Part 18 (2/2)

”So do you,” I murmur. Oh, was that a stupid thing to say? I turn my face into his jacket and breathe in his scent.

”Hey, are you okay?” he asks, I straighten up and nod. ”Fine. Better than fine, actually.” I feel shy all of a sudden.

”Good,” Damian says, a satisfied grin spreading over his face. ”So, how about London? When do you leave?”

”I don't think I'll be going, I'm afraid.” I sigh and scuff my boots against the ground, letting the tire rock back and forth.

”Your mom?” Damian prods.

”Yeah. I need to get her to sign a permission form. And as we all know, that's about as likely to happen as Mr. Wyatt's horses growing wings,” I say sarcastically, ”Well, we need to strategize. There has to be a way to get you to London.” Damian's brow wrinkles in concentration.

”Unless I can get my dad to sign it in his zombie-like state, it's never going to happen for me. Unless ...” I have an idea. I'm certain it's a bad one, but it could work.

”Unless what?” Damian asks eagerly.

206.

”Unless I sign the form myself.”

”What do you mean?” Damian's confusion is evident, scrawled all across his face, etched into his eyes.

”I mean, I could forge her signature,”

”But then what? What happens when it's time to go?”

”Then I just go.” A c.o.c.ky sureness is growing inside me. I could do this. I could do it and get away with it. Just leave and finally slip out from underneath my mother's controlling thumb.

”Cor, I don't know, I don't think --”

”Damian, I don't really see any other options. Do you?”

He looks at me pleadingly, then drops his gaze.

”Look,” he mutters, ”just promise me you won't do anything rash just yet, okay?”

”Fine, I promise.” It is as though a chilly frost has fallen down upon us, hangs in the air between us. In an instant, this discussion has opened up a chasm between us, like a paper cut. Narrow, almost invisible at first, until the blood begins to pump to the surface, and the cut widens, becoming painful.

”I just don't want you to do something stupid,” Damian says warningly.

”How is it stupid? If I don't go --” I take a deep breath and look into Damian's eyes. ”If I don't go, I will die.” I want him to understand; I need someone to help me know what to do.

”I don't want to fight, Cor,” Damian says, reaching for my 207.

hand. ”Just promise me you'll wait a while. And that you'll talk to me before doing anything irrevocable, okay?”

”I promise you,” I reply, squeezing his hand and smiling into his gray eyes. He leans over to kiss me again, and this time I bring my hand to his cheek, which is cold and rough. ”I promise,” I repeat.

”I'm freezing here,” Damian says, pulling back. ”Let's walk?”

”Let's walk,” I agree.

We disentangle ourselves from the tire swing and begin to walk, muddy snow squirting and squirching beneath our feet, toward the baseball diamond. Damian holds my hand.

”You know, all of this just makes me wonder, what are we supposed to do?” I tell him.

”What do you mean?”

”I mean, am I meant to just eat, sleep, go to school, do what my mother says, work, and then, someday, die? Is that all there is to life? To living? Because something tells me there is more to it than that. More to it than just existing like an animal. Might as well be a cat if we're just supposed to eat, work, sleep, and die.”

”Well,” Damian starts slowly, ”no, I don't think that's all we're meant to do. I mean, I think that's probably part of it. But I think we're put here to do more than just exist. We're meant to live. To experience and to create. To sense, to taste, to see things and make new things. To love.”

208.

”That's what I think,” I tell him. ”Life is supposed to be about pa.s.sion, but how am I supposed to know that, to experience it, if I'm stuck here?” Damian looks down at the ground. Oh, I've put my foot in it. ”No, Damian, that's not what I meant. I mean beyond this town, beyond high school. What about when we grow up? My family has always lived in Lincoln Grove. My parents were born here, their parents, too. Not one of them has ever lived anywhere else. How can staying in this one tiny town be living and experiencing life to the fullest?” I ask.

”Well, I would guess that it works differently for everybody,” Damian explains. ”I would guess that for you and me, living has a very different meaning than it does for our parents.”

”Maybe. I guess that makes sense. I just think that if I can't get to London, I will shrivel up and then I might as well be dead. You know what I mean?”

”I think I do,” Damian says, looking off to the tree line. ”Yes, I think I do.”

”Damian, could I ask you something?” I am hesitant to go on, but at his questioning nod, I take a breath and continue. ”What happened in the car that night?”

Damian sucks in a sharp breath and winces. His eyebrows climb into his forehead and crash down, casting shadows over his eyes.

”We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to,” I say quickly.

209.

”No, it's okay,” he says, pulling me down beside him on a snowy-damp bench next to the baseball diamond. ”It's all right,”

”Are you sure?” I ask. Damian nods, then begins to talk.

”Nate, you know, was really ticked off because Julie had just broken up with him. Over the phone. And he called me and said, 'Hey man, I just have to drive, but I don't want to be alone.' And he asked if he could pick me up, and I said sure, and then he was driving so fast, and I started to get scared when he pulled out onto the county road and you know, as he drove out of town, he started flying all over the road, and I kept asking him to slow down, telling him 'Man, just take it easy,' but he wasn't listening. It was like some demon just took over, and then he looked at me and said, 'Here's a new trick,' and he switched off the headlights, and I was shouting at him, telling him to stop the car, to just pull over, but he was somewhere else, and then all I can remember was this horrible rending screeching cras.h.i.+ng sound. Like the tree was screaming. Maybe it was me screaming. And then I pa.s.sed out. That's it.”

Damian shakes his head, and his eyes are s.h.i.+ning with tears that he wipes away roughly. ”I tried to make him stop, and he just... he just wouldn't. I replay that night over and over, trying to figure out how I could have made him pull over. How I could have pulled up the emergency brake or grabbed the wheel. Something. Anything. But I did nothing, and he's dead 210.

because of it.” A veil of tears clings to his eyes, and he blinks, trying to shake them loose. I feel my nose and my own eyes leaking.

”Damian, you did everything you could. I know Nate. I know how stubborn and pigheaded he was. I know. There's nothing you could have said to convince him to stop. And I just...” A sob shudders through me. ”I am just so grateful that he didn't kill you, too.”

I wrap my arms around Damian's neck and pull his head down to me, and we stay like that, huddled together, crying and breathing each other in, until the sun has nearly set.

”You should get back,” Damian says. ”Or your mom might get upset.”

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