Seventeen

Stratofortress’s house is empty, and I’m back to practicing “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” A car passes by trailing rap music. A bottle rocket left over from Fourth of July whistles into the sky and explodes.

It’s afternoon when Tyler shows up. I step out on the porch to meet him, and we head to Swallow’s Nest Bluff.

“So, have they said anything?” Tyler asks once we’re on the road.

“Not really. I don’t think … it really wasn’t that bad, you know?” Except it was. Those seconds of silence when he just stopped playing, they seemed to stretch forever.

“They shouldn’t have asked me to play with them. I shouldn’t have said yes. I let them down. I … ” Tyler shakes his head and doesn’t say anything else. At the bluff, we clamber down the slope and draw our protective circle through the tough wild grass. We play music for you and watch the water lap at the stones.

Tyler plays the “The Drowned Forest” over and over, flawlessly, then “Down by the Riverside.” When he stops for a sip of water, I ask, “So why can you play great here, but not last night?”

“Don’t know. I just—I don’t know. I made one mistake, then another, and then I was panicking and just kept making mistakes.”

“Well, it was your first time playing a real gig. It’s not surprising you got nervous.”

“Yeah.” He fidgets with the water-bottle cap. “I thought it’d be like church, but I know everybody at church. I don’t have to win them over, you know?”

“Sure.”

“Same thing with the Banana Hammocks. We mostly just played for friends, mostly just goofed around. Last night was the first gig that really, really mattered, and I blew it. I totally froze up.”

I nod. “Still, I wish you’d stayed last night. It was the most fun I’ve had in a long time, since Holly died.”

“Against the Dawn’s a great band. I just—”

“No. I mean, it was the most alive I’ve felt. And I wish you’d felt it too.”

Tyler chuckles and nudges me with his shoulder. “I’m alive. Trust me, I know.” He starts playing again, but I put my hand on the strings to silence them.

“It also made me realize death can’t stop life. Death ends one life, but it just starts another.”

“What?”

I’m not explaining it right. It all seemed crystal clear sitting on the Indian mound. “It’s just, we’re going to put Holly to rest sooner or later. And then we’re going to move on, you know? We’re going to have to figure out new lives without her. That’s scary to think about.”

“So, what? You think I messed up last night on purpose so I wouldn’t have to move on? Like, I sabotaged myself because I’m scared?”

“No. But being scared makes it easier to run away after you screwed up. It makes it easy to just curl up inside old memories. It’s the same as not coming to church now. Or not joining the praise band when Bo asked you.”

“Quit! You don’t know what you’re talking about. Just watch the water, okay?”

“Yes, I do know what I’m talking about. I know because I feel it too. It’s scary. Holly’s been my best friend since forever. I don’t even know who I am without her. And when this is over, I’m going to have to let go of her, and that’s scary, Tyler.”

“Just watch, Jane.” He starts to play.

“No. I want to talk.” But Tyler ignores me and keeps playing. I cross my arms and watch the water as evening settles around us like ash. A tear stings the corner of my eye. Too mad to let Tyler see me cry, I wipe it away quickly. For the millionth time, I wish you were here, Holly. Not your ghost, but really you. I wish you could tell us how you survived after your parents’ death, how you found the courage to build a new life all on your own.

Except you weren’t all on your own, were you?

“Tyler, stop. Stop! Holly’s not coming. She’s not here.”

“What?”

I rap my knuckles against my head, hard enough to hurt. “Think about it. Auntie Peake said Holly was just lost. But she was lost before—I mean, she must have felt lost when her parents died—and that time, her grandparents took her in.”

Tyler puts his hand to his mouth. “So she’d go looking for them this time, too. She’s not coming out of the river because she’s already gone home.”