Текст книги "Rock"

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and I drag myself to mine.

My sleeping bag is damp from the night air and the wet rocks. I shiver as I curl into a tight ball to

keep warm. My teeth chatter uncontrollably.

I’m too tired to fumble around for more clothes. Jace stirs and I curse my shivers for waking him.

His adorably sleepy voice says, “Huh? You cold?”

“I’ll be fine,” I murmur, except it comes out as a chattering of teeth.

Ziiiip. Jace lifts his sleeping bag. “Come in here. I’ll keep you warm.”

“S’okay.”

“Don’t make me drag you in here, Cooper.”

Will he really drag me in there? I can’t say it sounds terrible, but sleeping next to a pissed off Jace

who can’t sleep doesn’t sound better. I pull my damp bag over to Jace. I slip one leg inside his opened

bag and the warmth instantly cocoons my skin. I fold my body in all the way. His hot skin touches my

arms and legs.

“Mmm. Better,” he says, eyes drooping shut. “Better close the zipper or your back’ll get cold.” I

twist to follow his instructions, but Jace quickly threads an arm over my side, finds the zipper and

closes it.

My body refuses to ignore this intimate closeness with Jace’s body. To stop a burgeoning erection, I

shut my eyes and catalogue my favorite fifty stones, half of which have memories of Jace imbued into

them.

I’m wide awake and warm again. Jace’s eyes shut and his mouth hangs partly open. His chest rises

and falls evenly, and I feel it against my own. I’m glad he’s asleep so he doesn’t notice my heart

hammering against my ribs, my inability to breathe, or my shivering when his leg shifts between mine

and pins me down.

My mind wanders to the magazines under his bed. I sigh, and sleepiness settles heavy and warm

over me.

I’m hiding in a cave in the bush. I need to think. I hear Jace singing by the creek. Low and

soft, his voice vibrates through the ground to my feet and into my body. I’ve never heard him sing

before, but it’s beautiful. I don’t want him to stop. I sit on a tree stump and absorb the sad, sweet,

familiar-sounding song that I’ve never heard before.

chalk

A week later, Annie and I go to Mum’s after school. I wonder how long it’ll be before I clutch the

triangular chalk in my pocket like it’s a lifeline.

“You’re unusually quiet today,” Annie remarks, opening the gate for us. “You all good?”

We shuffle up the path. “I’m fine.”

“Sure about that?”

I nod. “No.”

She loops an arm through mine and whispers, “Are you going to tell Mum?”

I resist grabbing my stone this soon. “Maybe.”

“Want me to be with you?”

I shrug. “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

“I can wait in the study—just signal me if you want me to come out.”

Annie’s keys jingle as she unlocks the front door. “Hey Mum, we’re home!”

Mum yells back. “In the kitchen!”

I kick off my shoes and beeline toward the scent of freshly-baked cookies.

The flour-covered kitchen is a mess of bowls, wooden spoons, and trays. Mum smiles and wipes

her hands on her apple-print apron, which reminds me of Granny Smiths and that girl Jace likes. Susan.

I’m not hungry for cookies anymore.

Is it pointless to come out as gay when I don’t even have a boyfriend? Maybe I should do this when

I actually have someone to bring home.

This is your pathetic attempt at talking yourself out of telling her, chickenshit.

Annie steals a cookie off the cooling tray and juggles it until it’s cool enough to bite. “These are

good,” she says with a mouthful.

“They should be,” Mum says, ducking out of her apron and herding us to the dining table. She

plants the cooling tray between us. “They’re a bribe of sorts.”

Annie and I exchange glances. What’s going on here?

Mum paces, wringing her hands. Her eyes light up and she bites her bottom lip. Why is she so

excited? Did she get promoted to a new job? Does she want to move?

My stomach lurches at the thought. I don’t want to start over again. Besides, what would be the

point of moving? It’s Annie’s last year before university and . . . Ernie and Bert and . . . Dad and . . . She

wouldn’t make us move now, would she? I swallow.

I grip Annie’s hand under the table. She looks at me, startled. I guess she’s not thinking what I am.

