Essential Maps for the Lost Page 11

  “Want me to carry her?” Billy asks.

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  He lifts her to his shoulders.

  “Want me to take him?” Mads asks.

  “Sure. Appreciate it.”

  He hands Mads the leash.

  They walk. Ivy’s floral hat bobs as she checks it all out. Rocko sniffs coils of seaweed on the sand.

  Mads doesn’t even really know where she is. She’s far from home, and everything around her is unfamiliar. At home there are farms and vineyards and pastures rolling out like seas, and here there’s the real ocean. At home, there’s her mother and her friends and a boy who still loves her, and here there are strangers, and an unusual boy with a stolen, long-limbed dog. But in this strangeness and in this away, some part of her sighs. The sigh is very nearly rest, such a needed rest that it’s almost a potion, and the ogres sit their big bodies down and get a little sloppy. The sun and salt air make them sleepy. They loosen the ropes around her wrists.

  A ferry pulls away from the dock. There it goes, leaving for Canada. Billy Youngwolf Floyd slips his hand into hers. It feels both shy and bold. Mads will have to break it off with him. She knows this. Right then, though, she accepts the hand that reaches.

  Now a train is coming after all. The arm of the gate turns stern and folds down. Red lights flash, and the train rumbles through. Ivy points out the astonishing sight with one chubby finger. Even from the beach, the train seems to shake the earth. Mads and Billy grip hands and watch it pass. As it does, Mads does not imagine that train smashing into anything or anyone. Instead, she imagines the places it could go.

  Chapter Twelve

  Billy’s palm is getting a little sweaty, but so what. So the hell what. He wishes he were on that train with her right now, and he wouldn’t even care where they were going. It could end up in Tacoma even, right at the smelter, and he’d feel fabulous.

  “I love you!” Mads shouts. Okay, she doesn’t actually shout this. He can’t even tell what she’s saying, because the train is freaking loud. He can only see her mouth move, and she’s smiling, so he nods and smiles back.

  He’s just so relieved, he can barely stand it. Relief’s like a spell of Fast Healing. His Ability Points practically pour back in. All week, he’s been in agony, thinking she gave him the wrong number on purpose. It didn’t make sense, not after that kiss. And now—he was right! It was a misunderstanding! He never knew misunderstandings could be this awesome. And he was wrong, too, about the truck and the train tracks. The minute he saw the baby, he knew he’d been wrong. She loves that kid. That day at the bridge, he saw how she put their cheeks together and how she pulled up the baby’s little socks.

  Relief throws a party in his whole body.

  He was wrong about the train, but still, he’s glad she’s walking right next to him as it passes. He anchors her down by holding her hand. When he saw the truck stopped at those tracks, he thought the same thing he did that day at the bridge. The doctor in his head, the one with the idiot box of Kleenex, tells him he’ll see his mom in every girl, but he’s not that stupid. This is more than a head game. Mads has those tan arms and those adorable freckles, but he sees the spell she’s burdened with, the secret coat she’s wearing. Once you know about the secret coat, you can spot another person wearing it. Mads is sweet and cheerful, but she buttoned her sweater wrong during their date when the night got cool, and her eyes have those thumbprints of dark circles under them. It’s something out of Night Worlds. He’d call it a Despair Spell. The weight of the coat would slowly drain your energy before killing you off.

  But this is not why his heart cracks right open every time he sees her, he tells the doctor in his head. It’s the possible joy, not the sorrow, that draws him, asshole. This is no freaky mother-thing, you loser. He is not attracted to the coat, but to the real person under the coat.

  The train disappears into the distance. “Where’s it going?” she asks.

  He has no idea. “New York. Metropolitan Museum of Art.”

  She laughs. “Yeah. That’s exactly where it’s going.” The baby pats the top of Billy’s head as they walk again. Rocko pees on a boulder and then on a washed-up tennis shoe.

  “Rocko’s walking funny,” Mads says. She’s already getting a little sunburned. She put lotion on the baby but not on herself.

