The Impossible Knife of Memory(36)

“What could it be?”

The conversation had suddenly veered into dangerous

waters. “I don’t know. I guess we could go to the mall if we

liberated all the animals in the pet store.”

“We’d be arrested and put in jail,” Finn said.

“That could be fun.”

“No, that would screw up my chances of getting into a

decent college, which would freak my parents all the way

out.”

“It would give you the best material ever for a college

essay.”

“Our mall doesn’t have a pet store.”

“Okay, so that’s a real problem,” I said. “Liberating hot

dogs at the food court doesn’t sound as interesting. What

would you normally do on a Friday afternoon—stuff your

face and game yourself into a coma?”

He shook his head. “I’d probably head to the library. No

one uses the computers there on Friday afternoons.” “That’s pretty lame for a guy whose middle name is

Trouble,” I said. “What about the quarry?”

He blinked. “You want me to take you to the quarry?” “What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s not exactly the kind of place to go in the daylight.” “Well, duh, it is if you actually want to see it.” He looked very confused, which made two of us, and I

decided that was better than being confused alone.





_*_ 42 _*_

The quarry was closer to my house than I realized, hidden from Route 15 by a grove of old maple trees with flame-red and caramel-orange leaves. We drove past the trees onto a dirt road and started up a steep hill. The quarry was on my side of the car, beyond a tall chain-link fence and about twenty feet of dirt and rock. I felt the emptiness before I saw it.

At the top of the hill was a large plateau; Finn swung the car so that it pointed toward the fence and parked. “The view is better at night.”

“You keep mentioning that,” I said. “Will we get arrested?”

“Doubt it.” He turned off the engine. “The cops only patrol at night when the view is better and conditions are ripe for all sorts of things.”

I unbuckled my seat belt, and unlocked and opened the door.

“Where are you going?” he called after me. “Hayley?”

The fence was fairly new: ten feet tall and built with steel mesh nearly as thick as my pinky finger. I stuck my foot in a hole, reached up, and started climbing.

“Wait,” Finn said.

“You coming?” I asked.

“You’re not supposed to do that.”

“So?” I reached, pulled, and climbed.

“In fact, that sign we passed back there?” he continued.

“That definitely said no trespassing.”

I lifted my left foot, found another opening. “We trespassed by driving up here.” My right hand was just below the top of the fence.

“Yeah, but you’re taking it to another level.”

I clutched the top bar and slowly worked my feet up until I could swing one leg over, then the other, and climb down the forbidden side.

“Ta-da!” I threw my arms in the air, victorious. In front of me, uneven granite sloped up to the quarry’s edge. It made me think of an ancient map. Like if we went over the edge, we’d be lost forever in the “Great Unknown.” Here be dragons . . .

“Now what?” Finn asked.

“I’m going to walk over there and look down.” “Oh, no, you’re not.” He leapt at the fence and started

climbing. “Don’t move, don’t you dare. The whole thing could crumble.”

“I am standing on a block of granite, Finnegan. It’s not going to crumble for another billion years.”

He swung his legs over and quickly climbed down the inside of the fence, sweating and breathing hard even though he was in way better shape than I was.

“What if an earthquake hits?” He stood in front of me, right hand clenching the fence tightly, his knuckles bonewhite.

“The only natural disasters around here are blizzards. It’s fifty degrees out, so I think we’re safe for the next ten minutes or so.”

“Fracking.” He licked his lips and swallowed. “Earthquakes can happen anywhere now because of fracking. You could be walking to your seat at the movies, your face in a box of popcorn, and boom, a massive earthquake rips open the ground and thousands die.”

“Another reason to avoid the movie theater and the mall,” I said, taking a step away from the fence.

“Don’t!” he shouted. “I mean, it’s dangerous, going to the edge.”

“You don’t have to come with me.”

“I do,” he said miserably. “It’s a Man Law.”

“You did not just say that.”

“I don’t make the rules. I just have to follow them.” “That’s ridiculous and patronizing.” I took another step.

“Stop, please,” he said with a groan. “Can you do it on your butt?”

“What?”

“Like this.” He let go of the fence and sat, hyperventilating. “Scootch on your rear end. It’ll be safer. Please?”