“What is it, Mum?” Annie asks, taking another cookie.

She nods and pulls out a chair. When she settles into it, she looks at each of us in turn. “I’ve met

someone. We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now.”

“Say what now?”

I couldn’t have heard her right. Mum’s here every afternoon when we come home from school.

When—

We leave to Dad’s for a week.

Oh.

Annie’s cookie crumbles.

“His name is Paul. He’s a librarian. I met him at Memorial Library in Lower Hutt, and well, we hit

it off.”

“A few months?” Annie repeats. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Mum takes a cookie but doesn’t bite. “I didn’t want to make more waves for you. I wanted to make

sure it was serious before I told you about him.”

“So it’s serious then?” I’m trying to work through my initial shock. It’s a weird thought that Mum

has been dating some guy for months. Weird to know that someone else is creeping into her life—and

by extension, our lives.

But I’m happy for her and I like her excitement. I especially like that she hasn’t gotten a new job

and we’re not moving. I breathe out and smile broadly.

I squeeze Annie’s hand. “Paul, eh?”

Mum nods. “Yeah, and he’d love to meet my beautiful children.”

Annie sweeps up her broken cookie. I can tell it’s taking her an effort to keep it together. She

quietly excuses herself and throws the crumbs into the bin. When she comes back, she has a wobbly

smile on her face.

“Do you love him?” she asks.

Mum hesitates. “I like him very much, and I definitely think I could love him. But to be sure, I need

to know how he treats you guys. And what you guys think of him.” She gestures toward the cookies.

“Hence the bribe. He’s coming tonight.”

My words bypass my brain and spill from my heart. “If he makes you happy and doesn’t care that

you have a gay son, you have my blessing.”

I surprise myself by scooping up a cookie rather than a stone. I bite into a warm pocket of semimelted

chocolate.

Annie shuffles her chair an inch closer to mine, while Mum puts down her cookie and walks around

the table to my side. “Stand up, Cooper.”

I swallow hard and pass my cookie to Annie. With shaky legs, I stand up and face Mum. I am an

inch taller than her but she lifts herself onto her toes so we’re even. She cups her hands on either side of

my face and studies me. Her thumbs outline my brow and nose. “It’s not a joke,” I croak.

Her eyes well up and she kisses my cheek. “You’re beautiful. I love you. I support you. I’ll always

be your biggest fan, and I’ll always cheer for you on the sidelines no matter what play you make.”

She hugs me stiffly because Mum isn’t really a hugger, but it makes me warm. “Thanks, Mum.”

She rubs my arms and steps back. “Promise me you’ll wear protective armor.”

Annie snorts and I chuckle too—though mostly in embarrassment. But yeah, I’m well-versed in

safety, thanks to Dad.

“When is Paul coming?” I ask, eager to change the subject.

Annie smiles and nods. “Yeah,” she says. “When do we get to grill him?”

siltstone

Dad and I are cleaning up the dinner pots and pans. He washes, I dry.

“How would you feel if I brought home a girlfriend?”

He scrubs harder at the pot. “You’re too young.”

I’m almost sixteen. But I let that slide.

“What if I brought home a boyfriend?”

He pauses. “Still too young.”

When we’re done, Dad peels off the bright yellow gloves and says, “But when you’re older, I’d

sure like to meet whoever you bring home.”

And that’s it. We don’t mention it again.

apatite

Jace is practicing the piano when I race upstairs. It’s a complex bouncy-sounding song that

perfectly matches my mood: complicated and exhilarated. I burst into the room and the door swings

wildly, banging against the wall. Jace stops mid-song, fingers poised over the keys, head swinging

toward me. His expression morphs from shocked to amused to cocky. “What’s got you all excited?” His

brow arches.

I feel good. So damn good. Like one-thousand pounds has been lifted off my shoulders. Part of me

still feels anchored down but I’m ignoring that part for as long as I can.

“Keep playing,” I tell him. Jace squares his head toward the music and begins again. I jump up and

down, bouncing and dancing behind him like I’ve gone bonkers.

