Three Day Summer(48)

And that’s when I realize: It’s time for me to take the High Way. Even though the music is about to start soon and I don’t want to miss it. Even though I’m terrified about the wrath I’m about to bring upon myself. None of that really matters. How can I instruct Cora to listen to the music and let it tell her to believe in herself, when I can’t do the same thing? Everything the past few days have been telling me is that it’s time to man up, to own something that I know is the right thing to do.

Evan has already made his purchases and the group is making its way back out of the woods. I hurry to catch up with them and lightly touch Amanda’s arm. It’s the first time I’ve voluntarily touched her all day.

She turns around, megawatt smile and all. She’s probably still thinking about that necklace. I take a deep breath and watch as our friends keep going, not realizing that we’ve stopped. I ask her if we can talk.

“Course,” she says.

“This is all me,” I blurt. “All my fault.” I figure I should start this off with one of her favorite phrases. Anyway, it’s the truth.

“What is?” she asks suspiciously. “That you didn’t have money for the necklace?”

“No, not that,” I say firmly, and something about the way I say it makes her smile begin to falter. “I just . . . I don’t know why you’re with me, Amanda. I seem to piss you off all the time. And I think, I don’t know. We should be happier than this.”

“Happier?” she says slowly.

“Yes. You deserve more. . . .”

“Happier . . . ,” she says again, in an oddly detached voice. “I don’t think I understand, exactly. . . .” She tilts her head at me, blinking like a Disney doe.

I take her hand and then a deep breath, staring into her clear blue eyes. “Amanda . . . ,” I begin.

But I don’t get to finish my sentence. I get a tap on the shoulder, and when I instinctively turn around, I don’t even have time to register what’s happening before something explodes near my right eye and everything goes black.





chapter 57


Cora


From the tent, I hear Mr. Yasgur get introduced as the owner of the farm and then, after a smattering of applause, his gentle, slightly stilted voice comes through on the loudspeaker. I can practically picture him up there, with his dark curly hair and thick, square glasses, looking for sure like somebody’s accountant.

“I think you people have proven something to the world. Not only to the town of Bethel, or Sullivan County, or New York State. You’ve proven something to the world. This is the largest group of people ever assembled in one place,” Mr. Yasgur says, before going on to thank the producers of the festival and to acknowledge that the lack of food and water must have been a hardship.

“But above that,” he continues, his voice echoing across his own fields, “the important thing that you’ve proven to the world is that half a million kids—and I call you kids because I have children that are older than you are—a half million young people can get together and have three days of fun and music and have nothing but fun and music and . . .” He seems to get a little choked up. “God bless you for it,” he finishes.

I hear all the people he was just complimenting and blessing applaud for him loudly, with catcalls and whistles, just like he was one of the rock stars up on that stage. I can’t help but smile. I admire Mr. Yasgur. I’ve always liked him anyway but the fact that he did this, despite all the flack I know he got from certain members of our community (ahem, Dad). And then, on top of that, what he had to say about it all. It’s pretty inspiring.

Ned walks back into the tent then—he stepped outside to hear the speech better—and he catches me smiling. He quickly smiles back. I let our eyes meet for a moment, acknowledging Mr. Yasgur’s beautiful words more than anything, and then turn away.

A few minutes later, I can hear music start up again and I wonder who’s on. Guess my human handbill is gone now.

A man comes in and announces that he forgot to bring his insulin shots. Anna tasks me with finding the correct syringe and tells me I can administer it.

I rummage in one of the bins and find it pretty quickly. Only then do I look over at the patient. Red hair and a pointy red beard. Not wearing anything except a small pair of underwear. I recognize him from somewhere.

And then I hear a faint baaaa.

On a hunch, I take a peek outside the tent. Sure enough, there’s a sheep tied haphazardly to the post in front. Unbelievable. I’d bet anything that’s one of Mr. Yasgur’s flock, too. I’m about to go back in and give the dude a piece of my mind about animals not being playthings, when all words stop in my throat.

My mouth hangs open. All I can think is, I have déjà vu.

Approaching me are Evan and Rob, and they are carrying what looks like an unconscious Michael between them. The only thing different from the scene of two days ago is that this time the three girls lag right behind them.

I rush over to them. “What happened?” I ask Rob.

Evan points back with his thumb. “Him,” he grumbles.

I look in the direction of his finger. To my surprise, I see someone holding a blood-soaked handkerchief to his nose. It’s my brother.

“What?” I’m so confused. I go over to Wes to take a look at his face.