He’s been calling out horrible things to her all along, but suddenly he stops talking, he’s dead silent, and Kylie knows this is it. He’s running really fast, she can feel him; he’s going to get her now, or he’s not going to get her at all. Kylie’s breathing is shallow and panicky, but she takes a single deep breath, and then she turns. She turns quickly, she’s almost running to him, and he sticks his arms out, to catch her, but she loops around, toward the Turnpike. Her legs are so long she could sidestep ponds and lakes. With one good leap she could be up there where there are stars, where it’s cold and clear and constant, and things like this never, ever happen.
By the time he’s close enough to reach out and grab her shirt, Kylie has made it to the Turnpike. A man walking his golden retriever is just down the street. At the corner, a gang of sixteen-year-old boys is heading home from the town pool after swim team practice. They would surely hear Kylie if she screamed, but she doesn’t have to. The man who’s been following her stays where he is, then retreats, back into the weeds. He’ll never get her now, because Kylie is still running. She runs through the traffic, and along the opposite side of the street; she runs past the tavern and the supermarket. She doesn’t feel she can stop, or even slow down, until she’s inside the ice cream parlor and the bell over the door jingles to signify that the door has opened and is now closed tight behind her.
She has mud all over her legs, and her breathing is so shallow that each time she inhales she wheezes in some strangled way, like rabbits when they pick up the scent of a coyote or a dog. An elderly couple sharing a sundae look up and blink. The four divorced women at the table by the window appraise what a mess Kylie is, then think of the difficulties they’ve been having with their own children, and decide, all at once, that they’d better set out for home.
Antonia hasn’t been paying much attention to the customers. She’s smiling and leaning her elbows on the counter, the better to gaze into Scott Morrison’s eyes as he explains the difference between nihilism and pessimism. He’s here every night, eating rocky road ice cream and falling more deeply in love. They have spent hours making out in the front and back seats of Scott’s mother’s car, kissing until their lips are fevered and bruised, getting their hands into each other’s pants, wanting each other so much that they’re not thinking of anything else. In the past week, Scott and Antonia have both had incidents where they crossed the street without looking both ways and were frightened back to the sidewalk by a blaring horn. They’re in their own world, a place so dreamy and complete they don’t have to pay attention to traffic, or even to the fact that other human beings exist.
Tonight, it takes a while for Antonia to realize it’s her sister standing there, dripping mud and weeds onto the linoleum floor that Antonia is responsible for keeping clean.
“Kylie?” she says, just to make certain.
Scott turns to look and then understands that the weird noise he’s been hearing behind him, which he thought was the rattling air conditioner, is someone’s ragged breathing. The scratches along Kylie’s legs have begun to bleed. Chocolate frosting is smeared over her shirt and her hands.
“Jesus,” Scott says. He’s been thinking on and off about med school, but, when it comes right down to it, he doesn’t like the surprises human beings can throw at you. Pure science is more his speed. It’s a whole lot safer and more exact.
Antonia comes out from behind the counter. Kylie just stares at her, and in that instant, Antonia knows exactly what’s happened.
“Come on.” She grabs Kylie’s hand and pulls her toward the back room, where the cans of syrup and the mops and brooms are kept. Scott is following.
“Maybe we’d better take her over to the emergency room,” he says.
“Why don’t you go behind the counter?” Antonia suggests. “Just in case there are any customers.”
When Scott hesitates, Antonia has no doubt that he’s fallen in love with her. Another boy would turn and run. He’d be grateful to be released from a scene like this.
“Are you sure?” Scott asks.
“Oh, yes.” Antonia nods. “Very.” She pulls Kylie into the storeroom. “Who was it?” she asks. “Did he hurt you?”
Kylie can smell chocolate, and it’s making her so nauseated she can barely stand up straight. “I ran,” she says. Her voice is funny. It sounds as if she were about eight years old.
“He didn’t touch you?” Antonia’s voice sounds funny, too.
Antonia hasn’t turned on the light in the storeroom. Moonlight filters through the open window in waves, turning the girls as silver as fish.
Kylie looks at her sister and shakes her head no. Antonia considers the countless horrible things she’s said and done, for reasons she herself doesn’t understand, and her throat and face become scarlet with shame. She never even thought to be generous or kind. She would like to comfort her sister and give her a hug, but she doesn’t. She’s thinking, I’m sorry, but she can’t say the words out loud. They stick in her throat because she should have said them years ago.
All the same, Kylie understands what her sister means, and that’s the reason she can finally cry, which is what she’s wanted to do since she first began running in the field. When she’s done crying, Antonia closes up the shop. Scott gives them a ride home, through the dark, humid night. The toads have come out from the creek, and Scott has to swerve as he drives, and still he can’t avoid hitting some of the creatures. Scott knows something major has happened, although he’s not clear on what. He notices that Antonia has a band of freckles across her nose and cheeks. If he saw her every single day for the rest of his life, he would still be surprised and thrilled each time he looked at her. When they get to the house, Scott has the urge to get down on his knees and ask her to marry him, even though she has another year of high school to go. Antonia’s not the girl he thought she was, a bratty, spoiled kid. Instead, she’s somebody who can make his pulse go crazy simply by resting her hand on his leg.
“Turn your lights off,” Antonia tells Scott as he pulls into the driveway. She and Kylie exchange a look. Their mother has come home and left the porch light on for them, and they have no way of knowing that she’s gone off to bed exhausted. For all they know, she may be waiting up for them, and they don’t want to face someone whose worry will outweigh their own fear. They don’t want to have to explain. “We’re avoiding dealing with our mom,” Antonia tells Scott.
She kisses him quickly, then carefully opens the car door, so it won’t creak as it usually does. There’s a toad trapped beneath one of Scott’s tires, and the air feels watery and green as the sisters run across the lawn, then sneak into the house. They find their way upstairs in the dark, then lock themselves in the bathroom, where Kylie can wash the mud and chocolate off her arms and face, and the blood off her legs. Her shirt is ruined, and Antonia hides it in the trash basket, beneath some tissues and an empty shampoo bottle. Kylie’s breathing is still off; there’s a ripple of panic when she inhales.
“Are you all right?” Antonia whispers.
“No,” Kylie whispers back, and that makes them both laugh. The girls put their hands over their mouths to ensure that their voices won’t reach their mother’s bedroom; they wind up doubled over and out of breath, with tears in their eyes.