I don’t care.

When I can’t dance any more, I collapse on the couch and laugh. Even when Jace stops playing,

I’m still laughing. And when he charges across the room and looms over me, I still don’t stop.

He grins at me. “What the heck is going on with you?”

I press my foot against his chest to stop him from coming closer.

“You can’t act this crazy and not tell me!” He clasps my foot and peels off my sock. “Tell me, or I

tickle.”

“It’s nothing.”

He tickles. I squirm to get free, laughing harder.

“Let’s try that again, shall we? What’s going on with you?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

His tickle works its way up my calf to my knee. I buck, trying to kick him off. “Too ticklish!”

“Then tell me the truth.” He wiggles his finger threateningly but I shake my head.

“Fine, but you asked for it.”

Jace straddles me, his ass pressed against my lower stomach. He leans forward and tickles my

armpits.

I scream out in laughter, and tears stream down my face. I lift my hips to buck him off but he takes

it in stride, rising and falling with me. He shoves his cool hands under my T-shirt and my body arches

with yearning. Keep touching me like this! Yes, skate your fingertips over my chest. Keep tickling me

like this forever.

Jace stops moving and looks down at me solemnly. Our gazes clash. His dark blue eyes remind me

of blue apatite, a mineral of inspiration, creativity, and awareness.

Awareness. I’m aware of the way he’s sitting on me, aware of his warm weight and the pressure of

his fingers against my chest. Aware of the blood that is making my cock hard. Aware of the electrical

buzzes that pass through me as he continues to stare.

My breath hitches. Jace sits up, dragging his fingers off me. I can’t be sure but I think they are

shaking. “Tell me,” he pleads.

I swallow, praying he doesn’t shuffle back further or I won’t need to tell him anything. I want him

to stay where he is but I gesture for him to get off. I hurriedly fold myself into a less conspicuous

position. “The thing is . . .”

Footsteps pound down the hall and throw me out of the moment. I try again. “Thing is—”

Annie flings open the door. “Jace.” Her calm voice somehow turns me cold. “Your mum is crying. I

heard them downstairs.”

“She’s back?” Jace rushes toward the door. “I thought she was working late.” Jace hurries

downstairs.

“Do you know why she’s crying?” I ask.

Annie shakes her head. “Dad was comforting her. He looked upset too. I came right up here.”

I bite my lip. Has Dad told her about me and she’s crying for my soul? Will Dad change his mind

about being okay with me?

Calm down. Lila has never been narrow-minded. This has nothing to do with you.

But what if it does?

We wait for Jace a while and slither off to our rooms when he doesn’t return.

I place today’s stone in a shelf above my dresser. I stare at it for a few minutes until I hear Jace

behind me. He slumps through the open door and sits on my bed. I turn, lean against the dresser, and

watch him. He’s frowning and staring into the space between us.

“What’s the matter with your mum?” I ask carefully.

He glances at me. “She won’t tell me but something’s up.”

“I’m sorry.”

He draws with his foot against the carpet. “It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” I say, hoping to console him. “It’ll be fine.”

Nodding, he draws in a breath. He speaks but he’s not really paying attention. “So what were you

about to tell me?”

I shake my head. I can’t tell him now, and I don’t know that I would have before either. Coming out

to him is not the same as it was the others. With Jace, it feels like I have more at stake—more between

us that can break—and I’m not ready to deal with those consequences.

I know I have to do it eventually but . . . not yet.

flint

Over the weekend, Jace buys a used car, a small faded-teal hatchback that reminds me of mottled

flint. But it works and it’s rust-free. He takes me for a drive around the block, though technically this is

illegal on a restricted license.

We stop at the beach, where I run in to the local dairy to buy us ice cream. We lick our ice creams

while we stare at wisps of sand whipping across the beach. The choppy water is enjoyed only by a

couple of surfers.

The sweet vanilla ice cream tastes good, but the silence between Jace and me feels bad. Since he

found his mum crying, his mind has been elsewhere.