  “It’s a sign? That he’s been abused. Hair loss, too. That sore by his ear . . . He’s got another one under his front leg. Our vet will take care of that. Right, Rocko? You’re gonna have a new life, friend.”

  Rocko’s ear twitches at the sound of his name. “That’s so sad.”

  “Sometimes they won’t even walk around like he’s doing. They don’t play. Or else, right away they bond to you. They don’t want to leave your side. You should have seen Jasper.” Billy’s talking a lot. Something about that girl just makes his voice pour out.

  “Was Jasper with you the other day?”

  “Yeah. He’s my buddy. You saw him, the big golden? He wouldn’t get off my lap for like three weeks when we first got him. Jasp, I’m going to take him when I get my own place.” The words my own place come out like nothing, but they’re not nothing. He uses those words on purpose, because saying them to her, saying them in all this light, might make them okay again. In spite of what those words now mean to him, he feels a graze of desire for them, too. God, it’d be so great. A place with a yard for Jasper and Casper. Freedom. It’s the first time he’s let himself imagine it again.

  She has no idea about any of this. She just sits down so cute, doesn’t even see him fighting off the slam throw-up feeling, doesn’t even see that he wins. He wins, because he lets the future in. They sit on a big piece of driftwood, and then the baby, Ivy, gets squirmy in her pack, and they take her out, and Mads walks her around holding her little seashell hands. She keeps heading for Rocko, which makes Billy slightly nervous.

  “I don’t think he’s aggressive. But she probably shouldn’t pet him or anything.”

  “Okay.”

  “He needs some time to just, you know, be himself.”

  “What’s going to happen to him?”

  “My boss, Jane—she’ll make sure he gets a good home. We’re a no-kill shelter, so however long that takes . . . Sometimes she’ll bring charges against the asshole. And generally I’m not supposed to just—”

  “Steal them?”

  “Not steal them exactly. Remove them from the situation. Without permission from the owner.”

  “Steal.”

  He doesn’t know how to explain it. “I can’t help myself.”

  “I get that.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Definitely.”

  “It feels so great out here,” Mads says. “It makes me just want to—” In one sudden move, she picks up baby Ivy and runs like hell down the beach and then runs like hell back. Ivy bumps along on Mads’s hip, and the baby’s laughing so hard, you can’t see her eyes. Mads’s face is so happy and open that Billy’s heart just busts. It cracks, because whatever is in it has made it crazy-full. It hasn’t felt that full in so long.

  “Come here,” he says when she’s back again, panting. “You come right here.” He wants to lift her right up off the ground, but he can’t. Not with Rocko on the leash and Ivy on her hip. He yanks her hand instead, pulls her toward him.

  They grin at each other like idiots and then she says, “I’d live there.” She points to a small white house on the bluff.

  “Not there?” He indicates a big damn mansion.

  “Too much vacuuming.”

  “You can come here and sell a bunch of real estate and buy it.”

  “No way. It might look small, but I’m guessing three bedrooms, with an attic and a basement. Twenty-seven hundred square feet, at least, and with that view? Practically waterfront. Okay, there’s the train, but still.”

  “You sure love real estate, huh?”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, you. Rocko’s a dog and Ivy’s a baby, so they don’t
even know what real estate is.”

  “I don’t love it.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No.”

  “It seems like it. You seem so happy talking about your class. And the whole Murray and Murray thing.”

  “I didn’t want to seem all negative.”

  “Do you even like it?”

  “I sort of like it. I maybe like it. I don’t know. I don’t think I like it. Let’s just call it a family obligation. It’s complicated.”

  He grins.

  “Oh, great. I know what you’re thinking.” She can’t help but smile now. “I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

  “You’re a mind reader, huh?”

  “Don’t even say it,” she warns.

  He raises his eyebrows, wiggles them. Man, he likes her.

  “If you say it, I’m going to punch you.”

  “Say what, something about complications? Something with the word like?”

  “I’m going to punch you a good one.”

