Part 30 (1/2)

You. Cant. Keep. Running. Away.

”I need you,” said Zavion.

Henry turned around. Brae was sitting in the exact same spot, only sideways, one set of paws up trail and one set of paws down. Part of him ready to go up with Zavion, and part of him ready to go down with Henry. Zavion s.h.i.+fted from one foot to the other. He rubbed his hands together.

If Zavion could be brave, maybe he could be brave too.

Henry walked back to Zavion.

”Okay,” he said. ”Lets do it.”

- The sky was a medium gray, like the feathers of a Canada goose. But the wind was steady and strong, so the sky kept moving, sort of rippling, like a giant hand stroking the feathers. Nothing was staying still. Not the goose-gray sky, not the trees, not the gra.s.s and ferns that bordered the trail, nothing. Henry wasnt either. He just kept on moving. He was afraid if he stopped for even half a second, he wouldnt get himself going again.

”Cmon, Brae,” he called. ”We have to go up, boy!”

Brae raced ahead of him.

The sky was getting darker by the minute. Henry followed the white tip of Braes tail like a flashlight. It was the only thing he could see. It was better that way, not seeing where he was going. Even though he could walk this trail in his sleep.

Brae began to trot, and then he ran and Henry ran with him.

”You with me, Zavion?” he yelled.

chapter 77.

ZAVION.

Henry ran ahead and Zavion panicked. A purple-gray color was inking its way across the sky. It was getting darker by the minute. And the air was thick, like soon Zavions t-s.h.i.+rt, jacket, jeans, and sneakers would be covered in that same purple-gray color. He knew the color, and knew the feel of the air. It was going to rain.

Zavion thought he might smell that musty, windy, floody smell. He looked up.

”No. I am not in New Orleans.”

He said the words out loud to keep that part of his brain-the part that might curl up into a ball and roll back to the hurricane, back to New Orleans, back home-to keep it straight and flat, to keep it connected to his eyes and nose and feet. He saw a tiny clearing in the bushes. He smelled a wet, piney, earthy smell. He felt the dirt and rock under his sneakers. He wrapped his scarf one more time around his neck. Put his hand in his pocket and felt the marble.

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.

”Im with you,” Zavion yelled back. It was hard to hear.

”Lets get off the trail,” yelled Henry. ”Well 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 someones hand. And rock outcroppings appeared out of the ground every few hundred feet, small mountains amid the trees and ferns.

”Brae!”

The way Henrys 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-s.h.i.+fted 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.

Zavions 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?”