Jace slumps into the front seat and rests against the headrest, ice cream melting down his fingers.

“Nice buy,” I say, patting the dashboard. “Think of the freedom you’ll have now. No more buses.”

He grunts.

Why’d you invite me to come along for the ride if you’re not going to speak?

After we finish our ice creams, he gestures for my rubbish and disposes of it in the bin outside. He

wipes his sticky hands on his jeans on his way back to the car, then stops. He bends down and picks

something up. His back is mostly to me when he stands so I can’t see what’s in his hand. For a fraction

of a second he looks at me, then he slips his find into his pocket and hops back in the car.

His pocket bulges a bit and I recognize the shape. A smile stretches my lips and it won’t go away. I

stare out the passenger window so Jace doesn’t wonder why I’m grinning like a madman. When I regain

my cool, I ask him what we’re doing next since we have the whole day to kill.

He looks at me for a long time without speaking. I lean over and pinch him.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You’ve been lost in your head for days. It’s time to snap out of it.”

He opens his mouth to protest but slams it shut again. He starts the car, throws an arm around the

back of my seat, and backs out of the park. The heat of his arm at my neck makes me shiver, as does the

confidence with which Jace drives. He likes it and he’s good at it.

“You don’t understand,” he says around the corner from home.

“Then make me understand, or do something about it so you can get back to the real you.”

Jace slaps a hand on my thigh and then pinches me back. “Stings, doesn’t it?”

My mouth is dry. All I can do is nod because I still feel the weight and warmth of his hand clasping

my thigh the moment before he pinched it. The shocks are still shooting to my groin and making me

hard.

I shift, hoping my hardness isn’t noticeable. Thank the stars he’s concentrating on driving.

At home, Jace races up to his room and I wander about the house aimlessly like I’m living in the

clouds. I don’t know what to do with myself. I feel tingly and happy, like no one could piss me off even

if they tried.

“Good, you’re home,” Dad says in the dining room. “I have a chore for you.”

“What’s that?”

Dad raises a brow and a chipper attitude. “The two upstairs bathrooms need cleaning.”

“Fun,” I say, rolling my eyes but following it up with a grin.

He observes Lila preparing lunch. “Where’s Jace?” he asks. “I have an extra fun chore for him.”

“Better than scrubbing toilets?”

Dad jingles his car keys. “Since he has his own car, I figure he’ll want to keep it clean. He’s going

to wash mine while he’s at it.”

“He’s in his room.”

“Tell him to come down.”

I comply. Jace is on his laptop when I push his ajar door, and he hurriedly shuts it when I call his

name.

His face contorts when I relay the menial task Dad gave him, but he gets up.

I start cleaning Lila and Dad’s bathroom. They have their own sinks, which is a real pain in the ass

since I have to clean both.

Jace strolls in the moment I finish vacuuming. He’s wearing a raggedy T-shirt with a hole near the

hem and a pair of soccer shorts. He moves over to Dad’s sink and plucks his toothbrush from the holder.

I unplug the vacuum cleaner. “What are you doing?”

He holds the toothbrush up. “Time he replaces it anyway, don’t you think?” He edges to the door

where I’m standing. “This’ll make our tire rims shine.”

He jumps past me and strides down the hall, but he stops suddenly. “I almost forgot,” he says,

coming back to me and digging his free hand into his pocket. “This is for you.”

He throws it to me. It’s a quartz pebble, peach with a vein of white running through the middle in

the shape of a wave, and it’s still warm from Jace’s pocket.

I look up to thank him, to tell him it’s amazing.

But he’s gone.

rock salt

The night before Jace’s seventeenth, he leaves to party at Darren’s house. I’m not invited but I have

an essay to finish anyway. Jace’s birthday is tomorrow, and I don’t want this stupid assignment hanging

over me.

I sit at my desk to finish my essay. When the clock hands indicate twelve o’clock, I smile and text

Jace happy birthday. Ten minutes later, I jump into the shower, jerk off, and ready myself for bed.

I’m climbing into fresh sheets when my phone rings. I fall out of the bed and knock my head

against the carpet.

