Dad. I skirted the edge of campus,
easing my way slowly down the street, watching for the car.
I kept moving until I could see the main gate that Reid had been pointing out. Smaller
and single arched, but smack dead in the middle of the school. From here to the gate,
no car. And beyond, as far as I could see, no car. I squinted, straining to differentiate
the shades of green on the shoulder of the road. The sun had sunk below the tree line,
and the shadows loomed again. I tiptoed down the road, the noises from campus getting
farther away, and eventually darted to the other side of the street, where I was sure
I’d seen the car.
Weeds tickled my calves and the backs of my knees as I made my way through the underbrush.
Nothing. I turned around to go back, wondering if I had imagined it all, if my brain
put it in my head — like how I’d see Brian’s shadow against my furniture in the dark. And then I stepped
into a hole. A flattening of weeds. And beside it, another. And ahead, two more. The
indentations from the tires of a car.
I whipped my head over my shoulder and stared into the trees — no, into the forest. I closed my eyes and listened for sounds from a car. The shadows
stretched farther, crisscrossing the street, making the gate to Monroe contort backward,
concave, like a spoon. I swatted at a mosquito on the back of my arm. And then the
first firefly of the evening flashed in front of me. Light on. Light off. Here and
not here. Like a signal to the rest, they lit up the roadside.
One flittered in front of my face, black as night. Light off, it flew.
The night Brian died, Colleen was catching fireflies on my back patio when I stepped
outside. She had one cupped in her hand, and when I walked down the steps, she released
it into my face, laughing as I swatted it away. “I think that’s bad luck,” she said.
“Like breaking a mirror or walking under a ladder or something.”
“I thought you were grounded,” I said, looking over her outfit: black miniskirt, tight
blue top.
“I was. Until Martha next door got in a fight with her husband and my mom went over,
and my bedroom window just happened to slide open a little, and I just happened to
fall out of it. And then I just so happened to remember that Brian is having a party
this very instant.”
“There’s late, there’s fashionably late, then there’s God-where-were-you-you-missed-everything late. Guess which one we are.”
“He’s your boyfriend. Or something.” She smirked.
I grinned. “My parents will be home in two hours. What’s the point?”
“What’s the point? What’s the point ?” She gripped me by the shoulders and shook. “Cody fucking Parker, that’s the point!”
“He called?”
“No, he texted.” She fumbled around in her bag and pressed a few buttons on her phone
and held it in front of my face, the screen illuminated like the firefly.
where U at
Classy.
“I’m not ready,” I said.
“So get ready.”
I smiled. Colleen smiled back, big and toothy. “Two minutes, Mallory.”
I took three. Exchanged my boxers for a jean skirt and threw on a black tank top.
Since we were God-where-were-you-you-missed-everything late, we didn’t walk up to the beach, down the boardwalk, and cut back in, even though
it was safer according to my parents, who didn’t like me walking in the alleys after
dark. Especially since people came and went so quickly in the summer, renting homes
for a month, or a week. Then they’d be gone and replaced with more people we’d never
get a chance to know.
So as we walked, Colleen took out her black mini canister of pepper spray with the
key ring on the end and swung it around on her pointer finger.
“It’s probably not effective if they know you have it.”
“This is preemptive,” she explained. “They see I have it and that I’m not afraid to
use it. You should get one.”
“That’s why I have you,” I said. Also,
easing my way slowly down the street, watching for the car.
I kept moving until I could see the main gate that Reid had been pointing out. Smaller
and single arched, but smack dead in the middle of the school. From here to the gate,
no car. And beyond, as far as I could see, no car. I squinted, straining to differentiate
the shades of green on the shoulder of the road. The sun had sunk below the tree line,
and the shadows loomed again. I tiptoed down the road, the noises from campus getting
farther away, and eventually darted to the other side of the street, where I was sure
I’d seen the car.
Weeds tickled my calves and the backs of my knees as I made my way through the underbrush.
Nothing. I turned around to go back, wondering if I had imagined it all, if my brain
put it in my head — like how I’d see Brian’s shadow against my furniture in the dark. And then I stepped
into a hole. A flattening of weeds. And beside it, another. And ahead, two more. The
indentations from the tires of a car.
I whipped my head over my shoulder and stared into the trees — no, into the forest. I closed my eyes and listened for sounds from a car. The shadows
stretched farther, crisscrossing the street, making the gate to Monroe contort backward,
concave, like a spoon. I swatted at a mosquito on the back of my arm. And then the
first firefly of the evening flashed in front of me. Light on. Light off. Here and
not here. Like a signal to the rest, they lit up the roadside.
One flittered in front of my face, black as night. Light off, it flew.
The night Brian died, Colleen was catching fireflies on my back patio when I stepped
outside. She had one cupped in her hand, and when I walked down the steps, she released
it into my face, laughing as I swatted it away. “I think that’s bad luck,” she said.
“Like breaking a mirror or walking under a ladder or something.”
“I thought you were grounded,” I said, looking over her outfit: black miniskirt, tight
blue top.
“I was. Until Martha next door got in a fight with her husband and my mom went over,
and my bedroom window just happened to slide open a little, and I just happened to
fall out of it. And then I just so happened to remember that Brian is having a party
this very instant.”
“There’s late, there’s fashionably late, then there’s God-where-were-you-you-missed-everything late. Guess which one we are.”
“He’s your boyfriend. Or something.” She smirked.
I grinned. “My parents will be home in two hours. What’s the point?”
“What’s the point? What’s the point ?” She gripped me by the shoulders and shook. “Cody fucking Parker, that’s the point!”
“He called?”
“No, he texted.” She fumbled around in her bag and pressed a few buttons on her phone
and held it in front of my face, the screen illuminated like the firefly.
where U at
Classy.
“I’m not ready,” I said.
“So get ready.”
I smiled. Colleen smiled back, big and toothy. “Two minutes, Mallory.”
I took three. Exchanged my boxers for a jean skirt and threw on a black tank top.
Since we were God-where-were-you-you-missed-everything late, we didn’t walk up to the beach, down the boardwalk, and cut back in, even though
it was safer according to my parents, who didn’t like me walking in the alleys after
dark. Especially since people came and went so quickly in the summer, renting homes
for a month, or a week. Then they’d be gone and replaced with more people we’d never
get a chance to know.
So as we walked, Colleen took out her black mini canister of pepper spray with the
key ring on the end and swung it around on her pointer finger.
“It’s probably not effective if they know you have it.”
“This is preemptive,” she explained. “They see I have it and that I’m not afraid to
use it. You should get one.”
“That’s why I have you,” I said. Also,
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