Girl Out of Water(36)

She turns to me, eyes hard again. “What?”

“I just said ‘hey.’”

She sighs and lifts off the headphones. “Dude, I can’t hear you. What?”

I wonder if she’s fucking with me. I know she’s upset, but this shift in temperament feels extreme. “I just said ‘hey,’” I repeat.

“Is that all?”

“Look, Emery,” I pause, trying to formulate my thoughts. “Here’s the thing, you said everything is okay, but you aren’t hanging out with your friends, and you’re being, you know,” a pain in my ass, “short-tempered with me, and I know I’m not the brightest person in the world, but I’ve got to take that as a hint that everything is actually not okay.”

Her stone face wavers, eyes blinking a bit faster than usual. But then she crosses her arms and sets her jaw. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just taking a break from them, okay?”

“And I want to believe that. But if you could tell me a little about why you’re taking a break from them, I’d be more comfortable keeping this from your mom.”

Dammit. I did it again.

“You’re not keeping anything from her because there isn’t anything to keep. Nothing happened, okay?” Her voice rises. “Don’t you get it? Nothing. Happened.”

But the problem is—the more she says nothing happened, the more I’m convinced something did.





Eight


“Fuck!” I gasp as the knife slips and slices through the thin skin of my index finger. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I bring the finger to my mouth and suck the few droplets of metallic-tasting blood.

“You okay in here?” Dad pops into the kitchen.

His skin is damp from his morning run. I wave him away. “Fine, fine. Just accidentally cut myself instead of the PB&J.”

“Let me see that.” Dad gestures for my finger. I open my hand and let him inspect the small wound. He brings it close and takes his time.

Once, I think I was nine, Dad was at work and my mom was taking care of me. We were out somewhere I’d never been before, riding bicycles on this empty road, going faster and faster and faster, when I lost my balance and fell, scraping both my knees. The skin was shredded and bleeding enough to drip down my legs. I began to cry and expected my mom to baby me like Dad always did, to hush me and hold me and tell me it’d be okay. But she didn’t. She ran over, her mess of curls golden-brown in the sun, and said, “Look!”

Ahead of us was a giant downhill slope, much steeper than I’d ever biked before, injured or not. I looked back at my mom, and she was smiling and laughing, and she said, “Let’s go, come on!”

Her enthusiasm ensnared me, and the pain went away. I remember getting back on my bike and riding next to her, too excited to care about my scraped knee dripping blood all the way down the hill.

“Doesn’t look too bad,” Dad says, letting go of my hand. “Just make sure you clean it out whenever you touch that dirty skateboard, okay?”

“Okay,” I say. “Shouldn’t you be at work already?” I rinse my hands in the kitchen sink so I don’t accidently make PB&J blood sandwiches. It’s just past nine in the morning, and since the weather forecast promised a rare cool day, I’m packing lunches for the kids so we can spend all day at the park. There’s also maybe a part of me that wants to go early because Lincoln asked me to. But it’s tiny. Miniscule. Not even a real factor.

“Going in late today. Want some help with those?”

I nod, and for the next twenty minutes, Dad and I stand side by side and make pasta salad, sliced fruit, and of course, PB&Js. We work in comfortable silence. I consider telling Dad what happened with Emery yesterday, but last night she seemed to have calmed down once more. If I tell Dad I’m worried about her, he’ll tell Aunt Jackie because parents have that universal rule about never keeping information about their children from other parents. I’m concerned about Emery. Remembering the tears in her eyes still cuts at me, but I want her to trust me, and I should do the same and trust her. So I will. For now.

“You guys want a ride to the park?” Dad asks as we finish up. Parker and Nash have come to hang out in the kitchen, and I have to keep swatting away their hands as they grab bits of the lunch.

“That’s okay. Thanks though.” A week ago I would have said yes, but I’m actually itching to get back on my skateboard, muscles burning, wind whipping my hair, relishing the exhilaration my body craves.

? ? ?

The park is almost empty, which is not surprising since it’s not even ten in the morning. Emery once again heads to the skate park with us instead of going off to find her friends. When I ask why, she says none of them are here. It is early, but I still don’t believe her, yet it’s only been a day since whatever happened. It’s probably fine to give her more time to figure it out.

When we get to the skate park, she plants herself on the same bench as yesterday. I go to keep her company, but then Parker and Nash spot Lincoln and Austin by the quarter pipe and drag me in their direction. Lincoln waves at me and I get the same feeling as when a perfect overhead wave is approaching.

“Hey guys!” Austin gives Parker and Nash high fives. His cheerful attitude once again surprises me given his black T-shirt threaded with safety pins. Parker and Nash beg Austin to help them with yet another trick, and Austin agrees. All three head off toward the rails, while Lincoln stays by my side.