I rub my head and find the damn phone. Jace. But I knew it was him the moment the phone rang.

“Happy Birthday!”

He groans. “Happy? I don’t know. What is happy, anyway?”

“Are you drunk, Jace?”

He burps and that says it all.

“Can you pick me up, Coop? I left my wallet at home and I’m too drunk to walk home.”

Shit. “I only have my learner’s permit.” And no car—

Annie’s car. She got picked up by a friend earlier so her car’s available.

“Please? I don’t want Mum or Dad to see me like this.”

“I’m on my way.”

I pull on a pair of jeans over my boxers but I leave my nightshirt on. I don’t plan on socializing.

After shoving on some shoes, I snatch Annie’s car keys. Jace has taught me all the tricks to sneaking out

without getting caught—I make sure to switch off the sensor light before leaving.

I climb into Annie’s run-down Honda parked halfway down the street. I start the car and pray I

don’t get pulled over.

I’m in luck, and after a quick stop, I arrive at Darren’s fifteen minutes later. The house is swarming

with teenagers in various stages of sobriety and undress. I weave around giggling girls and couples

making out, and follow the pounding beat of the music to the heart of the party—the drinking games.

And Jace.

A guy pushes past me, slopping beer out of his paper cup. I jump back so it doesn’t hit me. Close.

Jace is sprawled face down on the couch, one arm touching the floor, his feet sticking over the end

of the couch, and a pink streamer hanging over his calf. His T-shirt has risen up, and the hard plains of

his back and the curve of his hip are on full display. He seems to be searching the crowd.

When he spots me, he transforms. His body sparks with life and he pulls himself off the couch.

“Cooper,” he mouths as he crashes toward me.

“Brother’s here to pick you up, eh?” Darren says as he throws an arm around Jace’s shoulder and

walks the rest of the way with him.

“We’re not even stepbrothers,” I mutter, but this is mostly to myself—and the punk guy at the

booze table next to me.

“I told him not to drink so fast,” Darren says when they catch up to me. “But he was nervous.” His

thumb jerks to a bunch of girls in the corner of the room.

I immediately recognize the blonde, who has just slopped red wine down her front and is laughing

about needing salt. Someone tells her to head for the boys drinking tequila.

I know she’ll have to pass us to get to those boys. “Right,” I say. “I’d better get him home.”

Jace mumbles something but the slurring music pounding in my ears deafens me. I say good-bye to

Darren and take his place, slipping an arm around Jace and steering him out of the party.

He’s not so drunk that he can’t fold himself into the car, thank God. But he jerks the seatbelt and it

doesn’t extend. I know it’s a fiddly fucker to deal with when sober so I lean over and draw it out for

him.

Jace’s glazed eyes match his amused smile. “What?” I ask as I click him in.

He shrugs and rubs his temples. “I need some water.”

“Glove compartment.”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

He drinks while I drive us home.

When he stumbles out of the car, I notice his wallet bulging in his pocket. I shrug it off. He was

probably too drunk to realize he had it all along.

I lock up the car and sneak us back into the house.

Upstairs, he goes to the bathroom. I figure he’s good and climb back into bed. Two minutes later,

my door opens and Jace flops onto the bed next to me.

I roll over to turn on the bedside lamp.

“Wrong room, Jace.”

“Nope,” he says, sounding a little less slurred now. “The right one.” He’s stripped down to his

Angry Bird boxers and is lying on his belly, arms under his head, looking at me. “It’s my birthday, and I

want to chat.”

I shuffle back against the headboard. “How was the party?”

“Okay, I guess. Not great.”

“What did you do all evening?”

“Talked about bullshit. Drank. Started some games.”

“Games?” I know what games he’s talking about, so now my belly is lurching.

“Childish. They thought they were being so funny. Got put in the closet with Susan and I nearly

puked all over her.”

I’m relieved. “Suave.”

“I didn’t want to play anyway.”

Ernie and Bert are always trying to get such a chance. “Why not? Thought you liked her?”

