Don't Get Caught(25)

“We’re not international yet.”

“Give it time, Mongoose. We’re going worldwide.”

Ellie starts up the ladder, and I follow slowly.

“The last time we climbed a ladder, it didn’t work out so well,” I say.

She smiles over her shoulder. “This time’ll be better. I promise.”

The metal is cold on my hands as I scale the platform and approach the radar dish. Ellie crouches at the top, waiting for me beside a mechanism made up of two massive cogs and a hand crank. The dish is inches over our heads. Ellie stands and her top half disappears through a cut-out space in the dish right above her. She works her hands up through the hole, then hoists herself onto the dish, which thrums in response.

“You coming?”

My shoulders are broader than Ellie’s, so I have a harder time squeezing through the space, but soon I’m standing on shaky legs beside her. Above us, the moon is blindingly white and so close that it looks like I can touch it. We stand enjoying the view and the silence. The sky seems impossibly large from here, and I feel smaller than I’ve ever felt.

“Isn’t it like we’re the only people alive?” she says.

“And at the highest point on the planet.”

“My dad says there used to be other dishes here too. One there,” she says, pointing, “and another there.”

“What was it all for?”

“To track satellites at first, then something with mapping the surface of the moon. Once the government sold the land, they tore down the other dishes. I guess they forgot about this one.”

“How did your dad find out about this place?”

“It belongs to someone in our church. He comes here when he needs to think.”

“And you?”

Ellie’s fingers tighten around mine.

“I come when I don’t want to think. When the Slaughterhouse-Five thing got really bad last year, I came here a lot. I was so angry at everyone—the people calling our house and hanging up, the kids at school saying I was a book burner—that I needed a place where I could just disappear.”

“Has it gotten better?” I ask.

“Better enough. I’ve just gotten used to it, I guess. I still want the Chaos Club to pay though. They made an already-bad situation even worse. Here,” she says, crouching down, “do this.”

Ellie begins crab walking backward to the edge of the dish. I don’t think about what I’m doing. I just follow her lead and am soon lying beside her, holding her hand, our heads on the lip of the dish, staring straight up into a thousand pinpricks of light.

“I feel like I could fall up,” I say.

“Or just disappear.”

“That’d be even better.”

Her voice is barely above a whisper. “So do you like it?”

“It’s awesome. Thanks for bringing me here.”

“I’m glad to share it,” she says. “I thought you could use something special. Whenever I feel lonely, this is where I come. It always makes me feel better.”

“When do you get lonely?”

“Why does that surprise you? Of course I get lonely. And sad. And moody. I’m not always happy, Max. Who is?”

“Sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. Everyone thinks they know how everyone else is, but they’re usually wrong. People see what they want to see. It makes everything easier. If they want to think of me as the sweet, happy church girl, that’s fine because I am that way too. It’s just not true all the time.”

Overhead, the flashing red lights of an airliner cross the sky. I should be cold, but Ellie’s hand in mine and her body beside me has me warm enough to stay here all night.

“What are you thinking about?” she says.

“Watson.”

“You’re here thinking about a sixty-year-old guy? You’re weird.”

I can’t help it. Out here in nature, my mind has turned to the Write Your Name in the Wet Cement of the Universe banner over Watson’s boards and Just Max/Not Max. Normally, I wouldn’t tell anyone about that, but Ellie’s not just anyone.

“Oh, Just Max isn’t bad,” she says. “He’s nice and sweet and smart. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the Not Max side of you too. We wouldn’t all be leading these dangerous lives if he wasn’t around. Just try not to overthink this. Enjoy being here in this space.”

It isn’t long before a special sort of silence descends. It’s a warm, comfortable quiet that puts me completely at ease. I’m not thinking about the Chaos Club, who I am, or anything. I’m just in the moment and it’s perfect.

“Can we come here again sometime?” I say.

“I’ll have to check my schedule. I’m pretty busy, you know.”

“What with skipping youth group and all.”

“And my job as a phone thief.”

“And eventual toppler of governments.”

We’re looking at each other as we say all this, and I know this is when I’m supposed to kiss her. I’ve also seen enough movies to know not to ask the girl if I can kiss her. The cool guys never do. Girls like confidence, and right now, Not Max is overflowing with confidence.

I lean in and begin to close my eyes…