7

When we pull up to the house Jay’s black Subaru is parked in the driveway as far to the left as possible. He’s in the driver’s seat tapping at his electronic tablet, but once he sees us he tucks it under his arm and jogs over to open my door. He and Mom exchange friendly “hellos” as she heads into the house.

“How was it?” Jay helps/carries me out of the car.

“Ugh.” I crinkle my nose. “Instead of Ulysses they should call it the Useless Center.”

“Total waste, huh?”

“Well … I did meet this cute guy.” I twirl my hair wickedly. Jay pantomimes using his tablet like a knife to stab himself in the heart and I laugh. “Only one cute guy for me.”

He rewards me with a kiss and eases me onto the lounger on our low front deck. His tablet is still in his hand, and I teasingly reach over and jab the home button. The thing he was working on flashes open and I stop.

“What is that?”

Jay looks down and seems flustered as he clicks back to his home screen.

“No, I want to see.” With a sigh he reopens the file and hands me his tablet.

I stare at the scene. The overgrown trees. The sparkling water. Those crazy arching rails. It’s the swim hole. I press my lips together and rub at the spot where Frankenfoot swallows my leg. Whisper the word “There.”

Jay flinches. “I’m so sorry.” He tries to ease the tablet out of my hands, but I hold tight.

I read the caption he’s written out loud. “‘This place is alive. The trees look like we’ve just caught them playing a game of freeze tag.’”

I smile. “Journalist my ass. You’re a poet.”

“That was just a stupid thought I jotted down that day,” he says. “I assure you, I am not damaged enough to be a poet.”

“So, what were you doing with this?”

Jay takes the tablet from me and mumbles, “Just something I’m messing around with.” Louder he says, “But I want to hear about your morning. How was tea and crumpets?”

With a British accent I say, “I discovered clotted cream is not at all as disgusting as it sounds. In fact, it’s quite lovely on scones.”

“Well then,” Jay mocks. “You should try putting in a request for it at the New Paltz High cafeteria. Of course, their version will have actual clots.”

“Bloody hell,” I say. “I am so over high school.” Jay laughs and I shake my head. “Oh, but I’m not kidding. Come September, I’m going to be homeschooled!” Saying it out loud for the first time makes it sound like really good news.

Jay looks crestfallen.

I ask, “What’s wrong?”

“I kind of thought we’d, you know, be like a power couple working our way through senior year together.”

“That’s sweet. But honestly, I’ve never really fit in there.”

“But now you fit with me.” Jay’s green eyes meet mine.

“True. But you’re missing the point.” I think a minute, trying to come up with a way to explain it. “I feel like … like I’ve been stuck watching some really boring movie for years and years and now I finally have permission to walk out early.”

Jay laughs and kisses the top of my head. “Okay, I get it. School’s not for everyone.”

He plans on getting into Columbia’s journalism program, and I feel ashamed for not having lofty Ivy League aspirations. My only solid goal was to hike the Appalachian Trail right after graduation and now that’s clearly off the schedule.

Jay says, “Tell me more about this hippy-dippy place that’s stealing you away from me.”

I sigh. “The workout stuff is nothing I can’t handle. But there’s this stupid group therapy thing and everyone’s so, I don’t know … tragic?”

Jay leans forward to listen as I describe each person. His eyes widen as I tell him about Polly and her bear attack. Sparky captures his interest as well, but when I get to describing Pierce I pause a moment. I don’t really know anything about him.

“This one guy is sort of assisting with the group,” I say. “He’s a bit older than us and has a prosthetic leg, but I have no clue what his story is.”

Jay closes his eyes and lifts his face to the sun as if trying to remember something. I want to kiss his blond eyelashes. “Is the guy’s name P-something? Perry?” He snaps his fingers and answers himself. “Pierce!”

“That’s it. Pierce.”

“There was a huge article in the New Paltz Times three or four months ago about some kid who lost a leg. I remember it because a letter I wrote to the editor about the Earth Day parade ran in the same issue.”

“What happened to him?”

“Oh, sure, don’t ask me about getting my letter published or anything,” Jay says.

“Right, because the New Paltz Times is so selective about what it prints on its letters page.” I shove him and he laughs.

“Apparently, Pierce is only nineteen and he’s already some sort of war hero.”

“What?” I’m shocked, because the blue-eyed guy with dark, shaggy hair who hobbled onto the deck this afternoon does not match the term “war hero” even a little bit. It does, however, explain Sparky jumping up to shake his hand.

“He graduated a year or two ago. He went to school in Highland, otherwise we would probably have known him.” Jay shakes his head. “The article said he earned a Purple Heart for saving another soldier from burning to death when their Jeep caught fire. That’s how he lost his leg. Just crazy.”

“Wow,” I say, and Jay starts snapping his fingers.

“If I got an interview with that guy I could write a killer piece about his experience! A fallen soldier’s point of view. He can be my Christopher McCandless.”

The book that Jay gave me relates the true story of McCandless’s life. I’m only about halfway through it, but I already know he renamed himself Alexander Supertramp, gave away all his money, headed into the wilds of Alaska, and ended up dead. Jay credits the author, Jon Krakauer, with using Into the Wild to turn the guy into a modern-day hero. “McCandless idolized nature and didn’t respect how dangerous it could be, and it killed him,” Jay says now. “I can do something similar in an article about Pierce’s ideals costing him his leg. He’ll make the ultimate hero. Any chance you could get me an interview?”

“I don’t really know him yet,” I say.

“That’s okay.” He smiles. “Maybe you can ask in a couple of weeks. Just work on getting close to him for me.”

I have to admit I’m a little curious what Pierce’s story is. It probably would make an interesting article. I nod and tell Jay, “I’ll see what I can do.”