  “I’m a lover, not a fighter.” It sounds stupid, but kind of just right, too. She laughs. She play punches his arm anyway, and he wishes he could grab her so hard and kiss her and pull her down on the sand.

  Ivy’s squirming again, getting cranky. She’s making little monkey screeches.

  “This is going to get ugly,” Mads says. “Jeez, what time is it? I’ve got to go.”

  “Yeah, me too. I better get Rocko over to his new digs.”

  They head back to their cars. When they reach the tracks, he takes her hand and runs everyone to the other side. No train is coming, but still. You don’t want to take chances. Every one of them, Madison and Ivy and Rocko, and even him, yeah, even his fucked-up self, is worth protecting.

  She buckles in Ivy. The baby twists and reaches for Billy like he might save her from the torture of the car seat. Shit. Now he kind of loves her, too.

  “That’s very dramatic, Ives.” Mads hands the baby a round Tupperware container of Cheerios, and Ivy decides she likes the car seat after all. “It was really nice to meet you, Rocko.” He likes how Mads looks at the dog. Like she’s trying to give him all the love she can with her eyes.

  He wants to kiss her so bad. He’s trying to find a moment, but she’s rushing all around, settling the baby, and before he knows it, she’s in the truck. She rolls the window down, fast. After this great day, now she’s all hurry-hurry, like she’s trying to get away. “Well, thanks so much for the chocolates, and for, you know, stalking me.”

  “Hey, no problem. Anytime.” He’s not feeling the kiss coming. In fact, if he doesn’t do something fast, she’ll be gone. He doesn’t get this. A second ago, it was like they were practically a couple, a possible couple, walking down that beach.

  “Um, Mads. Wait. You want to get together later?”

  No answer. Shit. Shit! She just runs her hand along the seam of the window ledge, as if checking the quality of workmanship.

  “Or tomorrow?”

  She stares out toward the water where the ferry disappeared.

  “Or another time?”

  “Billy—”

  “Don’t even say anything.”

  “No. No! It’s not you.”

  He groans.

  “No, I mean, this has been a great day. I was so happy you found me! But I can’t come here and sell real estate, you know? I’ve got to go back home in September.”

  “You don’t know what might happen between now and then.”

  “I’ve got to go home in September. I know that.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I’m not . . . I don’t know. I don’t want anyone to get hurt here. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “We’re just hanging out.” He’s such a liar.

  She rubs her forehead. “Ugh.”

  “Hey,” he says. “No problem.”

  “I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot.”

  “No worries. I’ll just have to find someone else to go to New York with.” He tries to make it seem like a joke, but his voice is cheery as a crime show.

  “Just remember to keep your feet up in the bathroom stall so the guards don’t see you.” She looks like she might cry.

  It takes three, four times for the engine to start. He stands around looking lame. He’s not one of those guys who can lift the hood and fix the problem. He knows the chassis is the body, and the engine is the heart, and that’s it.

  She waves. He waves. In two minutes, he’s gone from soaring to crash. He wants to swear and kick tires, but Rocko is with him, and Rocko has seen enough explosive shit. He’s got a responsibility to that dog, even if the world is mean. He swallows that meanness and hopes it doesn’t burn an acid hole in his own rusty engine.

  • • •

  He’s in a bad mood. Even Night Worlds sucks. Drew knows someone who knows someone who’s having a party, so he decides to go with Alex and Leigh. Supposedly, Alex and Leigh aren’t back together, but going out together looks back together to Billy. He doesn’t like Leigh. She’s one of those people who always make little corrective statements, laughing at how Alex pronounces something or telling him to close his mouth all the way when he eats and shit like that. Next time, he’s going to say something. He’s not going to fucking sit back and watch Alex be humiliated. His mom’s old boyfriend Powell used to do that to her.

  He’s in a hurry, and he’s not hungry anyway, so he takes a few swigs out of the milk carton. Gran gives him a Gaze Attack. It’s not about the milk, though. His mother didn’t like when he didn’t use a glass, but Gran couldn’t care less.

