78. Midnight

It’s not like I’m unaware of my lack of connection. Even here at this high school in the middle of nowhere, I see kids walking around with their phones, typing and texting and connecting. It’s no different from back home. Kids are kids. The fact that I finally just got Internet at home doesn’t escape me.

My problem is that the more I feel I connect, the more trouble I get in.

Connection now comes the old-fashioned way. Just like it has all along since I’ve been here.

The sheet of paper, the handwritten note.

Good old-fashioned communication.

Nondetectable communication.

Rachel comes up to me on Wednesday as I’m walking away from lunch and slips me a note.

“How are you doing?” she asks.

Since I’ve been banned from Jocelyn by someone or some people I don’t even know, I haven’t had much connection with Rachel or Poe either.

“Fine.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“I can guess who this is from.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just wanted to say hi. I miss having you around at lunch.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Crazy place, huh?” Rachel says.

“Yep.”

“Don’t let it get you down.”

“How’s Lee?”

“He’s not.”

I nod.

“Watch your back,” Rachel says in a matter that I can’t tell is joking or serious.

I am watching my back. Every moment of every day.

I take the note into the bathroom, making sure Gus or his buddies aren’t around to follow me, then read it.

The only thing on it are directions.

That and a time. Five p.m. today.

The intrigue continues.

The old railroad signal stands like a rusty relic from the past, one eye staring out under a round tube, unused for many years now. This is where I’m supposed to stop and head into the woods.

I glance at my watch and can barely make out that it’s five thirty. The sun is already far below the trees, and I know that any daylight will soon be gone. I didn’t realize how long it would take me to get here. I’m walking with my backpack over my shoulder.

I hope Jocelyn will still be there.

I head into woods that instantly seem to get darker. In her note, she says to simply turn right at the railroad signal. That I can’t miss it. I walk as straight as possible.

What can’t I miss? A big hole in the middle of the earth? A dark, haunted prison? How about a field full of the walking dead, all coming at me?

But ten minutes later, if that, the woods open up, and I see a large, square, two-story building.

It’s a big barn in the middle of nowhere.

A light flickers inside a window (or the empty hole that used to be a window).

Either Jocelyn is there or I’m about to be really freaked out.

As I get closer, I see that the large mouth of an opening no longer has a door. I enter and feel chilled and look for the source of the light.

“Chris?” a hushed voice calls out.

A beam from a flashlight causes me to squint and hold up my hand. The light goes back out.

“Come here,” she says.

I walk past several stalls that probably held horses or cattle at one point. There’s only dirt on the ground as I walk through cobwebs and brush them off my face. I reach the open door where the light came from.

It pops on again, and I see her face. Hovering in the darkness, a white angelic portrait of perfection.

“You’re late,” she says.

“I didn’t realize how long it would take.”

“I’m sorry—it’s a long haul, walking.”

“What are we doing here?” I ask.

“Come here. Look.”

I stand by her and smell her sweet strawberry smell. The flashlight points at a corner in the stall. I see a box of some kind on its side—then something black and furry pops its head out.

“What is that?” I ask. For some reason I think of one of those creatures from Return of the Jedi, an Ewok.

“It’s a puppy.”

“What?” I ask, laughing and kneeling down to see it.

Sure enough, the black and white ball of fur is a puppy. I pick it up, and it reaches my face and starts to lick me.

“Where’d you find him?”

“It’s a her, actually. A neighbor gave it to me. Wade threatened to kill her—and I’ve seen him run over dogs. I know he’d do it. So I brought her out here.”

“What is this place? How’d you find it?”

“Just an old barn that hasn’t been used in years. Probably because the trains don’t run through town anymore. You probably didn’t see it, but there’s a road right behind the barn. Kinda hard to get to—you have to use four-wheel drive—but it only takes about ten minutes from downtown.”

I’m petting the puppy as I look around.

“Nobody is watching this place,” Jocelyn continues. “I like to imagine that it’s mine.”

“Not sure what it looks like in the daytime, but it sure doesn’t seem very homey.”

“You ever see It’s a Wonderful Life?”

“Yeah, think so. Bits at least.”

“Bits? Come on.”

“It’s an old movie,” I tell her.

“And what’s that mean? There’s the scene where they’re looking at this old house, and Donna Reed makes a wish to be living there one day. I’ve done that with this old place.”

“What’s the puppy’s name?” I ask.

“Midnight.”

I can feel Midnight licking my cheek again. She’s so light, like I’m holding a fur glove in my hand.

“So she just stays here? You don’t worry about her?”

“Nah. This stall opens up to another—I close the doors, but she’s got plenty of room to run around. That keeps out any animals that might look at her like an evening meal.”

“More like an appetizer.”

Jocelyn chuckles. “I come here once a day to check on her and just hang out. I like to imagine what it would be like to live here. This place, this freedom, being able to call it my life.” She takes the puppy from my hands. “Sometimes I can’t wait to see Midnight. Sometimes that’s what gets me through the day.”

“Sounds poetic,” I say.

“It’s a lot more than that. It’s hope. It’s a wonderful thing, hope.”

“I love you.”

The words seem to come out of nowhere, and I half wonder who said them.

She looks at me, and in the beam of the light shining down on the ground, her face is accented and shadowed and glorious. She gives me her usual sweet, sad smile.

“Sorry, that just—that just came out.”

“That’s the best kind, then.”

Jocelyn puts Midnight back on the blanket in the box and takes my hand. She closes the door to the stall and then leads me to the back of the barn. She tells me to hold the light as she climbs an old wooden ladder, then beckons me to follow.

Sometimes I feel like Midnight must feel, following this girl everywhere she goes.

Soon we’re sitting on the ledge of an opening at the top of the barn where there used to be either a large door or window. I can still see the edges of the smoldering sun in the distant horizon.

She leans against me and holds my hand. “I’m not scared anymore, Chris.”

“About what?”

“About anything.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t have a reason to be.”

“That’s good, right?” I say, not sure why she doesn’t have a reason to be but not wanting to break the mood.

For a long time we sit there, Jocelyn pressed up against me with the rest of the world far away.

“I meant what I said,” I tell her as I gaze into the dark forest in front of us.

“I know you did.”

Just as I’m wondering if she feels the same way—if she’s going to tell me how she feels—Jocelyn answers my wandering thoughts.

“You can’t imagine what your kindness has meant, Chris.”

“I’m not being kind. I’m just—I’m just wanting to be with you.”

“I know. Wanting to be with me versus wanting me—there’s a difference, you know.”

“I’m not saying that I don’t want you,” I say.

“I know. I’m not an idiot.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re a good guy, Chris. Don’t ever forget that.”

She moves her head to look up at mine. I slowly move down to kiss her.

We stay there for a long time.