And He Was Gone - 7. Seven

The ring of the alarm clock was all but a faint buzz, a half hearted attempt. I was awake but falling, sweat pouring from my forehead, false gravity tugging at the tendons beneath my muscles. Thump. With great difficulty, I pulled myself out of the sheets, scratching the remains of the nightmare from my head.

Breathe.

I stood by the mirror for a long time, erasing shadows, guns, the thick scent of blood from my eyes, and drew a long sigh. Most nightmares I could wake up from, but the worst were the ones that gripped you even while you were already awake, mixing in with reality.

I took a quick shower, pulled on jeans, a white tank that’ll keep me cool during our hike and one day camp, and the rest of my gear. The unfinished homework was left on my desk, a note explaining to mom that I had left early for the bus stop and a bowl of half finished cereal on the kitchen counter.

Mark was waiting for me at school’s entrance when I arrived. With a faint jolt, I realized that he hadn’t been here Monday. A frown creased my lips when I studied his expression. There was guilt.

I paused. “Hey. What’s up?”

He crossed his arms. “Uh… nothing much.”

“Where were you on Monday?”

“Home. Sick.”

“Yeah well, you also told Ms. Bridge your dog ate your homework.”

He seemed to shuffle uncomfortably under my inquisitive stare, but it wasn’t until he had actually released his words, that I remembered. “Listen man… I’m sorry about last Friday. It wasn’t cool that I ditched you… And well… You know Tom…”

He groped around for a suitable excuse, failed, then faltered. I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. It don’t matter.” Then checked my watch. “Wanna hurry up? I don’t want to be late for the camping trip.”

We pressed through the doors, through the thick strings of people, and into the lounge where the huge throng of gathering tenth grader’s resided, chatters falling silent when Coach cleared his throat through his megaphone. I resisted the urge to search for Devin, and instead focused on Coach’s tight and forced words, only to sigh with impatience. It was the exact same as usual -- Make sure to stay in your designated group; you have been informed that this is a one and a half day trip, and we will be back the next day before lunch break; did you bring sunscreen?

It was finally, when Mark and I started to hook Coach’s words with our own set of charades, that I spotted Devin cutting through the bodies and towards me, a wide grin that lit the air surrounding in bubbles of light. I subconsciously returned his smile and beckoned him over, while Mark studied me questioning from the corner of his eyes.

“Old man needs to get some sex.” Devin yawned, stretching his arms high in the air and eyebrows rippling at Coach’s forced demeanor. “See how he’s so tensed up? It’s bad for your spirituality. Do you know where we’re going?”

“Nope.” I replied, very honest. “Somewhere not too far down south I think, into the elevated forest areas. At least that’s what Ms. Coel told us.”

“Our science teacher?”

“Yup.” I shrugged. “Said the trip would be a great enclosing to our unit in biology.”

“Who’s that?” Mark interrupted, as though he wasn’t right in front of his face. Rude, but typical. He tends to become rather hostile to strangers. I hesitated, brows furrowing, but Devin took over smoothly, extending his hand.

“Hi Mark, I’m Devin. Shawn talks about you a lot.”

“I do?” I cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes you do.” He smiled sweetly, and even though Mark still held suspicion within the bowels of his demeanor, he visibly relaxed.

“You’re new, aren’t cha?”

Devin nodded. “Yah. I just moved here from the small suburban up over from the East a week ago.” Then stopped, just as Coach concluded his speech. The crowd of students cheered, and it was deadly mosh pits all over again. The ‘Orderly Fashion’ routine was quickly shunned aside, and I lost Mark in the process. Not that I cared. The ditching-your-best-friend-in-the-middle-of-crisis act was pretty unimpressive.

“Dude,” Devin yelled through the midst, shoving groping arms and probing tongues aside, “This place is like way overcrowded.”

I grinned. “Most of the schools here are like this. This is considered pretty damn mild.”

“Mild? Peppers with that?”

“None.” I assured. “I’ve visited one twenty miles from here with so much people, you can reach in a guy’s pants, slice off his dick, and it’ll take about three hours for the authorities to show up.”

“And you’ve tried?”

“No, I’m a witness.” I was dead serious too.

Devin’s face was inscrutable, but he grabbed my forearm and football tackled a path out through the rest of the way, his left hand thrown protectively over his groin. I laughed, winked as we whisked past a quizzical Stacy Mars, slapped high fives with familiar and unfamiliar hands, and reluctantly pulled my arm free from his warm grasp when we burst through the doors, sunlight dancing, yellow buses humming in welcome.

**

The bus ride was long, but not the least bit tiring. Our destination kept us all awake -- and hyper. Bottled beers flew around unattended, bodies soared on arms, and there were even a few pairs having quickies in the backseats. I spent the majority of the time entertaining the cheerleaders through all the noise, and watching Devin.

