The Dry (Aaron Falk #1)(31)
Aaron was alone with Ellie that day, which at sixteen was a scenario he both craved and feared. He chattered incessantly, annoying even himself. But the bottom kept dropping out of the conversation, like an unexpected pothole in the road. It had never used to happen, but recently it seemed to creep into all their interactions like a fault line.
Aaron frequently found himself casting around for something to say that would elicit more than a raised eyebrow or a nod. Occasionally, he’d strike gold, and the corner of her mouth would lift.
He loved those moments. He would make a mental note of what he’d said, storing it to analyze later. Hoping to find a pattern on which he could build a whole repertoire of banter so witty that she couldn’t help but smile. So far, the pattern was disappointingly random.
They’d spent much of the afternoon leaning against the rock tree in the shade. Ellie had seemed more distant than normal. Twice that afternoon he’d asked her something and she hadn’t appeared to even hear him. Eventually, terrified of boring her, he’d suggesting tracking down Luke or Gretchen. To his relief she shook her head.
“I don’t think I could face the chaos right now,” she’d said. “It’s all right with just us, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, of course.” Of course it was. He tried to keep his voice light. “What have you got planned for tonight?”
She made a face. “I’m working.” For the past year she’d had a part-time job, which mainly involved standing disinterestedly behind the counter of the convenience store.
“Didn’t you work last night?”
“Shop opens every day, Aaron.”
“I know, but—” It was more work than usual. Out of nowhere he wondered if she was lying to him, then felt ridiculous. She wouldn’t bother.
He watched as she repeatedly tossed her key ring idly in the air and caught it, her shiny purple nails reflecting the afternoon sunlight. He was trying to work up the courage to reach up and snatch the key ring from her in midair. He could tease her gently, the way Luke would do. And then—well, then Aaron wasn’t sure what. So it had almost been a relief when Ellie threw it too high and it sailed backward over their heads.
The keys clanged once off the boulder, and they heard the metallic thump as the keys hit the ground.
Falk crouched by the rock tree and shifted position a few times until he found the right angle. He let out a little grunt of surprise and satisfaction when he finally saw it.
The gap.
“Hey, look at this.” Aaron leaned back and forth from where he was kneeling. A deep crevasse in the heart of the rock tree appeared, then disappeared as he moved to a slightly different angle. He’d never noticed it before. A single sweet spot where the base of the tree was curved out rather than flush with the rock. An optical illusion, it was almost invisible from all but one angle.
Aaron peered into the dead space. It was big enough to squeeze his arm, shoulder, and head through, if he’d wanted to. Instead, he saw what he was looking for tucked right inside the entrance. He triumphantly closed his hand around Ellie’s keys.
Falk peered into the mouth of the gap. He could see nothing beyond the entrance. He found a small stone and tossed it in, listening to it rattle off the sides. Nothing scurried or slithered out.
Falk hesitated, then rolled his sleeve down as far as it would go and dipped his hand into the inky entrance. The tips of his fingers landed on an object—small and square and unnatural—and he scooped it up. As he did, something invisible scuttled across his wrist, and he snatched his hand out. He straightened, laughing at his pounding heart.
Falk opened his palm and felt a jolt of recognition. It was a small metal cigarette lighter. Battered, weather-beaten, but still with a working hinge. Falk grinned and turned it upside down, knowing what he would find. There, in an earlier version of his own writing were scratched the initials: A. F.
Never a keen smoker, he’d had it mainly for show, and one day toward the end had hidden it rather than risk getting caught with it by his dad. Falk opened the lid but didn’t dare light it. Not in these conditions. He rubbed his palm over the metal and debated slipping the lighter into his pocket. But it felt like it belonged here, in a different time. After a moment, he reached into the gap and put it back.
Ellie crouched, her hand hot on his shoulder as she wobbled and steadied herself. She was close enough that he could see the mascara coating the individual lashes as she narrowed her eyes and peered in. Her shoulder pressed painfully into his own as she tentatively reached into the gap with her hand, checking out its size.
“That’s pretty cool,” she said, deadpan. It was difficult to tell if she meant it.
“I found your keys,” Aaron said, holding them up. She turned to face him. He could see the little specks in the corners of her eyes where her makeup had bled. She’d cut back on the booze lately, and up close her skin looked smooth and clear.
“So you did. Thank you, Aaron.”
“You’re welcome, Ellie.” He smiled. He could feel her breath on his cheeks. He wasn’t sure if he actually moved his head, or just wanted to, but suddenly her face was closer, and she was kissing him, pressing those pink lips hard against his. Lusciously sticky with a hint of artificial cherry. It was better than he’d imagined, and he pushed back, wanting to taste more, feeling the fizz and pop of pure joy.
He lifted a hand to her shiny hair, but as he slipped it gently around the back of her head she gasped a little, her mouth still on his, and jerked away. She sat back on the ground with a thump and lifted her fingers first to her mouth and then to her hair. Aaron was frozen, crouched down with his open mouth still tasting of her, as horror flooded through him. She was looking up at him.