Chapter 40

On graduation day, in the midst of flying mortarboard hats, all I can think about is Mom. I miss her in a way I haven’t before. I wish she was here.

Still . . . Dad is in the audience, along with Saff and the Chowders. The school has limited seating, so Tee and Luke volunteered to stay home and let my grandparents come. Luke gave me a crushing hug today, something he hasn’t done in a long time. Typically, I’m not a big fan of crushing hugs, but this time it felt nice.

My classmates are jumping around, like graduating high school is this major accomplishment. Or maybe they’re all just looking forward to post-event parties. I try to get pulled into their excitement.

I’m saving my graduation hat for the Minions. For their preschool graduation last week, they made adorable caps out of cardboard, and now they’re obsessed with them. It’s funny how much I relish each of their milestones. It’s almost as if I experience those moments for myself and for Mom, as compensation for all my milestones she missed. My new phone screensaver is of the Minions, wearing their cardboard caps, with their arms slung around each other.

Tee, Luke, and the twins join us for a celebratory dinner that the Chowders insist on buying.

“I hear you’re dating Alicia Johnson’s son,” says Nonna before we’ve even ordered our food.

“You hear correctly,” I say with a smile. Micah and I are now an official item. But we’re both a little scared of ruining a lifelong friendship, so we’re taking it snail-pace slow. I actually love taking it slow with him. Each step feels new and fresh and worth waiting for. I can only compare it to being super hungry and then getting a favorite candy bar. I can either cram it into my mouth and barely taste it, or I can nibble it down and savor every bite. Micah is the savoring kind. And he makes me feel like I’m worth savoring too. There isn’t the lusty intensity I felt with Axel, but I don’t really miss that. And I definitely don’t miss agonizing over whether I should escalate things to please someone else when I know I’m not ready. To be honest, I feel like I’m at my best with Micah. Like I have multiple selves and he brings out the self I’m proud of.

“He’s always seemed like such a fine young man,” says Nonna.

“He’s an upgrade for Cayenne, for sure,” Saff chimes in. I roll my eyes, but thankfully the conversation moves on without any further allusions to Axel. Our relationship has had zero closure, except for him placing a cardboard box of my random possessions on my doorstep. All things I’ve left at his place or in his car over the last year.

As I’m stuffing my face with onion rings, Dad leans over and says, “So I’ve been thinking . . . the summer term at Coast starts in three weeks, right? And they let you apply online?”

“Yeah. I was going to work on my application tomorrow, actually.” I’ve decided to get my Gen Ed requirements out of the way at community college and then try to transfer to Cal in two years. Micah promises he’ll at least try to make friends before I get there.

He nods. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“No way!”

With a sheepish shrug, he explains that he’d like to get his associate’s degree and veterinary tech certification, so that he can work as an assistant in a vet’s office. He’s enjoying the pet care component of his housesitting business, and being a vet tech would have insurance, benefits, and consistent pay. With that kind of job he might finally be able to move into his own apartment.

“That’s awesome, Dad,” I say. It’s weird—I’ve stopped thinking of him as Ryan/Dad. Now he’s just Dad. “Wanna be application buddies tomorrow afternoon?”

I haven’t seen my father smile very often, but I love the way it softens his face. “Thought you’d never ask.”

✱✱✱

“Why is this so complicated?” Dad grumbles, hunching next to me at the Chowders’ computer.

“Maybe they figure if you can’t complete the application, they don’t want you in their school.” The application process really isn’t that hard, just time-consuming. I can’t believe I might be attending the same school as my dad.

“I need a break. Want a snack?” Dad suggests.

“Sure. Something salty.” He heads to the kitchen while I browse through my social media accounts. I roll through different posts, enjoying the distraction, until something snags my attention.

Axel has posted: “Today! The biggest rush of my life. It will top EVERYTHING.”

The next big jump. Pinnacle Peak. The one we were building toward this whole time. And although I was supposed to be right there by his side, now the thought of it makes me physically ill.

