The Love That Split the World(33)

Beau shrugs. “Aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?” I say, taken aback.

“Just seems like all parents start out thinking their kids are a part of them, another mouth they’ve gotta make sure eats, another body they’ve gotta get dressed. And then one day, our parents look at us and notice we’re whole people. We’re not a part of them anymore, even if they’re a part of us. And for the ones who never really wanted to be parents anyway, that’s probably a relief. But for a mom like yours—I don’t know, she must’ve been sad when she realized your life was gonna be different than hers. She must’ve been scared when she realized she wasn’t gonna be able to protect you, and that you were gonna deal with things she never did.”

“Yeah,” I murmur. “I guess, but as a kid it still felt horrible to be different from her. It didn’t feel normal. I think I, subconsciously, spent the majority of my childhood trying to make that feeling go away. I joined the dance team, learned to laugh off jokes about me talking to wolves or catching fish with my bare hands. Made a point to insert myself in the middle of the social scene, and started dating this really popular guy . . .” I trail off, thinking of the time after Grandmother left, when it was just me, alone in a world I was obsessed with fitting into. No more quiet moments when the rest of Union had fallen asleep and I’d lie awake listening to her stories wash over me in her gravelly voice, filling me up with drops of truth and color. Pieces of myself. I realized then I didn’t know where the fake me ended and the real me began.

“I don’t know. It’s hard being surrounded by people—generally good people—who don’t get it, who think I’m uptight and weird whenever things bother me. I mean, sometimes it’s like people assume I’m like them in ways I’m not, and that sucks, but other times they think I’m different in ways I don’t feel different, and that sucks too.”

Beau thinks it over for a long moment, then says softly, “That why you’re leaving for your fancy school?”

“Maybe,” I admit. “It’s hard to feel like you belong when you don’t know who you are, and it’s hard to know who you are when you don’t know where you come from.”

“Maybe you’re just lucky.”

“Lucky? How?” I ask. “You can’t imagine how hard it is to not see yourself in anyone around you. Or to be constantly encouraged to look.”

His shoulder shrugs under me. “And you don’t know what it’s like to see yourself in people you don’t like. You’re just you—no deadbeat dad, no alcoholic mom, no family curse.”

“Or maybe I’m still made up of all those things, and I’m just good at pretending.”

“You know what I think?” he says.

“Football?” I guess, and he laughs silently.

“That,” he says, “and I think you belong here more than anyone I’ve met.”

“Whaaaaat?” I say, sitting up again. “Why?”

“I just do.”

“You just do.”

“I do,” he insists.

“Well, fahn.”

“Fahn.” After a minute, he says, “You got any more stories, Natalie Cleary?”

I tell him about the Girl Who Fell from the Sky. Then I drink the last beer and tell him about the Vampire Skeleton and the Ghost of the Tetons and the Ghost House Under the Ground.

I’m just finishing the story of Brother Black and Brother Red, when my phone vibrates in the grass beside me. “Hold on a second,” I tell Beau.

When I sit up to answer Megan’s call I realize the sun is starting to rise, the sky fading to a deep blue. We’ve stayed out all night, and I can’t decide whether it’s felt like minutes or days. “Hello?” I say.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Megan whispers.

“Why are you whispering?” I ask.

“Brian and I fell asleep at Matt’s. I’m leaving now. Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine—I’m at the football field.”

I hear a door close, and she resumes her normal volume. “Oh my God, Nat. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, so, so, so sorry. I’m on my way. Don’t move.”

“I can take you home,” Beau says beside me.

“Who was that?” Megan squeals. “Was that him? He sounds like a subwoofer!”

I cup my hand over the phone. “It’s Megan. She’s still at Matt’s,” I tell Beau. “It’ll only take her a second to come get me.” He nods, and I uncover the phone. “See you in a minute,” I say.

Beau and I gather the cans and toss them over the fence with the football, then climb back over. Again he catches me on the far side, but this time there’s no hesitation. He eases me back against the fence and kisses the corner of my mouth, his hands tightening on my hips. Light sifts through the trees, yellowing with the dawn, accentuating the golden-brown ring around his greenish irises.

Even though this has been all night coming, when Beau pulls back, I still feel shy and dumbstruck. “Thank you,” I’m horrified to hear myself say.

He laughs and touches my hair. “Anytime.”

In the quiet of morning, I can hear Megan’s car pulling onto the street that runs behind the far side of the field and leads to the parking lot. I release Beau and look back. Megan parks at the top of the hill beyond the stadium, lowers her window, and waves.