  “Billy.”

  “What.”

  “You aren’t going to eat? What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Slamming the fridge door as you say nothing is not nothing.”

  “I’m just in a hurry.”

  “Is this about her birthday coming?”

  Swear to God, it’s like someone punches him. An actual punch, right in the gut. He’s socked with pain. It bends him over. He deserves it, too. He forgot! He fucking forgot his mother’s birthday was coming. How could he? How could he be such a dick? He wants to hurl that kitchen chair through a window, but he just jerks it away from the table and flings himself into it. He puts his head in his hands. He presses on his eyeballs until he sees stars.

  Gran’s hand is on his back. “You ever remember my birthday? No one ever remembers my birthday. It’s okay.”

  It isn’t. Nothing is okay right then. He starts to cry like a big baby again. His stomach heaves with grief. The wracking sobs give him the beating he deserves. First, he couldn’t stop his mother, and second, he wasn’t enough, and third, he almost forgot her. He knows he’s not supposed to think like this. Depression is a disease, yeah, okay, but a person still makes choices! Even in that darkest of dark places, a choice was made, and he can’t get past that fact. No matter how hard he tries, he keeps coming back to the wrong, black logic his guilty mind insists on: It’s something she did to him, something he did to her, something people do to each other, which means it could have been different.

  He forgot her birthday, and Madison Murray basically told him to take a hike after he already had started to fall for her, and now he’s going to end this fucked-up day by going to a party when he hates parties, and a tornado of sadness is ripping through him.

  “Billy. Look at me.”

  He doesn’t want to look at her.

  She forces his chin up with her hand. He hates when she does that. It makes him feel like he’s six and not a man.

  “Quit,” he says.

  He yanks his chin away. But she’s already seen his eyes.

  “It’s not just that, is it?”

  Sometimes she doesn’t know when to leave a person alone.

  “It’s a girl, too. That girl.”

  “For God’s sake,” he says.

  “Where did you say you met this girl, anyway?”

  “We just ran into each other. It doesn’t matter. I’m
not going to see her again.”

  “You ran into her twice, you said. At home. At the bridge.”

  “She knew someone on our street. So what.”

  “Oh, really.”

  This is another thing he hates. Gran’s paranoid. There’s always some big plot, some way a person will do you wrong. Occasionally, she’s right, but usually, she’s just looking for a reason to hate people. Like her neighbors, the time they used her dock for like five minutes. She was pissed and held a grudge for years, because they didn’t ask first. Like his old friend Jacob, who stopped coming over after Gran said he smelled like weed. He was a good guy, straitlaced, went to church even. He just lived with his dad and they didn’t do a lot of laundry. Billy didn’t like to think about it.

  He loves Gran, but she has a mean streak. It’s different between Gran and him than it was between Gran and Mom, he keeps telling himself. Easier. But he wonders, you know, what it’d be like to grow up being told you should think the worst of people. If every person was bad, how did you ever feel safe?

  “I don’t know what you’re thinking, old lady, and I don’t care. I’m outta here.”

  “Don’t be a fool. If something seems strange, it’s usually strange.”

  “You’re strange,” he says.

  At least he’s done crying now. Also, he’s just pretty much done in general.

  • • •

  The party’s at this girl Becka’s house. She and her friends were sophomores when Billy and his friends were seniors. It’s weird, being at a party with people still in high school. He feels too old for this. He’s only been out of school for a year, but hanging out with them seems like something you could get arrested for.

  Becka’s parents are gone. The house has a backyard with neighbors on all sides. The music’s loud. The dining room table is filled with beer and open bags of chips and a bowl of dying guacamole. A few broken chips stick up from it like headstones.

  Billy cracks the top of a bottle of beer he doesn’t even want. Alex and Leigh are kissing. It pisses him off. “They have a hot tub,” Drew shouts next to him.

  “Did you bring your bathing suit?” Billy asks, and then feels fifty. Drew pretends to choke on a swallow of Corona and gives him one of those looks that says What the hell?