It’s not my business. But no matter how hard I try, I just can’t shake this feeling of obligation that I should help him. Or try to help him. Try to stop him. What if he hurts himself or even dies . . . and I’m the only one who knew he was planning to do this? The only one who could’ve talked him out of it?

I message him. Please don’t jump.

His reply is prompt. What do you care? Don’t you have a new boyfriend already?

I don’t want you to hurt yourself.

You’re a hypocrite. We’ve been doing this together.

I know. I regret it. Please listen to me now. It’s not worth it.

None of your business, Cayenne. Go complain to your boyfriend.

I must be groaning, because when Dad comes in with a bowl of pretzels, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

I tell him. That I can’t shake this feeling of responsibility. That I can’t bear knowing Axel’s out there doing something dangerous, and all by himself. It’s not like he has parents or siblings or even responsible friends who watch out for him. His roommate is practically a non-entity, and Axel wouldn’t listen to him anyway. There’s nobody I can go to for backup.

It’s strange—never in my life would I have thought I’d be asking Ryan-the-Reject for advice. But there’s something comforting about his checkered past. He knows the impact of things going bad. He understands regret. And he won’t pass judgment on me for the mistakes that led me to this moment, the choices that put me in this position.

“Go with your gut, Cayenne.” For once, Dad doesn’t hesitate. He slips right into the fatherly advice role like it fits him. “You gotta think ahead. You have no control over what he does, but you gotta be at peace with your part of it. If you think you need to go stop him, then you should. Because no matter what happens, you have to find peace within your own choices.”

✱✱✱

An hour later, five of us are winding along the road near the Bluffs. Micah, Saff, Fletcher, Dad and me. “Thanks for the moral support,” I tell them, not sure if my nausea is from the twisty path, the crowded car, or intrusive mental images of Axel splattered along the rocks. I hope we get there in time.

“I think what you need is physical support.” Saff sits to my right in the back seat. “Your ankle can’t be ready for a hike just yet.”

“I don’t have to climb up, we’ll just park and walk in on ground level by the water.” My ankle doesn’t hurt anymore, and the walking cast has been off for a while, but I’ve lost a ton of strength and mobility. I lean forward to direct Dad toward the best parking area.

Within the first ten minutes of walking, it’s clear that I miscalculated. There’s a short path from the parking area to the water, but the ground is uneven and rocky. Micah winds up carrying me on his back half the way, and I can’t decide if I feel like a little kid or a princess.

“What’s your plan, exactly?” Saff turns around to say. Wispy little flyaways have escaped from her ponytail and circle her face.

“We just watch him jump.” I tighten my arms around Micah’s neck and try to hold myself stiffly so that I’m not too heavy for him. He smells clean, with a whiff of vanilla and coconut—probably sunscreen. “Make sure he’s okay. If anything goes wrong, at least we’ll be here.”

“And then after today?” Saff presses. “You going to follow him around the rest of his life? Like a guardian angel?” I can almost feel Micah’s ears perk up. He’s been a trooper about all this, but I’m sure he’s ready for me to cut Axel loose. Nothing like asking your current boyfriend to help you protect your ex.

“No. Just this jump. We planned this one together. I’m a part of it. I was supposed to be up there with him. If something happens during this jump, it’ll be on me.” I rest my chin on Micah’s shoulder. “After this . . . he’s on his own. I think.”

We set up camp near the water’s edge. Fletcher and Saff came prepared, cramming one backpack with a blanket and another one with drinks and snacks. While we’re waiting, Fletch teaches us all a disappearing penny trick so that we can entertain the Minions later. Only no one has a penny, so we use the dried cherries he packed. I pop mine in my mouth when he’s not looking and really make it disappear.

I keep peering up at the ledge above us, but there’s no sign of Axel. After a while, I start to suspect he isn’t going to show. He might have changed his mind.

Micah and I find a shallow area and wade in the water up to our thighs. The rocks poke at my feet and the cool water laps at my legs.

“Maybe your rescue isn’t necessary,” Micah suggests.

“Maybe. But I’m still glad we came.”

“I know.”