“I do but that’s not the way to start a relationship. I want to take her on a few dates first. Flatter her.

Spoil her. Let it progress from there.”

I loathe every word. “She must be special then.”

“I hope so.” Jace shifts his attention to the shelves behind me. “The stones above your bed. Those

are your favorites, aren’t they?”

I glare at them and shrug. I want to kick him out of my bed. I want to slam the door and be alone. I

want him to stay right where he is until he opens his damn eyes to what’s in front of him. “My favorites

from the weeks I’m here.”

Jace pulls one out, the amethyst he denied giving me. “What’s this one remind you of?”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s my birthstone,” he says. “I kind of have to like it.”

Just as I thought. The stones he’d given me back then meant something.

“So what does it mean?” he asks. “What do you think about when you look at this one?”

“I think about you, actually,” I say while refusing to look at him. “You probably don’t remember

but it happened last year. We were watching classics with Annie. When she went to bed, we stayed up

and watched Silence of the Lambs, and it freaked the shit out of me.”

“I remember,” Jace says, and his voice tickles the hairs on my arms and makes my neck prickle.

“You were trying to be all tough like you could handle it but your shudders were vibrating the couch.”

“Hardly.”

“Coop, I was about to turn it off and send you to bed.”

This I didn’t know. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because you kept saying these stupid jokes,” his voice changes pitch. If he’s mimicking me, he’s

doing a poor job of it. “When does a cannibal leave the table? When everyone’s eaten!” Jace chuckles.

“You kept asking if I could handle it. I knew you were determined to get through it. We each need to

have a movie that freaks us the fuck out so we can laugh at ourselves later.”

I growl at him and swat the back of his head.

“That’s what the amethyst reminds me of,” I say, though that’s not all of it. I also remember when

Jace grabbed a blanket and stopped himself from tossing it to me to lay it over both of us. We were

sitting with our feet curled to the middle of the couch, the rest of our bodies as far from touching as

possible.

Then I got a fright and my foot slipped against his. I waited for him to jerk away from me and

rearrange himself, but he didn’t, and for the rest of the movie our feet were touching.

Suddenly Jace clears his throat, puts the stone away and pulls down the white Cheshire stone, the

most recently added favorite. “And what about this one?”

“That one’s kind of personal.”

Jace smirks. “Remind you of your first proper wank? Your first French kiss?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Yeah. But that gives me courage.”

“Courage to do what?”

“To ask you.”

“Ask me what?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“Is this a trick question? Sounds pointless.”

“You don’t get it.” He sighs and picks up another stone. “What about this?”

That one I can tell him.

After I finish the story, he smiles and yawns. “I want to see one more.”

“What’s that?”

He holds out a hand and rubs his fingers. “Today’s stone.”

“Today’s?”

“That’s what I said.”

I slink out of bed and retrieve it from a cubbyhole above my desk. The stone is a layered slice of

sediment I found at the local park down the road when I rehearsed my speech for Jace’s birthday. I

couldn’t think of the right words so I picked up the stone in frustration.

I pass it to him and he eyes it carefully, as much as a drunk guy can. He sniffs it and touches it with

the tip of his tongue.

It’s fast becoming one of my favorite pieces. He hands it back to me and I set it on the side table.

Jace yawns again. “Can I sleep here, Cooper?”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “Warmer with you next to me. Be like camping again.”

I shiver. I want to beg him to sleep in his own bed, to dream of Susan there, but I’m too weak

because I want him here, so I can pretend he’s mine.

“You can crash in here on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You have to get up early with me. I have something for you.”

“How early are we talking?”

“Very. We need to head out while it’s still dark.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Good night, Cooper.”

“Night.”

His hand fishes for mine and when he finds it he draws lightly over the back. “You’re the best

friend and brother I could ask for.”

Friend.

Brother.

I especially don’t like the second word. It’s trying to snuff out that little flame of hope in my belly,

and I don’t want it to.

I switch off the lamp, drowning the room in shadows and secrets, and lie down.

Jace lulls me to sleep with his heavy breaths.

