Then his hand clasps mine, and my shoulders sag with relief.
His palm is moist, and the salt of his sweat burns the stings and cuts I’ve accumulated all night long. I pull him toward me, away from that nightmare abyss. He stumbles against me. I put my arms around him
to steady him, and we stand like that for a moment. I can feel the tremble that’s seized his body, fluttering against my heart.
“We should get out of here,” he whispers. The scare seems to have sobered him up a little. His pupils are enormous in the darkness, his eyes focusing more clearly now.
I let go of him. I’m suddenly tired to the bone, my body limp as a rag doll. For a moment I think about climbing down with Garrett. His car will be in the parking lot, and he will be able to take me home. He
seems clear-headed enough to drive now, and I can tell how bad he feels, both for accosting me and for almost dropping me.
But I don’t feel safe with him. I know how hurt he’s been, and I know he doesn’t mean to lash out—but I’ve been making excuses for him for months now.
“You go ahead,” I say. My voice is soft but firm. “I want some time alone, okay?”
He frowns at me. “It’s dangerous out here at night. I don’t think I should leave you.”
I shake my head. “Look, it’s been a crazy night. I need some time to process it all, okay? I’ll be all right. I’ll head down to Nisha’s when I’m ready to get out of here. But right now I just need a
little space.”
He doesn’t let go of my hand. For just a moment he looks into my eyes, and I can see everything he wants to say there—how sorry he is, how sad he is, how much he loves me. I look away, toward the bright
city lights.
“Will you call me tomorrow?” he asks, a slight tremor in his voice.
I hesitate. I want so badly to break it off with him, once and for all. I want a brand-new start when I walk off this mountain. But if I set him off again, who knows what he’ll do?
“Yeah,” I say. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Tomorrow, when he’s sober, when we’re not in the middle of nowhere, I’ll rip the bandage off. I’ll end it and tell him my decision is final. But for now this is the best I can do.
He reaches out to take my hand in his. We stand that way for a minute, him cradling my fingers in his palm. Something about it—how tender he’s gotten, and how ashamed—twists my heart. Then he pulls away,
still a little shaky on his feet, and turns wordlessly, walking slowly down the trail to the parking lot. I can hear him even after he disappears from my sight, breaking branches and stumbling.
A profound silence settles over the canyon when he’s gone. All of the city sounds—barking dogs and sirens and cruising motors—have died away.
It’s a strange feeling. All day long, I’m surrounded by voices that tell me where I belong, what I should be doing, who I am. But tonight, in this deep, dark silence, I can decide that for myself. I climb
onto a low boulder and stare out over the city. It’s beautiful and calm from here. People are asleep in their beds, never suspecting that one lonely girl is looking at the twinkling lights outside their
homes.
I’ve only been out here a few hours, but it feels like years have passed. I’ve learned so much tonight, about who I am and where I came from. About who I want to be. It’s hard to know what tomorrow will
hold—I’ll have to face my dad again, after discovering his secrets. I’ll have to face Laurel, who’s spent the night in the ER with Thayer. Then I think about the e-mail draft on my phone. I quickly pull
it up, but just as I suspected, the top corner is flashing with NO SERVICE. I reread it, and a little thrill goes through me. I mean every word. The moment that I have a signal again, I’m sending this to
Thayer. And my secret twin sister—I will find her, if it’s the last thing I do.
And deep inside my sore, stiff body, I feel a sense of peace. Everything is going to be different, starting tomorrow.
I stand up, brushing the dirt off my thighs. I’ve had enough soul-searching for one night. It’s time for my pajamas and a cup of my mom’s peppermint tea. Time to get down the mountain and find a ride home.
But then someone clears his throat behind me.
I turn slowly to see a guy standing there. He’s tall, with high cheekbones and dark hair. His frayed hiking shorts show off his muscular calves. On his hands he wears black climbing gloves, and a bashful
smile plays around his lips.
It’s Ethan Landry.
“Oh. Hey,” I say, jerking my neck backward in surprise. “What are you doing out here?”
Even in the pale moonlight I can see him blush. He kicks at a stone with the tip of his sneaker. “Sorry to startle you. I saw you on the trail from my house,” he says, gesturing to the darkness below us. “
I was watching the stars. There’s a meteor shower tonight.”