He reaches for my hand, and I intertwine my fingers with his. Dad watches us from the shore. Before I knew he was my dad, I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but now it makes me feel strangely self-conscious. Dad turns away. I wonder about the thousands of times he must have had fatherly feelings without my knowledge. And how many times I hurt his feelings without even realizing. I have the urge to hug him, and I decide that I will—I’ll hug him when he drops me off at home tonight.

A handful of high school kids approach, calling to each other and joking around. They storm into the water, splashing and yelling. I recognize a couple of them vaguely.

“You all here to watch the jump?” a thick footballer type asks us.

“The jump?”

“Yeah, this dude’s taking a dare. He’s jumping off Pinnacle Peak backwards.”

“Backwards?” My voice is shrill.

“Yeah.” His eyes spark with excitement. “I’m gonna try to catch it on video and I’ll post it later. I bet I’ll get a thousand hits in a day.”

“Where is he?” Micah asks, shading his eyes and looking upward.

“Betchya he’s up there already.” The footballer type readjusts his cap. “He’s supposed to jump any time now.”

I turn to Micah. “I gotta go up there and stop him.”

“Cayenne.” Micah pulls me away from the footballer and holds both of my hands in his own. “I know you want to end this, but you already tried to talk him out of it. What, do you think you’ll walk up there, remind him that this is dangerous—and he’ll just climb down? With all these people watching? He’s doing this because it’s dangerous. He invited people here because it’s dangerous. All we can do is watch and be ready in case he needs help.”

I know he’s right, but I push away from him and try to haul myself up the mountain path. I’ve only gone a few steps when I hear Axel whooping from above. Something churns inside me.

There’s no way I can get up there in time. The crew of onlookers have all whipped out their phones and are set to record.

Axel’s backed himself up to the edge of the bluff, his posture as perfect as a military sergeant’s. I have no idea how he’ll get enough distance to clear the rocks below.

I yell up to Axel, with everything in my being. I don’t even sound human.

Axel gazes down. I’m not sure if he can see me, but I’m guessing he can. But after a moment he faces backwards, bends his knees, and jumps.

Out and back.

He’s gotten more distance than I’d have thought, but I don’t know if it’s enough. He’s falling fast and hard. What feels timeless when you’re suspended in midair is only a fraction of a moment in real life. I remember that feeling of suspension, of the strange power that comes with choosing to be completely out of control, and for the first time I don’t crave it.

The water swallows him up. His splash is insignificant, and I wonder if that’s a metaphor for his contribution to this world. He’s only focused on his next big rush. Not what he can possibly do with his life.

He’s under for a long time, but I feel nothing. Something shifts inside me. While moments ago I was screaming for his life, now I feel detached from it. He is an idiot. An idiot.

Micah and Fletcher climb on rocks near his entry point, peering into the deep water. “It’s taking too long!” Micah yells to Fletcher. “He should be up by now.”

“Give it another minute,” Fletcher yells back. But Micah’s diving already, near where Axel entered. Fletcher stands on a rock, shading his eyes so that he can see deeper.

Around me, the high schoolers are hooting and aiming their phones toward the sparkling water, like this is the best show on earth. Like they don’t understand that someone’s life could be on the line.

I am sick to my stomach. How is this entertaining to them? How can this possibly be entertaining to anyone?

A head pops up. Axel. Sucking in breaths, eyes blank, as if all he can focus on is the oxygen around him. I hate him. And I hate the part of myself that ever found this fun.

Axel climbs out, dripping and still gasping, the high schoolers whooping and running toward him with their phones pointed. He lifts a thumbs-up and nods in a self-congratulatory way, like he’s accomplished something amazing.

I am flooded with something red and hot. Fury. I barrel over to him. “FUCK YOU, AXEL!” I’ve never been physically aggressive in my life, but all of a sudden I’m pummeling him. He’s so much bigger that he swats me off like a fly, but I don’t care.

“Cayenne!” Saff screams, and it’s the panic in her voice that makes me pause.

I swivel.

Fletch and Dad are dragging Micah out of the water, one under each arm. What the hell—? I rewind my brain. What happened? He dived in to go after Axel, and then moments later Axel’s head popped out. Did Micah never come up himself? How long has he been under?

