Panic

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 8

heather

IN EARLY OCTOBER, CARP ENJOYED A WEEK OF FALSE summer. It was warm and bright and, if it weren’t for the trees that had already changed—deep reds and oranges interspersed with the deep green of the pines—it might have been the beginning of summer.

One day, Heather woke up with the sudden, strong impulse to return to where the game had begun. A mist rose slowly over Carp, shimmering, dispersing finally in the mounting sun; the air smelled like moist ground and freshly cut grass.

“How’d you like to go swimming, Bill?” she asked Lily when Lily rolled over, blinking, hair scattered across the pillow. Heather could see the light pattern of freckles on Lily’s nose, individual lashes highlighted by the sun, and thought her sister had never looked so pretty.

“With Bishop, too?” Lily asked.

Heather couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “With Bishop, too.” He had been driving home every weekend from college, to fulfill his community service duties. And to see Heather.

In the end, she decided to invite Nat and Dodge, too. It seemed right, somehow. When the small yellow envelope containing a single gold key—the key to a strongbox at a local bank—had arrived mysteriously in the mail, she had collected and divided the money among the three of them. She knew Dodge had given most of his portion to Bill Kelly; they were building a small memorial for Little Kelly at the site of the Graybill House, which had been demolished. Nat was taking some acting classes in Albany, and she’d gotten a job modeling clothes on weekends at the Hudson Valley Mall.

And starting in January, Heather would enroll in the Jefferson Community College’s program in veterinary services.

Heather packed the trunk with a blanket, beach towels, mosquito repellent, and sunscreen; a stack of old, waterlogged magazines from Anne’s living room; a cooler full of iced tea; several bags of chips; and creaky beach chairs with faded, striped seats. She could sense that tomorrow the weather would turn again, and the air would be edged with cold. Soon Krista would get out of her thirty-day program, and then Heather and Lily might have to return to Fresh Pines, at least temporarily. And soon the months of rain would come.

But today was perfect.

They arrived at the estuary just before lunch. Nobody had spoken much in the car. Lily had squeezed in between Dodge and Nat in the backseat. Nat braided a portion of Lily’s hair and whispered quietly to her about which movie stars she thought were the cutest; Dodge had leaned his head back against the window, and it was only from the occasional way his mouth twitched into a smile that Heather knew he wasn’t asleep. Bishop kept one hand on Heather’s knee as she drove. It still seemed miraculous to see it there, to know that he was hers—as he always had been, in some way. But everything was different now.

Different and better.

Once out of the car, all their restraint lifted. Lily went whooping into the woods, holding her towel over her head so it flapped behind her like a banner. Nat chased after her, swatting away the branches in her path. Dodge and Bishop helped Heather clear out the trunk, and together they all went pushing through the woods, loaded down with towels and beach chairs and the cooler clinking ice.

The beach looked cleaner than usual. Two trash cans had been installed at the far end of the shore, and the sand-and-gravel strip of beach was free of the usual cigarette butts and beer cans. Sunlight filtering through the trees patterned the water in crazy colors—purples and greens and vivid blues. Even the steep face of the rock wall across the water, from which all the players had jumped, now looked beautiful instead of frightening: there were flowers growing out of fissures in the rock, Heather noticed, tangled vines sweeping down toward the water. The trees at the top of the jumping point were fire-red already, burning in the sun.

Lily trotted back to Heather as she was shaking out the blanket. There was a light breeze, and Heather had to tamp down the corners with different belongings: her flip-flops, Bishop’s sunglasses, the beach bag.

“Is that it, Heather?” Lily pointed. “Is that where you jumped?”

“Nat jumped too,” Heather said. “We all did. Well, except Bishop.”

“What can I say?” He was already unlacing his Converses. He winked at Lily. “I’m chicken.”

Briefly, his eyes met Heather’s. After all this time, she still couldn’t quite believe that he had planned Panic, or forgive him for not having told her. She would never have guessed in a million years: her Bishop, her best friend, the boy who used to dare her to eat her scabs and then almost throw up when she did.

But that was the point. He was the same, and different. And that made her hopeful in a way. If people changed, it meant that she was allowed to change too. She could be different.

She could be happier.

Heather would be happier—was happier already.

“It isn’t that high,” Lily said. She squinted. “How’d you get all the way up there?”

“Climbed,” Heather said. Lily opened her mouth soundlessly.

“Come on, Lily!” Nat was standing by the water, shimmying out of her shorts. Dodge stood a short distance away, smiling out over the river, watching her. “Race you into the water!”

“No fair!” Lily ran, kicking up sand, struggling out of her T-shirt at the same time.

Heather and Bishop lay down on the blanket together, on their backs. She rested her head on his chest. Every so often, he ran his fingers lightly through her hair. For a while they didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. Heather knew that no matter what, he would always be hers, and they would always have this: a perfect day, a temporary reprieve from the cold.

Heather had started to drift off to sleep when Bishop stirred. “I love you, Heather.”

She opened her eyes. She was warm and lazy. “I love you, too,” she said. The words came with no trouble at all.

He had just kissed her—once, lightly, on the top of her head; and then, when she tilted her face to his, harder, on the lips—when Lily began to shout.

“Heather! Heather! Look at me! Heather!”

Lily was standing at the very top of the rocks. Heather hadn’t seen her climbing; she must have been quick. Heather felt a pulse of fear.

“Get down!” she called.

“She’s fine,” Dodge said.

He was now standing in the water with Nat—Heather couldn’t believe Nat had managed to convince him to swim, or that he even owned a bathing suit. One arm was wrapped around Nat’s waist. They looked amazing together, like statues carved from different-colored rocks.

“Watch me!” Lily crowed. “I’m going to jump!”

She did; without hesitating, Lily threw herself into the air. For a second she seemed to be suspended there, legs and arms splayed, mouth open and laughing. Then she was hitting the water and surfacing, spitting out a mouthful of water, calling, “Did you see? I wasn’t scared. Not at all.”

A feeling of joy flooded Heather, made her feel light and dizzy. She was on her feet and plunging into the water before Lily could reach the shore, splashing past Nat, who shrieked, tackling her sister as she tried to stand up and dragging her back into the water.

“You weren’t scared, huh?” Heather attacked Lily’s bare stomach as Lily wriggled away from her, squealing with laughter, calling for Bishop’s help. “Are you scared of being tickled, huh? Are you?”

“Bishop, help me!” Lily screamed, as Heather wrapped her in a bear hug.

“I’m coming, Bill!” Then Bishop was sloshing in after them, pulling Heather backward so they collapsed together into the water. She came up spluttering, laughing, pushing him off.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” Bishop said. He kept his arms around her waist. His eyes were the same blue-green as the water. Her Bishop. Her best friend.

“Children, children, don’t fight,” Nat said, teasing.

The wind lifted goose bumps on Heather’s skin, but the sun was warm. She knew that this day, this feeling, couldn’t last forever. Everything passed; that was partly why it was so beautiful. Things would get difficult again. But that was okay too.

The bravery was in moving forward, no matter what. Someday, she might be called on to jump again. And she would do it. She knew, now, that there was always light—beyond the dark, and the fear, out of the depths; there was sun to reach for, and air and space and freedom.

There was always a way up, and out, and no need to be afraid.