I smile when I think about it, the way he zooms from aisle to aisle like a puppy, making a few friends here, exchanging words there, stealing hearts everywhere. He kept looking back at me and grinning like I was his owner or something, which gave extra doses to those vicious butterflies in my stomach. Perhaps they weren’t butterflies, after all. Maybe they were bombs.

“Beer?” Devin proffered to me, after he had finished juggling half a dozen cell phones and settling down.

I broke away from Stacy and slumped back in the seat. “No thanks. I can barely walk in a straight line. What the hell happened to adult supervision?” I added, eyebrows up in amusement when the people seats behind began to pulsate in the early stages of a massive orgy.

“Somewhere there.” He pointed to Ms. Bridge, who was asleep, and at the driver, who was trying to work the broken P.A. system and shooting glances behind at the other buses. He laughed. “Do you have your gear? I heard it’s gonna be a pretty difficult climb.”

I shuffled uncomfortably. “Nah. It’s gone.”

He looked at me from the corner of his dark eyes. “Gone? As in, gone you left it at home?”

“My mom and my brothers incinerated my boots and broke my tent ‘coz I pissed them off.” I shrugged, and frowned when a touch of concern streaked across his face. It wasn’t sympathy, but I didn’t come on this trip for therapy, and so averted my eyes to the window, subconsciously scratching at the bruises on my knees when my brothers had shoved me face first out from the house.

Devin didn’t say anything though; nothing sharp, nothing sappy, just brought me in a brief hug, a brief smile, and got up to ask the driver how much longer we were to arrival, his strong back rippling as he walked.

As if on cue, our ride lurched to a stop, announcements ringing. The bus exploded in a new wave of frenzied cheering, and Ms. Bridge passed around our papers we had to fill out on our trip, and reminding us of the precautions we had to take, but in a very quiet voice. I was pretty sure she wouldn’t mind that much if one of us toppled over a cliff.

And in the next few second, all of the buses were drained of the wild students, and we were on our way, branching off to the many different trails in our small groups like ants swirling through their nest.

I admit, although I’ve never actually been in a forest before, it was amazing how quiet it was -- at least through the first hour of our walk. It was as if the tall trees themselves held an invisible force, sealing lips and stitching cloth onto the bottoms of our feet. The scents of dirt, dust, rock and leaves whirled in a sharp but soothing cacophony through our noses, prickling our ears into full alert onto any sounds. It was eerie, but not uncomfortable.

Eventually, as our ascent became steeper, it grew warmer. Humidity clogged the air and fatigue pounded into our heads, complaints rippling behind. I looked over at Devin, as he pulled himself over rocks and fallen logs, cropped hair damp, lips folded in exertion, amber eyes narrowed to a feral snarl. He looked so powerful, as though he was one of wild; effortless and free, unshed feathers beneath the strong muscles of his shoulders. It was kind of creepy, but when he turned around to offer me a hand, his cheerful smile broke through the vast mask. I shivered, grinned back, and brushed past his hand with a leap equal to his grace past the jagged indent in the earth. We stood back and watched the rest of the class clamber laboriously across, stifling laughs when Ms. Bridge fell face-first into a bush.

“You hear that?” Devin asked, after pulling a fallen student to her feet.

“What?”

“That.”

I shook my head, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“Sounds like… water. Maybe a river or something. I’ll guesstimate about five something miles from here.”

I stared, trying to open my ears further beyond the pressing silence and soft thumps of the cracking footsteps behind. “What are you? Some kinda rabbit?”

He stared back comically. “Do I look like one?”

I sized him up with a single sweep of my eyes, appreciating the way his white T-shirt clung dampened onto his built frame, broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist, drab green cargo shorts, skin that glowed like dark sand in the forest light, and resisted the sudden impulse to strip him naked and sex him until the bears came around for hibernation.

“No. Not really.” I admitted, and he grinned.

Sure enough, the faint churn of water reached my ears soon enough and I stopped to survey our surroundings. We had reached the rockier parts of the forest, and spires of stone rose around us, carpeted in moss and vines. The rasp of cicadas and birds seemed to erase the silence that had been deafening only moments ago. It was like standing in an ancient, weathered cathedral where the only source of light was from green stained glass.

I looked back. The rest of our group was still far behind, toiling in the heat.

“Shawn.”

Devin was standing at the edge of where our outcrop sliced away, and was looking down with widened eyes.

“What’s up?”

“Look! Ain’t it awesome?”

I strode beside him and felt the breath catch in my throat.

Awesome was quite an understatement, really.

I’ve never taken in much particular interest in the beauty of nature, whether it’d be a particularly golden sunset or four rings of rainbow, but this was a little piece of heaven. For the countless sheets of waterfalls cascading side by side down into a bowl of clear water, the sound wasn’t all that loud. I wondered how Devin was able to hear the trickle from so far away.

