chapter 78

ZAVION AND HENRY

The purple-gray sky cracked open and the rain began to rocket down.

It was almost impossible to see. Zavion and Henry had to rely on their voices and hands to guide them.

“Are you with me?” Henry yelled. It was hard to yell into the wind.

“I’m with you,” Zavion yelled back. It was hard to hear.

“Let’s get off the trail,” yelled Henry. “We’ll be a little more protected.”

“Okay,” Zavion yelled back.

They stepped off the trail and walked into a denser, more wooded part of the mountain. The trees were close together here and their branches were like one umbrella overlapping another, and they slowed the crisscross of rain just enough for Zavion and Henry to open their eyes a little wider. Fallen logs lay across the ground, some perfect round tunnels and others caving in on themselves. Large groups of ferns fanned out like playing cards in someone’s hand. And rock outcroppings appeared out of the ground every few hundred feet, small mountains amid the trees and ferns.

“Brae!”

The way Henry’s mouth moved and his neck tensed made it clear that he yelled the name, but the word seemed to get swallowed by the thickness of the rain and the thickness of the trees, and so it sounded no bigger than a whisper.

“Brae!”

Zavion called to Brae, and his word was swallowed too.

But somehow Brae heard the boys calling his name and joined them off the trail.

The rain fell harder. Slivers thrown from the sky, the ground, the air around them, black and purple daggers, the color of a plum or a bruise. It got darker in the woods. The trees and ferns and rocks became shadows of themselves, and then they shape-shifted into other things. Scary things.

Henry saw Wayne. He saw Wayne at the start line as the sun was coming up, running down the mountain, lying at the bottom of the cliff, his bent leg, the blood, his wide eyes.

Zavion saw his Grandmother Mountain mural. He saw himself slipping on the door, slipping under the water, coming up once, flailing his arms, jerking his neck, sinking back down.

Henry and Zavion saw these things, but they kept walking. Their socks wet. Their necks wet. They kept walking until the trees became trees and the ferns became ferns and the rocks became rocks once again.

Zavion’s toe caught on something and he fell to the ground. He tried to get up, but the leaves were slippery and he fell back down before he managed to scramble onto his feet. He ran to catch up with Henry.

Henry slipped on a wet rock and crashed into a tree. He opened his arms before he hit and thwacked the trunk with his chest. Hugging the tree, he turned to look for Zavion.

The sky lit up with lightning, and Zavion saw Henry waiting for him.

The sky lit up with lightning again, and Henry saw Zavion running toward him.

Henry wiped his eyes with the palms of his hands. “You okay?”

“Honest?”

“Honest.”

“I have no idea. Are you?”

“I have no idea either.” Henry turned to look behind him. “Now where’s Brae?”

Zavion cupped his hands around his eyes so he could see a little better through the rain. “I see him. He’s over there. Under that ledge.” He wiped his eyes with the palms of his hands. “Smart dog.”

“Yeah, let’s get under there too.”

They ran.

Zavion felt, for a moment, like he was running a cross-country race.

Henry felt, for a moment, like he was racing Wayne.

They ran to where Brae lay huddled under a flat, protruding rock ledge. Henry unwrapped Osprey’s leash from his wrist and clipped it to Brae’s collar. “I don’t want you to get lost, Brae. I know you’re afraid.”

“He’s afraid?” said Zavion. He sank down onto the backs of his heels.

“He hates thunder and lightning. They terrify him.” Henry buried his face into the wet fur behind Brae’s ear. “Sorry I called you stupid,” he whispered.

The boys peered out into the pouring, pounding rain.

Henry pushed his hand into the back of Brae’s neck. “It’s okay, buddy,” he said.

“How do you know its okay?” said Zavion.

Henry stared at Zavion for a full minute. “I guess I know because of you,” he said.

“Me?”

“Yeah. Check you out. Brae’s not the only one terrified of this storm. You want to turn around?” Zavion shook his head. “I didn’t think so. See? You’re facing it. And if you can, well…well…so can I.”

“But you already are. You’re already facing it, climbing this mountain,” Zavion said. “That’s why I can.”

“Nah, you are,” said Henry.

“No,” said Zavion.

“Yes,” said Henry.

“No. No, you are,” said Zavion.

“No.”

“Yes.”

The two boys threw their Nos and Yeses into the thick, dark air, and the words hit the rain like stones, making circles that grew bigger and bigger and bigger, cutting through the sheets of water. And in the spaces inside those circles, Henry saw himself tugging on Wayne’s shoulder as he lay on the ground and Wayne opening his eyes. Zavion saw himself diving into the water and pulling up wood and shingles and glass.

The circles dissolved into the air one after another. No dissolved into Yes dissolved into No dissolved into Yes. No, Henry couldn’t save Wayne. No, Zavion couldn’t save his home.

But Yes—maybe Yes—they could help save each other.

From under the ledge, the boys stared out into the storm.

It was kind of awesome. The storm on the mountain—yeah, it was kind of awesome.

—

“Are you okay now?” said Henry.

“I think so.” Zavion put his hand onto the back of Brae’s neck. “He’s not shaking anymore. I guess he’s okay too.”

And then—

The thunder and lightning stopped.

The rain and wind slowed down too.

They took a good look at themselves. Zavion and Henry were covered with mud. Brae was too. Three brown bodies breathing hard as the rain turned from daggers to drops, as the wind died to a breeze, and as the sky became up and the earth became down once again.