A List of Cages(42)

Julian’s threat might have been childish, but it didn’t shock me to hear him say it. He’s only four years younger than me, but I feel so much older, or maybe he feels so much younger. I used to think struggle was what aged you, but if that were the case, Julian should’ve been a hundred years old. Now I wonder if the opposite is true. Maybe instead of accelerating your age, pain won’t let you grow.

Eventually, I promised Julian I wouldn’t say anything, and we haven’t talked about it since, but I’ve thought about it. A lot. I’ve debated telling Dr. Whitlock even though I said I wouldn’t. I’ve thought about telling my mom. I’ve considered confronting Russell, pictured charging into that huge house and telling him to keep his fucking hands off Julian.

But in the end I didn’t do a thing.

I tilt my head toward the script in Julian’s hand. “Wow. The play’s coming up soon, huh?” He nods, climbing into the backseat. “Have they assigned the parts yet?”

“Yes. I’m the Gentleman. He’s the one who tells Hamlet’s mom Ophelia’s going crazy.”

“You got a speaking part?”

He nods.

“That’s awesome!”

“It’s only a few lines.”

“Yeah, but out of like four hundred kids you got a speaking part. That’s amazing!” He makes that face, the one that’s embarrassed and happy at the same time.

A minute later Charlie, Jesse, and Allison get in the backseat while Emerald slides into the passenger seat. She’s beautiful, hair up to expose her pale neck, wearing a short dress to expose her long legs. I smile my broken-face-smile, and kiss her while Charlie pretends to vomit. Jesse shoves his iPod into the auxiliary, filling the van with a song we actually know and like, so we have no choice but to sing at the top of our lungs.

Once I’ve dropped everyone off, I look at Emerald and she looks at me and gives me this secretive smile I have to kiss. I feel giddy, like I’ve been injected with caffeine and pixie sticks. She laughs like she feels it too, like we’re both thinking about our duffel bags hidden in my trunk.


I told my mom I was going on a hiking trip with Charlie. I don’t think she’d care that I’m really going with Emerald, but she’d ask a lot of nosy questions and offer embarrassing advice and no one needs that. Not that anything’s going to happen that would require advice. If I even think about sex, Emerald calls me out on it with psychic-level accuracy.

“So what cover story did you give your mom?” I ask.

“She won’t notice.” She says it in the flat, almost-professional way she says most things. She’s fiddling with the ring on her index finger—the one her grandmother gave her for her birthday. As far as I know, it’s the only present she got from anyone in her family.

Maybe Emerald will never be the type of person to just come out and tell me her deepest, darkest secrets—she seems to think it’s more dignified to hatch an elaborate scheme that forces you to figure her out all on your own. But now that we’re spending every free minute together, I’ve picked up on things, and one thing I know is that the cold voice pretending not to care is a lie. Maybe she really does believe parents just make mistakes, but it still hurts her that her mom doesn’t seem to know she exists.

“Emerald?”

“Hmm?”

“I see everything you do.”

She looks over at me. Blue eyes watery, she squeezes my hand.


We drive. Out of town to a higher elevation, to wider roads and a bigger sky. It’s sunset by the time we reach the cabin. I’m excited to see that it’s even nicer than it looked online, small but secluded among the most massive trees I’ve ever seen.

We spend the first day hiking, never crossing paths with anyone. It’s like we’re alone on our own planet where everything is giant. That makes us miniature, but since it’s all ours, we’re also larger-than-life.

We spend Day Two running through woods till we come across a lake enclosed by mountain-tall rocks. We jump in the green water in our underwear. We kiss underwater, which isn’t nearly as hot as I’d always thought it’d be, since I choke on the water and can’t even really feel her lips. We swim behind a waterfall and find a cave that smells like moss and something ancient. Kissing here is much better.

On Day Three we’re miles into the forest when I stumble over a tree branch. Luckily I don’t break anything, because it would suck if Emerald had to carry me out of here. While I’m recovering on a fallen log, she tells me formally that she’s ready to have sex whenever I am.

I nod and suggest we return to the cabin immediately.


Emerald is lying on her back, her hair fanned out on the pillow like a mermaid. I’ve been obsessed with her hair since I can remember. It’s always done up in complicated ropes and knots like she has a team of people preparing her for the ball. But down and loose like this, in a way that no one ever sees, is how I like it best.

It’s more than a little surreal that she’s stretched out naked in front of me, and that I’m not only allowed to look but looking is expected. She’s not making any attempt to hide her body, but she’s lying there rigidly as red blotches stain her cheeks, neck, and chest.

“You’re embarrassed,” I say, the second I realize this.

“Of course I am.” She pulls the thin sheet up to her chin. I try to tug it back down, but she’s stronger than she looks.