Take the Fall(26)

The sun transforms the woods, replacing dark shadows with a flood of light and color. Death seems like an impossibility as I listen to the squirrels and woodpeckers chatter amid the bright green leaves. I follow the hard-packed trail down the slope, increasingly alert as the water’s rumble drowns out little sounds. I jump at a flutter of movement to my left, but it’s only a couple of crows winging their way between trees. My heartbeat accelerates with my pace.

And then I’m at the top of the falls.

The air takes on a chill as I grow close, but I tell myself it’s from the freezing snowmelt. Black River Creek swells deep and cold, spring runoff gushing along the stream bed and over the rocky ledge in a single powerful jet. By August the water slows to a lazy trickle, and the shallow pool below lures everyone in town to escape the stifling late-summer heat. But for now it’s flowing high, and you wouldn’t want to be under it, let alone fall over the edge.

My skin prickles. I turn my back on the falls, scanning the stones and fallen trees dotting the clearing. It’s one of those natural places that just begs to become a hangout. Close enough to walk to, but secluded from watchful eyes. I smile, recognizing the spot back in the trees where we had our first drinks—Gretchen traded a kiss in ninth grade for two sips from a senior’s flask. More recently, she preferred a hollowed-out seat in a giant rock. It was almost like a throne. There was enough room on it for both of us to sit, but I usually let Gretchen have it to herself. Some sort of music was always playing, and if no one brought drinks, we’d just sit around talking, watching the guys leap back and forth over the creek. It was the place to be. My smile fades as I realize that’s over. Forever.

There’s a pile of flowers, stuffed animals, and notes people have left at the base of one of the rocks. I scan the small items left in tribute to Gretchen, half hoping my bracelet has found its way there. If it has, I might even leave it, let it remain as my own memento, but it isn’t among them. I can’t bring myself to read the cards or look at the pictures, so I step away.

A branch cracks behind me. I turn, lose my breath—but no one’s there. I count to ten before daring to move. Coming here seemed like a better idea in the security of my bedroom. The day doesn’t seem as bright or safe under the canopy of leaves. I scan the trees for movement, my heart racing, then hurry up and begin my search.

The dirt at my feet is tracked with hundreds of footprints, but not from any party. Big sheriff and deputy boots alongside smaller medical shoes. I wish they had scuffed the whole night from the earth, but their presence makes it even harder to forget. I inspect the nearby underbrush, keeping one eye trained on the edges of the trees. It’s hard to remember exactly where I was and when, now that it’s light. I take a closer look everywhere I see trampled plants, but the longer I search the more I understand the whole needle-in-a-haystack thing. A small silver charm on a black bracelet wouldn’t exactly stand out among the shale and soil.

I look again toward the falls, my stomach tying in knots. Even in the dark, I knew how frighteningly close I came to the edge. There’s a flat rock near the top that juts out over the pool. Gretchen and some of the more daring kids used to hang out on it, dangling their legs. I could never bring myself to join them—the height freaked me out. I creep toward it now, crouching low on the ground, sifting my fingers through moss and leaves, holding on to my last hopes.

The water thunders over the rocks beside me, sending up an icy mist. When I get to the ledge, I pause. Maybe it’s guilt, or morbid curiosity, or maybe I’m just looking for closure. I take a deep breath and lie flat, looking down into the churning pool. My stomach lurches immediately, the last moments I was here crashing back into my head. Kicking and scratching, blind in the dark, scrambling to escape, my screams drowned by the falls. But then something shifts and suddenly I see Gretchen—fighting for her life as hard as I fought for mine.

My whole body shakes.

Why would I make it out when she didn’t?

What made the difference?

I close my burning eyes, but I can’t escape the horrors of her final moments manufactured inside my head. Falling, suffocating, pinned under the icy spray. Or maybe it didn’t happen that way. If she was lucky, she would’ve blacked out when she hit the water.

There’s a hard pull on my leg and I shriek, nearly rolling off the ledge, but something holds me fast. I whip my head around to find Marcus crouched over me, his hand clamped firmly around my ankle. His eyes are wide, alarmed.

“What are you doing?” he yells.

I scoot back on my knees and he lets go, allowing me to work my way from the edge to the clearing, set away from the water’s roar. I rest my hands on my knees, my pulse hammering so hard, it’s difficult to breathe.

“Are you crazy?” he asks. “Do you have any idea how stupid that was?”

I brace myself against a tree and look away. “I know.”

“Then what were you doing?”

I look up into his face. “I just needed to see it.”

He looks toward the falls and exhales, his posture easing. I let go of the tree, my legs still shaky beneath me.

“It’s not pretty to think about,” he says.

I grimace, my body cold from the spray. “Why are you here?”

His eyes narrow. “Apparently I’m not allowed to text you. I had to talk to you somehow.”

“So you decided to follow me like a creeper?”