The spray of the hundreds of falls caught the light, so each droplet was gold as they spilled from the exposed flesh of the outcrop, viridian as they drank in the sky of the leaves, and in turn drained clear as they melted into the bowl of swirling water below.

Of course, pictures of paradise in traveling ads may be more gorgeous than this little pool of ringed cascades, but this was real. And as I looked into Devin’s eyes, practically overflowing with excitement, I knew this was as real as it was ours.

He pointed down and laughed. “Look! Trout!”

I stared down into the depths of the water, and sure enough, there was fish, moving in a storm of silver arrows. I grinned. “How did those things get here?”

“There’s probably some kinda opening to a river in the bottom of the pool or something.” He said, very matter-of-factly, circling the edge of the rocks, then, “Wanna go fishing?”

“With what? Our hands?”

“Yop.”

I laughed. “You’re crazy man.”

“C’mon, I’ll show you how.” He grabbed my arm and together we treaded the staircase of stacked stones, descending carefully until we reached the thinly lipped bank of the pool.

He briefed me on the things not to do, and where to grab the fish so it can’t escape. Then, he demonstrated.

“It’s never gonna work.” I said doubtfully, holding still, and watching as he lay flat on his belly and edged to the brim of the water, upturning his hand into the weeds.

“You doubt my skills?”

“What skills, rabbit?”

As if to answer my question, his body jolted as he flicked a single fish from the palm of his hand, thrusting the wriggling thing into my chest. I threw out my hands instinctively and caught it, blinking stupidly.

“Fuck!”

“I know bro.” Devin saluted. “Not too bad for a rabbit, heh?”

I shook my head incredulously, set my expression straight, and folded myself into a crouch. “If you can do it, I’m sure I can.”

“Oh yea?”

“Yea.”

“I’ll challenge you to grab one on your first try.”

I frowned at his cocky expression, and then shot back one of my own. “Alright. It’s on.”

Slow and steady wins the race, I chanted in my head, running the tips of my fingers down into the brim of the pool, cuticles brushing the glassy weeds, coiling myself into ready position. Then I waited.

It was weird, bent over in the bottom of a cylinder of rushing waterfalls, waiting for a fish to swim close enough over my fingers. And man did it take long.

I soon lost my concentration, and instead focused on the mirror reflection of Devin on the surface of the water, his beauty undiminished, even in the curling shadows of the trees. I liked his jaw, I decided, smooth and streamlined; and his lips, with a tickle of a curve at the corners, hinting the broad set of milk white teeth beneath. I liked the way his brow bone shadowed his eyes, and how his eyelashes in turn misted his golden irises. He was the sky, the wind, crushed leaves and sunlight all in one.

…Was he staring at my ass?

“Shawn.” He whispered and nudged me softly, driving my attention back to the task -- the challenge -- and I stiffened. A single trout was in reach, belly brushing the tip of my thumb, smooth, cool, revitalizing.

Was it completely unaware of my presence?

I decided not to take any risks, and slowly, laboriously, stretched my fingers until the palm of my hand was resting around its head. I knew how fast they were, and even in this position, I was sure it could still slip away. I could almost feel Devin’s heartbeat behind me.

Breathe.

Action!

Not wasting a single second, I dug my nails into the head of the fish, surprising it, and before it could wriggle its way to freedom, I slapped it sharply out of the water, flicking my arm, then my wrist, and flung it effortlessly at Devin. He caught it instinctively, staring with wide eyes as the spray sprinkled us. I grinned.

“Not too bad, heh?”

“Damn!” He laughed weakly, fingering the struggling slice of silver in his arms, “What are you, some kind of bear?”

I cocked my head. “Do I look like one?”

**

We reached our designated camping site at sunset. The majority of us were grimy, bruised, and downright completely exhausted, but when we climbed the last shelf of the emerging mountain, the surprise presence of cabins brought us back into life.

Before long, minus drugs, the flat burst into a full fledged party, speakers from the cabins throbbing, booze running, contours shivering in the reddening glow of the sun; rays throwing the landscape from green planes and outcrops to dark spires and silhouettes.

Normally, I would’ve wedged myself in between grinds and laced together pairs during the slow beats, but that day; that hour; those moments, I needed quiet.

And so I strayed away from the pulsing crowd, leaving the jeers, the shouts, the laughs behind and drinking in the grinding of the crickets, the whisper of the owls, and the whistle of the wind. The shelf itself wasn’t very big, but there was at least half a square mile that was forested that separated our camp site into two sections; and so I went into there too, counting my footsteps and when I found a comfortable enough boulder, sat down and just flew off into space.

It was really nice actually, to take a break from it all once in a while -- though I knew my break wouldn’t last. Devin might be looking for me -- and that alone made me want to race back into the whirlwind of flesh and beer just to catch a glance of him.

