30
Wyatt
Finally, I could see the tower in the distance. The voice, Rachel’s voice, grew louder in my head, and though my legs were numb with the walking and my body was near freezing, I kept going, pushing through trees and obstacles in my way.
Then, suddenly, I was there before the tower. It looked older than I remembered, maybe because of the freshness of the white snow. It looked so dilapidated I might be able to bring it down with the slightest push and rescue her that way.
No, not that way. I could see the rope, her strange, magical hair, hanging to the ground. Above it, I saw her face. She was waiting for me.
I waved to her.
She waved back.
I looked behind me one last time, to assure myself no one had followed me. Nothing. I waved again and yelled, “Hello!”
The sound carried. She jumped up and down, yelling, “Hello! I’m so glad you’re here!”
“It’s nice out! Can you come down?”
“You’ll help me back up?”
“Yes!” I didn’t want to. I wanted her to come with me. But that conversation could wait for later. I wanted her to come down now.
She had gone back inside to get something. She threw it down, and I saw it was a braid, shorter than the one that hung from the tower. I looked up. She was already climbing down.
As she made her way down the rope, I tried to think about how dangerous this was, how crazy, freaky dangerous. I’d done rock climbing at a gym at home, fake rocks, tons of safety equipment. I was good at it, but here—people got killed falling from lesser heights.
And yet, we had done it before. I was willing to risk it to see her.
Finally, she dropped down beside me, and I took her in my arms.
“Missed you,” I said. “I couldn’t make it in the rain.”
“I knew.” She shivered. “Cold here.”
“I brought you some stuff.” I gestured to the coat I’d stolen. “There’s a hat and gloves in the pocket. I thought we could play in the snow. Have you ever done that?”
“I think, maybe when I was a little girl. I remember building a snowman with Mama. But then, she got scared and we had to go inside.”
“We can build a snowman. Put it on.”
I picked up the coat and held it so she could step into it. Then, the hat and gloves. Once dressed, she twirled around, modeling, and I wondered if that was some instinct all girls had, twirling, modeling, even if they’d never seen a television or even met another girl before.
I had a strange sense of déjà vu, looking at her, as if I’d seen that girl in that coat before. I shook it off. Of course I hadn’t.
“How do I look?” she asked.
“Adorable.”
I kissed her. The wind picked up the fresh snow and flung it around us, and I felt like this was the first day I’d ever lived, like Tyler and Nikki and everyone at home didn’t exist, and we were the only people in this beauty of a white world. “So what should we do?”