Sometime in the night, he cuddles under the blankets and drapes his arm around me. It’s warm and

solid there. Different, but it’s a good different. I leave Jace right where he is and continue sleeping

alongside him.

amethyst

He groans when I wake him, and he curses when I make him follow me to the cave. It’s later than

I’d have liked. The sky is a milky grey but it’s still dark enough that the cave glows with clusters of

green light.

We’re always quiet in here. It’s the perfect place to give him his gift.

We sit down in the cave, cross-legged and facing each other. The darkness and glow give us a

greenish aura. Jace shifts and his knees bump against mine. He’s watching me, waiting for me to speak.

I breathe out and dig into my pocket for his gift, which is wrapped in a black velvet bag. I finger it

through the soft bag, and its meaning weighs heavy in my hand. I’ve been looking forward to giving

this to him for weeks but now my hands are clammy and my tongue seems to be stuck to the roof of my

mouth.

I draw out the gift and, without speaking, lift his hand and press the gift into his warm palm. He

stares at me, then stares at his hand. His Adam’s apple juts out with a swallow.

“Cooper—”

I lift a finger to my mouth and shake my head. I want him to like it, to accept it, not to speak.

He trembles as he opens the bag and draws out the greenstone fishhook. It’s simple and dark with

flecks of lighter green. I hope when he looks at it he sees me looking back at him. I hope when he wears

it, we—us and the times we’ve had together—will be in his thoughts.

I know seeing it against his chest will remind me of the moment we met, when I hated him. Hated

him for claiming my dad as his own, hated him for giving me that cocky grin, and hated him for taking

my breath away. Because it was that single moment when it all clicked. When my body screamed to me

how attractive he was, but I twisted it into something dark and ugly. His blue eyes weren’t beautiful,

they weren’t. They were the color of the rubbish bags Mum used in the bathroom; the color of oily

seawater; the color of regurgitated fish scales.

I glance at the hook he’s tying around his neck. It had to be a hook because I want to reel him in.

Even if I can’t or won’t, it’ll be nice to see hope hanging from his chest.

Jace stuffs the empty velvet bag into his pocket and stands up. I follow. Outside the cave, Jace turns

to me. He doesn’t hug me. In fact he keeps his distance. The creek babbles. Birds chirp. And then his

words. His promise.

“I’ll never take it off.”

* * *

Lila and Dad take us to lunch to celebrate. We’re at a restaurant on the waterfront and we’re all

dressed up. I’ve managed to spill water on my shirt and I’m mopping my chest with a napkin. Annie is

laughing and shaking her head at me. Dad is content, resting back in his chair, looking out over the

glittering sea at the view of the city.

Lila sits on the other side of her son, her eyes rimmed with moisture, squeezing Jace’s hand.

“Seventeen,” she says. “I can’t believe how fast you’ve grown up.”

Jace kisses her cheek. “I still have a year at home before university.”

One more year.

Only one.

Then he’s off, and what about you? You’re still going to be in school. Two different worlds. He’ll

keep in contact for a while, but it will fizzle, and eventually you’ll merely be guys who grew up together,

and the friend part will end.

Dad swivels toward Lila, a melancholic smile playing at his lips. “Do you remember when we were

seventeen?”

Lila laughs and releases Jace’s hand, scavenging for her glass of orange juice. She’s about to drink

when she stops. “I was sad most of that year,” she says and Dad frowns, sitting up straight.

“You were?”

She sips her orange juice. “Yes. Hard not to be when your best friend goes to the States for six

months.”

“You had what’s-her-name. I thought you were fine. You always raved about how you two were

having all sorts of adventures. Made me jealous half the time.”

Lila looks surprised. “It did? I guess that was the point. I was having a miserable time but I wanted

you to miss me.”

Dad turns in his chair so he’s facing Lila directly. He takes her hand and kisses the palm. “You have

no idea how much I missed you.”

Annie clears her throat. “Maybe we should check the menus before the waiter gets here.” I read her

tightly spoken words. What about Mum? If they were already in love, how did he ever fall for Mum?