I was just about to go, when the faint wisps of hushed voices caught my ears.

It was a long grumbling, but there was menace in their voices, and when the scratch of a switchblade snapped through the air, I stiffened and slipped behind a tree, fingernails burrowing into the bark.

I expected drunken voices, actually; long slurred words, knotted ends and chortle capped sentences-- but when I realized they were completely sober, I held myself even more still, peering out to survey the scene.

There wasn’t really away around them, I noted, without exposing myself. I frowned irritably when the knives kept flicking in and out, like fingernails sniping at fresh paper, debated whether or not to just to run back to our camp site. There was no trouble, honestly. I’m pretty sure I can outpace them if they decided to give chase. I scanned their rigid faces, clipped sideburns, crew cut hair, freshly turned earth and dried blood on their shoes, and smirked. This could be fun. Plenty places to hide, and it was a chance to even the numbers back at the fight when Mark ditched me.

I didn’t even care if they had guns -- there was no way they could get a clear shot in this thicket, and as well, the staff and others would be notified immediately if they opened fire. I screwed my eyes tighter, recognized Trevor and a few other tenth graders, analyzed my position, stooped down to pick up a fist sized stone… and froze.

Someone had said Devin. His name alone was enough to loosen the tendons in my knees, and I found myself edging closer to listen.

“…What do you have against him, anyways?” One of them was inquiring, rings in his lobes glinting in the dim light, “It’s not like he caused us any real trouble.”

“Of course he hasn’t,” A soft voice, “Not yet. One way or another, he doesn’t belong here -- and don’t question me on that, unless you want your brains intact.” A deliberate pause followed, and in turn, a demand. “Well, what do you have on him?”

Grumbles.

“Spill.”

There was reluctance, but no disagreements. “He rents an apartment by himself,” The pierced one was saying, “Has no siblings, and both of his parents are dead -- don’t ask me how, ‘cause I don’t know.”

“Where’s his apartment?”

“I don’t know. Why does it matter? By the looks of it, he’s not staying for long anyways. Well, that’s what the pussy Mark told me --”

Mark?

“It matters, ‘cause this is our school, our neighborhood -- our territory. Is it not? Do you let shit crawl into your home?”

“I…”

“Do you?”

“I…”

“Or are you just afraid?”

In the silence that slipped in between their breaths, I released the one that I was holding and sank into a crouch. Blood rushed into my head as I tried to work out what was going on, and what this could mean. The possibilities ran through my head, but at that moment, I could only grasp the main link; deep shit.

“I’m not.”

“Say what?”

“I’m not afraid.”

Triumph snaked through the one with the soft voice, and he smiled. Even from here, I could make out the pearly set of paper white teeth, the sharp blue eyes, the fair skin, the blond hair.

“Any ideas?” He had continued, gazing expectantly at his comrades. They shrugged.

“We could set him up,” One suggested, “Since he doesn’t have a family to back him up… but the people here like him.” Then added venomously with a dollop of envy, “The way Stacy and the others were looking at him… Fuck.”

“He’s going to take everything away from us, right?”

“Not if we can help it.” Another added quickly.

“How are we gonna help him?”

“Knives.”

Tom was smiling really widely by then. “Twelve o’clock. Most of them should be either too wasted, or too tired. Staff and supervisors included.”

Murmurs of agreement finalized their decision, even though there were more protestations. Some heard over the radio of chances for a summer storm tonight, so wanted to put off the ambush until later, but all agreed in the end that they could work this out as an advantage.

They eventually filed out of the forest like reapers to their designated victim, leaving me still as a tombstone.

**

I was afraid. It was a simple fact, cut down to the very core. Chances are, one would probably never hear those words coming from my mouth, but there I was, repeating it to myself so I wouldn’t stop running.

Sunset had struck by the time I returned to the camp site, and I made extra care not to let Tom or his goons see me slip out of the forest for the party had died down, and bodies were out, in and around, setting up tents and positioning them according to the staff. With the fiery sunlight, the working figures painted a picture straight from the Impressionism period.

Devin wasn’t in sight, so I spent the last few hours of the evening eavesdropping on Tom, shoulders tight, then loosening slightly when I heard he was being deported to campsite B, which was on the other side of the forest… hopefully where Devin wasn’t going to be.

I paced around for a few more minutes, suspended in the state between anxiety and numbness, debating on whether or not to warn the members of the staff, but decided that was a futile attempt; my bitter reputation amongst them would not help in this situation in the least bit.

Now what?

Should I warn Devin?

The answer was obvious, but when I turned, responding to the hand that brushed my shoulder, finding him beaming at me, beer in one hand, a drunken but still beautiful smile beckoning for me to help him set up our tent, I couldn’t bring myself to speak up.

~