Miles holds up his hand. “No, no, it was yours. And it was brilliant. So, we put our stuff in the lockers and rejoined the line through the other side. We didn’t look at the people waiting behind us, we just kept walking down the hallway while the people asked, “Where did those guys come from?”
Grace shakes her head. “So you guys cut your wait time in half?”
“That’s why it’s called cutting in line.” Miles puts an arm around her shoulders and says, “You’ll learn one day.”
I smile and say, “You guys sure live on the edge. Cutting in lines at theme parks? That’s extreme.”
“But it goes to show,” Miles says, holding up a finger, “Kale can have fun.”
That triggers groans from half the table and I can’t hide my laugh, especially when Kale’s face gets a little red.
Grace laughs and Miles gives her a look. The waitress comes and clears our plates and we take our leave.
We all file out, and Miles and Grace wave goodbye as we go back to Kale’s car. He starts it up and pulls onto the empty road. It’s dark now, the headlights lighting up the lines as they disappear beneath the car. Along with the smell of rain and wind, I catch a scent of winter somewhere close. Then it’s gone before I can make sure I’m imagining it.
It makes me think of Kale. And then I’m thinking about how I owe him an overdue apology.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. My words slice through the silence but don’t carry any farther than if I’d whispered. “I didn’t say goodbye, and I’m sorry.”
Kale glances at me. “What are you talking about?”
“The last summer I was here. I promised I would come say goodbye, but I didn’t.”
“Wait, what?” he asks. “You didn’t come say goodbye?”
Now I’m totally confused. “No, I thought that’s why you hadn’t spoken to me since then.”
Then something dawns on his face and he says, “Oh, so you never knew.” He leans closer to me like he’s about to tell me a secret, keeping one hand on the wheel. “Harper, I wasn’t even there. I thought you were mad at me.”
“So we both thought the other person was mad over nothing?” Then I start laughing and ask, “Why didn’t Libby ever say anything? I called her the day after, and she let me go on thinking you were as mad as she was.”
“Because it’s Libby and she likes to keep a certain dramatic flair. It’s my fault, though. I should’ve called you.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” I say. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
Kale smiles at that. “And I’m glad you are. Things have been less than exciting around here, as Miles already hinted at. Can I ask you about something, though?”
“Of course.” But then I regret it when his smile falls away, warning me of what he’s about to ask.
“What happened between you and your mom?” Kale must see me slip, and he hurries to say, “Look, we don’t have to talk about—”
“—No, it’s fine, really.” Even though it’s not, but it should be. “We’re friends and I should tell my friends what’s going on. My mom and I—we’ve just been drifting apart these last few years. She became so absorbed in her job that we barely ever saw each other. Then a month ago, the company she works for offered her a job in Germany. We got in a big fight about it because she didn’t even tell me until she already accepted it. When she told me, ‘I’m going with or without you,’ that’s when I knew I had to get away. It’s not supposed to be like that, you know?”
My eyes are moist, holding in the tears I won’t let out. I will not be crying in front of Kale tonight. The summer we were ten, I fell out of a tree and broke my arm. It was Kale and me that day, and he rushed down because he saw the look on my face. He asked if I was hurt and I told him, “I don’t know.”
I wanted to cry so bad. And I did, but not until later that night after Aunt Holly took me to the ER and she helped me in bed. She said I didn’t have to act so tough anymore, and then I cried on her shoulder until I was tired enough to sleep.
I try to think about anything to take my mind off Mom, but she’s lurking there, making me doubt everything. Kale is still quiet, so I turn and ask, “Do you think I made the right choice coming here?”
“Like Uncle Jasper says, ‘You don’t make mistakes, you make decisions.’”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Yeah. I do.” He flashes me real a smile, his face lit up by the dashboard.
Kale has changed in so many ways that I barely think I know him. He isn’t a boy anymore. There are things that made him grow up—things I don’t know and don’t understand. Things I wish I knew.
He reaches up and fingers something hanging around his neck, and when the light from the dashboard shines on it, I recognize the dog tags I saw him wearing down at the river. He must keep them hidden under his T-shirt, because I haven’t seen them again until now.
“I’ve missed that,” I tell him.
“Missed what?”
“Your smile.”
He keeps looking between me and the road. I laugh once and say, “Just watch the road, Jackson.”
15.
Kale
Jackson.
That’s what she used to call me when we were kids. I’m still thinking about it as I drive home to an empty house and climb into bed a lot earlier than I usually do. The ceiling stares down at me. My body is tired, but my mind won’t shut off, thoughts flickering between Harper and a white forest at night. I settle on Harper and feel sleep coming.
It was nice hanging out with her tonight. When I could, I watched her at the diner while Miles and Grace peppered her with questions. I could’ve stayed there for hours. Being with friends and not worrying about tomorrow.
But now I’m back in the forest again, my feet frozen and stuck to the ground. The moon makes the shadows of the trees inch closer. I try to move but can’t.
Then the shadows turn into soldiers. They shout when they see me.
There’s a rifle in my hands but it’s heavy. Too heavy. I bring it up to my shoulder as someone walks past, toward the waiting enemy with no weapon of his own. I shout a warning but no words come out. I yell as loud as I can, but he doesn’t hear.
Why doesn’t he have a gun?
I look down the rifle’s sights, aiming at the closest soldier. They have their guns up now, all ready to shoot at the same time. But the trigger won’t pull. It’s as stuck as the ground is to my feet. I’m shouting again, trying to get my gun to shoot.
Nothing works.
I can’t stop them.
Someone shouts an order in German and the night is filled with gunshots.
I bolt upright in bed, my breathing trying to catch up with my lungs. My sheets are wet with blood. No, not blood. Just sweat.
It was just a dream. I repeat it over and over in my head, but it doesn’t make it any better.
There’s a knock on my door and then it cracks open.
“Kale?” It’s Bryce. He steps in the room, wearing only shorts. “Are you okay?”
My hands are shaking and I rub them down my face, expecting to find blood, but there’s nothing. “Just a dream,” I tell him.
He steps closer. “Do you want to talk about it?”