Cold Summer

“Nah, you guys go ahead,” I say. “We’ll hang out here.”


He nods and they both disappear in the sea of bodies. We’re about halfway from the stage, but still close enough to see the band. A few more people push by us, knocking Harper into me. I grab her arm to steady her, feeling her soft skin under my fingers.

She flashes a smile. “Thanks.”

“Are shows always like this?”

She steps away again, our arms close to brushing. “Usually, yeah.”

The music starts up, a piano riff along with some soft drums that slowly build. The lights flash over the screaming crowd, more deafening than the band.

But I don’t take my eyes off Harper.

The room pulses with life. The music hits its climax. The floor shakes with bass and people jumping.

But my heart is only pounding because of her. I want to close the distance between us. To be near her. To feel her fingers twined with mine.

Just when I gain the courage to say something, a gunshot goes off somewhere behind me. I flinch and bump into someone standing next to me.

“Dude, what’s your problem?” he yells.

“Kale, are you all right?” Her hand is on my arm, her eyes worried. “It was just someone setting off a firecracker or something.”

My head starts to spin inside itself. Too fast.

Cigarette smoke fills my lungs, reminding me of somewhere far away.

Somewhere white and red.

Lights from the stage flash above. Flares in the night sky. A warning of something worse to come.

Someone screaming. Everyone screaming.

More gunshots go off behind me and I close my eyes. Try to make them disappear. Make myself disappear.

I don’t want to go back there.

I’m cold. My hands shake, and I’m too afraid to open my eyes.

To see something I don’t want to.

I don’t want to be there. Not now.

Not when I’m with her.

I can’t.

Everything flashes black.

Then someone whispers my name. “Kale.”

Then louder. “Kale!”

I open my eyes. Harper is crouched next to me on the floor, trying to find me when I’m right here in front of her. My body trembles. The clash of cymbals causes me to flinch again. My hands won’t cover my ears because they’re still shaking.

“Kale, look at me.”

Harper’s hand rests against my face, willing my gaze to meet hers.

“It’s okay,” she says, staring into me. “Take my hand. I’ll get you out of here.”

Her skin feels so warm against mine. I let her pull me up and lead me through the crowd. I can’t get enough air. The cymbals crash once more and the lights flash. When my head starts spinning again, I can only hear the racing beat of my heart.

I’m barely able to hang on. To this time and to this life.

A door opens ahead of me and fresh air hits my lungs. Every time I blink, something flashes that I don’t want to see. The images overcome me, and soon I can’t open my eyes at all.

All I see is Adams lying dead in the snow. Staring up and mouthing words I can’t make out. I scream at him but my voice doesn’t work. I can’t move or close my eyes. I can only stand there and stare while his blood melts the snow beneath him.

“Kale, open your eyes.”

I can’t open my eyes because they’re already open. I want to close them, not open them. I want to disappear and never come back.

“Please, Kale.” Harper’s voice pushes through my thoughts. “Don’t leave yet.”

I open my eyes to a silent world. I’m sitting in an alleyway, my back pressed against a brick wall. Harper kneels in front of me. My heartbeat starts to slow, my hands shake less. My jeans are damp because I’m sitting in a puddle left over from the rain.

I’m still here.

I’m still here.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

She gives me the smallest smile. “It’s not something you have to apologize for.”

I take a deep breath, rubbing my hands over my eyes, but they keep going until my fingers are buried under my hat. “I thought I was gone for sure.”

“But you’re not.”

The music hums from inside the building. I drop my hands and stare at my jeans. I’ve never felt so weak. “Only because of you,” I say.

I know Harper is the only reason I’m still here. Without her, I would be gone.

Seventy years into the past.

There’s no doubt.

It starts to rain again. A few drops fall from the sky, slapping softly against the pavement around us. “You don’t have to be ashamed, Kale. A lot of people who’ve been in war go through things like this.”

“But none of them probably have to fight themselves to stay in the present.”

“Is that what it’s usually like, when you go?”

“No, it’s never happened like this before.” I finally look up at Harper, wondering what she thinks of me. “It’s usually just my dreams at night. That’s why I can never sleep for too long.”

The rain comes down in full, sprouting droplets around us.

Harper’s knee is pressed to her chest, her arms folded around it. She ignores the rain soaking her hair. “But you did last night,” she says.

“I did.” I smile and shiver at the same time. I push myself up and Harper stands with me. Drops of water drip from the bill of my hat. “Again, only because of you.”

“You keep saying that,” she says.

“Because it’s true.”

My body trembles with cold, and for the second time tonight, Harper takes my hand. “Come on, let’s go home.”



After dropping off Harper, I go home and expect to find Dad already in bed. But when I walk through the door, he’s asleep on the couch.

I’m still on edge from earlier tonight, but I can’t make myself walk past him.

I gently shake his shoulder. “Dad?”

His eyes blink open and he sits up, taking me in. “Kale?” He glances at the clock. “You’re back.”

I just look at him. “I said I would be, didn’t I?”

He glances away quickly and gets up. “I meant early,” he says.

“Oh, well, it didn’t go as long as I thought it would.”

He looks over me, still trying to wake up. “You should get to bed then. I don’t want to be woken up by you banging around somewhere.”

But before I turn to go, I ask, “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah … yeah, everything’s fine. Go to bed.”

Dad heads for the stairs and I stand there, wondering how to make things normal between us.





26.


Harper




I spend a good part of the night staring up at my ceiling, thinking about Kale and the other world he has to live through. Even though he denies it, I know things aren’t well at home for him either, and I hate feeling like I can do nothing to help him.

When morning finally comes, shining through the trees still dripping from last night’s rain, I go downstairs to find Uncle Jasper sitting at the table. Toast and coffee are already in front of him while he scratches letters into today’s crossword. The mug sitting on the table shows a giraffe wearing a winter hat.

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