The Weight of Blood (57)

After another two miles, Kenny made a sharp right turn into the woods. He drove up an unpaved road and stopped at a clearing meant for parking.

“We’re here,” he said, jumping out of the truck, and ran around to open her door.

“Hiking?” Maddy asked, with a curious expression, nodding at the signage.

“It’s a pretty flat trail,” he said, noting her black ballet shoes, and grabbed an orange vest from the back seat. “Come on. I wanna show you something. Trust me, it’ll be worth it. But, here, put this on first.”

Maddy stared at the vest, her eyebrows pinched.

“Why? It says no hunting.”

He thought of the passing truck, its Confederate flag, and its victim in the truck bed. “Just . . . you never know.”

What he really wanted to say was, we’re Black, and they’d use any excuse. But he wasn’t sure how it would land or what unsaid rules she knew.

She raised an eyebrow, considering, then slowly unlocked her arms and took the vest, slipping into it. Kenny grabbed his book bag and locked up the car.

This wasn’t cheating, he told himself as he led her to the trail. He was just getting to know his prom date. The one everyone accused him of taking advantage of, somehow. This was just another way of becoming acquainted without everyone watching. Nothing wrong with that.

Maddy clumsily tripped up the trail, squeaking a “sorry” every time he caught her arm. He only chuckled. Not that he was laughing at her. He found it pretty adorable.

They walked in silence, the quiet familiar somehow. Shouldn’t he say something? Ask her more questions? But he honestly didn’t feel the need. In fact, he felt at ease.

The soundtrack of the woods replaced his music. Birds chirped and bugs croaked around them, the trail shaded by tall evergreens, their feet crunching over leaves and fallen branches. Maddy’s head moved from the right to the left, gazing upward and down. She seemed fascinated by every aspect of nature. He wondered if she’d ever been hiking before or even in the woods at all. Impossible, he thought. But he couldn’t remember her at a single class trip or in summer camp.

The sound of water grew louder. Maddy glanced back at him, uncertain.

He gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s up ahead.”

They came to a clearing in the trail, where the path led down toward a narrow cable bridge hanging over a babbling brook, surrounded by a scattering of moss-covered rocks, reeds, lush bushes, and wildflowers.

Maddy stopped in awe. “Wow.”

Kenny grinned and walked ahead. “Jason’s dad took us on a camping trip here when we were in middle school. I always remembered passing this spot.”

He took one step on the bridge and it shook, the cables creaking. Maddy jumped back, her sharp intake of breath startling.

“Naw, it’s safe,” he said, reaching for her.

Wide-eyed, she nibbled on her thumb, shaking her head.

“Trust me,” he said, offering his hand. “The view is better over here.”

Maddy scanned the cable, tucked her hair behind her ear, and glanced back the way they’d come.

Please don’t be scared of me, he thought, his heart twisting.

She met his gaze and took a cautious step forward before gripping his hand. He grinned inwardly as he threaded their fingers, a tingle in his palm, and led her onto the bridge, the metal rattling. They walked single file down the center to the very middle, where he stopped and placed her hand on the rail.

“See?”

Water trickled over the rocks, pooling beneath the bridge, the surface dark and smooth. Maddy took a deep breath, her body easing, as a pair of butterflies fluttered by.

“Reminds me of a Norman Rockwell painting,” she whispered. “Do people fish here? Like Huckleberry Finn did?”

“Uh, probably. It’s freshwater, comes down from the mountains.”

“Hm. Water can be so beautiful.”

Kenny stood beside her, itching to touch her hand again.

“I come here when I want to think. Clear my head. Get in the game.” He stole a glance of her. “Pray.”

Maddy focused on the water, her lips parting. He immediately felt ridiculous for dropping the prayer comment. Didn’t even know why he’d said it. Maybe to impress her but why was he so worried about impressing her?

“My father made me a prayer closet,” she said, her tone a bit removed. “Guess I think in there.”

“That sounds nice.”

She sighed. “This . . . is nicer.”

He measured her mood and threaded his fingers through hers. “Come on.”

He led her across the bridge to a group of flat rocks by the water’s edge. They sat side by side in silence. If she noticed him staring at her, she didn’t show it. She seemed more mesmerized by the tranquil sound of flowing water and the breeze rustling through the trees. It felt as if they were the only two beings left on an entirely different planet. The enormity of being so alone with her suddenly hit him. Self-conscious and unnerved, he started to question himself.

What the hell am I doing? This is crazy. I’ve never even brought Wendy here!

“I . . . uh, read about football,” she mumbled, staring at her fingers. “It’s a very complicated game. A violent game.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. It can be.”

“Aren’t you afraid of getting hurt?”