CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

One Last Piece of Normal

The walk home is endless. I don’t know what to do with my hands so I shove them in my front pockets, but that feels awkward too. Gabe keeps shooting little glances at me. Finally he says, “It’ll be okay.”

“You don’t believe that.” I kick a rock out of my way. It skitters over the sidewalk and smacks into the wheel of a kid’s tricycle with a dull thunk.

“It will be okay,” he insists. “In the end things will turn out like they’re supposed to and whatever happens, happens.”

“How can you not be freaking out? I’m freaking out and it’s not my dad who’s about to be run out of town.”

Gabe grimaces. “Nice visual.”

“You know people are going to go nuts when your dad admits to faking the miracles.”

“Probably. But they’ll get over it.”

“And if you have to leave?”

“I can’t think about that right now. I’m sorry. The past two days have majorly sucked. Can we have one last night of normal? Please?”

I’m quiet a little too long and Gabe’s shoulders tense. He stops walking and I turn to face him. “I don’t know what normal is anymore,” I say, finally.

“It’s the two of us. Just hanging together. The way it’s always been.”

“So you want to hang out? Go grab a slice of pizza, sit on the curb, and watch cars drive past? How can you act like nothing’s changed?”

“Because not everything has.”

I give him a hard look. “Really? Nothing’s changed between you and me?” I feel like I swallowed a tennis ball. It’s choking me and I have trouble getting the words out. Does he regret grabbing my hand earlier? Or was that a friendly gesture and I totally misread things? I feel like an idiot.

He flushes. “Okay, maybe things are a little different. But you’re still my best friend. You’re still the person I trust most in this world and I don’t want things to be weird between us. I want to go sit by the creek and throw rocks in the water. You and me and five million mosquitoes. Our summertime ritual.”

“It’s fall.” But I soften a little. Because he’s the person I trust most in this world too. Is it so wrong to want to hang on to something normal? “Okay. You, me, and the mosquitoes. Let’s go.”

Gabe smiles, tentative and slow. I smile back, although it’s a bit stiff. We start walking again but this time we turn away from my house, toward the little creek that runs on the east edge of town. Most of the year the creek is barely two feet across and only ankle deep. It’s slow moving and lichen grows on the rocks by the bank. There are three large boulders near where the creek curves away from town, out toward the farmlands. That’s where we head. A long time ago, when we were twelve, Gabe and I scratched our initials into the side of the largest boulder. Not deep—we only had an old screwdriver—but the letters are still there, jerky and imperfect.

As I climb up onto the middle boulder, I slide my fingers over our initials. DRD. Delaney Roberta Delgado. Six inches away are Gabe’s, GBB, Gabriel Beauregard Beaudean. We didn’t bother adding a plus sign or BFFs 4 EVER or any of that other crap little kids write. We’d simply claimed the rock as our own. No hearts for us. The distance between our initials, the lack of any other embellishment, feels ominous tonight.

The cicadas buzz loudly in the trees around us and before long I’m slapping mosquitoes. Gabe scours the edge of the creek, gathering small stones. He piles them in a heap between the two of us when he climbs up beside me. It’s dark, but the trees are sparse this close to the water and enough moonlight filters down to let us see a bit. It softens the edges of things.

We take turns tossing rocks into the creek, seeing who can make the biggest splash. Before long we’re laughing. The tension slips away. I throw a stone a little too close and drops of water splash over our jeans.

“Hey!” Gabe says in mock outrage.

I laugh harder and deliberately throw another rock close by his feet. He scowls and grabs my arms, stopping me from splashing more water on him. He’s suddenly too close, the playfulness gone. I look up at Gabe and he’s staring back at me. I go completely still and Gabe’s hands loosen on my arms, sliding around my back and pulling me even closer. His head lowers and in the next moment, we’re kissing. Soft and tentative. A brush of lips on lips. I wind my arms around his neck and hold on tight. We kiss for a long time. And it’s hot and sweaty and wonderful and impossible all at the same time.

When we draw apart I shiver, missing his arms around me. Gabe twists so we’re sitting side by side rather than facing each other and wraps an arm around my shoulders. I rest my head against him and listen to the creek burbling lazily at our feet. Overhead, the stars go on forever, bright pinpricks, and the crickets rasp a furious chorus that can’t quite drown out the thump, thump, thump of my heart beating hard against my chest.

“We need to head back,” Gabe says in a ragged voice, giving my shoulders a squeeze. He clears his throat.

“Okay.” But I don’t move. I want to stay here, perched on this rock with his arm around me, forever. If we leave this place I’m worried we’ll never come back. That it’ll be like that day at the lake with Claire; a last moment of calm before our lives get tossed in a blender.

“Lots of colleges have art programs,” Gabe says.

I draw away. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s only one more year and then we’re both off to college. Lots of schools have art programs as well as architecture. We can attend the same school. So even if—” He breaks off, clearing his throat again like he can’t force the words out.

“Yeah,” I say. We both know his dad’s right. There’s a good chance Mr. Beaudean won’t be allowed to stay on at Holy Cross after tomorrow’s meeting with the town council. Their house belongs to the church and without a job or a place to live, they won’t be staying in Clemency. Mr. Beaudean might have to move pretty far away to find a congregation willing to take on a preacher with that much scandal hanging over his head. Maybe even give up the church altogether. I might never see Gabe again. That thought hurts so bad I shove it aside. There’s always email, the phone, and vid chats. It’s not like he’s going to disappear from my life. But he won’t be here. Something with claws and teeth is hollowing out my chest, leaving an empty space. I want Gabe to kiss me again and fill it back up. “What happened just now—” I begin.

Gabe presses a finger against my lips before dropping it. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.”

I grin. “How long?”

“Long enough,” he mutters. He brushes a hand over my cheek and I shiver.

And then we’re kissing again. When we finally pull back, we’re both breathing hard. Gabe slides off the boulder and holds a hand out to me. I take it and we walk to my house, fingers tangled together.

Tomorrow, everything will change. Again. The media trucks will pack up and leave, Clemency’s citizens will erupt with gossip and bickering, as they always do whenever anything big happens, and my world will turn inside out. But right now, Gabe’s hand is in mine and the only mystery left is where the two of us are headed. I’m not sure about anything else in this world: God, tomorrow, why awful things happen. But I’m sure about Gabe and he’s right, I’m going to be okay. Claire’s death didn’t destroy me. And maybe it didn’t completely destroy my family either. I think of Mom, sitting at the table this morning with her stack of pancakes and the way she stood outside my door last night, saying she loves me. I think of Emmet and our awkward hug just hours ago. I have a chance to change things with both of them. There are as many beginnings in life as there are endings. I squeeze Gabe’s hand tighter and he squeezes back.