Three Day Summer(11)

chapter 12


Michael


Amanda is a unicorn. No, she’s a dragon. No, a rainbow. No, just lightning and stars and fire.

She is everything beautiful and terrible in this world.

I am consuming her. My mouth fits around her plump lips. We are like fish, needing the motion of our mouths to breathe. If we stop, we die. So I keep going.

It’s like I have infinite vision. My eyes are wide open and I can see every pore in Amanda’s nose, the fine blond hairs above her lip, and the thicker ones in her eyebrows and eyelashes.

But I can also see everything going on around me. Every single person, what they are wearing, who they’re with. Every fleck in the turquoise ring of the guy to the right of me. The long dark hair and red-striped dress of a girl who swishes past. Every strand of neon green grass. And I do mean every strand. I can see the water flowing through them. The molecules of chlorophyll. Hey, look, there’s Chemistry again. Or is that Biology?

Biology. I can see it. I can see life itself and a strand of Amanda’s saliva as she breathes it in and out against my lips. With every intake of oxygen, the strand is almost broken, only to be resurrected.

Resurrection. Like Easter. It’s like Easter drool. That’s what it is.

Which makes me think of Easter eggs.

Which makes me immediately pick out every pastel color I see: so many flowers on dresses to choose from. Some are peachy and some are minty.

It’s been way too long since I’ve had Doublemint gum.

Maybe I can use some now.

Maybe Amanda can use some now. It’s actually hard to tell which of us, if either, is experiencing bad-breath issues.

Though if we are sharing the same breath, does it matter?

How many breaths do we each have left anyway?

From one of my many eyes, I see a boy who can’t be much older than twelve. He’s with two people who look ancient, at least in their midthirties. The boy says the word “Dad.”

Dad. Dad. Dad. Dadadadadadadadadadadadadad.

What a strange word. And kinda funny. But also sorta sad. But also sounding like a drum.

God, I remember being twelve. And saying “Dad.” That was ages ago. So long ago and far away. It’s like I was another person, and that other person is still twelve and living in 1963. And this person is in 1969. What will happen if somehow black holes collide and the old me and new me meet? Will that cause black holes to collide?

Wait, no. I said black holes collided to make the first thing happen. So that can’t happen again as a cause if it’s the effect.

Oh! Remember when I was the master of time? Wait, maybe I still am. I can do that again.

Can’t I?

Oh my God. I’ve lost it. I’ve lost my superpower.

I’ve lost my youth.

“Ack! Michael!” I hear Amanda scream from above me. “What are you doing?”

The chlorophyll has the answers. I know it. It has all the molecules. It’s what we are all standing on, united.

It has to be in there. My youth.

If I can just dig deep enough into this soil, I will find it. I will triumph over this temporary setback.

Someone is screaming. He sounds crazed.

Oh, wait. I think that’s me. The me from two seconds ago. The me of three seconds later tells me to stop because screaming is loud and unnecessary.

But those three seconds are taking forever.

I will never stop screaming. I will never find my youth.

I will never get to the bottom of this soil.

From far above the hole I dig, I hear Evan’s voice. “Oh, man, I think we have to take him to the nurse.”

Rob’s words echo against the millions of grass strands that are closing in around me. “He’s killing my trip, man.”





chapter 13


Cora


“So a little birdie told me she saw you walking with Ned earlier,” Anna says to me as she dispenses two aspirin to a girl complaining of cramps.

“A little birdie? Who?”

“Maria,” Anna says, indicating one of the other nurses bustling away at the back of the tent.

“Seriously? There are, like, a hundred thousand people here!” How on earth could Maria pick me out? Stupid small towns.

“So . . . is it true? Are you back together?” There’s a twinkle in Anna’s eye. A part of me has always felt like it wasn’t just my heart that got broken when Ned and I split. I feel like I’ve let down my parents, Anna, and anyone else who’s ever had a soft spot for Ned. So basically everyone. Except for maybe Wes.

I sigh. “No. He’s just being his usual helpful self. Helping my parents at the farm. Helping me walk across the field.” Helping me never, ever get over him.

“Well, it starts out with helping. There’s a reason he’s hanging around you still, you know,” Anna says confidently.

I don’t want to believe it, but I’d be lying if I said that a traitorous part of my stomach doesn’t do a little flip when Anna says that.

“TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIME.” Someone is bellowing. “WHAT HAPPENED TO TIME?!”

A moment later, three guys have practically fallen into our tent, the two on the ends hoisting up the one in the middle—I soon realize he’s the one yelling.

“It’s fallen through my hands like a sieve. A SIEVE,” he practically screams in Anna’s ear.