He’s bleeding from his forehead. There’s a gash. Dripping down the side of his face. Did he, in his rush to help Axel, dive into a rock? His body is limp. Is it limp because he was under too long, or because he hit his head?

Saff’s dialing 911.

I am frozen.

My brain is frozen. My body is frozen. I cannot think or feel. All I can do is watch.

Fletch and Dad are laying Micah out on the sand. Fletcher strips off his wet shirt and holds it to Micah’s head wound. Listening for breath and heartbeats, tipping Micah’s head back like we learned to do in CPR.

I stand, like a freaking Popsicle, and watch.

Before they even start the mouth-to-mouth, Micah’s coughing and puking up water. A warm thought permeates my glitched-out brain. Thank god. He’s not dead.

I lose time.

Everything that happens is a fog.

No clear memory of hiking back to the car. Or the emergency room visit for Micah. Or climbing into bed. I don’t think I’ve spoken. I remember Saff helping me change out of my clothes and into sweats. Kind of tucking me into a bed that’s not my own. Telling me it will be okay.

I wake up in the middle of the night in Micah’s guest room. I wander the house in a trance, finding Saff on the couch and Micah in his own bed. I stand there watching him sleep, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. I can’t believe I pulled Micah into that nightmare. Axel isn’t his problem to fix. He’s not mine either. Because I’m done. Axel’s on his own.

Before I can change my mind, I message Axel, and I tell myself these will be my last words to him. Symbolically, I’m sealing this chapter of my life.

Remember my worst fear?

He must be up too, because he responds quickly. Yes. Losing someone you love.

That almost happened yesterday. Never again. I’m saying goodbye.

I had no control over your boyfriend jumping in, you know.

I know. That’s just it: you can’t control how your actions might affect other people. And even if you could, you shouldn’t be putting yourself in so much danger. I hate you right now, but I still don’t want anything to happen to you. Please stop with all this daredevil crap.

I’m tempted to suggest that he think about some kind of counseling, especially since he doesn’t have the kind of support network of family and friends that I’ve got. I’ve always scoffed about the therapists Tee dragged us to when we were younger, but maybe they did more good than I realized.

I start to type another text, but the longer it gets, the more convinced I am that I can’t offer Axel a solution to his problems. He’s got to be the one to figure this out.

I remember the way Saffron drew a metaphorical line in the sand, saying she could no longer invest her heart in me if I wasn’t going to take care of myself. This is the best I can do. For him and for me.

I delete the draft.

No guarantees, he texts in response to my earlier message.

Well, I hope you’ll think about it.

Right before I power off my phone, one more text rolls through. I’ll try.

✱✱✱

I climb back into bed and pull the covers up to my chin. Before I know it, I’m sinking deep into my mattress, sleep sucking me down. I sense Lorelei hovering. Perhaps it’s the stress of the day, but I have no tolerance for her taunting, tempting ways.

I reject you! I scream in my mind. You tell me the game is over, and yet here you are, refusing to let go. So now I’m saying it—the game is OVER. I’m calling it off on my own terms, so back off. I will handle my gene mutation, I will go to that support group, I will do what I need to do, okay?

Lorelei interlaces her fingers as if she’s holding on to herself.

I don’t accept you lurking at the edge of my reality, dangling my impending death under my nose. I’m done.

Finally. Her lips tilt upward in a tiny smile. You needed me for a long time.

This pisses me off, even though I understand. I needed to feel alive, I needed to know what to push against, I needed to test the limits.

And it’s funny. Because I know I created Lorelei. She’s been a part of my mind, a way to justify my death-defying stunts. Now that I’m no longer clinging to that illusion of control that our rivalry once offered me, maybe I’m outgrowing her.

I have never been out to trap you, Cayenne. I’ve been out to save you.

I nearly laugh. She’s got a freaky sense of humor. Save me? From what?

From yourself.

I slowly digest this idea. Perhaps Lorelei has never been Death, hungry for more. Perhaps I created her to tether myself to my life rather than to torture myself with the fear of losing it. Perhaps she’s been helping me survive, until I could see another way forward.