late.”
Ryan rubs his jaw, considering. And then he nods. “Agreed.”
Relief floods me. The thought of anything happening to Zoe had me wrapped in knots.
“Maybe I should take the other bow.”
Ryan blinks at me, pinning me with those ocean-blue eyes. “Meriah, this isn’t a sexist comment or anything, but I don’t know if you could shoot the bow. They’re challenging, and it takes a lot of upper body strength. The draw weight on these two bows is designed for a man. If I was going to start you out, I’d pick something lighter. “
I prickle. “There’s only one way to find out.”
“What do you mean?” He looks at me, suddenly on guard.
“Show me how to shoot it.”
“Mer…”
“Or are you not a good enough teacher?” I challenge him.
“It’s not about teaching.” He growls in frustration. “Fine.” He stretches to his feet, all lean and tall. He’s in green Carhartt pants, work boots, and a black T-shirt. He’s got a Cabela’s camo hat on. I’m not big into the hunter redneck look, but Ryan makes it look good.
He starts off through the forest, and I call after him. “Where are you going?”
“Going to make sure we don’t kill anyone,” he hollers back.
Oh. That’s smart.
A few minutes later Ryan tromps back through the trees. I guess the coast is clear. He hauls up one of the cases onto the table and unzips it. The compound bow inside is a complex killing device, all angles and wheels and strings. With it in his hand, he transforms from Ryan Kearney to something different. Older. It’s like I’m seeing double vision. This is Ryan—and Orion. He hands it to me and the vision clears. I shake off my unease.
The bow is heavy in my hands. Much heavier than I thought. Suddenly, this seems like a bad idea.
“Tell me what you do when you draw it.”
He sighs. He reaches around me and holds the bow steady while his other hand tilts my hand into position. He begins instructing me. Legs hip-distance apart, knees straight but easy. Shoulders angled slightly. Hand on grip at forty-five-degree angle, in contact with the fleshy part of the palm. Arrow resting in the arrow rest, wrist through a little loop that draws back the string. He smells of hay and pine needles and the glittering expanse of the night sky. I’m finding it hard to focus on the task before me with the heat of his body radiating into mine.
“Maybe I should just try pulling the string without an arrow,” I say, suddenly unsure.
“It’s not a good idea. We don’t want to risk dry firing the bow. It can damage it.” Ryan connects the little loop around my wrist to the back of the string. Everything is different than I expected. Automated. I don’t hold the arrow. I don’t even use my fingers to pull back the string. “Okay, now pull in a smooth motion, back towards your jaw,” he says. A knife is sounding preferable, but I’m too proud to admit I’m wrong.
I pull, and nothing happens. The force against me is strong. I pull again, summoning every bit of strength in my arm. The bowstring moves into position.
I let out a little squeal of delight.
“Good job,” Ryan says gruffly, taking my shoulders and angling me gently towards the tree we have decided is our target. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that Zoe and Brandon have finished setting up the tent and are watching.
“Now wrap your finger around the trigger, and when you’re ready, release.”
I breathe out, then pull the trigger. The arrow explodes from the bow and buries itself in the tree. I can’t believe it!
I turn to Ryan in disbelief. “I hit it!” He whoops and pulls me into a hug, swinging me around. I bury my face in the crook of his shoulder, never wanting to let go.
My feet touch the ground again, and he pulls back. His eyes are bright and seem to trace the contours of my face, my lips. I’m hyperaware of where his hand lingers on my hip. Mine lingers on his shoulder. Damn it, I want to kiss him.
Zoe and Brandon are clapping and cheering in the background, which shakes me out of my Ryan-induced daze.
“You’re a natural,” Ryan says. “Want to try again?”
“Hell no!” I hand the bow back to him like it’s a rattlesnake. I know it took all of my strength to pull that string once. I don’t think I could do it again.
Just like it will take all my strength to face whatever tomorrow brings.
Chapter 27
My mood grows darker as night falls, and not even s’mores are enough to cheer me up. I don’t want Ryan to die. The feel of his arms around me is burned into my memory, like brands on my skin. I’ve kissed two boys before—Billy McGregor in seventh grade, and my freshman crush, Adam Kowalski—and my memory of kissing either of them doesn’t even hold a candle to how alive I feel when Ryan is near.
I have a horrible thought. What if we’re soulmates and we were supposed to find each other in all of these lives, but my prejudices and distrust of him got in the way? I could have had fifty happy lifetimes…but instead… No. I reject the notion. The Fates wouldn’t be that kind. Even if Ryan is my soulmate, the Fates would have set us up to go down in a blaze of glory, Romeo and Juliet style, every lifetime. Probably all I missed out on was heartbreak.
Besides, I’m not even sure I believe in soulmates. Though reincarnate a girl enough times, and she might believe in just about anything.
I adjust in my sleeping bag, huffing, trying to get comfortable. There’s a pointy rock under me, which feels like the perfect metaphor for my life. We had a delish dinner that, despite the guys’ big talk, we all pitched in on, and then we sat around Ryan and Brandon’s bonfire talking until our toes and faces grew too warm and we had to move back. As much as I harped on the guys to conserve wood for a morning fire, I think they used most of it up. No one mentioned the call from Ryan’s grandma or the uncertain fate that awaits us tomorrow. It felt so much better to embrace the role of carefree teenager on illicit co-ed camping trip with swoonworthy crush.
“Mer,” Zoe whispers, turning in her sleeping bag to face me. Her cherubic face peeking out of her blue mummy bag is the only part of her I can see.
“What?”
“What’s up with you? You were quiet all night. Now you’re tossing and turning like a bucking bronco. Are you just worried about Deputy Romano or is it something else? You okay?”
I close my eyes briefly. No, I am not okay. I turn back to look over my shoulder to where Ryan and Brandon are sleeping a few feet away. Seriously, you could fit a small house inside this tent Brandon brought. They’re both asleep, their breathing even. If I don’t
tell someone, I think I might explode. I turn back and keep my voice low. “You know how Alcyone almost died in Corvallis? And I thought we’d foiled the curse?”
“Yeah…”
I shake my head, burying my face in the nylon of my sleeping bag for a moment. “I saw on the news later that night. She died suddenly.”
“Oh Mer—” Zoe begins, but Ryan interrupts her. “What?” He’s sitting straight up in his sleeping bag, his eyes gleaming balefully at me in the dark.
“Do you have like Superman hearing?” I ask in annoyance. Damn it. He wasn’t supposed to know. This will only make things worse.
Brandon stirs beside him. “Keep it down,” he mumbles. “Sleepytime.”
Ryan unzips his sleeping bag and gets out, stepping into his boots. He’s wearing red flannel pajama pants, a black hoodie, and a gray beanie. I wish I could tell you I’m focused enough to ignore how cute he looks in his pajamas. But alas, I am not that girl.
I unzip my sleeping bag as well, shivering as the cold air hits me. The temperature dropped significantly as soon as the sun went down. It’s only April, after all, and we’re at eight thousand feet. I slip my feet into my UGGs, grab my puffy jacket, and follow Ryan out into the night. The stars are a tapestry above us, the stretch of Orion dominating the velvet sky. He’s always been there, hasn’t he? Close enough to touch, yet impossibly distant. A fixture in my many lives that I’ve only just come to realize the importance of. Right when I’m going to lose him.
Ryan rounds on me when we reach the dark fire pit, his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie. My breath puffs before me like smoke, my nose tickling from the cold.
“So she died?” he asks. The heartbreak written on his face hits me like a punch to the gut. “I thought… How did you…?”
“I saw it on the news,” I say. “That night. I couldn’t sleep; my parents had it on. Some sort of complication.”
